PASSING NOTES.

Otago Witness, Issue 3662, 20 May 1924, Page 3

PASSING NOTES.

(From Saturday’s Daily Times.) Mr Massey remarked to a deputation the other day that he saw no sign of a millennium at hand. Only the quack, prophecy-monger has visions of a speedy millennium. What does Mr Massey see'f Let Observation with extensive view Survey mankind from China to Peru. What Observation, in the person of Mr Massey, sees, is distress of nations with perplexity. Of the half-dozen biggestthere is hardly one that knows whether it stands on its head or its heels, I ranee doesn’t, Germany doesn’t, Japan doesn’t. In America the epileptic convulsions of a Presidential election every fourth year may be looked on as normal. This time it is more than epilepsy; —under the evil spell of Pussyfoot, America is tearing at its own vitals; meanwhile, in relation to the trouble of the world in general, is lost to life and use and name and fame. Of the British Empire, its dominions and dependencies, its world wide influence and responsibility, dare we speak with confidence? Personally, as an unsliakeable optimist, that is what I persistently dare. But there are adverse voices. About Canada, for instance. Sir James Allen, to whom on this subject the AgentGeneral for British Columbia says ditto, pronounces the situation in Canada one of “ delicacy,” a word that seems to put too fine a point upon it. In South Africa there is no delicacy at all; —secession is openly mentioned as an issue at tile forthcoming elections. In India .we are trying to sit on two stools and not succeeding. Nobody ever did succeed in sitting on two stools for long. To Egypt, once the thrall of Turkey, we have given independence. In return, Egypt sets up an impudent clamour that we surrender the Soudan. Here in New Zealand we have labour agitators who would strike the Empire flag, dismiss the warships, cashier the whole department of defence, and sit in imbecile content till it pleased the Japanese to come and take possession. However, none of these things move me. Let the great world spin for ever down tho ringing grooves of change. Let it! Under Providence —a pious qualification not to be omitted —the British Empire is the best hope of humanity, and 1 do not believe that this hope will founder. The bluejackets of the Dauntless got as far south as Riverton. From one of the speeches of welcome here is a fragment : When the foul German hawk rising from its nest, already stenchant with the mangled remains of its hapless

and helpless prey, its beak and cruel talons dripping with the blood of innocent victims, its unblinking eyes fixed on further spoil, this fair land of New Zealand, a downy chick far-straying from the protective mother-wing, had grave reason to fear the hurtiing swoop of its predatory enemy. But, fortunately for this country, a mighty eagle, its, eyes scale-free, launching into the blue empyrean from its lofty eyrie, and striking through space on thundering pinions, crashed that fell foe in mid-air, and sent it reeling with battered head and broken wing to the shelter of its hole. That noble bird was the British Navy, gentlemen, and I state confidently that there is no understanding man. woman, or child in this country but recognises the boys in blue as the instruments of their salvation. . . . If we were talking Shakespeare this would be “in Ercles’ vein.” If we condescend to Dickens and “ Martin Chuzzlewit ” it is the vein of General Choke and Mr La Fayette Kettle; e.g. —“In Freedom’s name—holy Freedom—l advert with indignation and disgust to that accursed animal, with gore-stained whiskers, whose rampant cruelty and fiery lust have ever been a scourge, a torment to the world. Where, sir, are tlve Cormorans, the Blunderborcs, the Great Feefo-fums, named in history? All, all, exterminated by its destroying hand. I allude, sir, to the British Lion. Bring forth that Lion! Alone I dare him! 1 taiunt that Lion. I tell that Lion that, Freedom’s hand once twisted in his mane, he rolls a corse before me, and the Eagles of the Great Republic laugh ha, ha! ’ We can do that sort" of thing quite well in New Zealand, given a fit occasion. And what occasion so fitting as a visitfrom the men of the warships? I myself -—-at gaze before the gallant fellows marching—have felt the dithyrambie impulse; but I should have come short of that- stroke of genius, “ stenchant ” apparently made from “ stench, ’ a stink. Germany rose from her stenchant nest, — better than her stinking nest ; more poetical. “With apologies to Thomas Babbington Macaulay”—an apology is certainly needed for putting an extra “b ” into his “ Babington ”-—a correspondent models on Horatius in the “Lays” a screed about the Waipori trouble. Only bits ol it can be got in here. But the Mayor’s brow was sad, And the Mayor’s step was slow, The water at Waipori dam Was getting very low. “If rain does not come quickly, We'll have to stop the light. And the Mayor of a benighted town Can hardly be made Knight.” Then up Spake brave Hendorus, Electric Engineer, “We hivna had tae dae that yet, So don’t give way to fear. You pray for rain, Sir Mayor, And all your Council true, While I and our good citizens Will do what men can do.” Accordingly they did this and they did that, as we know. “ Dowso the glim! ” was the rule for street lamps; and the churches—some of them—prayed fci rain. The Mayor scanned the heavens, He scrutinised the glass. He saw the rain-clouds gathering, He saw them rainless pass. ’Tia even said that often Ho drove out on the- sly To Waipori with a billy To augment the supply. And now the sullen showers At last have lent their aid, Restrictions all have been removed, The Diesel engines stayed. Yet, in the distant future, Our children shall be told How the home lights were shining kept In the brave days of old. A New Zealand girl, Miss Jane Mander, has a page to herself in the Bookman for March, together with a portrait,this in honour of her novel writing. Three novels are to her credit: the first “ The New Zealand River”; the second “The Passionate Puritan”; the third “ The Strange Attraction ”; none of them, as it chances, known to me.

