PASSING NOTES.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 19270, 6 September 1924, Page 6

PASSING NOTES.

Giving a civic reception to the National Council of Women, his Worship the Mayor of Dunedin had never been more worshipful. A mere man, sole and solitary, he seemed unaware of the fact. Much to his credit! Of course the Mayor of this city may be giving a civic reception every other week—now to a visiting lecturer, now to a Chinese football team—and he gets to be an adept at the job. But to parallel the occasion I am noting we must picture a lady—solo and solitary representative of her sex—presiding with sleek composure over a National Council of Men. And that reminds me, we do actually possess a National Council of Men, the members of which attain their place there in at the cost of travail and pain, and for their conduct therein may be held to strict account. But the National Council of Women comes into being we know not how—apparently elects itself; and, though like the Laird of Cockpen its head is ta’en up wi’ affairs of the State, enjoys a happy irresponsibility. About affairs of the State and all other terrene affairs women may say their say; why not? To their husbands and their other men-folk '.hey always have said their say, and with good effect. But now always in New Zealand and elsewhere .they congregate for the purpose under the grandiose title of the National Council of Women. I learn with interest that in Wellington the National Council of Women has been able in some way to interview the National Council of Men. A member from that city said; At the recent deputation to the House they had a much better reception than on previous occasions. At least they had not been told that “woman’s place was the home.” The House did not tell them that? Then, the Houso owes to itself an apology. In or out of the House, there is not a husband and father anywhere who does not hold that women’s place is the home. It cannot be denied that in the general scheme of things the vocation of woman is marriage. If Nature meant women to compete with men in the tasks of life outside the home, Nature would have given them stronger arms and legs, and in some other way than the present way would have arranged for the continuance of the species. In his belief that the sphere of women is the home, the husband and father of to-day is backed by St. Faul, if it is worth while quoting so antiquated an authority. But as a mere matter of curiosity his attitude is interesting;- ! will therefore that the vounger women marry, bear children, guide the house, ’ and what he willed about the aged women was that they should teaclv the young women to be “keepers at home.” But perhaps on this subiect and on others—-wine-drinking for one, as we were recently told from a high place—the notions of Paul are “out of date.” Mr W. H. Massingham, a London journalist whose death is reported, was for years editor of the Nation, a Radical weekly newspaper of politics so questionably radical that more than once during the Great War the censor pounced upon it, imposing the curious restriction that no copy of Mr Massingham’s mischievous paper should go out of the country. English readers were more or less immune, hut our hard-pressed allies and the dnbitating Americans must bo protected. Outside of politics, Mr Massingham oould write pleasantly on natural history subjects such as the bird life of the English countryside; and he has a delightful essay entitled, “One’s Dog” : My own little mongrel rufous spaniel, my confidant in sickness and health. He lives for one rapturous, overmastering idea the divinity of me—and though he cannot always understand the language of his god, yet .its god’s voice is the music of heaven. You will be surprised to hear it, but my dog prays to mo. Not for cucumber, kettle-holders, stones, biscuits, shoes, gooseberries, a walk, a lap a game or to have the door opened for no personal desires or needs, but simply in thanksgiving for my beauty and greatness and splendour and nobility. He sits on his hind logs and just begs mo to go on living and illuminating the world with my glory. What I eat is ambrosia to him ; when I take my stick it blossoms like the Scriptural rod; and when I go about my great affairs and leave him behind, the world grows heathen and dark to him. When a journey is in preparation and travelling bags are brought forth, ho reads the signs infallibly. Stop by stop the bags are filled, while he sits with his body pressed against the gaping one, until they are removed into the hall, whereupon, sacrificing all his regular comforts and companionship, there he remains in the dark. He is usually the first to bed, but now he has to be plucked up and carried there, amid growls, whines, struggles, and violent expostulations. When the bustle informs him next morning that the supreme moment approaches, ho leaves the bags for the door, and when I force it open against his scrabbling, with a gasping yell he precipitates himself into the cab. On the journey he effaces himself, because his nervous exhaustion is such, that ho sleeps the day through. Love me, love my dog, is the spirit of this essay; and the phrase may be turned about—Love my dog, love me. Tor in sketching his canine worshipper the artist has also sketched himself, and we like them both. Apart from politics Mr Mas singham was doubtless a very likeable man. And he would share the sentiment of Pope’s “Lo the poor Indian”—as indeeo I do myself: Lo the poor Indian, whose untutored mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind; And thinks admitted to that equal sky His faithful dog shall bear him company.

From Manaia;—• Dear Civis.—With reference to yonr reply last week to a correspondent askthe meaning of “honours three” in the couplet— We’ll drink a cup to Scotland yot Wi’ a’ the honours three! the “Honours of Scotland” consist of the Grown, the Sceptre, and the Sword of State, and these any Scot worthy of the name would give his life to protect. Unlike the Stone of Destiny, the Honours have never been taken from the kingdom. The ingenium perfervidum Scotorum of a minister’s wife' was too foresighted for proud Edward’s power, and they were hid in the church pulpit till the danger was over, and they are now safe and sound in Edinburgh Castle. Scotland was never conquered by the Romans or English invaders. The Romans never carried their eagles beyond the Grampians, and amongst the English the Scot now holds the highest offices in Church and State; and “Unless the fates are faithless found, or prophet’s voice, be vain, wherever the Stone of Destiny is found the Scottish race shall reign.” Therefore at times of festivity and rejoicing a Scot abroad, whose heart burns with emotion at the toast of “Bonnie Scotland,” drinks it with enthusiasm as the Honours of Scotland are safe, and ho sings this doughty glee. “Auld Scotland’s right and Scotland's might, and Scotland's hills for mo; we’ll drink a cun to Scotland yet, wi’ a’ the Honours three.” This, Mr Civis,' is the true meaning of the phrase in “Scotland Yet,” by H. S. Riddel. Far bo it from me lo differ; I wadna preshoom. Yet when a toast is honoured by cheering the cheers go in triplets: Three cheers for Scotland yet!—and three times three!

