HERE AND THERE.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXIV, Issue 5, 4 February 1905, Page 14

HERE AND THERE.

In Scotland Gaelic is still the language of more than 200,000 persons. Indeed. 30,000 people can speak and understand no other tongue. In Lewis, for instance, out of a population of 29,000, no fewer than 10,000 speak Gaelic only. St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, which has entered on a new era in its long life since the King laid the foundationstone of the. new wing, is the oldest of London hospitals, and has quite a romantic origin. Little grains of powder, Little gobs of paint. Make a girl’s complexion Look like what it ain't. The “Westminster Gazette” reports the ease of an English officer who was stationed for two years at Cairo, and who never took the trouble to go out to look at the pyramids. In explaining his failure to see those landmarks of progress, he said: “What with polo and parties and bridge and cricket, I never had a minute to myself.” At the beginning of the 12th century, when Henry L was on the throne, there was at Court a famous jester, Rahere by name, who had been a companion of Hereward the Wake, the last of the Saxons, a shrewd fellow, a keen wit, and a 'bon viva nt, who took no thought of the morrow. But as he grew 7 older his conscience began to trouble him, and nothing could appease its qualms but a pilgrimage to Rome. Commander Brownson, of the United States Navy, tells of a German, a recruit in the naval service, who, during a certain watch, was in accordance with the regulations calling the hours. “Sefen bells and all iss veil!” called the German correctly enough. Those who heard the next call were much astonished by this amusing variation: “Eight bells and all iss not veil! I haf droppit my hat overpoard’” Two dusky small boys were quarrelling; one was pouring forth a volume of vituperous epithets, while the other leaned against a fence* and calmly contemplated him. When the flow of language was exhausted he said: “Are you troo?” “.yes.” “You ain’t got nullin’ more to say?” “No.” “Well, all dem tings what you called me you is.” Representative McCleary, of Minnesota, enjoys telling stories of the time when he was a teacher in a public school of that State, remarks “Collier’s.” “One day,” says Mr McCleary, “during a lesson in grammar, my pet study. I hade one of my pupils to give me a sentence in the indicative mood. He did so, in the following words: “ ‘The horse draws the waggon.’ “ ‘Very good.’ said I. ‘Now’ change the sentence' to a neat imperative.’ ‘ “‘Git up!’ was the logical rejoinder.” Mrs Brown had trained a new Chin-ese-servant to wait on the door by getting her daughter. Miss Brown, to ring the hell and present her card. Next afternoon the bell rang and the Chinaman waited on the door. A lady presented her card. The Chinese servant, took her card, then pulling out of his sleeve a card such as Miss Brown had presented the afternoon before, carefuHy compared t’he two. He then haibded(laick to the lady her card exclaiming. “Tivkee no matchee; no can come in!” and shut the door. My lady’s fancy is-dlyjned By no poor reasoning of man. r Light as the silken cords that bind , My lady's fan. Idly to-night she seemed to scan j The crowded ballroom, disinclined To heed the pray’r which I began. Yet now*, the mocking eyes are kind The powtiiig lips appro to my plan; And bo -the rest In bid behind My lady’* faa.

We do not know much about his journey, but at Rome he fell ill, and, being in dread of death, he made a vow that if he recovered, and was enabled to return home, he would build a hospital. As a matter of fact, he had not wealth enough to build a pig-stye. It did not trouble him in the least. De got well, and being well, travelled back home, and went about his daily affairs, untroubled by any thoughts of his vow. I wrote of Love with swiftly-moving pen — The Love of women and the Love of men. Heal hearts I put within my shadow-folk. And real the tears they wept, the words they spoke. But that was yesterday; to-day I can No longer think of men, blit of a man. Behold, my pen Is dry, uninked my thumb: Dear Love has come to me— and 1 am dumb. “The Silencer,” by V. If. Friedlander. Mr Richard Whiteing, author of those striking stories "No. 5 John-street” and “The Island,’’ tells in the first number of the “Albany Magazine” bow he became an author. In his case, as in so many others, it was the fact of seeing a trifle of his own in print that made the spark turn to a blaze. lie says:— “Now the desire to write became overmastering. .It was a time of . strong measures, so I threw up the calling, borrowed a. ten-pound note, took a front garret—only as a workshop, for I still lived at home—and secretly began to lay siege to the magazines.” Just a moment in the doorway Paused Elizabeth to wait. While she asked with eharm bewitching, “Is my hat on straight ?” Then we sauntered forth together, 1 so happy and (date, I could scarce refrain from asking, “Is my head on straight?” But one night he realised what he had undertaken to do. As ho himself afterwards put it, St. Bartholomew appeared to him in a vision, reminded him of his vow, and (minted out Smithfield as a desirable site. It was then a neglected spot, outside the city walls, and, having an unsavoury reputation, -it was of no great value. Henry, who probably regarded it as a jest, promptly gave Rahere the amount of land he wanted, and so he set to work. Rahere was a curious fellow; full or resource, and having no money to provide workmen, he hit upon a singular expedient.

