PASSING NOTES.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 17092, 25 August 1917, Page 4

PASSING NOTES.

The " hard war" of Sir John French's j 1 phrase in if.! early stuge.-j lias not. become j leas hard. In those days it. was a hard wiiv beci!t;?D we were outnumbered nnd out.-gmmo:!. W'e luivu corrected that; but the win- of 10-d;,v is a hard war because we are in> against an enemy with Ins back t" the \v;i!.--;i cornered rat, if von will—lighting in desperation. The war correspondents, at tho end of their adjectives, tell u« that Ihe fighting round Lens is "ferocious.'" It. was "violent," it was ''fierce," it was "terrific'': but those terms are exhausted. • Ferocity is now its nolo. "Whatever of best the Germans have they are i;ending into this Lens , battle.—their- ]'rus::ihn Guards, nnd the like. And wo belter i.heiT be:~.l with the Canadians. At Bullecourt it was Australia's day tint, at Mes.'iries New /Zealand's ; at Lens it is Canada's. Always the same miracle—citizen soldiers, colonials. who didn't know a gun from a hat (some of them), had never aimer! or cockctl a- rifle, come from the plough and the shearing shed, the foundry, tile factory, tho class 3 0 0132. the ledger, and knock out the Kaiser's prize warriors. The Kitchener armies, raised in the Old Land, do tho same. As early as September, 1914, Sir John French told of the " personal ascendancy" of his men over the men of the other side. Whenever the. argument be- • tween Briton and. German became " personal," the Briton proved the better man. That personal ascendancy of the " Old Contemptibles" has been passed on. And there are none who know it more surely than the hapless "cannon-fodder" of the Kaiser's Hindenbui'g line. The Mayor of Christcliurch, Mr Holland, has been listening to speakers in Parliament and taking their measure. " Piffle" is what they talked, he wiid —ad dressi n g on his return his own Parliament, the Christchurch City Council. "Of all the people he had ever listened to the speakers he had heard in Wellington ' took the cake' for ' piffle.' " One or two members lay asleep in front of the member speaking, who'kept nil anxious eye on the clock, filling up his time ever and anon by remarking that ho had another few minutes to go or that his time' was nearly up, or turning' over voluminous notes to quoto how much the country had saved by collecting the cartridges in camp. He came away reflecting, with " utmost disgust," that Parliament was said -to cost the country £30 an hour, and marvelling " how members could think up such twaddle at the price." " Piffle," "twaddle," and "disgust"—by my troth, captain, these are very bitter words, —to borrow Hostess Quickly. But lion, members cannot bo deprived of the consolation that comes with a Treasury cheque, paid punctual. And it has been suggested that the amount of that cheque ishould bo increased. In the course of a parliamentary wrangle (purely formal) over war bonuses given improperly to civil servants a happy thought came to the Hon. G. 1 W. Russell. " What was the position of members of that House?" he asked. "No suggestion had been made than lion, members should receive a war bonus. The time had come when the people of . New Zealand should recognise their responsibilities towards members cf Parliament and increase the emoluments attached to the office." The effect was magical. No moro wrangle. There supervened a great calm.

From an ill-conditioned Prohibitionist who doesn't know what's the matter with him: —

Dear Civis, —Seeing that brewing and whisky-making are so prosperous during tho war, you must be thankful to a kind Providenco that the trade you support so well with pen, etc., has escaped the general loss. You can well offer tho prayer: "Praise God from Whom all blessings flow, praise. Massey, Allen, Ward, and Co." You try to make people believe you are' for Prohibition during the war: we know better from your notes. Think of _ the moderate drinkers stopping their tipplings. nightcaps, wee drappies in the 'ee. What a picture for a dream! You take your place with Sinn Fein, Homo Rule drinkers of Ireland, and the Holy R.C. in this country. Pat, pewter pot, and ipoverty, and pub. go together, don't yer know? A Prohibitionist evidently. Judged by the tone of his graceless ending he is an Orangeman to boot. lam not for quarrelling -with him on either count; —the one and only quarrel for an honest British man to-day is our common quarrel with the Kaiser and ,his Powers of Hell. I will merely suggest that Prohibitionists who cannot get all they want should be thankful for as much as they can and do get, namely, the help of many thousand antiProhibitioriists m demanding Six o'Clock Closing and more taxing of beer and spirits. My own confession of faith on Early Closing let me repeat: —

