BY THE WAY.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 18780, 8 June 1929, Page 2

BY THE WAY.

SOME COLLECTIONS AND REFLECTIONS. (By One of the Boys). . She was only a publican’s daughter, ; but. she had spirit. ; About Wimbledon and the bare legs . I'm neutral. My wife is shocked at . the bare idea of it, but I say with the poet: "Stockings cover a multitude of l shins,” and we may as well look at : them. "A woman went into a chemist’s shop and said: “Have you any Life Buoy?” ; The assistant, who haxj. been reading sub-titles at the movies, replied: “Set the pace, lady.” Her Best Friend (sweetly) : “What, another Paris gown, my dear? How clever you are with your needle! ” On being asked what brand of tobacco he usually smoked, an Aberdonian said he did not know, as he was too polite to ask. Wife (to husband tinkering with car) : “What’s causing the trouble, dear?” Novice: “I don’t know exactly, but I think it’s the exasperator.” He was visiting a maiden aunt. Said she: “And what brought vou up to Christchurch, George?” “Oh” said he, “I came up to town to see the sights, 1 so thought to myself, I would call on you first.” From a boy’s letter to his chum: “You know Bob Jones’s neck?. Well he fell in the river up to it.” The man who put up a hoarding to hide the bare stretch of fern country out Blenheim way leaves one unimpressed. A few hoardings on the Tasman Glacier to brighten up the dull expanse of ice and crevasse, or posters at Sumner to hide the monotonous expanse of ocean will be the next bright idea. I see that a suburban Mothers* Union had a lecture on “Life’s Little Irritations.” I remember a talk on the same subject out Staveley way one hot summer’s day. A sort of service was held in a farmer’s kitchen*, and as the preacher was talking on Life’s Little Irritations he was very restless. At last he apologised. “It must be the heat,” he said. “No, mister,” said the farmer, “it’s the dogs that bring them in.” This idea of “bed socks” worn by the girls by day is no good. When I was young there was a mystery about girls. You had to guess a lot. Knees were not seen. A young man had to look at girl babies’ knees and imagine the metamorphosis. Now, of course, girls’ knees are displayed 50 obviously that they cease to interest. The mystery has departed. And so with “bed socks.” The first time Archie asks Gwennie what the new idea round the ankles is, and she says “bed socks,” Archie will be interested. Maybe he will be thrilled; maybe he will not. But another veil is torn off. The mystery of what bed socks are has gone.

In another year or two girls will try to raise a thrill with frilled pyjamas for day wear, and that will end it. Their charm will have disappeared with the too much intimate knowledge. HONEYMOON VILLA. Around the fire sat father (John), And mum was Thackey, and upon The chairs around were perched the boys Dan and Tom and Fred, their joys, And likewise Ted and Percy too. A fairer scene you’ll never view. ‘‘l rather fear,” said John to Thack, “That our discourses somewhat lack Frivolity; let us unbend; A witty evening let us spend. A riddle, Dan! Now tell me, pray, What food did Freddy Cooke to-day?” “I cannot tell,” said Dan. ‘‘lnstead, I ask you one, now scratch your head. Just tell me what made Percy Sharper” “I hate to quarrel, hate to carp,” Said Percy, “but your riddles fail To brighten me. Come, dad, a tale!” And John recounted there and then Of “Daniel in the Lyon’s den.” And “1 winkle, Twinkle, Christchurch ‘Star’ ” “Trips on the Milky Way,” by Carr. “Now Fred will sing,” said one, and he Sang “Roses Red And So Is Me,”

And Ted his national anthem sung: "Oh, Let Us Add to Addington.’' And so with song and story went A pleasant evening, sweetly spent. “One more,” said Dan. “Encore,” said Fred. “No more!” said John. “Now, off to bed! ”