ALARUMS AND SPIRITS

Dominion, Volume 11, Issue 109, 25 January 1918, Page 3

ALARUMS AND SPIRITS

VOICES IN THE FOG. (By "Mist-Eerie."). I would not- like to assert definitely iust what the hour was; suffice to state that the particular section of tte diurnal cycle to which I am about to refer belongs to that group of hours often described as "unearthly.' _ Why unearthly I am not in a position to say; possibly because during those brief periods of blissfulness the spirit is wont to temporarily evacuate its earthly tenement and wander amid tho spheres. Certainly those other lours -the "earthly" ones, I. presume-por, mit of few deviations into the world of spiritual things. But you're Tendering what it's all about. My wife recalled me from sphere number seven—You know the one where good bookmakers and editors go to— to call my attention to the fact that peace had'been declared. She was sure of it. You know how it is with wives, they arc always sure about it. (by tho way, it's remarkable how often their assurance is warranted!) But Set i.et recollections of lame explanations on mv part lure me to further digression. "Yes," she said, "peaco is declared. She knew it. Listen to tho guns at the forts, and the bells, to say nothing ot the sirens of the ships in harbour. Oh, ves, thoro was no doubt about it; some joyful news had come through in the night, and what more likely than tho magic word "peace"? What more unlikely? thought I. However, women haven't the sound judgment upon these matters that we have. 1 •ctten note tho masterly dobates on tlio w when travelling to and fro m tho "smoker," so I know what I'm talking

about. , . Mv wife's excitement having communicated itself to me—in a milder degree, of course—l sat up in bed and listened to the unusual combination oi noises beforo which had fled the spirit of peacefulness that usually dwells in our quiet neighbourhood. Then as my "earthly" senses returned to me I rcoognised the various sounds. The guns fit'the forts referred to by my wife were explained by the detonations of the fog signals at the Heads. _.1 he rest was' easy. Uncertain manners caught by tb.at treacherous foe, a tog bank, were cautiously navigating their ships and anxiously feeling their way into harbour, malting free use of the siren and ship's bell the while. Having, in my usual masterful way, elucidated the mystery, I proceeded to attempt a Tenewal of my seventh-sphere wanderings. But the effort was futile. Those sirens haunted me. The periodical explosions at Pencarrow were soothing if anything (I am a conscientious objector, and was reminded ot wJiat I had dodged), and the ships' beds weie suggestive of a peaceful Sabbath morn, and most helpful in view of my ™«n----iiigs after a spiritual atmosphere. Jsut I couldn't get past those mournful sirens. . , , f Have you ever noticed the tone or assurance, amounting to pomposity, borne in the blast of a vessel s s'ren just prior to her departure from poiir There's no mistaking the air of importance those parting blasts seem to suggest: "Come along now; get a move on; I'm about due to start; passengers all 'aboard; non-passengers ash ore. Come along now! Hurry up! but lew different is the tone of that same alien when a fog descends and the good ship is left groping like a.blind man in a wood. All pomposity has depar.eii, and naught but the cry of thehelptass,w there. I think I have never heard so sad a sound as that cry. A truly mournful note that penetrates every fibre of ro> being, like the cry of a child 'ost in a wilderness. Tt is a sound that takes ,„« back to December, 1883 when the ferry steamer Eotorua collided _TWth tlie'Ovowaito in a dense fog oft ti.e Kaikouras. I was one of several voungsters irnvrnoymg homeward fiorn Wellington for the holidays, and the details of that night's adventure weie deeply impressed upon ray memci>. The foghorn solo made the deep«.t impression upon me, however, and I can never forget the atmosphere of nnx ty that pervaded the whole ship our ng that night so long ago. I ™*™™V V a vivacious youngster, but ultimate y the foghorn triumphed over my uu-i----ity and T fell a victim to what in e'se days is classically termed the "Willies" There can be no doubt that fog is the very worst enemy to nav.ga-(ion-ahvays excepting the U-hofs and I was not surprised > observe to stately and speedy Maori creeping cautmnstv into harbour about three hums beliind time this morning. Seatoun Heights, January 10, I.)W.