AGONY EPITOMISED

Otago Witness, Issue 2921, 9 March 1910, Page 87

AGONY EPITOMISED

By R. W. Robson. " Dearest,—Thanks. I love you, my own darling, my lovely sweetheart. Quite true that I am thine only, to the end. All my love, thoughts, kisses, to my Queen. Aye." No doubt the respectable newspaper reader who encounters this enthusiastic paragraph will be at a' loss, for the moment, to know what it is all' about. It is not from the pages of a "penny horrible," nor was it, so far as I am aware, ever written by a butcher-boy to his gratified sweetheart, as might be supposed. It is an extract from the " agony column " of the Daily Mail (London), and it represents a phase of newspaperdom that we under the Southern Cross know comparatively little about. Of course, we have our personal column, and are pleased, sometimes, to chuckle contentedly over the little advertisement wherein " a'n elderly farmer with means " tells the world that he is prepared to devote his attention to a matter other than the accumulation of wealth or which frankly states that " Lady (32) would like to meet Christian gentleman" who "must be respectable." But in London they do things differently. The "agony column" is a recognised institution, and there is no part of a daily newspaper more widely read. It is, to some, a source of much entertainment, for in it, from day to day, there is conducted a correspondence between (people who have, apparently, been so sorely smitten by Cupid that they are not afraid of making their unhappiness and their hopes the subject of a public advertisement. Other advertisements suggest a faithless spouse and a .mined home, or a -inful son and a broken-hearted mother, or some other domestic tragedy of the kind. But the majority purport to deal with the subject of and the advertisers, as a rule, rush mto print with an abandon and recklessness which, if amusing, are also apt to be a little nauseating.

But it is not wise to take these advertisements at their face value. They may be a genuine indication of the feelings of some love-lorn swain or damsel, but it is just as likely that any one of them is a message from Bill Sykes to the members of his gang. It is now well known that London criminals who operate on a large scale have, with characteristic resourcefulness, commenced to use the agony column to a surprising extent in communicating with one another. They, of course, have their own codes, and in order that suspicion may be averted, the latter are made as suggestive of " agony " as possible. It is difficult—impossible almost —to discriminate between the false and the true. A two-line advertisement which, to our romantic fancy, may represent the fluttering of a wounded heart, is just as likely to be information of a delicate and confidential nature intended for the eyes of a number of swell cracksmen.

Still, we may gain some entertainment by glancing at a few of the advertisements which appeared in the big London daily during one month—April of 'ast year. An examination of the files (while leaving the Bill Sykes hypothesis out of account) shows that we have before us a number of serial novels in tabloid form. As a rule, what appears to be the gentleman inserts his advertisement (at 3s for the first eight words, and 4d for every additional word), and is, in most cases, answered a day or two later by the lady of the piece, and it is not apparent that the money-grasping newspaper people make even her any concession ! The lady coyly, asks a question, and again the eager swain rushes into print (at so much per word). Thus on. April 1, we discover this: " Cath. —Billiums. Still love you; kept all confidences." Cath, evidently, knew her man, for two days later we read-• " Billiums.—Are you N. ? Say where used meet.—Cath. : '' But this, in the same issue, complicates things somewhat : " Cath," seemingly, was rather more popular than she thought. " Horace.—Was advt. of the Ist intended for me ? Would so like to meet again, Cath." So far as may be seen, this meek query received no reply. Three more days pass, and then the following occurs : " Billiums. — Home alone; safely write. Ever your Cath." One feels that there is a story here, and is inclined to wonder what Billiums did. But " Cath," we suspect, was a lady with a subtle and resourceful mind, and we think that perhaps we had better not speculate. There is a flavour of psychology about this one : " Dear Mari (Affinity).—Wait me a note. Longing thy voice. Ever." There is also a suggestion of flippancy about it, but it served its purpose well. Two days later we read this : " Dear Man (Affinity).—Longing thy voice, also." Anxiously, we look for more, but the paper, for that month at any rate, left the affinities to their own devices.

The following attracts our attention and sets our imaginations to work : " Kitten. —Absolutely dumbfounded and collapsed. Cannot work. Will ruin good name of dear children. Do come back at once or wire address. Nobody knows. I shall always love you.—Rabbit." In a moment, our industrious minds picture the discontented " Kitten," the handsome, insinuating stranger, the industrious, unsuspecting "Rabbit"; then the simultaneous bolt of "Kitten" and the stranger, the desolate burrow, and "Rabbit " rushing frantically round to the newspaper office and spending 10s on a "advertisement. It would seem that he did not at once gain tidings of the ab- ! sconding feline, for in next issue of the Daily Mail there . is this: "Kitten.— j Think how you are ruining yourself and ; me; people think you called for illness; j come back at once, make children and me ! happy; children crying for you. Am ill ! myself.—Rabbit." But, apparently,

