PASSING NOTES.

Huntly Press and District Gazette, Volume XXII, 5 July 1932, Page 1

PASSING NOTES.

♦ ‘There’s a chiel amang ye takin notes! T faith he’ll prent it.” By “THE CHIEL” THE RUBAIYAT OF SLUMP. The sun of sweet Success has sunk from sight, And plunged the world in deep financial night, Through which some vain and transitory beams Give promise false of Things becoming bright. The era grand of profitable boom Has given place to unremitting gloom, And all the good old times of yore Have sunk beneath a harsh and damming doom. Prosperity men set their hearts upon Has faded quite, and into Limbo gone, To bring Her back surpasses all our skill, And eke the wisdom of King Solomon. The World is filled with argument and talk About the way Depression we may baulk, And bring the good old times again—but, 10, The Spectre 1 ages, and will not cease j to stalk. Strange is it not of all the millions who Boast they can get the world out of this stew, Not one can say, when to brass tacks we come, A single thing that he can vouch as true. And mighty experts, great men, world renowned, Find themselves disgraced instead of crowned, The test of time has proved their vauntings vain, Their Prophecies nothing else but sound. Some sigh for solid cash, and some For a Paper Paradise to come, Where bank notes fly in flocks like ocean birds, And Credit piles sky high on empty drum. And Quids we had, the crinkliest and the best That finger ever in hip pocket pressed, Have melted into air, have disappeared, And, one by one, gone gently galley west. A box of sovereigns underneath the bough To bathe the hands in, would, I swear and vow, Outweigh a mighty mass of flimsy notes, For me ’twould make a Paradise enow. The following police story is worth repeating. The incident occurred in a dredging town in Otago. One Barney Flynn was a hatter who worked alone on his claim up the range, and came into the township once in a blue moon, celebrating the occasion by getting a skinful. One night as a young Constable was prowling round, he found Barney stretched out fast asleep, on the cycle track by the roadside, along which men W’ould shortly be riding home from the 12 o’clock shift, so he arrested Barney for being drunk and obstructing traffic. Next day before the local storekeep J.P., the culprit was asked, “What is your name?” “Barney Flynn!” “Occupation?” “Roman Catholic.” Barney got off with a lecture. The more one thinks of dreams, the

more mysterious they become in spite of Freud and his school. Lately I dreamed that I was myself in another body, sang—and sang well, too—a song in an utterly unknown language, the refrain of which I still remember, although I never could sing, and have a poor ear for music. The tune was not after the European mode of music, neither was it after the Chinese or the Maori, as far as I know them. Furthermore, when I woke up immediately after the dream, my organs of speech still carried memories of the strain they had been put to in pronouncing the gutturals and nasals of the unknown tongue. Where the deuce did the dream come from? Is it a memory of a past life, of a life of one of my forbears, or did it come out of nowhere into here? Bit of a monkey puzzle! Talking of bank notes, it may not be generally known that they pay taxation at the rate of 45 per cent, and that the total cost of a note issue exceeds 65 per cent, per annum. These are the facts that politicians as a rule don’t know. Those who learnt Latin at school may remember reading Caesar’s Commentaries. II is first campaign in Gaul was to chase the Germans back over the Rhine. The same old struggle is still going on. To-day the Gaul is on top. Never mind! The Deutscher will get his innings by and by. In the meantime the rehabilitation of the world is held up by two thousand year old jealousies. The way things are going at present, I can see an absolutely new kind of society being built up in New Zealand in which every one will live on a sustenance allowance, and no one will work. May that day come soon. I could do with a long holiday. An American Convention fou nominating a president seems to have Donnybrook Fair licked into a cocked hat, barring the absence of shillalaghs. The noise must be stupendous. It would be a kindness to human animals to elect only deaf men as delegates. For ages our politicians have been borrowing money from John Bull for the construction of reproductive public works. If these had been as reproductive as alleged, we would not feel the load of interest so much. Any university graduate writing a thesis for his doctorate should find this a gcod subject. To cheer our men for Ottawa Doth the people all behove, For Coates is full of manly grit, And Stewart is a downy cove. STUDENT TOURISTS * # The touring party of South African students who sailed for home recently, after six weeks in Great Britain and Europe, took away with them many interesting impressions of European countries and particularly from Britain. Some of them are:— The most beautiful women in the world are Polish. ( London is the finest city in Europe.

e Paris women are even better dres--1 sed than they are in London. Warsaw is incredibly dirty, Berlin - is spotless, and London is midway. The new architecture of Germany - is hideous and yet fascinating but , the best architecture we saw was on 2 the London Underground. 1 The students said they had seen c nothing on the Continent to compare 5 with London for traffic, and considered I the traffic control “almost miracu- , lous.” English clothes were the best and t cheapest they had ever seen. 1 Oxford they called a “nest of out--2 of-date traditions and affectations.” ’ Not only were British politicians i “gentlemen,” which greatly surprised L them, but they were puzzled and att tracted by the reserve, humour and moral force of the mass of the people. “All the way over we were talking : of the decay in Britain. Now we - have seen something of her and the . Continent, we are certain she will > pull through at the top of the list. ■ There is no nation to touch her.”