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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 4, Issue 8 (December 1, 1929)

Time and the “Tied.”

Time and the “Tied.”

Truly, time and tide are terminological twins, but Yuletide should neither be tied to Time nor timed to tide.

As proof of this dictatorial declaration, let us suppose that, consequent on some lunary lapse, or a convolution in the cosmic cuisine, the Michaelmasticatory microbes were to antedate their annual activities by a moon or more, would we not still react to the bite of the boisterous bacillus, irrespective of the calculations of the calendar?

Dear sir and her, we venture to projagulate that the joy-germs would nip as niftily in Octember as in Devember.

In other words, Time, as applied to Xmas, is Not the essence of the contact.

Anyway, what is Time but a titular termigant who terrorises the timid?

Mr. Einstein, the most tireless time-killer of our times, devoted a great deal of time to proving that Time is timeless, but at the same time we are prepared to wager a boy-proof to a waterproof that while denying mean time, he was never guilty of defying meal time.

Time Is mean. Time is a scurvy cheat; he takes the best young years while we value them least, and when we totter into his place of business to redeem them he hands us nought but regrets. He encourages us to pledge the substance for the shadow, to pawn juvenility for due senility. Time's real name is Tempus McFugit; he wears a kilt and operates between the waving palms.

Some there are who testify that Time is merely the chronological crop in the process of passing through Eternity's harvester, to be chopped into chronometrical chaff and used for tabulating trains, and timing racehorses and eggs. Others aver that Time is a metrical myth manufactured to keep humanity on the hop in the hope of catching up with something that isn't there.

The more time we devote to this durational diagnosis the deadlier is our desire to bite the page 14
“The daily dictates of dismal duty.”

“The daily dictates of dismal duty.”

minute hand which leads us.

Now, having proved that time Is or Is Not (as you like it), the question before the bored is: “How can we chop up something that isn't here and dispose of it on tick?”

In view of the fact that we can neither see nor smell time, it is safe to say that on the voting, neither the eyes nor the nose have it.