As for the Stone of Destiny—feloniously carried off by Edward I, Burns's “proud Edward,” from the abbey of Scone in Perthshire and made the seat of tho coronation chair at Westminster—what matters whether the Stone of Destiny be north of Tweed or south? The kingdoms of Scotland and England are no longer two hut one. Moreover, the sovereigns crowned at Westminster are Stuarts, all of them, from the Jameses and the Charleses down. Few people know, 01 knowing trouble to remember, that our Prince of Wales, the Prince Charming of both hemispheres, is a descendant of Mary Queen of Scots. Our George I was corn in Hanover and could sneak no English;

tlvo Pretender, James Francis Edward Stuart, in support of whose claim to the tin-one the Scots made unlucky rebellion in 1715, was bom in St. James’s Palace, London. In respect of title the difference between them was simply this —the Pre tender was the son of James 11, George a grandson. James II was the son of Charles I, who was the son of James I ot England and VI of Scotland; James I and VI was the son of Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots. Through successive generations the silver thread of Stuartry—if it is a silver thread—has never been broken, nor has the Stone of Destiny failed to justify its name. So, once again— Wo’ll drink a cup to Scotland yet Wi’ a’ the honours three! and with three times three! From a “Son of the Soil’’— Imports y. Dominion Production. Dear “Civis,” —Apparently the Boot and Shoe Importers and Retailers are not the only ones holding the view that the primary producers and the thousands engaged in the secondary industries, merely cumber the earth, and therefore ought to receive “a happy despatch.” If Dame Rumour may he believed, those interested in the importation of Biscuits are now about to petition Parliament to pass an Act making the growing and milling of wheat a penal offence, while as an alternative the mere selling of biscuits made from wheat grown within the dominion would be constituted a crime punishable by imprisonment for life. It goes without saying that those who now amuse themselves by wheat growing or cattle raising and in other primary pursuits, or those who occupy themselves in the making of garments and boots would have no difficulty in finding other opportunities of whiling away the time; possibly they could all be turned into grocers’ assistants or clothing and boot salesmen, provided of course that they found favour in the eyes of the autocratic importers. How- do the “autocratic importers” pay for their imports? Where do they get the money from? blot from the exchange of imports for imports, boots and shoes for drapery, pianos for motor cars, tobacco for Scotch whisky. That would oe to earn a living by taking in each other s washing. Money for imports and everything else comes from the primary 'ndustries and the secondary industries. Of the primary industries farming is the type. The farmer sends to town a sack of wheat —new wealth that he has produced from the bare soil. Then come in the secondary industries, —the miller, who adds new wealth by grinding the wheat into flour, and the baker who again adds new wealth by making the flour into bread. After this fashion and this fashion only is produced whatever wealth we have to bless ourselves with. As in the last analysis we are, I suppose, a sane people, we snail zealously and jealously look after -/he primary and secondary industries, leaving any autocracy there may be in imports and importers to look after itself. Dr Jack, of the Otago University, lecturing to the Workers’ Educational Association : Matter was composed of ninety-two different kinds of bricks or atoms. The amount of air in a space the size of a pinhead contained 20,000,000 times as many atoms as there were people in the world.

Do I believe it? Certainly I believe it; that is I receive it on faith'. It 3 not the theologian that nowadays makes the largest demands upon faith; it is the science man. In the space of a pinhead there are twenty million times as nany atoms as there are people in the world. Quite so ; certum est quia impossible est, as an ancient Christian Father is reputed to have said ; meaning thereby that’ he believed the thing because it was impossible. One of the delightful paradoxes of faith. The same ancient Father or some of his mediaeval successors would rave told yon how many thousands or millions of angels could dance on the point of a needle. But that is nothing to the atoms in the space of a pinhead—twenty million times the population of the globe, and every one of them a planetary system with' a central sun and electrons spinning round it. How does the science man get to know all this? The knowledge is more wonderful than the thing itself. To Dr Jack as a teacher of science Dunedin owes much. Is he not the father of our wireless broadcasting and listening-in? He knows a lot and we owe him a lot. We should owe him a lot more if. he could teil us not only what he knows but how he knows it. From Rotorua Dear “CSvis,”—'Would you. bo good enough to advise me on the following . point: —An invitation to a ball is to be sent to Mr and Mrs Jones. To whom should the envelope enclosing the invitation be addressed Trusting your health is good. Thanks; with the Ruler of the Queen’s Navee in “Pinafore” I am in reasonable health. Had the National Council of Women not gone out of session I mignt have remitted to that authority the weighty question which now it seems i must attempt unaided. In courtesy, perhaps by intrinsic right, the wife takes precedence of the husband. Entering or • leaving a room, the ball room for instance, Mrs Jones leads, Jones the mau follows in her train. But courtesy and custom are not always in accord. If the Joneses are announced by name, custom puts the Mr before the Mrs—‘‘Mr and Mrs Jones.” More than this, the Post Office directory and the telephone list ignore the lady altogether. Jones, you will find, with his address; Mrs Jones at the same address you will not find. It follows that the envelope containing your invitation card should be directed to “ Jones Esq.,” who may be regarded as simply an extension of the postal agencies for conveying the missive to- its proper destination. Roma locuta est; causa finita est. Civxs.