THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 142, 18 June 1929, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MAN ABOUT TOWN.)

WHO'S WHO IN HISTORY. Last evening while in pensive mood I took a simple pin. I closed niv eyes, opened the book, And stuck the point therein. Thus, thus I read, "A tortuous mind In lving and deceit, A woman "with a will of iron That would not brook defeat." I read how very great she was, Iu statecraft most tenacious, How great her versatility, How very contumacious. Vain, powerful, learned and amorous, Coquettish, diplomatic, She hoodwinked every foreign king In manner most erratic. One thing is to her credit, though, One thing she did abhor, As costing too much cash perhaps, She didn't care for War. She revelled much in crooked ways, In "puckish freaks" excelling. Mendacious, cynical, unjust, All opposition quelling. Still, you will glean that in this reign Great Britain greater grew. No reign is fuller of romance (At least, there are but few). Most noted of all British Queens, Through life and after death, Was "Good Queen Bess" of lasting fame, The great Elizabeth. The presence in Auckland of real and alleged cat burglars has led some people to assume that this romantic form of enterprise is new to New Zealand. THE CLIMBERS. Not so. Nearly a, score years ago an ardent pipe climber operated with great skill and success •in the south, usually poising himself 011 steep roofs while he broke skylights and lowered himself into warehouses and similar repositories of wealth. This youth was catholic in his taste, for, apart from removing any kind of jewellery, he was a safe blower of genius, and one night he removed a very large quantity of bank notes of many denominations. It must have hurt this young man's pride to discover that they had been cancelled by having a large circular hole punched in each. He conceived the plan of cutting up some notes to patch others, and these notes were passed among inexpert people until banks handling them spotted the fraud. The young gentleman got tired of patching notes and lie heaved a bag containing the residue, together with his favourite revolver, into the Manawatu River. The authorities found the bag—and the man. The one remarkable feature of the earthquake (as far as Auckland is concerned) was the exceeding calmness with which people took the news. A Spanish footTAIHOA. ball match in Bilboa would have caused much more excitement. The point is, of course, that it was -not our earthquake, but the other fellow's. Still, it gave numerous people a chance to mention earthquakes they had felt. 0110 lady, referring to the swing o£ electric light fittings and the uncanny movement of the kitchen door, also mentioned a former severe earthquake in which all the chimneys in the vicinity were turned round on their bases. Her aged mother at the moment of the shock was sitting in front of a mirror doing her hair. The daughter rushed in. The old lady wont on twisting her locks. "Mother, mother! There's an earthquake!" "Oh, is there, my dear?" said mother, and carefully stuck in another hairpin. A local man, one time eminent in the football world, during a former smart Wellington 'quake, was standing together with two visiting Auckland footballers in his office. The '"quake came and shook ink bottles, dust and books off the shelves. "There you are! There you are!" shouted the Wellingtonian with great pride. "That's one of our Wellington earthquakes!" The first fog of the season is always eagerly enjoyed by a new branch of a race that used to moon about the world in crude vessels with the crudest FOGGY MORNING, tools and take what was coming to them. The transpontine suburbanite, unused to adventure in a singularly humdrum existence, feels, as he at last sees his ferry boat suddenly looming out of the murk like a goblin craft, that here is something different. Thus, once aboard, he is a changed man. Usually he sits and with the aid of a newspaper adjusts the politics of the world, advises Bamsay Mac Donald what to do, with a sideline to guide Sir Joseph. But on a foggy morning there is an outside chance of a collision, a gallant rescue, something new and strange; and folk who usually sit down and bask behind their overcoat collars spring up regardless of draughts and actually hang on to the ship's rails, their eyes peeled for collisions. Even the unexpected presence of a strange boat nosing into a wharf attracted by the banging of an old circular saw with a hammer is an event. The foggy-looking folk on the strange craft wave invisible hands and shout hoarsely while there are responsive roars from the shore. In its tiny way it is an example of what might happen should the humdrum life of the citizen be disturbed by war. It would take just five minutes to transform him from a law-abiding citizen, anxious to placate everybody, to a primitive savage, looking with a gun, for the chap who dropped that bomb. The instant you award an average citizen a place on a local body his whole life changes. He may have been supremely careless of his privileges before he beTIIE COLLISION, came a public character. He may even have been neglectful to exercise his vote at a loan poll. When he bccomes, we will say, a councillor, every stick and stone in the district is his ewe lamb. He regards with affection that pile of water pipes, this bridge, these buses, those steam rollers. To illustrate this admirable trait: A councillor had arrived in a city from his suburban eyrie and went to his work. Later in the morning a friend who had left the suburban eyrie by a succeeding bus said to him, "Just after you went in this morningtwo motor cars collided 011 the Waikai Bridge.' 3 "Good heavens!" said the councillor, turningpale. "Was the bridge damaged?" Dear M.A.T., —I was 011 holiday on the plains of Matamata quite recently and learned quite a few points about dairy farming; I also learned the difference LIGHT LUNCH, between light luncheons of city and town. Before my host and I set out for a certain clearing sale I asked what about luncheon. "Oh, we'll get a bite to eat," he said. He showed me the paper, and it said plain enough "Light luncheon provided." Well, we didn't buy any cows, but w T e had light luncheon all right. I found out next day that this is what the farmer who held the sale provided for the attendance: Twenty-six loaves, eighteen dozen buns, twenty pounds of corned beef, a ham, twenty-five pounds of butter, half a cheese, twelve pounds of cake, six gallons of milk, seven boxes of sandwiches, two tins biscuits and (what American farmers are missing) fifteen gallons of beer and six bottles of whisky. Needless to state, it was a good sale. —01' Waverley. THOUGHTS FOR TO-DAY. New arts shall bloom of loftier mould, And mightier music thrill the skies, And every life shall be a song, When all earth is paradise. —John A. Symonds. We build our lives where'er we dwell On those who love and know us well. —Edgar Guest. »- • • I never knew Thee, Lord, until My garden brought us face to face. —Molly Haley.