THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIII, Issue 37, 13 February 1932, Page 8

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MAN ABOUT TOWN.)

SITUATIONS VACANT,

Wanted: A man of business With courage and pep and thrust. Who won't be depressed at depressions, And who's motto is "Do it or bust." Wanted: A kindly landlord With a sound, philanthropic bent, Who refuses with hearty laughter When proffered the weekly rent. Urgent: An honest genius Willing advise for nix, Who can find a lightning solution — Country's financial fix.

Wan ted : Experienced player, E fiat saxophone, To take it away to blazes, And play it there on his own. Required; A walking miracle With the Solomon light in his eye, Who can solve unemployment problems. No others need apply. Urgent. At once. If not sooner. Required a prophet. Go shares. Piilye prophets take notice, our office Has convenient three flights of stairs. —A.H,

"H.J.": It was tea time in a Rcmuera home. Said mother to her youngest son: "Tlicy tell me you got a hiding to-day from your big brother down at SEA SPIRIT. the model yacht races." "Yes, I did." "And P™y what for?" "Oil, I just dropped my model and broke the bowsprit. Brother gave me a hiding with what was left of it, but it didn't hurt." "Evidently not, for he says you giggled all the time." "Yes, and do you know why? I was thinking if they di> this on the big yachts to drive the spirit of the sea into the crews they'd have some fun on the Ariki when she broke her bowsprit."

_ It will refresh the taxpayer to know that New Zcalandcrs are not the only sufferers from retrenchment. There comes news from

British Columbia tliat the RETRENCHMENT. Government there is going to almost unbelievable lengths in a campaign against extravagance. In short, it haa issued an order to field officers in the Agricultural Department that they must not in future wear spats and carry canes. You may laugh, but the fact remains that no inspector will hereafter be permitted to stroll into the cow byre habited like a Bond Street swell. Apropos, maybe you remember Hotspur ("Henry IV.") being rather peeved before the King

. . I rememtter, when the fight was don«, When I was dry with rage and extreme toil, lircathloss and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress't, Fresh as a bridegroom ; and liis chin, new reap't, Shew'd like a stubble land at harvest home; He was perfumed like a milliner; And 'twixt his linger and his thumb he held A pouncet-box, which ever and anon He gave his nose, and took't away again; Who, therewith angry, when it came next there, Took it in snuff; and still he smil'd and talk'd; And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, He called them untaught knaves, unmannerly, To bring a slovenly, unhandsome corse Betwixt the wind and his nobility.

A Whangarei lady interested in tlie colonial accent and tlie variations of it spoken by the unconsidered populace of 1,849,500,000, which, living outside DRAKE'S DIALECT. New Zealand, has so few

advantages, mentions that H.M.s. Laburnum recently visited northern ports. Little Miss New Zealand, aged fifteen years, looked over the sloop. On coming ashore she said of the crew: "They can't talk properly yet, as they haven't been out here very long." Somehow, one knows not why, the typical attitude here displayed reminds one of a "Punch" picture. The mistress and the new maid are together. The mistress, speaking, says she cannot understand why Mary, who had so fully answered all her questions, should have refrained in her written application from saying that she was Scottish. And Mary replied: "Ah didna wish to be boasting, mem."

Dear M.A.T., —The delightful knitting for men sketches in the "Star" remind me of the day I went to Paradise. The ferry took many hours to get there, and MEN KNITTERS, the scenery, although most beautiful, is insipidly "still life," slightly monotonous after a few hours. I had with me a supper cloth with a buttonhole border and was therefore perfectly happy. Most of the other women had a similar refuge. The men looked at the view. Even so. Near Queenstown on the return trip one of the men stopped in front of me and watched my progress for a while. Then he said: "It looks nice, but it's so monotonous to do, isn't it?" And I wondered then, and have wondered ever since, whether Mountmellick. work is more (or less) monotonous than doing nothing, for it was eight hours in all. —Ezraline.

Fascinating sport digging into the old wallet, or the bottom drawer, to see what one can bring up in the way of old. snippets,

and there have been some GOING! GOING! notable prizes republished herein. Returning from the Markets, where he had seen a large case of tip-top pears sold for two shillings, M.A.T. found the letter of late of the Royal Engineers, waiting. The correspondent was in hospital in Pietermaritzburg during the Relief of Ladysmith and clipped a list of auction sale prices out of a Natal newspaper. Joe Dyson was the auctioneer. Noted that luxuries fetched the highest prices, lifty cigars being knocked down for £9 5/. A quarter-pound cake of tobacco sold for £2 5/, and a halfpound cake for'£3 5/. A packet of nine cigarettes fetched 23/, and a packet of matches 11/. Eggs brought £2 8/ a dozen, a glass of jelly went for 18/, a small plate of grapes was had for £1 5/, a plate of escliallots fetched 11/ and a vegetable marrow £1 8/, and so on, and so forth. The question troubling M.A.T. is "Where did the soldiers get their money from?"

To-morrow will be St. Valentine's Day, but there will be nothing doing. Nobody will "get one on to" anyone else by sending him a hideous jest on a colST. VALENTINE, oured card, and no one

will send anybody one of those glittering love tokens with skewered hearts amid a bower of flowers. In earlier days it was quite different. There was plenty doing. For instance, there is the ease ot Marjory Brews, who lived in 1470, and the following extract is from the "Letters of Marjjaret Paston": "The mother of Mistress Marjory Brews invited him (the eligible suitor) from 'Thursday tyll Monday,' when she trusts Friday, being as she reminds him, 'Sent Volentvne's Day and every brj'dde chesyth hym a make (mate), we schall bryng the matter to a conclusyon.' Later on, Mistress Marjory writes to her 'ryglxt welebelovyd Voluntyna, John Paston, Squyr,' though protesting 'if that ye hade not halfe the lyvelodc that ye hafe

. . . I wold not forsake yowe.'" This Valentine business was in full flower when Samuel Pepys, the naughty diarist and immortal Secretary of the Royal Navy, lived. Here is an extract from February 14, 1G0S: "Up, being called up by Mercer, who come to be my Valentine, and I did give her a guinney in gold for her Valentine's gift. There comes Roger Pepys betimes and comes to my wife, for her to be his Valentine, whose Valentine I was also, by agreement to be so to her every year and this year. I find it is likely to cost £4 or £."> in a riufj for her which she deserves. On another St. Valentine's Day this morning comes Dickie Pen to be my wife's Valentine, and comes to our bedside. By the same token I had him brought to my side, thinking to have made him kiss 11105 but he perceived me and would not; so went to his Valentine; a notable, stout, witty boy."