KEROSENE TINS

Greymouth Evening Star, 1 December 1925, Page 3

KEROSENE TINS

THINGS THAT MATTER. Till I came to the Dominions, I knew little of them (writes “A.A.A.” from New Zealand to the Daily Chronicle) .Now I know that they are of The Things- That Matter. Not in towns, perhaps, but in the backblocks; and next in importance come their cases. To begin with, I have seen a house built of kerosene cases —its roof was of kerosene tins. Not a great house perhaps, but the happy old-age pensioner who live in it, and who built it, thought it was prime. And there is a garage, the neatest place possible, where every possible kind of tool and duster and gadget is kept in a kerosene tin; all tins cut to fit, some of them falling forward like corn-bins, some with little circular holes, big enough for a hand to slip through, all polished aijd smart, and every one neatly labelled. . In a farm where' money is not too easy tins and their cases are everywhere. The shelves are made of the cases, so is the side-table and the chairs sometimes are nailed together out of the boards and roughly-turned legs are fixed on. The farmer milks into a. couple, slung over his shoulders by a yoke. The ducks and hens drink out of them —with a tin opener they can be cut smoothly to any size. z The dust pan is the top of one, all the stores are kept in them, and the milk is scalded in one. Of course, a big one makes a splendid pan for boiling jam, and an excellent crock to store eggs in. You can make a cake in a half one, cut lengthwise—and, indeed, I know one little farm that does all its quite good cooking in them. Bread is kept in them and all the dusters and blacking , things; and what better shelter for furs from moths than a fine big one, well and truly soldered In the garden they are invaluable. A shallow one to grow seeds in, and a row of big ones on the verandah for shrubs. These are painted according to taste, and look gay. With a selection of them, cut in various sizes, any child with imagination has all the toys he wants. And who can imagine a picnic without them? Of course the tea is boiled in one, and the boat is baled with half one, and the wild bees are robbed and the honey is harvested into one—blackberries are gathered, mushrooms are carried—what happy memories gather round kerosene tins ! The Kerosene Tin is a power in the land. It awaits its laureate—he is sure to come —only he 'ought to be a she. I give her a present of the first line:— “I sing the song of the Kerosene Tin ”