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Aviation History
1915
1915 - 0807.PDF
OCTOBER 22, 1915. rjussg RHETORIC is with me an unlearned art; I am no rhetori cian. Do I try to write rhetorically, my thoughts refuse to think, I become involved, I come to loose ends, I flounder. Never was man so wilfully unlearned in flowery language. Mid-Victorian by date of entry, I was born when rhetoric was making one of its bold stands for favour. Scarce did my baby lips become moistened by Other than mother-food than I was taught to call a rake a garden implement, though even at that date the hoardings were asking for a spade to be called a spade. I am of the plain men, and so that I write good plain English, understandable to good plain English men and women, I am content. Though I am not of a temperament poetic, whose knights supposedly exist on rhetoric, having neither long hair nor a flowing tie, yet do I, in my small way, occasion ally feast me right royally on the beauties of nature, allowing my imagination for what it is worth to transport me whither it will into the realms of poetry. To me, moonlight is poetic; it changeth the face of nature. Not that nature, glorious as she is, needeth changing, but to plain men, having eyes and no eyes, seeing and not seeing, something is needed at times to bring her glories under notice, to present facts in a new light. Walk with me in my beautiful forest of Epping, when the moon is at the full, and in my company shall you be transported to Fairyland. Linger with me a few moments in Monks Woods midst the mighty beeches, where the myriad wild-flowers lend their perfume to excite the senses, and you shall see at a little distance, where the silver-birches stand round in sentinel array, the pearly sheen of the gossamer wings where the fairies dance their fantastic circle in the moonbeams. Stand with me on the hill-top, where the obelisk to Queen Boadicea casts its shadow sundial-wise at our feet, and gaze out over the hills and vales of Middlesex and Hertfordshire ; over London and to St. Paul's dome, yea, even to the Crystal Palace, itself become beautiful in the moonlight, and you shall guess at Fairyland : seest thou ever anything more beautiful ? But write it down a moonlight night. Do I try to think of it as Fair Luna shedding her silvery beams athwart the azure sky, I think only that the Zeppelins will not come to-night, and the fair expanse changes from Fairyland to a place on which to drop hellish Hun bombs, killing women and innocent children. I have no quarrel with rhetoric, even though it be not of my understanding, yet have I a grievance. For the last word in the last line of my last " Reflec tions " I wrote "Mother." Somewhere between the upper end of the blue pencil, and the machine minder, it became changed into "Revered Maternal Parent." It did not greatly matter. It was a skittish article, pretend ing nothing, carrying no great thought. Perhaps the power with authority to alter and mutilate, alter and improve, thought of "Mother" as I should have thought of it—as a word too sacred to be used lightly. But had I so thought, I would not have sought subterfuge; I would have deleted the whole sentence ; I could not substitute for mother. Revered Maternal Parent savours, to me, something of household possession. No auctioneer (rhetoric would have it " Official Valuer "), when my poor belongings are ranged on the lawn for non-payment of the supertax, shall ever cry " Lot 54. One Revered Maternal Parent, in good preservation." Reader. You have barne with me thus far. You have tried to gather whither I wish to lead you : what is it all about ? I have tried your patience to the utteimost, your interest is beginning to flag, yet must I endeavour to hold you to the end. I must throw you a sop. I must whet your appetite and tickle your palate, so that of sheer curiosity you shall continue to read ; here then is my Hon d'auvre. The last word on this page shall be written rhetorically, though I had much rather write plainly. Nay! I pray you look not at the word prematurely, else is all that follows superfluous. Art thou a woman my pleadings shall probably be all in vain. Thou wert ever prone to touch the paint to ascertain for thine own assurance whether it be really wet; yea, even from the earliest. But bear with me a short while, and I shall try to save even thee from thine own curiosity. 1 shall give thee other similar word ; I shall set thee riddles ; thou wert ever fond of riddles even as thou art thyself the Queen thereof. The word I would use were I left to my own unpoetic devices is not a delicate word. Used as an adjective governing the nouns wood, or fruit, or other, it is but barely passable. To use it as I would use it, wrongly, it is a slang term. Yet, had I my way ; were there no blue pencil; did I not know that certainly it should never see the light of day in cold type, I would use it, though the sanctum sanctorum fall about my ears. But your patience is at an end. You can wait no longer. Even you, mere man, have already taken a sly glance at that last word, and have gone back to read the few remaining; few, because having approached so closely, it is hardly within the possibilities of human nature not to peep. Therefore I might even finish now and spare my carts in writing words which shall be never read. I think the shooting of our anti aircraft gunners, on the night of the Zeppelin raid was—UNFORTUNATE. ® ® ® ® German Air Raid Rehearsals. ACCORDING to the German paper*, rehearsals arranged to test the arrangements made in Bremen, Kiel, Dantzig, Hamburg, and other German towns, to protect the public did not have the effect intended. For weeks the public have been instructed what to do, but when the alarms went off people flew panic-stricken into the streets, congregated in various places, or rushcl to the military headquarters for protection. The newspapers warn the public to show greater self-possession on the neat occasion. 807
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