Editor's Wallet

Otago Witness, Issue 3886, 4 September 1928, Page 83

Editor's Wallet

NOT SO INNOCENT. It was the first time she had been to dinner with them, and they smiled indulas she refl 's<?d a whisky and soda 1 ye never touched it in my life ” she explained. “ Why not try? ” urged' her host. “ See if you like the taste.” She blushed and shyly consented, and •e poured her out a mixture, which she raised to her lips. .. K^’e ” you've given me Irish! TEA DRINKERS, BEWARE! Dr Vernon Davies, politician and Jhysician, stated in the House of CoinMions the other day that far too much tea is drunk in England. He said that he knew houses where tea was drunk three or four times a day. 1 smiled when I read this (says a writer in a Home paper). I know of houses where tea is drunk at least six times a day, and often more. Mhat would the learned doctor say to this? Yet the drinkers are still alive. Dr Davies recommends cocoa or milk. Cocoa when vour soul is pining for a cup of tea! Oh. sacrilege! And surely 1 have heard or read that milk is not at all a beneficial drink for adults. Nothing is left to us but water. 8o far we have not been told that that is harmful, but sooner or later some prophet will probably appear who will tell us that water contains microbes and will surely be our undoing. The longer 1 live the more 1 believe in the words of a song that poor clever Marie Lloyd used to sing. “A little of what you fancy does you good.” A cup of tea is the solace and comfort of millions of women—and men. too. They may like it freshly made, they may like it strong, they may even like it well stewed, in jW'despite of Dr Davies. Ami why shouldn't have it? J have never heard that sea-drinkers’ lives were cut short in their prime more than the lives of other people. Leave us our tea! WISDOMETTES. Money would go farther if only it went a little slower. e' * t Neptune's coat of arms must surely be the crest of a wave, His clothes may make a man. but his wife's may break him. Two sometimes cease to be company after they are made one. * * * You can't always get a man's measure by calling on his tailor. A legal light naturally feels put out when the judge turns him down. * -KThe man with a poor memory for debts has an excellent one for faces. «• » * Ants are the most successful of all insects. They usually have a bank of their own.

FAMOUS LONDON CHURCH. Buried away in the heart of the city, and surrounded by theatres stands Crown Court Scottish Church, which means so much to those who have come from beyond the Cheviots to make their home in London. It resembles Westminster Abbey in that its congregation is drawn from all parts of this great metropolis. It is nothing unusual for members to come 10 or 12 miles. No more inspiring sight can be seen than that on a Communion Sunday, and the singing of the old psalms and paraphrases is enough—yea. more than enough—to stir the blood of the most luke-warm Scot. Year by year greater numbers of young men and women are coming south, and if only ministers in Scotland would see that they are introduced to a place of worship such as this infinite good would result. To the stranger within its gates no city can compare for utter loneliness with London. To have a friendly voice to greet you and to make you feel at home is worth untold riches. In London to-day the demand is greater than it, has ever been for young Scottish men arid women of education and character. Id the civil service, in the teach<rofession, in every branch of industry commerce they come Hocking down are quickly absorbed. To all who think of coming it would be the first step to success to associate themselves with some church which is allied with the national lion. It would save them from days and weeks of sheer loneliness, and in many cases would be the means of saving them from making shipwreck of their chances. —London Scot. A NEW TRICK. Fashions in speech always interest me. Have you noticed the way in which young girls are saying “Yes”? They pronounce it “yairs.” and pitch it on a high note (asks a Daily Chronicle writer). Do fashionable boarding schools teach these things, 1 wonder, or does someone high up in society start them, possibly uy accident, and so set the fashion? Who first began to drop “ g's,” for instance, and who a few years ago launched' the trick of saying “vehy” for “very”? ‘ Yairss” is now quite the mark of the " bright young thing.” 2 PUZZLERS. Where can a man buy a cap for his knee, Or a key for a lock of his hair? eyes be called an academy Because there are pupils there? In the crown of his head what gems are set? Who travels the bridge of his nose? Can he use, when shingling the roof of Ins mouth. The nails on the ends of his toes? What does he raise from a slip of his tongue ? Who beats on the drum of his ears? nr yj lo can t . ell the cut an<l vt the coat his stomach wears?.•Can the crook of his elbows be sent to gaol? -rr An j if so > wllat i<; do? .Mow does he sharpen his shoulder-blades? I n be hanged if I know—do you?

