THE MOST informative and quietly effective speech we have heard in many a day was that made to the Empire Club in Toronto by Percy James Philip, long French correspondent of the New York Times, now that paper’s Ottawa representative. For twenty-four years Mr. Philip lived in France.
EVEN WITH the help of the Encyclopaedia Britannica it is difficult to find out how our Christmas customs got started. That is, customs apart from association of the season with the birth of Christ. Less than three hundred years ago. observance of Christmas in England was forbidden by Act of Parliament.
In your October 15 number it is stated in “Matter of Fact” that the inch originated as the thickness of a man's thumb. The word “inch” is derived from the old English word “ynce,” in turn derived from the Latin uncia, a one twelfth. In 1266 it was established as the length of three barleycorns by English statute.
Of course it was the devil ! For hadn't he sworn to come back? — And hadn't a young Cortleigh come from across the seas to defy him?
HELEN NORSWORTHY SANGSTER
HEREABOUTS.” Sir Ralph said, “it’s common knowledge that the devil once visited Ashcombe, and that some day he’ll come again.” Young John Cortleigh, for the past two months in England with the R.C.A.F., smiled uncertainly. His gaunt distinguished host and the slender fair girl on the fireside seat were smiling too, but their eyes were grave.
One of Canada's most astute political observers diagnoses the results of the Battle of the Ballots, U. S., 1940
IT WAS half-past three in the afternoon when we reached the doors of Madison Square Garden. Thousands of New York's voters were in line already, with sandwiches in their pockets. From four o’clock, when the doors opened, until half-past eleven, 23,000 people sat in the huge auditorium and cheered and stamped and booed the name of their President, and sang patriotic songs while 50,000 more jammed the streets outside.
Snow falls on our land. Snow falls in the Rockies and drifts on the prairies, Blankets the roofs of the homesteads, Frosts the green trees by the Lake of the Woods, Skirls white on Superior, Falls silent and soft on the woodlands and farmlands, Dances gay in the haze of the street lamps in city and town, Falls on the skidways of Restigouche— At Yarmouth, a shroud on the wharves; And out in the Gulf the wild banners of snow Unfurl to the trumpets of wind.
Canada is faced with an urgent housing problem already aggravated by wartime needs—What can be done about it?
LAST September Mrs. J. got sick and tired of house hunting. She and her husband had had to move to Halifax a year ago. Right now she is accommodated —if you can call it that—in a cosy little residence consisting of one room twelve feet square, a small untiled bathroom, and a windowless kitchenette which is so tiny that the door cannot be closed when anyone is in it.
Wherein an old man proves that while worldly gain may promise much, true Christmas gladness is of the heart
THE OLD man in the shabby grey suit and the drab overcoat who came one noon into the customers' room of Plindell, Bart & Plindell—Stocks and Bonds—looked around in a diffident sort of a way, then took a chair and watched with fascinated gaze the trans-lux tape travelling jerkily across the board as it recorded the day's sales on the floor of the exchange.
Says this writer: "Japan must move. Forward or bach. She cannot stand still, cannot long play for time"
WHEN Great Britain reopened the Burma Highway into China, at one minute after midnight on October 18, the nations and peoples of the Far East began, literally, to hold their breath. And Washington and London, too, regarded the Far East with strained attention, watching for Japan’s next move.
FOR the first time since Maclean’s, in its issue of February 1, 1936, began the regular series of London Letters by Beverley Baxter, we have been compelled to go to press without it. This page was held until the last minute, but while the dispatch was mailed with what seemed to be ample leeway, it has not reached us.
Under wartime restrictions life’s a fantastic tangle in the twin border towns of Rock Island, Quebec, and Derby Line, Vermont
MAURICE HECHT, the producer, scratched his head and gave e arnest thought to the idea of jumping out the second-story window of Rock Island's Opera House. Just a few days ago his leading lady had walked—or been carried —out on him to go and be separated from her vermiform appendix.
In which Blissful Fifteen flutters from crush to crash in one uneasy lesson
HONEY FIELDING regarded her English teacher dreamily, and decided that he ought to be a movie star. Honestly, he was simply super. Even his name, Clive King, was romantic. His crisply curling blond hair and deep blue eyes were simply made for a lover's part.
Canada has mountains of surplus wheat that later the Empire may need. Meanwhile it must be stored, and financed. The problem is—where, and how? And can we afford to go on growing wheat that we can’t sell?
W. A. MACLEOD
NEVER, since the days of Gargantua, has there been such a fat baby as the wheat baby Canada now has on its lap. We are proud of our baby, we are glad that it came; but it is so enormous that it is embarrassing. It has outgrown all its clothes. It is hard to handle, difficult to carry, taking up altogether too much room in the house.
Startling revelations concerning the murdered Minna Lucas cause fear to haunt those who had been her guests
MINNA LUCAS, author of an unpublished novel recently turned down by Leslie Cole. It is known to them that the failure of her novel has made Minna Lucas bitter, following closely as it has upon a motor accident in which she was badly scarred, an accident that, too, had been the cause of her engagement being broken.
