THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 79, 3 April 1928, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MAN ABOUT TOWN.) You've noticed maybe that some seabirds are bachelors and spinsters and that like their human prototypes they hunt singly, but in

r a their own domain. There THE LAND is, however, among AuckLUBBERS, land ngoiros a growing artificiality, and they may bo seen occasionally, not only on ploughed paddocks hunting for game the sea never grew, but in the parks being artificially fed from the luncheons of the numerous people who take their sandwiches and sunshine at the same time. Seabirds, fiercest and most cruel of all living creatures, do not permit interference gladly and usually fight all coiners; but in the parks, where artificial feeding has weakened their ferocity, you may find pigeons, among the seagulls sharing the mid-day meal. There is, of course, no affinity between the two species, and thd pigeon is not a fighter, but the seagulls for unexplained reasons permit him to take his share and do not tear him to pieces as they undoubtedly would do were he to invade their sea domain. A gardener, approached on the subject of the land-lubber gull, said he suspects the shore-going seabird is a weakling who cannot hold his own in the eternal war that is waged upon the deep, and so takes the line of least resistance and lives on the grass among the worms and sandwiches, flying to his rocky home at sundown.

Humanity naturally turns to the left, and after centuries of "keep to your right" on the world's pavements people took up the natural

running as if they never OVER THE LEFT, left off. Watch passengers passing through the ticketclipping department of any passenger service. If there are two exits, one to the right and the other to the left, the official on the left clips three times as many as the man on the right. The division of labour is reasonable enough, for when there is an incoming stream the right becomes the left and vice versa. A scientist explains to M.A.T. that it is something to do with the convolutions of the brain, but he didn't say what. The human being who is lost keeps to the left like an obedient citizen on a city pavement and wanders round in a circle until he dies or is found.

Under the heading "Death of a Brilliant Cow," a bovine obituary occurs in many papers. The lady's ancestry is traced back to remote degrees of consanguinity, ANCESTRY. and her performances as a mother of calves who reached eminence in their profession are shown in detail. It occurs to one that we human beings are more modest in our written obituaries, but that this branch of art might be stimulated by persusal of cow literature. A citizen dies, and his passing is recorded without an™ real reference to his family tree. It would be interest big to trace the ancestry of our best-known people as far as history serves. You get intriguing illumination in cow obituaries such as "the late cow Milkmaid was the mother of the celebrated bull Skim Dick, on whom the famous Creampuff herd was built"; but in recording the death of Mr. Pink you are not nearly so indicative. It is a branch of art that might easily be developed, and in the tracing of ancestry We New Zealanders would ultimately be convinced that we are not a spontaneous breed, owing our qualities of blood, bone, hair and capacity to the places where the cows come from.

A DAY'S SPORT. I kill (he mimed) not to show bravery. Birds can't light back. They have no chance, you see. I shoot them as r find them ; not for need Of hungry children I am hound to feed; Nor yet for warmth. Such tiny feathered breasts Hardly suffice to shelter little nests. Nor yet in self-defence, nor quick alarm. What binl has ever-done me any harm? I like to shoot. No matter If the. killing Makes clear to everyone that I am willing To prove my strength on helplessness—to spend My shots, that happy chirps and songs may end. And harmless lives be blotted out forever— (There! Got one on the wing!) returning never. * • • * To strike a weaker man is cowardly But bagging birds 1s different, you' see! —A.D.

Bert Hinkler, the hard-faced Aussie who packed a toothbrush and a collar, hopped aboard his taxi of the clouds and flew across C tt„ U t_ __ „ the world, has had as SUMMIT OP FAME, much money thrust upon him as a prize fighter gets beiore he agrees to undergo a great adventure of half an hour. Now Bert has cot enough money to start a moth farm, he has attained als6 immense local celebrity. There's Hinkler face cream and Hinkler silk stockings, Hnikler pyjamas, and, above all, Hinkler hats. Australia is about to introduce trouser frocks or harem skirts for ladies, and the investigator of this sartorial diablerie has publicly threatened to call them the Hinkler skirt. But the Hinkler hat is the thing! It's the same old kind of hat, of course, but the first day a Sydney firm labelled them "Hinkler" it sold two hundred dozen at seven-and-sixpence each And, believe it or believe it not, the firm gave Bert one for nothing and charged two-and-three to profit and loss.

The secretary of the New Zealand Horticultural Trades Association (deep breath) has mentioned that we don't value our best men THV vviTifo and that when the w orld iHJi EXILES, .sings out for specialist , *ew Zealanders — away X?L g V are ! OSt *° us for *ver. Quaintest SlT S W C °T e ' 18 that Whcn fat corporations 5X wtth 1 G K, Ve T ent experts and lubricate life with double the salary the Government doesnt up and say, "This chap is worth his Yoif if finH ß K d ~"y nd i ra j ße him a few hundreds. lou 11 find New Zealanders, driven from their own country by the kick of poverty, directing every kind of affair from gold and diamond mines Indian Courts and Canadian forests or Palestine motor services to quackeries in Harley Street or bull farms in the Argentine But you needn't worry. Nobody e Ve?made anything who didn't make tracks. You couldn t, for instance, expect New Zealand to Tnihv K' \° atest nien (Rutherford and Wl f s) ' alth ° u ? h the latter is still very , , us ' aQ d all that the famous Dr. Till}ard knows about bugs will be available us and the world, .Ithoogh 've „„ lo„*e r '? him an underrate worker's salary. Mr! Gree'll «is perhaps not absolutely accurate when 111 regard to profound horticulturists, he savs knjw° ami " The point i,, ,ve do.W „eoio ist of .New Zealand birth who used to chag down four hundred a year for doincr s?de wh ° sold himself°outside tor six times the once Fv»n in ♦ c u lot .rt thi, New Ze*.lS"d q o.m,° of fiteSfv turning out' men persists. A Minister of tlip Crown very wisely said recently that he liked lethargic eye and puts up the price »! as." the A THOUGHT FOR TO-DAY