THE PURPLE JAR.

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 5, Issue 227, 17 November 1916, Page 4 (Supplement)

THE PURPLE JAR.

"Hullo, Squeaker! what have vo Lrot there r"

A fit-looking man of thirty-five with three stars on his cuff and plenty of mud about him came to a halt opposite a well-kept dugout labelled "Tin l Lobster Pot." Inside, a subaltern was trying to hook something out of a flat, sinistor-loking jar. "Ginger, sir," lie repaid: "come in and have some." '"Rather," exclaimed the other: "hot stuff's tlie correct wear for the interior just now." He pronged out n piece about the size of half an apricot. "I say, young fellah, you'll finish up as a Bra.ss Hat if you treat your poor, brow-beaten seniors like this. Been lootin' tlTe local Fortnum and Mason.?"

"Xo. the Governor got it on his last commission liefore the War. He's in the Navy, y'know. Bought a whole cargo of it from some filthy little hole in Canton. What do you think of that j?r?"

The Captain picked it up and inspected it. In colour it was deep purple, and on it<= surface were a number of small cabalistic signs. '"Queer, 1 tho Captain muttered; "reminds me of snakes or the witches in 'Macbeth. Rather beastly, I think. "}es; they took the old man's fancy. Ah Foo. or whoever he was, sai 1 they were, not supposed to go out at' China. Got Chinks' souls mixed up with them, or some rot. 'Master blanee him jar, Master chop i*hop make? die.' The Governor bought the lot it once, and got his Flag Lieutenant :o smash one on the ash-hoist just to hew the spell worked.'

"Well, what happened"? queried the Captain. "Oh, nothing much,'' replied the Sub. calmly; " tiiere was a pickled head inside it, one of those shrunken one.v y'know. The old man was jolly careful not to take his ginger blind aft -r that."

'"Good God!" exclaimed the Captain, I .lying down his fork. "I suppose H ; e lifted up the jar again, and tilted it towards the light.

"That's all right." the Squeaker grinned assuring!}*; "they're either brads or ginger. They never mix 'em. We only found three heads," he added regretfully, "and this, my mother tells mo, is the last jar." "Ever broken one'"" " Not that I know oi. You see, there was a bit of a coincidence about that first smash. The Flag Lieutenant happened to drop overboard on his wav home, so the old man got rather prejudiced about breaking 'em. The heads were buried in the orchard, jars anl ali.

" What rre you gcing to do with this tiling when it's empty?'' The Captain lingered it respectfully. " Well, sir, after Parry and Awkwriglit have had their,whack, I rather thought that, charged with discretion, it might work wonders on that sapheact opposite our No. 2 M.G. emplacement. They've been a bit too merry there the last night or so. This will make a pretty hefty nash-bomb if they .should happen to have any explosive about.' He picked up the jar and balanced it on the palm of his hand. The Captain rose up laughing. "Apart from your natural instinct-, Squeaker —as a bomb specialist, I mean —are you considering the durability of old Ah what's-h:s-nnme's~propfieey ?" "Oh, that." replied the Subaltern "that's all tommy-rot, of course."

A few days later, after a successful attack upon the Gvrmian fiYst-line trenches, the body of Second Lieutenant G. A. Seymour, alias the Squeaker, was recovered by his comrades. It wis found lying close to an abandoned enem v sa ahead.

"Most extraordinay!" an R.A.M.C. officer explained afterwards. "He wasn't touched anywhere —must have died from shock or something." "Um—m,yyes,"e—es," thoughtfully ' remarked a Capta'n who was stundim near; "perhaps." He shook his head and walked slowly away, unconvinced, and thinking the impossible. A. P. T.