WHAT WE WOMEN THINK

Radio Record, Volume III, Issue 52, 11 July 1930, Page 37

WHAT WE WOMEN THINK

WAR is being waged in London by ~ ardent feminists against those reproprietors who refuse to sérve women unaccompanied by a male estt. On the facé'of it, it does appear diculous that a méniber of either sex, able to pay for a meal, should not be allowed to eat when hungry. The rule, however, is: primarily formed for the purpose of sparing embarrassment to women ciistomers. It reminds me of a.rémote, but select, restaurant in Cairo; wheré one diningroom is reserved for men. . The proprietor, with’a sad lack of punctuation, displays -the misleading -notice, "Not proper ladies to be admitted here."B.T.C. : ® a a How little it.takes to start'a reyoluAion! "The Indian mutiny and the . Sreaked bullets were a casé in point. } The salt tax, of which we are hearing so'much ‘at:.the moment, bids fair to assume.equal notoriety. It is not an impost new to India, but an ancient ' method of’ raising revenne, which the Hast: India Company inherited ftom the Moghul Empire, . Collected at first in Bengal, it was afterwards extended to other districts. The native peasants are great consumers of salt, as one of the eondiinents to.correct the insipidity. of their-vegetable diet. . The manufac-: ture,.which has diminished in some dfs-. triets owing ‘to the’ importation of forelgn ‘salt; is largely in. the hands of. private firms. Government agents are appointed, however, as. the product is subject. to duty.-Anglo-Indian. * e Bd HILB listening to the Children’s Hour at 1YA recently, a little girl bropdcast "Somebody’s Mother." I think it is one of the most beautiful poems ever written. I admire the young lad.so much as he pauses in the -middle of his amusement to help the , poor old lady over the crossing; then, rushing back to his comrades-some of whom very probably greéted him with jéérs and laughter-he boldly declares: "She is somebody's mother, boys,. you * know, us, Although she is old and feeble and . slow, And I hope some fellow will lend a hand , To help my mother, you understand? If "ere she be old.and feeble and grey . When her own dear boy-is far away." It was a kind and noble action of which any parent would be proud; and I would ask nothing better than for a | bo of mine to possess such a heart of \ ; 4 % * e | byyit B and among whom is loneli- }"" n&cgsmost acute? It has long been ‘a tfuism, that one can be even more Jonely in a crowded city than in a deserted village; but; first of all, loneli- | ness must be defined. By it do we mean ‘lack’ of human intercourse, or lack of | intercourse with those to whom we are ‘mentally and socially attuned? An ‘overseas gathering has been discussing _ the question. The case of a lighthoyserkeepey was instanced. It was contended, however, that such a person was seldom lonely. There are duties to be performed, erggeh be hailed as they pass, and the 8] sea for company. Ancited the case of 2 village priest, ucated above his flock; and a third, hat of a school teacher, in sole charge f some remote country school. In the last -two instances, of course, a certain amount of ostracism is sometimes

suffered, because the lonely ones are felt to be "a cut above" their fellows, and not important enough for the society of thé biggei people of the enighbourhood. Truly, it is a sorry thing to be "neither fish, flesh, nor fowl-nor good red herring." It would be inter-. esting to know when some of us have felt at our loneliest.- (Inquirer. ) % * * FXCUSDS for non-attendance at "~ gehool are often more ingenious than truthful. The following received at a Palmerston North school certainly bears the impress of truth. . "Please excuse Teddie being: absent yesterday, as I wanted a little holiday at the races, and there would have been nobody at home to mind the kiddie." " Well, ‘well, e¥en opén confession is good for the soul, and the truth wil! out sometimes, even in an affidavit. .