THE UNKNOWN REPORTER. Jhn Keene was a reporter on the Trib, Who didn't get a by-line once a year, But there never passed a day when he didn't peg away At some lines which brought some other fellow ehe.r. He wrote the piece that built a home for orphans. He helped to win the teachers better pay. And. though nobody knew, he was just the fellow who Got the facts which brought the gunman's gang to bay. Wherever there was pestilence or strife Jim went beside the doctor or the cop. He wasn't any beauty and he never bragged of duty. But there couldn't any danger make him stop. He wrote the stuff that brought the milk for babies. He wrote the truth which brought a despot down— Though another got the credit it was Jim first sensed and said it. And then proved it. and set free the whole blamed town. So when people talk about the L'nkuown Soldier And proudly pay deserved respect to him. 'I hough J hear the rat-tat-tat of machine guns and all that, Something somehow always makes me think of Jim With his rat-tat-tat-tat-tatty old typewriter. Fighting battles for mankind each day and all — Yes, by golly! While there’s Jim and ten thousand more like him. This old world is pretty safe, though heavens fall! —Lee Shippey, in the Los Angeles Times. “ THIRD ” SLEEPERS. Six shillings seems a very reasonable charge for third class “'sleepers,” which are to be at the disposal of passengers to the north in the autumn (says a Daily Chronicle writer). In Germany, before the war. the charge for second class berths was 8s (second class on the Continent corresponds to the third class in England). So, with everything dearer, the British price may be reckoned cheap. No doubt the accommodation will be as good. In Russia I have slept on a bare board let down over the seats. Others had brought their own bedding. I hadn't any. NOT TO BE SEEN. Toot! Toot! Toot! Tiie fair motorist swung her powerful car into the village street, missed a lamppost by inches, then swerved on to the pavement, and made the oldest inhabitant jump higher than he had done since he left school. Risking life for duty, the local constable stepped in frontof her and held up both his arms. With a screeching oi brakes the ear came to a sudden stop. " What is the matter? ” asked the young lady. “Matter?" The constable was red with anger. "You've been exceeding the speed limit, and I’m going to pinch you.” "Are you really? ” she said, smiling sweetly. “Mell, please do it where it won't show.” SPANISH HOSPITALITY. Spain can be reached easily by the sea route from Liverpool to Santander. Corunna, or Vigo, thus avoiding the fatiguing railway journey via' Paris. For meals, it is usual for trains to stop about half an hour at some station where there is a restaurant, to which whole crowds rush and gobble as much . food as they can in the time allowed. The majority of Spanish towns boast at least one good hotel affording clean and comfortable beds, whilst the sanitary arrangements are fairly good. As a rule , it is not necessary to book rooms before- I hand. It is well not to accept the first offer of the hotelkeeper, since he always seems to act on the presumption that one requires the best and most expensive room in the hotel. The Manchester Guardian warns us that in some towns it is the custom to lock up the hotels at about 11 p.m. After that hour you must clap your hands loudly in the street and you will soon be let in by a gentleman known as the “ sereno,” who will expect a tip of a few pence. If it is necessary to rise early it is as well to have an arrangement i made with the “sereno.” who has free entrance to all the hotels and will willingly knock one up if one gives him the number of the room and, of course, a tip for his trouble.

MOTHER’S LOVE. Girls and boys, do not be careless towards your mother. Remember that it is you who bring the outside world to her. when she has to remain at home and spend hci' days in housework and cooking that make you so . comfy when you go home at night from your daily jobs. Tell her about what you have been doing, ask her advice, give her bits of news that will amuse and interest her. Tell her the story of that picture you went to see. bring home odd bits of fun and little details about the people you see and meet at your dances. All these are trifles, but they keep her interest. alive in the world outside of the four walls of home where she proves her love for you all.—Glasgow Weekly Herald.

