Editor's Walles

Otago Witness, Issue 3882, 7 August 1928, Page 83

Editor's Walles

THE SHORTEST SPEECH IN I HISTORY. I Serious though President Coolidge is in general, his sense of humour frequently asserts itself publicly to the delight of all who witness it in play. Mr Willis Fletcher Johnson tells an amusing instance of Mr Coolidge's wit in his Life of Warren G. Harding. Once in the course of a legislative debate a certain member who was noted for his long-winded speeches addressed the House for an hour in support of a measure, during which he used a succession o affirmations always beginning with “It is— ”

When Mr Coolidge rose to speak on the ■question he said, “ Mr Speaker, it isn’t,” and sat down. —Youth’s Companion. THEN AND NOW! In blissful days ere they were wed By rural ways they oft went roaming, And she would rest her pretty head Upon his shoulder in the gloaming. They sat with fingers intertwined Sweet hours of billing and of cooing— While softer than the summer wind He murmured honey words of wooing They were transported, he and she, To that sweet realm of bliss they shared, And what the hour might chance to In They neither knew nor cared. But now they very seldom walk (I saw their newest car arriving). And he declares he cannot talk When he is occupied in driving. She, hating to be late for meals, Reminds him when to be returning. Yet, once at home, he sometimes feels For bygone days a certain yearning. But when he touches half in fear, The tender chords that throbbed of r She says: “ Don’t talk so much, my dear, Your dinner’s getting cold! ” —C. E. 8., in Home Chat. GOOD-NIGHT, DEAR FRIEND. Good night, dear friend! Because you’ve walked beside me This day has been a cycle of good cheer. To -morrow loneliness may over-ride me. But I will feel your friendly presence near. Good night, dear friend! Because we’ve walked together, I’ll go with lighter heart to-morrow’s ways, And feel the tightening of friendship’s tether, ~ num Binding two lives through our divided days.

Good night, dear friend, and may sweet dreams attend you. The lucky stars of heaven falling bright Across your pathway, keep you and defend you! To-morrow and to-morrow. So good night! —Anne Campbell, in Women’s Weekly. MORE LITTLE BRITONS. A rise in the birth-rate has left the statisticians gasping. When I saw the heading “ More Babies ” in an evening journal I thought at first that it referred to the forthcoming output of a new type of seven horse-power motor car. But "no, these babies were the genuine article, ready doubtless shortly to lisp the motor company’s slogan, " British and Proud o It” (says a writer in the Morning Post). It is curious that at the very moment when this increase was taking place a well-known ecclesiastical journalist should have been fulminating against those who preferred motor cars to children. A BAD GUESS. The theatrical manager was busy at his desk when there came a quiet knock at the office door. “ Come in,” shouted the manager. The door opened, and on the threshold stood an elderly dame with a George Robey nose and a Nellie Wallace hat. The manager’s eyes gleamed. Perhaps this was the low comedienne he had been searching for. “ Well, madam,” he said, brusquely, “what do you do? Sing? Dance? Recite? Come, please; my time is valuable; sing first.” The old lady cleared her throat and ventured a few bars of “ It Ain’t Gonna Rain No the manager stopped her a wave of his hand. You’re no good. You can’t sing a bit.” W.\o. sir, that’s true,” agreed the old lady. “And now, sir, can I get on with the sweeping—l’m the new charlady? ”

THE BARBER’S LAMENT. Do you know that barbers’ watches are short-lived? asks a Daily News writer. “ It’s the little short bits of hair that cause all the trouble,” my own hairdresser confided to me as I sat in his chair. “ They will penetrate any watch in the world, I believe. The last time I sent mine to be repaired scores oi little bits of hair were found to have <elogged tiie mechanism. “Now I leave my watch at home! ” WISDOMETTES. Many young men have an entirely false idea about marriage. Some of them even expect to have their own way afterwards. * * * A man may never realise what it is to be disappointed in love until after he has been led to the altar by the ladj of his choice. * * * Before marriage, says a married woman, a man declares that he would lay down his life to serve you. After marriage he won’t even lay down his newspaper to talk to you. WANTED A MENTOR. “If you have only worked in simple families you wouldn’t do for the highclass requirements of my establishment! ” “ But you could tell me what to do, madam! ” “ No, I want somebody who .is able to tell me that! ”