I was never a Prohibitionist; I have/ fought Prohibition with tooth and claw; no one had ever a merrier time with the Prohibitionist " pur sang" than I. But there is a war on; the question by which live or die is—efficiency. And war efficiency turns in part on the six o'clock closing of hotel bars. My conviction is that the majority of the people of New Zealand are registering their fell purpose when the time and the chance shall come to vote down and vote out every man that opposes it.—(PassingNotes, July 28.) I stand to that. So far" as my own vote counts I will make it good.

From Feilding: — Dear " Civis,"—Your concluding- remark after quoting from Bodkin's "Recollections of an Irish Judge" seems to hint a doubt as to the truth of the author's testimony to the happiness and purity of the homes of Ireland, compared with any others on earth. Let mo refer you to the article•: "Illegitimacy" in Chambers's Encyclopedia (1901 edition), which, so_ far as relates to purity, gives convincing support to Judge Bodkin's eulogy. The article mentions the prevalence of illegitimacy in Scotland, and goes on to state that "In Ireland we find a very different state of affairs." From the vary striking tables in the article it is mad© abundantly clear that nowhere else in the world are the proprieties so respected as in Ireland. The New land Year Book for 1914, at p. 151, also shows that the commendation of Irish purity quoted in your paragraph was not made without the most complete justification.—Co. Wicklow. ' Jttdge Bodkin's words were these:— " Happy and pure are the homes of Ireland, happier and purer than any others on earth." And my comment was this: " It is a great thing to say; but it is an Irishman that ; says it." I don't think any doubt is hinted. Bather the suggestion is that on a matter so intimately Irish an Irishman is the best witness. Anyhow, I willingly print my correspondent's letter. Whatever kind thing can be said of the Irish just let it be said. One's impulse is to say only severe things. The impatience of the Irish for Home Rule is sheer enssedness. Suffering no wrong, oppressed by no tyranny, they select as a fit and proper time for talking\ rebellion the moment of the /Empire's direst stress. Sinn Fein is writing the meaaest, shabbiest, most odions page in Irish history. But for Sinn Fein we might still believe | in the Ireland of the poets; e.g.: — Rich and rare were the gems die wore, And a bright gold ring on her hand she bore: Bat oh! her beauty was far beyond Her sparkling grans or snoyr-wlntohand. On what errand a lady of these charms and thus bedight was wandering alono around the Green Isle, iter only protection her maiden smile, we aare left to guess. Unless a book-agent or a suffragist agitator, she is as hard to explain as Longfellow's yoTmg man who cTimbed the Alps in the dark Bearing aloft mid snow and ice the banner with the strange device " Excelsior." Bnt her confidence is touching:— Sir knight, I feel not tho least alarm; No son of Erin will offer ma.harm; For though they love wonaaai and golden store, - - Sir 1 might, they love honour and. virtue more. She would have fared roughly, I imagine, among the sons of Erin m their bloody doings at Dublin, last Easter twelvemonth. " Rich and rare" is by Tom Moore; " axm " (Priest dear)

