Under Evrrents

Waikato Times, Volume 105, Issue 17786, 10 August 1929, Page 6

Under Evrrents

IN THE DRIFT OF LIFE

(By “Seeker.”)'

THE BURDEN OF PLEASURE. “I’m afraid we’ve nothing for yo« to c - 1 —only some cold beef," said Aunt Selina, when Uncle Lucerne Hay turned up unexpectedly for Sunday dinner. "We’ve had such a busy week we’re just taking things easy to-day." “Busy!” said Uncle. “I thought it was only on the farm that folk had to sweat. But don't mind me. 111 enjoy anything after getting frozen in church. I just had the chance.to run in. You know, Jack came out for the week-end, and he offered to help with the feeding-out this morning, so I thought I’d come into town and hear a good sermon —and it was good. Where’s Gwen?” “Oh, she’s not up yet." “Not up—and nearly .1 o’clock. And we get up at four.” “That’s about the time Gwen has been getting to bed some nights. Oh, here she is now. Gwen, Uncle is wondering what you can possibly find to do to make you tired when you haven’t any cows to milk or muddy floors to scrub or pigs to feed or children to send to school.” “Hello, Uncle," said Gwen. "Excuse me yawning-’’ “Well, well, I used to be that way myself sometimes when I was courting. Lizzie lived 15 miles away over the ranges, and I used to get home any hour of the morning.” “I’m not courting,” said Gwen wearily. “Well, what on earth do you do?" “Oh, I went to Auckland last weekend, and the car broke down and \\& got’home about three in the morning. It was awful good fun, though. On Monday night there was bridge at Ethel’s, the dance at the Kittlewells’ on Tuesday, and that pussy old meeting on Wednesday. • Thursday the Shakespeare Club’s reading—really, they’re lovely. You ought to come in some time and hear them. Uncle. I’ll - take you along. Alice took me to the pictures on Friday, and Aunt came too. It was quite like having a chaperone—and we had a lovely oyster supper after. It was the long night at the dance last night. I really didn’t feel inclined to get up so soon." “So soon! One o’clock! Well; that’s what I call rich,” said Uncle, chuckling. “But I must go to Bible Glass this afternoon,” Gwen went on calmly,' “and I'm going to spend the evening with Rachel Rotherham. She’s had a nervous breakdown, you know. By the way, how’s Dorothy Briggs, Uncle?” (Gwen remembered her farmwife friend who had been sent from her lonely, muddy farm to a sanatorium.) “Still at the sanatorium, but I hear she’s got a hope after all. Putting on weight now." “How lovely I I must write her again.” “But I say, Gwen, you’re not looking just in the pink yourself. How about coming out to the farm for a rest? You could go to bed at eight or nine o’clock, you know. Don’t want you having a breakdown, you know.” Gwen explained that stocktaking was just coming on at the office, and she had promised to perform at two dances, and she wanted to help Grace get her trousseau ready, and . . . Dad came in at this point, and they settled down to the cold lunch. “Seems to me Gwen and Selina w T ork 100 hard,” said Uncle. “Why don’t you live on a farm and have a bit of time to yourselves?” “Live on a farm I” Gwen was roused at last. “And work ourselves to death like Dorothy Briggs.” “Seems to me you're working yourself to death anyway. She had to get up when the cows came In in the wee hours of the morning. You go to bed at that time. I’m wondering which is the harder.” Dad (who had the Sunday grumps) remarked, “And the people 'hat get up and milk the cows have something to show for it. There you are, yawning still." Gwen hastened to cut short her yawn. “Have another cup of tea, Uncle,” said Aunt Selina. “What a raw morning it has been- Really it’s a funny old world. What a pity things are not better divided. Mrs Branigan’s ill again, William. I’ll have to have the baby back. And Gwen, you really must get to bed earlier. I can’t keep the little thing quiet after seven o’clcok in the morning.” “Oh, all right,” said Gwen, yawning again. “Yes, Uncle, I think I will come to the farm soon for a rest among the mud and mortgages."

EAST AND WEST. “But there is neither East nor West, border nor breed nor birth, when two strong men stand face to face, though they come from the ends'of the earth-” The poet’s words come to mind as a reflection on the cabled report of a drowning tragedy a f a Bombay seaside suburb. A woman was drowning. Her husband went lo the rescue and was soon in difficulties himself. Two other men went to help him. All four were drowned. They were Parsces. East and West, we arc all kin. We all hope that in like circumstances we would do as those Parsecs. And yet there are people who will tell you that “never the twain shall meet." Tue “Seeker’s” first experience with a Parsee happened to be most unpleasant. He was a ridiculously bumptious little man, and he lied without the least conscience. But you don’t judge a race by one individual. There was another Parsee who had a delightful impulsive generosity, and he showed it in a remarkable way.- A rotter from America had brought' a team of girls to play baseball in the Far East. They played badly and the venture did not pay. The girls—quite decent young people—were left stranded. People were wondering what to do with them. A Parsee just put down the whole of the money to send them back home. It ran into a few thousand pounds, If I remember rightly. Anu just about that lime a prominent Indian was forbidden to land in America.

NOT SO DAFT. A good story is one of an Irish bricklayer’s labourer who was sent by a humorist to look for a “round / square.” After half-an-hour’s naturally unsuccessful search, a man asked what he was looking for. On being told, the other man-kaid: “You should have known there is no such thing as a ‘ round square.’ ” “I do,” was the reply, “but it’s easier looking for one than carrying hninj.- a uo a ladder I’’ .