THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 83, 8 April 1933, Page 8

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MAN ABOUT TOWN.) Apropos the comfortable imprisonment in the Tower of London and the court-martial of Lieutenant Norman Baillic-Stewart, of the Seaforth Highlanders, the THE TOWER. novel circumstances have enormously increased the popularity of the most dismal and most dreadful place in England. A London friend writes to mention that a couple of backblock Americans in London tried to bribe a Beefeater to show them the place "where the headsman does his stuff," under the impression that the man with the axe was still engaged in his business of daily decapitation. In one room of the White Tower, Sir Walter Raleigh, spent his last night on earth. He wrote these beautiful lines that night: E'en such Is Time, that takes in trust Our youth, our joys, our all we have, And pays us but with earth and dust; Who in the dark and silent grave, Where we have wandered all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days. But from this earth, this grave, this dust. My God shall raise me up, I trust.

PERSONALITY OF THE [WEEK.

Arthur Telford Donnelly, LL.B., chairman of the management committee of the New Zealand Cricket Council, is described by "Plum", Warner as "guide, philosoNO. 382. pher and friend" to the

M.C.C. team during its New Zealand tour. Mr. Donnelly, who lias played cricket all his life —in both senses of the word —has been on the council since he was twenty-one years young. He's only double that age now, but just about as young as he used to be. He has been chairman every year since 1928-9 to the present time, except the 1931-2 season, when he visited England to see his fellow countrymen play the first New Zealand Test match at Lord's. While at Home, Mr. Donnelly represented us with that other stalwart, Arthur Sims (New Zealand representative, 1899, 1905, 1910) at the Imperial Cricket Conference. He is an appeal judge of the New Zealand Racing Conference and a steward of the Canterbury J.C. He served in the Otago Regiment during the war, and was sportsman enough as a barrister to offer his services as prisoners' advocate in several courts-martial. He was schooled at the Marist Brothers School, Christchurch High School and Canterbury College, becoming Crown Solicitor in Christchurch in 1921. The average stranger one is permitted to sit alongside on public vehicles is often a chatty person, and a very friendly and democratic thing, it is, too. A THE DIVIDEND, gentleman addicted to finance and other nonsporting occupations recently sat alongside a man keenly interested in his newspaper. The reader, obviously under the delusion that all people that on earth do dwell know everything about horse racing, suddenly said, "My word, Brown Bubble musta paid a snortin' div." The financial gentleman turned calmly to the sportsman and said, "I presume Messrs. Brown and Bubble have gone bankrupt. What dividend did you say they paid?" Hilarious reference in New York cablegrams of the day to the return of beer in many States has been discussed with animation by local experts. Stories HAVE A SPOT! of capacity have flowed from lip to ear, and one of the most repellent (to those of an abstemious nature) is that of the bet made by an army officer at Colon that his batman would drink thirty quart bottles of British beer in two hours. The repellent part of the yarn is merely that the batman did it. Another fruity old story during the day was that of the old-fashioned beer drinker—no, not a German!—who bet five shillings that he could drink "a bucket of beer." Friends of this genius filled a bucket with ale, set it down on the bar floor, and dared George to drink it. George begged to be excused for a few minutes, and left the hotel. He returned, picked up the bucket, and drained it to the bottom. The five shillings were paid over. "Were did 'e go, Garge, w'en you did leave the pub?" And Garge replied, "I did go over to the Pig and Rooster to zee if I could do it— and I can!"

Britain, like Russia, has a Five-Year Plan. It is mentioned per cable that Mr. Bull will wipe out the slums in England and Wales, and very likely even ScotTHE SLUMS. land (where such a plan is most needed) may follow suit. One of the novelties about slums is that slum dwellers hate to leave them, and another is that some place has to be found for even the poorest folk while the new homes are being raised. There was, if you remember, the case of tho old London lady who lived in the same nefarious spot all her life. The authorities gave her notice to quit because they wanted to raze her old home to the ground. Lady kicked np a row —wanted to be left to live and die in the old spot. Kindly authorities insisted—old lady died next day. A few years ago there was a determined effort to root out a nest in London where criminals lived. Property owners protested. Cases were heard before learned judges. One judge insisted that you must give even the most abandoned class some place to live in— and besides if you concentrate one known class of people in a certain area, the police know where to go. The next few generations will spend their time training habitual slum dwellers to live like trained bungaloafers. The novelty of taking people out of their habitual environment was nicely illustrated in a famous paper. Bill, Bella and the kids are seen in the bathroom of a new "council" house. Bill says, "Struth! 'Ere's a dinky little barfroom. Wot shall us use it for, Bella 2" Dear M.A.T.,—The following was overheard at a suburban railway station the other morning: A number of school youngsters were waiting for the train, and HIS FEET. one lad had on sandshoes. "Gee, you're a silly mutt," said Ids friend; "you were told to wear shoe.*." However, another pal noticed the boy's crestfallen face and came to the rescue with: "That's all right, Jimbo—tell 'them your dad's on relief -work,"—E.B.