LETTER FROM LONDON

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume LXXXIII, Issue 19847, 23 May 1927, Page 10

LETTER FROM LONDON

GERMAN AVIATION DEVELOPMENT POLITICS, ART, AND SPORT

The Budget Deficit. I shall not be at all surprised if the big Budget deficit proves in the long run to be a blessing in disguise. So long as the national revenue covered even approximately the national expenditure, so long might we expect Parliament and the country to pursue more or less half-heartedly the stony path of economy. But the deficit this year was very much heavier than anyone expected and it has fairly woken up. No one questions Mr Churchill’s zeal for economy. He has pressed for it as hard as any man could and, short of tendering his resignation, has done his utmost to win round the Cabinet to an iconoclastic policy. He has now got the outside backing which he needs and I shall be surprised if some of our postwar new departments are not hurriedly wound up and merged into other departments. Sir John Simon’s Chance. I gather that the Liberals are expecting to make good use of the Trade Disputes Bill. They look especially to Sir John Simon, whose powerful speeches during the general strike did much to bring that foolish episode to an end and establish him in a unique position as an authority on trade union law. His party friends believe that, if he will throw himself into the Committee discussion, he will have a great influence on public opinion in view both of Iris professional eminence and the knowledge that, while he is friendly towards trade unions, he is also candid. The Liberals believe that there is a real chance of demonstrating that they occupy a middle position as between employers and employed, and that they will thereby attract a large measure of popular support. China’s Waterway.

The water in the Yangtze is rising. This, from a naval point of view, is probably one of the most important factors in the week’s budget of news from China. During the winter, China’s great waterway runs at ebb level between expanses of steeply shelving mud banks and silt, and is only navigable by river craft or the smaller seagoing vesels. Though the actual depth of water in the channel, even at its lowest, would allow a margin below the keel of much larger steamers, the sharp hairpin bends of its tortuous course prohibit vessels of any length from steering round them. In the summer, conditions are completely altered, and 15,000 tons, ocean-going steamers or powerful cruisers can proceed along the 600 odd miles of river that saparates Hankow from the sea. With the return of warm weather the snow melts from the Tibetan Mountains, and at the same time the rain season sets in in the great watershed of Hunan and Kiangsi. From April, the river swells and rises at the rate of several inches a day, and by the end of May it becomes more than a mile in width. Plying In Germany. Germany is playing the lion’s part in impressive air developments that will take place during the coming summer. Practically all the most important cities on the Continent will be linked up by a system of daily air services, the running of which will be planned to suit those business people whose support must be their mainstay. It will be possible to reach any big German city from any other by an early morning air service. The cities thus linked together include Berlin, Brunswick, Bremen, Hamburg, Rotterdam, Amsterdam, Nuremburg, and Frankfort. The German air authorities also intend to link up Berlin with Peking via Kovno, Smolensk, and Moscow. With this Peking air service London will be connected via Croydon and Berlin. Directly China emerges from her present civil turmoil, and the inevitable commercial boom begins in the Far East, this service should prove of inestimable value to business firms Despite all the handicaps imposed by the Versailles Treaty, some of which proved disguised blessings, Germany leads the world in the air at this moment. Ex-Kaiser and Germany. Diplomats are much interested at the moment by the ex-Kaiser’s message to his former subjects. It is noted that his ex-Majesty, while explicitly repudiating any step, direct or otherwise, to obtain permission to return to the Fatherland, adds a characteristic and significant addendum. Not only does he stress the retention of the Royal Palace, Unter den Linden, in Berlin, on the simple pretext that it is a rest house for the Empress Hermine on her journeys from Doorn to her Silesian estates, but he adds that to seek permission to return from a Republican Government would be beneath the Royal dignity. Is that a haughty gesture merely, or is it a subtle hint to German Monarchists and loyal subjects that, once the present regime is overthrown, “Barkis is willin’?’’ Khartoum Cathedral Memorial. Khartoum Cathedral, which is shortly to be enriched by a sculptured memorial to Lord Kitchener, the work of the late Countess Foodora Gleichen, already has a Gordon Chapel, the altarcloth of which is said to have been made out of the General’s tunic. The cathedral is a heavily built structure from the outside, owing to the care taken by the architect to avoid the direct rays of the sun, but inside one might be in any typical cathedral at home. Church parades here are very impressive, and once a year representatives from other cathedrals—there are three all told, Greek, Coptic, and Boman —attend for a Gordon Memorial Service. Kitchener was so much identified with the establishment of this enduring monument to Anglo-Saxon occupation that the building would be incomplete without a memorial to him. A Shavian Inkpot. W< heard a good deal about Mr Bernard Shaw’s seventieth-birthday celebrations, thanks partly to the terrified censorship placed on the House of Commons’ party, but one interesting

