THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIII, Issue 253, 25 October 1932, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MAN ABOUT TOWN.)

Tireless man deputes machines to do so many things for us that the labourer is becoming unworthy of his hire. Opulent persons whose valets respeetWHY WORK? fully mention that the bath is now ready, sir, and whose maid brings in the morning cup of tea, are, one learns, now able to dispense with human aid as far as the tea is concerned for an alarm clock with a tea-making attachment is on the market. It was invented in Britain and is made at Hanwell—where, by the way, there is a celebrated mental hosoital The" mechanism, minutely explained, begins its thoughtful work ten minutes before the clock alarm strikes and while the deeper is still in the .arms of Morpheus. The machine boils the water and brews the tea. \ further novelty attached to it is that there ie enough boiling water left over for a shave, although why the machanism is not augmented by a steel arm that hands one the newspaper one is not able to *ay. An automatic shave performed by a robot while the potential shaver is still wrapped in slumber is indicated. 4n"-10-Indians of the ruling class have been used for generations to the pre-waking shave —which has hitherto been performed by the silent "nappy," who steals barefooted to the sahib'e charpoy with soap, brush and razor and charms the whiskers from him with deft strokes. There seems to be no reason why a mechanical shaver should not supersede the "nappy," thus saving his wages of eighteenpence a week.

Quite a compliment has been paid to New Zealand by a gentleman eighty-live years of a«e who intended to cany three hundred and seventy-five pounds in THE MISSING Bank of England notes in LETTER, a handkerchief from Christchurch to Pembroke. One fantastically wonders if secretiveness in an owner is not the greatest aid to the thief. If that old man, for instance, had travelled with his wealth in a portable safe or a dispatch .box, or had had a special P°<*et made in his waistcoat for the same, he might have attracted more attention. Burglars have learned by a study of human beings- that they secrete their valuables in certain places. No housebreaker ever neglects to open the top right-hand drawer of the family bedroom bureau —and a safe is always a challenge. One often wonders if less care would not be the better protection. Perhaps you forget Poe e excellent story of the missing letter? It was of immense international importance. Might have meant war and all that sort of thing. It was lost—stolen by some nefarious spy, maybe. French police—the best in the world —searched the house of the Minister who had laet had the document, walls, furniture, floors, carpets, drawers, everything. They even taplied all the chair legs for possible hiding places. r>upin—no doubt the inspiration for Sherlock Holmes and a thousand other detectives of fiction, had a deep-think and simply went to the Minister's office and took the letter from the mantelpiece, where it was carelesslystabbed to the wallpaper with a common pin. The "thief" had merely not been secretive — that's all.

The excellent idea for the dissemination of chosen books per travelling caravan recently discuesed by the Churches has reminded a reclaimed Australian of A HAIRY SAINX. the hawkers of ancient days who combed the country with tilted carts drawn by patient horses. These carts were travelling depots of cheap wares the hawkers hoped to sell for dear prices to hairy bushmen, some of whom could read. The average hawker would buy a hundredweight of books and chuck them in. You eee, there might be a bloke, cove or coot eomewhere who could read —yous never knowed. Once there was a new chum thirsting for literature who gazed into the tail of the cart and saw a heap of sixpenny paper-covered books, and there being no books of any kind in his employer's house, he bought three shillings' worth. He chose "David Copperfield," " Vanity Fair," " All Sorts and Conditions of Men," '"' Hard Cash," " Cranford," and " Westward Ho! " He took this modest library to his hut. The sanctified person who employed him glared at the little bundle and asked, " 'Ow much did yer pay for them?" And the boy replied, "Three shillings." The sanctified one who never read left it at that for the moment, and departed to his plough. After work the lad read far into the night with the aid of a fat lamp, and turned to in the stockyard at sparrow chirp tired but happy. At breakfast time he found the sanctified one feeding his new library into the kitchen fire. He strenuously objected, and only rescued " All Sorts," which he still has. The furious saint was muttering " Three shillin's worth o' rubbish—three shillin's worth o' rubbish." with some allusion to " the roonation of a immortal soul." One wonders if the attitude towards literature among the hairy saints of the backblocks has changed since those days

When Robert Raikes, tlie Gloucester printer, invented Sunday schools he did not foresee the competition for pupils noted by the Synod at Christehurch, MR. RAIKES. where, it has been alleged,

one organisation will entice the little scholars from another organisation with lollies and other mundane matters. Robert's invention became universal and was hailed with delight in 1730 by parents who in so many cases worked seven days a week and didn't know what to do with the kiddies. Subsequently a thankful parentage en masse erected a monument to the late Mr. Raik.es, editor of the "Gloucester Journal," and it still stands in the City of the Four Gates. Phil May further Immortalised the statue of Robert by showing naughty little boys pelting it with stones —wherein the kiddies wore different to those of our days, who appear to go willingly to school if the lolly crop is sufficient. Who lias not heard of the sudden access of pupils to a Sunday school the annual treat of which is impending? It unhappily has to be admitted that there ha've been dear little children who have attended three or four different Sunday schools in a year, no doubt loving all the teachers, but also' qualifying for three separate treats, anniversaries, pinnies, lollies, racing and what not. In earlier times, the methods for enticing a clientele of kiddies from one Sundaj school to another were not so well thought out, and there are old Sunday school scholars who remember those excellent little cards (printed in Germany) given to each little scholar at each attendance, who, having collected a dozen of these gifts, might exchange them for one more superb and much larger one. Of course, one school might seduce pupils from another with a magic lantern show, and this gives modern superintendents a chance to suggest talkie pictures as a draw. By the way, the immortal Robert Raikcs was induced to invent his Sunday school in sorrow for the poor children of Gloucester, building the basis of an organisation that could look after bodily needs, too.

THOUGHTS FOR TO-DAY. No man gains good who is not bold And ready danger to confront. But if he dares, and bears his brunt, He then shall good behold —Mahabharata. Accustom yourself to attempt those things which you despair to perform.—Marcus Aureliue. Flattery is often a traffic of mutual meanness where, although both parties intend deception, neither are deceived, since words that cost little are exchanged for hopes that cost less. — Colton.