"Kitten" was either not a subscriber to the Mail, or else she found her prospect of the future so rosy as to make her steel her heart against these appeals. " Babbit " had already wasted a guinea on a kind of puss in boots without improving matters at all in the burrow, but he comes bravely to the attack again in the following day's paper—only this time he spends just 6s : " Kitten.—Do return immediately ; worn out; no sleep; cannot eat; will wire money; always love you. —Rabbit." Having come this far, we are inclined to regard the matter as serious, and to feel sorry for the " Rabbit." The sequence of advertisements really suggests a pitiful human tragedy, common enough in our little community : 10 times more common in London. The careless sinner yclept "Kitten" gave no sign, and next day the paper contained "Rabbit's " last despairing appeal : " Kitten. —Come back at once and I will forgive anything; do write me; always love you. Rabbit." Whether "Kitten" was touched by the pathos of this wail, or whether poor " Rabbit " succumbed to insomnia and a broken heart, it would be difficult to say; but there were no more advertisements. Personally, we incline to the opinion that the enterprising,stranger found Kitten rather more than a handfuf of fur, as a result of which discovery, she returned to Rabbit's bereaved and humble burrow. '' Mia,—lnn32—c4m3ng—f r3dly—stly3ng —w22k2nd—2v2r—trs2." This conspicuous two-line advertisement, there is no doubt, offers a direct snub to the curious, and at the same time brazenly hints that it hides a fearful lot of mystery. We must admit that it caused us some serious deliberation, until we remembered that the vowels, a, e, i, o, u, if taken in their numerical order, may be represented by the numerals, 1,2, 3,4, 5. So the message to Mia, we learn, was as follows :—" Annie coming Friday; staying week-end; ever true." This, ip will be admitted, was indeed a tremendous discovery. No one will deny that the knowledge that Annie was ever true is of the utmost importance. That secretive, coded, advertisement, could it only feel, must have been mightily shamed by the crisp frankness and cloying sweetness of these pregnant messages, among which it was sandwiched : " Girlie.—Write when possible. "Love you just the same." " Twelfth.—May I some day share many happy returns with a dear silly kid?" " Mayflower.—Send me one little word. Can't forget, Dick Dear." "Boy Dearie. —I do, too, more than ever, and shall just always. —Little Woman." And so on, ad nauseam. There is an enthusiastic trustfulness about this one that somehow grips our attention : " Partridge.—Letter received quite safe; write. Love, I want you.— Browneyes." Some people, like Andrew Carnegie, the Commissioner, of Police, Amy Bock, or Mr A. W. Hogg, get more than a fair share of joy and excitement out of life, and we are inclined to believe that "Partridge" is one of them. A horse of another complexion is represented by a notice that runs through half a dozen issues of the paper : " Will T. P. come to "N. F. H. ? The little man is very ill." Just that. It might mean a- lot. Very likely it means nothing more than it says. Here is one, however, that, if so read, would concern a popular " Salome " poseuse, and indicate the unhaonv termination of affaire d'amour : " Maudallan.—Thanks for fiver and sarcastic letter. Good-bye.—Boy." The "fiver" reference is distinctly interesting, as suggesting a variation of the " cut you off with a shilling " phrase. This is the wail of a tired soul : " Tuesday.—Do want you so badly.- Longing for Friday. Do love you so much."

With somewhat mixed feelings one discovers in this wilderness of rubbish a trace of Maoriland : " Karamea. —Disappointments, sorrowful, longing, great hopes, pleasant surprises, love." This cryptic sentence, if cryptic it be, might indicate that a New Zealander in London is as optimistic as a New Zealander in New Zealand. .On the face of it, it may have reference to a question of gift battleships, or it may merely mean that n. tourist from God's Own Country has gazed too long at Cleopatra's Needle, and lost his mind. This, we have reason to imagine, has little to do with " dearests " and " darlings " and their agonies: "Burglary, Elmwood, Harrow.—Please return the minature. Quite valueless, but much prized." Now, what selfrespecting burglar could resist that frank appeal? We can almost see Sykes sprinting for the next Harrow train with the prised minature under one arm. This advertisement, there is no doubt, is twin brother to that which we first noted. The "Dearest" and the "Aye" are identical. " Dearest. —Not happy last night. Wanted my Heart's Desire too much, all to myself. Love my darlingmore than ever. My own beautiful, tall, proud Queen. Thine only. Aye." It would be foolish to wonder whether his "Heart's Desire"—to wit, his "own beautiful, tall, proud Queen " —when discovering by a simple calculation that that advertisement cost 10s 6d was more than usually gratified.

These extraordinary and extravagant advertisers have a decided penchant fot French words and trite phrases. Here, for instance, are two appearing togethei in the column : " Mon Ami. —So sorry.' Piggy Wiggs still in town." " Deeping.—■ Only business troubles; hope passing; feeling better; think of thee. Jq t'adore."

In conclusion, here, without comment,are a number of advertisements, some amusing, others pitiful, taken at random from the files: —"Aged. —Douglas, dearest, pray return; all arranged.—* Mother." " Nellie.—For sake of happy memories, come home again to your everloving Phil." " Eclie, dear, welcome letter. Tickie, bonnie boy.—Minnza." " Amorika.—Despaired. Beseech news. Pardon me. Thousand thanks. Write quickly. Inform." "Mary.—Cruellest Agony; reviving past; hesitate; pity.—i Joseph." " P.F.B. —Come borne immedi-i ately; all can be arranged. Nellie, Mother, Hilda, Edie, Cathy, agony.—. Dad." And finally this, appearing in every issue and inserted by an enterprising jewellery firm: "Engagement rings, set with diamonds, pearls, emeralds, rubies, etc., at all prices."