PASSING NOTES.

Otago Witness, Issue 3509, 14 June 1921, Page 3

PASSING NOTES.

(From Saturday's Daily Times.) With the monotony of mining strikes and Sinn Fein Thuggeries the Australian cricketers in England pursue their march of triumph. I begin to feel that cricket rightly understood—“ casting a ball at three straight sticks and defending the same with a fourth ” —is a poor game, best played by children with battered kerosene tins for wickets. There is as much excitement that way, and not less fun. Indeed, if it is a question of fun and excitement, nothing can beat the match between Dingley Dell and AllMuggleton as reported in the Pickwick Papers I will indulge myself in a lengthy quotation from that classic; —it is better reading than anything in the current cricket cables. All-Muggleton had the first innings; and the interest became intense when Mr Dumkins and Mr Pcdder, two of the renowned members of that most distinguished dub, walked, bat in hand, to their respective wickets. Mr Luffey, the highest ornament of Dingley Dell, was pitched to bowl against the redoubtable Dumkins, and Mr Struggles was selected to do the same kind office for the hitherto uneonquered Podder. Several players were stationed to “look out’’ in different parts of the field, and each fixed himself into the. proper attitude by placing one hand on each knee, and stooping very much as if he were “rrakutg a back” for some beginner at leap-frog. . . . The umpires were stationed behind the wickets; the scorers were prepared to notch the runs; a breathless s : lence ensued. Mr 1 .uffey retired a few paces behind the wicket of the passive Fodder, and applied the nail to his right eye for several seconds. Dumkins confidently awaited its coming, with his eye fixed on (lie motions of Duffoy. “Play.” suddenly cried the bowler, dim bull flew from his hand straight and swift towards the centre stump of the wicket. 'T he wary Dumkins was on the alert; it fell upon tile tip of the bat, and bounded far away over the hands of the scouts, who had just stooped low enough to let it fly over them. “linn run—another. —Now, then, throw her up —up with her—stop there —another—no —yes no —throw hoi —up, throw her up.” Such wore the shouts which followed the stroke, and. at the conclusion of which, All-Muggleton had scored two. Nor was Fodder behindhand in earning laurels wherewith to garnish himself and Muggleton. Tie blocked the doubtful balls, missed the bad ones, took the good ones, and sent them flying to all parts of the field.

The scouts were hot and tired; the bowlers were changed and bowled till their arms ached; but Dumkins and Fodder remained unconquered. Did an elderly gentleman essay to stop the progress of the ball, it rolled between his legs, or slipped between his fingers. Did a slitn gentleman try to catch it, it struck him on the nose, and bounded pleasantly off with renewed violence, while the slim gentleman’s eyes filled with water, and his form writhed with anguish. Was it thrown straight up to the wicket, Dumkins had reached it before the ball. In short, when Dumkins was caught out and Podder stumped out, All-Muggleton had notched some fifty-four, while the score of the Dingley Defers was as blank as their faces. For All-Muggleton read the Australians; for Dumkins and Podder read Armstrong and Gregory. Granted that cricket is a man’s game, and worth crossing the seas to play, it is a scandal to play it as well as the Australians play it. it would be a scandal if schoolgirls played the piano as well as Paderewski plays it. Too much would have been taken out of life and energy. Literally, the game would not be worth the candle. In amusements everybody should be an amateur, nobody an expert. 1 recognise one exception. We have great drama, and great drama should be greatly interpreted. We may all welcome the Shakespeare revival just now promised us. It is unfortunate that with us all sport is competitive. What really interests us is not sport, but the win. The lowest kind of sport is competitive boat-rowing; vet the University boat race stirs all England. “ Which won ?” is the supreme question;—“Oxford or Cambridge?” Once, in the days before wireless, 1 chanced to travel from London in a P. and O. boat that made Adelaide her first Australian port. A tug came off to us from the shore. As she approached, our passengers with one consent crowded to the rail, and there went up a shout: “Who won the Cup?” So with every horse race; so with every rough-and-tumble football match; —even a cock fight would yield the same excitement and offer the same debated issue. We follow the cricket cables, not for the play (we don’t see it!), but for the scoring and the result. I submit that we should be a saner people if we equld say, each of us, —“Village-green cricket is good enough for me !”

