“BOY!”

Thames Star, Volume LVII, Issue 15777, 12 February 1923, Page 7

“BOY!”

CALL OF THE EAST.

“Boy!” That is the call of the East.

Pass through the gateway of Suez and you will hear it ringing loud and clear until you reach Snn Francisco. From the rising to the setting of the sun, and until the going down of the moon, it is upon the lips of thousands of white men, and Indians, Chinese, Japanese, Malays, Papuans, and a hun dred other shades of brown, yellow and black give heed to it. It is the magic word, which is pronounced full throatedly on a note of command and with a drawl. It gives its user a god-like sensation. It is a fairy wand which conjures up whisky and soda, riding boots, a helmet, a cushion, a messenger—anything you will. U is the incantation which raises the bottle imp to do your bidding, states a writer in the Daily Mail. “Boy!” and your boots are laced. “Boy !” and the green blinds fad to shut out the white blaze of moon-day sun. “Boy 1” and bare feet run pitterpat or sandals clickety-clop, bringing a brown statue to do your bidding, • ♦ • • Wisely, Mr. Somerset Maugham has made it the first word in nis play, “East of Suez.” It is the word which makes life bearable out there. It amazing how we whites, who grumble at fog and cold and rain, lose our energy when we find the perpetual warmth of our heart’s desire We become as relaxed and as full of whims as a spoilt child. A man may clean his own boots be hi® own valet, even cook bis own breakfast, in England, but when he goes East he becomes a oalip'h, who must be waited upon hand and foot. The pen must be put into his fingers ere he writes The path of life must be cleared of tiresome obstructions, “Boy!” Failing an immediate answer, you must repeat with rapidly growing inpatience and a righteo is wrath welling up in you, “Where is that (assorted) boy 1 ” I dined with a China coastal captain recently. Our waitress was a princess in disguise--she mule that clear by her bearing—and a Russian duke, presumably, mused upon our impudence in ordering liquors. My host’s cheeks were puffed out with wrath. i “Anyway,” he snapped, ‘ ; l’m going out again next week V' He was returning to his /kingdom. I knew the word his tongue was hungry for. Two claps of the hands, anc! “Boy !” in a bellow, and my captain, in truth, will be in command again.