PASSING NOTES

Otago Daily Times, Issue 22066, 23 September 1933, Page 6

PASSING NOTES

Wrote Sydney Smith to his friend Sir George Phillips a hundred years ago, “ The weather is beautiful; but, as Noodle says, with his eyes beaming with delight, ‘We shall suffer for this, sir, by-and-by.’ ” Direct descendants of this old-time noodle are still with us, and are making the same comments on our present beautifully weathered September. They have less foundation for their idle weather forecast than the ancient original Noodle who pored and pawed over animals’ intestines. Ho at least judged according to his “ lights.” In the chronology of the seasons there should be a close correspondence—at least astronomical and theoretical —between a Dunedin September and a March of the northern hemisphere. And the succeeding months of October and November should maintain in their turn an analogy with April and May. But do they? Rarely docs this astronomical parallelism extend from thcoi-y to practice. Between north and south comes the equator, of which the same Sydney Smith heard Jeffreys speak disparagingly. And the rough and ready generalisations of. English poets on the weather of English months give little assistance to our own forecasting. Mensibns mutatis mutandis. The English March is notorious, according to the poets, for its wind and its drought. The weather eye of old Dan Chaucer made him write When that Aprllle with his shoures swoote The drought of March hath perccd to the rootc. Bacon, who was no poet, but an inductive generalise!’, wrote “ A dry March and a dry May portend a wholesome summer, if there be a showery April between.” So far our September has been not unlike a March. But here the similarity ends. Did September, as March is said to do. “ Come in like a lion and go out like a lamb”? Did she, in the words of William Watson, resemble , March that comes In roaring, maned, with rampant paws, And bleatlngly withdraws? No. She has been almost a windless month except for one tempestuous night. September can never be March, though our noodles might well be called September hares or October fools. Man's interest in the weather prospects began ages before he acquired the habit of tapping his barometer. With pathetic persistence he has for thousands of years turned over the book of Nature, hoping that in sonic of its pages it might have furnished the key to w’hat was obscure in others. ■ Every innocent and meaningless turn and twist in the animal creation has been taken as Nature’s confidential whisper—as Nature’s weather gauge. Rain has been foreshadowed by the flying of bats, by the appearance of toads at sunset, by the sprawling of snails, by the rising of fish in the lake, by the busy humming of bees, by the restlessness of cattle, by the clamour of landrails, by the croaking of crows, by the squawking of ducks, by the earscratching of cows and the web-weaving of spiders. A recent meteorologist, gifted \vith immense enthusiasm, abundant leisure and an infinitude of patience, has made 361 observations of these humble weather signs of Nature. Of them 213 were followed not by the expected wet weather but by the unexpected dry. As well might one depend on a weather almanac, which may have risen to popularity on the strength of the most accidental of lucky guesses.

It is related of the famous “Partridge’s Almanack” that it owed its reputation to a ciliious prophecy of extraordinary weather for July 31, 1835. Forgetting that the month of July had 31 days, the almanacmaker had omitted to insert the weather prediction for the last day. A boy was sent in haste from the printing office to know how the space was to be filled. The weather prophet was too busy to attend to the messenger, but. at last, in a fury of irritation at the boy’s persistence, he said, “ D you, put down anything you like—hail, rain, sleet, snow, thunder and lightning.” The boy, taking it literally, told the compositor, who duly Set into type the extraordinary prediction. By a wonderful coincidence the prediction came true. The only safe weather prediction is that the weather is bound to change. A North of England legend relates how a Scot from Paisley and a Yorkshireman from Pugsey missed a passage in Noah’s Ark. The Scotsman’s reason wag the passage money. The Yorkshireman said to Noah, “ Laddie, this tain won’t last for ever.” Both missed the bus—Noah’s bus. How their tragic story came to be known the legend does not say. As many a matt has found before this, a decision may be right but the reasons wrong. The young civil servant in an Indian Jungle village, ruler over half a million people, gives his judgments with more gravity than an Appeal Court, and wins his prestige by abstaining from reasons. The New Zealand Geographical Board has decided to eliminate the possessive “s” from all place names. A commendable decision; but the board gave its reasons, and the reasons are shaky. It says "Arthur’s Pass should be changed to Arthur Pass, for the pass did not belong to Arthur,” and “The ‘ Devil’s Elbow ’ or * Devil’s Punch Bowl ’ are instances where the possessive ‘ s ’ still remained, as such names were descriptive.” But who imagines that the midland pass ever belonged to the landed possessions of Arthurf And “descriptive” is a vague and inaccurate term for the possessive case of Devil. Far more reasonable is it to suppose that the elbow and punchbowl in question were figuratively assumed by the first namera to be part of the Devii’s anatomy and one of his drinking utensils. The possessive case has many more meanings than one. And throughout Europe, geographical compounds with the possessive or genitive arc as numerous as leaves on the trees. The Geographical Board in its desire for uniformity would, if consistent, change Queenstown to Queentown and Kingston to Kington. The dignity of personal names would suffer if reduced to a simple adjective. With common nouns there is no difficulty. They may readily become adjectives. Which reminds me of the Dunedin signboard containing the words “ Monumental Mason,” meaning “ Monument Mason.” One might as well speak of a “ wooden carver,” “ a porky butcher,” a “ blankety maker,” a “ stoney mason,” or a “ watery cart.” Of course " monumental mason ” may be quite right: I have not seen the man.

