HERE AND THERE.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXV, Issue 13, 30 September 1905, Page 15

HERE AND THERE.

A Love Story in Phonetics. The brlday pair pranced down the aisle. On their faces a satisfied smaisle. She his title had gained. And he did not feel pained That he’d won with the lady her paisle. Nickel Instead of Copper. A suggestion made by a London paper for the substitution of a nickel currency for the present bronze coinage of this country has met with wide approval. An eminent bacteriologist declares that the copper coin is responsible for no little disease. "When examined through a microscope,” he said, “many of our bronze coins are seen to be covered with minute but virulent organisms which are capable of causing many diseases, and particularly blood poisoning. “The copper in the coins, is of course, poisonous, and when fouled by dirty hands and pockets coppers might be called ‘coins of the coffin’ almost as truthfully as ‘coins of th,? realm.’” These objections do not apply to a nickel coinage. Even after many years’ use it is bright, and the design remains sharply cut. for the metal is as little affected by . wear and tear as by variations of temperature. .Moreover, it is not poisonous. Another point in favour of nickel is that the coins would be all British. “We have mines in Canada,” said Mr Mathias, secretary of the Mond Niekel Company. Limited, when interviewed, “from which we got all our nickel. It is mined near Sudbury, Ontario, and refined at Cardiff. So British labour is employed throughout.” A nickel anna will soon b? introduced into the Indian coinage. Designs have been prepared, but the coins have not been placed in circulation yet. The change will be greatly appreciated by the mass of the Indian people, who have a great dislike to copper coins. The nickel coin has been a success in America, and in nearly every Continental country. The last country to au’opt it was France,.which twenty-five centime piece two years ago, and was so delighted with it that copper has been practically superseded. “Worth Securing. The sermon was just over. The preacher felt' anxious, for he had officiated for a brother clergyman. In the vestry he asked the clerk, carelessly, “Was my discourse pitched in too high a key? I hope I did not shoot over the heads of the people?’’ "No, you didn’t do that, sir,” was the somewhat too-ready reply. “Was it a suitable theme?” “Yes; it was about r'ght.” ‘‘Was it too long?” “No: but it was long enough.’’ “I am glad of that. for. to tell you the truth, as 1 was preparing this sermon, my dog destroyed four or five pages, and that made it much shorter.” "Oh! sir.’’ said the clerk, “could you let our vicar have a pup o' that ’ere dog?” No Dieting for Met*. The lady who sat in the physician’s consulting-room was certainly .stout. Her reason for seeing him was that he might prescribe sonic course of treatment which would reduce her too solid ilesh: and. after some consideration, the great man drew up a dietary for her. ordered her to strictly follow it, and report to him in a month. At the'end of the time she was stouter than ever. The physician was aghast. “Are you quite sure you nle what 1 ordered?" he asked. "Everytiling!” answered .the patient. His brow wrinkled in perplexity. "Am! nothing else?” "Nothing whatever, doctor—except, of course, my ordinary meals!”

