Passing Notes.

Digger (Invercargill RSA), Issue 41, 24 December 1920, Page 6

Passing Notes.

BY JACQUES.

i Laugh where. we must, be candid whare we can. — Pope.

Possibly Mr Massey can, by some sort cf mental legerdemain, reconcile his actions and opinion of yesteirday with those of to-day, but certainly no one else on God's fair earth can. A little while ago, when discussing the proposed regulation of buttcr prices in the interests of Dominion consumers he laid particular emphasis on the danger of attempting interference with the "iron laws of supply and demand," and pointed out New Zealand prices must be fixed by the world's markets. Yet, with most brazen change of face, he is, at this very moment, fighting tooth and nail (but in the interests of the wool growing fat man this time) to beat he aforementioned "iron law" to a jelly, and mahe New Zealand the arbiter of the world's prices — atleast so far as our wool is concerned. To this end he proposes to still further inflate our paper currency (while the rest of the sane world is striving desperately to shrink it in order to avert disaster) and so push the cost of living up to such a height that in a little while a pound note will buy nothing but another pound note. How on earth the wily William manages to wrench these opopsing attitudes into harmony with each other, or both, or either, witli his promised square deal, or all with his conscience (charitably assuming his possession of such a thing) is one of those things that some of us would give a lot to find out. An unnamed Dominion has recently placed contracts with Germany totalling £400,000, the lowest British price being £680,000." This item of news was, a few days since, shrieked out to us by the cableman in a tone that plainly indicated horror and alarm at an ominous patriotic laxity scunewhere within the Empire. That any Dominion (unnamed) should place its orders with our late enemy for the sake of a beggarly £280,000 is past the understanding of that shopkeeping mind, which regards passive and humble submission to robbery — provided the robbers are our countrymen — as an essential of true patriotism. Well, there are some who think differently, and who hold that in the British profiteer we have quite as powerful and deadly a foe as we had in Fritz, and who will have to be taught just as severe a lesson. For my own part, I -consider that the amplest atonement that Germany can make for her manifold past inquiries is to assist in the speedy and utter smashing of the piratical crew who, while assiduous in voicing Ihe loftiest patriotic sentiments, have so long made their country's extremity the occasion of shameless plunder. And the man or Dominion that will not assist her in the good work should seek out a good thistle patch — that is, if the profiteer is not there with a lien on it. "Creel," who runs the Ananias's (beg pardon, theangling column) dn this paper evidently takes his hobby very seriously. At times he grows quite sentimental over it, and, like Silas Wegg, "drops into poetry" of the passionate order, mixing up "fishing brogues," "God," the "Devil" "lost loves" and other things in delightful promiscuity. At others, he becomes distinctly religious, and dei»eants on the spiritualising influences of "flies," "tackle," "seven-pounders," etc. The fisherman, we are told, "on the banks of the babbling brook, with the canopy of the heavens as his church, and the song of the .sweet birds filling the air like some grand celestial choir, feels within himself full reverence for Him who made this universe of ours, etc., etc." Well, "Creel" is to be congratulated on his discovery of a new type of angler. I must confess that I haven't met that sort yet. The kind that I know are more concerned with the state of the weather and the water in "the babbling brook," the likliest place for a catch and other prosaic things like that, than with "giving thanks in an unostentatious duly reverent manner" to the Deity for "blue skies" and "free air." Certainly, I grant "Creel" that, say, a week's fishing will make its impression on the spirits. One can see that by counting the empty bottles around any pld fishing camp. "C -d" says: "To the true angler it is a grand world." I

