Editor's Wallet

Otago Witness, Issue 3881, 31 July 1928, Page 83

Editor's Wallet

WIGS FOR WOMEN. ' Yes,” says my Daphne (captivating rogue). “This came from Paris only yesterday, And it’s the dernier cri. the latest vogue. This is but one of quite a fine array. What? Can I wear a wig? O! spare your passion - I’m going to wear whatever is in fashion. ’ O ( ne wig is very little use. you know; One might as well, be wearing one's own hair. A dozen make a fairly decent show. Unless your wardrobe is a large affair. This, ;is you see. is chestnut—just the shade To make a striking contrast with my jade. '■* Then for blue frocks I have two ..shades • of gold, And for flame red a glossy, black, to get The proper Spanish touch. No. please don’t scold, I haven’t told you half the story yet. — Of course, the tint of one's complexion, too, f Must be considered with a wig in view. " Nt>. no! You really mustn’t touch it, please! No, dear old thing, it isn’t that I’ve changed. One pays an awful lot for wigs like these. And I should hate to have mine disarranged. Why should you mind, when, after all, it's clear Ihat I’m considering your pocket, dear?” —O. E. 8., in Home Chat. HEARTLESS FATHER. “ How did you get on, Harold dear? ” The .fair young thing in the curtailed frock flung her arms round the welltailored youth and breathed the words into his ear. For Harold had been to see the girl’s ■father, seeking her hand in marriage. “Your father is a heartless brute! ” exclaimed the youth. “ I told him I couldn’t live without you ” “And what did he say, dear? ” The youth hesitated a moment or two, then exclaimed savagely: “ Well, to be frank, the old wretch -offered to pay my funeral expenses.”

THEATRE’S MYSTERY ROOM. When electrical engineers were asked to •quote for the overhaul of the lighting installation of a Glasgow theatre they ■seat a foreman to inspect the existing wires. He followed a certain line of cond«it until it disappeared in a wall. Here the trail ended, for he was unable to get to the other side of the wall. There was a door near by, but it was locked and the key had been lost. No one, from the manager to the call boy, could remember a time when the door had been opened. What mystery lurked behind that locked door. Curiosity was excited, and the manager decided to have the door forced. It turned out to be the door of a billroom, and from the date of the Jqst poster lying there the room had not been used since 1906. They had no difficulty in seeing the date, for a 16 c.p. carbon lamp was burning brightly. Somebody had left the switch oir when the room was shut up. and for over 20 years the lamp had bravely dono-its duty, wasting its GOwatts on. an empty room. It is rumoured that the manager, a Scot, was carried fainting from the scene. COULDN’T SEE WHY. Two . actors who were exceedingly jealous of each other met in a certain hotel much favoured by members of their profession. They exchanged frigid nods. “How are you getting on?” asked one Vpresently. . . “Pretty well,” answered the other in a • distinctly disagreeable tone. “ Still keeping alive.” The first speaker eyed his rival steadily dor a second, nodded his head once or rtwice, and then said very casually: “ What’s your motive? ” JUST A BLUNDERING ALONG. Just a blunderin’ along All the foolish moments through! Bein’ weak an’ bein’ strong, Just a blunderin’ along, Till I blundered into you! Just a blunderin’ along, Kinda sorrowful an’ blue.. Doin’ right an* doin’ wrong; Just a blunderin’ along, Till I blundered into you! Just a blunderin’ along! Love, the skies are clear an’ blue, Life is burstin’ into song, ’Cause in blunderin’ along, I chanced to blunder into you! —Anne Campbell, in Women’s Weekly. NEARING ZANTI. Isle of Zanti. from afar, Dark your wallowing shadows are -In the sapphire-laden sea. Drowsing .'round you lazily; Black your mountain scimitar. Then we glide towards a star Set in skies of cinnabar, Glimpse of loveliness to be, Isle of Zanti. Isle which never cloud can mar, Witching, sun-kiss’d Nenuphar, Open wide your arms to me, Wrap me in your mystery; Surely Home of Avatar! Isle of Zanti. * —U„ in G. K.’s Weekly.

