THE PASSING OF PORRIDGE

NZ Truth, Issue 602, 30 December 1916, Page 12

THE PASSING OF PORRIDGE

STANDS SCOTLAND WHERE SHE STOOD A KELTIC-MAORILANDER'S CRUEL DISILLUSIONMENT

Droothy Jock MacLachJan, one time M.H.R. for Ashburtbn, wasn't the last of the whole -hearted advocates of the virtues of that wholesome, though Homely dish, oatmeal porridge. Sir J. Grich ton -Browne declares he is a firm believer m the value of the mutton chop, and casts ridicule upon the root and seed-eating humans. ' But he says something more important, namely: If I;wanted to create a g-roup of mixed hooligans and imbeciles, I "would take a number of young children, half starve them from ,' time to time, and then -diligently, ply them with what is called a liberal education . If we Britons are | to hold our own among the, nations of the world," we must literally obey the divine command, "Feed my lambs." He then goes on to advocate the best diet for children, as it is also for grownups: ■ ■ . . Oatmeal porridge is the most nourishing, yet the -cheapest and most easily prepared meal ever placed on a. breakfast table. But Dr. Sir Jas. Crichtbn-Browne is a. Scotsman and therefore can't be accepted as an unbiased witness. Looking round for another, we come on the following m "Reynolds's Newspaper": ;• A bow,l;of porridge In every poor man's 'home dally throughout the year would soon produce a marvellous change m the physique of our young. Then reminiscent of fclaoriland's John MacLachlan, "Reynolds's advises us to: "Look at the Scots!" - I We are afraid that the famous rlenao- j cratic London weekly claims altogether ■ too much as the result of a "bowl" of porridge daily m the home. "'Either i that bowl must be a facsimile of Mr. i [tab Ha's, the Glesca glutton, or the j membership of the family be strictly, limited to one, m which latter case;' while the physique of the rising generation might improve, there would be scarcely a sufficient number of it to make it worth while. A young Maoriland friend of ours, whose grandparents on both sides were Scots, being on a visit to London, just prior to the outbreak of the world war, and who before leaving New Zealand had heard such a lot about Scots.physique, determined to go north and. taking the newspaper writer's advice, "look at the Scots." While sojourning m London he had heard many stories of Scots caution, Scots carefu'-ness (commonly called "meann^ssy by the undescerning Englisher), Scots consate and other traditional traits. He had heard' that the great lexicographer, Dr. Samuel Johnson, had defined "oats" as | v word indicating "a food for horses In England and men m Scotland." But the caustic Cocknies did not tell him of the reply of the more generous but perfervid Scot, to whose notice the j definition had been brought: "Ay, an' whaur will ye fln' sic men an' sic horses?" He had laughed at the pawkiness of the hired ploughman, who, while supping his half-gallon bowl of porridge, was interrupted by the farmer's wife saying: "Jock, there's a floe In your mulk!" "Ou, ay," said Jock, still supping away. "It'll no' droon." "Whit dae ye mean, yo gowk? Dae I no' gi'e ye eneugh raulk?" " 'Deed, ay, mistress," came the answer, "eneugrh for a' tb-o parriteh!" Ho had been told of sin Englishman, who, travelling m Scotland, had stopped one day to chat with a roudmender. "And what do you have for breakfast, my good man?" "Parrltch," replied the Scot. %"Oh, of course. Then what have you for dinner?" 1 "Parritch," was again the Laconic reply. "And when you go home after your day's work, what do you have then?" "Parritchl" "But you have supper bfcforo retiring for the night, have you not?" "Weel yo see, frien', we jist tak' three 'maels' a day m this pairt o' Code's world; though gin aiblins I gang oot a whilio at nicht to a 'co-op' mootln'. or to heckle a paurlimenter, or ale- like, an' there ony euuld parrltch loft owre, i daursay, I'd nik them," "And do you never tiro of porridge ?" asked tho Englishman m surprise. "Tire o' pnrritch! Tiro o' my feedlu'? Goviedick, no!" Thtfso and similar Ktories he had heard, ana with thorn fresh In his memory ho took train for Glasgow. On arriving at St. Knock's Station it waa late at night, so ho put up tit tho Stalion Hotel. Next morning thi»ro waa i seated beside hlrn at thu breakfast j tublo a big. brawny Scot, with should-

