DAY BY DAY.

Wairarapa Daily Times, Volume LXIII, Issue 9894, 26 January 1911, Page 4

DAY BY DAY.

The Position Reversed

Some American writer has been predicting, that the outcome of the present attitude aud course of action of Labour, by a process of evolution, will he that a few generations hence people will be striKing for longer hours and more work I Adversity, it is said, makes one acquainted with strange bedfellows, aud evolution makes you see some strange developments. Will the present state of things land us in a worse state than that from which the workers are now emerging?

The End cf It All

Not very long was it before Horry Lyon followed his pal, the popular A. J. Johnson, of aquatic secretarial fame, and formerly secretary to the Charitable Aid Board. Death has thus removed two familiar faces from Wellington. The late Horry Lyon's geniality was dashed with a pleasant cynicism, but he was of a kindly disposition aud an incurable Bohemian. One would have wished him a more peaceful end, but it is a consolation to know that it was instantaneous.

Burning Tears

A band of Suffragettes in Loudon the other day were unexpectedly acquitted ou a charge of assaulting Mr Winston Churchill; no duubt it was owing to that gentleman's own intercession. They were all very vexed at such a termination to the affair, for with the acquittal every trace of the aureole of martyrdom vanished. But one of them was more than vexed ; she was frantic, for before "going forth to war" (being sure that she was to go to gaol) she had let her house furnished for a month ! Imagine the tears of rage of the baffled virago.

Roberto il Diavolo

The holy calm of our establishment was broken in upon yesterday, by the iutrusiou of a blue-clad minion of the law. The purity aud steadiness of life which characterise the newspaper tribe are so well kuown, that the entrance of Robert occasioned some surprise, not to say consternation. Were we harbouring in our midst a fugitive from justice? The editorial stall' stood their ground, the commercial staff dispered, one bolting out into the back-yard and others hiding uuder the counter. The "chapel" broke up m disorder, the office-boy took a header into space, aud the offioe-cat leaped out of window, while the machinist backed into the eugine-room. Meanwhile, the officer, eyeing us all darkly, explained that lie had come to "enrol us on the jury list." Then a profound joint sigh of relief, in volume equal to all Wirth's menagerie, went up from the combmed forces, aud henceforth the visit was a pleasant interval " Got Any Beans ?" We have several times beeu asked this question, which is, of course, a direct aud blunt inquisition into our financial condition; but the question has not been put with any such unseemly curiosity. It has beeu given to us as a philological poser. What was the origin of the expressive bit of slang? We puzzled over it till we had an inspiration—no _ar.ur than yesterday. In readiug a magaz ;ie article in which reference was made to the "partition dcs biens" which will take place wheu the .Liberals have attained the height of power. Here is the solution of the puzzle! The French "biens," which may mean possessions, goods, "means," chattels, etc., has been corrupted into "beans" in the slang vocabulary. We take credit to ourselves for a new discovery in philology. Why should not "beaus" he a corruption, just as "apple pie order" is a corruption of cap-a-pied?

"The Simple Life"

Another very modest, but very distinguished scholar, familiar to Cambridge students, was J. E. B. Mayor, Regius Professor of Latin, who has just died at the age of nearly 90. Since 1884 he has been President of the Vegetarian Society, and ho was as ardent a champion of the simple life, as he was the stern censor of social extravagances. He had as much contempt for money-grubbing as for gambling, aud he lived ou fruit,unleavened bread,aud soup. His actual nutrition cost him about 2d a day. We can but admire a lofty soul like tins, but then "the simple life" is so possible in a comfortable academic seclusion, passed in congenial society aud pursuits, and where there is no "carking care." One can hardly look for it in the toiling and moiling crowds, elbowing one another out of the way.

The Touch of the Angelic

A cumnaou hyperbole is involved iv calling a woman "an angel," that infatuated lovers are guilty of, especially in tha calf-stage; but sometimes we do meet with women who have a touch of the angelio rhat places them nearer to the Divine than we cau ever hope to be iv this life. One of them was laid to rest quite recently, the venerable I'loreuue Nightingale, and now the little sisterhood of these, rare souls, has - been further diminished by the death of Angelica Patience Eraser, who died, single, at the age of 87. More than half a century ago severe disappointment, instead of demoralising her as it too often does inferior minds, merely exemplified the Shakespearian maxim "Sweet are tlie uses of adversity," for she there and then vowed to devote her life to the welfare of > a section of humanity. Anglica Patience Fraser chose the tailors as the object of her ministrations. In Aberdeen, her native place,

and afterwards in London, she was the friend of the poor journeymen of the board, wheu they had indeed few friends. To-day, thoy, like other workers, are enjoying the blessings accompanying freedom, and they need no more the humble visitor who used to look in upon them in their dingy, stuffy shops, but her name will never he entirely forgotten. The Jate King Edward sent her a brooch ou her 87th birthday with a letter expressing his appreciation of her philanthropy. A life so lived is not in vain!

Prince Eugene

The affairs of the Netherlands recall to mind the now almost forgotten, but historio, figure of Prince Eugene. It is a wonder that in the age of heroworship, tho memory of this true hero was not kept green. 'Probably the semi-obscurity or his birth (he belonged to the house of Savoy, but exactly whose son he was is not entirely certain—it is a wise child, etc.), and the great genius of our own Marlborough, whose colleague he was for some time, combined to relegate him to a back seat. And yet he was great and good, aud the halo of romance was about him. He was intended for the Church, but his mind was ever straying in the delightful paths of history, and he longea to play apart in the great campaign of life. The Grand Mouarque, who very seldom made mistakes in his choice of men, made a great blunder wheu Eugene waited upou him, and ottered his services. He was a soldier of fortune ("the world's mine oyster, which I with sword will open"), and so that he might become a,leader of men, he cared very little what men they were. But Louis the 14th could not see the burning ardour that lay beneath that beardless face; ho saw only a diminutive little youth, perhaps a trifle awkward in the presence of the greatest Sovereign in Europe of that day; and Louis laughingly told him he had better stink to tho cowl of a monk. Eugene retired from the audience chamber rebuffed but not discouarged, and it was not long before the King bitterly regretted his action, for the little Eugene, entering the service of Au«tria, sprang at once to the front as a leader. Against Germany, against France, against Turkey —in fact, wherever au euemy was to be met—Eugene fought, aud inspired others to light. His ascendancy over his men, dwarfish as he was. was Napoleonic, but his mind was of purer quality than Napoleon's. Against Turkey he performed prodigies of valour, and in Marlborough's campaigns Eugene showed himself (next to Marlborough) tho greatest general of the age. Yet this fine soldier's light went out in the dimness of oblivion.