THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 293, 11 December 1929, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MAN ABOUT TOWN.) PEGASUS IN SPLINTS. My Muse is bumble-footed, and My Pegasus is curby-hocked, Although my rhyming dictionary With rhymes is adequately stocked. Last night I tried an ode, a hymn, A quatrain and a sonnet, And standing by the family firo I threw each effort on it! The ode was sadly girth-galled, too. The sonnet's wind was very broken, ' The quatrain had a foot too much. Nor any word was spoken. Hushed was the pale-faced family till The trembling infant, Sam, Whispered, "Oh, mother, why does dad Ejaculate, 'Oh, damn !' " My Muse has foot rot, broken knees, Girth galls and saddle sores, The very thought of Alfred Xoyes His fellow poet bores. My pale brow aches, I cannot write A rhyme. I cannot turn it — Well, here's the verse, it can't be worse, If you don't like it, burn it! A story illustrating some of the qualities which won for the late Dr. Cleary the esteem of soldiers. Begrimed and nerve-wrecked New Zealand troops from the JUST POTATOES, front-line trenches arrived at the cookhouse desperately hungry. "Have you got any potatoes, cook?" queried one Digger, as he slung his helmet down. "No," came the soft reply. "I managed to keep the blood off them. You'll find them very good all the same." A hearty laugh went round and a discreet comrade went forward to the questioner whispering, "Hey, Digger, don't you know who the new cook is? That's the padre, Bishop Cleary." There were no further requests for coloured potatoes and the hishop continued cheerily with his task — on the most important office to the soldier.

The late Sir John Findlay, K.C., may be regarded as one of New Zealand's leading intellectuals. Those who remember him in his brightest days will reaolPERSONALITY. lect his remarkable and often highly entertaining fluency, quaint, imaginative and full of humour. He frequently deputised for Mr. Seddon on the platform, or at least held the fort until the great man arrived. Mr.-Seddon had so much to do that he was almost invariably late at meetings. His political detractors used to say that Mr. Seddon was a master of effect and that lie would deliberately wai,t until an audience was absolutely pining for him before he entered. Lord Plunket used'facetiously to refer to the' Prime Minister as "the late Mr. Seddon." On a well-remembesed occasion Sir John Findlay prepared the way for the unpunctual leader by a speech of three-quarters of an hour. He traversed politics, history, science, literature. He told stories inimitably, but he was not Seddon. Just on nine o'clock the Premier was framed in the door. He halted dramatically so that all could see him and greet him, and stalked grandly up to the platform. The far more brilliant platform man was almost forgotten. The people roared "Dick!" They would have forgiven him if he had been two hours late.

A highly respected semi-millionaire who is addicted to grass, sheep, wool and other comfortable hobbies tells the tragic story of a fellow 6quatter of the THE Wairarapa. The squatter SQUATTER'S JOKE, drove into the nearest "town, left his car, and, walking gloomily up the street with an air of tlfe. most profound depression, ascended the stairs leading to his solicitor's chambers. The solicitor, noting his Intense gloom, said, "Hullo, old man, what on' earth is the matter?" The squatter replied darkly, "Lex, old fellow, I'm fed up. I can't stick it any more. Things are getting on my nerves and I'm going to end it all.". Mr. Lex, rather astounded, said, "Oh, for heaven's sake don't talk rot. You're nerves are frayed. Go out and have a drink or something and you'll be all right." "No!" said the farmer firmly, pulling a Mills bomb out of his pocket. "I'm going, and you will go with me!" The lawyer leapt for the door, flew into the street and called the brethren.- Perchance they might arrive before the intending destroyer threw the bomb. Several men stole furtively up the stairs. The farmer was calmly sitting in a chair smoking a cigarette and reading a newspaper. Smiling happily at the wan faces surrounding him. he dropped the bomb on the ground, while they" leapt. "It's a dud," ho grinned. He was an incorrigible practical joker. The Rev. D. Cross Bates, the well-known meteorologist, returning from Europe to New Zealand, has mentioned the- large . numbers of Alsatian dogs who lead LEADING blinded German soldiers THE BLIND, about the streets of Ber-

lin. Mr. Bates has a lifelong knowledge of dogs and was keenly interested many years ago in the introduction of Australian dingoes to the Wellington Zoo. It unfortunately happened that two of the dingoes (a dog and his fair lady) escaped and took to the Town Belt, where at the time sheep were running. Mr. Bates, who bad served as a chaplain in South Africa, and was therefore accustomed to firearms, hunted the belt for these dogs, it being clearly impossible to go up to wild dogs with bones and say, "Did urns den, pooh old Fido!" put a leash'round their necks, and bring them back to captivity. The result of Mi-. Bates', hunt is not remembered, but at least no sheep were killed on the Town Belt. Apropos Alsatians and blinded soldiers, quite a famous black-and-white artist once drew rather a cruel picture. A lady, obviously extremely short-sighted, is in the "room of an optician. "And when I can no longer see with these," she asks, "what shall I do?" "I will supply you with stronger lenses, madam," says the eye man. "And when those lenses are no longer powerful enough?" "Ah, then, madam, we recommend a dog on a string." "C.F.," who communicated an interesting item on Robert Raikes, the founder of Sunday schools, in a further note declares, that Raikes did not inaugurate SunRAGGED SCHOOLS, day schools to propagate any specific religious faith but to teach poor, ragged, neglected bovs to read and write. This, lie mentions, was the origin of the Ragged Schools that were abolished in 1870. It is of interest that a veritable ragged school, based on the abolished Enelieh pattern, existed in the poor quarter of Wellington up to twenty years ago. The association of ideas in the xery voung is intensely interesting to students who watch the gradual evolution from child to adult. A little fellow aged four THE TERRIER FOX. years was taken on Sunday to see, for the first tune, a strawberry patch. What interested him the most was naturally the scarecrows, or, as he called them, "Guy "Foxes." When 'the family got to their own home the little fellow's mother saw small birds in a mulberrv tree and "shooed" them. And the little fellow said: "Why don't you have a Terrier Fox to frighten the birdies away, mummy?"

THOUGHTS FOR TO-DAY. Silence is not always tact, and it is tact thabis golden, not silence.—Samuel Butler. • • • If you are to go on loving mankind you must take a rest from it sometimes.—C* E. Montague. That is the mistake one makes, that one thinks that other people ought to find one's own feelings and fancies and experiences as real as one finds them oneself.—A. C\ Benson.