I ers "like the side o' a hoose," How superb! What marvellous physique! I This was a MAN I A waiter approached and asked what they would have. "Porridg-e!" cried our friend with enthusiasm. "Will you have porridge, too, sir?" This to the MAN. His reply came curtly, m that twang: peculiar to the people who dwell m the city on ihe river Stynx. "Naw!" he said, 'Tm wahntin' to leeve a whllie langer." , This seeming cryptic reply perturbed our friend somewhat; but after pondering over it a while, he concluded that this particular Scot was a bit of a crank, and . . . clearly, the porridge were not good. Breakfast ended, he went forth to spy out the land. Leaving the Square he turned toward the Trongate. Almost the. first individuals he met were two commissioners, both six feet " m height, and, after quite a number of average-sized men and women passed (non-porridge eaters; he concluded), there came two policeman, and their height was such as to at once rivet hia attention.; "Two noble Scotsmen," he soliloquised. "That's what porridge can do. I must speak to them." He stepped forward and, naming the first street name he could think of, heasked If either of them could direct him to "Cuba-street." "Begorrah," said one of the oobbies, "diwil a bit o' jrfe belaves there/s sich a strate m Glasgow, at all, at all! But, . wait a minut', plase." Then turning to his companion, he asked, "Div ye know ja Cubba-sthrate, Jlurphy.?" Murphy didn't. I "I see," said the Maorilander, "You're < not natives of Glasgow, and it Is not to ; bo expected that you should know the names of all the streets m a city like this." , • Thanking the policemen, he turned and boarded a tram . Ir seemed full of people, so he remained standing: on the platform, and watched the stalwart conductor go round punching tickets. He, of course, was a native. A moment more, the fares all taken, the conductor came out and immediately made to address the stranger fronr "Cod/B" Own. Our friend almost smiled m pleasurable anticipation; but the smile was still-born. The mar spoke m broken English, telling him he must "go inzide an 1 zit down or joomj ov," as the police would not allow even one m excess of the registered number to ride on any car. Tho car slowing up, our friend accordingly "joomped ov." ■ The day was very warm and, so, for the double purpose of having a refreshment and getting over his surprise, he entered a "soft drink" shop. It was elegantly painted, scrupulously clean, with polished brass, and shininp crystal and mirrors all round. There was a small giant behind the counter reading a tattered looking paper. Ho looked up as the visitor approached th? t:ounter, and his dark face and black, piercing eyes revealed him as a foreigner. The paper he was reading had a cancelled Italian stamp affixed to it, shoeing the country of Its (possible) origin. Tho "All Black" had an iced ginger, and, m a short conversation the shopman told him that there were thousands of similar shops m Glasgow and that, almost without 1 exception, they belonged to his follow countrymen — Italians! Going out, our friend looked at tho^next shop. It was a boot shop. He raised his eyes and read the sign over the' premises. The name was "Ivan Scobinoflf." Tho next shop to that was, a "ready-mad«" tailors': the names of the proprietors wore "Solomons and Josephs." Sighing wearily, bo turned away, What was ho to do? Was this really Glasgow, Scotland. He turned and walked «lowly up a ejdo street. Ah, hero was a postman going his round. He was tail and lanky. He would speak to him. He did. The postman replied. His accent was not that of a Scot. In fact it had something about it that reminded our wanderer of his Colonial homo. "Are you a native of Glasgow?" he haltingly asked the postman. "Ow, now, I'm fnun Cympie, Queensland," the man replied as lie hurried off. \ Ju»t thew another policeman posset), with measured step ami slow. Making some excuse the visitor from , Down Under spoke to him. When he replied, our friend, having lived a. whllo In London, recognised tho voice a» that of a Cockney. After a few casual remarks about the weather, etc., he asked th© "John Hop," "Are there no Scots policemen m Glasgow?" "Bli'me," Bald tlio Cockney slowly, "Iv course there is ... ono. 'EH jus* be hon '!« bent nahw. 'R'a a good un, utrite. 'Low? that wy. You knows 'im w'en yer seen 'lm. M Tho vJsltr.tr walked "Ions: that wy," and hadn't gono .far before ho aaw a policeman*} head and shoulders sticking- up over the crowd that surged along. Was he walking on stilus? He