KEEN rivalry among artists of the plow and their legions of supporters featured Canada's greatest spectator event of the year — the International Plowing Match held near St. Thomas, Ontario. During the four days of competition there was a record attendance of 195,000 persons.
IN THE October 1 issue of Maclean's there appeared an article on Sir Ernest MacMillan by Angus McStay. A number of readers have taken exception to a reference to the founding of the New Symphony Orchestra, which later obtained the charter of the old Toronto Symphony Orchestra.
Subscribers who are changing their addresses should advise us at least five weeks in advance so that no issues may be missed. Mailing lists have to be prepared considerably in advance of actual mailing date. If notice of change of address has not reached us before mailing list has been prepared, change cannot be made until next issue.
If you have received notice that your subscription period is nearly completed, this is to remind you of the necessity of sending in your renewal order at once. With literally thousands of new buyers and new subscribers for Maclean’s every month, even our constantly - increased press - run seldom leaves us with any copies for subscribers who have neglected to renew.
The notification from Maclean’s Magazine of the approaching expiration of your subscription is sent out well in advance. This is so that there will be no need of your being disappointed by the missing of a single issue. The demand for copies to fill new orders is so great that, despite our constantly increased press-run, we seldom have any copies left for mailing to subscribers who are even one issue in Subscribers receiving the “expiration” notice are reminded of the Importance of sending in their renewal order promptly.
It is our policy to notify all subscribers well in advance of the expiration of their subscriptions. The ever-increasing demand for Maclean’s means that most issues are practically sold out before the printing is completed: and that copies are seldom available for mailing to subscribers who are even one issue in arrears.
“If you have already sent along your renewal, please disregard this request entirely.” This sentence appears at the top of all notices sent you advising that your subscription is due for renewal. The routine of a large subscription list requires a period of a few days before a renewal can be recorded.
3. Heraldic shields. 9. Norway’s most famous playwright. 10. Semitransparent. 14. “—ho, my hearties!” 15. Two thousand pounds in reverse. 16. Even a bed of—might have thorns in it. 17. The smallest of the litter. 18. Be in the universe.
75,000 Workers Keep China's Lifeline, Reopened by Britain, in Repair
A HIGHWAY that would be considered poor in the backwoods of Canada is one of the most important in the world today. This is the Burma Road, China’s link with the outside world, and in the New York Times Magazine, Harold J. Shepstone writes about it as follows; With the best of fortune, a truck requires six full days to travel the 715 miles from Lashio to Kun Ming.
Subscribers receiving notice of the approaching expiration of their subscriptions are reminded of the necessity of sending in their renewal orders promptly. The demand for copies to fill new orders is so great that we cannot guarantee the mailing of even a single issue beyond the period covered by your subscription. To avoid disappointment, your renewal order should be mailed to us promptly when you receive the “expiration" notice.
It is impossible to make dice mathematically true. With true surfaces, the system of numbering opposes the honest manufacturer and player, as more material must be cut out to make six spots than two. Opposite faces always add up to seven, and six should turn up more frequently than the ace on the opposite side because the ace side is heavier.
CHOOSE a Grade A turkey and you provide the pick of the flock for your Christmas platter. You’ll know it by the red tag attached, which is a sure sign of tender, juicy meat and superlative flavor. Grade B birds carry a blue tag; they’re good, but haven’t quite made the superlative class and are therefore slightly lower in price.
AT Teeterville, Ontario, in a fifteen-acre tract owned by the late James Edgeworth and used as a picnic ground for generations, there stands a unique cabin, the walls of which are made of ox-yokes. From all parts of Canada Mr. Edgeworth collected these souvenirs of pioneer days.
In London a man was fined forty shillings ($8.90) for insisting on going to feed his rabbits and chickens in an area “prohibited” owing to an unexploded bomb. Nightly, despite air raids, 350 gallons of Loch Katrine water make the 400-mile trip from Glasgow to London over blacked-out rail lines.
At a meeting of Noble Ghosts, held on a recent midnight in the Crypt of St. Paul’s, Lord Nelson presiding, the following resolution was moved by the Duke of Wellington, seconded by Lord Roberts and a numerous company of soldiers, sailors, churchmen and artists whose names stand out conspicuously on the Honor Roll of Britain, and was carried unanimously:
Also His Shirt—Due to the British blockade, Italy is short of cloth, with the result that sleeveless coats and shorter pants are obligatory for Italians. Il Duce was warned that he would lose his pants if he entered the war against Britain. —Porcupine Advance.
A REPORT is to hand about a stubborn fellow in Calgary, annoyed by one of those outspoken friends who are always telling you unpleasant things about yourself. On a recent evening—a cold night it was, too — the friend said starkly to the Calgarian: “You’re getting fat.”