THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 190, 13 August 1928, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MAN ABOUT TOWN.)

And when we have had a day of mourning for the sins of Auckland, let us have a day of rejoicing for the virtues of the communitv.

, _ . • Couldn't we whoop and A DAY OF JOY. procesh for the quiet, unemotional crowd, who, even if they do sometimes fail to leave their own homes on Sundays and forget to crv "I am not as other men,'' just happen alons with material help when indigent families want it? People who are a tower of strength in times of sickness and trouble are frequently unable to repeat the verbal formulae dear to those who may believe that words are a passport to post-mortem happiness. M.A.T. often thinks of blasphemous men who, he hopes, will go to heaven. Hard-doer miners, for instance, who are not careful of their words or their appetites, but who. when the black-damp is in the mine with their buried mates suckin** it in, give up everything to lend a helping hand and often die. You couldn't call firemen religious men as a body. But you might justlv have a day of rejoicing to celebrate their perpetual angelic heroism. Rough bushmen whose language might shock the saint will carry a smashed mate a score of miles over unthi'nkable country. Have a bit of a joy whoop for them! \ ery likely when the good and bad toe the final line they will be regarded as much of a muchness. M.A.T. fall in between one of the acknowledged saints and one of the naughty bad men who do the rescues, and to listen to what the Quartermaster has to sav.

The extra prevalence of itinerant vendors of trifles is possibly induced by unemployment, and the daily occurrence of doorstep travellers induces the second-hand BRISK BUSINESS, reflection that one-half of

the world doesn't know how the other half lives. The incidence of door-to-door merchants stirs memories of earlier days when men with a little knowledge uncommon to their fellows roamed the Australian bush and wrested a crust from its denizens. One remembers, for instance, a bewhiskered Pole who travelled the shearing sheds of the Murrumbidgee, his stock-in-trade being an old strap, a bit of mutton fat and some wood ashes—an excellent combination to keep a razor sharp, especially if the razor is "finished ' on a silk handkerchief. This gentleman charged one shilling per razor and often emerged at the end of the season with more good cash than a shearer possessed. Another merchant sat all day in the shade carving out pipe heads from bush trees, retailing the same for five shillings. His one implement was a pocket knife. Still another captain of industry with a solemn face like a hymn carried a handsaw and some homemade wooden dolls, their limbs hung on wire. He «ave entertainments by sitting on the handle of the saw and by the tittillation of the business end with a finger caused a doll held lightly by a string in the other hand to grotesquely dance on the blade. He reaped a rich harvest among enraptured clients in the sheds. Again, there used to be a Russian Finn, who, with a hammer, a round punch and some sovereigns, made gold rings for shearers at two pounds. He simply drove a punch through a sovereign and hammered the nold round it according to the size of the buyers finger. Still again there were a curious race of men in Queensland who plaited cabbagetree hats and sold the same for three jxmnds, a large price in pre-war days. To say nothing of the gentlemen who retailed gorgeous silk handkerchiefs at ten-and-six, chiefly torn up by stockmen to make lashes for stockwhips. Those were the days. I do not think: THE ANAGRAM. A large number of readers have sent in the correct solution of the anagram letter printed last Monday. It is as follows: My dear Henrietta,

I have enjoyed the visit with my old classmate, in spite of a little nostalgia. There is not much to do here but chatter over schooldays which, while entertaining, sometimes proves wearisome. You know John is a sort of bibliomaniac. To illustrate—to-day he drifted on mythology and gave me the romance of Andromeda, which was interesting. Briefly, this enchantress was the recognised beauty of that time. Once while contesting for supremacy with the daughter of Saturn and the Nereids, they, fearing defeat, had her abducted, chained to a promontory and left to her fate with Leviathan. This despicable malevolence was, however, to be frustrated, for, in spite of the unpropitious outlook and the disheartening surroundings of Andromeda already deliverance was at hand. The devoted Perseus, quickly learning of this predicament, hastened in search of, and soon found, his sweetheart, disposed of Leviathan, and, after severing the chains, carried Andromeda away to his castle. Matrimony completes the narrative. In spite of his idiosyncrasies, of all my old friends John is staunchest. He sends you salutations and says he hopes you will enjoy this epistolary effort, in which he has collaborated. I trust that I shall not receive retribution for this infliction when I return next Tuesday. Yours ever adoringly, EHPRIAM. As the citizen poured a liberal supply of "reduced cream" (it is "reduced" because there's more unreduced cream in New Zealand than in most countries) TIMES CHANGE? into his coffee he read in the "Star" that some children of some share milkers did not get milk "because there was hardly enough for the calves." He wondered and he pondered, and came to the conclusion that times do not change as readily as gears. A rather decent old grannie, at the time of the confidence being eighty years of ape, mentioned to M.A.T. that her father worked on the estate of one of the richest squires in Cornwall. He had everything a man could desire. Grannie's father lived in a cottage on the estate and paid one shilling per week for rent. He brought up his six children on the princely wage of ten shillings per week. "But," said the opulent M.A.T., selecting another Villar-y-Yillar from his gold cigar case, "you had plenty of free milk, cream, eggs, meat, and so forth, and so on, what?" But grannie assured M.A.T. that although the whole family lived a life of cow not a drain of milk or a scrap of butter, and very little cheese or meat, ever crossed the threshold of that cottage. "They wanted it all up at the Big House." she said, and almost dropped a curtsey to M.A.T. under the vague impression, perhaps, that M.A.T. was the squire and about to cut their daily cabbage down a heart or two.

CHAOTICS. Miss "M.H.T." gave enthusiast? a welcome task with her contribution. There were several correct solutions from ardent investigators : Mumsatyncherh Chrysanthemum. Following is the hardest yet, literally hard. Hard as <:lass, harder than the best tile" harder than a hacksaw, harder than flint, hard as a creditors heart, harder than it is for a camel to go through the eye of a needle. It was the hump that stuck the camel. Pray don't get it! Mnrftdiatasoue. A THOUGHT FOR TO-DAY. There was a lovable English clergyman who did not get to the table d'hote at all. His breeches had turned up missing and without any equivalent. He said he was not more particular than other people, but he had noticed that a clergyman at dinner without breeches was almost sure to excite remark.—Mark Twain.