PASSING NOTES.

Otago Witness, Issue 3327, 19 December 1917, Page 3

PASSING NOTES.

(From Saturday's Daily Times.) At an earlier time—four years ago, for example—the taking of Jerusalem by a British army, which is the event of the week, would have*""seemed to the world prodigious. It is one better than the taking of 'Bagdad, and the taking of Bagdad might have been borrowed from the dreamland of the "Arabian Nights." Dreamland, indeed ! —no wildest dreamer had pictured such possibilities. We have next in mind, it seems, the taking of Aleppo, wherever Aleppo may be, —somewhere in the magic realm of Haroun-al-Rasohid, doubtless; and after Aleppo there can only remain Constantinople itself. Meanwhile our far-flung battle line, would that it were shorter! We might gladly exchange the pride of these achievements in the outfield for the comfort of greater strength at the centre. None the less, however, do we take credit for accelerating the Turks' decline and fall. The crescent as a symbol, by intention an insolent prophecy. has always been ambiguous. An illuminated boomerang in the sky is not necessarily the waxing moon; it may be the waning moon. And that is what the miscalled Turkish " crescent " is to-day. The moon of Mahomet Arose, and it shall set: While, blazoned as on heaven's immortal noon, The cross leads generations on. Lines which, curiously enough, are by poor distraught Shelley. The Welsh and Home Counties troops, advancing from Bethlehem, drove back the enemy, and, passing eastwards of Jerusalem established themselves on the Jerioho road. Simultaneously the London infantry and dismounted yeomanry attacked strong positions tcT'tho west and northwest, and established themselves astride the Shechem road. The Holy City was thus isolated, and surrendered. After pondering the above cables and stamping applause to Professor Bedford at the King's Theatre, the P.D. attached to this column has been inspired to the following effect:

The Pasha looked out from his fortress wall, hard by the Jaffa Gate: " The infidel dogs are closing in, they give us not long to wait! This side they block the Bethlehem road, the Jericho road on that, And anywhere between you may hear the boom—-and the r-r-r-rat-at-at. Pound by the left they circle still, —and wo needn't go far to seek 'cm ! For there, to the north, they have stopped our vent, bestriding the road to Shechem ! Go! —Catch me a Frank in the nearest street, a fat one, good for inmaling, A priest at 'the Holy Sepulchre, and a Jew at their Place of Wailing; Go, grab'an Armenian baby or two at the Convent here on the hill, With a nurse or the Reverend Mother; — that's a round half-dozen to kill. By the sacred camel's holy hump ! —by the ass of the Caliph's daughter!— Cornered and caught, we will finish off with a representative slaughter!" Thus raged and rampaged the Pasha, his truculent wishes recounted; . When 10, apropos, galloped in a squadron of New Zealand Mounted: "Surrender, old chap !—Hands up! —Or we shoot without reason rendered !" And up went the quivering hands, —the Pasha had meekly surrendered. The official story is that General Allenby and his staff marched in afoot. "As if attending a funeral," says the P.D. "But first they sent in their patrols to see all safe, —you bet!" Dear " Civis," —After reading Posing No.tes on Rev. Howard Elliott, the conclusion is forced upon me and doubtless upon many others, that "Civis," in addition to being clever and versatile, is also unscrupulous and wanting in principle. I have in the past always admired the wholesome patriotism and consistent loyalty of "Civis"; in these virtues he was not behind Punch, who always rings true. Punch achieved by caricature what "Civis" aims at in a literary way and I do not underrate his success. Punch has always been the soul of honour, but what must be said of "Civis." after his Howard Elliott contribution?" This, with much more °f the same sort, for which, with tho best will in the world I am unable to find space, comes from "John Knox," whose present address, it seems, is Invercargill. "John Knox" suggests that my antipathy to the antiRoma/ni3t propaganda of the Rev. Howard Elliott is by way of flattering the Tablet and throwing a sop to Father Coffey. Gracious ! —this to me, who would not flatter Neptune for his trident, Or Jove for his power to thunder Anti-this or anti-that, —I am anti everything and everybody that at this critical time is anti our solid unity. Seditious Sinn Feiners, whether under the banner of religion or not, will be shown no mercy. On the other hand I have just as slender liking for the Orange agitator. Here is a little story told by Professor Kettle, who, like Willie Redmond, a Roman Catholic and an Irish Nationalist, has laid down his life for the Empire in this war: — Somewhere in the "Black North" the professor when driving had given a lift to a<n Ulster boy. After his spin the boy lifted hia cap and said: "Thank you, Mr Kettle, I am much obliged. To hell with tho Pope," and walked sedately away. " Surely a spirited and quaint declaration of independence and incorruptibility," says the professor, generously. Doubtless. All tho same, it is the spirit that we don't want here. "North Island Orchardist " —an Eve in her garden, and justly suspicious of agen cies Saianic —has made experiment of existence without the beverages —tea, coffee, cocoa —denounced by Dr Truby King as " diabolical." L T nder these conditions she has "done her month." I sincerely regret to say I am the better for my abstinence—so much the better that, as national efficiency is

tho order of the day, I feel I must abstain till the end of the warl Wo ought to win the war, don't you think, if women can give up tea?

