THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVIII, Issue 158, 6 July 1937, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MEN ABOUT TOWN.)

It would appear that our Dominion is becoming really broadminded. The dreariness of Sunday radio programmes has at last been relieved by a cheering NO TROUBLE Christian broadcast exBREWING. tolling the virtues of a brewery.' Possibly the message wae sent forth to comfort the aleing, but on the other hand, a dissertation on the I subject of beer on a wet Sunday to a dry household ie purely and simply cruelty and would tend to make the Dominion bitter. One would expect a musical finale to an oration like this, such as "My Little Grey Home in the Yeast." However, the novelty of the subject matter would at least justify the Government going the whole hogshead and installing a permanent station to. be known ae OYXXXX.—B.C.H. What gourmands some of us are. I have just heard the tale of a commercial traveller, a trencherman of some note, who appears, this time, to have excelled THE GOURMAND, himself in an all-day gorge-He tells me he only ate a normal breakfast, but lunched sumptuously on the bounty of a man trying to sell him an insurance policy. It was in the evening, however, that the real test came. Apparently he repaired to the bar at 5 p.m., arriving in time to get the full benefit of the counter lunch and the subsequent serving for latecomers. At six, mellowed by several quarte of beer, he and hie employer 'ceased their imbibing and repaired to the office, where they spent half an hour shifting stock abont the storeroom. Then they rang for a table at a city hotel and enjoyed a six-course dinner. Half an hour's smoking end yarn-swapping in the lounge and they returned to work. My informant admit* that he did ehift a few cases, but spent most of the time sampling the contents of some likely-looking boxes scattered about the room. These contained olives, dates, raieine, cheese, Oriental sweetmeats and nuts. Then the boee unearthed a bottle of whitish flnid which he announced wae good to drink. At 9.30 it was decided to call it a day, and the bottle was empty. Both went to the grill room and ate a hearty steak and egge eupper. And when the gourmand reached home he finished off the cold rice pudding.—Albus. Gentlemen, let us talk awhile of the ways of the world and of the old ada<re, near adage, or sentiment, that it is right and proper to pay one's way as one LEST YOU ridee on the tramcar of BE FORGOTTEN, life, either in the seats of the lucky or among the chivalrous but benighted strap-hangers. And a question I would ask of you, gentlemen; ie it so? Thereby hang* a tale. This paragraph purveyor, being of lowly origin (hie family having descended a long way), and of therefore honest habits, ie wont to «echew the temptation of time-payment and of the monthly account. He has dealt with a local haberdasher on a cash basis for some time, and is used therefore to merely customary courtesy. It eo happened that recently he made a somewhat bigger purchase than usual and paid by cheque. It was accepted, at last, after he had furnished addrees and answered all questions satisfactorily—though the article wae not being delivered until the morrow. While his mind admit** the necessity for precaution, hie pride is hurt because, as a cash payer, he is not known. The words of another M.A.T. recur to mind, that to be in debt ie to be among those who are never alone in the world. Though the rest of the world desert you, your creditors will always be by your eide, interested in your health and your prosperity, unremitting in their care. It is a strange world, my gentlemen.—Kea. The chain-letter craze has taken a new lease of life in Auckland; in fact throughout New Zealand. Well, well- Butchers, bakers, yes, even the candlestickEASY MONEY, makers, are daily being intindated with chain letter*. By merely omitting the top name and sending the person sixpence, adding your own name to the bottom of the list—this ie most important—writing out five copies and sending them to your friends, you are told that within three weeks your letter receptacle will be filled to the tune of £78 2/6. This means thnt in three weeks of receipt of a chain letter, and your continuation thereof, you will receive 3125 letters all containing sixpence, we hope. That eounds very simple, even attractive. Unfortunately, ne many have found to their cost, it does not happen like that. While fortune hunters are numerous there, incidentnlly, have been no reporte of the fortunes. It is inevitable thnt a number of people who receive these letters with their tale of inestimable wealth and prosperity prefer to rely on a sounder policy of living by their labours and not lose sight of some of the fruits of their work. Housewives in Taranaki are not altogether unappreciative. however, ae there is a modification of the idea, allowing for the sending of a tea towel or a handkerchief instead of money. The trouble is that one is always liahle to reeeh'e back for Christmas what one sent by virtue of the chain letter. Whatever way you look at it there are always the sceptics who light their fires with the fortune-imparting messages. What then? Pounds, shillings and pence—in other words, the wealth—slips from one's grasp and i>* '"lost."' Rather, I should Ray. it was never within grasping distance. In the days of the depression when the International Prosperity Club was in existence one was doomed to a cruel fate in hell if the appeal of the letter wa« ignored. In those days the recipient was supposed to receive £lftr>! But it was then as it is. to-day. There is that little clause — in type it takes up little room—which spells success or failure to the scheme—if the chain in unbroken.—M.E. The hietory of criminology. T know, doesn't altogether support the theory, but still, it i« a pretty good idea to bury your crimes. Bill supplies the latest inBURIED. stance of where thi« sort of thin* lias proved successful. Hi« wife's pet cream jug disappeared. It wae one of those footling little things that eeem to have been invented especially to please the women and exasperate the men. Bill never could get his fingers securely on to the uncertain little hump on its side" that did duty a* a handle. On a cold Sunday morning the end came. Wifie. still as'.eep. didn't hear the crash, and Bill woke her for the morning cup of tea wearing an expression of Sabbath calm. Later be surveyed the living room hearth. Some of the tiles had cracked, the result of a slisrht subsidence. The man next door -was concreting n path. "T think," remarked Bill. "I'll get a little cement from Jonm and fix that hearth." The idea was given the wifely approbation. Bill got on with the job. Hi*' wife thought he was chipping out far too much of the old hearth, but Bill explained that the new cement needed a good bed to sit in. So the job went on. and while wifey was bu«y in the scullery the remains of the cream jut were brought from Bill's pocket, deposited at the bottom of the excavation and duly covered over with cement. Very carefully " Bill smoothed the surface. It looked quite a good job and Bill felt that, as an amateur, he was entitled to be proud of it. He even took the risk of putting the tiles back before the concrete had set. At lunch time the crockery loss was discovered. Had Bill seen the cream jug? Xo. Bill hadn't—as a matter of fact he had looked for it when he made the morning tea. Wifey searched and searched. It must be somewhere- Sure thing, agreed Bill. Then wifey became suspicious,—searched the dust tin and all the other places where a guilty husband might have hidden the evidences of I his crime. The mystery wae not eolved. And I Bill basks in the kudos that belongs to a I hearth-paving job well done.—B.O'X. ,