WITHOUT PREJUDICE

Dominion, Volume 15, Issue 75, 21 December 1921, Page 4

WITHOUT PREJUDICE

NOTES AT RANDOM (By T.D.H.) Even Ireland seems tired of Mr. de Valera’s era. The meat pool is being formed as a result of the farmers damning Smithr field. The ex-Kaiser says that some day the truth alwut who made the war will come like an avalanche—and Hie possibility is that Wilhelm will be underneath. Mr. Erskine Childers claims that the latest injustice to Ireland is that they have not the right to waste money in building battleships.

Financial solidity is only to be assured by liquid assets.

A tripartite treaty is proposed by which Britain, France, and Germany each guarantees the territory of the others against aggression.—Why not a tripartite agreement that each will guarantee to the others in full all sums owing under the Peace Treaty?

Mr. de Valera, they tell us, looked like Savonarola. It is illuminating no doubt. At the Versailles Conference there was nearly a breakdown over Teschen. "Teschen I” said Mr. Lloyd George, "who had ever heard of Teschen?” Then the foreign editors of all the London newspapers jumped down his threat, and said that everybody who was anybody knew all about Teschen from A to Z, and could recite the names of the kings and queens of Teschen backwards, or words to that effect. Savonarola ? "Oh, he’s in one of Marion Crawford’s novels,” somebody said. 1 can’t afford the price of Marion Crawford’s novels nowadays. "Wasn’t he the man that hypnotised Trilby?” suggested someone else hopefully. Anyway, what did we have an encyclopaedia for?—it might lie a chance to pass off half a page oiit of it as matter for an entertaining column. “Saintc-Claire, Etienne Henri” —I wonder why Mr. de Valera did not look like him. . . . “St. Elmo’s Fire” . . . “Saints, the battle of" . . . this seems to be getting nearer . . . "Sasparilla”

. . . we must be close to it now . . . unless Savonarola is the name of some shaving stick, or something that the encyclopaedia won’t condescend to notice . . . encyclopaedias are much more careful of their company than the cable man as a rule.

I hope the realder will realise his ignorance when. I tell him that Savonarola gets nearly five pages of the encyclopaedia to himself. He had gaunt features, thick, black brows, and a largo mouth, and he made the people of Florence sing hymns instead of comic songs, and told them they were going to the devil, and tho Pope excommunicated him and had him tried and burned. This happened quite .a long time ago, but tho life of Savonarola is -not the sort of thing to rend to young children before you put them to bed. I hope for Mr. de Valera’s own sake that his resemblance to Savonarola is not too close.

Savonarola meant well. He was a monk who tried lo reform Florence 450 years ago. It was a city about the size of Wellington, and behaved itself rather worse. Savonarola, eventually became its dictator, but the standard he wanted was too high for people to live up to on more than one day in seven. He suggested the Pope was not all he might he, and that annoyed the Pope, and then the people tried to get Savonarola to prove the soundness icf his ideas by’ walking .through a bonfire. ... It was recognised that if Savonarola's ideas were sound the fire could not hurt him . . . but Savonarola said the weather was not suitable ■ • • and that annoyed the people, and so in the finish they burnt him themselves. . . . And that is what they’ say Mr. de Valera is like.

Even the most sensible of men find it hatd to resist the temptation. to name their sons after themselves.

Christmas presents aro worrying things. A youthful friend was anxious to be most helpful. "Why not give a book?” he suggested. He had just been reading ii splendid book. "Just the thing,” I said, "what was it?” "Well, I forget the name.” "Who was the author?” hopefully. “Oh, I don’t know.” "Well, what was it about?” desperately. "Indeed. I’ve forgotten.” Long pause—then, eagerly, "It had a red cover!”

Dr. Bumpus says he quite agrees with Councillor Chapman that the milk is not as good now as it was a year .ago. The deterioration is continuing. Only last evening he noticed the milk was not as good as it was in the morning. Things generally arc not what they were. Christmas isn’t what it was, butter isn’t, wool isn’t, meat isn’t, nnd even Major Fitzurse’s motor-car isn’t what it was seven or eight years hack. Only that morning the Major had remarked to him that people had no longer any respect for the truth. The Doctor says he tries hard' to believe in progress, but he can’t get away from a feeling that the world is going downhill. Tho English arc losing their stamina in worrying whether this Irish business is settled or not; before they didn’t care one way or the other. . . It is not cheering.

Last week the Doctor went to a spiritualistic seance with Eheu Fugaces. . . You remember Eheu Fngaecs?

. . . He used to run o. wonderful stenk and chop place down the Quay in the old days. . . . Ehen got into touch with the spirit of Jonah. “Fish.” said Jonah pensively ... at least it came through the medium with an effect of tho pensive . . . .“fish aren’t what they used: to lie in my day, at all! Let

me' tell you. . . But tho connection was lost nnd never recovered' —mediums are not what they were. Mr. Henry Bodley doesn’t write the letters he used to, and it must Ire nearly a month since Mr. Mitchell exposed anything. . - . It is no good telling ns youth is the conqueror. Time is always the conqueror. . . . Whore is Semiramis, where is Harry Oneoly. where is 'the promising young Tom Wilford wo used to know? '. . . The only person in the whole city, tho Doctor says, J bnt time roes not seem to affect much is his old friend Mr. Henry Wright. A SUMMER DAY. What makes a day of summer? A bending cloud-flecked sky, A stirring in the grasses Of wind that wanders by. A butterfly gay poising Upon a fragrant spray. A child’s sweet eyes uplifted— This makes a summer day. —Alix Thorn.