POSTSCRIPTS

Evening Post, Volume CXXII, Issue 132, 1 December 1936, Page 8

POSTSCRIPTS

Chronicle and Comment

By Percy Flack.

Out on that snail-paced anti-cyclone which is reported crossing the Tasmari Sea! » * « It is difficult to place the responsibility for the shortage of oranges, but the consumer continues to be th« "lemon" as usual. • • • Talking of those war debt notices —when will America learn that it is useless knocking at the door when she knows nobody is at home? , -::• * ♦ Affairs in the Iberian Peninsula ar» so mixed that it seems safe to predict that the final result will be a Spanish omelette. 1 « * • In view of the notice of the abolition of Sunday funerals, considerate people will, of course, choose a day for their demise which will not clash with the new mortuary policy. • » 4 STILL BEHIND THE TIMES. "'Heedless of men, heedless of gods, they have attained the hardest of results —they are beyond the need of prayer." No, this is not a clerical criticism at modern "bright young things," but the description of the savage tribes of Finland given by the Roman historian Tacitus rather more than 1800 years ago. Some of us will be surprised to find how far from being up to dat« we are. ' OMEGA. INQUIRY DEPARTMENT. "Barney Google" (Carterton).—lt is said that B. J. T. Bosanquet's father conceived the idea of an off-break delivered with a leg-break action, but it was B. J. Ti who first dared to bowl it in first-class cricket. He told a friend that the first "wrong 'un" he ever sent over in Test cricket bounced three times before it hit the startled Warwick Armstrong's wicket. That was in Sydney, 1903. "Mother of Five" (Miramar). —At latest reports, the favourite for the socalled Canadian "Stork Derby" wa3 Mrs. Matthew Henny (33), mother of 17 children, 11 of whom were born in Miller's ten-year period. Allan Robieson asks the name of the poet who wrote the verses beginning: Beyond the East the sunrise, beyond the West the sea, And East and West the Wander Thirs* that will not let me be. «• » * IN TELEPHONE TERMINOLOGY. Passed -on to us by "K." If she wants a date—meter. If she comes to call—receiver. If she wants an escort —conductor. If she tries to pick your pocket—de« tector If she's slow in comprehension—ao celerator. IS. she goes up in the air—condenser. If she's hungry—feeder. If she's a poor cook—discharger, j If she eats too much —rectifier. i If her hands are cold—heater. If she hums and stutters—insulator. If she wants a holiday—transmitter. If she talks too long—interrupter. If she's narrow in her views—ampli* fier. If she 'never comes to time —cxi changer. And if she's always on the lineoperator. , Number please. | * * ] KNOCKERS' CLUB. This cheerful nonsense has broken out in Australia, and threatens to spread like measles in an orphanage. However, that's the Aussies' affair. A. few more tap, taps from the Postscripts gang. "Caballero" — Knock, knock. Who's there? Mudge. Mudge who? Mudge ado about nothing^ Knock, knock. Who's there? Orphan. Who's orphan? Orphan on again. "Phoolish Phred"— Knock, knock. Who's there? Jim. Jim who? Jim mind opening the door?! Knock, knock. Who's there? Esther, Esther who? Esther stuff to give 'em, Knock, knock. Who's there? Ken, Ken who? Ken I come in? TC i Knock, knock. Who's there? Alby; and Willoughby. Alby and Willoughby; who? Alby your sweetheart, you Willoughby mine. "Henry Horsefeather" — Knock, knock. Who's th,ere? Horaca, What Horace? Chamber of Horace! ■, "Nic"— Knock, knock. Who's there? Ely«, Elva who? Elva night, isn't it? , • * • BECAUSE OF THESE" We find Life sweet Because of these — The warmth of sunshine, Shade of trees; The ecstasy Of love first born; The breathless hush Before the dawn A prayer to God— A friendly smile— Each one of these Makes Life worth while. A sudden squall Of driving rain; The wondrous ease That follows pain; A valley veiled ■ In morning mist; The golden broom The sun has kissed. ( First star to gleam At close of day; i A friend with whom To tread Life's way; j " A kindly thought ; To right the wrongAll these we find Make Life a song. M.A.S. Wellington South. * * ♦ HELL. When the weather makes American; national news a place called Hell* Michigan, is likely to get into it somehow. Last year newspapers were not above informing their readers that Hell had frozen over. In the midst of! the recent heat wave in the States ono sheet announced that Hell was fairly roasting. There is no Hell in Michigan, as a matter of fact, and officially; there never was one. In 1841 George Reeves, a storekeeper, and his brother-in-law, Timothy Allison, of Pinckney, Michigan, bought a nearby section on a lake, set some 75 men to work building a dam, mill, distillery, house, andi store. Shortly after the distillery started, the Government ordered revenue stamps on whisky. According to one legend, Squire Reeves snorted:; "This is hell!" According to another, Squire Reeves, when asked to name his community, replied: "I don't cars what you call it; call it Hell if you like." The name stuck, though the place was to be found on no map, never had a post office, a church. Fifty years ago much of Hell burned down. Later the distillery was abandoned. Twelve years ago a real-estate firm acquired Hell, turned it into a touris^ resort under the name Hi-Land Lake. The "old-timers" in Pinckney, which serves as Hi-Land Lake's post office, still Call it Hell, still think jokes about it funny. An old favourite is: "My grandfather helped raise Hell." Recently Pinckney, with 102 degrees, boosted that it was two degrees "hotter'n Hell."