THINGS IN GENERAL.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLV, Issue 13778, 17 June 1908, Page 9

THINGS IN GENERAL.

PLANT PERSONALITY. -, I «was reading' something the other day about the personality of plants. A writer in the Nouvelle Revue, who has invented a new system of culture, which, has, had surprising results—l take it that he is another Burbankbelieves in the existence of a "vegetable animal," and in the principle that plants, like animals, live a natural life and not only have needs and desires, but an actual conscience. It is a very pretty idea, and why should it not be true? The truth is that man is a short-sighted animal, and his wisdom is exceedingly finite. Nature's storehouse is a wonderfully large and varied affair, and Man, if he only knew it, probably counts for very little. I shouldn't -wonder at all if Mother Nature has a sincere disgust for him, and while he is busying his puny little head with a lot of things that don't matter, she is working quietly in her granary, and producing - marvels'which he hasn't the slightest notion of. The proper study of mankind is man, we are told—but is it? Are there not other things better worth studying? Man has by force of habit got such an exalted opinion of himself and has so grown up with the idea that the universe was created lor his exclusive benefit that he rarely stops to ask himself if by any chance there is anything else worth looking at in it. What does he know of the process of the suns or the things that are in the earth or the waters under the earth? Here and there a man, commonly thought to be mad, slops a moment and picks an insect or a. plant up, and examines it—sometimes even, if'he is stark staring mad, spends a lifetime over it—but the bulk of us go on our way rejoicing that the world was made for us and other things- arc just here by accident. That's the common way of explaining phenomena we don't understand— accident; Huxley and a few hare-brained men like him, hold the infidel idea that there is no such thing as chance or accident. . For my own part, I. am quite prepared to believe that the vegetable kingdom knows just as much about love affairs and domestic happiness and infelicity as we do. I am prepared to believe that a tender little plant, disappointed in love, may wither away and diepossibly commit suicide. I have heard of a x dog committing suicide —it jumped deliberately into a fire, Hnd instead of trying to get out again allowed itself to be binned alive, because it was suffering intense pain from an injury to one of its legs. And if a dog will do such a thing, why not a plant? For all we know, some big male, gum tree here sends messages of love to some tall female, with spreading branches, in the heart of the Australian bush, sends them on the wings of the "wind; possibly the birds and the trees and the flowers know more about wireless messages than we do. I think Tennyson must have believed in the •" vegetable animal":—: .. »■ ; {There has fallen a splendid tear From the passion-flower at the gate.';-.. She is coming, my dove, my dear; She is coming, my life, my fate; . 9?he red rose cries, " She is near, she is near;" ' . And the white rose weeps, "She is late;" U'he larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;" And the lily whispers, " I wait." HIS NIBS ON SPEECH-MAKING. "I used to think it was easy to make fit. speech," said His Nibs, puffing his pipe with slow deliberation; " but it's like the lulls that are green in .the distance—the green's; in your eye .an' not on the hills «t all. I am gettin" old now, an'; I was "in a, fair way to cornpletin' life-without anakin' , a speech up till last week—an' then it came upon me, as the savin' is, like a- thief i' the night. ■■ It was the Journalists' Dinner that did it, an' bein' a sort of honorary member 6', the profession- an' also bein'. known to be fond I o' dinners, I .was invited to be present. It was gettin' near the dinner day when someone ■ whispered in' my ear— believe it was .the devil—that I'd be called upon for a speech. But once I've made up my mind to do anything neither the devil-nor j man can turn me off it; an' so I says to myself, ■■'Speech, is it? Well, 'aven't I 'card worse men than myself make . speeches? If they can make' era, why can]t I?,' After all, it's only words.' As a. precaution, I went to Dr. Purely an' ■asked 'im to make me up a mixture. He said he would have it ready for me ion the , night o' the dinner, an' sure -enough he did. The label on the bottle isaid: 'One tablespoonful one hour before speech.' He told me it was fine stuff, an' would kill the germ. ' Germ?' says 1. "The germ, to be sure,' says 'e. 'Look,' says''e —an he put a microscope into my .hand, an', lookin' through it I saw an . awful picture great, ngly-lookin' thing like a. thousand centipedes, aancin' a hornpipe. 'That's the nervous germ,' says Dr. Purdy; 'I'll kill it for you.' *' Well, the . dinner came on, an' I looked eagerly at the list of events. A lew toasts, songsim' impromptu speeches. 1 went off my food. No need to look twice. It was plain to me. that 1 was among the impromptus, an' when ,a man .finds 'imaelf in a pickle o' that kind, not knowin' whether he's' to be called on first or last you can't wonder 'it' he goes off his food. IE I took the doctor's mixture right away an' wasn't called on for over an hour the effect of cit would 'ave worked off, an' the germ would 'ave come to life again, an' it j*voidd only be money wasted; an', if 1 [•waited half an hour perhaps I'd be called 'on before the medicine had got properly gain', an" to get up an' try to make a. speech with the germ still kickin' would be just as bad. Besides, this impromptu business unnerved me. I expected to bo informed beforehand what I was to make a speech about, an' 'ere I was bein' kept in the dark. "'Lamb an' mint sauce?' says the iivailer. "'No,' says I. " ' Am?' says 'e.* "'No,' says —'beer.' I drank two glasses of beer, an' then breathed again, an' was able to look the chairman defiantly in the- face. Time passed, an' nothin' happened. Some were eatin', an' some were only pretendin' to. It is easy for folks who 'aven't to make speeches to eat. I drank the King's health in a sort of dream I drank to the Institute of Journalists in a nightmare; an' then I staggered behind the planner an' drank Dr. Purdy. It seemed as if a million germs had been let loose in me. 'Tea?' says the waiter. " No,' says ' 1. "'Coffee?' says '<«. ■ "'No,' says —'beer.' "I don't know whether it was the beer or whether it was Dr. Purdy, or whether the beer didn't agree with Dr. Purely, or whether the germs were determined not to die without a struggle, but 1 do know that when the chairman said: 'His Nibs will speak on the Sultan of Turkey,' I would 'ave fallen dead on the floor it my friend 'Tohunga' hadn't caught me in his arms. . Of what avail j were the sleepless nights I had spent in J making up speeches on the American fleet, the Coming of the Maoris, the Growth of the Imperial Idea, the Marvels of Wireless Telegraphy, the Lion and the _ Kiwi Compared, the Wonders of the Universe? Did any sane man expect to be called upon. ; to make a speech on the Sultan of Turkey? v "'Whisky?' says the waiter. "'-'•' , . - "'Water?' says 'Tohunga.' V ■■ - - "'No,' says I, dreamily—' !';'■'■ "I hardly knew what I was do in' or.! say-in', and I drank the beer more from; force of habit than anything, else. . Turkey j and Turks! chairman had taken on the features of the Terrible Turk; I could see I * colofeal turkey, strutting round the room*,

