SPINDRIFT.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 16819, 23 August 1922, Page 6

SPINDRIFT.

Readers are invited to vend In original topical paragraphs or verses for this column, whioh i* a daily feature o t the “ Star.” Accepted contributions should be cut out by the writers and forwarded to the Editor, who will remit the amount* payable. A local clothing ftrm is advertising starched white collars for sale at one penny eatfh. This will be a sever© blow to the Bolshevik cause. Signs of Spring are everywhere. The other day I noticed that two mechanics had constructed a neat little nest on one of the poles carrying the telephone wires, and they were working away quite contentedly. The fashion journals say that dressmakers are disagreed a« to the correct position for the waist this season, and much confusion is, resulting. Let them put it where theV like; the young men’s arms will locate it every time. “ This hor6e has had a disastrous run of luck, having run second in his last five starts.”—Extract from sporting notes. It appears as if our Rugby representatives are going to have the same experience. The cultivation of a bln© rose has been successful. Unfortunately a southern paper spells “rose” with an “ n.” Scientists say the earth is getting drier every day. T don’t believe it. I have just come bac.v from gillTHE WEATHER PROPHET. He sits like some Olympic god. So calm, inscrutable and sage; The weather’s secrets, hid from us, To him are like a written page. H© knows just when the sun will beam, And when he’ll turn his face away. And if our Easter will be On© Or if ’twill rain on Christmas Day. And woe to Mary Ann who wears Her new spring hat upon the pier, If in the printed page she sees The prophet say that rain is near. The evening tram will bear her home. A sadder and a wiser girl, Her shapeless hat a sorry sight, Her golden hair washed out of curl. And Marmaduke. who seeks the hills, To watch the sunset’s colours wane, Will soon be slinking into town His new grey trousers soaked with rain. All this is logically good. And what our reason says is right. For all of us once learned at school That black was block and white was white. Yet I confess that when I want To take my new car out of town, I fetch the evening paper and Peruse it with a worried frown. And if I see, Continue fine,” And “ light east winds ” or “ frost again,” I lock my garage door and say, "We won’t go out—it’s sure to rain. I have just received from the wellknown publishers, Messrs Spook, Spirit and Co., a notification announcing that a new book by Charles Uickens will be made available early next, month. The work is being made available through the agency of Mr D. Weird, the wellknown medium. Negotiations continued for over a year, before the spirit of Charles Dickens could be induced, to sign a contract.

The Hon Member for Paekakariki: c ■ You’re a liar!” Tho Hon Member for Pukerau: * * You’re another i’ * In days of old when people made Remarks not quite polite, And called each other nasty names (Which really wasn’t right), We thought them quite beyond the pale, Their manners showed a frightful breach ; And all of us displayed our scorn At suoh “ unparliamentary ’-* speech. But as the House is shaping now ' I see a time not- far ahead ; When into this descriptive word A different meaning will be read ; And Magistrates upon the Bench Command in tones peremptory That prisoners must .serve their time For language “ parliamentary.” Lloyd George has been offered thousands of pounds for writing a book. I know a maker of books who was fined fifty pounds. Newspaper head line : “ Heads of delegations in close touch.” Now I ask you, is it a fair thing to have lady members of local bodies? THE MUSIC ALE. Don’t ask me to your “ musicale ” I’d sooner spend a night in gaol, for even there one can be bright, but never at a music night. A tenor with a tearful eye sings in his agony “ Goodbye,” and in response to loud applause in misery the fact deplores that, though he counts each bead apart, tho Rosary still breaks his heart. “ The Vengeance of the Yellow God ” is cheerful as a stale red cod. Recited by some gloomy Miss, it fills the company with bliss, so bringing sorrow on my head she sobs the news that Lasca’s dead. Then someone takes a violin, and with a tone impure and thin exposes how “ The Dying Swan ” was quite severely trodden on. Of course, she has to play again, so filling all the air with pain she scrapes out scratchilv “ Valse Triste ” like some grim spectre at a feast. But still from sorrow no relief —a woman yells in tones of grief—her name is mud, “ Less than the Dust,” so in her breast a knife she’ll thrust. She sings another after this—in “Till I Wake” demands n kiss, for she is drawing near to death (she’s also almost out of breath). Thus does the mournful list mooch on, till all the tea and cakes are gone, the guests all smiling through their tears, performers all acclaimed as “ dears.” They all declare the night sublime, and say they’ve had a lovely time. I’ll certainly R.S.V.P., but send no more invites to me.

There was great excitement among the gods on high Olympus. Certain deities who were jealous of Hercules contended that his twelve labours were only “ cushy” jobs, particularly an he had been specinilv -armed and equipped for each task. Hercules arose in great wrath. te Name your labour,” he cried, “ and I will accomplish it or perish.” Then spoke crafty Juno, who had organised the conspiracy. “If you would prove your right to immortality go and act a-s referee at a Sydney football match.” And Hercules hid his face in his mantle, for he knew that this task meant being kicked to death by the infuriated partisans of the losing team, and he dared not face it. Germany is crying aloud for a moratorium. Our platform is, a moratorium for Germany and a padded cell for Russia. SIX HAD