FROM MY WINDOW.

Shannon News, 30 May 1922, Page 4

FROM MY WINDOW.

No. XX. COMMENTS AND CRITICISMS

(By “ETERA.”;

The public sitting room at a health resort, or the passage leading thereto, invariably holds' a visitors’ book. Why is this? Does the proprietor encourage the literary laculiy dormant in many human beings, or does he place the book there in the hope oi receiving a cheap advertisement? However it be, it is there, and it is used. The big tome is usually halfway full of a collection of handwritings that should gladden the heart ol any cohnoisseur. And yet- I have never heard of a visitors’ nook having been stolen, have you? Caligraphy is not convertible into hard cash in this form. It is rather a transaction between two people —one the owner of a fat cheque book, and the other the owner of a plausible tongue. Ihe latter writes pleading letters, while the former answers with “speaking” figures. But even cheque-book owner is at a disadvantage in the Hot Lakes district if he has gone for change and rest; because—to pluck the old chestnut from the tree of bitterlyacquired knowledge—the baths take the change and the hotels take the rest!

Once upon a time I was taken for a visit to the Hot Lakes, coaching ui the old-fashioned way. At one accommodation house we enjoyed the rest atforded by one or two wet days; and naturally we looked around for our amusement. This came for me in the shape of peeping into the visitors’ book. I found there that some people had no ideas to express about what they had seen, good, bad or indifferent. They followed the advice of one writer: “If you have nothing to say, say it.” Others inadvertently gave an insight into their own characters, that was more or less clear. One, short and to the point, was this:— “A.n.C, and Wffie.—' On.eymoon and ’appy.” Oh reading this i imagined that these two people had been travelling lung enough to have shaken out all ol the rice and confetti from the .' hats, coats and suit cases, and had settled down to the very obvious fact iliai they were known to be honeymooners. A.B.C.'s present of a fur coat to the bride had been duly notified in the local newspapers, which made tne bride feel as secure irom publicity as an escaped prisoner would with tw T o or three broad arrows on his uniform. Anyhow, they were bent on having a jolly time, and had come to the right place for it.

Here’s a pessimist for you:—

“A very rotten place; take my advice and do not stay here.” In our peregrinations we met someone who rejoiced (?) in owning this wet-blanket quality. My companion aptly named him “The Geyser,” because of his tendency to go off “pop” at unexpected times—when, Tor instance, he could not claim the box seat, or if rain came, or wind. My advice to such as he, is to take everything as it comes, with a laugh; or at least, as a new expedience, if he wants to enjoy his holiday. If not, let him stay at home and give others a chance to enjoy theirs.

J.T.X.: “Always in hot water.” This was a man of too—too—solid flesh, and I imagine his following the will o' (he wisp in the hope of being able to lace up his shoes once more without a. groan, by taking a generous dose of hot baths treatment. But I

l'ear me that when it came to taking a tumblerful of hot water, he added to it that w.hich was not conducive to reduction, nor even to prohibition.

Some homesick traveller apparently speaks from her heart:— “Any amount of dust—grea'ly disippointed, nothing worth of seen. Tired of koching, glad to get back." (Some wag adds)—

“To school?" (A third person says) “Judging by spelling and composition, quite time you went!"

This grumbling tourist I take :o have been a middle-aged foreigner, whose sense of physical comfort held a higher position than her sense of art and science,

I imagine the next writers to be a party of irresponsibles waiting for the rain-clouds to roll by. They see the visitors’ book, and pounce upon it. The first to And a vacant, page, a tall young athlete, writes thus: “English people from afar, Come and visit Taupo’s spa, Give up taking Beecham’s pills— The waters here will cure all ills. Let it never be forgot That they really touch the spot. Sniff the odour of the pine,

Bathe in iron aricl iodine, Quickly run then jip the path, Plunge into the sulphur bath.” The next is written by a girl admirer:— *“ .‘‘lt really is a horrid shame To spoil this book with verses tame,' But should you seek a poet's fame, 1 think you’re wise to hide your name!” The next is the athlete’s “Pal”:—

‘‘lndeed it is a pleasant lot, To pass a night in such a spot, Bathing in the waters hot.’.’ Then conies one who thinks in prose rather than in verse:— __ “Will you please excuse this rot !” Next is a little piece of feminine frivolity:—

“And forgive this horrid blot."

And lastly comes the sedate girl of the party—the kind who would remember to wear her goloshes in rainy weather, and could always be depended upon to supply extra hairpins:— “Whether English, French or Scot, Greek or Turk, it matters not!”

How would you diagnose them?

I feel a veritable Mrs Jarley parading her puppets before you; each in turn being dusted and made to do his “hit” before returning once more to retirement. Such is life: we pass our early days being stuffed with learning that is supposed to help .us later on, but which very often only proves to be sawdust. Then we make our bow to the public and Mrs Jarley praises our many good points skilfully hiding the threads and patches.* She herself is a cross between the world, the ilesh and the deep sea, and sometimes describes her puppets most accurately. At other times, like me, she is a long way “out” in her conjecture.

Here, ladies and gentlemen, is a tourist recently imported from Home, lie was a little stiff at first, and needed oiling, after which he expanded and blossomed like the rose. We onlookers thought lie could not see beyond his monocle, but when someone brought to his notice the sore condition of a shoulder of one of the coachhorses, a condition intensified by the penetration of fine pumice dust that prevailed in the thermal district, he won the hearts of the onlookers by growing much perturbed, taking out ilia camera to snapshot it, saying it was a case for the S.P.C.A., and should not be allowed. This kindly interest in a dumb animal, and the fact of his giving up his seat) in a crowded coach and attempting to sit on the roof—the iast place for comfort unless one is a rubber ball—made us forget that he was ever anything but one of the happy family of sightseers. He said he was out for the fishing, but circumstances made it hard to find out whether he was at the winding wheel of the fishing rod, or the bait end, for lie had made friends with a mother who had several marriageable daughters with her. By the business-like glint in her eye, one- guessed that she, too, was an ardent angler, and out tor fishing; one who would not be above chasing a minnow if no “sixpounder” were about. But with this “six-pounder” at hand she was in her element, and had to be continually restraining her desire to hum “Will you come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly.” Her art in this instance was to find out which daughter was the right' fly to use as bait for him to rise to. British tourist, we did not need to wpnder if you would be caught, the only question was “When?” But you would be fortunate in gaining any one of these sensibly reared girls. I could say this from an unbiassed woman’s standpoint.

My next puppet is an epicure:— : “Sights good, accommodation better, food best.” Another enthusiast writes:— "Everything delightful, baths de lieious.” This naturally elicits the query* “N. 8.: Did you drink them?” Next, lagoo, the great boaster:— “Sixth visit,” This also elicits a query:— “Oh, indeed? Do come back!” A tragedian comes nearest to expressing ; liis appreciation ol' the wonders of God in the building of Nature:— “O, tourist friend, refrain, 1 pray, From poking stick into the clay At geyser’s base. ( These wondrous pinnacles, with care Nature hath built in colours rare— Disturb them not!” ,

But, after all, one would not like 10 find the subject treated with levity. Far better for it to be omitted and pondered instead in the heart, I cannot understand how anyone can move ' about among such wonders without feeling the. presence of Omnipotence and one’s own impotence. “Praise the Lord for his wonderful works. ... He t-urneth rivers into a wilderness, and the water-springs into dry ground. ... A fruitful land into barrenness. ... .He turneth the wilderness into a standing wafer, and dry ground into wafer-springs. ... He blesseth them also.”