came nearer. He passed by. He was walking on his own feet, and they were on the ground, too. This was "the" Scots policeman. This was what porridge could do! With a heart palpitating like*th.at of a lover awaiting the answer from the lips of -his divinity that will decide his. fate— till he meets another^ — Billjim touched the peeler's arm. The man m blue stopped and looked down kindly, much as a father would look down on his baby boy. Then a voice, a Scots voice, asked "Whit wist ye's wahntin'?" His interroguter by touch told him he was a stranger from New Zealand, and that he wanted to be directed to a respectable boarding-house. "There's a. weeddy 'wumman up oor close keeps tWo-three ludgers," said Robert 1237, "an* I daursy. she micht tak one mair." The conversation -thus started went freely on. Our friend was delighted. The doubts and ■ questionings that had been forming m his mind were banished. Here was a man, indeed, of true Scots physique. "What height are you?" he ventured at last. "Whit heicht am I? Onybuddy m j Glesca '11 tell y& that. I'm six feet I nine-an'-a-hauf, an' I wel' nineteen stane!" "You must have supped a lot of pori ridge m your time!" "Parritch? Whit wey? Lo'd, mahn! I hinna tasted parritch sin* I was a bit kittlin' — an' they dinna 'gree wi' me syne." Getting the address of the "weeddy wumman," Billjim hurried off. So this son of Anak did not take porridge after all! But the poet has told us that "Hope springs eternal," etc., and our friend remembered that longago m the way-bock school lie used to write m his copybook: The exception proves the rule. Ah, that was it. This big policeman was the exception . So he determined to hurry along, take lodging with the "weeddy wumman," and sample porridge, as made m a Glasgow kitchen.

He found his way all right by the directions Policeman MaePherson had given, him, and the "weoddy" was able to five him a room. Next morning ho rose In good lime, as he thought, for breakfast. After he had dressed a knock came to his door, and he was asked if he would have his breakfast m his bedroom, or would he "jist come ben into tho kitchen nn' tak' it?" He decided to go "ben." What a revolution! So this was a (JUiKgow kitchen. The place was very bright and clean. The shelves and "dre«sor" I were shining with beautiful delf and [ cut crystal. And tho range and flro» Irons — every bit of them gleaming like polished steel and burnished brass! Taking his seat, ho hesitated to begin. Then the "wumnian" said, "Dinna watt on me. I had a bit bite efler ihe men folk gued uwa' to their wark." "Your other boarders are gone then?" he ventured. "Ay. They start vraTk «t six, ye kon, an' ane o' them, Wullio Broon, the weo ane. gangs to Kilboowie, to Slngers'a, thirteen mile. ... Of eporse, ho tak's the train." | Of course! Our friend smiled as he turned his attention to the vlanda. j Porridge? There was no porridge there. Instead there were lea and toast, and ham iuul eggs. | "This isn't the regular thing," said | the ex-bushwhacker to himself . Tula also was nn and wa« dono out of hospitality to the stranger. To jseo tho porridge, which, without doubt, | wtuj ihe "rule," he* would have 10 ho up before the other boarders "gaed awa'." H© boarded with the "weeddy" till | the following Saturday, during which time he got acquainted with his Scots | tallow ledger*. Onw of them, "Wnllie," wan what the landlady called "a bit thrawn," and always took tho opposite view from tho others on any subject, for "Weo Broon" wtu bred iruo to type, and dearly 3ovad a Utiio argufying.

