POSTSCRIPTS

Evening Post, Issue 154, 1 July 1936, Page 8

POSTSCRIPTS

Chronicle and Comment

B7 Percy Flag*.

They say the Queen Mary is so large that it takes the passenger ten minutes to reach the waterfront. » » « Probably Mussolini's silence can ba attributed to the fact that he is working out another fait accompli. Jack Garner, smash-hit poker player, should make a good Vice-President. He knows all about deals—New and otherwise, and can he call a bluff! If after his bad display—and excuse* —in France Perry should take the honours at Wimbledon, you can safely assume that his wife has given him a good talking to. * * « RACKETTY COO. Tinkle, tinkle, little car, , Five pounds down and mine you are, And even if I pass you in, The fun I've had was worth the tin. N.J. » i> » MEET AN OLD-TIMER. ■ Writes D.D.: The quotation from R.G.E. in Postscripts recently, reminds me of another application. An old Scottish divine was accustomed to make a running commentary on the Scripture reading at the Sabbath service. On one occasion when coming to the passage from the Psalms of David, "I said in my haste, all men are liars," he paused, and glancing over his congregation added significantly, "Ah, David, and had ye lived in this parish ye micht-hae said it at your leesure." VIOLENT GUILDS.. Omadhaun, Historian Extraordinary to this column (How Extraordinary!), fired by a desire to indulge in historical research as a result of the guild versus trades union argument, looked up what the "Anglo-Saxon Chronicle" contained for the year 1124 A.D. and found the following, which, he submits, should be published by way of friendly warning to his old sparring partner, the Hon. Tim Armstrong, Boss Dog of Unions:— "Full heavy was this year. The man that had any property, was bereaved of it by violent guilds and violent moots. The man that had" not, was starved with hunger." '■ * ♦ ■ » INFORMATION DEPARTMENT. In reply to Mrs. JJH. (Newtown): The words of the so-called "suicidt song," "Gloomy Sunday," are as fo> lows:— . Then there came a Sunday When you came to find me. They bore me to church And I left you behind me. My eyes could not see one ,■ I wanted to love me. The earth and the flowers 1 Are for ever above me. The bell tolled for me and The wind whisp'red "Never." But you I have loved ■And I bless you for ever. The 8.8.C. passed this item only on condition that it must not be sung with a dance band "or in any way burlesqued"! Yet the 8.8.C. allowed crooners to sing "Miss Otis Regrets," which is all about a coloured girl who shoots her lover and is lynched, and permitted artists to moan "Stormy Weather" and "St. James's Infirmary Blues."' * ' «■...;«" BEARDS., News that the Yeomen of the Guard may now shave off their beards reminds us that Peter the Great imposed a tax on such hirsute adornments (or atrocities). Everyone above the lowest class, had to pay 100 roubles, and the lower social stratum a copeck, for enjoying the "luxury." Clerks were stationed at the gates of every town to collect.the tax. Are you interested in bearded women? Very well. Charles XII had in his army a woman whose beard was a yard and a half long. She was taken prisoner at Pultowa and presented to the Tsar, ,1724. A Genevaborn lady was exhibited in London in 1852-53. She possessed a .profuse head of hair, a strong, black beard, large whiskers, and thick hair on her arms and back. Another bearded wench, found among the Digger Indians of Mexico, also was on show in London—in 1857. Among the Jews, Turks, and many, Eastern nations the beard has long been regarded as a sign of manly dignity. To cut it off wilfully was a deadly insult. No greater affront could be offered to a man than to pluck or even, touch his beard, hence the phrase, "To beard one." * * « THEATRE TICKET SELLER'S REVERIE. Trams grind along the busy street: The hoot of cars, the sound of feet Upon the pavement stones, all malte" Me long for cool green lanes that take A winding course through countryside. Or moonlit beach, where the slow tide Laps the wet sand. But all I hear Is: "How much upstairs? Oh, far too dear." Or else a patron's voice complain: "It is too bad, I've missed my train. "Your matinees are much too long." I fancy I can hear the song Of blackbirds in the gracious eve. But no; it's someone with a peeve Because Clark Gable or June Lang Talks with a nasal Yankee twang. Down Haka way the mountains lie PUrple against a darkening sky. But here a raucous cry ascends, "Eev-er-ning Post." A siren rends The air, and rushing to a blaze An engine dashes past—a haze Of smoke appears. Is that the ,bleat Of sheep I hear? Or is the sweet Scent of white clover in the breeze, When wind comes soughing through the trees? What's that—another traffic blockl Hell! When will it be nine o'clock! LOLA MARIES. . Wellington. ENGLAND'S EARL MARSHAL. As promised an. inquiring Postscripter, here are a few details concerning the Duke of Norfolk, who will have charge ef the Coronation arrangements next year. The Duke, who is Earl Marshal of England, is the premier Duke and Earl of England, and the head of an ancient* and illustrious family ranking next to the Blood Royal. He is a bachelor, is still young.' and is the possessor of vast estates and wealth. The task of staging the Coronation with smopthness and precision is a tremendous responsibility,, but the Duke (who is, by the way. also Chief Butler of England) had some practice when he handled in his official capacity the State funeral of the late King George. The Duke at present is busy studying the mass of | memoranda concerning coronations left rby his father and ancestors. Many of these documents go back to Tudor times and there is a complete record of all coronations officially attended by the Dukes of Norfolk during the last 400 years. As Earl Marshal, Norfolk receives the modest sum, "for ever," of £20 per annum, the money being paid half-yearly. The sum comes from the free farm rent of Ipswich, Suffolk, and has been paid for centuries.