THE SILVER CLUE. When Simpson was leaving his club one night he discovered somebody had taken his new umbrella—by mistake, of course —and had left an old one in its place. Next day he met J impsoil in the street with it. “ I. say, old chap.” said Simpson, pleasantly, “ would you mind handing over my umbrella? ” ” It’s not. yours.” replied Jimpson, indignantly. “ I bought it only last week.” ” Sorry if 1 make a mistake,” said Simpson. Then in a more serious tone: “ Would you care to do mo a slight favour? ” " What is it? ” “ Give me that silver band from round the handle: it’s got my name on it.” A SHAME. A worthy Scot was persuaded by his minister to become an elder. The new official was doubtful of his ability to produce that extempore prayer which is sometimes called for. To make sure, that lie would never be caught unawares, he pasted a prayer in his tall hat. The call came at a. funeral some days later, when, as the parson had not arrived, the elder was asked for ” a few words.” He went into the hall for his hat. He bowed over it reverently, as did his little audience. To their astonishment the new elder cried out in an agitated voice: “Guidness. this is no’ ray hat.” OLD AND NEW. A kiss once meant matrimony or disgrace! Now it lands only on the enamelled surface, and is rubbed off each night with cold cream. SWELLS. . - z I At the age of 18 a young man’s head , swells; at- 40 his waist swells; at 60 his/ ankles and knees swell. And occasion-; ally (opines “Jimmy”), despite these ; handicaps, he manages to have a swell time. FOR IDENTIFICATION ONLY. He thought he’d surely made a hit, When for his photograph she prayed. “ Out when this calls.” she wrote on jt, And gave it to the maid. MISREPRESENTED. Irate Parent: “While you stood at the gate bidding my daughter good-night—-did it ever dawn upon you ” Holmes: “Certainly not, sir! I never stayed as late as that.” PATSY. I just wish you could see her dance; I bet she’d put you in a trance, Watching her tripping to and fro— Two little feet as they come and go. We all sit silent on our seats As trippingly her fairy feet Glide along at the children’s ball. Scarcely touching the floor at all. It makes each boy wish he could be A ballet dancer same as she, With lemon frock and golden hair— A little figure beyond compare. - —lsa Robertson, in the Weekly Scotsman. ANIMALS’ ACES. The longevity of animals varies considerably. The rapid multiplication of rodent species is neutralised by its comparatively short career. Rarely*'do rats attain a greater age than five to six years. The average life of a hare is 10 years and the domestic cat 14. although it h lived for 23 years. The duration of horses, asses, and zebras ranges from 1 to 30 years, swine 20 years, and domestic cattle from 25 to 30. Higher in the scale come the lion, the tiger, and the bear, with an average life of 30 years. Gulls are recorded to have lived for over 40 years, and ducks and geese beyond the half-century mark. . It is the rule rather than the exception for the crow, the swan, and the eagl< to top three figures. Parrots frequently live over •- 80 years, and tortoises have been known to have existed for two centuries. There is a carp in the lakes at Versailles which was placed there by Marie Antoinette, who was guillotined in 1793. The longest-lived creature of all. however, is the whale. Unless it is harpooned, it usually lives at least bOO years.

THE DRESDEN SHEPHERDESS. A Dresden Shepherdess she is - Upon the plains of home, To tend the sheep her task, though ’tis But seldom e’er they roam. While with her flock one summer day There came a lad she knew. . She hailed him as he raised his horn, Approaching as he blew. “ Prithee, fair maid, wilt thou be mine?" He whispered in her ear: She answered. “.Yea-. I will be thine,” Though none but he could hear. That’s how the Dresden Shepherdess And sweet Boy Blue himself Love still .the more, but never less, L pon the mantelshelf. —Nellie \ Lawrence, in the Glasgow Weekly Herald.

COLOURS FROM FLOVJERS. “ I know what colour I want for a dress,” a woman may say, “ but I don’t know what colour goes with it.” Another problem that often reappears is. “ Can I wear this hat with this dress? ’ the colours blend? ” Or, still further, " I’m tired of these colour combinations. I want something new. What shall it be? ” The answer to all these problems is the same. Go to Mother Nature (says a Daily Telegraph writer). We never think of Nature as a dress designer. Yet in this sphere she is supreme. 1 n copying her you must take into consideration the amount of colour used, as well as the intensity. Nature is careful of her brilliant tones. Imagine a scarlet tree! Even the most brilliant autumn trees are " toned down ” by various shades in tin foliage. How many gowns you could have by following the autumn tints'. For evening wear there are oranges and yellows splashed with red. For street wear there are tans and browns, picked out with bits of yellow and orange. Take a single autumn leaf—that . will furnish you with a colour scheme for a gown.. Sunsets can provide inspirations for evening gowns. Wonderfully rich colours, overlapping, fading into one another—you can almost visualise them turned into georgette and silk ninon and touched up with a bit of silver from a near-bv cloud.

