THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXII, Issue 70, 24 March 1931, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MAIT ABOUT TOWN.) THE UNHAPPY FAMILY. The death Iβ announced of a whole family, but only in rhyme: Billy rode a mobike, turned to wave his hand, Now he wields a spanner in a far, far better land. Milly was a fag fiend, smoked all night in bed, Now she never smokes on earth —somewhere else instead. Tilly -walked in Queen Street (type that's known avj Tn v \ Doctor at the Hospital said: "What, Pancake Day V

Both gentlemen are no longer young, except in heart. Both are looking forward to a vigorous maturity of three score and ten, and a third party THE OLD VEST, introduced them only a day or two ago. "This is Mr. A.," said the third party. "Meet Mr. B." They shook, and B. said to A., "Not Charlie, is it?" "Yes," was the reply. "We went to school together," said 8., and their tongues clacked. "Bemember," said 8., "when your dad and mine kept ehops?" "That's right!" "And how your father gave up the grocery business and my dad kept his own store going for a bit?" "Yes, I remember well." "Then, continued 8., "your family were customers of the dad." "Yes." "Then my dad chucked up the grocery trade and w«nt farming and fruit growing." * "Yes, of course; it comes back to me just as if it was yesterday." "Well, when my old dad got on the farm he looked over his old grocery books. Some people didn't always pay in 'those days, if you remember ?" "That's right." "Well, the dad came across an entry showing that your dad owed him a pound!" "Goon!" "Yens! He asked me about it. I said that if your dad had owed him a quid he had paid it, and dad said yes, that he was never known to fail. My dad hovered for a moment over the old entry and crossed it out. 'That's done with!' he said, and nobody thought any more about it." "I'll tell you something you don't know anything about," continued' B. "We had been farming for five or six years, and one day I was rooting out a lot of old- clobber that had done its dash, and was going to burn it in the orchard. Out of curiosity I searched these old clothes. There was a fearful old wreck of a waistcoat, one of my own —one of thoee double-breasted affairs that used to expose about eighteen inches of hard-boiled shirt." "That's right!" chuckled A. "I felt in the pockets. In the right-hand pocket I came across .your dad's pound note." And so the two old schoolmates talked far, far into the night.

Once upon a time there was a man who had received quite a nice little earn of money for work done and accomplished. He celebrated the occasion in the way THE OLD SHED, that you, dear friend, would be guiltless of. He took his money home and gave the larger portion to his wife, but with some lingering idea that he might later desire to celebrate some other occasion he made a parcel of the remainder—some sovereigns, some notee, some silver, some coppers, and stole out to a ehed nearby. Finding a hole in the shed, he pushed the precious parcel down it, chuckled at hio cleverness, and returned to the house. Next morning he rose, his first thoughts being of his hoard. He found on examination that he had thrust his wealth down a rat hole and that it was not there. He dug frantically, without result. His wife noted hie haggard countenance, but the man did not disclose hie sorrow. "I think the landlord ought to pull that ehed down," he said then and many times thereafter. "You've got a rat about that shed," retorted his wife, and he shut up. The years passed by and he and his wife left the house and took one in a distant suburb. On Sunday afternoon he has been in the habit of strolling out to the old suburb to look at the old shed. It is still there. Recently, on being asked by his.wife why he bothered his head about a tumble-down ehed, he told her the storv of his hidden wealth. She laughed. "The rat, of course, would chew ttp the notes, but the sovereigns might be left," he said. "No! The money is not there!" chuckled the wife, and explained to him that she had followed his faltering footsteps in the years gone by and had witnessed him push the cash down the rat hole. Since which he doesn't bother about that old shed.

Dogs are not invariably partial to hedgehogs. Frank's dog doesn't like them a bit. It appears that a pet hedgehog has been in the habit of invading THE HEDGEHOG, the sanctity of Towser's backyard. Towser objects to the presence of the hedgehog with vocal efforts that have kept Frank (and the neighbours) sleepless. Towser might, of course, instead of barking, have slain the hedgehog, but a hedgehog has prickles and all dogs are cowards. If you don't believe it, watch a terrier and a determined kitten. One morning after a sleepless night made hideous by the noise of Towser his owner went into his garden to view the scene of the concert. The place was fairly tunnelled all round. There was a Via Dolorosa round the cabbage patch, a sunken road encircled the passion vine, and the whole place looked as if a conscientious relief worker had been earning his wages. Frank accounts for the tunnelling by saying that Towser, obviously afraid to make a frontal attack, had been craftily tunnelling, hoping to sink a shaft under the hedgehog and to bite him from beneath. Up to the moment the hedgehog is the superior tactitian and remains unscathed. There ie no doubt that suburban section owners might get even more digging done, by keeping dogs and porcupines.

In three years that amazing ambassador of commerce the Prince of Wales travelled '250,000 miles in other countries than hie own. His chief of staff on so AUNT SALLY, many tours (Sir Lionel Halsey) is fond of telling little stories about their travels and has recently said that during the Australian tour the people were so fond of the Prince that they threw fruit and flowers into the Royal carriage. Xaturally the people did not desire to hit the Prince, and so they usually hit the admiral, who explained to a London audience that many of the tributes were squashy. He had therefore been- christened in Australia "Aunt Sally." At the same meeting Sir Lionel mentioned that during the African tour an interpreter, speaking for a local* potentate, said, "The Prince has this day descended from Heaven at great personal inconvenience." By the way, there is nothing new in Royal commercial travellers. Following is an extract from the "Daily Chronicle" on the Paris Exhibition of 187S: "The.British section is the only one finished for the opening. This is owing chiefly to the fact that the Prince of Wales, the president, has been indefatigable in his supervision. For many weeks H.R.H. has spent his time in acting as a sort of foreman in his self-imposed task. Hie eye, hie tongue, his hands, have been busy; so much so that foreigners have been astounded that the heir apparent to the greatest Empire in the world should employ himself with concerns of such a nature The Prince of Wales follows worthily in his father's footsteps when superintending an industrial exhibition who.se very existence is the natural fruit of the labours of the Prince Consort."

A THOUGHT FOR TO-DAY. A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in. pictures of silver.—Proverbs x>f Solomon.