RANDOM SHOTS

Auckland Star, Volume LIV, Issue 299, 15 December 1923, Page 18

RANDOM SHOTS

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Cricketers would say that Sir. Baldwin "declared" too soon. On England's head be her fate. Mr. Massey told her what she should do, and she didn't do it. Can it be that the great increase in the consumption of water is partly due to the watering of stock —not the fourfooted kind? Our hippopotamus was unhappy at sea. An elephant with toothache has always struck mc as a terrifying thought, but a sea-sick hippopotamus—! I hesitate to believe the report that a child was punished in a local school for saying that one of the chief industries of Auckland was selling sections. A Palmerston North doctor has explained to a patient why leeches are not used now. Possibly figurative forms of bleeding have taken their place. Mr. Massey attended a function to celebrate the development of the export of eggs from New Zealand to England. The Socialist would say that this was the lightest aspect of the Imperial yoke. Headings about the Spahlinger consumption treatment: "Professor's Lack of Horses." "Appeal to New Zealand Mayors." An appeal to just the right quarter. "In view of the fact that considerable opposition had been organised to the proposals (Mount Eden loans) a great deal of interest was displayed, and approximately 30 per cent of the electors exercised their rights." Wonderful! Some day we may have quite half the ratepayers taking the trouble to vote, and the world will be made really safe from democracy. I grow restive under the persistent over-shadowing of the bridegroom in reports of weddings. We are always told what the bride wore, both at the ceremony and as she stepped into the motor car. Why are we not told what the bridegroom wore? Candid references to his clothes would enliven these reports, which I think most men find rather dull. For example: "The bridegroom wore a morning coat, striped trousers, and a tall hat. Obviously he was ill at ease in them, which was not surprising, seeing that he had never worn them before, and knowing that he would probably never wear them again, grudged the money they had cost, which might have been much more usefully spent on a comfortable arm-chair or a sideboard for his new home." Those who saw "Enter Madame" may have been intrigued by the instrument played by Madamc's chef. At least I was. It seemed to combine features of the clarionet and the trombone, the notes being made by something that slid up and down in the lower end. As a maker of music it was not impressive. I now learn that this is a Swanee whistle, and that a tale hangs to one of these instruments in Auckland. A man old enough to know better bought it for his own amusement, but his wife threatened to take divorce proceedings if he did not get rid of it, so he had to put it away. By and by came requests from the local Church for things for a sale of work. Would they like a Swanee whistle? Delighted! A few days later the man who had worked off the instrument of torture through the Church was asked by a fellow suburbanite if he was the person from whom it came, because his boy had bought it at the bazaar, and . . . . well, you can imagine the rest. Moral, there are limits even to the Church as a depository of sine. THE COMTLAINT OF THE T.OCNGER SISTER. My father's bought a section at the end of Don't-Know- Where; And mothers got a seaside patch, "where the long-backed breakers iroon"; And Percy's going about In clothes so niucli the worse for wear, Because he's [paying off the piece of land at Silver-noon. And Mary's temper's worn to shreds because the bol)S she earns, Which used to go In pictures, Jazz, and gauzy silken hose. Now flow out weekly to the man who sold for Summer ferns. Where (see the ml.) the aim Is qneen, and the wind of magic blows. And Gwen, who used to be so free with clothes, that I could count On half a dozen blouses—now, ehe doesn't buy a bow; What used to warm the draper's heart now goes to Morning Mount. "You can't m> wrong nut there," she We used to be a h-appy home; we'd tallc at every meal, Of Mary. Done, and Charley Chap., and Tola Negri's eyes; And how the smile of Constance T. would make an image feel; And whether "No Bananas" was as good as "Jazzy Skies." But Dow the talk is nil of land—of frontage, depth and lot. And how much profit time will bring and whether one should sell. When mother nsks for money, dad Jumps up and says "Great Scott! "What bave yon dune with what I cave?" And she replies, "O, well. "I have to pay on Knlmy Lands—you know as well sis 1 !'" And so we cut the pictures down, and Bfrape and skimp ill pain, And all C>r something better in the ?loudy by-and-by; Wouhl that the boom would cease and give us happiness again! DON'TS FOR CHRISTMAS SHOPPING. Don't leave your shopping till Christmas Eve. Don't pull Santa Claus' beard. The gum might be first-class. Don't go in without the slightest idea what you're going to buy. Don't mind if other shoppers dig you in the ribs and stand on your toes. This is Christmas, remember. Besides, your tram experience should have hardened you. Don't object too strongly if the assistant gives you the wrong thing. You are luckly to get anything. Don't ask a harassed assistant for the "Meditations of Marcus Aurelius," but out of consideration for him, keep on the level of "If Winter Comes." Don't buy a pair of jazz braces for dad. There are limits to the brighter Auckland movement. Don't present soft leather Tennysons to youne ladies without being quite sure of their testes. They collect a lot of dust in after voars. Don't give "High Jinks' , to your sister, and "Holy Living and Holy Dying" to your grandmother, but do it the other way about. Don't forget to give your wife a packet of hair pins. They are indispensable to the smoker.