A spring crocus, yellow centred, witpetals of lavender and white and tii stem of green, may provide inspiration. Here is a combination we might not discover after working with bits of clot! for hours. Blue sky, green trees, brown earth arc the colours given by Nature when she uses her broadest brush-strokes. Closer study, however, will reveal a combination of colours in single objects that is at once subtle and lovely.. A tree may furnish an observant woman with the colour scheme for a room, a frock, or < hat, or for all three of them. VERY FEELING. Shrieks and yells of the most appalling kind were issuing from the little cottage, and before long quite a large* crowd had collected, attracted by the terrible noises. Presently, slowly hut inevitably, the majesty of the law, as represented by P.c. 666, put in an appearance. “Now then, what’s all this?” he asked brusquely. “-What’s it all about?” “ Please, sir,” said a small boy who was standing close by, " that’s only my brother. He’s crying because mother’s eyesight isn’t very good, and she’s deaf, too.” A ghastly series of shrieks interrupted the explanation. " He must be a very feeling little felremarked the officer. “Yes, sir; he is,” was the answer. “You see, mother’s mending his trousers, and he’s got them on.” LAVENDER PIN-MONEY. Although the lavender fields that once flourished in and around London have gone, a place can always be made in the suburban garden for a lavender patch (writes Josephine Vincent in the Dai Telegraph). Fragrant and good to look upon all the year through, for its grey-green foliage lasts through the winter and renews itself each spring, July and August (January and February in New Zealand) are the months for its harvesting. Then it is that the lavender grower who has taken care over her spring planting wil be rewarded. For lavender is always in demand. Those who tend large fields that will be misty blue with spikes under the summer sun, find the distillation of thq, essential oil a profitable business, as the perfumerj’ firms are buyers. But the smaller grower can earn her pin-money from the garden patch or hedge. Jhg spikes should be cut just before the flowers are quite fully out. and lai, in a shady spot to dry.- Never let them dry in the sun, lest some of the precious pei fume should be lost. When quite dry the flowers should be stripped In hand. Some should be put aside for pot-pourri. Lavender bags and dainty sachets can be made. Baskets and faggots may be contrived with raffia, braid, ribbon, and the unstripped stalks. Lavender vinegar is a delightful toilet pieparation infused from fresh-picked flowers soaked in white wine vinegar. NEIGHBOURS. Two neighbours stopped To have a chat—- ■ A speckled hen And a Maltese cat. ' She said, “ You are A funny thing, And really ought To grow a wing! ” She blinked and glinted Both her eyes. He purred and looked Extremely wise, Anu said, “Dear Fowl, Your silly tail Resembles most A crumpled sail.” To-day, a feather And some fur Attest to where Those neighbours were. —Sonia Ruthele Novak, in the Century.-

THE GREAT WASH. It is only in China that cats as well as houses are spring-cleaned. The older the cat the greater the veneration in which it is held. This is because it is regarded as the Guardian of the Outer Gate, where it is supposed to hold- at bay the demoniac influences which are always waiting to enter (says a writer in the London Evening News). The higher and more cultured class of Chinese wash their cats themselves, in order that it may be done with due ceremony and attention. Assembling at daybreak in the courtyard of their mansions, the heads of the family, often extremely wealthy and dignified people, collect their, cats.

With thick socks tied over their claws, the cats fight like the demons they are supposed to vanquish. But the Chinese impassively and good-naturedly performs his salubrious task, while the women stand around idle, offering advice or criticism.

Fire crackers are let off, and drums beaten continuously during the whole process. This is to prevent the evil spirits entering while the cats are otherwise engaged. It is a lengthy work. Each cat is washed in three or four separate tubs of steaming hot water with soft soap— -’ eyes, ears, and noses receiving the utmost and careful attention. The final tub is full of cold water as a preventive of .consumption. The shrieks of the victims as they are immersed in this one, combined with the fire crackers and drums, produce a veritable inferno of noise. Later on “ Honourable Moon Flower ’’ is dried with hot towels. Then she is allowed to take her ease on a silken cushion inside a wicker cage placed in the sunniest corner of the courtyard.

