NEWS OF THE SIXTH COMPETITION

The Editor has offered a prize of £5 for a Reminiscence of not more than 500 words of prose. The result will be announced in next week's issue.

WE have really received very few curious anecdotes, such as the magazines printed a hundred years ago. We have had interesting experiences—and some not so interesting—and narrow escapes and excitements, but scarcely any curiosities —scarcely any rounded-off incidents that are self-contained and surprising. We might have a suspicion that that wide- eyed state of mind in which our ancestors lived and from which they drew much grave entertainment has left us for a reason- able mood in which we will not go out of our way for signs and wonders. If we see one we bring it horiae and train it out of Its wild habits till it is as domesticated as a pet rabbit.

But there is a compensation. Obviously our competitors have through their lives been as impressed by small, consistent events as our forbears were awestruck and credulous about strange and inconsistent events.

Thus " Aunt Margaret " writes a delicious account of herself wandering full of admiration and wonder in a huge London shop and of her shame and awe when she had to apply twice in a morning to its lost property office : Mrs. Watkin and Miss Streatfield both write of their first visit to Venice as being their keenest and happiest recollection. Others tell of little events of childhood, of picturesque old servants and country people. There are some accounts of storm at sea of which the most interesting is perhaps " Traveller's," who tells of a voyage across the Atlantic fifty years ago in a first-class steamship of

3,000 tons.

We have received a good many " narrow escapes," and it has been interesting to compare the thoughts and behaviour of the victims. Miss Mary Beck confesses that she had often wondered how she would behave in a situation involving danger to her life. One day the test came. She was being • rowed across the lower end of the lake of Halstatt, in Austria, by a couple of boys, one of them a half-wit, when suddenly a tremendous storm broke out. The boat was spun round and round and the boys were quite unable to control the boat :-

" My interest in what was passing had been so keen that I had not thought of myself at all, but I now realized fully that the great adventure of pit, sing into the unknown region might be close at hand. But I still felt an interested spectator at an event . . . prepared for either issue. A perfectly reasonable train of thought was passing through my mind, beginning with a certain satisfaction that expenses for my funeral would be saved. The only thing I instinctively clung to was a bag of soft black cherries I had just bought. I was watching the younger boy : he looked magnificent while he strained every muscle and nerve ; his fair hair was tossing in the wind, his blue eyes became dark and dilated. I hoped he could swim."

Luckily they were saved, and Miss Beck ends :—

" I now think that I shall be ready for the great adventure when it does come, but that the interest in life and the sense of possession will last to the end—even if it means only a bag of cherries ! '

There are one or two " psychic " experiences. The most striking is certainly " Miles " account of a vision he had while his squadron were bivouacking in an open Afghan fort, and he was on orderly duty at midnight :—

" Looking across the plain a mere speck far off suddenly caught my eye. As I watched it seemed to come nearer—perhaps a stray animal or some tribesman intent on cutting the telegraph wires ! . . . I at last made it out to be a horse and rider—possibly a mes- senger, yet he would hardly have chosen such a cross-country route ! Still they came on at the gallop, bee-line for the fort . . . the horse fretted and reached at the bridle, the rider swayed to and fro in the saddle, gripped and snatched convulsively at the reins. A glint of moonlight falling on the metal disclosed a drawn sword athwart the home's neck. Fascinated and spellbound, I watched the reckless pair and feared they must smash themselves against the fortress walls. But no ! in extended stride, toes dug in the sand, the horse stopped dead within a yard or so of the wall—the rider, helmet awry on the back of his neck, hands tight clenched on sword and reins, looked up for one brief second ; in a flash his face was revealed—the face of a friend then serving with his regiment at Cabul. Even as stunned and bewildered I gazed, the vision faded and I saw nothing but emptiness and long stretches of desert sand. Weeks afterwards when at Cahill I heard the manner of his death. The guns had been in danger, his squadron had been ordered to charge, his horse, a restive animal, had taken fright and bolted and carried him into the midst of the enemy, where he had been cut down before help could be given. The body, almost unrecognisable, had been recovered, brought back to his mess and buried next day Had my brain played some weird trick—or had my dear little friend indeed come to bid me a last good-bye ? '

" Luscus " describes a parish church of sixty years ago :---

" . . . the recital of practically all the operative parts of the Prayer, book was followed by a sermon of at least forty minutes . . . some. times there was a charity sermon . . and on one of these occasions the preacher was a venerable man in the great lawn sleeves of a bishop, and, incredible as it may seem, a genuine clerical horsehair. wig, which he must have been the last, or one of the very last, to wear. He was Archbishop Sumner, who died in 1862. But the rector and his curates always wore in the pulpit a Geneva gown and bands. A surpliced preacher was, as we all knew, a concealed Romanist."