The oldest author—Adame. The youngest\authoi—Child. Thetired-looking author— Haggard. The fragile author—Reade.” ' The pugilist’s author—Knox. , <■ The warrior’s author—,shakes peart. The jeweller’s author—Goldsmith. The domestic author —Holmes. . The woodland author—Hawthorne. The painful author—Bunyan. , The heated author—Burns. 1 ’ The breakfast author—Bacon. / The cricketing author—Fielding.

In those day the King’s jesters wore their motley at home and abroad, and Rahere, going out on his newly-ac-quired estate, started the loafers around carrying stone and mixing mortar as a jest. There was in these days always a large amount of building material available for anyone who cared to take it away in the old buildings and crumbling walls of the city. He threw so much humour into the thing that crowds collected and joined in, entering so heartily into the joke that soon a church and priory was raised up, and Rahere installed himself as Prior.

Mr. Thomas Hardy, who seems to Inive abandoned fiction for verse, contributes to the "Pall Mall Magazine” a poem of two stanzas, called “The Fann Woman’s Winter.” It is not a striking specimen of the great novelist’s poetry. This is the first stanza:

“If seasons were all summers. Ami leaves would never fall. Ami hopping easement comers Were foodless not at all. And fragile folk might be here That white winds bid depart, □'hen one I used to see hero Would warm my wasted heart.”

“The originality, of some of your expressions is very, very refreshing,” said John Morley, the visiting English statesman, in speaking of his observations. “As I was standing at one of the entrances to your new Subway in New York, a man passed me who apparently had gone through the demoralising experience of being part of a jostling, energetic crowd. His companion asked him, ’Well, how do you feel now, after going through the tunnel ?’ f “ J feel as the porker must feel,’ answered the man. pushing a few dents out of his hat, ‘who lias just been forced through a sausage skin.’ ” —“Harper’s Weekly.”

Science, which is explaining everything, has now accounted for the queer little nervous shiver that comes upon one now and then without apparent cause. It is generally put down as “someone walking over my grave.” Actually we are told it is the effect of electricity. This great power is constantly being generated everywhere, and when the positive and negative parts of the power meet they produce a shock on any living thing. There is a good deal of electricity in the air, and when the human body is made a meeting point the sensation is liable to be felt about the region of the spine. Some people are liable to shocks now’ and then in special parts of them, in the ankle, for instance, or very commonly round the base of the brain. There is no harm in it, but it shows a rather highly-strung organisation.

At tHnner one day in an American leetaurant some men were discussing Che merits of different-.species of game. One preferred- canv*sl*ek duck, another .woodcock, and still another thought a quail the most delicious article of food. The discwsion and the dinner ended at ■bout the same time. , /‘Well, Frank," said one of the men. turning to the waiter at his elbow, who ,was as good a listener as he was a waiter, “what kind of game do you like best?" “Well, massa, to tell you the trufe, almost v any kind of game’ll suit me. but what 1 like best is an American eagle served on a silver dollar.”

When the velocity of a steamship's ■crew is increased above a certain limit, a eavity is formed in the water, inside which the screw revolves. This means that any further increase of power ean cause no increase of the vessel’s speed. “Cavitation” is the name applied to this phenomenon, which has lately come to be recognised as one of the most important causes of loss of efficiency in the driving screws of steamships. It has been shown that cavitation can be avoided by preserving a certain ratio between the resistance and the "propelling surface. Upon this principle, the speed of some vessels has been greatly increased by changing their driving screws.