The Development of Postcards. A return which has just been issued by the Postal Union for the year 1903 contains some interesting items, especially with regard to the extent to which postcards have ingratiated themselves with the public. It appears from this return that in the matter of postcards the German. Empire heads the list with no fewer than 1.161 millions posted there during that year. Even the United States, whose population is about onehalf in excess of that of Germany, can boast of only 7701 millions of those missives. Great Britain eomes next with 613 millions. Japan, which previously used next to Germany most postcards, is now fourth on the list with 487* millions. The inhabitants of Germany alone, therefore. are now availing themselves of nearly as many postcards as the United States and Japan together. Other countries are greatly left behind in the race; not one of them reaches the number of 300 millions. Individually there came, in millions, upon Austria. 291; the East Indies (British India), 254; and Russia, 114. All the rest show a number of less than 100 millions—-namely. Belgium, 63; Denmark, 6; France. 70; Spain, 13; Hungary, 88; Italy, 85; the Netherlands. 59; Norway, 5; Portugal, 11; Sweden, 43; Switzerland. 53. As to letters, however, the United States is far ahead of all other countries. The total number of letters posted there during 1903 was 4101) millions. Great Britain follows in its wake with 2597 millions, and then Germany with 1648 millions. The said three countries together have, therefore, each posted upwards ot one milliard of letters. France counts for over half a milliard—namely. 844 millions of letters. With less than half a milliard are Austria with 464, Belgium with 104. Spain with 136. Hungary with 127. the East Indies with 258, Japan with 208. Norway w.ith 32, the Netherlands with 86, Russia with 3491 Switzerland with 94, and Sweden with 81 millions. Shy About Their Weight. “’Nearly everybody is sensitive about their weight.” said a man who was in charge of a number of slot machines. "Thin people seem to think that they do not weigh enough, and fat people believe they weigh too inucli. 1 have a great deal of fun watching people who use the weighing-machines. “Usually before a person drops in his penny lie will make sure that no one is near enough to read the figures on the dial. If anybody approaches before the hand has stopped, a sensitive person will sometimes get oil the scale. Women are more sensitive about their weight than men. Few women will weigh themselves while anybody is looking. They seem io guard their weight as closely as they do their ages. Here’s a little

advice: It you want to be popular with thin women, exaggerate when guessing their weight; if you would have tat women like you, guess below what you think they weigh.*’ Care o£ the Piano. A talk with a veteran dealer in piano* discloses interesting facts. The piano is a delicate instrument, t<a> valuable and too expensive to be subjected to the strain of one kind and another which it undergoes in many households. ‘’Above all things,” siys the piano man, “look out for extremes of beat ami cold, and for dampness especially steam, which sometimes finds its way through the bouse The piano should never he near a hot air register, steam radiator, or a heater of any kind, nor should il. on the other hand, rest against an outside wall of a house. Extremes of heat and cold check the case and are anything but salutary for the musical portion. A draught is bad for a piano in that it renders frequent tuning necessary. A grand piano in a lofty, gallericd music room will be out of tune in no time if there are draughts. “The room in which the piano is situated should preferably have a hard wood Hour, without, rugs, and should he as free as possible from draperies and upholstery of any kind, which soften the sound. There is no general rule for the placing of a piano in a room. Different locations must h.» tried until the one is found in which the conditions are the most favourable for the instrument to be heard at its best.*’ Some New “ Chanties.'’ Ere long the “wind-jammer” and the “lime-juicer” will be things of the past upon the sea. and the sailor songs no Adkin has indited come “Chanties’’ with longer h,?ard. That is why Mr. Knight a ring of regret in them tor the coming of steam and the passing of sails. Here arc a couple of stanzas as published in the “Spectator”: — North anti South and home again. Bound the world and all. From Barry DovtAo Callao. From Limehouse to Bengal. Where’er the old “Red Duster” flies. Where’er a ship can swing. Where'er an English hand's at work You’hl hear the chorus ring. Refrain. Oh! its “Frisco Town" for anchor up, “Rto” for mains’l haul. As soldiers know their bugle notes We knew' them one and all. “I.eave her, Johnny, as we go,” “Missouri” or “Black Balt.” Take your time from the chanty man! All together! Haul! Their music’s falling silent now: We’ll never hear again Tile whiie-winged Swansea copper boats Ring to the old refrain. The sea’s n-chock with steam amt speed From Melbourne to the Bay. And sailor-men and sailor-songs Are out of date today. Refrain. Oh! Twas “Whisky, hoys.” and “Blow him (low n,” And “Haul the bowline, haul!” Bough ami harsh and raw with brine. But oil. how clear the call! ‘■’rhe” world is fair, the seas are wide, And England's all too small.” Take your time from the chantymau’ AH together! Haul!

