"THAT LYING JADE."

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 266, 9 November 1928, Page 9

"THAT LYING JADE."

SWEEP THAT WASN'T WON.

THEOBJSTICAIi THOUSANDS.

A NORTH SHORE CANARD,

"Give a falsehood ten minutes' start, and youll never catch it." Never Were truer words spoken. Dame Rumour (not altogether unknown in Auckland), has accomplished one or two noteworthy performances, and her latest effort is one which will be remembered, for some time on both banks of the shining Waitemata.

At a reasonable estimate, half the population of Auckland and the marine suburbs must have heard that a resident of Narrow Neck had "clicked" for the big prize in Tattersall's sweep.. The booty was variously estimated, (and, every time, on the best possible authority), at £20,000, half that sum, and sums dwindling down to a modest "fiver," but there was never the slightest doubt that the prize had been won; that a chance ticket had drawn Statesman, winner of the Melbourne Cup; and that the cheque was on its way. The quaintest feature of this amazing canard was that it was believed by the most dependable, and serious-minded men.

Fortified by the knowledge that the ticket had been seen and handled by such reliable informants, a "Star" reporter sallied forth on the delectable task of collecting a real human-interest story. Everybody had heard about it, but, curiously enough, nobody knew who the lucky man was, and many hours elapsed before the persevering purveyor of news succeeded in running his quarry to earth. The final clue was forthcoming this morning, and he took boat and bus to Narrow Neck, firmly convinced that the story was waiting for him and only needed writing. The gateway of a quiet suburban garden yielded to his touch, and he knocked at the door of one who had apparently found the secret of the "golden touch." To make the fairy story complete he should have been greeted by a King Midas with smiling countenance and blushing apologies for fortune's favours, but instead of that there sallied forth a very simple and very worried citizen whose first remark was: "I know what you've come about. Don't be silly." Less than a minute's conversation made it clear that the whole story was a fabrication, that he had not even drawn a runner in the big Australian race, and that the thousands were as theoretical as ever.

The origin of this fantastic rumour is as amusing as it is simple. A few days ago the citizen, who to-day unburdened his woes to the pressman, was imbibing a modest quantum of fermented liquor in a Auckland hotel when he told to a friend that he had had a small bet on Statesman in the Melbourne Cup, and also that l;e had taken a 5/6 ticket in an Australian sweepstake which bears a famous name. His friend gathered the mistaken impression that the ticket was the lucky one which had drawn Statesman, and so the snowball rumour began its career, growing bigger with every turn it took to the highways and byways of Auckland and Devonport.

Which all goes to show that it's wise to believe nothing you hear and only half you see. There should be a moral in all this.