Editor's Walles.

Otago Witness, Issue 3860, 6 March 1928, Page 83

Editor's Walles.

REBELLION. I am tired of being patient, I am tired of resignation, I am sick to death of waiting for a joy that never comes, I am tired of stingy half-loaves, I am tired of imitation, I am tired of tasting other people’s crumbs. Let us once. 0 soul, be truthful, let us fling aside concealment While we take our fill of sorrow as we never could of joy! It is genuine, abundant. It hi.ours and not another’s. Let us once, O soul, taste fullness, though that fullness should destroy! — Palms. EXPERT ADVICE. Luck seemed to be on the side of the visitors’ team, and the home enthusiasts were feeling very blue as the football match progressed. Supporters of both sides were engaged in heated argument, and angry words flew like sparks from a smith’s anvil. “ What our team needs,” said one of jfTTSie home .side supporters, “is a good '■coach. Then we’ll show you people what real football’s like.” “H’m!” snorted his angry rival. “ What your team needs more than anything else is a good strong hearse.” WiSDOMETTES. It’s a fine thing to be thankful for your lot, even if it is not a lot. The easiest way of making a shadow is to stand in your own sunlight. . Those who are ashamed of their position should be ashamed of themselves. There are so many motor cars now that every year is leap year for th e poor pedestrian.

If you always do what you please, you’ll very seldom be pleased with what you db. Many girls say “No” to their first proposal, but they know how to retouch their negatives. LIFE’S FULFILMENT. He writes his life in largest letters who Makes someone else rejoice that he was born; Who, spite of all ambition bids him do, Tarries awhile to comfort the forlorn. ’Tie not alone in skill true greatness lies — Worth comes not only to the brilliant mind; Greater than man’s ambition to grow wise May be his secret purpose to be kind. Success on earth is such a shadowy thing! Despite the emphasis on wealth and fame. That what from men the loudest cheers may bring, From God may win the banishment of shame. But this we know: no kindly deed is lost. Nor is there doubt of any good man's worth. Who plays the friend, regardless of the cost, Though rich or poor, has justified his birth. — Edgar A. Guest, in an Exchange. THE THREE ARTS. Fame comes to the artist who paints all alone; To author who writes in his den. But we of the stage, when our sketches are shown. Have used neither brushes nor pen. The pictures we paint are the largest of all; The stories we tell are most true. We carve them in life, when we answer their call. Ourselves we give freely to you. But after the last final curtain is drawn, No tangible art do we give. Enriching the world with no work of renown, In memory only we live. And soon will this tribute fade quickly away, Though homage for years has been shown. Achievements forgotten, our names nought convey. We join the great host—the unknown. — Minerva Florence Swigert, in Interludes. ETHICS. “What are ethics?” asked a, youth of his father, who was a partner in a grocer’s shop. “Ethics,” replied the parent, “are the things that tell you the difference between right and wrong.” The youth looked puzzled. " Well,” went on his father, “ suppose I’m serving in a shop, and a man cives me a pound note to pay a fen shillings bill. I go to get his change, and discover there’s two one-pound notes stuck together. Well, ethics is what makes me decide whether to keep the extra pound for myself or go halves with my rpartner.” ALL IN THE DAY’S WORK. “ Hard work? ” Smithers snorted, after a particularly gruelling day at the office. Don’t talk to me. What do you know about it? ” His friend, who was not an office ■worker smiled. “Well. I think I know a bit,” he answered. “ Since I got up this morning, ■for instance, I’ve put down some laid three carpets, papered two rooms, fixed a fireplace ” interrupted Smithers sympathetically. “Your wife made you’ do all that? ” “ No, my little girl did,” said the other iilandly. • She s got a new- coil’s house.”

WHICH? The aspiring amateur had given an impersonation of a. well-known actor, who was present at the performance. Afterwards the amateur succeeded in getting an introduction. “ Did you see my impersonation of you, sir? ” he asked, ingratiatingly. J “ Yes, I saw it.” “And.” persisted the aspiring youth, “ may I ask you to give me your verdict on the excellence and fidelity of my art as disclosed in the impersonation of yourself? ” “Well, one of us is rotten,” was the reply. PREPARED FOR THE WORST. An Englishman visiting a friend in Nevada, suggested one morning shortly after his arrival that they take a stroll to a mountain visible from his friend’s home. With secret mirth his host agreed, but after walking several hours the Englishman was amazed to find the mountain apparently no nearer. Upon inquiring how far the mountain was from them, he was astonished to learn that it was still 25 miles away. His host then explained to him that the air in Nevada is so rare that distances are very deceptive. Returning home by a different route, they came to an irrigated field, and at the first , ditch the Englishman sat down and, to his host’s surprise, began to remove his shoes. “ What on earth are you going to do ? ” he asked. The Englishman, gravely contemplating the ditch, replied: “ Why, I’m going to swim this blooming river! ” BARGAIN. With his unspent youth Like a penny in his hand, See him stand! There’s a. look on his face Like a child that comes To the market place After tops and drums. With his youth—his youth As a thing that he can spend— See him run! And what -will he have for His bargain at the “.nd When it’s done?

