THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 88, 15 April 1933, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MAN ABOUT TOWN.)

Dear M.A.T.—Having read in your column for the umpteenth time that Bob Fitzeimmons (born June, ISG2, at Helston, Cornwall, England, Europe, who WHO'S WHO. was nu teller's boy, coach painter and house painter before lie became a "blacksmith in New Zealand), was a New Zealander, I would be tickled to death if you could explain why a mere nonentity like myself (and about 40,000 more residents In this fair city) should, after manv years', residence in New Zealand, be indelibly stamped and liailed by the nativeborn as a "Pommie," and by the census-taker as a "European"? Can it be that it is because I am a nonentity, and should I become a world champion yo-yo expert I should be acclaimed as a true dinkum Digger. Sycophant.

PERSONALITY OF THE WEEK.

Dr. E. H. B. Milsom is prouder of his work than of his play. He is entitled to be proud of both. He is a eon of Canterbury pioneer settlers, his No. 383. mother arriving in Christchurch in 1856. His grandfather, with a son of Bishop Harper, discovered the first gold in Canterbury. The future doctor and sportsman went to the Christchurch Boys' High School. Scholarships fell to him. He is an M.D. of London and of the 2s T ew Zealand University. At Guy's Hospital he played both football and cricket against the cracks, the cracks including the immortal cricketer W. G. Grace. Dr. Milsom has practised his profession in England, Christchurch, Wellington and Auckland, has been in this city for the last quarter of a century, and has for many years been an lion, surgeon at the general hospital. He has been president of the B.M.A. in Auckland. Everybody knows he plays golf, but not in matches nowadays. He won the junior championship at Middlemore in 1921. Is a profound student of horse breeding. At the moment he has a string of youngsters w-ho will be heard of. He bred, among others, the brilliant Amnion Ra, the leading three-year-old a couple of seasons ago. He bred Prodice, too, a fine performer. Like some of his horses, he is hard to catch, but he's worth while when he's caught.

There is a lad in a local business who will probably attain eminence as a company promoter when the clouds roll by. On a recent day during lunch hour he LUNCH TIME. promoted a raffle. The prize was "an electric clock." The tickets were twopence a time, the members numbering a score or more. Tickets were provided, hatted, shuffled and drawn. The promoter announced that Number Five was the number he had selected as the prize-winner. Twenty-odd men gazed rapturously at their tickets. Everyone yelled, "I've won the prize!" simply because every ticket bore the same number. The young joker was asked: "Where is the electric clock?" He pointed to the synchronised clock belonging to the firm and firmly embedded in the wall. Loud laughter. Twopences returned. Clock jumped a minute. One o'clock. Turn to. t One learns, on perusal of the British Postal Guide, that if you can satisfy the G.P.O. of your bona fides you may post your grandfather at ManG.P.O. . Chester and. -he will be delivered at any town within the Postal Union. No information is given as to the number of stamps you must stick on grandpa. Countries in the Postal Union have each a list of prohibited articles that may not be sent through the post. Mexico will not tolerate babies' "dummies," for instance, presumably on the ground that they are not good for the health, of coming revolutionaries. The Gold Coast bars knuckledusters in the post —a survival of the days when those keen Belgian slavers used this type of persuasion with the natives. Czechoslovakia will under no circumstances accept Christmas crackers in the mailbag, possibly because' the people got all the explosion necessary toy merely repeating the name of the country. Brazil will not tolerate handcuffs, which reminds one that Brazil is so often a gathering place for gentlemen who would be asked to wear handcuffs in (;he countries they hail from. Australia objects to the posting of human hair or electric snuff. New Zealand tells the public that, -unless it is registered, one must not post money. What money ?

While the general public, his wife and the children celebrate Easffcr with glad cries round the totalisator, or picking up a swag weighing a hundredweight, hike lip THE HOLIDAY, perpendicular hills, there is an appreciable number of folks to whom the holiday is a work day. The man who goes to work on Good Friday or Easter Monday is surprised, pained, hurt and astonished ,to note that his small world has changed'in a single night. Ho finds a determined-looking stranger nursing a suitcase sitting in his bus seat. Ho grits his teeth and notes that he has never seen a single soul in that Ibus before. He is stirred out of his groove—and a jolly good job, sez you. Aboard the ferry he finds a new race of strangers. A fiend in human form had boned his poesie downstairs on the starboard side. Strange women carrying strange babies and with strange men in white trousers dot the scenery. Perfectly hateful! A man who has no right to be on earth snips his ticket. Queen Street is choked with wretches who have never been seen in his own Queen Street before. The tram conductor who snips his ticket is a novelty, the policeman on the beat is a recruit, the immaculately dressed persons standing in the doorways of hotels seem lost. They are all strangers, and down for a breath of racing. He thanks a merciful Providence when he is at last in his office, far far from the clamour of this dreadful, strange Easter world - , ,i, «.