A HONEYMOON ADVENTURE

Evening Star, Issue 23189, 11 February 1939, Page 3

A HONEYMOON ADVENTURE

(Written by J. J. Stroud, for the ‘ Evening Star.’) I certainly did not covet, my neighbour’s wives—not wife, by the way, for ho had seven. Daily, as the sun rolled towards Tibet, they followed their lord and master in single file along the byways of Summer Hill, the favourite loading and the others according to precedence, or, more likely, popularity. As I had recently acquired one sweet little wife for my very own, my interest in the neighbour’s harem didn’t run to thrills, even when wo passed the pompous potentate on a narrow mountain path, and seven pairs of Oriental eyes peeped through the slits in their voluminous, shroud-like garments, as the P.P. waved them to one side to let us pass and salaamed deeply to Sweetest.

“ Oh, darling! Isn’t he just lovely? ”

“ Yeah.” I replied. Seven years in the land of rajahs and their wives don’t tend to make one loquacious. As we .rounded a spur on the hillside I pointed out the Rajah’s abode, a frowning, castle-like residence perched on the very edge of an overhanging mass of rocks. “ That,” I said, "is where the blighter lives.” " Darling, how gorgeous I”

And as the sun rolled away to Tibet on the following day, we met the procession again, and—on a narrower path-' way.

I am not unduly imaginative, but J certainly didn’t like the look in the old sinner’s eyes as he rescued Sweetest from a possible disaster as we passed, and, salaaming deeply, retored her to the pathway. It was, to my mind, the exact look a rajah might have who was considering an eighth wife. I fancy I scowled at him as we passed and audibly consigned him to jahannam. There are pathways under the spreading rhododendrons of Simla that, as the sun burnishes the beautiful blossoms with a vesper benison, no sane honeymoon couple could or would avoid. And it was on one of these the wily Oriental set his trap. A long white canvas bag suddenly descended from somewhere and enveloped mo. Next moment, in spite of my desperate struggles, I was roped and hound in the thing beyond even a kick. Sweetest fared a little better, for I heard her merry laughter and “ Oh, boy, isn’t this simply thrilling! ” I hand it to Sweetest to get a kick out of life under' any circumstances. Me —I tvas being roughly bundled along a mountain path, most of the time upside down, and 1 certainly wasn’t, thrilled at all.

“ Oh, darling, you do look priceless.” That from Sweetest as a final ray of the benison shone through the rhodos. on the tied-up bundle that was me.

1 could only mumble a nasty remark or two through the canvas—like a pig grunting on his way to the abattoirs. And. that was about how I felt, too. " Listen, darling,” from Sweetest, "Don’t worry. If I can’t diddle that fat old Hindoo I’ll eat my .” I didn’t catch her latest item on the menu as our captors seemed to bear us apart, and I was tossed into a cell of sorts and left to ruminate.

With patience v and the skill of a Houdini I got me out of the canvas bag and, m the dark with expert fingers, explored my prison. It wasn’t as oad as I had supposed. A comfort-able-feeling charpoy occupied one corner. A small latticed window let in a ray of pale moonlight, and, groping round the walls, I found a switch and flooded the room with electric light. 1 climbed up to the small window and gazed out over the plains of India. “ Not too hot,” I admitted to myself, and threw myself down on the charpoy to think things over. After a while I heard voices somewhere over mv head, and the sound of music and laughter: then a series of light taps like Dm heel of a shoe on a wooden floor. It ivas the heel of a shoo tapping. . . . Sweetest tapping Morse code; “ Darling . ... Darling . . . Darling. ...” 1 stood up on the charpoy and. with my fountain pen, tapped ligbtlv in reply: “Honey. . . . Are you 0.K.?” “ Listen.” she Morsed. " I’m having the time of my life; dining with the kidnapper. . . ! He’s reciting to me an enlarged version of the Song of Solomon.”

I cursed heartily. ‘‘Steady, boy.” she tapped. “Ho might hear you.” “ Dammit,” 1 tapped back. “ do you think I’m going to stand for that swine. ” A burst of music swallowed all other sound for a few minutes.

“ Nautch giris, darling,” Sweetest explained with the heel of her shoe. “Glad you can’t see them.” And 1 actually heard a trill of merry laughter. . . . Sweetest was laughing. “ What’s the joke? ” I tapped viciously and split the pen. A stream of ink ran down my sleeve. “ The (Rajah . . ” “Well?” I tapped, again impatiently. “ Says . . “Go on.” I tapped, and cursed the speed handicap of Morse. “ A r ou can have his seven wives in exchange for me.” I swore heartily, and dual laughter broke out overhead.

“ Listen, honey,” the heel tapped as the Nautch girls seemed to get busy again. “ He’s saying things about my eyes you never even thought of.” “ Oh, shut up,” I tapped rapidemento, and added: “Can’t you poison the beast? ”

“ Keep calm, darling,” the heel replied. “Just think of it—eight wives for one,” and added: “ Leave it to me, precious. I’m just going to sing to him. Listen carefully.” I listened. . . . ‘ Annie Laurie.’ and Sweetest could sing. And all the while, as she held beast spellbound, she tapped out a parody: The Raja's got an airplane. He don’t know I ran fy; I'm going in his airplane And he is gonna die. With a voice like a nightingale she repented the usual line, and tapped out for me: To-morrow you'll he rescued For he is gonna die. And next day I heard the zoom of a plane and chuckled to myself, for if there was anything Sweetest could do better than s : ng it was fly. “ Easiest thing in the world, darling,” she laughed, as she burst into my prison with a squad of grinning Ghurkas from Government House. “ Cracked him on the head with a spanner, looped, and left him taking a header for Tlmballn. Cpmo on. darling. Home. Janies!” What a wife!

CGOTLAND'S INDUSTRIES The report, of the Scottish Economic Committee, jest issued after an investigation extending over two and a-half yeans, points to some brighter ■ possibilities than present themselves to some of our Jeremiahs. Seven light industries are summed —canning, linen, furniture, hosiery, heating apparatus, boots and shoes, and electrical equipment—in all of which important suggestions are made for development, and the view is expressed that Scotland can both develop the existing industries and add to their number, ns experience on the Hillington Industrial Estate ha« proved. Scotland has great industrial advantages in labour and skill, hut the suggestions in the report for greater attention to modern. factory lay-out and organisation, schemes of training operatives, and the employment of

skilled designers, together, pith greater co-operation between firms with * common interest, deserve the most careful study with a view to well-con-sidered action.—‘ Weekly. Scotsman.’ GLADSTONE’S 1168 CABINET On December 15, at the famous Devonshire Club in London, a remarkable dinner was held to commemorat* the seventieth anniversary of the formation of Gladstone’s first Cabinet. Th# diners were Lord Goschen, Lord Aberdare, Mr W. Gladstone Wickham, the Duke of Argyll. Lord Granville. Lord Clarendon. Mr Phillip Bright, the Duke of Devonshire. Mr Charles .A. Gladstone, and Lord Kimberley. All were descendants of distant relatives of colleagues of the “G.0.M.” or of the “ G.0.M.” himself.