The Point of View. The demonstrative elderly woman at the inusieale was going into raptures over the performance of an alleged songstress whose lack of vocal efficiency contrasted grotesquely with her extravagant, emotional delivery. Turning to iter neighbour, she asked: “Don't vou just adore her singing? It's so full of soul!” But h.-. precise as well as cultivated, remarked: “Madani, it seems to me to lie les? suggestive of sole than of flounder.” Lotoiuoney s Visiting Card. Mr Lotonioney, the dust contractor, having made a fortune—part of which he had invested in house property in the East of London—wished to enter into some sort of higher class society. His golden key, applied to the coffers of an impecunious aristocrat, opened the way. His new friend, amongst other things, advised him that visiting cards were a necessity, and, as a guide to drawing tone up ready for the printer, handed him one of his own, which read: — « HAROLD DE VERE. lona House. I’ortsmouth-square, W. Two days later, as De Vere was sitting in his dressing-gown at breakfast, n servant brought in on a salver a visiting eard bearing the following: EPI 1R A IM LOTOMONEY. I own 23 houses, London, E. Ladies and Pi'ofanity. The use of bad words by ladies Jias recently been discussed in connection with a conspicuous suit at law, writes “Colliers.” In our opinion the social setting makes the habit worse. A scolding fish-wife done in gold is rather less artistic than ■when left in true colours as a bit of genre. The use of what is euphemistically called a “big, big D” is more a question of taste than of morality, but the dividing line between taste and morality is often so ill-defined that it is as well to be conservative in such matters, particularly, we venture to observe, if one is a woman. It is not the “D” in itself, any more than a few years ago it was the cigarette in itself, that is on trial, so much as traits of which such habits are the hall-mark. If feminine drinking and profanity are considered recherche in certain quarters, and if there is much lamentation concerning it, more perhaps than it deserves, it may be said that society will get notions of that sort now and then, just as a child does, only you can't take it by the ear as you can a child —unless you are a John Knox—and who wants to be? In the main, it is not so very bad a child, and may come out all right in the end. Possibly some of us will live to see the return of more delicate manners, for thus the pendulum swings. Beatrix Esmond and her friends had many of the bad customs which we deplore to-day, and society lived through them. In some ways there is progress. At least, the fine ladies of to-day know how to bathe, which is more than poor Beatrix did. Yes, Beatrix drank and swore. If, in her irascible old age, she had been out of patience with an architect, she would have undoubtedly gone further and given him an argument from her gold-headed cane. Doubtless, when chance gives an individual or a class or a nation so great wealth as to bewilder it there is danger that it will revert to barbarism. Cakes and ale as a steady diet are not hygienic. You can never tell when the situation threatens to be serious. English society recovered from Charles IT., but Rome fell, and Versailles; and Russia stands in the pillory at present. A Forward Child. Nodd: “You say your baby doesn't walk yet? Mine does. Same age, too. Your baby cut his teeth yet?” Todd: “No.” Nodd: “Mine has all of them. Your baby talk?” . Todd: “Not yet. Can yours?” I Nodd: “Great Scott, yes.” Todd (desperately): "Does he shftxj himself or go to the barber's!” “ Y

The Art of Dialogue. Dear Mr Punch, —I read in a review the other day that very few authors of the present age could write really natural dialogue. Having discovered a way of writing stories without any dialogue at all, I beg to present my latest effort to your readers. If it seems difficult in places, a little study will soon discover the meaning. My tale is entitled: THE PREVARICATION OF PRISCILLA. He put an arm around her waist. “ ?” he asked in a low voice. “——she replied, shaking her pretty head. “ ,” he ejaculated. “ ,” she said, reprovingly. “ ,” he apologised. There was silence for a little while. Then Arthur returned to the attack. What right had she to be so decided about it? he thought. “ ,” he said, “ .” “ ,” she admitted. “ ,” he went on, “- .” He paused for a reply. There was a short silence, while Priscilla thought how best she could put it. At last she began: “ .” She looked timidly at him. “- ,” she urged, pleadingly. “ ,” was his monosyllabic comment. | ?