THE PARIS SHOP FRONT. Simplicity is the keynote of the Paris shop window, but it is a simplicity which is rather deceptive (says the Manchester Guardian). The angular convention holds its own. and at this season of the year the windows are full of materials arranged in huge triangles, which are so placed that they cut across each other and give the ideal Cubist design. Tablecloths with coloured borders and napkins to match give plenty of opportunities for the triangular convention. The big cloth is arranged in a triangle to show the horde, to advantage, and the napkins, also folded in triangles, are placed to pierce the parent cloth as though they were darts.

Much play is made with colouring, and especially with all the greys, neutral tints, and beiges. There are fat grey lampbowls upon which is set a concertina shade almost blotting out the shoulders of the bowl and contrasting the radiating line with the circle.

This is only one example of the geometrical method. Laces are displayed in the windows in long strands, arranged like the tail of a comet. At a distance they produce a 'wonderfully deceptive appearance. Ribbons are made to look like the rays radiating from a street lamp on a dark night. Geometrical human figures in dead white or silver are set against a black velvet background, and white stuffs are draped around them to look as far as possible like stone, and stone of a very severe design. This is the day of making something look like something else in order, not to deceive, but to surprise. THE RECAL EAGLE. Mr Langford Reed’s “ Sausages and Sundials” holds some funny verse. Here' are some ballads of the Zoo:— / It cannot be said that the vulture I Is a bird of refinement or culture; « He grossly bemoans He can’t pick your bones, And that’s why he stares, to insult yer! Nor am I appreciably fonder Of his cousin the carrion condor; If I lived near the lair Of a condor. I swear At night time abroad I’d not wander. And then, with respect to the eagle, Although his deportment is regal, That is merely his bluff, He is awfully rough. And not half such a gent as the seagull.

The nicest of all is the kinkajou. So friendly he’ll sit up and wink at you, As the one I saw did; Him compare with the squid. If you meet one, beware —he’ll squirt ink at you! * * #

Do tortoises make good husbands? Mr Reed says:— I love to watch the tortoises. On summer evening, courting; They’re so well bred and dignified— Despising amorous sporting.

Their bosoms ne’er seem occupied With such fires as transport us, In fact, the Peace of Perfect Love Is by the tortoise taught us! THE SAMSON SISTERS. When the bobbed hair fashion first arrived a number of employers threatened to dismiss any girls who adopted the new “ fad,” but most of them ignored the warning. Some went so far as to have their hair cut in defiance. Two Japanese girls, the Sisters Fujima, were not among the rebels. Indeed, throughout, the reign of bob and shingle they have refused to cut their tresses, since their livelihood depends on theii “crowning glory.” Now that long ha; appears likely to come into its own. t will be in the fashion again. One of the tricks of the sisters is t< suspend themselves by their hair and balance a table between them, supporting it with their legs and eating a meal whilst hanging in mid-air. The black hair of the Japanese has remarkable strength, but one of the girls points out that others could perform the trick if they started training the hair early enounh in life. It would not be advisable for anyone to attempt such a feat at the outset, but with a systematic course of training the- hair would gradually gain such strength that it might become the strongest part of the b 0... “ HOW ARE YOU?” “ How are you ? ” is a very common question. These are some very likely replies:— “ Corking.” said the bottle. “ Rotten,” said the apple. “ Fine.” said the magistrate. “Grand.” said the piano. “Keen.” said the knife. “Ripping.” said the scissors. “ Well.” said the water. “All done up,” said the dress. ENGAGEMENT RINGS. Fashions in engagement rings change slowly, and diamonds, which have had a long run, still remain the popular stone with most girls (says the London Star). All the jewellers have been able to do to supply a little originality is to vary the settings a little. / A popular method at the moment is to stick the jewel rather deeply into a square setting. Some girls are choosing rings now which have a double band of gold or platinum.

