Some Hints

Star (Christchurch), Issue 16940, 15 January 1923, Page 10

Some Hints

THE COLLECTOR AS TRUSTEE. A friend who is a connoisseur and collector of old china came to tea. the other afternoon, and to do him honour we served tea in a set of the old white and gold Swansea which has come down tc- us© through four generations. Our friend was horrified. The idea of using such china scandalised him. “ Suppose a piece was broken?” he said in an agonised tone. In. vain we assured him that we washed up the set ourselves, and tha; it- was never trusted in the hands oi the servants; in vain we begged him to believe that we never had so much as cracked a cup. He refused to he comforted until the service, such of it as had been used, was safe back in the cupboard where it lives. Talking over it afterwards. Lis argument was this: The owner of anythinc of real artistic value, especially of anj perishable object, such as old china oi an old picture, must consider himsel: merely as trustee of such property, anc take all possible precautions against it: being broken or damaged. “ You must remember,” be said “ that there is in existence only :■ limited number of such beaut if u things, and that when one is broken r is irreplaceable. China such as you hav: been using is part of the artistic capi tal of tli© nation and should be kepi locked in a glass-fronted cabinet.” If this collector's argument is Carried to its legitimate conclusion, al really good china, andeverything els. of the kind should at once be placed ir a public museum. But this i> a conn sel of and one which th-: average private owner will certainl* not accept. At the present moment, owing to tin closing of many country houses anc: the present dearth of competent sor vants. a- great dcfal of beautiful chin, and silver is locked up out oi sight ir posits. No one can. see or onjov it. Aly feeling is that it is better U enjoy wlrat one has. There is a greai pleasure in the use of fine old chine and silver, and I think that—grantor all due care is taken in the use am. cleaning of it—the owners are entitle-: to this pleasure. There are, of course., some objects s< rare and precious that they are fii only for museum pieces. T have seen -• Charles II silver porridge bowl used or the breakfast table as a sugar basin Considering that this bowl, thongl worn as thin as paper, was worth nearly £IOO, to use it in such a way was undoubtedly wrong. After all, the whole question is,

suppose, one of degree, and one on which, even collectors themselves wilL have different opinions. EVERY WOMAN KNOWS SOMETHING. (By CONSTANCE COTTERELL.) The knees of the curate’s wife were trembling. She pressed the palms of her hands together and squeezed them between her knees, so that she looked iT elegant but thoroughly frightened. From her corner of the garden she could see the members of the Women’s Institute and the guests moving about and looking at the flowers and the jams and honeycombs and the needlework and the baskets and all the rest of it. Tea was just over and soon the prizes ware to be given, but before that was to come her awful moment-! She felt- hot, she felt cold, she wetted her lips and shut her eyes; she wished she had never, never become the curate’s wife (yet she dearly lovel her curate) : she wished—-she didn't know what she wished ! A tall woman came beautifully pacing over the grass; she was in a long white gown with one big black ring on her finger, and hanging a long way down was a black jet chain. Even in her fright, the curate’s wife adored her. “ Alay I sit by 7/011?” the whR-e lady asked in a gentle voice. “ Oh, yes,” said Airs Curate desperately , relapsing into her fright. “On which side, please?” Then little Airs Curate noticed that slie was hunched in the exact middle of the little scat. They sat quite silent. At last Airs Curate felt as it her head were invisibly pulled round ; the white lady’s soft black eyes were fixed on her. “ What’s it all about,” she said, between laughing and coaxing. Airs Curate poured it out. “You see, I’ve been married just a year, and I’ve had a baby, and I’ve never done anything else—-and now I’ve got to make a speech!” “ Dear me, that’s very terrible,” said the white lady, with a smile so lovely that for a moment Airs Curate felt brave and happy. “ Every bod v seems to have to do that now. And what are you going to talk about?” “ I had something, but it’s all gone out of my head—and if it hadn’t I shouldn’t know how to say it!” The white lady hesitated a moment. “ A friend of mine who lectures in a university says she finds the greattiling is not tc| let your voice come from your head.” ‘ ‘ They could teach me all about housework and babies and dressmaking

I’m only twenty, and I don’t knoif anything 1” “Poor little- wife.. But don’t yott think every woman knows somethins*. special that she c»n t©H ? >s “ Except me.” The corners of Afrt Curate’s mouth came down. iC Oh. da help me!” “ Have you lived here all your life - » ‘‘No. I lived in London ” “Tell them about that. Tell fibeni how people live without any gardens, and about the houses going up ini*# the skv, and the families living on# above another, and the lifts swimming up and down, and what the fogs are like, and the children that have never .seen a tadpole nor a hay field, and about the cat’s meat man ! Think what a little buried village this is. It will be like a fairy tale to them.” Airs Curate’s eyes began to sparkle. “Oh. thank you!” “ And, my friend.” the lady murmured. “ says, never give more tho 1 three new ideas at a time.” “Oh. I shan’t!” cried little Airs Curate, and looking up she saw tho hostess beckoning. Her time had Mrs Curate’s fairy tale had a gre?” success, and the deeper she plunge! into it, the easier she found the going. The women flapped and clapped, then the prizes were given, then it- was all supposed to be over. But tho people wouldn’t budge; they began calling, softly *t first, then ' boldly, Airs Stanhope! Airs Stanhope!*’ Everyone bad heard of Airs Stanhope, the hostess’s famous sister, all ovethe country, even in the tiniest village. Then little Airs Curate saw her white lady get up and face the people and smile, just the same smile. The blood was drumming in her ears; she did i.ot bear a word—the great Airs Stanhope and tho little curate’s wife! She hurried out, but just as she got clear of the crowd she heard the white lady’s gentle voice close to her ea *. • You see, every woman knows something!” “ To think I asked you to help me. Oh. 1 was never so ashamed in jut life !” “Now. why?” said the white lady, patting her hand. Airs Curate was. hack at home with the most wonderful baby in the world. “Now, why?” she asked herself. “ AYe're both human beings, we both uore white, we’ve both got babies, and we both made a speech! Now, why?”