On the ground that dancing carries a risk of mor.il contagion, the Y.M.C.A. authorities last night stopped the gyrations of H.M.S. Chatham sailors and the lasses who were entertaining one another at the Y.M.C.A. Hall. The result was that the bluejackets left for other parts almost in a body.— Christchurch telegram. So, according to the Y.M.C.A. and its ethical code, dancing is sinful, or at least tends to sin. Bryon held the same opinion; and Byron was a good judge. See his Hymn to the Waltz. It will pain the Y.M.C.A. to find itself in the same boat with Byron. When the Prodigal Son came home penitent there was ‘‘ music and dancing.” But not under the auspices of the Y.M.C.A. Oh dear no. The Y.M.C.A. would have turned out the lights and cleared the floor. —as at Christchurch. I am not disposed to forget that during the war the Y.M.C.A., in common with the Salvation Army and other religious agencies, did good service at the front. Our returned soldiers do not forget. After winning praise from the army, the Y.M.C.A. now puts itself wrong with the navy—more’s the pity ! Somewhere in Now Zealand a Presbytery or similar religious body (T have lost the newspaper cutting and am inexact) has been protesting against the flying of aircraft on Sunday. Equally reprehensible must be the movements of tram cars and harbour steamers. Here is another attempt to be righteous overmuch. The good people who would impose upon us a Hebrew Sabbath do not themselves conform to its rigour. Probably there is not one of them who does not Lurn fires and oook

“Clear your mind of cant” is a precept so patently good that without offence it might be fathered upon anybody. Usually, I think, the paternity is given to Dr Johnson. Since the armistice we have been haunted and harassed by cant phrases coming, curiously enough, mostly from America. “Freedom of the seas”, is one. By way of practical comment America proposes to dominate the seas by a navy outnumbering and outclassing ail other navies put together Next—“ Make the world safe for democracy.” Safe from democracy, is Russia’s reading. Lenin and company displace democracy by oligarchy ; any protesting democrat is paraded before a firing party. Then, next, that thrice-blessed word ‘ SelfDetermination,” —the special discovery of President Wilson, now discrowned, discredited, and sunk to low estate. The “ Manifesto of the Self-Determination for Ireland League of New Zealand,” with a copy of which I have been favoured, cites with fervour President Wilson as authority for self-determination in Ireland, but omits to mention that President Wilson’s most illustrious predecessor denied self-determination to an area in America equal to half-a-dozen Ire’ands, and enforced denial by the bloodiest civil war in history. What American is there now who thinks President Lincoln wrong? But reasoning, logic, appeals to common sense on this subject are all alike wasted. In the Daily Times this week one Irish Solomon argues for belief in Froude’s unfairness as an historian—taking the side of England against Ireland, because in the Boer War he took the side of the Boers against England! Irish this all over. Encouraged bv publication, my rhyming friend of last week tries again: Dear Givis, —The following purring paragraph appeared in last week’s cables:—“Discussing tile title of the coming Imperial Conference, Mr Churchill asked Mr Massey: “What shall we call each other?” Mr Massey replied: “You can call me Massey,” to which Mr Churchill’s rejoinder was: “And you may call me Winston.' \\ e used to think a Conference a serious affair, With stately Statesmen sitting round,— a Premier in the Chair. The fats of millions resting on the words that there were said. The Sword of War, the gifts of Peace, depending by a thread. Ah, no! ’Tis one more dream that’s gone;—one more illusion lost. llow much more human are the blokes by whom the State is bossed! It’s “Jimmy, pass the the jug along, I’m thirsty as the grave.” A Churchill’s only “Winston,” and the Premier’s merely “Dave.” The Pride of Birth, the claims of wealth, the charms aloofness lent. Are quoted at a discount now of ninetylive per cent. And though some shade of stiffness may haply linger still, It soon will pass;—it’s “Massey” new, to-morrow ’t’will be “Bill.” I would I wrote the Cables. With my tongue within my cheek. And fluent pen, I’d write the pars that people mostly seek — “A charming story of the Prince,” “The Duke who robbed a till,’ “How Massey spoke of “Winston, a; d Winston called him ‘Bill.’ Cheek By Jowl.

