Mundane Musings

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 110, 30 July 1927, Page 20

Mundane Musings

“A Merry Heart”

“A merry heart,” says someone somewhere (probably in the Bible, since most bright remarks seem to have been said there first), “is a continual feast.” Just so, and after influenza that particular feast, being one of the few you can digest, has a unique savour. Jim and I had staggered downstairs, after four days of comparing temperatures, still aching in every limb. Visitors had been as scarce as oysters in the Sahara. Conversation between us had reached a deadlock. When Gardener requested the favour of a few words, we welcomed his coming as that of a second St. Gabriel. Gardener is an old and valued servant. Cheery news of budding tulips and roses tripped through my mind. But they didn’t trip long. Gardener was dressed with unfamiliar neatness, and wore a black tie. He stood in the doorway, regarding our drooping figures with pensive foreboding. “ 'Ow are you, mum?” he inquired, and without drawing breath added, in tones of pride: “I’ve just bin to a funeral! ” “Oh!” I said faintly. “Yes, 'm—young George’s. Bied of this ’flu!” “Really!” said Jim, with a slight shudder. “Ah!” agreed Gardener, with relish. “It takes young and old, as you might say. I was only hearin’ to-day, sir, of those two young men in the Warwick Lane. Twenty-nine and twentysiven, sir.” (Those are the exact ages of Jim and myself). “Turned to newmonier, with them. This day fortnight. Both under the ground now, mum!” “Tell us another funny story, Gardener!” I besought, with ghastly facetiousness. Thus encouraged, he continued: “It is a funny thing, though, 'm. There’s young Mr. Slade—brother of Mr. Slade, the chemist, you know. ’Ale and 'earty Toosday three weeks. Put away the day afore yestiday. Only thirty-five, ’e was. Complained of pains in ’is back on the Thursday, and —you’re looking very pulled down yourself, sir, if I may say so!” “Gardener,” interposed Jim, hastily, “I think I see a strange dog in the tulip bed!” So we lured him forth into the outer darkness. A merry heart is a better feast for the convalescent than a bunch of grapes!

A doormat of cocoanut fibre may be washed with hot soda water. Use a strong brush for the purpose. When the mat is quite clean dip the brush in a solution of salt and water and go over it again to stiffen the fibre. To keep away moths put a piece of rock-sulphur in cupboards and shelves where clothes are kept. At the very first signs of a cold try gargling with warm water in which a little salt and bicarbonate of soda have been dissolved. Use about as much of each as would lie on a three-penny-piece.