BY THE WAY

Evening Star, Issue 22212, 14 December 1935, Page 2

BY THE WAY

[By X.Y.] ** The time has come, the Walrus said, u To talk of many things.” This is a roseate age for correspondence courses. There appears to be no limit to the'variety of subjects which the vendors of wisdom and knowledge fancy they can teach through the post. An excellent state of affairs for the Post Office, no doubt. And who are wo to deny that the system is a great boon to the young people in isolated rural areas and others who find difficulty in fulfilling their ambitions through normal channels? Yet we think that the time is coming when a line will have to he drawn somewhere. There should certainly be a close season for such as the correspondence school for horsemanship whose existence has been revealed to a Hamilton mercantile firm. _ Needless to add, this school is in America—Ohio, to be precise. Now, everybody must acknowledge the colourful skill of American horsemen; if the subject matter of Wild West novels and motion pictures is to he credited, it must bo very good. However, although it may he possible to impart information by post on the care of the horse and on the dietary needs of the nose-bag, we cannot see how long-distance tuition is going to teach a neophyte in the equestrian art to retain his or her seat in'the emergency situations sometimes created by unruly quadrupeds. After all, this task of occupying the saddle with dignity, poise, and certainty of tenure is rather important. When we look around Dunedin and observe the riding styles of some amateurs we cannot help wishing that a correspondence school professorial staff or anybody at all could come to the respue. But, alas, the prospect seems too good to he true. *.* * * The Republic of San Marino (Italy) is still officially at war with Turkey, owing to her signature being omitted from the treaty of Lausanne, although she was Italy’s ally. A Turk, arriving to study local agriculture, was, in consequence, recently expelled.— (Cable.) When Italy engaged the Turk And made (thereafter) peace, Ono might infer that dirty work Would consequently cease; But when they both agreed to sign Their treaties on the dotted line They totally forgot, Designedly or not, Heroic San Marino, Pugnacious San Marino, Extremely small, but hot. The troops of Istambul' and Rom® Decided it was good To cultivate their veg. at home. And stop their deeds of blood To deck their hats with olive sprigs, And sit beneath their vines and figs Henceforth for evermore. But just as heretofore. Neglected San Marino, Forgotten San Mar no, Was still, it seems, at war. You see, a little one-horse State Of fourteen thousand folk Was reckoned, by the Wise and Great, A sort of feeble joke. If Rarotonga went, wo’ll say, To fight against the U.S.A., ’Twonld earn less ridicule, For cheek supremely cool, Than tiny San Marino, Cdck-sparrow San Marino, At war with Istambul. So peace was signed, and everyone Assumed that ponce was made; And, thinking the war was done, Went back to normal trade. Italian ports received supplies Of Oriental merchandise (And vice versa, too), But still, though no one knew, Resentful San Marino, Disgusted San Marino, The battle-ensign flew. Her troops were still in arras, it seems (Nine companies, or ten) ; \ Her women woke at night, with dreams Of savago Mussulmen; And so, for years and years, the land Has made this great heroic stand Against the hated foes, Successfully, one knows, Because in San Marino, Victorious San Marino, No Turk has shown his nos®. One Turk arrived the other day-, But failed to penetrate; For San Marino’s brave array Repulsed him from their State. They flew to arras and drove him out, In utter cataclysmic rout— A glorious, valjaut deed! So, Turks, take care, and heed-. You’ll find small San Marino, Defiant San Marino, Invincible indeed! • • • • Brevity may bo the soul of wit, but occasionally we come across instances that provide the inevitable exception. One in authority on tho newspaper to which we have the honour to contribute has shown us a letter which reveals that even an educationist will have his little joke. ■ Intended, we fake it, as a simple “ Thank you,” it acknowledges the receipt of an article for which no charge was made. Here it is:— “ Please accept my thanks for your practical courtesy in waiving so grandiloquently rectorial shekels. This is a derivative from my horticultural amenities course which has not before been envisaged by the vectorial imagination. The primary idea was the objective interpretation of our traditional Imperial enthusiasm by coming to actual grips with Nature—not merely bathing ourselves in the auroral mists of rhetorical sentiment, but by eliminating in actual practice noxious botanical

growths from the superficies of tho circumjacent Empire, teaching the young idea how to servo the State and Empire, and translate rectorialiy engendered idealism into practical service. But your tribute opens up another vein, and is an oblation to this shrine which is revenue-producing. That muchly titillates and is a commendable sentiment in one so young.”

