Under Current.

Waikato Times, Volume 106, Issue 17804, 31 August 1929, Page 6

Under Current.

IN THE DRIFT OF LIFE

(Ey “Seeker.”)'

WALKING WARILY. “Ah, those were the days,” said Dad, after attending the old settlers dinner. He has not yet reached the age at which you become so proud of your years that you don’t mind if anyone adds half a dozen to your tally, hut he talks about the ’eighties as the old days. “Coaching and fording flooded rivers and riding over bridle tracks, with a drop Into nothing beneath you, as straight as a beggar can spit—as Kipling would say. I remember Charlie Archibald used to take a delight in riding along those breakneck places, and I’d crawl after him, leading the pony and clinging to anything that gave a bold. And now, look at Charlie. He was roaring to me the other day about what he thought of this apprentice law, and I told him to let loose in the paper or at Rotary or somewhere, but he wouldn’t—no use running your head against a brick wall—would get up against other employers—best to be diplomatic. . Isn’t it wonderful how people’s courage oozes as they get old and tied up with all sorts of concerns.”

“But, my dear," said Aunt Selina, “I think -it's wonderful the courago people have these days. "Why, it’s almost as dangerous to cross the street as it used to be to walk along the edge of a precipice. And look at Hie scandalous tilings people will do these days without a blush—tho Bishop actually riding a motor bike!” “the Bishop’s the exception that proves the rule. You get nine men out of ten, and they’re afraid to open their mouths about things, and so we get the ’ country run by a lot of blatherskites and blockheads.”

"Oil, William!" “I’m not saying that men are coldfooted. They’d do the grandest tilings in the war—and most of them without any thought of an M.C. or a V.G. or a mention in despatches. They'd do what was expected of them there and take twice the risks they need and not look for any kudos, but bore at home—Hie -dry rot—oh, gosh, we ought all to get back to the rough bills and the bridle tracks along the cliffs, I’m thinking.” “That’s not a bad idea,” said Jack, as be finished off his plum pudding. “Let all the old men go out pioneering for a year and the young ones show them how to run tilings. Tho boss would come back with a new vision of tilings if he’d had to swim through a few floods and bluff past a snorting, pawing, screaming bull, as Dad used to do in bis young days." “No, I never boasted that,” said Dad. “It was your Uncle Sid that used to bluff them, and I’d come crawling after, expecting every minute to feel those horns through the seat of my pants. Poor old Sid —not much better’n a tramp now—always a hard case. Seems as though pluck is at a discount in this old world of business."

"Yes, yes, even the women—many of them —are getting out of the way of living dangerously now that babies are out of fashion,” said Aunt Selina. “In the old days a girl took two risks —tiic risk of' being married and having a family and the risk of becoming an old maid. And you didn't know which was worse. Nowadays, the girls seem to look forward to being gay ‘bachelor girls’ or gay married women without any risks or encumbrances. Oh, no, not all, of course. I’m exaggerating horribly, but I’m wondering whether we wouldn’t keep our courage better if we-all bad to share the risks and the burdens more. Look at that miner the other day—went along under where tons of coal were falling to rescue his mate. Send some of'those scary business men of yours down into the mines for a spell, William. Do them good, wouldn’t it?” “Wouldn’t do me any harm, either —what?" tf * # * LOOKING FOR A BOY. The brightest part of the “Home Drivel” type of magazine is often to he found in the column devoted to answering the queries of the heartsick. The difficulties of irrevocable choice between two or more swains, tlie still greater difficulties of attracting and retaining a swain at all, aro the familiar province of Auntie Ermyntrude. But Auntie surpassed herself in a recent number of an English magazine. “I am twenty-one," reads a melancholy note, “and have never had a hoy. . . . How many years do you suppose I have wasted?” To which Auntie consolingly replies that she hasn’t wasted any (which is probably true), and adds that her correspondent might remedy her omission by joining “a tennis club, an amateur theatrical society, or the junior league of one of the political parties.” Alas, these degenerate days I In the good old times it was the recognised function of the churches to give lassies a chance to “set their bonnets” at eligible laddies. Arc the churches being superseded?

FOOLHARDY. This week's mail from England brings news of a man who was sentenced to a year’s imprisonment for getting money by “confidence tricks,” and the report states that in approaching Ills victims he represented himself as a journalist. Marvel of marvels, lie found a few people ready to/trust a journalist! lie must have men a master of the “con.” game. / Kt * # * THE LAW OF THE KILT. The Kilt Society of Inverness, it is announced, is about to issue “authoritative regulations on how to wear the dress correctly.” Car. it-be that the old habit of twisting the thing round one’s waist and buckling it there is being departed from? Breathes there a man with soul so dead as -to hang it round his neck and use It as an improvised macintosh, or, having punched holes in it for his arms, as a kind of jerkin? Or is it merely that some neophyte chieftain has offended the purists of the society by getting his pleats to the front, hanging his sporran over his hip and using his skean dim as a toothpick? Details should he interesting.