LIFE’S LITTLE DIFFICULTIES

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 107, 27 July 1927, Page 4

LIFE’S LITTLE DIFFICULTIES

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Brown sighed the other day, “I so often wish that my children had been girls’.” I wondered why. I have often envied Mrs. Brown her two nice sons. “It is so difficult to know, nowadays, what to put the sons of gentlemen to do!” “The sons of gentlemen!” Well, at heart I am very much of a democrat, and I have always held that a man is what he makes himself. Half a dozen fierce answers rose to my too-ready lips, but as I did not want to offend Mrs. Brown, I said as calmly as 1 could: “May I tell you about a boy I used to know? He was the son of a general —quite a famous man. This lad was meant for the Army—all the men of the general’s family were either Army or Navy—but he had no aptitude for soldiering. He protested. Of all things in the world, he wanted to learn a trade—carpentering! Imagine it, my dear! It was not in 1927, I may tell you, but considerably pre-war. The old general nearly had a fit and his wife said the boy would break her heart. (It must have been of brittle stuff!) Well, they insisted on forcing the square peg into the round hole. The boy failed for the Army. Tried again, and failed. Then he took the law into his own hands, and ran away. For five years he served his time with a carpenter. He lived as working men live; not in the luxury of his father’s house. And he kept his ideal before him; he worked, he saved. He had originality and ambition. He is now head of a large furnishing house, a well-known designer, and everyone who places an order with him is certain to get work that is artistic and perfectly done. “Did his mother’s heart break, or the general die of apoplexy? Certainly not. They swallowed their pride and it did them no end of good. “They have lived to be proud of their son who. before he rose to fame, was what they used to call ‘a common working man.’ ” Mabel E. Skae. NEW LAMPS AND CANDLESTICKS The newest standards for table lamps are very fascinating. Made of delicately tinted porcelain, beautifully glazed, they are carried out in all kinds of intriguing designs. Two fat grey ducks, with yellow feet and beaks, standing on a soft green plateau, form one effective standard; a grey tree-trunk of porcelain supports the shade which is made of three layers of ninon, stretched over a wire frame. The middle thickness is painted with a border of ducks and rushes, and when the light is switched on the design shows up most effectively. Little god Fan, sitting in meditation, with a big green frog on his quaint goat’s knees, forms another pretty lamp standard; the ninon shade is in this case decorated with a wee border of spotted toadstools and green grasses. Pewter and copper, hammered into interesting shapes, make attractive candle-holders. One design carried out in the guise of a miniature tree, with spreading branches covered with shining leaves is particularly delightful. Dull blue-enamelled cups “grow” out of the leaves to hold the candles. A stand of this description looks very well placed on an oak refectory table, or on a carved monk’s chest, black with age. Old-fashioned sword-hilts make uncommon candlesticks. The hilts can sometimes be picked up quite cheaply in an old curiosity shop, and any local iron-worker will fix them for the purpose, The hilt naturally becomes the bottom of the candlestick, and a cup for the candle must be soldered on top. Rosamund Martin. QUAINT CONCEITS IN CUTLERY Even in such prosaic matters as table knives, fashion refuses to stand still. If, therefore, you find it necessary to renew your stock, remember the latest modes in decorative table cutlery. In stainless steel, the new blades are made on the lines of the “scimitar," the graceful curve forming a far more attractive feature than the straight line of the ordinary knife. They are practical in use and, as they do not need to go into a knife-cleaning machine, the shape has no disadvantage on that score.

Handles also are very fanciful where the new cutlery is concerned. In imitation of the stained ivory of the Georgian era are the green erinoid handles that go so admirably with the green table glass of the moment; they look extraordinarily well upon a polished, clothless table. The Bohemian element is recognised in some scimitar knives that are equipped with handles of dark wood—a at one time considered on.y worthy of the kitchen table, but now regarded as the last word in advancement. Table knives with handles of Danish and Dutch porcelain are right in the tradition of the 18th Century, and very charming are they when used with a dinner service of similar type. Dessert knives go a step further and affect handles of crystal and also of coloured enamels, copied from originals in national collections. Naturally, such elaborate affairs are intended only for ceremonial occasions, after which they will be washed and put away by the lady of the house, with her best Coalport or Minton to await the next entertainment. Other soi-disant “jewellery” touches include the wearing of uncut amber in lumps, strung on a gold or silver chain. Lapis lazuli, jade and cornelian come into the same modish category, similarly worn.