Dunedin has always faced tho risk that her occasional fogs would get her into a difficulty some day. It has taken bird-men to bring this point home with sufficient force to make us sit up and take notice. Until recently we residents of Dunedin have been inclined to b® tolerant in our attitude towards the dull atmospheric envelopment which now and then hides the beauty of the surrounding hills. At such times it has not always occurred to us that beyond those hills the sun might be shining with all his might on a smiling countryside. But now tho Public Works Department. which has the interests of the flying folk at heart, is holding a kind of pistol at our heads. Quite rightly, aviators object to flying blind in a fog, and, rather than face such a contiii-. gency. fain would swoop to rest at Waikouaiti.

That is one up for Waikouaiti. It is apparent that, unless Dunedin establishes an emergency landing ground there, commercial flyers may avoid us as they would a plague spot. The position is serious, but not altogether hopeless. The batterings in City Council and Chamber of Commerce circles indicate that all difficulties are likely to bo overcome. Long ago it was suggested that Waikouaiti should he the deep-water port of Otago. Posterity,and the Otago Harbour Board in particular, knows well that the idea was rejected. It seems strange that Waikouaiti should now unwittingly come to the rescue of Dunedin in this matter of providing an airport. Hats off to Waikouaiti! * * * * Mention of Waikouaiti recalls to our memory that somewhere in the hills behind it is a charming spot called Buckland’s Crossing. To it last week-end motored a friend with a party, all of whom muchly appreciated the utopian qualities of that haven of peace- The picnickers had thrown off all their cares and were congratulating themselves on their temporary escape from city noise and bustle when an ominous sputtering in the distance disturbed the equanimity of their holiday minds. Almost before they had had time to prepare themselves for the shock tho menace was upon them. It turned out to be a full-throttled battery of motor cycles, the property of young club members making the most of a field dgy. Reference to the presence of the Motor .Cycle Club in great strength should be sufficient to describe the unhappy nature of tho interruption. “ To us they appeared as fiends incarnate,” said our friend. “If the sort of thing they do is called relaxation, I’d just as soon push a wheelbarrow up Flagstaff for fun. An Italian Tank Corps in full cry could hardly have made more noise. But what can you do? It is a free country,_more or less, and these infernal machines are permitted by law to exist.” Wo duly sympathised with.our friend, but had nothing really sensible to say. In a more primitive country than ours it might be possible to mobilise motor cyclists and, send them to Abyssinia as despatch riders. The i reverberations would certainly harmonise with the assorted noises of the battle areas.

Reporting on the attempted escape of five convicts in America, a New York message states that all the prisoners were recaptured, dead or alive, within two hours, but only after a wild chase by hundreds of policemen, a fireman, and prison guards armed with rifles, riot guns, and 'tear gas bombs., The fireman must have been a big help, but just think how easily the feat would have been accomplished if, say, a couple of Dunedin’s conscientious traffic inspectors had been oii the job!

Mr De Valera (so says a London cable message) received Mr Meredith and some members of _ the All Blade team, who presented him with a silver badge in the form of a New Zealand problem. A question which arouses interest is: Which problem? The low level of produce prices, threatened quotas, or the unemployment problem ? * * * A story, heard the other day, which illustrates the easy-going goodfellowship of the Prince of Wales:— Shortly after the armistice the Prince was doing the rounds of the divisions which formed the army of occupation in Germany. Included on the visiting list were the headquarters of a New Zealand brigade. The commanding officer noticed that H.R.H. was wearing insignia in which was included the 0.8. E. ' “ But surely, your Royal Highness, he remarked in_ a tone that conveyed his non-recognition of the 0.8. E. as a very important award, “ it is not necessary for you to wear that.” _ ■ “ Why not?” asked the Prince with a characteristic laugh. “Itis a great honour —‘ Only Blighters Eligible,’ you know.” » * * * Our latest All Blades, Both forwards and backs, Are “ iffy,” uncertain, and weak. Whenever they win It’s just by the skin Of their teeth, as it were, so to speak— The nearest and narrowest squeak. Each team that they play Is better than they For science, endurance, and pluck. They fail, it is said, To conquer N.Z., By nothing but horrible luck— The stickiest fortune that’s stuck. They tackle and pass. Their forwards, en masse, Employ irresistible weight, In deadly assault Which nothing can halt Except unaccountable Fate. They get there a trifle too late. They’re always on top. Our fellows can’t stop - Attacks so determined and strong. But just as they’re sure Of getting a score Misfortune comes sneaking along. There’s something that always 'goes wrong. Some chap must have killed A spider, or spilled The salt on his table, or sat With twelve other chaps At dinner (perhaps) Or slaughtered his neighbour s black cat. (It’s fatal, of course, to do that.) From all that we read Misfortune, indeed, Has run to unheard-of extremes, When players whose style Is most infantile, Devoid of deliberate schemes, Should conquer such excellent teams!