THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 263, 6 November 1929, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MAN ABOUT TOWN.)

SUMMER WEAR. While every young flapper looks happy and dapper In raiment delightfully ill season. The average man has to languish to plan I In garments sans comfort, suns reason. A collar and tie, though heaven knows wiiy, Is considered essential apparel. And as for the rest, he is smoothed out and pressed Till ho looks like a stick or a barrel. His trousers are pipes of various types. And he wears (hem for pleasure or toil. He totters to work in stiff collars that Irk And melt when lie comes to the boil. He*s in browns and in greys on the hottest ot ciavs.i While Eve's in a frock light, ami airy. f They're the envy of Adam, who wishes he had em— But has he? And would ha? And dare he? —A.xl*

Here comes a skilled and chatty boast from Honolulu declaring that in Hawaii there are twelve thousand toes engaged in football. Barefootball is immensely TOE-POGRAPHY. popular with the owners of the toes and the publie. A barefootballer has been known to kick a ball for sixty yards or more. The Hawaiians haven't not it on their own. Hundreds of our Maori brethren are equally skilled with the unarmed foot. The white man, his toes trammelled from infancy with boots, should he discard them and go into the field, might find it exceedingly painful to put in a one-hundred-pound kick with a bare great-toe. The untrammelled ex-savage, for his part, when he kicks with the bare foot instinctively turns his great-too down and boosts the leather with the second joint. Pedipulative plasticity is seen as far as the white race is concerned only in infants, although adults discarding boots may regain the wonderful power of the untrammelled foot. It will be remembered that when the war was on certain Pacific islanders came to Auckland and. were trained as soldiers. These most unhappy people had up to that time never worn boots, and they endured great agony in trying to get used to the regulation "Mas'seys." Unbooted, any of them could kicklike a horse. Booted, the'y were puerile footlers. And, incidentally, they had to be taught to eat the white man's food. It was harder to them and more deadly to eat our food than to kick one of our footballs with an ammunition boot.

Dear M.A.T., —Here is a true story in defence of Aberdeen. Of course, so many stories are current of the parsimony of meanminded Aberdonians that ALL there is more than a susMEN ARE LIARS, picion that such tales are invented by the folk of the Granite City themselves just to keep their toon in the public eye. But this story is a one-hundred-per-cent New Zealand one. Once upon a time —about forty years ago—there was a little backbloek village where religious strife was not known and-all the population patronised the two denominations that used the village church. Now tho village organist went away for a holiday, and, wishing to hoax the friends at home, he telegraphed the fictitious information that he had won the mile race at a big athletic gathering. All the village was assembled to greet the supposed conquering hero when he came home, and he was feasted and feted as if he was the real i champion. (This was in the days before ' plentiful newspapers told the people all the news all the time.) At last the impostor confessed his guilt. He had only meant to play a little practical joke on his friends, and when he saw all the village assembled to do him undeserved honour he was too kind-hearted to spoil the festivities by admitting then and there his sinister lie. This was too much for the unco guid of tjhe village. Churchgoers were mustered and the, penitent organist placed on trial. Excommunication or burning at the stake seemed the only fitting punishment for such a follower ,in the footsteps of Ananias. Till up spoke the man frae Aberdeen: "He tellt a lee, did he? Weel,if ye commence hurlin' a'l th' leears oot o' th' kirk ye'll ha'e nane left tae preach tae." In other words, lie that is without sin let him cast the first stone. The logic of the man frae Aberdeen was irresistible. There was no more stone throwing. The organist was reinstated, and the kirk prospered.—A.J.S.

A little story of an Albertland pig used to be told by the late Mr. George Nicholson. The little pig lived in the early 'sixties. He had no father, no mother PORK CRACKLING, arid no brothers and sisters. He was an orphan. A Maori lady pitied the poor little fellow, all of whoso relatives had become pork. She brought him up as a pet. The pig increased in stature and cunning day by day. One day an Albertland lady stood on the landing to welcome her husband, who had come from Auckland. She was so excited she dropped her handbag. It contained all her jewellery. The pig had never tasted jewellery before, but he ate the bag and tried the contents. In the bush the lady's husband found a half-eaten watch and some bent trinkets. The pig must have swallowed the brooches, earrings and a miniaturo of mother. The settlers had a store on the landing. Supplies used to be put there and the settlers fetched them. Mr. Elliott M'ent one day to fetch the stores. The pi.-j had found the stores. Among the stores was a very large quantity of soda carbonate and acid (for cooking purposes). It was enough for several months' supply for the whole community. The pet pig had eaten it. Shortly afterwards a terrific explosion was heard from the tea-tree. The pig, oh, where was he ? Ask of the winds that far away with fragments strewed the lea.

What a shame that a spark from a bonfire fell into the fireworks box at Hamilton and disappointed a great many young people of their pyrotechnic display! FIREWORKS. A similar intense incident is reported by a gentleman who remembers the Kamo display of several years ago. The deponent forgets the occasion for the display, but thinks the Town Board had found a new soda water sprint, or something of the kind. The Town Board purchased an immense assortment of fireworks, harnessed up the municipal horse and dragged them to the point of display, accompanied by the citizens and the members of the Town Board, elderly men of a whiskered tendency. The chairman of the Town Board conceived the plan of selecting the largest rocket to personally start the festivities. He lit the rocket, and it soared into the heavens, trailing its gorgeous tail amidst the enraptured "Ohs!" of the people. But it fell as truly as it ascended. Straight back into the fireworks cart. The startled municipal horse bolted amidst an unexampled pyrotechnic display. Grave, and reverend Town Board members sprinted for ' home tearing Catherine wheels, jack-jumpers and crackers from their beards! Children screamed and women fainted. The whole display occupied thirty seconds. It is still remembered after thirty years. And as the deponent said, "It was the best display of fireworks I ever saw."

The artistic infant was busily engaged with pencil and paper. His fond parents hope that he may attain eminence in the world which Einstein adorns and THE CHILD MIND, to which Sir William Orpen belongs. And so mother said: "What are you drawing, Jack?" "I'm drawing God," replied Jack. "But, my dear boy," continued mother, "you can't do that; no one knows how God looks." "But they will i know when I've drawn .Him," said the budding Gustavo Dore. A THOUGHT FOR TO-DAY. If there's anything good in a man an ocean voyage will bring it Dewar*