THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 260, 2 November 1935, Page 8

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MAN ABOUT TOWN.) Dear MAT.,- Apropos "Thrift Day" in the schools, I send you'an essay written by a seven-year-old lad—despite a relevant introductory talk by the THE NEW teacher. "Thousands of PHILOSOPHY, years ago there lived a wise old man who was very rich and had plenty of money. He had a very good time. I think that he was very foolish to put it in the bank, because when he died all his money would be wasted. Is this '-Earthquake Philosophy/' or merely indicative of the young idea? With cordial good wishes to you and your column,— Wondering.

Granny is partial to peppermints. She carries a supply. Her small granddaughter, aged three years, is partial to lollies, too, and granny gave her a pepperTHE CHILD MIND. mint. The wee one scrunched it gladly, "made a wry face."' spat it out. "Too hot!" she said, and looked rather disappointed. Granny conferred pennies on the wee one, and a small friend, advising them to proceed to the shop and to buy the kind of peppermints they preferred. Ther returned, munching without pain. '•What did you ask for?" said granny. "Oh, I asked'the man for a pen'orth of cold peppermints," said the wise child.

There are, as the seer said, more ways of killing a cat than by choking it with butter. There are also more ways of writing a newspaper "leader" or ediWORLD POLITICS, torial than you are aware of—and Los Angeles has one of them. Now if you were writing a leader on taxation you'd probably garner all available facts, figures and opinions, shake back your locks, and tell the world in anything "from- a hand's breadth to a column and a half, feeling that there was still much left to tell. Here is the Los Angeles leading article: "Or What-Have-You ?—Armstrong County, South Dakota, has for population only two families. But they have been thoroughly discovered by the census-taker, the taxgatherer, the" plough-underers, the hog assassins, State land assessors, price-fixers and the rest of the Raw Deal What-Have-Yous. In fact, every encouragement will be given these two families to render unto Caesar all they've got."

It seems a pity to have a column without its Ab-It par. About the only way you can escape being a soldier in Abyssinia is to be a clergyman, so there are THIRTY DAYS' very fes clergymen left, RATIONS, for," like fheir white clerical brothers, they condemn war—and go to it. The Abs have what is really a territorial system. The King calls on the chiefs to raise and arm men, and he raises them —and they raise hell if necessary. There are fewer than half a million of these .irregulars, but of course the rest of the boys join up for the pants, the puttees and the fighting. One queer idea is that every man is expected to supply his own rations —when he enlists he takes thirty days' tucker with him—and it isn't frozen. After the twentieth day white instructors move to windward. Wicked old Menelik at Adowa nearly failed j because the rations failed. They ate their mules. Ever eat a mule? N"asty, tough, dark meat. Makes soup just like cheap glue. When this Ab-It unpleasantness was billed the proudest possession of the Abseses was a small I tank, presented to them by the Italians. They arc not a bit proud of it now—and very likely have lost the oil can or the spanner. The Ab is so slick on his bare feet that he covers at least two and a half times the ground the European infantryman covers in the same | period. He goes at a jog trot, and having no boots to get that split-peas sensation with, he ends the day without bunions. The white soldier soaps his socks. Soap seems silly to the Ethiop, for you can't eat it. Dear M.A.T.,—Being a Wellingtonian by birth and upbringing, and baving lived in Auckland for the" past thirteen years, it is amusing to read the exagCOMPARISONS. gerated. imaginings of the M.A.T. in reference to Poneke's health-giving winds. Some Aucklanders who have never put foot out of the so wonderful, simply marvellous, most beautiful, etc. city really" believe it. I had a new hat blown "off my" head in Auckland and I never set eyes on it again. I never yet lost a hat in Wellington or had one blown off. I I noticed the Duke of Gloucester hanging on for grim death to his hat when going across Grafton Bridge. This morning (Wednesday) when my house shook to the foundations in the gale and the sea was in a most a-igry mood at-full tide, imagine my* surprise to read in the evening's "Star" that the Government observer puts in his weather report, at 9 a.m. that morning "slight breeze." What is an Auckland hurricane like? Could you please tell me if the Albert Park observatory is glassed in, or what makes the reports so absolutely inaccurate? If it were on or near the Tam'aki Drive we would get the genuine weather reports for Auckland. The observatory in Wellington stands in Kelburn, high above the city and open to all the winds that blow, but here it is hidden away beneath Syrnonds Street and surrounded by high trees and the University building, so gets no proper record. None whatever of the prevailing es.iterlies. gales that arc ev&ry bit as high as Wellington's "southerly busters." —Windy Auckland.

You are invited to observe a. sartorial seasonal change. The local constabulary (and, one presumes, their comrades) have assumed white helmets, although 'WARE THE SUN! one saw quite a nice sergeant in Queen Street still in blue helmet and therefore risking the unofficial sunstroke, which doesn't seem to care a bit. White, as a brow cover, is fresh and clean and nice, although why it became the vogue as a sun shade is not known, as the All Wise painted the Ethiop (who is more sunswept than anyone) quite black. But the quaint thing about this seasonal official police move is that nobody fpllows suit. Humanity, outside the protected brows of the police, is bare of pith helmet, topee or any other sunscorner. The banker proceeds to his lair hatted in a Homburg. in some cases complete with the little feather that proclaims the sportsman, and all other men go to their dailv dens either with unchanged fSlt hats of the regulation shape—or without hats at all— quite a rare thing, however, among the cognoscenti, who arc almost old enough'to become political caru«dates. It is right" and proper that the police should be preserved from sunburn, sunstroke or other meteorological dangers, but in the absence of a Government ukase insisting on universal wearing on due date of white headgear, one merely beseeches wearers of felt hats to be careful. Among the myriad citizens one has seen this day only one wore a white cap in deference to the summer—and he was a black boy from a steamer —and the baldest man with' a dear old head like a speckled brown hen's egg went bareheaded.

. ' THOUGHTS FOR TO-DAY. To everything there is a season, and a i time to every purpose under the heaven: a time to be born and a time to die.—Ecelesiastes. \ j If the fool would persist in his follv he : would become wise.—Blake. Unless we are saints on earth we shall . never be saints in heaven.—Matthew Henry. I Xone can cure their harms by wailing j them.—Shakespeare.