I have asked old men With their empty purses, I have heard the tale Each one rehearses. And on the last page They have all bought age, They have all bought age. When youth is spent Like a penny at a fair, The old men tell Of the bargains there. There was this and that For a price and a wage, But when they came away They had all bought age. — Louise Driscoll, in Poetry. SOMETHING ELSE. A couple, apparently from Manchester, staying at a Bournemouth hotel, were visited one evening by three friends. As a result of the usual hospitable question an order was given for “One stout one lemon squash, and three aigs.” The waiter returned with two drinks and three eggs. .“’Ere what’s this?” demanded the giver of the order. “It ain’t breakfast time. “ You said three eggs, sir,” replied the waiter. No, Ah didn’t,” was the indignant retort. Ah said Three ’Aigs ’ —’Aigs whisky, as plan as Ah could speak! ” LUBBERS’ MISTAKES. “ Yain « l he Scvon Seas,” by Comniander I'. G. Cooper, is a proper sailorly book, and will appeal to everyone with salt water m the blood. It gives stories of adventure m ships from the fast-dis-appearing sailing ship to the modern battleship. In a chapter on the literature of the sea. Commander Cooper has some remarks about the correct phraseology of the sea which authors of sea stories will do well to read. In illustration of the mistakes a land-lubber can make he tells of how a stoker had missed his passage m a small cruiser: b . ‘On arrival at our destination the missing man reported on board, having travelled up by rail. He was in due course brought before the commander, a I'igid disciplinarian and very punctilious in the observation of what he termed the time-honoured phraseology .of the sea. <toi, * i lng eonv ersation took place: — What have you to say?’ ‘Please sir T massed the boat and came on by train.’ Missed the what?’ ’Missed the boat, sir’ ‘What?’ rating? ’ ‘ Fireman, ‘ i What. Please, sir, a fireman? °u have given no adequate reason for “Jssing your passage. You call a ship a boat, and you, a stoker, call vourself a comfit tot he d . evil , is the service coming to? Fourteen days’ 10A for missiKr!’” PaSSage and f ° r being a d —cl . IDLE GOSSIP. Bl 'e'vster, the celebrated actor, had fallen m love once again, and he was very happy. ’ Unfortunately, however, celebrated actors are for ever in the public eye and everybody had something to ,say y about Brewster s previous five wives. All of them were dead. Eventually his fiancee heard of it. ■1 think 1 love you, Bvron dear” eUo such ?^. late \l’ ve been hearing SU «things about you that ” • •n y , dear » interrupted the actor joviaUy, “you really mustn’t believe those olu wives tales.” >

MY JOB. - | My job is more than making things; It’s thinking thoughts and growing wings, And filling every golden hour With something that will bear the flower And fruit of helpfulness and care For those who heart and hearthstone share, As well as for a world of men Who may be far beyond my ken. » My job’s not all at desk or loom, In field or shop or street dr room; There’s also work which earns no wage Except love’s worthwhile heritage; Yet, whatsoe’er it be, I’d try To do it so that, by and by When sinks to rest life’s westering sun, The final word shall be, “Well done! —A. B. C., in Tit Bits. TRUE SAYINGS. Lif e is a burden to some people, and others are a burden to life. Some men seek justice, whilst others have it thrust upon them. The louder a man talks, the easier it is not to believe what he says. Many a. man with a will of his own has a codicil added to it by his wife. The pace that kills wouldn’t be so bad if it killed only the pacemaker. You are apt to get a stinging reproof for .interfering with the busy bee. Nothing jars a woman’s sweet and trusting disposition so much as marriage. The straight and narrow path is not a favourite thoroughfare with crooked people. The world may admire promising young men, but most of us prefer those who pay cash. Many a man would feel like a fish out of water if by any chance he could get out of debt. This may be the land of the free, but anything worth having is seldom offered to us that way. A woman may say what she thinks, but it’s usually obvious that she doesn’t think half what she says. AT LONG LAST. When a worried-looking man applied for settlement of a claim for fire insurance, the agent asked: “ Much damage ? ” "Not much,” the man said; “just a door.” How much would a new door cost?” “About a pound.” “When did the fire happen? ” The man hesitated a moment, and then replied: “About thirty years ago.” “ Thirty years ago.” ' i “ Yes ” I "And you’ve waited all these years to I report it? ” ' “ Yes.”

