THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVII, Issue 186, 7 August 1936, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MAN ABOUT TOWN.)

Dear M.A.T., —Your recent paragraph "Connoisseurs" suggest# to me that the following may not be amiss:. I was dining in a ° well-known city restauTWO DINERS, rant recently and observed with interest the entrance of a young lady accompanied by a brown and white dot? of the sporting species. She was a very beautifully dressed young lady and she entered with the utmost nonchalance. Seating herself at the table next to mine, she ordered'coffee and a grill. When these arrived she fed the gHll piece by piece to the dog, which sat up expectantly, and, I am forced to admit, ate with great delicacy. When the doc* finally ate bread and butter, the young lady sipped her coffee, then, adjusting her fox' fur, and followed by her dog, paid her bill and departed as casually as she had entered. —Observer.

The fact that our old friends the shearers —those essential and queruious people are to get .more cash for their job will remind many people that from time to COPPERTOP'S time in our history WINDOW, shearers have been responsible for many headaches. One has personal memory of the redheaded shearer who, unlike most of his mates, was a fresh-air fiend. Most out-of-door workers regard night air as poison and love to frowse in dark huts with the window (if any) tight shut and the door closed. Well, this ,e ''" headed chap agitated so successfully that the boss, much impressed and desiring above all to keep the shearers sweet, agreed to have a window about the «iize of the end of a church inserted at' "the end of the hut. It was ordered from the city—a stupendous affair costing a king's ransom and brought to the station with infinite care per train and per lorry. It was deposited against the end of the hut, and "Coppertop" the agitator rejoiced greatly at the promise of light a-nd air. His mates discussed this hygienic contrivance with heat and acrimony—but permitted it to bo installed. It remained installed for nearly a week, and then, the general agreement was that there was so much ruddy air and so much blinking light that it wouldn t do. They ordered the boss to take it out. Taken out it was, and the hole filled up with the old boards. It is out yet. And "Coppertop"—where is he # ?

Yoti will have observed that the slits, slots or apertures for the posting of letters or other matter at the top of the steps of the C.P.O. (City) are of HER BOUDOIR, generous size and are set in large plates of beautiful brass, burnished like mirrors and a credit to the polishers. The slot, slit or mouth of the receptacle for letters to be delivered within New Zealand is large enough to give space for six citizens posting simultaneously. It would in the momentary* absence of posters accommodate from three to nine ladies anxious about their complexions. One has observed the phenomenon for the first time of a young lady amidst the posters, dodging from side to side using this exceedingly handy inirror, which so romantically recalls the brass mirrors of ancient Greece or the burnished bronze reflectors of Pompeii. Undeterred by the passage, of feet and the slither of the morning letters as they were thrust in the glittering aperture, the youijg lady with the opened vanity bag not only powdered her nose (a very 'nice little nose, too) but did wonders with a rouge pad, an eyebrow pencil and a lipstick. So' natural a thing did it seem to the people who posted letters that several politely waited With unposted missives while mademoiselle completed her toilette,, Having made a chromatic- masterpiece of an'excellent bit of lady posted her own tetter, smilingly tripped dowii the steps', and went to work. ...

A magistrate has sent "the best-drensed destitute lie 'has ever seen" to gaol for a month, which may stress the truth that you can't gauge a nut by Its THE MOULD shell, or a house bv its OF FASHION. coat (of paint). A poor

man should nat dress ill, but a rich man may do as he likes. A great British nobleman was so badly dressed although he was Sinfully rich that when he dropped gold in a church offertory he was detained in order to ascertain where he had pinched this wealth. But the best clothes story one knows is true. Quite a wealthy business man, twitted by his wife for his ehabbiness (which nobody else bothered about because he was such a decent cove), was dragoobed into going to a fashionable tailor in a city John Guthrie so unnecessarily calls "Wellingford." The chief, Stultz, was at the moment engaged ill his little measuring den with a dressy young man, and the shy merchant in the awful clothes sat down and waited patiently, fidgeting uncomfortably, wondering if the tailor would notice the hole in his shirt when he took his coat off. The great tailor took no notice of the shabby commercial giant outside the den, but when raucous sounds proceeded from, the overhead workrooms (the hands were having a bit of a joke about something) the great tailor went to the foot of the stairs and shouted sharply, "Leas noise up theah—LESS XOISE! Don't you know Mr. Arthur' Odds is heah being fitted?" Mr. Odds was a well-known bookmaker—lie had to dress well—or at least expensively.

A Melbourne'nib searching for a man he wanted in a large commercial buildinr came to a steel door marked "Emergency Only" and looked in. Among the RELAXATION, ventilators and lift hatches oil the leads four important heads of big businesses lay stretched on mats. They were clad in shorts and singlets, and, pedalling their feet in the air and breathing deeply, they were taking their luncheon-time exercise. Their bowler hats, umbrellas, sticks, o'vercoats and so on were stacked close by. These executive gentlemen were exceedingly solemn and were determined to recapture tile first fine raptures of youth. The scribe closed the door quietly and went below. He mentioned the matter to a lift girl. "Oh, them!" she said. "I bet you they don't keep it up." Reminded olie of the business man who lias been in the habit of taking a cut-and-dried holiday every year at the identical period—same place, same boardinihouse, same trips, same tucker, same everything. He got peeved. There came a sunny spell when he told all liis pals that he Was going for a perfectly new holiday—a secret. Xo, he would not tell them where. The only person he seemed to consult with before he left was tilt .janitor of the building he belonged to (or which belonged to him). He was away for three weeks, returned bronzed and fit and' well. His friends congratulated him on his appearance. Where had he been? "Oil," said he "I've been camping 011 the roof of the warehouse, .sitting in the sun all day—corker I Jim the janitor has been bringing nle nly kai and papers and hooks—my word 'The Little Country' is a hummer yarn!"

THOUGHTS FOR TO-DAY, Setter be foolish with all than wise by yourself—George Herbert. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners.'—Shakespeare. The best lubricant f o v the wheels of lif« is a combination of kindnecs, love, humour and imagination.—Anon.