A HOUSE WITHOUT A CAT. A house without a cat Is most extremely flat, Like a friend without a chat, Or a door without a mat. Or a chop without its fat, Or a ball without a' bat. Or a whale without a sprat, Or a vault without a vat, Or. a girl without a hat, And even worse than that Is a house -without a cat. —Dorothy Dickinson, in the Windsor Magazine. A BUDDING AUTHOR. Little Leonard was inclined to laziness, and seldom did he put his playthings away before retiring for the night. His grandmother, who was staying the week-end, decided to correct the youiig man’s slackness.. So she began to tell him a story. “ Once upon a time there was a little boy who became very rich because he always put Ins toys away ‘‘‘Hight,” said Leonard, a modern child; “ I’ll tell you a story now, granny dear. < There was once a very, pretty little pussy-cat—and -it barked! ” AGAINST DEMOCRACY. Give me great thoughts, large wrestlings with the lords Of vision and of beauty, whence is won— As men from mountain tops observe the sun— Light, when the dusk-enfolded world no light affords! Let me spend great days on a mountainheight ' . . .\ Above the little passions and the strife That irk with ignobilities this life—■ For only single'eagles can be lost in light. These days there's too much boasting of the plain, Too many empty words of brotherhood. Too much acceptance of the multitude And not enough of clean aloofness and disdain! .• , ■ ■ —Harry in the Quill,

A DUNCE. Little Jimmy’s father found him in the barn. He was shaking his pet rabbit and saying: “ Five and five. How much is five and five? ” The surprised father finally interrupted the proceedings. “What is the meaning of all this, Jimmy? ” “ Oh,” said Jimmy, “ teacher told us that rabbits multiply rapidly, but this fellow can’t even add.” SHE SNAPPED. Together they had broken the wishbone, and she held the longer piece. “Now, what shall I wish for?” she mused. “Really, I can’t think.” “ Oh, wish for anything,” he suggested brilliantly. But still her brow wore a puC-kerea frown. “ Oh, well, if it’s as hard as all that I’ll wish for you,” he said obligingly. “ Oh, John,” she cried happily, “ you really wish for me, dear? Then you can have me! This is sudden! ” / MORE RUBBER ROADS. I understand that experiments in rubber paving for roads have been so successful in London that we may anticipate a great, increase in laying' of it new material in the near future (says a Daily Chronicle writer). London w : 1 soon be a- much quieter place if this actually comes to pass, for, the- experiments in Whitehall and New Bridge street, perhaps two of the heaviest roads for traffic in London, have proved that noise is reduced by no less than 30 per cent. With this and pedestrians wearing more and more rubber on their feet w e can look -forward to a really quiet time! NOTHING NEW. Sanders and his wife and family had arrived at the seaside without fixing up their accommodation first. So, of course, they had to start looking for rooms immediately. Fortunately they soon found a house displaying the usual window card, and Sanders walked straight in. He explained things to the landlady, who listened politely to all he had to say and then remarked: But you understand there’s only one room to let, and ” —eyeing the family—- “ and there’s only one bed in it. too.” « “T hat ' s Quite all right,” said Sanders; we ie used to roughing it. The wife and kids 11 sleep on the floor.” PERFECTLY HONEST. A taxicab driver applied to a garage in answer tq an advertisement in the paper for a reliable driver. Everything seemed to be satisfactory with the applicant. He had never been summoned and had never had an accident Are you honest? ” he was asked. ' Oh,. yes, quite.” “Well, suppose you found a pocket O " tailliug negotiable bonds worth fio? 111 J ' our taxi, what would ymu ’ “Do?” echoed the applicant. “Nothing, of course. I’d live on ihe income.” A STRANGE CHOICE. “Please mark off the dishes ymu wish: to order, madam,” said a {waiter to a stylishly .dressed lady whd entered a. fashionabje restaurant the : other day. The bill-of-farc was written* in and lather than confess her ignorance' of the language she made a. few dashes ■ on it with her pencil. The order read: “ Dinner. 25.” “Anril d«k.-“" Plen “ Mr tactful waiter bowed politely and brought the embarrassed lady a " beefsteak!—Morning Post.