"Trs ill-living jn a henhouse if you don’t like fleas,’ said Mrs. Poyser in "Adam Bede." How many people stop to consider that to some it’s ill, living in a modern house if you don’t like radio. The generation that has grown up since the war has been reared on noise; sometimes music, sometimes not. It used to be: "Let’s have a singsong." Then followed, "For goodness sake put on a lively record." Now it is: "Twelve o’clock’s struck. Turn on the wireless someone." Most owners of radio sets go through a ‘stage when they turn the set on all the time for fear of missing something, and it is quite a surprise when one of the family who is trying to work out a bridge problem says despairingly, "I wish you'd turn off that infernal wireless," Like all good things, it is possible to have too much of it, and it is the older

genération who have not béen reared on any cruder noise thah the delicate tinkle of a piano, who feel it most. Have you néticed the agonised expression of an eldetly aunt who comes to tea and tries in vain to make het’ description of déar Dorothy’s baby heard above the strains of the Kanawha Singers, who urge her in no gentle manney ta "keep in de middle of de. road"? Radio is a priceléss possession and it has brought endless interest and amusement into many lives, but do let

ws remember that there are times when it is kinder to "turn it off." More could be said on this subject, but the clock is striking three, and there is a football match in Ohristchyrch to-day!--"Vane," ye % A SENSE of humour is invaluable at all times, but all the more so when a joke against oneself can be appreciated. . ‘Rudyard Kipling tells the following story. During a stay in Wiltshire one summer he met little Dorothy Drew, Mr. Gladstone’s granddaughter. As he was very ford of children, he took her for a long walk in the park and told her storiés. After a time Mrs, Drew, who feared that Kipling must be tired of the ¢hild, called Her and said: "T hope, Dorothy, you have not been wearying Mr. Kipling." "Ob, not a pit, mother," replied the child, "I have been letting him weary me." And this from Bernard Shaw. The first production of his "Arms afid the Man," as we all know, was a great sueeess.. When the curtain fell there were loud calls for the author. The audience were still cheering when Mr. Shaw appeared, but there was one man in the gallery who was booing all the time, Mr. Shaw looked up at the gallery and said: "Yes, six, J] quite agree with you, but what can we two do against a whole house?"’=--R.N.S. * . * . Gra JAMES BARRIW has been Iamenting the fact that, for some reason or other, his heroines never developed along the Jines he intended. They insisted on remaining conventional and respectable, in spite of his desire to. scandalise. Another eminent Seot, Robert Louis Stevenson, seems also to have had difficulty with the womenfolk of his imagination, for none of them are arresting or outstanding. To whose women, I wonder, should the palm be awarded, Some of Thackeray's ca

would be hard to beat, but surely those o£ George Meredith aud Jeffery Farho] appeal strongly.-Bookworm, * Py Ps HE year after Queen Victoria eame to the throne, Sully, the painter, was commissioned to paint her Majesty’s portrait. After three or four sittings, the painter told the Queen that he need not trouble her further if she would allow his daughter to sit in her Majesty’s place. Being at experiereed model, Miss Sully was accustometl to posing withotit moving for long periods at a time, dll the tore nécessary when jewels are to be portrayed to avoid the play of light, The Queen readily consented. Miss Sully was enchanted to hear that she was to accompany her father to.the palace the next day, but, as most girls would have done in. her place, bemoaned the fact that she had "nothing to.wear"’-only her black silk dregs with green stripes. However, to sit in that she was obliged; moreover, on the Royal Throne and wearing the Royal Crown. When the sitting had lasted some time, the double doors of the Throne Room were thrown open and the

Queen announced. Miss Sully relates that, on entering, the Queen gave her oie glance, laughed, and dropped her the deepest of curtseys. Then the Queen laughed again and pointed to their dresses. The Queen’s was also of black silk with green stripés, exactly like Miss Sully’s own, except that the stripes were a little wider. Not pretty, but with a lovely complexion and bonny brown hajy, parted in the middle and drawn into a large knot at the back; is Miss Sully’s description of Queen Victoria. in 1838. The refreshments which the Qieen ordered for Miss Sully consisted of wine, served in gilt erystal glassés with gold filagree holders, and cakes on gold plates. So many queen cakes were among the latter that Miss Sully asked her father if her Majesty were allowed to eat nothing but qltieera caked.

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