LONDON, April 7. item has not re-ached Mr Shaw’s innumerable admirers. Besides the Parliamentary lunch in his honour, there was another entertainment at which “G.B.S. ’’ was toasted by a number of literary friends. At this festival, Mr Shaw was presented with a handsome souvenir inkpot, now reposing in Adelphi Terrace, but ‘banished to an apartment where ordinary visitors are not likely to see it. The cause of the banishment is a Shavian inscription printed round the base of the inkpot, which pleased the recipient greatly, but is just .a little too “strong meat’’ for Mrs Shaw. The inscription, which will be recognised as embodying a famous line from Mr Shaw’s “Pygmalion,’’ reads:—“Will G.B.S. ever die? Not bloody likely!’’ • When Mrs Pat Campbell spoke that line on the first night, Sir J. M. Barrie was among the distinguished stallites, and exclaimed: “Dear, dear! This will never do!’’ He did not envisage the post-war flapper. The First Lucifer. Exactly one hundred years ago this week, on April 7, 1827, the first box of lucifer matches was sold across the counter in a chemist shop at Stockton-on-Tees. The purveyor was Mr John Walker, chemist and druggist, who was himself the inventor and thought so little of his discovery that he did not even trouble to patent it. He had been making up a mixture some of which adhered to a tiny piece of wood. Accidental friction caused this to ignite and the first lucifer match —had arrived! They were sold in little boxes at om and twopence each. The twopence was for the box and some of these are said to be extant still. With each box a piece of sandpaper was provided, and this, when bent, provided the friction to ignite the match. A Famous Singer. Though Mr Edward Lloyd was 82, and retired in the zenith of his singing glory over a quarter of a century ago, his name still conjures magic with all the post-war generation. He was incomparably our greatest singer, and the fine genius of his art was its simple effort. He was a natural singer, and sang because the inspiration of song was in him. He was born in the musical purple, too. His grandfather was bandmaster to the Scots Guards after Waterloo. His father was an Abbey tenor, and his mother one of the first students at the Royal Academy of Music. A great galaxy of stars graced his farewell concert, but his last public appearance, due to the late Sir Frederick Bridges, was at King George’s Coronation, when he sang the solo part of the National Anthem in the Abbey. He was twice married, his first wife, who dissuaded him even when offered a blank cheque from ever appearing in opera, being a lady whom he saw when a young tenor at Trinity College playing at the Cambridge Theatre in ’ “Faust.” e A Lawyer’s Bank Holiday. I An action is now wending its weary way through the courts which must be responsible for an almost record total of coats in proportion to the actual sum involved in the action. A woman is claiming about £5O damages for injuries caused by a fur which infected hei with a skin complaint. She is suing the shop from which she bought it. The shop is in turn suing the supplier, who is in his turn suing the man who sold the fur to him. There are eight actions involving 16 different costs, each man, on being sued, suing his supplier. By the time a decision is reached probably £2,000 will have been spent in legal costs to decide whether the £5O should be paid or not! Listening to fihe Boat Race.

No more jostling in towpath crowds on bleak afternoons for me. I have watched the boat race for twenty years, but in future I am going to listen to it in my armchair with a comfortable pipe alight as I did last Saturday, and yet followed the whole epic from start to finish perfectly. Wireless is a poor substitute for seeing a football match, but it is better than glimpsing a fleeting vision of the boat race from any position. Mr. Oliver Nickalls and