FAVOURITE AUTHORS. The result of the voting in a £250 competition shows that Scott still maintains his place as the most popular classic writer after Charles Dickens, and that among women writers George Eliot holds first place. Competitors were asked to select 12 of 20 famous classic writers, and place them in their order of popularity. I The complete result was as follows: — I 1. Dickens 7. Hugo 1 2. Scott 8. Kingsley 3. Stevenson 9. Jane Austen 4. Dumas 10. Bronte I 5- Thackeray 11. Airs H. Wood I 0. George Eliot 12. C. Reade. VICTORY, : A million crosses stood on ;• hill. A deadly wood against the sky; | An open grave a wound to kill A million lads that would be still- - A million lovely lads that lie Where they can never die. -Mid who are you and who am I—--1 that we should walk about at will. And a million other lads should lie I infer a hill beneath the sky? Kathleen Millay, in Contemporary Verse. EXPERIENCE COUNTS. 1 he young doctor had temporarily taken the place of a medical man who was away on holidays. One day the new man went to see a very old patient, who immediately began to talk about the various ailments from which he suffered. “And worst of all, doctor, I’m afraid my heart’s going back on me,” the old man concluded. "Oh. no” said the doctor, “it's not quite so bad as that, I'm sure.” i The sufferer frowned angrily. “Excuse me, sir,” he said, “ but it’s not for a . young man like you to contradict an experienced invalid like me.” KNICHTS OF THE GARTER. The Order of the Garter, to which three new knights—the Earl of Athlone, the Duke of Abercorn, and. Lord Desborougli—have just been appointed, is perhaps the highest honour that the King can bestow on any of his subjects. Its only possible rival is the Order' of Merit. At one time no comparison between these two Orders would have been possl ls -i’ lst about, a century since .British statesman declared that the thing he liked in the Garter was that there was “no nonsense about merit ” connected with it. To-dav, however, it is regarded, not as the preserve of high rank, but as a reward for distinguished service tat le State. The Order is now nearly <>(o years old—it dates back to 1348. when King Edward 111 was King. It was originally a purely military Order. Among its members at present are the II nice of M.iles, the Earl of Balfour \ iscount Grey, and Sir Austen Chamberlain. THE DEMON OF UNREST. An old custom and institution is in flanger of dying out because domestic servants do - not stay in their places as they used to do. So long ago as 1620 a parishioner of Holborn, Isaac Duckett, left money to form a fund wherewith to provide annual gifts to domestic servants, for long service in one place. And this year housekeepers had to be allowed to enter as applicants tor the awards, as so few servants were eligible. And only 14 awards were made. It is one of the signs of the times. Why domestic servants stay such short periods in one place 1 never can understand (says a writer in an exchange). If they like their mistress . enough to stay one vear I can't think why they want to leave at all. Every change costs them monev, and the mistress who finds servants to suit her is invariably only too willing to raise their wages every year. Yet the demon of unrest has them firmly in his clutches. Jhe only reason for change that I can understand is sheer boredom and a desiie for new surroundings at any price. Like the celebrated butler of the old story—forgive me if it is a chestnut—who after -0 years service gave notice to leave. Ills horrified mistress asked him for his reason, and at first he would give none. But at last he said, “Well, ma’am, if you must know, I'm sick of the sight of you and oi the master, - and have been for wine years.” It was rather a facer wasn't it?

TO SCARE HIM. Tommy: “Mamma, didn’t von say last week you wanted the carving knife and the chopper sharpened? ” Mrs Brown: “Indeed, I did. Bless his little heart! How thoughtful you are! ” I'll take ’em round to tiie cutler s for you.” “How sweet of you to offer to do such things for your mamma, dear. I’ll wrap them up.” “ No. don’t wrap them up. I want them to show. There’s a boy out there waiting to fight me; but I . fancy when he sees me coming he’ll go home.” THE PEPPER CLUB. The director of a Viennese newspaper recently published a paragraph to the effect that his cook had bought half a pound of pepper at a grocer’s, and, when analysed, the pepper was found to contain 50 per cent. dust. The director added that if the guilty grocer did not send him immediately half a pound of pure pepper he would publish Ins name in the paper. the next day 33 grocers brought the specified amount of pure pepper to the newspaper office.

