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Taranaki Daily News, 4 March 1933, Page 19 (Supplement)

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THE OLD MAN IN THE GARRET. One day in the beginning of the 19th century an old gentleman was looking for something which he had mislaid. _ He was primly dressed in the fashion of that period, with a stock and a bottlegreen coat with a high velvet collar. But the dignity of his costume was spoilt by the fact that he was wearing a shabby leather apron. Up and down the hall the old man paced. Where could he have laid his snuffbox? Or rather, since he never would have been foolish enough to leave it lying about, the question was, where had his wife hidden it? The closet where she hoarded her own particular treasures of china and polished crystal would be a likely place to search. He found the box beneath a heavy piece of old cut glass. Just as his delicate fingers were closing over it another hand snatched _it away. _ “No, James,” said a severe voice, “that is forbidden. I shall not give it back to you.’ James turned; he saw an imposing figure in fi high-waisted gown and pokebonnet. ’ “Not pinch shall I allow you, she went on. "No snuff-taking in my clean house—a dirty, untidy habit." “But, Anne, I find it stimulating to the brain,” he protested. “Your brain does not need any rousing,” said she. “It,is too much for your bld’body already. You are over-engined, to use your own way of talk. And you have your apron still on, I do believe. “Anne, I think the dogs are asking to Come in from the garden,” he said, to turn her thoughts. Through the half-open dobr appeared the wistful faces of two pug-dogs, fixing anxibus eyes upon their mistress, but daring to come no farther. “No muddy paws on my clean hail, said she. “Wipe your feet on the mats before you cross it, dogs.” And well and truly the pugs wiped their feet on the mats provided before they came across the' polished surface. Gently snoring, they stood beside her white once more she spoke to James. “Do take your apron off. You know I never allow it in my presence. And dirty hands, too, and dinner nearly i*€ady» ,> “I am not coming to dinner,” said he. “I have too much work to do. I’ll away to rhy stable of hobby-horses,” ahd he began to toil up the stairs. “You keep the house to polish and make a plaything of; I will have the garret.” "James, your good dinner missed,” she mourned. “And all you will brew yourself there will be pdts of tea.” But she made no attempt to follow him to the place where he was king; No one, not even Anne her Self, dared to open the garret door once the master shut it. With a pleased smile he entered into peace and freedom and looked fibbut at his many inventions. The place Wfis crowded with tools, models, crucibles, a turning-lathe, and sculpture casts. Homely kitchen things intruded here and there, so that the inventor, when the vein was on him, could live regardless of those punctual family meals, fixed as the laws of the Medes and Persians. His snuffbox was still confiscated downstairs, but a cup of tea would revive him. He stirred the embers of the workshop fire to a blaze, and presently the' kettle began to sing. The lid lifted, and out looked a genie greater than the one in the fisherman’s jfii 4 . Many- a time down the ages had he Shown himself to folk with understanding eyes—to the Marquess of Worcester a cavalier imprisoned in the Tower, watching the lid-lifting of the pot that cooked his dinner, and thinking out his "water-commanding engine,” ahd to many another, Papin, Newcomen, ahd the rest. But the master of the genie Steam, the man w’ho had harnessed him for the service of his race, Was Jarftes Watt, the quiet little old gentle-* mail working away among his delicate models, and longing for his confiscated snuff-box. . CROSSING A HIDDEN BOUNDARY. Two Hungarian students named Joseph Szandrik and Hubert Kessler have just had a marvellous adventure, ending with an unexpected and romantic discovery. They started out to explore the wellknown stalactite cavern in Aggtelek ih Northern Hungary. From it? mouth emerges a brook named the Styx. They wanted to discover its source.

With two electric pocket-lamps aS their billy equipment they entered the caVetft aftd started to wade upward against the Cun-ent. Almost at once they left tho daylight, behind and moved forward, knCC-deep in the water, through blackest night—a night which the occasional gleam of their lamps seemed to show peopled with weird-shaped monsters, petrified and yet, Somehow alive and menacing. Closer and Closer these twisted shapes pressed On them, as though trying to force them to turn tail; but they refused to be cowed and went on. \ At last the channel of the brook became so narrow and the bfook itself so deep that the only way in which they could advance was by swimming on their backs with their lamps held between their teeth—no small feat, working as they were against the current, With the jagged points of the stalactites almost touching their faces. s

After what seemed to be hours the narrow tunnel through which the brook flowed widened, and they were able to get out of the water on to dry land. As they did so, their eyes were caught by some writing on the wall; a name, a date, and the one word Domica. Somewhat chagrined to find that someone had' been there before them, they yet pressed on. To their surprise they found the darkness gradually lifting, and suddenly, instead of getting to the heart Of the cavern as they expected', they were out in the open, gazing at green fields and cottages and trees waving in the sun. They would not have been Surprised to see a white rabbit with pink eyes running past and saying: “Oh dear, oh dear, I Shall bo tod late!” But they were surprised to see men like themselves, who told them they were in Czechoslovakia and that the cave they had just come from was the stalactite cave of Domica.

They had, all unknowing, crossed the frontier underground and proved the surprising fact that the caves of Aggtelek and Domica were one, and measured about ten miles from end to end.

Being unprovided with passpbrts they turned and made their way back to Hungary in. the same arduous fashion in which they had come, except that now the current was in their favour. The moral their little adventure points is perhaps that of Nature’s supreme unconcern with man-made frontiers, but it is a. moral which man Will fail, as usual, to take to heart; and if ever the Styx, which is the same brook that flows into the Domica Cave under another name, is made passable for motor-launches there is no doubt that frOntier-Stones will be placed to mark the underground dividing line between Hungary and Czecho-Slovakia, where spectral-looking but extremely material officials will pounce upon and Worry the life out of the innocent and unsuspecting wanderer.