Vanity Fair

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 72, Issue 235, 3 October 1929, Page 2

Vanity Fair

"Chronicle** Office, W anganui, October 2, 1929. These be speedy days, my masters: and the custom is, if you re talking about a holiday, to say it with racing cars, aeroplanes, or perhaps a little submarine now and then. But Margot has just heard of a holiday which she thinks she would like much better. "We borrowed the trap and harness,” said the Camouflaged Gipsy, looking dreamily at the fire, “dnJ after that. We advertised for a horse. You'd be astonished at the number of poor, lonely, unwanted horses to be found in this country. We could have had one with a pedigree for a tenner, but we practised economy and bought a very nice, matey sort of beast for £5. Then we packed up our sleeping bags, and put in some oats and things in case the horse didn't make an honest living from the wayside grasses, and away We went. We started at Wanganui, and ended up at Taupo. And we weren't hurrying, not by no manner of means. When the sun was hot, we got down and lazed beside rivers, and found little green bits of the world that motorists don't know about, and collected ferns and birds' eggs. The first night out, we cut ferns and spread them under our sleeping bags. But by degrees, wc got to like the bumps in the ground, and the smell of the grass, and the nice, spacious feeling you get when you wake up at midnight and realise that there's nothing but air between you and the nearest star.” 'And did you steal chickens?” Margot asked respectfully. "Not chickens” said the man, "We couldn't find any, or we would have put all that to rights. But We stole turnips, little round white fellows, and peeled the outside skin off them and ate the rest. Then again, we were very much attracted by the wild mint that grows by brown bush streams, not to mention watercress. And the blackberries on some of those lonely roads between Rotorua and Taupo are at least as big as golf balls, but much juicier. . . > “/ remember one dinner, which we had on the middle of an island. (You are quite right, we didn't get there by horse and trap. We tied the horse to a tree, where he Was quite happy and contented, and went across in a dinghy, which We hired). On the island were fig trees that had been there since the beginning of the world, and big purplish figs on them. There were also wild Cape gooseberries, wild raspberries, wild cherries—in fact, the place was a natural born larder.” "It does sound juicy,” Margot sighed, thinking of the comparatively uninteresting meals that one gets in restaurants and hotels. Yes, the World may have progressed, but sometimes there's still a lot of happiness to be found in the leisurely ways of yesteryear. Sentimentally, • MARGOT. DOG DAYS PERSONAL AND SOCIAL.

DOWN PETTICOAT LANE. The Face on the Chair A chair’s just like anything else: it can have a personality if it wants to, and there’s one in Wanganui which would be just the thing for a stage villain, providing he wasn’t too stoutly built, for it’s one of those slim and unsubstantial chairs. It is carved from black wood, and from among vine-leaves, which are woven into its high back, looks out a thoroughly malevolent face, with long beard and a scowl which would make the fortune of any lawyer. The chair hasn’t a family history—it’s just a castaway of the antique world —but nobody would be in the least surprised if, having sat thereon, he were to have ms hair tweaked by unseen hands. Three Little Birds Far away in foreign lands, there arc people who devote their whole time to the pursuit and capture of the dainty knick-knack. And these would most certainly stop to admire the three small birds which perch geily on a brown bough in one Wanganui frockshop. At first sight, you think that honest-to-goodness humming birds have chosen the place for their building site, but when you look at them closely, you see that the feathered folk are made of coloured wool, so beautifully matched that the workmanship can’t be detected. They comic from Switzerland, and are very nice immigrants indeed. Pirate Costumes

