The Inside Story

Northern Advocate, 22 April 1939, Page 1 (Supplement)

The Inside Story

by the “PRIVATE D.”

Robin Hood and his

merry men a party of Whangarei sportsmen annually dedicate their holidays to following the venison trail. This year they pitched their tent in the heart of the forest, southward of Tarawera mountain, far distant from the dwellings of men and of traffic inspectors. Generally, it is the wish of the sportsmen to remain anonymous, but one put the rasher in the National Bacon Plf Championship and another, who favours Kauri rather than oak, is a well-known hospital administrator.

JN close collaboration Vith the tin opener and the frying pan the first few days of . the expedition passed fully and pleasantly. Tramping over rough country, away from where, the pavement ends, called the muscles into play even more than the quarter of an hour radio jerks session, and it was not long before signs of fatigue became apparent. Came a day when an expedition far afield was planned in honour of the elusive stag. Staging a lie! down strike, the farmer member of the party refused to budge from the camp.

H E was informed chidingly that stags would not be found in his bed, but al the persuasion in the world would not shift him from his bunk except to accompany the others to the 1 foot of the track leading to the blistering wilderness. It was a triumph for direct inaction on the part of the farmer.

gain a better conception of what transpired later in the day it is [necessary to have a clear picture of the topography of the camp in mind. The tent stood on the edge of a small stream in a gully, with a steep hill on one side. It was the habit of the huntsmen, returning from their day’s sport, to give tongue as of a stag calling to its , kind. Consequently, when the sound of roaring near at hand came to the ears of the sole guardian of the camp, he dismissed it with the belief that it was his companions returning. clear as a Bell, came the roar. By this time fully aroused, the weary one peered round the tent fly. Imagine his surprise when he saw, projecting above the edge of a wallow, and not more than 50 yards from the camp, the antlers of a stag. Shaking himself to prove that it was not all just a dream, the sportsman seized a rifle in one hand and his pyjama strings in the other.

fpHE stag made off up the hill, hotly pursued by the man of ease, now thoroughly aroused. Dodging among the undergrowth, the quarry made sighting for a shot very difficult, and, in the excitement of the moment, his

WHAT HAPPENED AT A STAG PARTY

pursuer let go of the pyjama cord with startling revelations for the fern and tea tree. After a few chains of scrambling, however, the sniper made his kill. OHANTING feelingly the theme song from the Seven Dwarfs —“Heighho, heighho, Home from Work We Go,” the two energetic huntsmen returned soon. after, dead weary and without an antler between them. They could hardly beiieve their mortified eyes when they saw one of the best heads of the trip lying within a few yards cf their camp!

EVIDENTLY a Northland lady who filled in her social security registration form objects to one of the questions asked as being rather personal. Opposite the query “Sex of applicant” she wrote: “None!”

gELLING one of the tinctures which are guaranteed to kill the unpleasant breath odours arising from the consumption of onions, pale gin or garlic sandwiches a local traveller made himself a martyr to the cause. Preferring his samples to the manager of a large Northland emporium, he was dared to try the efficacy of his own mixture after swallowing a quart or so of onion essence (used in soups, etc., to give the flavour, and exuding at all times, onion odour in concentrate). Displaying the true martyr spirit of a real salesman, our hero took a generous sip, followed by a drop of his magic potion, and—lo and behold—his breath remained as pure as the new mown hay. So efficacious was this practical demonstration, that the salesman procured a bottle of this concentrated onion odour, using it tc convince others among the sceptical.

KAIKOHE businessman was placed in an amusing and yet annoying position when, having an appointment in the country, he instructed his assistant to drive his car from the garage. The assistant drove the car onto the road, and, as his employer was waiting, he left the engine running, and stepped out onto the road. Unfortunately he let the door s,lam, and when an endeavour was made to open it, it was discovered that the door had locked. All the other doors were also firmly locked from the inside, and the keys were on the dashboard.

'J'HE engine continued to run, and the

employer and the employee made repeated and futile efforts to open the doors, but nothing happened. A large crowd soon gathered, and volunteered assistance, and advice to the perspiring couple, but to no avail, and it was not until another motorist, with a similar make of car arrived on the scene some time later with a spare key, that the car doors could be opened.

century

gEGINNING on March 1 of this

year there was held at Buenos Aires a conference at which there were delegates from every country in the world. The occasion was the fourteenth Congress of the Universal Postal Union, which represents the greatest and most successful experiment in internationalism.

TOOTHING quite like this organisation has been seen. Its story is well worth re-telling.

rpHE delegates to the congress met,

this year, as in the past, on a basis of equality and friendship, and with one common aim in view—to assist in the smooth working of the modern postal service, which is probably one of the greatest human achievements of universal benefit that mankind has ever known.

gULLY to appreciate what universal

postage means, it is necessary to go back to the middle of the nineteenth

by that time the penny

post was a commonplace in England, international postage was in a state of chaos. The cheapest rate in the world —fourpence for a quarter ounce letter —existed between England and France. The cheapest rate to Germany was twice that sum, while letters to South America, to mention only one instance, cost 2/2 per half-ounce. To