THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIX, Issue 134, 9 June 1938, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MEN ABOUT TOWN.)

An American camp preacher is said to have translated the words of tlie Bible "thev left beating of Paul"' (Acts. xxi.. 32) into the j homelier vernacular "they SLOGANS. quit slugging Paul." This literary curiosity comes to mind ill a vagrant sort of way, in connection with ail inquiry addressed to "Touchstone" on the meaning of the word "slogan." An American named Worcester once explained I that this word was a corruption of "slug | home."' an American equivalent for "home ; | thrust." XeeJlcss to say. Mr. Worcester was Iwide of the mark. Slogan is from the old It.'aelio sluagh (an army) and ghninn (a cull, jyell or shout). In the old days these battle cries were limited to the name of the chief. Scott seems to have revived the word in its wider and more modern meaning in the lines: "To heaven the border slogan rang. St. Mary and the Young Btieclcnch." Xowadays slogans may be anything catchy. At the time of the ■ 1!)2<! *trike in London one of the miners' j leaders invented the rhyming slogan. "Xot a minute on the da}', not a penny off the pay." The favourite slogan of the Labour party in New Zealand seems to l>c "Onward and Upward." varied with "The Sky's the Limit." "CAY." writes: Xoticed in the "Star" that there was another row between Auckland and Wellington. When I was staying at a country hotel down South about THE BEST CITY, two months igo there wis a merry littjc party in the bar one night when the talk turned" to the j question of which was the be-t town in New Zealand. In came a Wellingtonian who | weighed about two stone more than anyone el-e in the room. Everyone shut up except one Auckland fellow by the name of Ted K —.. who started to run down Wellington. One word led to another, t-o the two decided to -ettle the argument outside, but not until the lighter Auckland man had backed himself to the extent of one pound. However, it was all over in twenty seconds. Who won? This should gladden the hearts of Aucklanders. for the lad from the Xorth just walked up to his opponent, threw him with a headlock. grabbed a handful of hair, pulled him to his feet and sent in a couple of elbow jolts in the liest Lofty Blomfield style. I found out later he was a wrestler. I do not come from Auckland. but after this if an Aucklander asks me which is the best city. Auckland or Wellington. I shall definitely say Auckland. These days most old people are regarded as a burden by their children and "in-law*." In the pioneering days the Maori had a severe but certainly very effeeFOUR SCORE. the way of settling this problem. When a wahine or warrior reached the advanced age of seventv or eighty years she (or he) would be put in an isolated old whare and left to die of starvation. Xone of the tril»e would be allowed. c\en if they wished, to visit the whare under any consideration: that would be a breach of the tribal laws. Our home was only a little over a mile from a big pa. My mother used to tell us that often she would sneak into one of these wliares when r-he was going to the township and hand bread ajid other" food to a poor old wahine called Annie who had been thus condemned. Mother said the poor old soul would grab at the bread and cram it into her mouth like an animal. Mother, bowever. was running a bkr ri<-k bv this kindlv action. for even tlie pakeha was not allowed to break these tribal laws. The queer part j of the business was that the one most con- | i-erned (the victim of this brutal treatment) offered no protect whatever, taking it as a | matter of course. A pakeha once repri- 1 tnanded a Maori for this inhuman treatment of his aged parent. "Oh." said Hongi. "you i -ee. him no good, too ol'—him petter komate." —Honi. "Call this a storm?" says Sailor Rill as his roof carried away and the hcavv rain i soaked us through. ' ' Y'ought to have seen j Uri in a typhoon boiin<l TYPHOON. for Penang. three days out from Aiuoy. At noon she ftarted to blow a so we furled the mainsail and double-reefed the topsails. In ! the afternoon the gale increased and the baro- j meter steadily fell, so we furled courses and I topsails. The sea was running fearful, rolling 1 in on both sides. At midnight up comes a j perfect hurricane, and we hove to. A northwest gale was raging, the barometer was down I to 2sin. and before daylight the sea was run- ] iiing mountains high: the topgallant bulwarks I wasiied away, the starboard quarter boat and two of the stern deadlights stove in. and the cabins flooded. At noon the next dav the main trysail and jib split, so we cut 'em awav and later set a reefed fore-ail and close-reefed j tojisail. and put her before the wind. .lust lvefore dark the gale sbiff~ to west and then 1 round to the southward, blowing bin emus, and i the mercury on the run. ,\t midni?ht the bulwarks and bohstav carried awav. so we | cut away tlie mainsail and the fore-topsail to save the mast. At daylight on the secon-1 day the hurricane was «till raginir. and not ' a stitch of canvas could lie raised, and the I siines and truss of 11 ie mainyard were adrift | and dialing the mast. At noon the cabins were knee-deep in water, but at sunset the : clouds broke, the wind lessened, and we tried ' to set the mizzen to keep the ship's head more to the sea. but while we were securing the boom it broke adrift and carried a man overboard. We managed to save him and made fast the mizzensail. At midnight we were =t:II I unable to set any sail, but just before dawn I we managed to get the mizzen set. and at suntup we had the fore and main sails elo-e- ; • reefed and set the reefed foresail. The gale ; I was fa-t abating, but th>* seas were running I high. In the forenoon we were makirg sail ' ] with nil possible speed, but the ma»t< were I j iii danger of going over the -ide on account j jof the heavy rolling of the ship: the fourth , I dav there was a heavy swell, but the wind ! i lulled into a calm. Tf you'd s ecn the wreckage | aboard after four days of it you'd know what | j a storm can do."—MacClure. 1 | j SINGULAR PLURALS. j A recent "M.A.T." par. drew attention to jtlie many oddities <>f the English language in j .'the matter of singlar and plural form-. Our 1 linguistic idiosyncrasies in this re-peel are on • ■of the things that make the language -o very ! difficult for the f >rcigner to master. Here, f>r • (instance, are a few puzzles -ct out by an 1 I English writer: | I | We'll besrin with box. the plural is boxes. | ■ Hut the pi ral of ox is oxen, not oxes. _ j One cooso is a coose. but two are ca'lcd ! ccesc. ; But the plural of moose is never called meese. Voti may find a lone mouse or a whole nest of mice. Hut the plural ~>f house is houses not hiee If the plural of man is alwavs men. ; Whv shouldn't the plural of pan he calle.i j i pen ? If I speak of h foot and vou show me two j feet. I And I trive vou a boot, would a pair be called I licet ? If one tooth is a tooth and a whole set are ■ teeth. Whv slioii'dn't tlie plural of booth be called j beetli? If the singular's this and the plural these { Whv shouldn't the plural of kiss be called ! keese ? I ,W' speak of a brother and also of brethren I I But though we say mother we never sav | methren. Tlie masculine pronouns are he. hip and him. But imagine the feminine—she. shis and I shim! All of which goes to prove that we speak a I very funny tongue. —B.O'X. •