“ LITTLE ONE.” Little one, with toys surrounded, „ Playing on the nursery floor. T utiire seas unguessed, unsounded. Lite a blank and bojted door. What will those blue eyes discover. M ho those golden curls ensnare? Mho will be your heart's true lover? Mho will steal you unaware? Little one. the stars are peeping, And the sun has gone to rest; Every baby bird, is sleeping In its leaf-enfoided nest: In the starlight's placid keeping. Nought shall bring you scathe or woe, Since life s harvest, for your reaping. Springs from seeds the angels sow. - A. B. in Answers. HER LUCKY NUMBER. 'I he policeman on point duty was having an unusually exciting morning. For some reason the traffic would persist in mistaking his signals, and lively muddles ensued. Suddenly an old lady beckoned him. Hie poijeemau thought she wanted to cross the road urgently, and he obligingly held up a batch of buses and cars. The dear old soul, one hand clutching her trailing skirt, hurried up to him. and he bent his head to catch her remark. “ Do you know, officer.” she whispered confidingly. “ the number on your collar is my lucky number! ” ' TWO GRANDMOTHERS! In the old oak room two pictures hung— Grandmamma, old and wrinkled and grey. And a beautiful damsel, gay and young—Grandmamma at an earlier day.— And in the twilight maid and daine Each stepped down from her golden frame. S* r ls of to-day are a shame to see, M ith their shameless frocks and their close-cropped hair,” Said the high old dame. “ It's a puzzle to me How the men can stand them at all—but there! M hen I was a girl men looked to find Behaviour of quite a different kind! ” But pretty young grandmother laughed and said: ” I was ‘demure’ enough. I suppose; But I owned a heart as well as a head, And I was a sad minx under the rose. And yet. do you know. I wouldn't have missed One of the times I’ve been seeretlv kissed! I he girls of to-day are franker far 1 han ever were we—but that's no sin. And the grannies are not so particular; But there's always a gap you can't fill in.” She nodded at dear old granny. "She Has lived so long she’s forgotten me! ” —C. E. 8., in Home Chat. FERRY TO FORTUNE. Can you imagine a man who began his career at 16 with a small sailing boat, bought tor £2O with money his mother took from her hoard in the clock, being worth more than £20,000.000 when he I died? Such was the extraordinary story of Cornelius Vanderbilt, who died just over 50 years ago. He started taking passengers to and from Staten Island and New \ ork and ended by being the dominating figure in American railways. By the time he was 16 “ Corneel,” as he was called, was far too go-ahead to be satisfied with his father s ideas. Before giving him the £2O for his boat, his father and mother made a bargain that he should plough and set an eight-acre field before his birthday. Corneel rounded up all his friends, and with offers of free sails in his craft got them to work clearing the field. He finished the job the day before his birthday. Next morning he was at the ferry ready for passengers. A year later he paid back his mother’s £2O and gave his father lOOOdol. At 23 he had three vessels and about £!S00 in cash. He scrapped his sails and took to modern steam sailing. At 70 Vanderbilt made another change. He sold his steamships and went into railways.

READING DOWN AND ACROSS. The office staff were startled to see the head clerk enter the room wearing hornrimmed spectacles. Hitherto his eyesight had always been perfect, and. naturally, there were many comments passed about the sudden development. At last the men who had been in the office even longer than the chief clerk himself ventured to ask the reason for the glasses. “ Well,” returned the chief clerk, “if you must know the cause of the trouble before you'll do any work J'll tell you. I ve done so many crossword puzzles that one eye began to see vertical and'the other horizontal.” A SONC OF EARTH. Earth bears our insults lightly, So anciently at ease bricks must look contritely Upon young poplar trees; And spade arid plough go gently About Rome’s foot, where grass Smiles never so intently As when brick-masons pass. And yet the briefest shadow Of cloud she feels, to thrill M ith laughter in the meadow And fear behind the hill. , —William Foster Elliot, in the Wanderer.