THE STEPMOTHER'S DUTIES. Much has been said and written on this subject, and in our novels we read that the new wife brings discord into the home. There are, unfortunately, some cases where such a state of things existsthe step-mother, although she has some affection for the man. cannot take hitcher heart, his little children, because “ they are not hers.” My ideal step-mother is altogether different. She may not be beautiful 01 fashionably thin, but she has what may be termed a comfortable figure ami happy, sunny nature. She loves her husband, and. first, for his sake, then fir their own, takes his motherless little ones to her heart.

She does not try to buy their affection with costly gifts, but just “ bider her time,” and, as their shyness wears off, they come to her, one by one, with their various little woes—a broken toy, a scratched arm, “ done by pussy,” and so on.

She lets them play without interfering, though she keeps a watchful eye on them, checking any little signs of temper or selfishness. And in a little while they all settle down happily and peacefully.

She takes an interest, in the lessons of the elder children, and the tiny tots can be seen, any fine day, trotting happily at her side in lane or field. She has no “ best room ” filled with fragile frivolities and delicate ornaments that “ break if you look at them.” Her house is “ home ” in every sense of the word, and in it the children can romp to their hearts’ content in wet weather without fear of accidents and scoldings. As the boys grow up she hands them over to their father with: “This is your job now; they need a man’s hand. I will look after the girls.” When other little ones appear on the scene, there is no difference made in the love and care of the elder ones. They are all one happy circle. And this is how the true, womanly step-mother can help to make the world a cleaner, happier place.—An exchange.

JAZZ, PRESENT AND FUTURE. The probable future of jazz as “ serious ” music and the problems that it even now presents are thus set forth by George Antheil, the jazziest of modern composers, in the Forum Magazine: “A real reception of jazz can only be paved with an understanding of the elements and difficulties to be encountered. If jazz is sophisticated and difficult to redistribute, ours is also a sophisticated and modern age, and our artists will throughout the centuries rise to comprehend the situation. Jazz belongs to America, and if it is abandoned everywhere else on earth, still America cannot abandon it. She should not want to. Jazz is her way out of the future. But until jazz finds its way a little more clearly, let us not take it into the concert hall.

“A fair understanding of the situation will give sincere and daring effort a chance. But the patronising by business men of cabaret music as though it were a symphonic concert cannot help but make one suspect that, inasmuch as they must patronise native effort, they are trying to make as bright a job of it as possible. “ The term ‘ tired business man ’ seems even to apply to our musicians, who are glad even temporarily to run away from their daily grinding out of respectable music, whether it be from the conductor’s desk or the music teacher’s studio.”

MY BABY’S HANDS. I sometimes think my baby’s hands Are like the petals of a rose, As velvet soft and sweetly pink It gently in the garden blows.

And yet again it seems to me They must be butterflies at play, As restlessly, and never still, They flutter all the livelong day. And then I think, when she’s asleep, They’re like twin snowflakes come to rest, As lightly, softly floating down They gently lie upon her breast. But whether’ lying soft and still, Or like pink butterflies they dart, Those tiny hands remorseless stay For ever plucking at my heart! —Dorothy Dane, in the Windsor Magazine. THEN HE COLLAPSED. Jones was never averse to taking a day off from the office, and one day he sent a note along to his employer to say that he was very ill and that it would be quite impossible for him to turn up at the office that day. “ I thought you were ill yesterday, Mr Smith,” said the boss when Jones arrived next morning. “Yes, sir,.” “ You didn’t look very ill when I saw you at the raecs in the afternoon,” remarked the shrewd business man. “ Didn’t I, sir?” inquired Jones, not the least disconcerted. “ You should have seen me at the finish of the three-thirty.” GIFT FLOWERS. A West End florist has designed some charming little pots of flowers for baby on her first birthday (says the London Star).. They are sold in pairs, each little pot being shaped like a shoe. A pair of real bootees are attached, one to each pot. Baby is likely to appreciate her first gift, and mother is likely to enjoy flowers sent in so novel a way.

