THE SKETCHER

Otago Witness, Issue 3861, 13 March 1928, Page 73

THE SKETCHER

ANTS. I read about a man who was tied down, And the ants ate him: His fingers—his ears—his eyes—his tongue— All were eaten by the little things t And at last t They emptied the bony cavity that held his brain, Sucking and sucking. -. . .-. I am tied down, and the little things are eating me. . . . The friend who calls me on the telephone and talks and talks, The agent with new mops, The husband who insists that I make love to him when I would make a song of love, The children who quarrel and will not do . their lessons, The avalanche of sewing that threatens to smother me. The letters from Cousin Anne and Brother Ben and Aunt Hattie that must be answered, The ice-man’s short weight and the butcher’s carelessness, Even the rosy baby murmuring at my breast. . . . rAll, all are slowly eating me alive! My fingers no longer obey me, My ears cannot hear, My eyes cannot see, My tongue cannot sing, And, slowly, the bony cavity that holds my brain Is being emptied. . . . But my husk smiles and smiles, So that no one knows I am being eaten By little things! WHO’S YOUR LETTER FROM? Rat-a-tat! The postman brings the letters. “ Two for you,” says John, as he passes them over. “ One looks like Molly’s handwriting. What does she say?” obviously expecting the letters to be passed on for his perusal. You meekly pass the letter, slitting open the next one, and devoutly praying the next letter from Molly will arrive by the second post, when John is not at home. You know John has always been prejudiced against Molly. “Pooh, what a lot of bosh!” he says. “ Can’t think why she wastes time and paper writing such rubbish.” The point of view of a mere man, of course f * * * I wonder how many letters are written that are seen by a third person! Now I would hate to think that the frivolous letter I wrote last week, when in that mad mood, was read by Jean’s husband, who is such a solid lump of respectability. Or that the grumblings of a depressed female were read by Betty’s mother, who looks with a glassy eye upon the “modern” (accompanied with a sniff!) friends of her daughter. Some girls are even guilty of showing a would-be lover’s first letters to their friends. They like to show that somebody evidently admires them. They are usually frank, jolly girls, but surely this is the time for a little reserve. *. In our grandmother’s time these sacred epistles were tied with lavender ribbons and consigned with tender care to a drawer, with other treasures of sentimental value. And, after all, showing them is not quite fair to him, is it? * There are many letters written far too sacred ever to be read by a third person. Others—well, there’s no harm in them—yet, why should a third person read them? Number Three will miss the whole point of the jokes, not understand the references, and also form a wrong opinion of the other person. Besides, it’s not “ playing the game ” to Number One. Let us look at the writer’s point of view. He wouldn’t like, to think his letter was read, by a person to whom it was not addressed. People do not broadcast their inmost thoughts (or passing fancies.!) to the world at large. Business letters are, ■of course, a different matter. Very rarely indeed is it right for private correspondence to be read by a third person. The one who violates the confidence should certainly look at it from the three points of view before doing something which can never be undone. —Women’s Weekly. CITY TREES. The trees along this city ...street, Save for the traffic and the trains, Would make a sound as dun and sweet As trees in country lanes. And people standing in their shade Out of a shower, undoubtedly Would hear such music as is made Upon a country tree.

Oh, little leaves that are so dumb Against the shrieking city air I watch you when the wind has come— I know what sound is there. ASSAULT. I had forgotten how the frogs must sound After a year of silence, else I think I should not so have ventured forth alone At dusk upon this unfrequented road. I am waylaid by Beauty. Who will walk Between me and the crying of the frogs ? Oh, savage Beauty suffer me to pass, That am a timid woman, on her way From one house to another! —Edna St. Vincent Millay, in Second April. ROMANCE IN THE PURSE. The promised issue of new silver coinage in a short time should be an incentive to us to examine tb e coins. in our pocket or purse. In the daily business of getting and spending, little attention is paid to the design of the coin in our possession, but a close examination often reveals littleknown romance. Although the artistic value of our silver coins has often been criticised, the penny has escaped censure since the days of Charles 11, .to whose love of women we owe th e beautiful figure of Britannia. The model of this figure was a Court favourite, Frances Stewart, who. afterwards became Duchess of Richmond. It was a common practice at that time for the King’s favourites to be enshrined in the coinage, but this is the only surviving example. Since Queen Victoria came to the throne, few changes have been made in the coinage, but one of them resulted in a mistake in the lettering of the florin, which was first minted in 1849. By a strange oversight, the florin was issued without the Latin inscription, “ Dei Gratia,,’’ and was dubbed the “ godless florin. ’ Ihe coins were promptly recalled, but not before a large number were in circulation. Even to-day it is possible to come acrossgodless florins” in one’s change and within the last six months I have discovered two. The “ godless florin ” is not of any great value, but is worth about OS. Another interesting coin which I found quite recently in my pocket i s a William IV half-crown. Although this coin, nearly 100 years old, is rarely seen, it is still in current use. Silver coins dated earlier than 1816 are not legal tender. It is some time since four-shilling pieces vver e minted, but they are still occasionally passed across the counter. Most people prefer not to take them, as they are afraid they may have difficulty in passing them on. They are legal tender, however, and any bank will change them for more familiar coins. An interesting announcement with regard to the new coinage is that a very small issue of five-shilling pieces is to be made. Th e entire issue is almost sure to be snapped up by collectors, but if you happen to find one of the new coins in your change, it may be worth keeping it. It is many years since crowns have been minted, but in the last three years I have come across two such coins and one four-shilling piece. When a new issu e of coins is made, the old ones are not immediately called in, but as they begin to show signs of wear they are returned to th e Mint, and melted down. The life of the different coins vanes enormously. The half-crown has the longest life, averaging 64 years. The shortest lived is the threepenny bit, which is not very popular in England, but is übiquitous in .Edinburgh and Glasgow. The smallest coin is usually recalled after 30 years in circulation.—J.' B. Annand in the Weekly Scotsman. POEM. I’m looking for a fellow Pan Who’s partly goat and mostly man, And so I built my cottage here To hear him piping in the weir, To hear him humming in the bees, And hear him whisper in the trees. O peace immeasurable that sings In the great soul of simple things! One impulse from a vernal wood— To stand here where a deer has stood To drink at dawn! To hear the fall Of evening dewing over all! To watch the distant planets move! And hear birds roosting chirp of love! To watch the fiddling summer slide To autumn, and to hear the stride Of thundering winter, and in rain To feel the spring come back again! Something there is—a glimpse of all— And yet—O Spring! O Summer! Fall! O Winter! Once more everything O Summer! Fall! Ah Winter! Spring. Trees, brooks, and birds, and flowers, and bees! And bees and flowers, birds, brooks, and trees! To wonder always, more and more! O wonderful! Ah wonderful! Oh! Ah! Oh! Ah! 0 God, how dull! What was it I was looking for. —Chard Powers Smith, in the Nation.