Everything concerning Poe and his writings is interesting. Mr'. John IT. Ingram gives the following account in the “'Athenaeum” of the genesis and evolution of “The Bells”: “The poem consisted of 17 lines only at first, and as the subject and some sentences of it had been suggested by his friend Mrs. Shew, Poe headed the draft ‘The Bells, by Mrs. M. L. Shew.’ Twice Poe revised the poem, sending it each time to the ‘Union Magazine’; but being unable to get it published, lie revised it a third time, and, greatly enlarged, again forwarded it to the same publication, wherein it appeared in October 1849, a few days before its author’s death. It now consists of 113 lines.”

Mark Twain, who wrote a book on Joan of Arc some time ago. has contriy buted an article on the French heroine and saint to the .Christmas number of “Harper’s Monthly. Magazine.” The humourist has great admiration for Joan, of whom he writes in the most eulogistic strain. He concludes as follows: “Taking into account, as I have suggested before, all the circumstances —her origin, youth, sex. illiteracy, early environment, and the obstructing condition under which she exploited her high gifts, and made her conquests in the field, and before the courts that tried her for her life—she is easily', and by far the most extraordinary person the human race has ever produced.”

An Australian artist, recently in England, tells a. story of the late Phil May not previously published. One day Bertram Mackennal, the Australian sculptor, was showing Phil May several claysketches he had made for a group of statuary. “I have been studying this for the past week,” said Mackennal. ’ and I’m uncertain whether it would not improve the composition to place a cherub at the feet of the female figure.” “I wouldn’t do that,” said May; “I think it

would be irreligious.’* Mackennal looked mystified, for May had never previously any indications of severe Puritan- . ism. • "As far as I can remember my Sunday-school studies.” continued May, is one of the deadliest sins to try and add a Cupid to your statue." When first I met sweet Norah, • Ah<l vowed her love to win, I bought a heart-shaped locket To put her portrait in. But when she did refuse me. With, proud and haughty mien, I took out Norah’s portrait, And put in Geraldine. My hold on her affections A rival did displace: My locket then did duty For Caroline’s sweet face. Rut Carrie, too, proved faithless; Her photograph I burned. And to my homely Mary For consolation turned. And I’m to marry Mary. But. ah! my locket holds The face of pretty Dorcas. Within its secret folds. Dear Mary is so trusting, She’ll never know, I ween, Or Norah, pretty Carrie, Dorcas, or Geraldine. —“The Docket,” by J. A. Middleton. Life is made up of humorous happenings and other things, mostly other things. A butcher’s driver and a baker’s ditto, who made regular incursions into the country just outside an Australia tour, met the other day, when there were certain esoteric suggestions made about the product of the hop. They left their carts outside a hostelry, and abandoned themselves unresistingly to the enjoyment of the hour. By the time the sun had gone to rest, they were in that condition when people are ready to exchange vows of eternal brotherhood with persons they never saw before. The hotelkeeper placed them on their vehicles, and an hour later a master butcher was considerably astounded on finding that his employee had brought home a strange turn out, and a number of stale loaves of bread, while the baker was as equally surprised on discovering that his travelling bakery had been turned into a meat van. The British and Foreign Bible Society is involved in a curious dispute with the Ottoman Government over the sale of Bibles at Uskub, in Macedonia, by agents of the society. It is not that tilie Turkish authorities fear the sale will aid sedition or spread disaffection among the subjects of the Porte, hut that the Bibles are sold at “ridiculously low prices,” and that therefore the sale partakes of the character of propaganda. The cheapest Bi’bles are sold at a sum which represents 3/1 in English money. This is not the first time that the society hiLS had a dispute with the Porte. Bast year the request was gravely made that the words in Acts, “Come over into .Macedonia and help us,” silmuld bo altered into, “Come over into the vilayets of Salonika and Monastir and help us.”. The Turkish Government professed to fear that the words as they stood might be interpreted as an invitation to help the insurgents! The British Fnrbassy at Constantinople lias entered a strong protest against the action of the Porte.

It is remarkable that, though builtin such a haphazard way. some of this old cobble building exists to the present day. The original > hospital was part of the Priory. It must be reme.nibered that hospitals in t'Jiose days were different from wiliat we.kno* as hospitals, they more nearly approximated to almshouses. But the sick and maimed were carried for treatment to the 'monastic establishments, the monks ■being the only people versed in medicines, simples, and the barbarous surgery of the Middle Ages, and it is from these small beginnings that hospitals ■have grown. St. Bartholomew's is one of the few that have had a continuous existence from the time of the monks. It is the oldest and most famous hospital in the world. Harvey, who discovered the circulation of blood, was for 34 years a physician there; and its lecturers included Abernethy and Richard Owen, the latter “the greatest anatomist of his age.”

