THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 245, 16 October 1929, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MAN ABOUT TOWN.) NOCTURNE. Little Sheila Ward, aged eleven years, went to see a movie. She wrote the following about it: The night was dark and stormy, The sun was shining bright, The hero's lips were tightly sealed, He cried with all his might. "O kill, my friend, but spare my life!" The villain shot him dead; A cay young girl slipped down the path, Grey hairs on her bald head. She recognised the dying man, "Oh, who is this?" 6aid she. The headless corpse raised up his head And said, "My word, it's me!" "Himi" revives a story of the 'sixties: E., a smart young reporter for a country paper, having good ground for suspecting that S., tho representative of a THE SCOOP. city journal, pirated his copy, determined to trap the latter. It was about 1886. Although the King country had been opened the natives were aloof and disaffected. Overtures were being made with a view to the removal of their grievances. Nov/ was an opportune time for E. to operate. In the columns of the country paper appeared a circumstantial account of the arrival of two Wanganui chiefs, Hone Hulta and Wiremu Paraoa. These chiefs were possessed of considerable mana and were strong friends of the Xative Minister, the Hon. John Bryce, and their mission was a semi-official one to confer with the Ngati-Maniapoto people with a view to the removal of the misunderstanding which existed between the two races, etc. This important news item was telegraphed to the Auckland daily, who swallowed the bait, and it appeared in due course. As may well be imagined, S., to say nothing of the daily, was subjected to much chaff respecting the mythical Hone Huka (John Sugar) and Wiremu Paraoa (William Flour). Horrifying intelligence disseminated per photograph and per paragraph is to the effect that ladies' dresses will soon practically sweep the instep. Terrifying picTALE OF HORROR, tures of subdued crinolines appear. M.A.T. reads in London papers of indubitable respectability that curves are now permitted and that only her wee lovely toes may be seen in the ghastly future. And "then mother got this letter from a daughter a railway journey from home: "Dear Mother, —The summer comes with flower and bee; oil, send my summer frocks to me! You'll find them hanging in the press. At present I have really not a dress that isn't far too hot. Tell dad to wrap them up for me and post them pronto, yours Mary." Mother passed on the intelligence to father. Father, shockingly old-fashioned, asked how many dresses there were. "Five," said mother. "Heavens, it wiil be a parcelas big as. a bungalow!" he said, and sorted out a piece of brown paper that had been round a roll of linoleum, and part of a clothes line. Mother brought the dresses (all five of them) and threw them on the table. "What's the dusters for?" he asked. "They're tho dresses," said mother. "Here's the flowered georgette, and here's the crepe de chine and there's the " "All right!" said father. Father rolled them up tightly. The five dresses were scrunched into a parcel about as large as a pound packet of butter. The total weight of these five ravishing garments was fifteen and one-half ounces. The old-fasliioned bird dug from a chest a female dress dating from the naughty 'nineties. This one garment weighed nine pounds eight ounces. Heaven forbid that the 'nineties should return!

An Auckland globe trotter, speaking of hot air in Parliament, mentions that the sale of hot or cold air is now common in France. Immense numbers of PariHOT AIR. i sians live in apartments. Each series of apartments (says the Auckland investigator) has on the outside wall a plaque mentioning that on each floor may be obtained gas, electricity, running water, hot air and cold air. The hot and cold air device is recommended for any bachelor flats that may he'reafter be permitted in Auckland. The cold air, which may be obtained by dropping a coin in a slot, is for diminishing the'heat during summer weather; the warm air is to reduce the frigidity of winter. The idea has apparently not arrived in London yet, although New York has it. Dear M.A.T., —An aged farmer who lives near Auckland is against the Summer Time Bill and during the week-end vented his feelings against Mr. Sidey FATHER'S TIME, and politicians generally because the clock was to be advanced half an hour. "Here we are, mother," he said, "working long hours trying to make a living, and then this beggaring Government makes us work longer hours by putting on the clock. I don't know what the world is coming to. They'll be asking us to get up at midnight next and keep going till it is dark. They are making us work half an hour longer to produce so much more to make up for the new taxes we will have to pay." His eldest son had been listening to his father's summing up of the situation and he interposed to observe: "That's not right, father." "Not right! What do you mean?" "Well, father, our clock is an hour fast all the busy season, and if we put it right by Sidey's time we will be working half an hour less oevery day." "Put the clock back!" almost shrieked the old man. "Don't you let me catch you putting that clock back. We would never get through with our work if we did not keep our time a good hour ahead of the ordinary time. Just you leave it alone and don't pay any heed to Sidey's tipie." —A.S. There is food for thought in the cabled news that Mr. J. H. Scullin's employees at Australia House in London don't know him. Nevah heard of him. OBIT. Newspapers nevah heard of him. Dominions nevah heard of him. Nobody knows the man who will virtually rule a continent. Not enough stuff about the Prime Minister of the Commonwealth in London to write a paragraph about. Apparently Australia thought so little of Jimmy Scullin that they didn't give England material to furnish him with an obituary, showing gross lack of enterprise. It was not always thus with Australian papers. Some years ago a new newspaper was begun in a Commonwealth city. As it was necessary to employ largo staffs months before the paper astonished the world, the band of bright young writers had, of course, to be given something to do. One of the sprightliest jobs was to set young ink sleuths on the track of aged citizens likely to bo reaped 'by Father Time within a measurable period. Long before the newspaper burst upon a delighted world the obituary pigeon holes were crammed with good meaty funeral pars about men many of whom are still living. One often feels that the exquisite thoughts intended for post-mortem assimilation about the living would be of immense interest to the subjects of them.

THE CHILD MIND. An excellent New Zealand edible has on its container a picture showing St. George a cheval giving the dragon the coup de grace with his good old lance. The picture was of interest to little Joan, who is very fond of the product. "Munnny," she said, as mother gave her a sandwich, "is this dragon meat?" THOUGHTS FOR TO-DAY. How is it possible to expect that mankind will take advice when they will not so much as tako warning?:—Swift. • ♦ * If a man know not life which he hath seen, how shall he know death which he hath not seen?— Samuel Butler.