BY THE WAY.

Evening Star, Issue 14036, 17 April 1909, Page 9

BY THE WAY.

hj I chance to talk a little wild, forgive k 1 had it from my father.-—' Henry The expatriated ancient Briton at this ■Season of the year can hardly help asking regretfully; Where are the hoi cross buns my youth? No doubt in the early days of Otago settlement no such Popish-like pastry was to be found in the land, but the non-Presbyterian leaven has long teen ■working here, and every Easter huge piles of buns with crosses on them find a place on confectioners’ counters and in their carts. Mostly, they are the common, everyday variety of bun, and nothing more. They are not redolent of spice, the currants are scantily distributed throughout the dough, and of candied peel there is scarcely a vestige. They were once hot, no doubt, but by the time they reach the customer’s table they arc as cold as the previous day’s loaf. For these reasons they-raise regretful sighs in the bosoms of the greybeards, where memory still delights to bring the happy visions of their youth. He recalls the time when, on Easter dawns, the vendors of buns were in svery city street, carrying huge baskets vwathed in green baize, and crying out

Hot cross buns; One a penny, buns; One a penny, two a penny, Hot cross buns. To the youthful the street cry was music indeed. The buns diffused an aroma of the Spice Islands; the fruit of Spain seemed to have been scattered with prodigal .hands; they were piping hot, and were kept hot for the breakfast that was early on Good Friday morning. For there were no laggards. Somebody must have been last out of bed, but it wouW be hard to say who breasted the bun feast oh the table last. The old superstition was that bread baked on Good Friday had medicinal virtues. A loaf was kept all the year, and a few gratings of it in water was regarded as a sure specific for diarrhoea. In more distant times quasi-religious cakes were offered to the Queen of Heaven by the devout in all countries, from China to Peru. Avaunt superstition of all kinds i but let us have hot cross buns worthy the occasion. *******

Matrimony flourishelh in Dunedin. ", Cheer, boys, _ cheer.” And girls, too. 3;on are scattering good abroad like anything. Cabmen, clergymen, photographers, and confetti manufacturers, to say nothing of an army of other business men, know prosperity. True love is not a eelfish delight, its joy is like sunshine. It gladdens the just and the unjust alike. ■Even bachelors catch the radiating rays from the sun of wedded love. The terribly _ thrifty queens of boarding-houses are influenced to exercise a pleasing generosity. ' There is a quaking at their hearts. They know not the day nor the hour when their tolerant lodgers wilj come home with flushed faces and jaunty steps to tell the ridings of their joyful capture. The glad- ringing of wedding bells is often a curfew tolling the sunset hour of a bachelor's freedom. Ring on, sweet bells! Since All Fools’ Day fifty-five marriage certificates have been issued by the enthusiastic registrar. And since the beginning of the year no fewer than 215 couples have applied tor “lines.” This “ although times are said to be hard,” as a ‘ Star’reporter puts it, as a kind of query. as a rule, is no guide to the condition of the times. Married men of a year’s experience say it is cheaper to be married than single. Husbands of longer trial and with settled convictions prefer not to talk of the financial aspect- at all. Their hearts are too full and their pockets too empty. Single men exist in lodgings, tortured by doubt, timidity, longing, and a mighty expenditure for very little’. So they think. If it had not been for the splendid statistics from the registrar there would have been a golden opportunity to give twelve members of Parliament capital billets as Royal Commissioners. Meanwhile, let _ love glide forward to complete happiness, it is better to wed and weep than never to wed at all. ******* Christcnurch, despite the charm and soothing influences of its Cathedral its gurgling gutters full to the lip with living water, its winding riverlet by elms and willows and English grass, its wfide levelness or flatness, if you will-staid, highly-civ iliaed Christchurch is a hotbed of notorious noise and amazing happenings. There, of a truth, good bishops are howled into pained silence bv a peculiar people; there the small, rasping voice of limited loyalty barks at the full moon of practical patriotism; and there, the English city of this free land, the Union Jack the symbol of freedom and common sense—has been trampled in the dust by British feet. So, at least, say newspper messages from Christchurch. The host of good people in the Cathedral City must be ashamed of their silly fellowcitizens who delight to play the part of i ,T, rc have beßn times when the loyal folk of Dunedin have blushed for the weaknesses of some of our citizens, who have forgotten to remember the Sabbath Day and keep it holy in their boyish zeal for healthy exercise on links, lakes, ana football fields. And. worse than that, we have had representative men in cloak and cassock, so to speak, who have gone bo far as to publicly call each other cowards—aye, and expletive cowards—when the sun went down on their wrath But at our very worst the Flag has ever been kept flying. Pshaw! We are as good as onr neighbors, and better. ■»**** #

