Northern Wisconsin advertiser. [volume] (Wabeno, Wis.) 1898-1925, 1916-09-15

dEU which nobody was ever al
lowed to use. My father
had so much pewter In his home tnat
the place almost tinkled as you
crossed the threshold. My only sister
has a unique assortment of samplers
to show for a life of industry and
vigilance. Is it any wonder that l in
herited the collecting habit? asks Percy
Waxman in the New York Trib-
une. Then he goes on to tell his
story:
My acquisitive instinct, however,
has taken an entirely different turn.
/ am collector of tastes. From
early childhood the gustatOry novelty
has possessed an inordinate charm for
curiosity where unheard-of edibles
are concerned
Needless to say, this rather unusual
form of the collecting mania from
which l suffer has led me into many
queer eating adventures, some Of
which have proved most amusing as
well as highly instructive.
AS boy lived in Australia, and it
was there that l handled my first gun.
1t was presented to me on my twelfth
birthday. 1 had to promise to shoot
only for educational purposes or to
obtain food.
Fifteen miles away from the city of
Melbourne is delightfully."- hilly dis
trict known as Diamond creek. I de-
cided that Diamond creek should be
the scene of my first attack on the
brute creation.
In and out of the gum tree cloisters
l scraped and snooped and lodged,
aping the heroes of all the hunting
stories I had ever read On and on l
painted till at last 1 saw a strange
looking bird alight on top of a blue
gum. A joyful tremor went through
me.
l poised my gun. 1 took aim. I
pulled the trigger. Bang! and oh,
joy of joys down fell my first game"
To my boys eyes my bird seemed
the largest, widest and most ferocious
thing in the world. In reality it was
q
at the bird. 1t was quite strange to
me. | had never seen it's like before.
The sun was straight overhead.
That meant lunch. The brilliant in
spiration came to me that in obedience
to my promise I ought to eat my
prey. l cleaned him in the creek as a
boy cleans things and patiently roasted
my quarry. And then I ate him. The
flavor seemed a little disappointing. 1t
did not taste anything like the kind
of game | got at home. It tasted al
most queer"
Several days later l again went
shooting, this time accompanied by a
much older boy, who knew lots and
lots about game and bush lore and
things. To my delight, shortly after
we had plunged into the bush 1
brought down another of these gray
birds and proudly came running to
where my companion was, to show him
my prize. To my amazed horror he
burst out laughing.
"And is that the kind Of bird you
ate?" he roared. do you know what
that is?"
"No."
"That is butcher bird! It's one
of the buzzard family"
/ don't suppose many of my readers
have ever slipped the delectable thirst
destroyer known as kava. 1 sincerely
hope not. It's native heath is Samoa.
r Of +ha al In
spiration to be derived from hashish,
sake and other exotic liquids, and be-
fore landing in Apia l used to wonder
If Robert Louis Stevenson's affiatus
had ever received any assistance from
kava.
1t was almost under the shadow of
Stevensop's own Vailma that my own
brief, never-to-be-fOrgotten plunge in
to a bowl of kava splashed it's way
indelibly into my personal history.
1 had sneaked off by myself to pay
a visit to a native hut. There in a
cone-shaped, matched, beehive-like
abode of smell / was invited to try
the famous Samoan drink, Whitley
gray liquid much befrothed, resem-
bling for al1sthe world that which is
found in the humble boiler on Mon
days after the linen has just been
hung out TO dry.
My first sip tasted all right, and l
think l became perhaps little over
confident and increased the pressure
of my intake too speedily. Five min
utes after my first sip | was whirling