THE STANDARDISED HEROINE. The heroine in modern fiction is as standardised as a Ford car, according to Stephen Leacock, writing in the July number of the Forum Magazine. Sh< must appeal to all tastes in femininity. The result is that she is almost everything, and very frequently as a resul. she is pretty nearly nothing. Here is his idea of about what tin modern novelist writes:

“ Margaret Overproof was neither short nor tall. Her perfect figure, slender an at the same time fat, conveyed at times an impression of commanding height, while at other times she looked sawedoff. Her complexion, which was of the tint of a beautiful dull marble—like the surface of a second-hand billiard ball — was shot at times with streaks of red and purple which almost suggested apoplexy. Her nose, which was clearcut and aquiline, was at the same time daintily turned up at the end and then moved off sideways. A critic might have considered her mouth a trifle too wide and her lips a trifle too full, but on the other hand a horse buyer would have con sidered them all right. Her eyes were deep and mournful and lit with continuous merriment. Her graceful neck sloped away in all directions till it reached her bust, which stopped it,” ON THE OFFCHANCE. Strolling dejectedly up and down the lane, a small boy was crying as if his heart would break. Presently a kindly old gentleman appeared in sight. “ What’s the trouble, sonnie? ” he asked. “ Mother and father won’t take me to the pictures,” replied the small boy between his sobs. “ Do they take you if you make that row? ” inquired the kindly old man, wi. a smile. “ Sometimes they do, an’ sometimes they don’t,was the weary answer. “ But it ain’t no trouble to veil, anyway.”

RUMOUR. Somebody is whispering on the stair. What are those words half spoken, half drawn back? What are those muffled words, some red. some black? Who is whispering? Who is there? Somebody is sneaking up the stair, With feet, aproaching every doorway Yet never a moment standing anywhere. Now they are whispering close outside some door. 0 suddenly- push it open wide— Ton see: whoever said he heard them, he has lied. And yet words are left dark like heavydust In many rooms, or red like rust; And who contrives to leave them? Someone must. In every street, this noisy town of ours Has stealthy whispering watchers walking round Recording all our movements, every sound, Hissing and shuffling, and they mayhave found To-day my name: tomorrow they'll 1 yours. —Harold Monro, in the Spectator. NO DIETING THEN. A correspondent of the Daily Chronicle suggests a reason for the revived popularity of Emma Jane Worboise. Her heroines are so thrilling to the modern girl. An Emma Jane young lady, after an early breakfast, carries on at 10.30 a.m. with “ plum cake and almond cake, a basket of ripe strawberries, with plenty of fine rich cream; cowslip wine and curds and whey ad lib.” After that she turns up with a good appetite to luncheon at 2. She feasts in the evening two hours after dinner on “ a little pile of delicious sandwiches, a good raised pie, and a substantial plum cake; also there was a loaf and butter, and a pot of apricot jam, hot coffee and cream.” It is thrilling to girls who may not eat, but one is not surprised to hear a friend remarking “You look pale, child. Does she take proper exercise? ”

PUT HIS FOOT DOWN. He stood on the bridge at midnight, ’Twas a thoughtless thing to do.

The magistrate on the morrow. Said, “For all this hullabaloo, You’ll pay two quid on the nail, lad, Or else a month you will do.” You think that for such an action, The punishment’s stiff. I suppose; But. reader, the bridge he stood on Was the bridge of his neighbour’s. nose. V/ISDOMETTES. It's better to have good looks that wear off than those that wash off. * * ■* A man seldom discovers the dangerous microbe in kisses until about a year after marriage. . * * * After a girl has had 25 birthday anniversaries, she feels that she has had about all she needs in that line.

On the day of his wedding a man imagines that his wife drew a prize; but as a matter of fact he is seldom anything more than a consolation prize.