is by the less known John IBanim. Spite , of hard times in tho paper market 1 cannot deny myself the pleasure of qnoti.ng# a stanza or two from. " Soggarth aroon." \ Who. in the winter's night,—Soggarth I aroon, When the cold frost did bite, —Soggarth aroon, Came to my cabin-door, and on the earthen ilure, Knelt, by me, sick and poor. —Soggarth aroon ? Who, on the. marriage-day,—Soggarth aroon, Made the poor cabin gay,—Soggarth aroon; .And did both laugh and sing, making our hearts to ring, At the poor christening,—Soggarth aroon Who, as friend only met,—Soggarth aroon, Never did float mc yet,—Soggarth aroon? And when mv hearth was dim, gave, while his eye did brim, What I dioiild give to him, —Soggarth aroon? To-day, if wo may believe the cables, Soggarth aroon is otherwise occupied. He is helping to plot a Sinn Fein rebellion.. Dear " Civis."—Would you kindly oxplain tho inclining of "sabotage"? Many dictionaries have bden examined, hut the word ;tai not to bo found. Though creeping in, .the word " sabotage " is hardly yet English ; —the Oxford knows it not. Nor, in the meaning it carries with us, has it long been French. "Sabotage" in Littre is the art and craft of making sabots, merely that; —sabot being the French wooden shoe. Since a wooden shoe is good i'or kicking purposes I suppose that " sabotage " in the I.W.W. sense was the malicious destroying of things as though by kicking them to pieces or stamping them into the mud. ! But no. The " Petit Larousse," 1914— quite the best example of a concise dictionary within my knowledge—gives three meanings: 1, the making of sabots; 2, the fixing of railway metals in the iron "cushions" resting on the sleeper; 3,' the fixing of things wroxc for the purpose of iDringing about their destruction. As this is probably the only dictionary definition of sabotage in .'existence I had better quote it literatim, spite of the ugliness of French when printed—as the linotype prints it.—without accents. My correspondent may dig out the meaning for himself. Arte malhonnote do l'ouvrier qni, voluntaircmcnt, introduit dans. Irs prorluifcs dn travail, soit des erreurs, soit des malfacons. oti doteriorc le materiel qni lui est confio. Sabotage in this sense began, I believe, on the French railways; accidints were wilfully caused. Where it will end—short of the Bottomless Pit—the Americans are showinc. In some of the Western States the I.W.W 7 . ■preachers of this Black Art are being rounded up by citizen committee*. run out. of town, and cast as • rubbish to the void across the frontier.

From Hawke's Bay: — Dear Civis,—Your notes this week, touch on a war time uniform for women. Could not the Women's National Reserve take up this matter and devise a . uniform for its members? There would be much more money to spare for many patriotic, objects if a uniform wore ( adopted for the period of the war. I wear one myself now of my own>devising—a speckly brown man's " sweater," a short skirt, gum-boots, and (when it rains) a waterproof hat— and orchard work (which I do) can go forward in this costume, however wet underfoot it is. My " sweater' I call j my latest French biotise, for it went to France, and had to be returned; and every morning I don with it its real owner's _ favourite green tie—he loved green ties, and we used to tell him ho must be an Irishman. An attractive picture, from the gum boots up;—and the gTeen tie helps. No harm in a touch of colour. Decorative art of the inexpensive kinds will neither spoil the Liberty Loan nor hinder our winning the war. But we have to think of women who are not orchardists and for : "whom gum boots have no appeal, nor Sir John Suckling's dainty lines: — Her feet beneath her petticoat i Like little mice stole in and out, As if they feared the light. We must compromise on short skirts and three-inch heels. Above that a walkinghabit, tight and trim, of hodden grey, which may be taken as the feminine of khaki. Remember that the best-built man looks better built when put into khaki. Sunshade or umbrella, —no. Read the following paragraph about Sir William Robertson, Chief of the Imperial Staff, the man who stands in Lord Kitchener's shoes. The other day the doorkeeper of a Government office made an egregious blunder. It was raining when the Chief of Staff slipped out of his car, and the man rushed forward with an umbrella, which ho held over Sir William's head. For a moment he looked at it in amazement, then stepped back into the rain. "Don't do that again!" 4i© growled. " A soldier does not need an umbrella." In -war time neither does a soldier's wife, still less a soldier's sweetheart. But all this is wasted breath. In matters of dress women will continue to go their own way. Their own way is the way they have always gone, from the days of Mother Eve and her fig-leaf. . Cms.