In these days of public talk that knows no limit, it is not wise to say much or liLile too often about the weather. To do so IS to be charged with' poverty of sub]ec s. And m our case at anv rate such a charge would be a far pitch from the trn.n. We have as many subjects to discr • and can be as garrulous as a town connculor or a politician seeking re-elec-tion. To those who cry Enough! when weather is mentioned a word from the poet who knew his business—

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever. In Dunedin the day is aye fair as in the land o the leal. When it isn’t, the dav is usually wet. Some householders have' to draw then- drinking water from tanks. No doubt the cloud of unseen witnesses have noticed that, and have been kind. One man about Dunedin believes something of the sort, anyhow. He wrote to a Borough Council not so long ago, romindinr- the progressive (Heaven forgive the use of the word!) councillors that in the past God had always filled the tanks, and would do a> again, and there was no sense in burdening the poor people with excessive rates The councillors had more faith in a reservoir and piping and rates. Harkiim back to weather, we wanted to sav that for sportsmen Dunedin is the best plac° ns regards weather. If one Saturday be a tank-filling day, another will be drv. There is never any need to hold sports or the like on a Sunday. That is the dav to get ointment Wubed on the bruises on shinbones and to pray. The affair at Queenstown last Sunday shows that Port Chalmers is good as the Honeyipooners’ Haven any ******* TJe sacredness of the Sabbath is alleged w> be a beautiful necessity for Scotchmen. Perhaps it is. Some Scotchmen, however, have Men far below the standard of their Rmwwi ln , the matter of religion or Sabbath Day observance. They never want for a reason to explain their shortcoming. A good story is told of one Scotchman whose love for whisky was only equalled by his love for keeping the Sawbath. One bmiday he was unco fu’ by a roadside. A lady in a panic about her runaway poodle came to where Sandy sat and blinked with satisfaction “Would you kindly whistle my Fido back, she said to Sandy, who scrambled his feet and looked'at the poodle m the distance. He tried to whistle The whisky prevented success. He sank down by the roadside, with his face turning like the face of a Presbyterian minister denouncing a heretic “ Mv wumman ” said he, “this is no‘the day for whustlm J

The spirit of revolt stalks abroad, and rouses men. and mountains to active protest. Even the long-suffering General Manager of Railway's has turned to hit out atgrumbling volunteers. And Ngauruhoe viciously throws things at the smiling heavens, to the delight of Auckland pressmen. Away in the far country the terrible, Turk revolts against tyranny, and the more terrible Socialistic champions fly at each other, and break the ties, the red ties, of noble brotherhood. Nearer home passive men are out to rend the Government. The people begin to understand the true foundation of politics, and learn not to put their faith in politicians. There is something in the air these days that shakes sweet peace the world over as the wind bends a reed. The cause is not known. Perhaps there is none. Grumbling, it seems, is inevitable, like death. * * * * * * »

The sbwer of wild oats often reaps a harvest of husks. A good and true story is told of a New Zealand prodigal who, in his day, was sent a-roaming to learn wisdom. As he went away on his hopeless journey his mother talked very kindly to him, and presented him with a pretty prayer book as a beam of light in the darkness. The prodigal looked lightly on the gift, and stowed it deep down in his box. He never looked at the printed supplications. His eyes sought sport. Through the years that followed he had 'often drunk the cup of happiness to its dregs. Then he would write to his mother and tell her of the comfort tho pretty prayer book gave him in dark days. At length he tamed home. His mother was very kind. His father did not kill the fatted calf. She spoke tenderly of her gift. The prodigal was loud in his'praises, and told how carefully he had kept it. His mother begged to see the book. Tuey squgnt it out. She opened the book hurriedly, and lo! lying fresh and crisp against the title page was a ten-pound note. The prodigal swore. There is a lesson in the story. Momus.