LOCAL GOSSIP

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXII, Issue 22094, 27 April 1935, Page 1 (Supplement)

LOCAL GOSSIP

BY MERCUTIO This Easter-tide has been marked by B greater sale of Easter eggs than ever before, according to those who handle them and therefore ought to know. This has been taken as a sign that money is not too scarce. It mnst bo true up to a point, because the eggs have to be paid for, and in spot cash at that. Actually Easter lets us oif lightly compared with the exactions of Christmas, so a little easiness in the ■n-ay of chocolate confections could presumably still leave something over for the Easter Handicap. Actually the displav, and, of course, the sale of Easter eggs has grown markedly greater in recent years. It is said the custom of giving these things is of Russian origin. This may even be true, though there is usually some serious, erudite, joyless person about to tell us that the innocent stories and explanations with which we have been familiar from childhood are

all wrong. If this one actually is true, the growth in popularity of the Easter f egg surely cannot mean a subtle infiltration of Russian ideas. It should not be so, but one can't, be too careful. However, on the other hand, presentday Russia has probably said a complete farewell to so antediluvian and bourgeois a custom as giving eggs at Easter, so doubtless the youngsters can be permitted, to swallow this Russian custom and the Easter eggs without detriment.

Hot buns have also enjoyed an unusual measure of popularity. In this instance there need be no qualms about foreign or doubtful origins. The hot cross bun is a good old English institution of undoubted respectability. The fact that./ its origin is buried in the mists of time, that its parentage is supposed to have been pagan, need not matter in the least. It has lived down any stain /that its ancestry may have borne. Pagan the bun may have been in origin, but it is quite harmless in its effects as a rule. Incidentally, it is not so unseasonable in this country as many of the comestibles traditionally coupled with Christmas. One does not need to be very far on in years to look with waning enthusiasm on Christmas pudding in the height of an Auckland summer; Still it is easy, at almost any age, to contemplate a hot cross bun on Good Friday morning. The fall of the year has come and one can turn without any feeling of special incongruity to the maintenance of a good old world custom under very different skies.

A paragraph appearing a week or two ago about ducklings as • trophies for bowlers has caught the eye of a correspondent living as far away as Nelson. It may be remembered that the rules of. bowling described a trophy as something which could be engraved, which seemed to rule the ducklings out. At least Mercutio, in his haste, thought so, remarking that while ducklings might be engulfed they could not very well be engraved. The man from Nelson says his dictionary defines the verb " to carve" as " to engrave, or to cut figures." Now, ducklings certainly can be carved, as he says. Iherefore, one may engrave them, presumably, or cut their figures. Consequently a Philadelphia lawyer among bowlers—if v a bowler could be a Philadelphia lawyer—might put up very troublesome arguments about the proposal to rule ducklings out of order as trophies for bowlers. So it seems that the bowling authorities, like quite a few other people, may find themselves in a difficulty through having failed to define their terms before making rulings.

An observant Auckland motorist, recently returned from a tour, remarks that swaggers are now carrying small suitcases instead of the roll of blankets that for years has been their trademark. In other words, Matilda has taken a new shape. The reason given is that the motorist who would pass the man with the openly-displayed swag, giving him scarcely a glance, the chap with the suitcase is often offered a lift. Ah, well, it may be so, and all right, but it look; very much like the degeneracy of the times. How many of these suiteased gentry, for instance, would or could sleep underneath a wire fence and arise in the morning like a giant refreshed? Lots of people have thought, on first hearing about it, that to sleep unde- the bottom wire of a fence was'simply a fairy story, or, if true, an utterly ridiculous thing to do. Reflection shows otherwise. The shelter the fence gives is negligible, but the man stretched out under the wire cannot be walked upon by any nightwandering beast. There is a good reason for many of these things which at first seem so queer. But the suitcases, for some reason, recall a war story. An Australian on leave in London appeared as an amazingly refulgent object, with tailored tunic and breeches and brown gaiters and boots gleaming with polish. He was stopped and interrogated thus by an Australian officer of field rank " What is your occupation in civil life, my man?" " Drover, sir." " Drover. H'm." Then with an eloq.uent glance at all the glory, " I suppose you wear diamond-studded bowyangti, eh?"

A good f citizen relates this story of an adventure in shopping. He needed a certain article of clothing, one of the little details that go to make the complete costume. So, as often happens with the minor purchases, the lady of the household undertook to get it for him. In a shop she was offered the choice of three specimens. The first, made in Japan, was priced at eightpence, and, so far as could determined, was of sound quality. For the second, simply described as made in New Zealand, one and fourpence was required. The third, more particularly specified as made in Auckland, was priced at two shillings. Perhaps it could be demonstrated that the second two were superior in quality to the Japanese, but the question whether there was all the difference the price indicated would ask itself. What, then, was a good New Zealander to do in the circumstances, and what are many New Zealanders, who must perforce count the pennies carefully, to do in similar circumstances with which they are very likely to be-faced? For guidance, it may be said that in the instance quoted* the one and four penny one was bought. A compromise, which may not I always offer itself.

It seems that Mr. Robert Ripley, originator of the " Believe it or Not " screen features, has been telling the radio public, of the United States about the glow-worm cave at Waitomo. He went so far as to class it as the most wonderful sight in the world. This is very gratifying so far as it goes, but how far does it really go? Why have a champion of Waitomo who invites his lit: ers to disbelieve what he savs if they like?' What is needed is a eulogist who radiates conviction from every pore as the glow-worm radiates light. one of this believe it or not business, please. Instead, let us have an insistence that everything must be believed, and that even then the half has not been told.