Billjim learned that these men -went long distances io their work, had to be at. their posts at six m the morning-, and didn't "lowse" till five-thirty p.m. "Wullie" travelled thirteen miles to his job and his wages scarcely averaged the pound per week, the year round. All this, s_nd more, he got to know, but rise as early as he liked, never once did he see porridge on the table. This last 'fact gave him pause. Then he put it down to Scots "pawkiness" — that was the word! They didn't want to show him how meanly they lived, and knowing he was to be with them for a few days only, porridge had been mutually declared ."off." On the Saturday he took train for Cockletoun, a town famed as the place of "the four L's" — leeks, leears, links, and lunatics. It is situate on the Firth ■ of Forth, exactly fifty miles crosscountry from Glasgow. Hs put up with a Mr. Turpy, a brother of a neighbor of his parents' m New Zealand. Mr. Turpy was delighted to see htm. and to hear news of his brother. The "crack" went on until the "wee short 'oor ayont the twal' " was sounded by the wag-at-the-wa 1 , when the host, rising, said, "We're sittin' late, but the morn's Sunday, an' wo can ha'e a lang lie an' Ja. Glesca brekftst." Bllljlm Bushwhacker went to bed pondering over the words, "a- Glesca brekfist." And so he fell asleep and dreamed a dream. He saw an enormous bowl of porridge, round which tho whole family, eleven m number, sat, each with a separate spoon, hay« ing before them also a cup of milk, into which they dipped their spoons en route with their burdens from the enormous? bowl to their mouths. It was bosker! The real dirikum Scots porridge at last! i Then he woke up. The family wero already astir. Someone knocked on the partition wall and shouted, "Are* ye waukin', mahn." He arose, dressed himself and proceeded to the kitchen. The breakfast table was already set. On it were steaming cups of tea, mountains of warm, well-buttered toast and .... ham and esrss! This, then, was "a Glesoa brekfist." • • ». Next night, thoroughly disillusioned,, the Scoto- Maorilander caught the eleven o'clock express for London. He had been a. full week m the "land of his fathers," had lived m Scots houses, but neither had tasted nor seen porridge, with the exception of the first morning m the Station Hotel. The universal use of porridge m Scotland was a myth! Scots physique, a tradition! With the exception of the big non-porridge eating 1 policeman, and ftls surly neighbor at tho hotel breakfast table, all the "stalwarts" he had spoken to were foreigners. Many of the men, and not a few of the women, he had seen In Glasgow had bowod or bandy legs, and the rest were "Jlst ordlnar'." Ami the Scots soil? It was bleak and sour, and the hills grew lit-"* tie else but heather. Doubtless it couldn't feed a sheet to the five acres, nor a cow to the ten. His had been a disillusionment indeed. In this frame of. mind he took his seat m a Pullman for London. A newshoy passed tho carriage, crying hia wares. He bought some papers. One was the Edinburgh "Evening News." Opening 1c almost the first thing to catch his eye was the following "par.": Dr. Russell, tho Medical Officer of Health for tho City or Glasgow, states that thlrty-flvo per cent, of tho children born m that city die under five years of age. Then he bethought himself of tho "Glesca brekflst." Pace, Sir James Critchton Browne and other porridge advocates. A little further down he dropped upon the following: FERTILE SCOTLAND. Scotland is spoken of as a land of sour cllmato and poor thin soil.\ In spite of this widely held belief,' it is very different. The following figures from the Board of Agriculture statistics provo that Scotland holds the best place as regards every crop but one, and that, curioualy enough, is oam. Taking wheat, tho average production per acre m EngjUtnd is 31. 1S bushels; m Wales, 25.52; In Ireland, 33.25; m Scotland It is 35.68! Of bean*, the former yield 33.83; the latter 38.34! Of turnips, England gives 11.98 to Scotland's 15.24 tons per acre. Of hay, England, which is the highest of the other three, gives 28.85 to Scotland's 32,21. cwt. In oats, as already stated, Scotland takes a back aoat. England jftvea 40. 50 bushels to Scotland's 3K5-I. After all, there wms some balm In Oiltt.vl. S<:ota soil? M:iy>f, Hut Scow porridge? Scots physique? Jchabotl! lehabod! The glory has departed! Whit wey?