In the bad old days, it was all right if you were a Borzoi, or a pedigree bulldog, or even a fox terrier with silver .cups to your credit: but, unless somebody had a deep-seated affection for you, it didn’t pay to be just plain, unmitigated dog. The world could be a cold, hard place on occasions and there were gentlemen connected with the City Council who took a interest in dogs without visible means of support. Most of this, however, has changed, and nowadays, a dog of sober habits and good condition is given plenty of chances to prove Lis right to live before the doors of the dread lethal chamber open unto him. No New Zealand city can to-day consider itself well equipped unless it has some place where any ‘poor wandering one” who’s forgotten the number of his mistress’s house, and left his identification disc at home, can be boarded. Usually the city council yards are the scene of action, and dogs of all varieties, from aristocrats who have seen much better days and juicier lines to waifs who are quite accustomed to fending for themselves are grouped together. Some of them are very conversational—in fact, when the “Chronicle” reporter called at one, such little gathering place of the clans, a Iff go and handsome collie leapt up and did its best to show a fraternal spirit by licking her face. “You don’t have to worry about these dogs,” said the popular gentleman who fed them. “The other day, a man came in here and looked ’em over and said, ‘‘Don’t drown any of them. I’ll pay their board until they are claimed.” He isn’t the only one, by any means, to realise that it is utterly wrong for so cheerful a comrade as a dog to come to an untimely end. In Christchurch, not long ago, a man put an advertisement in the paper stating that he would find homes for stray dogs: and so he did. He was the representative of a society which kept a protecting eye on pups, and his idea was that dogs are like children—there’s always room for just one more, somewhere about the place. Lots of dogs, even if they can’t exhibit blue blood and family trees on demand, know a lot about sheep, and in country districts, these find a hearty welcome. Then again, lonesOmS folk always feel much happier if there’s a dog to bark, “Good-night” to them. Ono door opens for the stray dog as another closes. Sudden death isn’t half so common in the canine World as it used to be'.

If you will choose a large, redsashed, yellow-jacketed, purple-capped pirate for your stage vis-a-vis, you’re going to have your work cut out to make your costume more effective than his. But the frocks of the pretty maids in the “Pirates of Penzance ■’ were all that is attractive. Miss Julie Worry, as Mabel, had a lovely gown of pale blue brocaded satin, a soft little fichu crossed over the bodice, and the skirt falling straight and long to end in frills which touched the floor. Her bonnet was blue, and altogether, she made one admit that the Victorian maiden’s attire was pretty, if not practical.

Miss Eileen Anderson s rose-colour-ed gown was of satin, and her poke bonnet was a charming little headdress. Miss Lee Swan was in a pencilcoloured gown and bonnet, and Mrs Leo Campion was in true pirate colours of red, yellow and black. The chorus made its first curtsey in the dainty frocks that Grannie used to wear, and the little frilled skirts and shady bonnets were all such as would make the modern lass sigh for the fashions of fifty years ago. The second act, where “nighties” were formal wear for the ladies of the chorus, was also quaint and effective, and the contrast between the very adequate night wear of those days, and to-day's wisps of gowns, was an amusing one. His Majesty the Baby The little City , baby, Robert for short, who will be able to remember all the days of his life that he, and none other, topped the lists in the Plunket Carnival, has thanks due to an energetic committee, who thought up every way of fund-raising known to woman, and who didn’t in the least mind devoting theil houses and gardens to the good cause. Everybody’s just a trifle tired of parties, for the time being, and nobody will be quite safe in mentioning the word 4 ‘bridge” for w#*eks to come. By the way, three interesting little competitions held by the City baby’s committee were won by Miss N. Gillies, Miss O. Hodder, and Mrs A. Walpole. Mrs Walpole carried off the vase, Miss Gillies the cake, and Miss Hodder the picture.