Miss Jane Mander conies of pioneer stock. Her father—to-day he is Mander M.P. in the New Zealand Parliament—staked his claim in the early days of the North Island of New Zealand in the wild Kauri Gum forests. He was a rover, a man who was not frightened by obstacles, and his daughter has inherited these qualities. Facts that have a bearing ; for— What she learned in her native land she has put into her books without compromise, until in New Zealand small town librarians look askant at her pages and put them out of sight of youthful subscribers. Sounds bad. In charity we may hope that the small town librarians are themEelves small-minded men. Another young New Zealander, Mr C. R. Allen, a son of the High Commissioner and a native- of Dunedin, is favourably noticed in the Spectator of I ebruary 23 as a dramatist. In a little improvised theatre beneath the Church of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, two plays by Mr O. R. Allen had their first performance last week. These plays are true fantasies: in the remote fantastical world to which they belong a single false step -on the part of the writer, a hairbreadth of exaggeration, is fatal. But in Mr Allen’s case a strange twist of imagination, and a subdued sense of poetry in the dialogue, give life to his odd characters. The more important play, “ The Four Foundlings,” is a very considerable achievement. Mr Allen has treated the theme with unfailing beauty: there is austerity and power in his writing, tempered by a gentle and delicate fancy. It will be a great pity if a larger public does not have an opportunity of seeing “ Tho Four Foundlings.” In this context should be mentioned a young pianisto and concert player, Miss Vera Moore, a Dunedin girl who amply proved herself before a critical but delighted Dunedin audience a week or two back. Dunedin prides itself a little on its exuberance in forensic talent. Gf the eleven members of the Supreme Court bench—l think there are eleven—all but two are Dunedin men. A fact eminently calculated to gie us that gude conceit for which we ever devoutly pray. Also, mindful of our forbears in the Dunedin of the North, we cultivate the Muses, but not “ on a little oatmeal,”- —Tityre tiu, etc., — Silvestrem tenui musam meditaris avena. Eggs and bacon, rather, it is with us. On the origin and history of the odious word “stunt”—from Waiwera South: Dear Givis, —The alien “stunt” may not have been a product of the war, but very certainly it was one of the hardest-worked words among the soldiers. As I knew it first, a “ stunt” was a small operation such as a raid on the enemy’s trench-line. But latterly it was used for an operation that was akin to “playing to the gallery.” When an aeroplane sailed over our lines and, purely for the edification cf the boys, performed some aerial acrobatics, fellows would say, “ He's stunting.” When one got back to England, one found that “ stunt ” was one of the favourite words of the up-to-date-flapper. To-day the word is used quite frequently in sporting circles—a footballer may have a little peculiarity when playing—not necessarily “ showing off,” —and a barraeker will say, “That’s Harry’s stunt,” or he might say, “ That’s Harry’s strong suit.” Finally, among the best soldiers, the w r ord “stunt” -was dropped long, long ago. But just- as to-dav, a young man who never went soldiering describes everything as “ jake,” so some writers a. few years behind the times, refer to any peculiarity, any showing-off, as a “stunt.” —Your 3, etc., 4/448. It was natural that the war should bequeath us some additions to our vocabulary. Of these the fittest will survive,—Anza-c for one. Children of the next generation will fail to find “ Anzac ” on the map, but they will learn the story of the Australian and New Zealand Auxiliary Corps. For “Blighty, borrowed from the “ Biliti ” of the Indian troops—and for “ camouflage ’’—penalised in some London clubs by a half-crown fine—we have no use. Still less for “ stunt.” The dictionaries ignore it-, and Skeat gives no hint. Where it came from, the why and wherefore of its inventing, are a mystery. Oddities saved from the wastepaperbasket. —First, Advertisement in an Otago paper (whether North or South doesn't matter) setting forth in large type and capital letters certain house property for sale as A GTJTT.T-EDGED INVESTMENT. Commendable candour. “ Guilt-edged investment ” would be Pussyfoot’s word for shares in the Breweries Corporation. Next, from Timanu, a catalogue "of newspapers containing reports of notable puolio events, beginning with the “ English Mercurie ” of 1588 giving an account of the defeat of the Spanish Armada, down to a copy of The Times of June 22, 1815, giving Wellington’s Waterloo despatch 1 ;- all these for sale in Timaru, proceeds to

religious uses ” ; can I advise as to their market value? Impossible;—when tho thing to be sold is single of its kind comparisons are not available and “ market” there is none. The onlv test is the auction room, preferably Christie's in London. But I can give this inquirer seme information about the first item in 'his list. “ The English Me rcurie,” professing to be published under the authority of Queen Elizabeth and giving “ a journall of what passed between her Majesties fleet and that of Spayne,’’ is a well-known forgery, of date nearly two hundred years later than the reign of Elizabeth. Next and last, from Pukerari (somewhero in the baekblocks?) a fireside puzzler fo-r winter evenings: Dear f.-ivis, —A woman buys a certain number of eggs at 21 a shilling, and the same number at 19 a shilling: she mixes them together and sells them at 20 a shilling. A 3 hat does she gain or lose per cc-nt. by the transaction? Would you please give the answer? Certainly —the Naismith steam hammer Ivas a mighty stroke for forging an anchor, but the least little delicate touch for cracking nuts. Here, however, there is no nut to crack. Tho problem is solvable by what the pundits call “ inspection ” —-pen or pencil not required. Evidently the woman buys eggs at the rate of 40 for two shillings (21 and 10 make 40) and sells the same eggs at the same rate 40 for two shillings. Hence “ what she gains or loses per cent, by the transaction ”is nil. This mystery disposed of, Pukeuri may sleep in peace. Ci vis.