“Rats”—Ed.] she persisted. He stood up in front of her, and cried to her from the fulness of his heart. Love gave him eloquence. “ ,” he said. “-——she said. “ ——,” he muttered, with clenched teeth. Out aloud, “ dwelling lovingly upon the name. He held out his arms to her, and no longer could she resist him. “ ——,” she cooed. “ ——?” he asked, hardly able to believe his ears. “ ,” she lispedHow simple and yet how neat, Mr Punch, is this method of writing dialogue. No long, cumbersome, unreal talk; but at time the reader left in no doubt as to the nature of the conversation. “ ,” she lisped. “Yes" or “No” it must have been, and how can one lisp “No’’? The subtlety of it, Mr Punch! —Your humble servant, The O’Meredith. —“Punch.” A Strange Love. I clasped her struggling to my heart, I whispered love unknown: One kiss on her red lips I pressed, And she was all my own. I loved her with .1 love profound, E'en deatli could not destroy; And yet. I must confess. I found My bliss had some alloy. For once I saw her unaware Upon a fellow’s lap; He claiming kisses ripe and rare— I did not like the chap. She had some faults (so have we all), But one I hope to throttle; J She had, alas, what I may call A weakness foir the bottle. One morn I caught her ere was made Her toilette, and beneath An old straw hat, her laugh betrayed— My darling bad no teeth. Unconscious of my presence she, With artful antics rare, - Tossed off the hat, and—Gracious me! Her head was minus hair! But love was founded on a rock. And mighty- in its might. For I could learn without a shock She could not read or write. J She could not dance or sing a tone, ' And scarcely could converse; 1 But what eared I, she was my’ own, For better or for worse. j And yet I loved her. and confessed I Devotion, and It may be I Y'ou’d do the same if you possessed I Just such another baby. t Not That Kind of Baby. The following anecdote related by Mark Twain has but once appeared in print. At an entertainment given for the benefit of the seamen on board the steamer Kaiser Wilhelm IL, on her voyage from New York to Genoa, Mr. Clemens was posted for an address. On being introduced lie rose, and in his peculiar manner and tone of voice said: “My friends, I see that my name is on the programme for an address. Aa this

was done without consulting me I shall give you an anecdote in its place. Now, you know, there are anecdotes and anecdote-, short metro and long metre. I shall give you a long metre, one with a schnapper at the end. It is about a Scotch-Irish minister, who thought he was called to preach the Gospel, while he knew that he had the gift of oratory, and he never missed an opportunity to display it. An opportunity was afforded on the occasion of a christening. There was a considerable audience, made up of relatives, friends, and neighbours of the parents. The preacher began by saying: “ ‘We have met together, my friends, on a very interesting occasion—the christening of this little child—but I see already a -look of disappointment on your faces. Is it because this infant is so small? We must bear in mind that this globe upon which we live is made up of small things, infinitesimal objects, we might say. Little drops of water make the mighty ocean; the mountains which rear their hoary heads toward heaven and are often lost in the clouds are made up of little grains of sand. Besides, my friends, we must take into consideration the possibilities in the life of this little, speck of humanity. He may become a great preacher, multitudes may be swayed by his eloquence and brought to see and believe in the truths of the Gospel. He may become a distinguished physician. and his fame as a healer of men may reach the uttermost ends of the earth, and his name go down to posterity as one of the great benefactors of his kind. He may become a great astronomer, and may read the heavens as an open book. He may discover new stars which may be coupled with those of Newton and many other great discoverers. He may become a distinguished statesman and orator, and by the strength of his intellect and eloquence he may control the destinies of nations and his name be engraved upon monuments erected to perpetuate his memory by his admiring and grateful countrymen. He may become an author and a poet, and his name may yet appear among those now entombed at 'Westminster. He may become a great warrior and lead armies to battle and victory; his prowess and valour may change the map of Europe. Methinks I hear the plaudits of the people at the mention of his deeds and name. He may become—er—er—he might—er ’ turning to the mother, “What is his name?” “The mother, very much bewildered: ‘What is the baby’s name?’ “ Wes, what is his name?’ The mother: ‘lt’s name is Mary Ann.’ ” Climbing Skyward. New York has the promise of the highest structure in the world, not counting the Eiffel Tower, which is simply a steel hoopskirt. One of the great insurance companies is to build a monumental tower, 560 ft high, for which its present imposing eleven-story office building will be merely a base. The Washington Monument, 555 ft high, is now the loftiest inclosed structure in the world. Had the plans proposed for the city building at the end of the. Brooklyn Bridge been carried out, New York would have had an enormous office tower 600 ft in height, which would have been beyond all rivalry. But though small compared with that, the new insurance isky-scraper will throw all existing structures into the shade. Aside from the thousand-foot Eiffel Tower there are four edifices made with hands which exceed 500 ft in height—the Washington Monument, 555; the Pyramid of Cheops, 520, and the two spires of the Cathedral of Cologne, 501. If the engineers had their way, unrestrained by considerations of light, air, beauty and finance, they would have no trouble in filling our cities with office buildings a thousand feet high.

