Trifles Light as Air.

Northland Age, Volume 3, Issue 22, 8 January 1907, Page 4

Trifles Light as Air.

A story is told that in prohibition Mildura (Vic.), before the introduction of the club system, and when it was really hard to get a liquor, an enterprising barber opened shop. His charges were fixed at shaving 9d, haircutting Is, with a glass of strong liquor thrown in. He would give a customer any brand of whisky. The scheme caught on splendidly. Visitors marvelled, and used to remark what a clean shaven place Mildura was. The community soon began to look as if it had been struck baldheaded. Strangers not in the know used to wonder why a man got his hair cut half-a-dozen times a day, or almost, had the skin 6haved off his face. Rechabites took to wearing beards and letting their hair grow long. If one was seen with a close crop, or newly shaven, scoffers would ask him if it had been a “ wine crop,” or “ whisky shave." But Mildura knows that barber no more. The clubs simply ruined him, for the people can now get liquor ad lib without getting their hair cut every time. As a rule “ In Memoriain ” verses are weird and wonderful in their construction. This one from the Melbourne “ Age ” is decidedly humorous : “We cannot clasp thy hand, Thy face we cannot see ; Yet let this little token tell We still remember thee.” Which implies that deceased still takes the “ Age,” asbestos edition presumably. Ho was the least trifle seedy, and looked like a British tourist whose fortunes had j ust started on the down grade. Still they don’t draw very fine distinctions in the sultry town of Rotorua, and when he drifted into the bar and hail a drink, and then ordered dinner, “ including a bottle of the best wine you have in the house, landlord,” he was served with alacrity. Having finished dinner and an extra bottle of wine, he sauntered on to the verandah, where the boss was walking up and down and fighting with the flie6. “ I have—haw—had an excellent dinner, landlord, very excellent dinner. Even the wine was not—haw—bad for the busli, but I regret, landlord, that I really can’t—haw—pay you, But ’’—here he turned round-“you may—er—kick me if you like.” And the landlord kicked enthusiastically without a word. The other week all the Sydney dailies came out with a big paragraph about a social function at a certain city undertaker’s establishment. It began with the cheerful heading “A New Hearse.” Then it went on to state that many Mayors and influential people met, by invitation, to inspect the bran-new liarrow, and how it was of an improved breed, with two masts and a centre board, bound in half calf, giving a beautiful clear light, with less than half the consumption of gas, docile, non-forfeit-ablq, guaranteed to keep accurate time and to pay 7 j per cent, endowment bonus; also, that it was a light smoking variety with good aroma and rifled in botjWherrels. The crowd, it was further repoijW, greatly admired the receptacle, and huff light refreshments among the coffins and the embalming apparatus. Also a social ghoul proposed a toast “ Success to the firm,” and trusted that it would carry many persons of affluence to the loam, and much embalming to do and plenty of bones to rattle over the stones. Likewise a visitor formally christened the new vehicle, and the gathering had a real good time like a lot of early Christians on the razzle-dazzle in the Catacombs,