THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 103, 3 May 1935, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MAN ABOTJT TOWN.)

He was a two-day-a-week man, ancl was in town this morning to spend the Jubrfee bonus of 50 per cent, which was given relie workers this week, step LOST GANG. ping into the writer's room, he said: I read that par about the cricket team and the foreIn stepping on the tat hidden in the .end, and it is true, every word of it. 1 Know because I was one of the team. But I <rive you a better one than that, and it happened in the same district. The foreman, as you say, used to dfop round occasionally to have a look at us, and then motor off to another gang in a different part of the district. One day—it was one of our working days—he arrived, but the place was quiet and peaceful as a church. Not a worker was in si"-ht, not a sound of pick, shovel, hammer or"even cricket bat could be heard. The ganger motored off to other jobs, but not a sign ot the missing gang could he find. He simply ticked us off as 'not at work, and the fox-* lowing week we had to make up the time.

The falling to sleep of the defendant in a case at the New Plymouth Court this week is pardonable, as the defendant is a baker, and it was explained to DIDN'T KNOW the Court that he had HIM I been working all night. A good story is told of an occasion in Auckland in the days_ of the Arbitration Court when a certain union made application for a new award, and particularly asked for a shortening of hours. Those days there was no such thing as even a forty-eight-liour week, and the men in the particular industry or service started about 5 a.m. and worked till approaching a.m. next day—and they worked seven days (and nights) each week. One witness was giving evidence for the union and was asked to tell the Court in detail how many hours he worked, how much time he had off, and so on. The witness thought for a moment, and then said, "Well, it would be difficult to say, because we don't keep time-sheets. But I will give you some idea. I wasn't feeling too good one afternoon and had to go home. On my way I saw my little boy in a street throwing stones at another boy, so I walked up to him and gave him a clip on the ear. He ran straight home and tokl his mother a strange man had hit him."

Dear M.A.T., —In a suburb of Wellington once dwelt a man of sincere Presbyterian Sabbath views. It is almost impossible for the present rising generaSUNDAY TENNIS, tion to realise what strict observance of a Sunday those views then meant—no looking at illustrated papers, no smoking, no playing of marbles or tops for boys, and for men no tennis or golf. On one occasion the Bishop of Wellington conducted a service at this suburb, and afterwards dined with a local magnate holding those drastic notions. One cannot say that the presence of the bishop was not popular with the sons of the house, but it seemed certain that the game of tennis usually played what time dad had his after-Sunday-dinner nap was automatically barred. The boys aimlessly strolled about hoping- for the bishop's early departure, when suddenly his Lordship said, "Why on earth aren't these boys playing tennis? There's the court and it seems a fearful waste of opportunity." From that day of emancipation the boys played Sunday tennis, and one of them, when met in Queen Street recently, doesn't appear to be any the worse for it.—A.L.D.

The' shooting season has opened, and from now on we may expect to see in the city streets after the siren goes numerous men carrying home a couple of GOOD SHOT. . ducks or pheasants

threaded on a piece of string. The fact that any butcher or fishmonger will dress and clean a brace of birds for a few pence cuts no ice with the man with the birds —all the pleasure is in carrying them home for his friends to see and cast longing leers at. The good wife can do the plucking and cleaning—that's what a good wife is for. Shooting before May 1 is not cricket, but it is hard when out popping at bunnies to carry your gun at trail arms wihen a pheasant arises from a hedge or scrub. Three sportsmen who love to pull the trigger when there is anything to shoot at on one occasion motored into the country after rabbits. As all good sportsmen do, they tramped over anybody's property without obtaining permission and were making their way along and close to a hedge wlien a hen pheasant flew up. In a flash three guns were pointing at the bird, and three reports rang out as one. Down dropped the bird, and all three claimed it. The sex of the bird was of no moment till the owner of the property stepped into view. Immediately he was within hearing distance two of the trio turned on their companion. "What the dickens did you shoot for? It was a good shot of yours, Alf, but you should have seen it was a hen." Alf tipped the owner of the projierty, and rio more was heard of the matter.

Dear M.A.T., —In "The Passing Show" "The Brigadier" is "drawing a long bow." Ctesiphon is only some twenty-five miles south of Bagdad—and instead

CTESIPHON. of being "miles away from the beaten track," it actually stands near the banks of tlio River Tigris. Also it is on a fairly good motor road (we used to motor down to Ctesiphon, leave our ears near the areh, and cross the River Tigris for black partridge shooting—in the season). Then, again—"near Hillah, far away to the 'north-west,' are the ruins of ancient Babylon." Actually Hillali and Babylon are south-west of Ctesiphon (not north-west). Hillah is "a town in Iraq, about sixty miles south of Bagdad in 32 degrees 28 north, and 44 degrees 48 east." —Encyclopaedia Britannica. I see tihat "The Brigadier," speaking of Ctesiphon, says, "It is doubtful whether even Alexander penetrated so far." Now my copy of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, Volume 1, page 5G9, shows a picture of "The death of Alexander the Great at Babylon in 323, 8.C." I suggest that "old soldiers" in again seeing a photograph of the Arch of Ctesiphon are reminded of the first battle of Ctesiphon on November 21, 1915, when General Townshend —although he gained the initial advantage— was forced by weight of superior numbers to commence his tragic retreat to Kut. The socoiul battle of Ctesiphon (or the battle of Lajj, as it is officially called) took place on Mareli 5, 1017, in the course of General Marshall's advance on Bagdad. It was here that Colonel Richardson, commanding the 13th Hussars, extended his four squadrons and advanced against what he took to be an enemy convoy in the distance. There was a heavy dust storm raging at the time, and all of a sudden the Hussars found themselves within one hundred yards of the Turkish trenches, front which a heavy lire was directed against them. Colonel Richardson gave the signal to extend and charge. The Turks threw down their rifles, but the cavalry then came under •heavy rifle and machine gun lire from tlio second line of Turkish trenches. We heard the firing—and then the only thing we could see was a line of riderless horses galloping back towards us out of the dust. The 13th Hussars lost three officers and twenty-five other ranks (they had eighty-six casualties altogether!). What stories could be told of Ctesiphon—and of Babylon, with its "hanging gardens," and the'stone lions guarding the sacred way leading to the Temple of Ishtar! And "Tihe Brigadier" has missed it!— L.J.M. J