VALUABLE AUTOGRAPHS. Autograph letters of modern authors are even more valuable than first editions. If you are lucky enough to number an author amongst your friends, his letters should, in Stock Exchange parlance, be held until they appreciate. The other day a three-page letter of Thomas Hardy’s realised £4l and a •shorter one £25. A series of epistles from Conrad to his publisher brought the fortunate possessor more than £3OO-. DOUBTLESS. A teacher in a certain school had been giving the children a graphic account of the reindeer, its haunts, habits, and uses. She noticed that one boy was not paying the slightest attention, so she asked him a question. “ What is the use of the reindeer ? ”

The startled lad looked up quickly, and, after a glance round the room, answered brightly: “ It makes everything in the garden lovely, miss.” TO BE OR NOT TO BE? I had great sympathy with the bride who at the very altar, instead of the expected “ I will ” to the question “ Wilt thou take this man?” etc., answered “I shan’t ! ” (says an overseas correspondent). And I was pleased to see that the marriage duly took place a few days later, though one can't help thinking that she had a very forgiving bridegroom. It is not many men who would pardon being made to look ridiculous on his wedding day. He must be a man in a thousand, and she should have been thankful to marry him. How many brides—and how many bridegrooms, too —experience a moment of sheer panic at the altar when those fateful words are said? There is something so terribly irrevocable about them—something that sends the dreadful thought through one’s mind, “ Now do I really want this? ” It is human nature to dread the really irrevocable. But few girls and fewer men would have the courage, at the very last moment, to do such an unusual thing as to say " I shan’t ” instead of “ I will.” Public opinion is a terrible bogey to face, and there are generally mother and father at home, who will certainly require to know the whys and wherefores of such an action, though the girl of to-day is sometimes quite capable of keeping her own counsel. One girl of my acquaintance has just broken her engagement, and declined to give any reason whatever to her puzzled parents. She says quite plainly that it is her affair, and hers only, and that no one else has anything to say. Miss 1928!

UNUSUAL. Several commercial travellers were in a train on a journey to the north, and an Englishman told the story of a Scotsman who went to his dentist with an aching tooth, and was asked if he would have gas. He replied that he would, but should like to count his money first. Everybody laughed except a little man in a corner of the compartment. One of the company attempted to explain the joke, but the little man remained impassive. Others trie'd, but he said, “ I do not understand.” Finally he stopped the explanations. “ Gentlemen,” he said, “ you do not understand what I do not understand.” His listeners gave rapt attention. “ What I do not understand,” he went on, “is not why the Scotsman said what he did, but how any Scotsman should not know at any time, without having to couut it, how much money he had in his pockets! ” PREFERENCES. Let someone else sing the Romance of Industry! For I have worked in factories, And I have felt the dead and silent

empty darkness of winter mornings on my eyes, and the snows underfoot; And I have known of breathless summer nights, too tired to think, too hot to sleep; And the slush and mist, grey clouds, fog, and ruthless sun coming and going six days a week all the year. Let others chant the Nobility of Labour! For I have attained to it, and it is not worth the price— In blistered hands and aching eyes and wearied brain; In vexation that could curse God, and

impotence that could bite its veins

and howl. I had rather tramp all day toward nowhere, "With rain for a companion, pattering by my side and whispering old fragments of broken smoke-dimmed tales into my ears; And the wind for a dog, to pry into every thicket, spy on all wild things, And scamper across the shoulders of the hills. And bay at every tree. • —Robert 0. Fink, in Poetry.

THE LAZY ENGLISH. A lazy people in their pronunciation, the English have thus retarded the spread of their language over the whole world. They do not take the trouble to speak clearly; they mumble so that no foreigner can readily understand them. Many words to-day lack a standard pronunciation, as various people of competent education give them with different sounds. If there are any rules about English usage, they are commonly ignored, though it is safe to conclude that the way which gives the least trouble to speakers will be adopted by a majority of them. Yielding to this lazirtVss, the English have mixed up many words. Thus “ strait ” and “ straight ” have been often spelt in the same way and are now widely confused. —Vernon Rendall, in the English Review. WHY WE ARE AFRAID. Fear of thunderstorms, according to a well-known specialist, generally begins in childhood, and may be started by a nervous mother or nurse (says an exchange) . Such a fear is seldom natural to the normal child, and if in infancy a child' is taught to accept a sudden storm as a natural and usually harmless phenomenon, like rain, wind, and sunshine, fear is never likely to develop.