wonder what the fisli, which has just been landed with a hook in its gullet, would have to say to that. Which reminds me. It was in the back parlour of Bert Stiven's tavern, and the talk was of fish and fishing. After all the other liars had done, the quiet little fellow with the bald head spoke from his corner. (It was not "Creel," by the way). "Well, you can say what you like, but for big fish the Waimatuku beats anything else that I know. Was out there last Saturday, and at the first throw hooked the biggest thing in fins and scales that I've ever seen. Took me three hours to land him. Talk about a whoppet!" "How big ? What weight ?" came from the other envious and expectant liars. "Well, unfortunately, I omitted to weigh or measure it. And I'd hate to make up figures, or otherwise lie about it. But one thing I did notice: that was that as I yanked him out the river fell about three inches." (Again I say it was not "Creel.") Few maxims will bear close analysis, especially such as are called from the writings of poets. Many are very like soap bubbles — pretty to look at, but hollow and fragile. They are plentiful (there is one or more for every possible occasion) and cheap, which is, perhaps, why we are so prodigal of them. We scatter thern, daily, right and left, without ever stopping to examine them; we are quite satisfied that, because our faVourite poet, or someone else, has said something before us, it must be true. Nor are we always careful as to its applicability. I am moved to the present grumble by the fact that four times within the last week I have met in my reading Burns' famous couplet : "Oh! wad some power the giftie gie us To see ourselves as others see us." And in every case it seemed to me its use had dubious warrant. Possibly the Prophet.of Ayr never intended the lines to have the wide and reckless application that Scotsmen everywhere give them. But, be that as it may, the pious wish was of very doubtful wisdom. For what others see of us is often but a very sinai! part of a very great whole. They see the deed only, and not the circumstance ; and, in judging us on the little that they see, they often err as much on the side of severity as we ourselves are prone to do on the side of charity, when surveying our own action. If every man saw himself only as others see him, and so ju^ged himself as others judge him, there would be few outside the walls of the insane asylum in a very little while. It seems the more strange that Burns should have written such lines in that few men have suffered more from the harsh judgment — based on the little that they could see — of his fellowmen than he. Bill's fa.ce wore a smile of reasonable benevolence when he came over last evening. No, he did not want to borrow anything, just came for a yarn. "Well, Jax," he begun meditatively, "Cris'mus is nearly here again. They seems to come quicker . an' quicker every year. When yer a kiddie, they're ten years apart; when yer on the down grade from fifty there's on'y about ten weeks between 'em. Funny things, Cris'musses. 'Bout the on'y time yeh can eat all yeh want without bein' called a glutton, an' can be respectable with a skinful of beer. All over the town the womenfolk 'ave been 'ard at work fer the last week gettin' everything ready fer the big gorge. Cakes an' puddin's all made ; geese, turkeys, an' other feathered things mostly pluclced an' ready fer bakin'. New potatoes an' green peas stacked up in the scullery, an' the oi' man's little keg ready fer the tap. An' think what it means to the kiddies — yeh was one yerself, Jax, if I'm not mistaken. They've been looking' forward to it fer months — ever since last Cris'mus, in fact. It means as much as they can eat of the things they like best, an' chance the castor oil next day . An' old Sandy Claus is sure

to come — dad an' mum 'ave fixed the white whiskered oi' fellow up alright, as yeh could see if yeh could look into the locked wardrobe. I'm not very soft, Jax, but I 'ate to think there's any kiddy anywhere that oi' Sandy'll ferget to call on. Jus' fancy 'ow the poor little devil would feel. It would be too tough, altogether. Pr'aps the best thing about Cris'mus, Jax, is that fer one day in the year we get very near to bein' properly civilised. Fer that one day we stop cuttin' each other's throats, an' doin' to others the things that make you mad when the others do them to you. We 'ave a sort of truce, an' everybody wants to shake everybody's 'and, an' wish 'im all sorts of good luck. We all grin an' ferget our troubles— unless 't may be that an' empty chair at the Cris'mus table brings a sigh or two. We do our best to be real decent to each other for once, an' find, to our surprise, that it's not so 'ard, after all. It's a great pity, J-ax, that we don't all make a big try to carry that fine, old Cris'mussy feeling right through the other three 'undred an' sixty four days of the year as well." Just then we heard his wife calling him to "come an' kill the geese," and he moved off. Bill is very obedient to authority.