A lively-looking porter stood on the rear platform of a sleeping-car in the Pennsylvania station when a fussy and choleric old man clambered up the steps. He stopped at the door, puffed for a moment, and then turned to the young man in uniform.

“Porter,” he said, “I’m going to St. Louis, to the Fair. I want to bo well taken care of. 1 pay for it. Do you understand’” “Yes, sir, but ”

“Never mind any ‘huts.’ You listen to what t say. KeKep the train boys away from me. Dust me off whenever 1 want you to. Give me an extra blanket, and if there is any one in the berth over me slide him into another. 1 want you to- ” “But, say, boss, I ” “Young man, when I’m giving instructions I prefer to do the talking myself. You do as 1 say. Here is a two-dollar bill. I want to get the good of it. Not a word, sir.” The train was starting. The porter pocketed the bill with a grin, and swung himself to the ground. “All right, boss!” he shouted. “You can do the talking if you want to. I’m powerful sorry you wouldn’t let me tell you—but I ain’t going out on that train.’* Report of an interesting surgical operation recorded in New York “Sun”: I would most respectfully draw the attention of men of science, as well as the leading surgeons of the day, to an operation performed by a non-practising friend on the dearly beloved companion of his little girl. One of the patient’s lovely blue eyes disappeared altogether. A black and horrible chasm marked the spot formerly occupied by the brilliant orb; and where had it gone? It had not fallen out. that was quite clear, for, if yon gave the sufferer ever so gentle a shake, you could hear distinctly the loose eye rattling inside her skull. It was a ease demanding extreme care and deliberation. With a piece of fishing line formed into a loop, and inserted into the cavity, he endeavoured literally to fish for and secure the fugitive eye. For some time he pursued this mode of treatment, but with success. Thin he trepanned with a corkscrew. With his penknife he afterward cut away por-

Lion of the skull. Through the opening thus effected, which formed, in fact, a sorb of trap door, he was enabled to regain the eye; and soon afterward, by moans of glue judiciously applied, t* fix it in its right position. A little brown paper and more glue restored tile skull and the —in point of fact—-wig to theif former state. No anaesthetic was used.

A Danish judge named Sverstrup, whose district was one of the suburbs of Copenhagen, had a peasant before him charged with a grave assault. The peasant pleaded not guilty, ami the only evidence against him was t he affirmation of his alleged victim and a somewhat flimsy web of circumstantial evidence. Judge Sverstrup was convinced of the man’s guilt, but this was not sufficient in itself to procure conviction. Sumo time ago Judge Sverstrup. on a visit to Sweden, witnessed the performances ot a thought-reader named Bror Sundeen, and the thought occurred to him to confront Sundeen with the suspected peasant. When Sundeen received the summons of the judge to repair to Copenhagen he was immensely flat lord. On an appointed day the peasant, who was still in gaol, was visited by the judge and the thought-reader. The judge warned him that he was in the presence of one who could follow the winding of all his thoughts, and from whom no secrets were hidden. The peasant for a time braved it out, but Sundeen began to tell him particulars of the outrage he had committed, and fixed him with an extraordinary basilisk gaze, the peasant broke down and confessed his guilt. Judge Sverstrup was delighted with the success of bis experiment, and has since been deluging Hie Danish legal journals with articles advocating the employment of thought-readers in criminal eases, where the prisoner, apparently guilty, pleads not guilty. Fresh water reservoirs are always more or less infested with minute water weeds, most of which are not attached, but float freely in the liquid. At times they accumulate enormously, and almost microscopic forms may be so common as to render the waler quite turbid. Then perhaps for some reason the greater number of them die off and decompose, giving rise to a bad smell. Occasionally the whole seservoir is affected, and those whose memories carry them back some five and twenty years will remember the appalling odour given off by. the tapwater in Melbourne (says the “Argus”). Only the more courageous could face a. shower-bath, and no one knows what total abstainers drank at the time. A few years later t he lakes of the Western district of Victoria were similarly, affected, and the whole country was filled with the, peculiar stale smell. Fish died in thousands, and added their quota to the trouble. The inhabit ants attributed the smell very generally to the escape of volcanic gases, but there was no. need for that explanation of it. Messrs. Moore and Kellerman, of the U.S. Department of Agriculture, have tackled the difficult problem of the removal to these plants which belong to the group of Hie green Algae. They find that a minute trace of copper sulphate, in a dilution so great as to be colourless, is tasteless, and harmless to man, while it is suffi-

ci<*nt 1} poisonous to the Algae to destroy them, and prevent their reappearance. The cost of treatment with the copper Bait, which is generally known as bluest one. is small. Jt must lie borne in mind that copper salts arc poisonous to human beings, and, indeed, to ail life it present in sufficient quantities, and it is better to err on the site of adding too lit th* than too much.

