HERE AND THERE

Northern Advocate, 7 November 1931, Page 6

HERE AND THERE

(By “Maloja.”)

Whangarei seems to bo smitten iby the physical culture microbe. At the places where men congregate one hears comparisons of the rates ' fat which avoirdupois is disappearing, and there seems to be a rare spirit of emulation. The staid citizens of the town do their weight reducing by stealth, as all good deeds should be done. Not so a couple of visitors to Whangarei. On Thursday morning I met them, veritable liliputians, walking at a smart pace up Bank Street. The weather was hot, but, in spite of that, they each wore a heavy overcoat, a big muffler wound round the neck, a cloth cap fitting well down over the ears, and thick woollen gloves. Perspiration was pouring from them, but, like good pupils, they kept going till their trainers sounded the “cease fire.” 1 wonder who and what, they were? Probably the solution could have been discovered when the horses were mounted at the race meeting. GO GO GO GO

The following are sentence sermons by the Rev. Roy Smith: May I suggest. ••, —That we quit .worrying about man’s origin and work on his,-destiny. < —That we get acquainted;,.with our enemies, fosf..y,’e pray like them. —That the man.who has nothing to dty seldom knows the value of other men’s time. —That we begin to appreciate some of our best friends before we lose them. —That the name of a great author cannot make a poor book great. —That if -we want an .honest police force that none of us ask for special favours. ' —That hate always docs the hater more harm than the one who is hated. B B □ B A little girl who lives not far from Whangarei returned home, from Sunday School, where the children had sung the hymn “Onward, Christian Soldiers.” Very proudly she .repeat- ' cd what she could remember to her mother, but when she came to the lino “Christ, the royal master, leads against the foe,” she translated it “the royal master leans against the phone!” Which reminds me of another Whangarei maiden who sang quite blissfully “Jesus bids us shine with a queer blue light” instead of “with a clear, pure light.” 0 B B B Consider the woman driver. She goeth like the wind. She changeth her mind like a butterfly. She mark* eth the new bonnet on that ’woman and the gown which adorneth the shop window, the while she misseth the stop sign, and when she putteth out her hand the truth, is not..jp

A small motor-car was approaching a 'level-crossing. The gates ,were open, but a train express could .be heard in the distance, “I think I can do it/* said the driver,, as he decelerated. “Bit risky, still—go ahead,” ventured the friend sitting next to him.

Then it was that a little man in the dickey leant forward and said: “I don’t care who wdns the race, but I hope it tvon’t be a dead-heat!” □ m 0 b “Easy street,” the Arkansas Gazette remarks, “is closed for repairs.” But observation shows that such street repairs as a rule result eventually in a smoother thoroughfare, , comments another American paper.

In view of the general election campaign in New Zealand, a statement made in London by Mr. Ghandi, is particularly interesting. Speaking of how he came to the “vision of voluntary poverty,” he said: “You will be astonished to hear from me that although to all appearances my mission is political, its roots are spiritual. ‘ ‘ I found, however, that if I wanted to do social service I could not leave politics alone. * “I came to believe in the necessity for. voluntary poverty for any social or political worker who "wanted to remain untouched by the hideous immoralities and untruths that one smells today in'ordinary polities. “When I found myself drawn into the political coil I‘asked myself what was necessary for me to remain untouched by immorality,' by untruths, by what is known as the political game. “This necessity for. voluntary poverty came to me first. It was a difficult struggle in the beginning. But I, came to the conclusion that if I were to serve the people in whose midst my life was east, and to whose difficulties I was a witness from day to day, I must discard all wealth —all. possessions.” 0 0 0 0

i BETTY NEVER WIPES HER SHOES. The doormat claimed proudly: "I recognise all The steps of the people who pass through the hall. There’s Granny, who, though she’s inclined to be slow, Wipes each foot with care, and then leaves me 'just so.’ There’s Daddy, whose boots are so heavy that I Am rather relieved when at last he’s gone by. And next comes a very brisk patter that feels Uncommonly like that of Mummy’s high heels. (And then, as for Betty’s shoes—” Betty’s shoes heard The doormat’s remarks; they had followed each word; But now they broke in: " ’Pon my sole, Mr. Mat, You don’t know what our steps are like, as to that; For we never touch you, my downtrodden friend; We’ve not wiped on a mat from year’s end to year’s end I” —Joan Burr, in the News Chronicle*