Miss Ross Crawford sends us some amusing memories a Liszt, of which we quote an extract " I was at a villa when a note came from Mine. H— enclosing a telegram : Lundi Tustin viendra chez vous votre tres devoue Liszt.' On Monday I drove down to Florence. Liszt stayed some days. On Tueiday about 6 p.m. he announced he had invited a crowd to come, some to dinner. Mme. H= sent out to hotels, for food and waiters—it was for Liszt, fenfant gate de l'Europe." During dinner something annoyed him and he retired afterwards to sulk in M. H—'s study, leaving Mme. H— to amuse his guests. I was indignant and marched off for a frontal attack.. ' M. l'Abbe, on vous attend.' Ces gens-18 m'ennuient. Je ne viers pas.' And who invited les gens-la, ? ' I demanded, and; spoke with furious frankness. Mails quelle petite spitfire ! ' (pro, nounced speet-feere ') he exclaimed. I wore a frock embroidered; with daisies and had fair hair. 'One vraie petite Marguerite,' he commented. Eh Bien, M. l'Abbe, soyez mon Faust et venal." He jumped up laughing, took my hand, and I led him in triumph, to the music-room, where he played with that marvellous touch which seemed to make the sound float out of the piano without percussion."

We will finish by quoting two very readable and amusing recollections sent in, the first by Miss N. H. Connolly and the second by " Parson " :—

" It was getting dusk, and I was alone in a second-class railway carriage between Florence and Rome. A native labourer boarded the train and, to my surprise, entered the second-class compartment. He was the usual cut-throat in appearance, to whom I had become more or less accustomed. He made me, however, a little uncom- fortable as he crouched in the opposite corner, because he kept his gaze so steadily on my face. It soon became too dark to see beyond the window, and the dim lights of the carriage made reading im- possible. The situation grew more uncomfortable, since I could not help seeing every movement the man made. He took off his coat and tossed it to one side then, still with his eyes on my face, , drew from his belt an ugly-looking knife. Do you wonder I glanced, toward the open window as a possible means of escape ? With this my cut-throat reached over, seized the leathern window- strap, and closed the window. By this time my feelings could not be described other than that I seemed fascinated, and I deliberatelyi watched every move the man made. It was easier to do this, as now his attention was turned to the strap. He scrutinized it carefully then cut as long a strip therefrom as the length permitted ; tested the strength of the strip, and, as if to give himself greater freedom for action, jerked his right shoulder free of the suspender. I was sure the man was mad and had cut that leathern thong to strangle me with. I tried to scream but could not. Then I saw him cut a piece from the thong, and with deliberation and great. precision, proceed to mend his suspender."

" One Sunday afternoon in July, 1904, a friend of mine, whom I will call the Rev. A., after lunching with a certain Dr. B., walked with me from the town in which we both lived to a neighbouring village, where he had to take an afternoon service. As we entered the churchyard, he espied a dirty piece of paper by the side of the path. Well,' said he, surely a churchyard is a fitting place for an interment,' and forthwith he prodded the offending fragment into the ground with , his umbrella. A trivial circumstance, but it proves he was carrying his umbrella. As we returned home after the service, heavy clouds were gathering in the sky and caused us' some misgivings, especially as Mr. A. found he had left his umbrella behind in the vestry. We continued our journey,. however, and! risked the wetting, for there was an evening service in town to be' considered, and besides, he knew he had to go out again the next day.; I met him on the Thursday and he told me he had not found hist umbrella, but that the sexton's wife declared that he had it with him, when returning home on Sunday afternoon, for she had remarked. to her husband that she was glad he had, for there was evidently: a storm brewing. We assured each other that the good woman must have been mistaken, and we let it pass. The next day I saw% the Rev. A. again, and he waved his umbrella triumphantly in my face. Eureka!' he cried ; behold my missing umbrella !" And where did you find it ? ' I asked with some interest, for the matter had aroused my curiosity, At Dr. B.'s house.' was the astonishing reply, ' for it seems I left it there on Sunday afternoon and never took it to church after all. But, surely,' said I, you remember prodding that piece . of paper into the ground with it, and besides, what about Mrs. C.'s statement that she saw you carrying it home ? " Yes, I remember all that,' acknowledged Mr. A., but here is my umbrella, handed to me half-an-hour ago by Dr. B., who solemnly declares that it has been in his hall- stand since Sunday.' My tale is done, and as I have no explanation to offer, your readers can take their choice of the three statements: mine, that the umbrella was taken out but not brought back ; Mrs. C.'s, that it certainly was brought back; and Dr. B.'s, that it was never taken out at all."