They can give up tea, and a great deal more. Women are the best givers up the war has produced. They give up their sons, their brothers, their lovers, their husbands. Ala 3 and alack ! —men must work and women must weep J There is small merit, however, in a giving up for which you are "much the better." "But, oh, my beloved afternoon tea!" —Eve's Lamentation, new version. Precisely;—our vices are often very precious. And the tea habit —early tea at half-past seven, morning tea at eleven, afternoon tea any time between three and five—is a pee. It is a gluttony that people have died of. Gluttony takes on many forms. King John died of a dish of lampreys; Gautama, the father of Buddhism and the grandfather of Theosophy, died of a surfeit of rice and pork. It would be possible, I suppose, to die of - boiled wheat and linseed oil—a regimen for which Dr Truby King put in a good word. And it is certainly possible to die of too much tea.

Apropos, —Lord Rhondda, British Food Controller, has warned British households to moderate their tea drinking. The Go.vernment has bought up all foreign supplies and " will control tea from the ship to the teapot." If, as this suggests, the nation will drink less tea, it is a consoling possibility that the nation will be much the better for it. A gallant attempt is being made in the 'English press to find a blessedness in the shortage of sugar. It is to sugar that we owe the decay of teeth and a liability to diabetes; not to mention that sugar "deprives us of the enjoyment of the real flavours of our food," —of a green gooseberry pie for example ! Not easily do British habits adjust themselves" to Food Control. It is a queer story when the middleman becomes a "profiteer" and punishable because he has Bought and sold on paper —e.g., a greengrocer was cast in damages for buying swedes in the ground at £4 10s a ton and selling them three months later at £27 a ton, —" the swedes not having actually passed through his hands." And the housewife in whose pantry a constable had found "nearly three stones of bread and several slices of bacon in a small tub" must have suffered a pained surprise in a fine of £5 for wilful waste. In the present posture,, of affairs Lord Rhondda and his doings are a very necessary evil. More power to him.

In Passing Notes of last Aveek: " What is the meaning of the -letter 'M' before a Russian name?", asks a correspondent. "It can't mean ' Monsieur,' and it can't mean ' Mister'; then how do you pronounce it?" Well, 'if you ask me, I don't pronounco it at all. " Monsieur Kerensky" and "Mister Kerensky" are equally absurd; hence, whatever the newspapers print, I say "Kerensky" simply. Some handle to his name the untitled Russian has, no doubt, something answering to "Monsieur." "Mister," " Herr, and " Signor," but nobody seems to know what it is. A Ohristchurch newspaper-man writes me thus: — Dear Sir,—The correct " handle " is, I think, " Gospodin," and the initial, of course, " G." The matter was discussed in The Sphere some three or four months ago, but I am too lazy to look it up again.—Yours, etc., O. B. Laziness is the native vice of newspaper men; I am afflicted that way myself. Nevertheless I have had energy enough to turn up the Oxford Dictionary and to discover that it gives a form of Hospodar, lord." Also: "In Southern Russian ' gospodari' means 'master of the house.' " As our "Mister is "master," this seems near enough. But in Russian novels everybody seems to address everybody by Christian name and surname both ; of "Gospodar, or "Gospodin," there is no trace. French is the language of international diplomacy, and the forms "M. Kerensky," "M. Trotsky," and the like come into use under cover of that fact. But outside of diplomatic circles there is no need to "Monsieur" these gentlemen. Let it be "Kerensky" for short, and "Trotsky" for short, especially "Trotsky." Any name is good enough to hang a dog by.

Dear " Civis," —As I always come to you, and you never fail me, I ask you to tell me why we pay large salaries to Public Health Inspectors while one of the most beautiful suburbs of Dunedm is contaminated by one family, and that a German one, who are allowed to cart every kind of filth to rot and poison the district? Why do the mspeo- * 'tors wink at this outrage?

Or rather, why do they refuse to sniff at this fragrance? German, is it?—then it must be bad. At Cologne—a town of monks and bones, and pavements fanged with murderous stones, rags, and hags, and hideous wenches —Samuel Taylor Coleridge, if we may believe him, counted two-and-seventy stenches, all well defined, and several stinks. Whereupon he made appeal to the Nymphs that reign o'er sewers and sinks:

The river Rhine, it is ■well known, Doth wash your city of Cologne; But tell me, Nymphs 1 what power divine . Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine? / A German stink is, ex hypothesi, worsa : than any other stink; hence, if this alien | nuisance exists in the suburb referred to—# the name of which I suppress in the in# j terest of property holders—it behoves th 4 t Health Officer to be up and doing. J' From the Matriculation an academical pleasantry : Geogeapht. I | The question on map-reading- (question I) must be attempted. Section a. f 1. By moans of the accornpanyinar map describe as nearly as you can the surface of the country over which wer® fought the battles of Dunajco and Gorlice (May, 19151, with especial reference to the valleys of the Ropa-Biala and the Danajeo from Konieczna (height, 560 metres), in the south, and Zakliczyn (west) to Biala .(north). Note the moans of communication bq< tween Barthold. Grybow, Noyy Sacs* Zakliczyn, and Vojnicz—positions occtu pied by the Austro-Germans before tha battles named —and also between Zboro. ; . Gorlico, Jaslo, Tuchow, Tarnow, and s the Dunajco for tenr miles south of V Biala—positions occupied by the Rue- ' N sians, who afterwards were compelled w to retreat. It is not suggested that the examiner oaf achieving this masterpiece chuckled ovoi f the vision of resulting dismay:—“That’ll k settle ’em! —Guess they’ll find that / joke!” Not so. The examiner may btf j taken to be a conscientious pedant; Bui ) there is a joke, and an expensive jokaL - The joke is the existence of such ai( examiner. Civis,