THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXI, Issue 141, 17 June 1930, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MAN ABOUT TOWN.)

"It is all very -well," said he, "to pretend a superiority to the garrulous barber. I have noted with great interest the gradual rise of

the hairdresser I have I'LL , TELL the honour to sit under. THE WORLD. I am persuaded that

when he says to me, I 'What this country wants,' and expounds his theory, the country really does want what he prescribes. At one time hie solo performances on international questions made me nervous in contemplation of my own ignorance, but as I couldn't very well leap from the chair half-shaven and dash lathered into the street, or rise with my hair half-clipped, I grinned and bore it. Now I wouldn't miss my visits to him for worlds. He has put me wise to matters I wotted not of. At first I assumed the natural superiority of a customer who was about to award him, say, two shillings for work done. Now I am but a humble pupil at the school of a Master. - On the last occasion my cherished orator gave me the once-over, he handed the parlour to his first assistant and accompanied me to the pavement. At the kerb was an excellent Super-Seven with the engine running and a smart young fellow at the wheel. It was the orator's car. 'Jump in,' he said. Til run you home!' I gnashed my newshaven chin. I haven't got a Super-Seven."

Dear M.A.T., —One man's loss is so often another man's gain. At the races, for example.' Sometimes, however, the thing which changes owners brings no joy to MISSING FLORIN, its new possessor; if I find a set of artificial teeth it's safe betting that they will not fit and I'll have to throw them away. Gn the other hand, I invariably look in the passageways as I leave a theatre and on the floors of tram cars (where the foot-worn bolt heads shine like sixpences) for stray coins. One day last week, about two in the afternoon, I gave "the other fellow" a chance to score off me. As I hurried across Fort Street I had an uneasy feeling I had dropped something, but, turning and looking, I eaw nothing on the roadway. Close on five o'clock the same day I discovered I was two shillings short in my cash. With a doubtful ehrug I walked across the street. Somebody has been lucky, I thought. But there, with a gleam of welcome (or probably a cheeky grin) lay the errant coin. After that I find it difficult to believe the story of the Scotsman —don't read on if it will bore you —who told his son to leave a threepenny piece on the railway line before thp Flying Scotsman came by; it would be squeezed the size of sixpence. With a blast of its whistle the train comes round the bend. The little boy stands excitedly in hiding. Before it reaches him the driver stops the train, climbs down and pockets the threepence.— L.G.G.

Apropos the taniwha that has bitten Arapuni and which is crawling towards Horahora, mention of the monster recalls other fabulous animals, includBUNYIP. ing goomie, wimwams,

gadgets—and bunyips. The bunyip is the Australian blackfellow'e special terror. This is probably why Binjia will not stir out at night time, for the terror stalketh in the dark and campfires drive it away. As it is actually possible to frighten a blackfellow to death, the importance of the bunyip cannot be over-estimated. There is the undoubted case of the bunyips on'the edge of the Great Australian Desert. A bunch of blackfellows on the move saw for the first time in their sombre lives the tracks of camels. So terrified were they at first that they fled and could hardly be persuaded to* return. When the blacks, however, had become accustomed to the "bunyip" tracks, the lads of the village prepared a surprise for other bunches of dark nomads. / These unclothed comedians used to sit in the sand, poise themselves on their buttocks and hop along, almost perfectly imitating the tracks of camels. Apropos the ease with which a blackfellow is' frightened by anything he doesn't understand, one greasy abo. with more moral ascendancy than another will often' point the "death-bone" at an enemy. Without any more bother the victim will fade away and gradually die. Any dirty old bone will do as long as it has become "magic" by the incantations of the disreputable "old man" of the tribe. . •

A correspondent writes: There is fresh proof in our news this 'morning of the saying that in Ireland the inevitable never happens

and the unexpected alANOTHER ways occurs. Mr. Geog- • INJUSTICE, hegan, who has just re-

tained the Republican seat in County Longford (where, incidentally, Lord Longford speaks the Irish language) is a King's Counsel. How he can reconcile his King's Counsel patent with his Eepublican enthusiasm, I leave it to your readers to judge. AJI things seem to be possible in Ireland.

Dear M.A.T.,—Talking about the Avondale trams and Nurmi, the runner, the words 1 "only forty minutes" used in th,e paragraph in con-

nection with the tramTHIS HECTIC RUSH, way service were proper-

ly selected. Avondale residents are fortunate if their six-mile journey to the city is done in forty minutes, for the four-mile journey from the recent Remuera terminus at Upland Road takes thirty-two minutes, and that is as compared with the thirty-five minutes taken by the St. Helier's Bay busee to do the nine-mile run from the bay to the'city, an average of about 16 miles an hour, which surely cannot be called dangerous driving. Some years ago the time to be taken on a tramway section was increased from seven to eight minutes, an absurd allowance for seventeen out of the eighteen hours the cars are on the road each day. Therein lies a way by which the transport system might be made to pay. —Lochiel.

The melancholy accident to a little boy who stepped into a burning slack heap at Huntly induces a man Avho knows to tell

M.A.T. a little about such N HIDDEN FIRES, slack heaps. These Jieaps may keep on burning, and sometimes they remain so long that vegetation springs up in them. To those unaccustomed to them they may look to be comparatively solid. To those who are used to them the indication that'there is fire underneath is a small portion of white ask on the top. Anyone stepping on such a portion may disappear altogether.

Dear M.A.T., — You have, of course, told the story of the young lady who was walking smartly down Queen Street carrying her violin case when it burst open, BIT OP BAIT. disclosing a few collars and shirts for thu Chinese launderer, but have you ever seen a similar thing happen? One day I had the pleasure of seeing the following 'incident take place in a suburb of Auckland: I was passing a fish shop on the opposite side of the roarl when I noticed a smartly-dressed man come out and make off hurriedly. He had only gone a short distance when the suitcase burst open, scattering about a dozen ripe mullet on the footpath, much to everyone's amusement. The young man, with admirable sang froid, gathered the stray ones together and continued on his way to dispose of yesterday's overplus. I hope he.caught many fish.—R. WHO TOLD YOU THAT? _ Mrs. Malaprop: Yes, I lorst me favourite maiden uncle. He was killed in a drunken sprawl on $e outside skirts of Noo York. j