THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 138, 13 June 1929, Page 8

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MAN ABOUT TOWN.)

WHO'S WHO IN HISTORY.

A riotous young blood was Hal, the heir of Henry Four. A rowdy blade, a tosspot, too; this much (or even more). For instance, when a pal of his was gaoled, he drew his sword And tried to kill his Lordship on the Bench; and so my lord Sent Hal himself to gaol as well and thus upheld the Bench. Hal couldn't boat the British law and so he fought the French. They say that when Prince Hal was called to wear 'the English Crown He gave up all these hobbies, but did not settle down. One darksome day he caught a knight (a leading local Lollard) Denouncing Sir John Oldcastle—he had the poor chap' collared. John, it appears, by differing from Henry Five, had earned The kingly scorn, and so, of course, that night that knight was burned. Later the King was bored to tears—too few were being slain, So thirty thousand troops he took from England to the Seine. Then, as you know, he struck a blow at Agincourt and Crecy, With good yew bow, with blow for blow; results were red and messy ; With arrows, pointed sticks, with stones, with swords and pikes, they say, It was a most successful scrap—twelve thousand slain that day. Nine years he reigned, nine gory years his glory to enhance, Like myriad other soldiers since, he died in La Belle France.

Wonderful things, trade posters Business people get great artists to make pictures illustrating ham or pork and beans or pills that are far ARTISTS AND TRADE, better worth hanging in the Royal Academy than many pictures already there. An artist man the other day laughingly referred to the kiwi poster advertising New Zealand honey, mentioning that no kiwi of his acquaintance ever made honey. Carrying the idea further, no balloon ever made baking powder. For magnificence of effort not in any way allied to the article advertised, our American cousins have us beaten by seven furlongs in a mile. There are most beautiful illustrated advertisements in American publications. You will see an exquisite story picture, for instance, with charming people and lovely scenery, with perhaps a heart-searching bit of reading that makes you get a hot lump in the throat and a tear in your eye. You do not know what it is all about until you find in small type at the very end that those thousands of dollars' worth of art are published, to make you buy a tencent stick of breath scent for parties. American captains of industry think nothing of hiring the best artists at a small fortune per picture to draw a Royal Academy picture ending with a peal of poetry about their Sunburn Tomatoes, or their Peptonised Peas. Some day we may do the same here.

Why be peeved that Sidney Webb, the new Panjandrum of the Dominions (and Colonies) in the Mac Donald Cabinet knows nothing about the Dominions (or coloWHY WORRY? nies) and is learning all

about them by sitting every day in the Dominions Office in London? Barring a couple of dozen blase persons who leave school and drift into rule because their daddies did before them, no new Ministers anywhere know anything about the job they arc put down for. Don't blame them! How can they know? You see, they are going to make Mr. Webb competent to rule the London department of the Dominions by making him a lord. Up to the time that Mr. Amery took his Empire tour few Secretaries of State for the Dominions even pretended to know anything whatever about the Dominions. The personages who do appear to know a little about us and our ideals are the Princes of the blood. You can't very well make the Prince of Wales a Cabinet Minister, can you? If we are peeved with Webb for knowing nothing about us, Ave should be peeved with every politician and every Minister in every Parliament in every British State on earth. For to-day a man is an obscure person running a farm, or a shop, or a warehouse and to-morrow by the exigencies of politics he is a personage running a great Department. His opinion on turnips may yesterday have been received with scorn by his fellow turnipeers, but his opinion to-morrow on the Eastern Problem touching a thousand million people is of the utmost value. Why worry? Lord Webb will have' at his beck and call crafty old clerks who have been used to running Empires for years. And in lesser affairs the turnipeers of yesterday have private secretaries. We shall blunder through.

It is a fearful thought that not a single line of any newspaper from the title on the front page to the imprint on the last page escapes notice and that A NEW REFORM, every word in every paper is possibly imperishable. This being granted, the following advertisement may oe carefully stowed away by collectors and brought again to the light of day when this generation and others succeeding it are smiling at the daisy roots, gone where newspapers come not and the mortgagee is at rest: ''Bed sitting room, furn., sleep out, kitchenette, all coins." Other reforms are bound to follow, such as the letting of business premises on the stipulation that the lessee pays the rent and promises not to occupy them; the purchase of dairy cows without removal; the borrowing of money on the understanding that no interest shall be charged. It is the new note of magnanimity. One sees the potential tenant gazing rapturously at the bed sitting room, paying a year's rent in advance and sleeping in the Domain.

The good old army, heaven bless it, has had a brain-wave, and privates, buglers and others will be pleased to hear that officers arc

to have numbers as well ARMY REFORM, as the rank and file. Thus

an officer might receive an official communication addressed thus: "Xo 989/990, Field-Marshal Lord Bluedon Bloodj V.C., Battle Castle, Huntingdon," associating him definitely with Thomas Atkins. The War Offico is numbering officers in order that they may be identified in times of emergency. You see, in time of war an officer might not recognise his own name, might even be goin<* about thinking himself to be Jones when," in fact, he was really Brown, but he could not possibly forget that his number was 987/88. It i's earnestly hoped that the names of officers will bo included when the sergeant-major calls the roll.

Sydney some time ago bought itself a peal of bells. It modestly boasts (and the bellmakers agree) that it is the best peal of bells to date - All Australians BELLS. are more or less poets, and so, of course, they had to have a verse cast on the bells. For som° inscrutable reason, according to an Aucklander who has returned from the Ma State, the verse is in Latin! Funny how people stick to medieval ideas. In the Middle Latin was used by the highbrows merely 'to show how superior they were to the 'lower classes : Still, it's a smaller matter than the tone of the bells heard publicly. A musician with a keen ear is sadly wanted to subedit Auckhml bells. Years ago the ferry chimes 2 ot out of tune and an expert came from Home to make them musical. They want an expert ao-aii-' Whileile is at it he could lubricate the svivn" too. " '

A THOUGHT FOR TO-DAY. Yet when it is pouring in torrents. Till part of the.ceiling succumbs. The plumber will leave me the currents While treating himself to the pltims. —GaTstrang Strakes.