Have Yon Red Hair ? Does red hair denote talent? “Not always,” says a characterreader to whom the question was put, “but it is undoubtedly a sign of vigour and alertness of character. It indicates, too, a more than usual degree of passion and intensity of feeling. “Some of the most famous and infamous characters, in the world’s history have had ruddy locks. Shakesspeare, Napoleon, Alexander, Julius Caesar, Cromwell, Tasso, Queen Elizabeth, Cleopatra, Joan of Are, Mary Queen of Scots, and Lucretia Borgia (to quote a few from a long list of both sexes), are instances in point, all showing in one form or another the distinctive qualities denoted by red hair. “As an addition to female beauty the bards and artists of the Middle Ages esteemed it highly. To them red hair was a thing to be desired, and some painters and poets still hold the same view.” 'j’YV £2O a Week at Bridge. You wonder what my profession is! Well, in strict confidence, I am a bridge player. f Now, don’t look scandalised. I am not a gambler. I simply play a firstclass game, and out of my winnings I make a good living. How much? Well, about a thousand a year. You see, bridge is one of the few games in which skill is superior to luck —a really good player is bound to win, if he plays consistently, with players not so proficient as himself. , How did I start? ' I found myself suddenly thrown on my beam ends through a heavy financial loss, my only assets, a ’Varsity education—no particular value, a good appearance—a decidedly valuable possession, a knowledge of games, and a few “parlour tricks,” as our Y’ankee cousins say. .( I had always been fond of cards, and when bridge became the vogue I took it up, and took a course of lessons from a first-class player, making a careful study of the game, and I found that my winnings were practically all I had to live on. The idea came to me that I had better’ improve my knowledge of the game, so I studied all the problems in the various papers, and then joined half a dozen clubs where cards were played. By this means I greatly improved my game, and at the same time made many acquaintances, being always careful to pick men of good social position. These new friends soon found out my abilities in amusing people, and invitations came in rapidly. After a little music the inevitable game would be sure to be proposed, and then came my opportunity. I always made a point of only playing for moderate stakes—half a crown and five shillings a hundred, only on rare occasions rising to the height of half a sovereign. . It would never do to be known as a man who is fond of high play. I certainly am satisfied with my profession, although it necessitates a very rigid existence. I am scrupulously careful in ray diet. No pleasures of the table are allowable for me. .A rigid rule of' life in every way, except during the few weeks’ holiday that I allow myself, during which I never touch a card.' The best season I have is in the autumn and winter, when country-house parties are in full swing. The men are too tired for billiards, and bridge is on the tapis every evening. Women are naturally a great source of income to me, unfortunately for themselves. Women rely too much on luck, and, if they have lost, invariably wish to raise the points. I always make a protest, which, of course, is over ruled, and then I reap a harvest. Skill always heats luck at bridge. .