THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIII, Issue 264, 7 November 1932, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MAN ABOUT TOWN.)

SYNTHETICS. Tbev swear they've got synthetic wool That beats the present goods, and To make the bitter potion full, Thev only want synthetic cow. Who knows, perhaps the day is near When we'll dine off synthetic chops, And drink synthetic bottled beer Brewed from the best synthetic hops.

Perhaps we're shortly going to see A biscuit of synthetic make. Xo doubt we'll drink synthetic tea With slices of synthetic cakeMeanwhile the fanner glum doth sit And conjures up synthetic birds; He'll tell you what he thinks of it In just a few synthetic words.

Dear M.A.T.,—Apropos of tie "Star" illustration of an actress who for publicity purposes reclined in an empty barrel for a week in London, I am prompted POETIC LICENSE, to ask whether a notice "Barrel.supplied by Gladys Cwper" was appended. Of course, the incident invites a. little poetical effort with a theatrical atmosphere, viz., props and hops, brew and revue, bung and sung, or even barrel and Johnnie FarrelL However, I do sincerely hope that the lady made enough, to cover her XXXX's.—B.C'H.

Dear M.A.T.,—Sam is one of those individuals who take a morbid delight in prognosticating evil. Give him an audience and he -will dilate by the hour on THE CRISIS. calamities that are going to happen. This occasion he was holding forth on currency reform, and after a vivid description of the financial chaos which existed, said, "I don't think you chaps realise how imminent a financial crisis is. He paused to let that sink in, during which Joe "ot in with, "Financial crisis! Thats nothing. We're used to *h.em at^ our house. We have one every Friday night."—Jem,

Although the old-time Auckland watermen mentioned here have rowed across the Stvx and Charon and have seen many other good and trusty oarsmen MEN IN BOATS, since, mention, ofi those sturdy old fellows revives memory of a muscular Christian of not so very long ago. This gentleman each Sunday used to "start out in his rowing boat from Stanley Bay, pull across to the city, walk out to Mount Eden, conduct a church service, walk back to the port, and pull his boat again to the North. Shore. A young son of this athletic father, also addicted to boats, built a pulling boat for himself, and, fair or foul, pulled it across the harbour every morning to his work, and pulled home in the evening. Boats were in the blood, and he became a professional boat builder. Another ardent boat puller belonged to the Permanent Artillery and pulled from Devonport to St. Helier's every day, where, having finished his work, he pulled* back again.

2foted that a professional "escapologist" at Home was lately immured in a barrel—and did not escape. When the management knocked the head out of the barTWO rel the gentleman was ABSTAINERS, fast asleep—yes, worse

than that! The barrel had contained p«rt wine—hard lines to achieve intoxication without a single sip- Years ago when M.A.T. told the etory of the intoxicated total abstainer several persons were quite rude —scouted it as a canard. The facts are these: Andrew (late o£ Glasgae Univairsitee) was as deoer f t a body as ever went to church and an undoubted T.T. He worked at Mildura (Vic.) for experience, ye ken, in a vineyard—where they made wine in vats at least twelve feet high and as big round as a young gasometer. |Andra' was sent to scrub an emptied vat. He took his bucket and scrubber up the ladder and was seen pulling the ladder up so that he might descend inside. Thirty minutes later the exceedingly loud words of an unexpurgated song were heard proceeding from, the vat. A rescue party looking over the edge of the vat exclaimed almost in unison, "He's as tight as a drum —as drunk as a lord—sozzled to the wide!" It is fair to say that when this Scottish teetotaller became sober he at once left the wine trade and was last heard of teaching young Australians the English language as spoken in Aberdeen.

The family firewood heap, no less than the fruit box "doomed for kindling, has been a favourite medium for blackened eves for

many gene ration s—a THE KINDLING, darkened orbit very sel-

dom being received from any other source. An ardent chopper, however, hobbled painfully into view this morning without black eyes but with one foot out of commission. He had. been chopping the kindling—hence the hobble. A few weeks prior to this casualty a middle-aged man who had spent all his young life with the axe strolled into view possessing only seven fingers and the iisual complement ofi thumbs. He had been chopping kindling, too. Axemen habituated to the daily use of the blade stand on a log, very often barefooted, chopping a ecarf within an inch of the toes —and rarely make a mistake, although, one never knows what a champion axeman may do 'with a tomahawk and a bit of -white pine box. The limping box chopper serves to remind this amateur chopper of "German Charlie"—who, by the : way, came from Holland. He was a noted axeman and employed in the firewood getting trade. It wag said that he could chop ten tons of red gum firewood in a day. Anyway, Charlie was standing on a log one day crosschoppLng it, when some fathead, from the rear sung out, "Charlie!" Charles turned while the axe was in the air, and as it fell it didn't miss his left foot. The axe fell between the great toe and its next supporter. Charlie hobbled to his camp, smothered, the foot with Stockholm tar, .bound it up with rag torn from a tent —and went back to his work.

Reference to the fast-disappearing veteran soldier-settlers who fought in the Taranaki wars reminds a man who has mixed with these fierce old fellows during BROWN BESS, the annual celebrations and gone on the pilgrimage to Te Ngiatu-o-te-Jlanu, where New Zealand's romantic hero, von Tempsky, was killed. Subsequent to one of these pilgrimages, the writer had the privilege of being the only outsider in a little hotel gathering of these veterans—one of whom, by the way, wore the gold medal awarded to "the- best shot in the British Army" in the Crimean campaign. The writer, who had been over the von Tempsky ground, unwittingly started a disturbance by asking the old gentleman to name the exact spot where the gallant Austrian fell. The country had, of course, changed greatly, and the bush the old soldiers remembered so well had been treated in the traditional New Zealand way. No two old fellows agreed about the spot, and a highly acrimonious dispute followed between ancient fighters, who seemed to be all ages between eighty and a century. Although it is pleasing to recall that there was life in the old boys yet, they all got so heated that some slight interference was necessary to prevent the contestants from having another war—with walking sticks. By the way, the octogenarian who had been the best shot in the Crimea was on the New Plymouth range given a modern service rifle to shoot with. It was the first time he had ever seen one. It having been explained, he lay down at five hundred, yards and with bare eyes rattled on two bulls and a maggie in the first three rounds. "But I could do better with a. Browju-Bese/? said: he. .\, - .*_/" 4 J