POSTSCRIPTS

Evening Post, Volume CXIX, Issue 78, 2 April 1935, Page 8

POSTSCRIPTS

Chronicle and Cornmmt BY PERCY FLAGE "Henry" wants to know if both Mr. Forbes and the Prime Minister are going to England? • # * The reduction in Britain's floating debt will be a fine antidote for that sinking feeling. » »'•♦■■. Civil servants in New South Wales are to have a further 20 per cent, of I their "cuts" restored. Of course, an election is approaching. * * # - ■ The authorities in Russia are shooting reckless drivers at sunrise. Too lenient. They should be dragged out at 2 a.m. to face the platoon. ; ! .A burglar suspect was heavily reproached by a London Magistrate for using tools of a foreign make. Such lack of patriotism brands the traitor as little better than a dealer ia munitions. . # '♦ # HORTICULTURAL ERROR. . With acknowledgments to that efficient trade journal, "The Grocer." . An Archdeacon recently visited ah ■ out-of-the-way parish when the rector happened to be away. ' The visitor was shown about by the clerk, and, on entering the church- , yard, was surprised to see a fine crop of wheat growing in it. "Dear, dear," said the Archdeacon, "I don't like this at all. I really did not think that,the rector would plan* wheat in the 'churchyard." . "That's just what I told parson," said the clerk. "I says, 'You did not ought to have wheated it.'l says, 'you ought to have tatered it,' I says." •" i *. • A QUIET DOOR. Our old friend, "Gran," of Karori, requests publication of those gentla and beautiful lines, "Death Is Only • Quiet Door." We readily comply. Death is only an old door Set in a garden wall. ■';' ':,••• On gentle hinges it gives, at dusk, When the thrushes call. Along the. lintel are green leaves, Beyond; the light lies still. Very willing and weary feet Go over that sill. ..■'■'-■ There is nothing to-trouble any hear^ Nothing to hurt at all. Death is only a quiet door In an old wall. The author of the poem is an Am» rican, Nancy Byrd Turner. . * ■ ». .' ■'•■'. ■.■.•.' OLD-TIME FORMALITY. Well, we all wish Mr. Forbes an* his entourage a jolly time in London, do we not? (Carried almost unanimously.) They may see the King, in accordance with immemorial custom, halt at the site of Temple Bar—the western boundary of the city—to be welcomed by the Lord Mayor. The custom is a reminder that the permission of the Lord Mayor has to be obtained for the passage of troops through the city. Last September two sections of the Guards passed through without the consent of the Lord Mayor having been obtained. A letter calling attention to this was sent at once.to the Secretary of State for War. The repjy almost identically, followed the lines, of one, received . in similar circumstances in'iß6o, .expressing regret and stating that in future notice would be sent to the private secretary to the Lord Mayor, whenever troopa were to pass through the city. , * «• * CONTRASTS. ' <. I have paced down, Piccadilly, and strolled along the Strand. I've fed the pigeons of old St.. Paul's— They would come and perch on my; hand.. I've- seen the Tower Bridge at. dawn; and shrouded in midnight fog: . . .Been roused from a sno.ozs; under Blackfriars Arch ' ■ And told to "move on!"^—like a dpg. I have danced to the strains, of • Hylton's band, ' • ' • : ■ Chaffed with debutantes in the: ■ ■ Mall:* ■■■■■■■-,■ . . .. And I've cooked a pill in at Chinese den r - And dreamed 'neath its magic spell.I've supped at the Carlton, and "Jimmy's," too: Quaffed wine from goblets tall. . . . Been glad to, creep to thai ' warmth and' light ; ■ ,-■• Of a coffee-and-hot-pies stall. I have joined in Society's ChurcK Parade, - And ridden in Rotten Row: ...-■'' . . . And I've hunted a job at th«} dockyard gates .' . . . ■".-..' In the'bitter sleet and snow. , I've given a cub the "scoop" of hi« life For his paper, the "Evening Mail," As one of the outcasts who "walked the beat" .'■■.'■•■'■■ When the "busies" were on the, trail. I've seen Bank Holiday on the Heath, And Epping Forest, too: And stood'on old Putney Bridge and cheered For1 the boat of my favourite "Blue." Yes, I've known what it, means to bet very high up: What it means to be very low down; For. by God, I came to grips with life When I lived in London town. LOLA MARIES. ♦Pronounced "Mell."- , .'. , »■:.**. .■■#.' l•■■ ■ • ABSENT WITHOUT LEAVE. Captain, "Sarge"! Among the pet* sonnel of the. 15th Battery to accompany their unit from Egypt to Francewere "Rupe" Stewart and "Joe" Ogden. Incidentally, only the day previous to embarkation both had been promoted corporals. After stowing the guns, horses, and themselves on board, "Rupe" got wind that they were not sailing until the following morning. "What's wrong with giving Alex, the final once-over?" he suggested to "Joe." Waiting until darkness set in, they slid down the gangway and got away with it.. The night life of the gay city soon swallowed them up. "Rupe" had planned to hit the waterfront again around 5 a.m. Unfortunately, his "Big Ben" was not jewelled in every link, and was running an hour slow. They reached the wharf just in time to see their transport sliding out into the stream. "Holy wars!" exclaimed "Joe." "That's torn it." A frantid search along the docks and they located a "Gyppo" with a boat. /'Fifty, piastres, Abdul," they cried, "if you make that troopship.1 * It is certain. Sure Abdul never rowed harder in his life. The Minnewosca had just made the harbour entrance when a final spurt brought them alongside. A rope ladder was thrown down and the two corporals scrambled aboard. Later that morning "Joe" watched "Rupe" leave the orderlyroom minus his stripes. Then 'it wafc "Joe's" turn to face the music. "Any excuse to make, Ogden?" asked Colonel "Norrie" Falla. "Well, sir! You know how it is. A night of wine, women, and song." "No, I don't," snapped the colonel. "Besides, you're an old soldier and should know better. You're reduced to the ranks.1? As the two aspiring corps,' later remarked: "It certainly was a,short pro* motion, but nevertheless a gay orte." > DIG. WEVEL, /