THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 198, 22 August 1928, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MAN ABOUT TOWN.)

Dear M.A.T., —Ever hear the one about my brother ? He shot himself down at Moe, in Vic. Had a rifle and took a bosker aim at a

dingo; fired. As the bullet DEATH OF GINGE. struck the dingo in the

left leg he (the dingo) slewed round, and the bullet came straight back and got poor old Ginge fair between the lamps. We planted him under a heap of ashes (they used to burn the native bush there same as in New Zealand), but ever since then I blame myself for Ginge's death, as it was my turn to have the shot. That is why I like the ditty you call "If," published last night. Xo more now.—Hoping you will hear from me again before the sheds on the Barcoo cut out, yours to a burnt Johnny cake, Bluey.

Dear M.A.T., —Last week you referred (o the loads of sightseers who will come to Birkenhead to see the kauris and other native

trees. They will need to HACK, CHOP, hurry, for soon even BURN, kauris will be a thing oi

the past. One resident had nursed a fine orphan nikau for many years, but some weeks ago only the stump remained. Thirteen years ago the writer bought a dwelling with usual Birkenhead bush gully attached, same being fenced with barbed wire and netting. Many young trees since planted are doing well, some are over twenty feet high. Some weeks ago a new neighbour arrived and sighted the "nice bit o' firewood," and in «■ afternoon nine large trees, probably over fifty years old, were laid low. Three years ago the only totara in that gully went up somebody's chimney. One resident has twenty acres of line bush, and has spent hundreds of pounds on improvements, but the vandals take regular toll.—Sufferer.

A popular society woman of Sydney, charmingly interested in limbless soldiers, has laid it down that women should not wholly neglect husbands for THE HEROINES, bridge. She believes,

bless her, that a woman should be in her home in time to see that the husband chap has a satisfying meal. Here is what she said: "It is a woman's duty, and 1 for one make a point of finishing bridge at five p.m. sharp, although some of my friends may think that I am disagreeable, to get home in time to greet my husband." A modern heroine willing to sacrifice herself on the altar of domesticity! She apparently recognises that even a man with limbs should be compensated for sitting in an office all day dragging down the wherewithal for her to be a society woman on. Even at the risk of offending her friends (who leave the welcome and the chop to Mary Ann) she makes a point of that husband. He is part of the inevitable sacrifice of modern life. He'd love to see that bit in print to prove to him that ladies can be tolerant. And then M.A.T. has a little look at a woman who hasn't any bridge or limbless soldiers to sacrifice herself for. Makes a point of rising at six, makes a point of cooking breakfast for eight. Makes a point of cutting five lunches. Makes a point of working all day, with domestic duties necessary with a family through the long vocal watches of the night. Never leaves off bridge to welcome her husband because she can't play bridge. Very commonplace female—very! Dear M.A.T., —As a keen discriminator with more than the average blessings as a philosopher you will have noticed that Mr. T. Wilford (otherwise "Our THE FRYING-PAN Tom"), has succeeded in CURSE! adding lustre to his name as a politician and divorce | law specialist by coining a description for the modern woman burdened with domestic duties. When I read his dramatic allusion to "FryingPan" wives it sounded even more cryptic and delectable than Charles Lamb's "Dissertation on Roast Pig." Both subjects, however, have their terrors for mere man, who, unfortunately, is largely oblivious to the digestive dangers that linger in fatty foods. Mr. Wilford has thrown the searchlight of warning upon a common culinary failing. Indeed, for many years past scientific dieticians have been urging the complete abolition of the frying pan, which, metaphorically speaking, is putting many men into the fire! Those who do suffer from overdoses of fried edibles will rejoice to have this special protective recipe—just take a little vinegar with all such food. This advice is free.—Hard-boiled.

It has been sadly said that since Su James Carroll died New Zealand has no natural born orators. It is not exactly true, for several Maori gentleBORN ORATORS, men still carry the ban-

ner. You do not go to Parliament for oratory, for in that place the dreary drip of dissertation is usually confined to putting the other fellow's pot on in exceedingly plain and unadorned language. The late George Fisher, who often rose to heights of oratory, was asked for a definition of a born orator. And old George, clearing his massive throat, said: "Well, if I got up and remarked, 'Yah! you're the sort of man who teaches your grandmother to suck eggs!' that wouldn't be oratory, but if I was to say, 1 have not the slightest hesitation in saying with all the solemn asseveration of which I am capable that the hon. gentleman conceives himself competent to instruct, teach and impart to his maternal grandparent the art, mystery or science of extracting by labial application the nutriment, sustenance and food substances from the ova of the female domestic fowl' that would be oratory!" '

A touring educational eminent has told us that a great rich Dominion like this has no right to send its children to be taught by half-educated people. Once SCHOOLMASTERS upon a time there was a ABROAD. man named Seddon. He

was the son of a village schoolmaster. He was not a university man, hut he taught in the great university of the world. There was an occasion when "Dick" spoke to a great audience, held them in the hollow of his hand, played on them like a harpist on his strings, and sent them away better educated in the things that mattered. As the audience left a gentleman said to Mr! Tibbs, the beloved master of the Auckland Grammar School, "My word, if Mr. Seddon had only had a university education!" "If he had," said Mr. .Tibbs quietly, "he would most probably have never been heard of." Captain Cook taught in the same university of the world, even if he didn't teach a primary school, and there happen to have been very manv teachers of the youth of New Zealand (notour leading men) who had never forgotten the real things by too sedulous swatting of the learning of other men. It occurs to one that if wandering schoolmasters were asked to set a standard the country might be strewed with the Order of the Sack. In life's broad field of battle the rac: is not always to the M.A., and, even though we reverence the memorist who has achieved alphabets, there is still a good deal of use for the man who is capable of self-expression and creation. From these even university men may sometimes learn a little if they are teachable.

CHAOTICS. '•'Aussie's" contribution pans out thus: Linrentinatoa International. "Bluey" unrolls his "Matilda" and gives us: Raiailitconv.