“How did that happen? ” " Well,” said the man, “my wife has been on at me to do something about that door ever since it was burned, and I couldn't stand it any longer.” ' I SHALL NOT CHANGE. Soon from the trees the leaves will fall; The summer days will cooler be. The early night will darken all; The wind will whistle in the tree. The little brook will lose its song,. And all the world will seem so strange— The day so short, the night so long— I shall not change! Soon out of doors the drifting snow Will turn the earth from green to white; And lovely paths we’ve come to know All will be hidden from our sight. But let the landscape change at will To fragrant fields or ice-bound range, Through bitter days I’ll love you still— I shall not change. — Anne Campbell, in Women’s Weekly. BEING PHOTOGRAPHED. The success of a photograph depends almost as much an the sitter’s mood as on the pose. If she feels rushed or worried while being taken this will be noticeable, however much she tries to put on a pleasant expression (writes M. L. D. in the Manchester Guardian). Fatigue and cold give the face and eyes a strained and shrunken look, thus making the sitter look older than she actually is. The psychologist’s advice, “ Think of beautiful things if you want to look beautiful,” is excellent in this connection, and to it might be added, “ Think of amusing things if you want, to look lighthearted.” For these reasons a. cheerful, happy-go-lucky friend is the best to accompany the sitter. Smooth-surfaced white dress materials usually look hard when photographed, and coloured soft ones which drape "gracefully always come out well. A severe or plain type of hairdressing looks more severe in a photograph than on the sitter herself, so that it is necessary to loosen it a little round the face in order to get a good effect. HIS BLACK CAT. Those who believe that a black cat brings luck may like to ponder the- testimony of a Gloucestershire reader (says a Daily Chronicle writer). Last year, he says, my boy set out to sit at an examination for a scholarship in a certain village. A black cat met him at the door and followed him to the front gate. A short distance from the railway station another black cat came up and accompanied him to the departure 'platform. On arriving at his destination, and when nearing the house where he was to stay, a black cat suddenly appeared in the street and escorted him to the door. Next morning, when he started for the examination room, a black cat came along, rubbed, itself affectionately against his trousers, followed him about a hundred yards, and then disappeared. He was successful.” WAGNER’S WIDOW. Cosima Wagner, widow of the composer, is 90 years old ' this month. One of the' most remarkable women of the nineteenth century, she now lives at Bayreuth, and is. rarely seen in public, but keeps to an astonishing degree ' her memory and will-power (remarks a Daily Chronicle writer). She has alwaysr been noted for her forceful will, and it is owing to her' that the famous Bayreuth festival is "held m accord with Wagner’s wishes and- has remained in its organisation a quasi family affair.

MAKING IT WORSE. We have had some chilly nights lately. On one of the coldest of them I was made rather colder by meeting a woman who wore only a thin cloak over her evening frock (says a Daily Chronicle writer). Further along I saw an open-air young man striding along, with his shirt open ing out behind him, and his shirt open and his chest completely .bare. Then I saw a young Scoutmaster stroll across Whitehall. He was smoking a pipe, and had the air of a man out for a casual stroll after dinner. Hatless and coatless, he was clad in the uniform khaki shirt and shorts of a Scout. I saw these three people all within 10 minutes, but I was by then so cold that I had to seek the nearest tube station. ' ! “HOLLYWOOD, ENGLAND.” We are heartily glad the foolish plan of renaming the . ancient village of Boreham Wood and calling it Hollywood has been abandoned (says the Daily Express) . How on earth anyone imagined the idea would help in the building up of the British film industry is a puzzle. British films, to be successful, must achieve a distinction and personality of their own. To start out by borrowing the name of the Los Angeles film centre would be to surrender the spirit of high enterprise at the very beginning. Hollywood, America, is a commercial triumph. Hollywood, England, would have been a joke from the start. TEA DRINKING. Science is, as they say, wonderful, but its disciples do now and then lag behind the band. A medical journal, in its diamond jubilee number, publishes a solemn article which declares that tea is a useful slight stimulant, produces a useful antagonist to the soporific effect of a meal, promotes a sense of well-being, and should be freshly made with boiling water and tiie infusion not left long on the leaves. So now we know. Seriously, it would take a very vigorous medical campaign to stop tea drinking (observes an Evening Standard writer). Tea -is perhaps' the greatest blessing we have had from the East, and modern life would be much more difficult without it, The bad old habits of stewing or boiling tea are surely very rare nowadays. and are followed only through poverty or carelessness, not ignorance. DAILY DOINGS. Mr Lewis Melville quotes in his “The Star or Piccadilly ” (a life of the fourth UuKe of Queensberry) a contemporary account of the daily doings of “ Old Q.”: ■ P l ’ kc of Queensberry’s sustenance is thus daily administered:—At 7- in the morning he regales in a warm milk bath, pel fumed with almond powder, where he takes his coffee and a buttered muffin, aiid. afterwards retires to bed. He rises about 9, and breakfasts on cafe au lait with new-laid eggs just parboiled;' at 11 he is presented with two warm jellies and rusks; at 1 he eats a veal cutlet a la Maintenon; at 3, jellies and eggs repeated; at 5 a cup of chocolate and rusks; at 7 he takes a hearty dinner from highseasoned dishes, and makes suitable libations of claret and madeira; at 10, tea coffee, and muffins; at 12 sups off a roast pullet, with a. plentiful dilution of limepunch. At 1 a.m. he retires to bed in high spirits, and sleeps till 3, when his man-cook, to the moment, waits upon him in person with a hot and savoury veal cutlet, which, with a potation of wine and water, prepares for his further repose, that continues generally uninterrupted till the morning summons to his lactean bath.