surrounded by a thousand Turks, who were 1 brandishing ugly knives in the air; and the .shipping reporter suddenly put on the dress of a Bashi-Ba/.ouk, and darted at me savagely from behind with a dagger in his hand. .'■• . They told me afterwards that I made a speech, but I have no recollection, of it. All I know* is that Mrs. Nibs called me for breakfast next morning in the usual wav. • ' ' - ' • ■•■. "' A TAX ON WIDOWS. "And why shouldn't we tax the widders?" asked His Nibs, thumping his list on the table.,- I'm with Mr.. Beiter, of Hurunui, an' I hope he'll be returned to Parliament an' pass a Widders' Bill. Bachelors an' widders, these two, an* the worst o' these, says the' novel, is the widders. If 1 'ad my way theie'd be no widders, no kind o' widders, spelt with a ' weo' or spelt any other, way! The man who doesn't get married isn't worth his salt, an' so I,say tax the bachelors an' the widder who doesn't get married again is a disgrace to her sex, air' so I say tax the widders. There's no use for single people in this .country, an' I say let's 'ave single lax. I appeal' to Mr. Fowlds to go an' support Mr.. Reiter, at Hurunui, as a, brother single-taxer. Even if Mr. Reiter isn't prepared to go as far as Mr. Fowlds, still he's prepared to go a long way, an' there's no telling but what Mr. Reiter is a coniiu Minister for Education. Whether Mr. Fowldfl will agree with Mr. Beiter as to settin' apart a. thousand acres on Cheviot for growin' fish remains to be seen, but I see no reason why Sir Joseph Ward should not agree to the experiment bein' made. If fish can be grown on Cheviot, by all means let us grow 'em, say I! The price we 'ave to pay for 'em now shows there's not enough in the sea to provide present requirements. If we can grow land sharks, why can't we grow hapuka an' sclmapper? "I'm digressin' a bit from the widders, an' I beg their pardon. Mr. Reiter is quite right about the tax, but I don't agree with the details. Now 'e says he'd tax the bachelors £1 a head from the age of 18 up, and widders 'e'd only tax 10s. That won't do. There's some excuse for a young man of 18 not gettin' married because maybe 'e'll not 'ave left college by then, an' 'ow could a boy of 18 find how many sides a triangle's got when >'e's worryin' over the grocer's bill, which his father won't pay for him. But widders!—it's widders weve got to beware of—they'd sooner go to a convent than marry again —an' so it's them I'd put the pound tax on. There's no excuse for a widder not marryin'. A boy of 18 hardly knows his way about at that age, an' maybe wouldn't know how to get married, but there's no excuse 1 for a widder, for she's up to. all the dodges, an' it's only mere stubbornness when she refuses to marry. ' . Put a tax on 'em. an' they'll soon be anxious to get married. Once get 'em anxious an' nothin' but suicide '11 save the men they set their widders' caps at. It's just as much an axiom that the widder who wants to marry a man marries 'im as it is that two straight lines bein' produced to the end o' the world won't meet. You see. no man can keep to a straight line for long, an' you can depend. upon it the widder an' the-man she wants will meet at the altar, as sure as there is an- altar, an' then the lines that will be produced will be the marriage lines." The Gexebai,. .