Having procured your dog. the next thing is to see that he is perfectly hale and hearty. And sooner or later, you are pretty sure to make the acquaintance of that wise person, the “vet.” In Wellington, the “Chronicle” reporter explored an interesting place described by a large notice board as ‘‘Canine Hospital,” and learned something of the soft spot which the world keeps in its heart for a good dog. A tiny orange •Pekingese lay in a basket, her brown eyes filled with deep content, and also with pride. She was a very important personage, and w'ell she knew it. Four diminutive creatures, hardly bigger than mice, sleekhaired, and with their eyes tightly closed, rent the air with funny little squeaks with weren’t so far from a newborn baby’s protests about the unpleasantness of life. The little lady was quite well aware that a telegram had been sent announcing the safe arrival of the heirs to her estate. And privately, she herself thought that the four wore very fine pups. An old Airedale, out in the yard, looked far from pleased when the vet. drilled one of his back teeth. But dentistry among dogs can be painless, and an injection of cocaine soothed his troubled breast Considerably: also, it made for a little safety for the vet., whoso logs had seemed something of a temptation to his indignant patent.

The ladies who worked so well on the Town baby’s committee were Mrs F. Taiboys, Mrs Barton, Mrs Wilberfoss, Mrs Blyth, Mrs H. Keesing, Mrs Dr Wall, Mrs C. Ross, Airs Cutfield, Mrs Welsh, Airs Meredith, Miss Stanford and Miss Rockel.

Anaesthetics are quite commonly used in eases where a dog, just like a human being, is suffering too much pain to lie still and behave itself. An old collie limped up. very sorry for himself, his paw in plaster. He knew, now, that nice dogs don’t run in front of motor ears and bark.

Oldtime Dancing, There’s to be an exhibition of oldtime dancing by some of the small pupils of a well-known Wanganui teacher of the light and fantastic art, when the Orange League Social and Dance, which is dated for Thursday next at Harman’s Hall comes round. Young ladies in the sixes and sevens class look their very best as wee Victorians or pantalette girls, and, though the full details of the programme aren’t known, something very dainty is expected.

A lady vet., Miss Mabel Christmas by name, runs a modle kennel in Wellington where gentlemen boarders, from beautiful white Sayomedes to curly-tailed pugs, are taken and cared for. Frequently a dog can’t be packed into one’s cabin trunk and taken on holiday, and Miss Christmas sees that such forlorn pets have a cheery time. Her unusual profession has proved a great success, though she had to see every local body but the Fire Brigade before she could get permission to build the kennels: but the Council has grown used to her, and now she overturns the established order of things by lecturing to country farmers on tho care of stock.

Miss Lucie Broadhead is to judge the costumes of all coiners —oldtime wear, remember, is the thing for —and everybody is reminded that the Fraud March will start at 9 p.m.

Air and Airs H. Temple, of Wellington, have been visiting Wanganui, and have now gone on to Waipukarau.

Air and Afrs R. Gardner visited Hamilton for the golf, and have now returned to Wanganui. Air and Airs K. W. Robinson are visiting Auckland. Miss Joyce Card, who was the guest of Airs Henry Smith, has returned to Napier. Mr and Mrs G. W. Sinclair are visiting Wellington. Miss I. Boyce is attending the Trained Nurses’ Association Conference in Auckland. Miss V. Haise, Afarton, is in Wanganui. Airs J. Kirkcaldie, of Wellington, is in Wanganui. ENGAGEMENT CHASE—POAD The engagement is announced of Winifred, younger daughter of Air E. Chase, of Crofton, Afarton, to Leslie, youngest son of Airs J. Poad, of Castlecliff, A PLEASANT PARTY A charming evening was given by Mrs and Afr C 11. Petersen at the residence of Afrs and Afr Linssen, for the coming of age of their eldest daughter Avice. A delightful time was spent with dancing and games, those present being:—Airs and Air Peterson, Mrs and Afr Linssen, Afisses L. Petersen, R. Carvel), T. Durie, J. Cundy, I. Robbins, M. Long, L. Long, N Igglcsdon, E. AW/on, Af. Coster, P. and Af. Petersen; Afessrs K. Kitney, AV. Peak, Af. Swallow, J. Bolton, L. Robertson, O. Peak, T. Aiteheson, W. Hambly, H Grover, Pownall, R. Coxon, R. Linssen.