THE LETTERS OF LUCIA TO A LONELY SOLDIER.

Sun (Christchurch), Volume III, Issue 866, 18 November 1916, Page 6

THE LETTERS OF LUCIA TO A LONELY SOLDIER.

rWritten for THE SUN for the benefit of any soldier feeling lonely while on active service.] By tlio Avon, November 17. Dear Lonely Soldier, — Christchurch lias gone so profoundly to sleep since the races that there is not so much as a Pleasure and Profit Party looming on the horizon. You know the dead calm that always follows the storm of carnival. Visitors depart in all directions, anil the air of stir ami animation vanishes as magically as it came. J don 't know if it has ever occurred to you that this is a town which enjoys itself under protest, and is really much relieved when all the fuss is over, and it is at liberty to return to normal —like a man whoso pleasure-loving wife drags him round to theatres, parties, and balls while his inclinations turn yearningly towards home, his slippers, and his old clothes. That reminds me of the play which has just finished at the Theatre Royal —"Twin Beds.*' The story centres round just such a husband and wife. ami provided room for such complications and escapades and ridiculous situations that it really was, a shriek, as I predicted. The name might suggest a risque production to you, but that's where you tumble in. It's a play that, you might safely take your grandmother to see, although'she might remark that a sensible Jaegar garment would be more appropriate to a New Zealand climate than the flimsy, beribboned robe do nuit in which Myrtle Tannehill roams about the stage —the darkened stage, I might mention. After this company moves on we're to have "Peg o' My Heart," and Peg is "a dear little girl with a bit of a brogue." A brogue is a rather fascinating thing, isn't it? I have fond recollections of Ethel living's in "Lady Frederick"—it was the prettiest thing! And most wheedling. If Sara Allgood's is as nice (she is to play Peg) I shall love her for ever and ever, amen.

Great doings in the wool market. Tlie sale was to have been held during Show Week, when suddenly came a request from the Government for a postponement of the event. Following that was a hastily-called conference of the woolgrowers of the Dominion, and before them was laid a proposal, received from the Imperial Government to requisition all New Zealand wool. The price offered was a 45 per cent, advance on pre-war rates, which was—and still is—rather scorned by the growers. Such a miserable profit, indeed! Meantime the newspapers beat the big drum of patriotism, and solemnly adjure the growers to part, with their wool cheerfully, in* the name of the Empire and all that. Which is all very well for the newspapers, who have no wool to sell, retorts the shcepfarmer! Let's make a little song about it, commencing with the lay of the fanner last year, before any interfering Government commenced to cast covetous eves on his dip:For it's nil. to lie ;i farmer Now Unit war-lime's here! For whoever is a fanner Kinds, somCliinrning unaware That his clip for a fortune has been sold— That the smallest Hock is a mine of Hold And the overdraft is an old tale told In X.Z, now! However, owing lo the unwarrantable action of Hie Imperial authorities, the farmer just now is not feeling so ecstatic, and has pitched his song in a sail and minor key:— It's woe to he a farmer In these days of stress and dread ! For whoever is 11 farmer lie might just as well he dead, For what is the use of being alive When they offer a beggarly forty-five Per cent, advance it's enough to drive One crazy now! Everybody being very sorry for the

I farmer, a rlioriis"*arises to lit the occaI sion:— ' Oh, it's tragic for tin - farmer, | When lie sees a way to score A very honest penny I To have someone shut the door. I There arc sorrows of days, and sorrows of I years, But there is a sorrow too deep for tears. And this is the one that the farmer fearsSmall profits- now ! Our Australian friends, who turned down conscription the other day, are ; now hitting things up with a coal strike. i Looks as if roniniuni.cat.ioii between that .little island and Cs will be cut off be- | fore long, unless some one is brought Ito reason. Meantime all concerned are standing fir-r-riu. j - A nice little squabble lias just been : concluded that began in the odour of I sanctity and ended 1 wouldn't like to ! say where. The R.C. Bishop and a I newspaper of ponderous dignity were I the contestants, and they had a willing go with bared pens. I can hardly tell you what it was all about, it became so ; involved, but it commenced with the , Bishop heading an appeal on behalf of ! the poor of Ireland, and the newspaper speaking up and questioning the justice jof the cause. Honours were about, even, ! when a leading R.C. —who. by the irony of fate, is prominently connected with i the directorate of the paper —stepped in and administered the quietus to both parties. Did it with a letter over which all the onlookers are chuckling yet. In j justice to the writer, it must bo coni ceded that, his position made the writ - : ing of it something of a problem, to put it verv mildlv. LUCTA.