THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIII, Issue 121, 24 May 1932, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MAN ABOUT TOWN.) It is touching that the traits of Scottish ancestors are passed on to the colonial child. There is the case of young Jack (or is it Jock J) who came to town BUSINESS, from a super-suburb with his mother. His mother had business to attend to, but, looking at Jock's locks, she decided that it was a suitable moment for him to get them reaped. She therefore directed him to a hairdresser s palace and instructed him when he had been reaped to meet her nnder an indicated veranaaii. When she had finished her shopping she wen to the verandah and waited interminably. At last Jock turned up, smiling and well groomecl, his hair amputated. "Good gracious, Jock, said his mother. "Wherever have you been so long? I've been waiting here for twenty minutes." Jock exhibited a threepenny bit and explained, "I was 'next,' mum, but a joker came in and ho was in a hurry, so I sold him my turn for a thrum; can I buy some lollies, mum ?" Dear M.A.T., —It appears that the humble (?) pound note is now also being used as a telegram, lettercard, etc. Messages of all kind appear on the back of the "SEZ YOU!" little quidlets. Some gentlemen, or rather men, have written some very insulting things on the back of the note. "Take it, George!" was written on one; another, obviously written by a sentimentalist, runs, "Good-bye, old pal. "You used to be worth twenty bob," was one, written no doubt by one who has studied the effects of the gold standard and Mr. Forbes taxes. A fiction reader writes, "The Last ot the Mohicans." If ho had written Smith, Jones or Brown we would have known what he meant, but I have seen no Moliioans declared bankrupt yet. Another bright person wrote "Good times are coming"; this was crossed out and "Sez you!" written undeincath. —Enzed. The visitor mentioned that he was sixteen years of ago in and therefore knows his Auckland at a time when there were mud and hitching posts in Queen AN OLD STUNT. Street. Of special interest | was his reference to old shows in old days. There were at the time on tour the Davenport brothers, famed for their ability to escape every kind of restraining influence. Throughout New Zealand the brothers had been tied to chairs and other stage furniture by every kind of expert in knots. Invariably they escaped from their bonds with the greatest ease. They came to Auckland and put on their show in the theatre at the foot of Victoria Street. The spokesman invited any painter, sailor, builder or other person expert in the use of knots to come up and tie them to chairs in order to show Auckland how easy it was for them to free themselves. Captain Braund, an old seafarer, strolled up and accepted the invitation. Ho tied the brothers well and truly, and the brothers remained tied. The showmen complained that Brauiul had tied them so tightly that the circulation of the blood had ceased, but a doctor hopped out of the audience, examined the prisoners, and declared that their blood was circulating excellently. In short, the showmen remained fast until Braund freed them. There's a shout from the United States that the draught horse is coming into his own again because horse feed is cheap and "gas" is dear. Even though a OLD NUGGET, young New Zealander named Watts, now in West Australia, claims to have evolved a distillate that will make power traction seventy-five per cent cheaper, there is 110 doubt that the geegee will be heard of a great deal throughout the coming centuries no matter what distillate man uses for the stecl-and-wire steed. At a moment when it seems possible that old Nugget will heave at the tugs as lie did lang syne, it is appropriate to hope that he will choose the people who drive him. People, for instance, who know that New Zealand was "made" by the draught horse would be glad to see the day when every man who is to drive a horse should be licensed to do so. He has to take out a license to drive a contraption that cannot feci and on which whips fall unheeded, but there have been so many centuries during which human fools have made fifteen-hundredweight horses pull two tons and fed them with the whip that people have been positively glad to see the motor bit by bit oust mail's most willing slave. If the horse comes back as a hauling project, the statesman who is able to insist that the driver shall be skilled, humane, and that lie shall demonstrate his ability before he is trusted with a. horse, will do great work. Tlio wide earth is salted with the bones of equine slaves who have been worked to death. May the horse never come back to suffer the experiences of the dear old days. Fellow scribe "Cyrano," -writing in the "Star" Magazine Section on the late William Pember Peeves, the distinguished New Zealander, said, "There is a "THESE 'ERE story about Mr. Peeves SHAMMIES." guying a dull member, who urged that chamois . should bo imported into New Zealand. Peeves sent to the library f(,r Mark Twain's account of chamois-hunting in Swiss inns (the lethal ammunition in such cases is Heating's), and read it to the House." A veteran "Hansard" reporter writes: "With regard to tlio above excerpt there are one or two points I would like to make, in the interests of history. I happened to witness this incident, and am probably the only surviving pressman who did, unless Mr. W. H. Atack, late manager of the Press Association, or Mr. P. A. Loughnan, happen also to have been in the Press Gallery when it occurred. It was not Peeves who produced 'The Innocents Abroad/ but Richard Turnbull, a venerably bearded old gentleman who at the time represented Timaru. The butt of the joke was 'Jock' Kerr, a burly, wealthy and uneducated old chap who was member for Motueka. The Estimates for the year were under discussion, and Jock spotted a vote for the importation of chamois, which it was proposed to acclimatise oil the South Island Alps. He rose and asked for information as to 'what these 'ere shammies is.' Mr. Turnbull interjected, 'I'll get the honourable gentleman information on the point.' Accordingly, he sent in to the library, which was in a recess off the lobby of the old building—destroyed in the fire that occurred about 1908—and got the book and put it into the hand of Jock, who proceeded to read Mark's description of the acrobatic feats of the little critters that he described under the euphemism of chamois. Hardly necessary to say how the House roared. Whether Jock was really as innocent in the matter as appeared has never been certain. On the same evening Jock also caused merriment by inquiring about another vote, which provided for the introduction of some of the then up-to-date artillery for the New Zealand forts, and asked whether it was true that the weapons were 'guns that will shoot round corners,' ovident'.y thinking of something that ho had read about tlio use of high-angle fire. —Fred Weston." THOUGHTS FOR TO-DAY. In every human being lies the spark of immortal beauty to be fanned into flame by one little rightly directed breath. —W. J. Locke. Our finest hope is finest memory, As they who love in ago think youth is blest Because it has a life to fill with love. —George Eliot.