From Temuka : Dear Givis, Replying to a correspondent on the meaning of “democracy,” you say: “There are still some benighted people who would prefer aristocracy to democracy. For, after all, aristocracy means government by the best—if you could only find them ! And if you could persuade demos into agreement. But the world is r.ot moving that way.” Why are those people “benighted” who prefer government by aristocracy to democracy? Whether your correspondent understood the meaning of democracy does not matter; he drew from you some readable remarks, but your closing sentence bears the impress of nonchalance. My Temuka friend is slow in the uptake. It'should not be necessary to explain that I myself am among the people—the ironically “benighted” people —who would prefer government by the best, if we could find them. But it is proper to remember that “aristocracy” no longer means government by the best. ’’Aristas,” best, and “kratia” rule, —oh, yes, —any dictionary will tell you that. But harking back to etymologies is mere pedantry. In common use the word “aristocrat" de-notes-a member of a privileged order, a patrician in contrast with the plebs. And it is conceivable, just conceivable, that demos might throw up an aristocracy in the etymology sense, —that is a group of men best fitted to govern. But to resume : If government by the best is not likely to be agreed to by “demos,”

when and how may we fortify our confidence of a day when all the great forces of society—policy, law, power, learning, and art —shall bow to the lordship of moral ideas, and to the just sovereignty of their rule in all moral affairs? Please explain”—l suppose. Not this Lime! For the when and how of the millennium enquire elsewhere. From Beaumont : Dear “Civis, —There is an old adage “Thirteen at a table,” etc. (At the Lisf Supper there wore thirteen at table, and Judas, departing, went out and hanged himself.) If there is any truth in the belief that thirteen at table forebodes bad luck, Dunedin with its City Council as now reduced in number seems courting disaster. There are 12 councillors and a Mayor. Perhaps the councillors, one at a time, would take turns to be alieent from meetings The Mayor has already boon unwell. He has; but being a sensible mayor ho has got well again. His Council, fresh from the polls and strong in the confidence of its constituents, will look portents and omens calmly in the face. Not with ranting defiance, like “ bully Bottom ” in the play,— The raging rocks And shivering shocks .Shall break the locks Of orison gates; And Phibbus’ car Shall shine from far, And make and mar The foolish Fates. Nothing of that kind, —which would ill become our grave and reverend seniors. Not in Ercles’ vein; but sitting thirteen round a table, month by month, in peace and quietness, will the City Council “ make and mar ” a foolish superstition. Mainly about words.—From Tokomairiro : Dear C'ivis, —In yesterday’s issue of the Times we read: “Geese’s eggs are stated to bo the best, . . . Hen’s eggs come fourth, etc.” If we must say “geese’s eggs,” ought we not to say “hens’s eggs”? There is no need to say “geese’s eggs.” Why not say “goose eggs”? And since we say “hencoop” and “henroost,” why not sav “hen eggs”? The English language is free from throaty gutterals, hollow nasals, tlie liquid 1, the evasive eu ; its reproach among foreigners is an excess of sibilants. Get rid of every unnecessary s.—From Berwick : Dear Givis, —When a person reaches the age, say, of sixty years, is it correct to say that lie celebrates his 60tb birthday? Being 60 ypars old, ho must have had 61 birthdays. No; lie has had 60 birthdays plus the day on which he was born. “Birthday” means an anniversary of the day of birth.—From Queenstown, Tasmania: Dear Givis,—What heats this: 'Hie reader said: ‘That that ‘that,’ that that fellah used was wrong; because it happened not to be that ‘that,’ that hurt. Intrinsically mere silliness, this heaping up of “thats” may nevertheless he put to use. It points to a matter of nicety and importance—the choice between that” and “who” or “which” in relative clauses. Many a painful scribe has wavered. Is there a rule? There is, —a rule of sorts. We are to distinguish between defining and non-defining clauses: The distinction between the two kinds of relative is based entirely on the closeness of their relation to tho antecedent. The information given by a defining clause must he taken at once, with tho antecedent, or both are useless; that given by a non-defining clause will keep indefinitely, the clause being complete in sense without tho antecedent, and the antecedent without the clause. A defining clause is introduced by “that,” a non-defining clause by “who” or “which.” Subject to exceptions, this is the rule, and in the light of it the painful scribe mav go sounding on his dim and perilous way, inwardly blessing with Carlyle the grammar-makers and the gerundgrinders —“May Heaven confound you for your Theory of Irregular Verbs!” Civ ts.