Mr. J. C. Squire enabled me to follow the whole tiftng. I heard the roar of the crowds, the hysterical shriek of the tugs, even the throb of the 8.8. C. motor launch, and I knew at each familiar rivermark how the grim tussle was going. I knew when each boat was sprinting for the lead, how they fared in the rough water, -when one crew began to splash and splutter, and exactly how Cambridge won, just ns everybody knew they would. I found Mr. Nickalls more helpful and graphic than Mr. Squire, and my pipe never ■went out once. Damp Laurels. Everybody knows what a costly luxury it is at golf to hole out in one. Especially if, like Sandy Herd, the golfer makes a hobby of it. Recently a friend of mine achieved the feat, and, though well aware of the consequences, being a keen golfer he rejoiced and was exceeding glad. But he found that his laurels were even more costly than he had expected. He presented the customary bottle of whisky to his caddie, and blithely proceeded to the nineteenth hole. There he found a monstrous regiment of his friends apd fel-low-members paraded at the bar —together with a couple of grazing sheep who had been dragged in specially for the occasion. My friend states that he felt nearly as sheepish as the sheep; and the latter looked almost as thirsty as the deputation. Gay Revulsions. . Not even the 8.8. C. will ever be able to destroy the exclusiveness of fencing. The sport attracts more and more recruits from both sexes, and epee academies multiply in London, but its whole aura is that of Louis XIV. One of the big fencing seances is a thrilling experience. You are ushered into an elegant apartment, bedecked with flowers, palms, decollette ladies, and exquisite gentlemen. Tall, thin, duellist-looking maitres d’armes, a cross between high priests and court officials, are the pontifical M.C.’s. The practice of the epee and the foil surrounds itself with ceremonial ritual. You feel it is a mystic and sacred art. But what sharp revulsions! Two stern exponents confront each other in the centre of the floor. They are garbed as carefully as Guards’ officers, with just a touch of the deepsea diver. They salute punctiliously And then promptly engage in the most

furious and blood-thirsty exchanges. Honour satisfied they relapse into beautific calm, take their seats and a cigarette amid the ladies and the tea-cups in easy chairs, and talk elegant tittletattle. It is the very antithesis of Rugger on a damp day! Filming Eagles. Captain C. W. R. Knight, the naturalist and photographer, is a bold man. Not only has he taken films of the golden eagle in its native eyrie, a unique and dangerous adventure, but in his garden in Kent he has succeeded in taming an eagle sent him by a friend, so that it will now fly to and from Lis wrist like, a falcon, going and returning without any chain. To say that it returns to his wrist is perhaps an exaggeration. It actually lands on his leathcrbound arm, and sometimes half knocks him over. The films taken of this remarkable bird, which is to be sent home to its native Grampians this week, are now shown by Captain Knight at the new Polytechnic Theatre. The slow motion pic turcs of eagles wheeling, rising, and planing towaids tho camera are very beautiful, end there are one or two delightfully “human’’ incidents in the domestic life of the eagles filmed in their native nests. Human children do not squabble with so much violence as the young eagle, who is shown to peck 'her brother to death and throw him out of the nest; but the eagle learn ing to fly is, as Captain Knight, shows, just like a baby trying to walk, and certain of the exercises of “William,” one of the eagles filmed by Captain Knight, certainly resemble the best known forms of Swedish drill. Skit on the “Superfilm.” One of the funniest films that have ever crossed the Atlantic is “The Cruise of the Jasper B,” which is showing this week at the Capitol. It is a skit on the super-films produced by such men as Mr. Cecil B. de Mille, and was, I am told, originally submitted as a serious super-film, before one of Mr. de Mille’s staff, being possessed of a sense of humour, and a good flair for subtitles, decided to treat tne scenario -is a farce. There is a prologue, with amusing spoof dedications and captions which repiesents Mr. Rod la Rocque as a pirate of 1725 rescuing a young ladv (in modern evening dress) from his

piratical colleagues, and a plot proper, with the same actor, and Mildred Harris (famous as Chaplin’s first wife) as a young man and woman of to-day. The young man has to be married by 3 o’clock on his 25th birthday on board the Jasper B (his ancestor’s now dcrc I'ct vessel). The young woman is being chased by her villainous half-uncle, who is attempting to scrub off her back the marks of her real uncle’s will, which had got stuck there just before he tore up the paper version.. Add to these farcial premises the stealing of a box from the United States Mail, and the bombardment of the Jasper B. bv a whole fleet, army and air force, on the ground that “it’s a Federal matter,’’ and one has a splendid caricature of all tho. war films, love films, drama films, and crook films that Holywoou has ever sent us.