A correspondent in last week’s Notes raised the question of the euphony-value of the English language, objecting to the placing of English ns low as fourth in the language hierarchy of euphony. Ho wrote:

Neither the nasal tones of the Frenchman nor the guttural accents of the Teuton are nearly as euphonious as the hcayitiful melodious voice timbre of the cultured class in the

South of England. With my correspondent’s admiration for Southern English I am at one. Yet internationally it has defects. Its merits are well known. Its grammar has a simplicity akin to that of Esperanto. Its vocabulary has an unexampled richness. But to foreigners its pronunciation is at times a nightmare. Many a Frenchman grows grey hairs as he tries to cope with its syllable accents. Its chief defect is its slurred vowels —easy enough of comprehension to the English ear, but to a foreigner annoyingly difficult. Every one of the five vowels may at will he reduced to the obscurity of the neutral final vowel of “tailor.” Every long vowel except “a” in “father” is broken and diphthongal. That is, every long vowel has its “off-glide,” which is the main

distinguishing mark of English vowels as compared with those of Irish and Scots. A vowel system consisting largely of diphthongs, which in foreign languages are almost non-existent, detracts from resonance in singing, renders comprehension difficult, and opens the door to the multiplicity of accents for which English is notorious. English articulation, again, is internationally known as “ lax,” with an unenergetic action of lips and tongue. And it is the only “ lax ” articulation known in Europe. An Englishman about to learn French or German finds his task greatly simplified if he first learns to speak Scots. The end would quite justify the means. Whether the jury system is still on its trial I know not. An old story requoted in an Australian paper seems to imply that as an institution of infallible justice it easily might be excelled. Some years ago in a Melbourne Court of General Sessions, three women were charged with stealing stockings from a Collins street shop. One was found with the goods in her suit case, and confessed she had stolen them. The jury returned a verdict of not guilty against, all three. Said tlie judge to the jury: “If you think you have acted honestly in finding the girl not guilty, I will not permit you to serve on another jury here. Seventeen pairs of stockings are found in the accused’s suit case. She says she stole them. And the jury says she is a liar.’’ To all appearances the jury, absent for an hour, tossed up. There is said to have been a case in which a jury eased the tedium of their retirement with a game of poker. After the lapse of a reasonable length of time the foreman turned up a card at random. It was the knave. The jury filed in with a verdict of guilty. The case reminds me of the mediieval conundrum. Witness confesses ■ he is a liar. Siuce he is a liar, he is lying when he says he lies. Therefore he is not a liar. But if he is not a liar, then it is true that he is lying, and he must be a liar still. Yet, if he be a liar, and if he lied when he says ■ he is a liar, then- yOu must believe the word of a liar when he says he lied when he lied. To this farrago column have come two queries—both religious. Writes one correspondent: Dear “ Civis,” —I'm sorry if I take up your valuable time; but could you tell me what argument those Russians or atheists or scientists put up who say there is no Supreme Being? Do they say that the planets and. stars made themselves or came into existence by a fluke?—l am, etc., 'Mazed.

From Queenstown: Dear " Civis,” —Would you be kind enough to inform me of the meaning of the word kalathumpian or—ae sometimes spelt—calathumpian? In the early mining days in Otago the word was often used by the diggers. In the religious column of the last census, or the one before, three persons described themselves as Kalathumpians.—l am, ete., Wiremu. Let one query be the reply to the other; My first correspondent’s daring synonymy between Russians and atheists and scientists furiously begs the question. An atheistical scientist is now out of date. As also is a scientific atheist. About a scientific atheistical Russian I know less than nothing. Information on the religious sect of the "Calathurapiahs ” has not been forthcoming. If there be a Calathumpian High Priest among Us, now is the time for some useful missionary propaganda. Cma.