“(’ourabx ra’’ writes in a Sydney paper: *—There has liven a somewhat indirect effort, directed through the daily metropolitan press, at hast, towards making the public mind calmer towards tin* losses our countrymen have sustained and our State Premier has closed the door to ,\ew Zealand's charitable enterprise. I regret this. In my district (not in the immediate vicinity, but within 15 miles) young, energetic, and deserving settlers have been burnt completely out. One reached Bi)lipa lap Stat ion on foot after the fire of New Year’s Day. and, meeting the manager, said, “J came to see it you had anything. J have absolutely nothing, and my wife ami children are hack there very hungry, like inyfielf.’ “Well.’’ said the generous manager. “we have the house and a bit of focal anyhow.’’ He then drove bark and brought the man’s wife and five little girls, Rea reels covered in raiment, and hungering. ‘’Stay here,” saAi the manager, “till you ran get some clothes for them, at any rate.” And they stayed. Now, what can that, sufferer do without aid? llis homestead gone; his cattle, horses, sheep, and pigs. H-is fences burnt, his clothing, find money, all—all Fwept; and the bank’s partial security gone prevents any hope of help there. Another honest fellow, having made Koine hundreds out of a mine here, decided eighteen months ago to invest his Savings in land, and took up a large strip of hind at Lower Bugo. He spent every penny he had in improving and stocking it. On Christmas Day his wife bore him a son at Tumbeniba, making the third child. And when 1 saw the father a few days later in the town playing with his other two little ones in lhe park, he looked very happy. New Vears Day swept every penny and every iiope from him. These are the men that need help. If having been definitely settled beyond argument that the climate of Australia is not exactly a model one. inclining as it does somewhat overmuch to <lry spells, several ingenious ideas have been propounded towards the alteration of this state of affairs (remarks a writerin "Town and Country”). The favourite one has been that of Hooding the interior. forming a sort of artificial sea. of more or less magnitude, the presence of which would, it is hoped, serve to ameliorate the severity of the climate, and generally improve matters. This idea lias gradually crystallised itself into the concrete notion of utilising the bed of Lake Eyre. At first blush, this looked feasible enough, as the bed of Lake J-.yre is below t lie level of the sen, and so fascinating did the idea seem that, if I remember rightly, it once drew the attention of Sir William Lyne himself away, for a while, from the pleasant vista of political picnics. Lake Evre then would seem to offer a fair field to the advocates of a reform in climate, but for all that certain forces of nature arc too strongly against its success to be overcome. Granted that the money would be forthcoming to cut 250 or 30(1 miles of a canal between Lake Eyre and the head of Spencer Gulf, in steps the weighty question of evaporation. The flow would be sluggish, and bv the time Lake Eyre was reached, about 25 per cent, of the water admitted would have vanished, and the balance would follow while in the lake. Next comes the question of soakage. Many rivers, including such largi as Cooper Creek and the Biamanaina pour volumes of flood Water into Lake Eyre, and Lake Eyre never gets a foot deeper. It receives the drainage of over 25(1.00(1 square miles of country, ami is still thirsty. Where this immense body of water goes to we know not ; presumably into the sea, and if we could possibly impound It in Lake l.yre. Australia would perhaps be better »ff; but we can’t. If then Lake Eyre refuses to hold this tremendous supply' of fresh water, that finds its way into it, how would it fare with the salt? The canal would never make up the losses Created by evaporation and soakage. Professor Gregory, whose services Australia is about to lose, went into the quest ion of Hooding 1-ake Eyre some fiiuio ago, with * great deal of detail.

His opinion was that if you succeeded you might perhaps |iastui*e a few thousand slieep on country not now available, which would scarcely' be a result worth spending millions and millions to attain. J am afraid the cimate of Australia is not to be altered by any sudden or violent achievement, only by centuries of plodding and patient effort.