THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXII, Issue 16, 20 January 1931, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MAN ABOUT TOWN.)

A tourist complains that it is often impossible to obtain reliable information as to the condition of New Zealand roads. Those

who have tramped, ridBKOAD HIGHWAY, den or driven on the

highways will also agree that any two persons will vary in their estimate of distance. For instance, the wayfarer in Australia, if asked how. far it is to the next homestead, will nonchalantly throw his finger in the required direction and eay, 'Toiler the fence a bit till you come to the turning , , and there yous are!" frequently neglecting to say it is sixty or seventy miles to she bend. The estimates among travellers would vary from ten miles to a hundred, and inquirers might easily die of thirst on the way. There ie the old story: "How far is it to Muckakowie?" "'Bout six mile!" Seven mile/? later. Another wayfarer. "How far is it to Muckakowie?" "'Bout six miles!" A further eight miles. '"How far to Muckakowie?" "Oh, about six mile." "Thank heavens we are holding our own!" In South Africa if one asks a wayfarer how far it i«j from Piet's Spruit to Slinger's Vlei the wayfarer will reply, "Three hours," meaning that it will take a horse that time to do it. Nowadays old Whiskers, asked how far it is from the fiaid spruit to the said vlei, would remove his -huge pipe fram the undergrowth and say, "Ten minutes or quarter of.an hour; it all depends on the car."

In an effort to readjust the wobbling balance of world trade captains of industry are suggesting smaller production. A Poverty

Bay gheep farmer has THE ECONOMISTS. gone one better. He'de-

Clares that he will arrange that his. sheep shall show no natural increase next season. Sheep will be expected to be almost human. The sheepmen seem not to have found any real deterrent to grass. The persistence with which it has grown shows how exceedingly perverse the vegetaSle kingdom can be, refusing to be guided by commercial economists. It is feared that instead of being destroyed the immense quantities of grass seed that have lately been gathered will be sown, thus defeating the economists. It seems impossible to divorce the evil of manylambs from the evil of too much grass. There must be some kind of a bug that destroys grass. Early inquiry of the Cawthron Institute might relieve the anxiety of farmers who' fear that grass will continue to grow if some drastic destructive measureg are not taken.

Successive generations of comic artists and humorous writers have written or drawn a literature of the missing collar stud. The matutinal dresser has been THE TRAGEDY, shown on his hands and knees searching sedulously beneath the dressing table or the chest of diawerg for the stud without which no man can be respectable. It is an experience common to all unless one ie fortunate enough, to be a common person who goes to work in a collarless singlet. This, however, is the story of the man who found his stud' in the place he put • it, diving immediately in the top right-hand drawer for a collar. He didn't get a bite. He sank seriatim in every drawer with the same pathetic result. Subsequently when he had drawn a blank he appealed querulously to .his wife! "Mamie! Mamie! Where are my collars?" And the lady called out cheerily: "Oh, I gave them to Jasper for the unemployed!" So lie came to work in a cricket ehirt.

Even the most lugubrious go about admitting that the prevalent summer is one of the beet, the sort of summer that used to be served out when AuckFINE DAY ! land and you were much younger. Hot, balmy, spicy. Some people stand warmth, less ably than others and may be seen perspiring or running a damp finger round the inside of the collar to ease the strain, opening the waistcoat or seeking the shade of the orange drink grove. ' Shopkeepers, one notes, are sympathetic to perspirers. In some notable cases they have very kindly left their Christmas displays in the windows. Thus one may stand on the pavement and watch an odd Father Christmas or so with cotton-wool whiskers conducting an artificial snowstorm in the most approved old English way. One has often wondered why we pohutukawa 'buds imitate old oak winters in this clime. It is sentiment, the expression of which continues long after Christmas. If you care to search country papers, too, you may find that sentimental grocers still advertise Christmas hams and end-of-the-year gifts. Many of these advertisements, however, will disappear in June or July.

Dear M.A.T., —In relation to your pars, on "Hack, Chop, Burn" (which I appreciate very much) I would like to mention that the

cutting down of trees is HERB'S HERBAGE, not always an act of

vandalism or for material gain. Bear with me while. I relate the unfortunate experience of my old cobber Herb. When Herb arrived in New Zealand from the Old Country long years ago, ready to take on any work offering, being hefty and capable, he went to see about a scrub-cutting job and got it. His new boss gave him an idea of w]>at area of scrub had to be cleared and mentioned that he was called away on business and would be back in a few days. Herb get down to his job with a will and made a clean sweep. A few days later saw the job finished and Herb anxious to. lift his cheque. The boss duly turned up, greeted Herb, and smiled happily on seeing the good work done. A few minutes later, on getting nearer to the homestead, his smile changed to a howl of anguish, he hurled himself from his horse, and made a running kick at Herb, who went for his life on seeing the 'boss' murderous look, for Herb had included a young orchard in his scrub-cutting and made a clean sweep.— D.D. "...

» Mother is keen on slimming. She read fiomewhere that everything depends on diet and that three carrots a day keep obesity away. She has 'been eonTHE DIET. stant in her adherence to carrots, but last evening she • suddenly exclaimed: "Oh, dear me, dad, I've forgotten to eat my carrots," eent for them, and conscientiously consumed them. Then she said, "Dad, there's a box of. ehoeor late 3on the shelf in the kitchen. Get them for me, will you?"

Dear M.A.T., —In the course of my secretaTioe (which, by the way, I am told ie pure Mcx.) duties I received advice from a wellknown insurance company DEADLY. that it was "wi+hdrawing from the undertaking business in . . ," • 2Jow is this to be construed that the various fire offices have been secretly and silently building up a lucrative side line to the detriment of those top-hatted gente. who openly advertise "funerals furnished"? If so, then thie particular company has taken a very short-sighted policy to its own, as ibe township mentioned is ae inanimate as Queen Anne, and Nineveh and Tyre even now in comparison would be veritable Bollywood*; for sprigbtliness-—Famaer.