An the mirror

Ladies' Mirror, Volume 3, Issue 5, 1 November 1924, Page 2

An the mirror

REFLECTIONS ON VARIOUS THEMES BY “KNAVE O’ HEARTS”

Dear Lady in the Mirror, — Time is very like a tiger in the undergrowth. It pounces upon one unawares. Christmas, we are assured, comes but once a year, and yet one can hardly realise the truth of so obvious a chronological axiom. So rapidly does one Yuletide tread upon the heels of its predecessor that one is almost inclined to believe that the calendar must have slipped a cog somewhere and omitted to give us our due ration of intervening months. One thing that helps to foster the impression that the calendar is a pilfering cheat is that we anticipate the festival so eagerly, and start talking about Christmas and planning to make the most of its cheery days so much in advance, in which we are aided and abetted by the appearance of Christmas Annuals upon the bookstalls long before they have any seasonable excuse for their advent. They remind me of a reveller who, mistaken in the date of some fancy dress ball, arrives in full regalia several nights too early and is compelled to flaunt his motley before a somewhat astonished and nnfestive audience. CIIRI STM AS ANTICIPATIONS When December arrives, however, we needs must begin to consider Christmas in good earnest, and each December day is tilled with scheming and planning for the proper celebration of the festival. The appearance of The Ladies’ Mirror Christmas Annual on the Ist of the month, therefore, is as timely as its contents will be seasonable: it will be as necessary a part of the Christmas season as the ancient ritual of the Christmas gift. Therefore, be warned in time, and when you see the happy Maori maidens that adorn its gay cover slyly glancing at you from your newsagents’ window, remember that procrastination is the thief of opportunity. Seize Time by the forelock and act at once! Better still, to make assurance doubly sure, seize Time by the forelock and reserve a.- copy -now. After which medley of wise axioms, 1 will hie me to other matters. THE POLITICAL GAME It would lie a wise man who could predict with any assurance which way the cat of public support will jump at the elections in England, and as a discredited prophet cuts but a poor figure, and seeing that by the time you read these notes you will probably know the result, I am not so foolish as to try. I doubt very much, However, if anything very sensational will happenand whichever party returns to power, I suppose things will go on much the same as ever. Politics, especially party politics, will, I am afraid, never find a panacea for the sores of this weary world, and only when by the process of time the world returns to a state of sanity and stability, will any material improvement take place. It is a curious thing how history repeats itself each hundred years. The beginning of each century heralds war, that is succeeded by industrial unrest and distress, and by upheavals in the social system. Then comes a period of comparative quiet and development, with consequent prosperity,

until the end of the century, when wavs and rumours of war break out afresh. Governments may change and Ministers rise and fall, but the course of history seems but little affected. Still, politics arc a great game, and provide us with nearly as much food for conversation as Rugby football and the weather, so, no doubt, they have their place in the scheme of thingsbut they are an expensive pastime. It is a curious thing that the fact that the statesmanship and sagacity shown by Labour during its brief period of olhce may be its very undoing, for undoubtedly Mr. Ramsay MacDonald has grievously disappointed many of his more rabid followers by his refusal to plunge the Empire into the chaos of Utopian Socialism, while, on the other hand, he cannot offer, by a sound, if somewhat unsensational policy, many inducements to the conservative (I use the word in its unpolitical sense) voter to depart from his allegiance to parties that have undoubtedly had more experience in unexperimental legislation. I think the British working man, with whom, after all, the decision mainly rests, is a little afraid that if he returns Labour with a clear majority, he may be building, like Frankenstein, a monster whose powers may ultimately work his own destruction, and hand him over bound to those who arc too proud to work, but by no means ashamed to draw the dole. “—AND THEY LIVED HALLY EVER AFTER” Some time ago a tasty morsel for our conversational delectation was provided by a “Romance of Real Life” that might have come straight from a penny novelette: a peer’s daughter fell in love with a humble wireless operator, the son of an even more humble miner, and regardless of somewhat natural parental disapproval, followed the dictates of her heart, as they would say on the screen, and married him. Of course, the cynics at once got busy and predicted the —but most of us are glad to hear that the cynics were, for once, apparently wrong, and the match has turned out according to the best fairy-tale traditions. Lady Lleasance McKenna, who is the daughter of the Earl of Stradbroke, Governor of Victoria, is well content to have lost the world for love, and her husband having left the sea, they are living happily in a London mews, unregretful of past glories, but very appreciative of present blessings in the form of untarnished mutual affection and a small son and heir. Perhaps some day the romance will be completed by the parental forgiveness, but that apparently is yet to be achieved. • VALE I commenced these notes by indulging in some rather hackneyed remarks on the swift passage of time, and though we may not, when anticipation gilds the future, always regret the passing of the days, when partings loom ahead we would have the hours linger. It only seems but yesterday that we were all hoping that Lord Jellicoe might be persuaded, at the eleventh hour, to change his decision and stay on in the office in which he has made himself so beloved, and in which be has achieved a measure of