CURRENT LONDON VIEWS

Taranaki Daily News, 13 October 1934, Page 14 (Supplement)

CURRENT LONDON VIEWS

NEW ADMIRAL OF FLEET SERVICE DURING GREAT WAR. a • STORY OF A ZEPPELIN RAID. (Special Correspondent.) London, Aug. 9. Sir Reginald Tyrwhitt, new Admiral of the Fleet, is 64, and senior admiral on the active list. He is a parson s son, a real sailor, tall, athletic, with a weatherbeaten face. He is not a big ship man, but commanded destroyers in the wap, and, despite missing Jutland through what most naval men regarded as an Admiralty blunder, was under fire more than any other officer of his rank. His famous ship the Saucy Arethusia was in the thick of the Heligoland Bight action, and so riddled that he might be said to have had her shot under him. Like most famous naval officers, Sir Reginald has a keen sense of humour, can make a rattling good impromptu speech, and regards landlubbers with tolerant curiosity. Once, after a Zeppelin hadappeared overhead and been ‘ shooed off by a British plane, Sir Reginald, who was conducting service aboard his ship, gave out a hymn specially appropriate to the occasion.' “Look upwards to the skies.” Hundred Years’ Job.

It is 31 years since Westminster Cathedral reared its famous Byzantine cupola above even the towers of the Abbey. It will be 69 years more before the interior decoration of the vast and beautiful building is complete. A design has been prepared for the decoration of the choir apse behind the high altar, and visitors are invited by Cardinal Bourse to write any criticisms they may be prompted to make in a book kept specially for this purpose. The apse design is shown in model in the cathedral crypt, so that the finished effect may be accurately judged. There is something impressive, in this age of rush and hurry, in this patient completion of a big task. Within the Westminster Cathedral time resumes its normal beat, and things are measured not in m.p.h,, but in generations. All the same I preferred the building in its unadorned simplicity. The mural decorations destroy the sense of its hugeness. Stem and Wild.

The pretty little squabble over the old Duke of Cumberland’s portrait in the National Portrait Gallery burns merrily. Certain perfervid Scots with strong home rule sentiments took sudden objection to the official title on. this picture. It had read for forty-seven years “The Hero of Culloden.” This offended the ultra Scots, and they raised Cain With the directorate. The latter placidly surrendered and changed the title to “The Victor of Culloden.” In Scotland, of course, they used to call the Duke the Butcher of Culloden, and perhaps they imagined the National Portrait Gallery might adopt that title. They cannot challenge the strict historical accurancy of the new description, but it irks them even more than the old. Now comes a sporting suggestion by some derisive Saxon horse racing enthusiast that the best title for the Duke would be the breeder of Eclipse. Mummy Wheat.

Two at least of the reports from various parts of rural England about growing mummy wheat looked reasonably anthentic. The story is that grains of corn found in ancient tombs, and presumably from two to three thousand years old, have been sown in England and have produced wheat. Sir E. A. Wallis Budge, who for 30 years had Charge of the Egyptian section of the British Museum, discounts these experiments and gives a likely explanation. Years ago he got the Kew experts to try wheat found in a 1200 B.C. tomb in Western Thebes. Nothing came of these elaborate trials, and the grain was found in dust form. Sir Wallis thinks the wheat successfully grown was not really antique, but comparatively new wheat, this being accounted for by the fact that native farmers habitually store their grain in these ancient tombs when available. Wheat grains die after a few years. Olympian S.O.S. A crowd of between fifty and sixty thousand people assembled at the White City for the second day’s sporting events of the British Olympic Games. It kept dry, in spite or the pessimistic weather .prophets and a threatening sky, but the humid heat was oppressive. Despite which we saw some magnificent athletics, including the high jump, the pole jump, putting the shot and numerous track events, the most dramatic of the latter being the six miles race, won by .A. W. Penny for England with an amazing final sprint to beat a strong Canadian challenge. The girls showed splendid spirit and stride in their races, and England’s women runners distinguished themselves. An interesting side show, during the putting the shot contest, was the friendly attempt of the winner, the South African H. Hart, to show his rivals how to do it. No unsporting spirit this. But the piece de resistence was the loud speaker announcement that a gentleman present desired his wife, also present, whom he had not seen for two years, “to meet him outside for a quiet private talk under Queensberry rules!”

By the Cork. The head wine waiter at the Savill Club has recently celebrated his official jubilee. For fifty years Mr. Frank Harris has been sampling vintages for members and their friends, and has become recognised as an infallible judge and critic. Yet he has never tasted even a sip of any of the wines submitted to him. Such is the highly developed sense of smell Mr. Frank Harris possesses that he can pronounce his verdict, with absolute certainty, merely after sniffing the cork or the uncorked bottle. By this simple method he “places” the liquor with unvarying certainty. His lament is that post-war youth lacks the wine sense of its worthy forebears. The motor, the cocktail and the “gasper” habit have destroyed connoisseurship in fine vintages. Mr. Frank Harris has discussed wines and other serious topics with people like Earl Balfour, Sir Henry Irving, Thomas Hardy and R.L.S.

Naval Brevity. • Judging by an anecdote told to me a few nights ago, by one who witnessed the episode, the late Mr. Horatio Bottomley thought nd small beer of himself. At the zenith of his peculiar fame he did r. lot of war propaganda work, visiting the Western Front and being listened to by Tommies as one inspired from above. He also went to the Grand Fleet at Scapa Flow, and was received, when he boarded the ship to which he was taken, not merely by the officer of the watch, but with regal state by captain and staff. “Where’s the Admiral ” demanded Mr. Bottomley. He was hot with indignation at the slight to his dignity when told this was not a flagship. In answer to his very blunt comments on such an outrage the captain softly cooed: “Well. Mr. Bottomley, it’s this way. The Admiral and I tossed up who should have the honour of entertaining you, and I lost the toss!” “Ju-Ju.” Although what I do not know about anthropology would fill many large volumes, I take the ’liberty of contri-

buting an item for the consideration of the experts who . were discussing that subject in London last week. A friend of mine, who was in charge of telegraphy in one of the African colonies, thought it would be a good idea to make wireless the general medium, thereby saving the cost of constructing lines and poles, and the still greater cost of maintaining them against the ravages of white ants. But to his discomfiture he found that while the native operators worked ordinary telegraphy with reasonable proficiency, they refused to touch wireless. So long as wires were there everything was explained; but to communicate without wires was “ju-ju,” and therefore to be avoided at all costs. So an interesting and cheap experiment had to be abandoned. Club Exchanges.

As usual in August, about half the clubs in the West End are closed while they are being cleaned and painted, and the members are admitted temporarily to other clubs, which will receive hospitality in their turn next year. Among those now closed is the Athenaeum. Its frequenters find themselves at home in one of the Service clubs. There is an old story that.a peppery general, whose umbrella went amissing at such a season, exclaimed: “That’s the worst of having those confounded bishops about the place.” The late Lord Morley’s favourite club was the United Services, to which he was elected as a Cabinet Minister. He used it because it has a good table and a good cellar—he was fond of both—and because, being little known personally, he could count on quiet.