THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIX, Issue 142, 18 June 1938, Page 8

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MEN ABOUT TOWN.)

"Moonlight's" anecdote of Paddy's bedmate gives one. the itch to write ill a somewhat similar vein. J)ne morning in the early days in a certain King THE VICTIM. Country town the local policeman was informed of a farm hand who had left thi* world via a rope attached to a rafter in a.*hed on the ontskirt*. of the town. The policeman set out with his hor*e and trap to tlie scene of tic: tragedy, cut the body down. sati*!ied himself that the man was well and truly dead, put the body in the trap, and started for town. t>n his getting down to open the road gate the horse took flight and bolted, finishing up by smashing the trap against a telegraph post ill the main street and tossing the body oil to the roadwav. Willing hand* carried the supposed victim of an accident into the local pub and endeavoured to revive him with liberal dose* of brandy. When the policeman arrived all hot and bothered the body was sitting up with a dazed look on hi* face wondering whether he was here or there. —Xiera Kerei. "Touchstone"' write*: Two old English name* in frequent use in Xcw Zealand are stumbling blocks to many per*oiis. C-oleridge is one and Kollestoii anOLD ENGLISH other. They should be NAMES, pronounced Col-ridge and Kolls-t'n, with the "o" *ound of coal. These words are not in the categorv of freakish Engli*h names of foreign origin, whose ridiculous corruption i* a strange source of pride to snolis. Sometimes their mi*jiroiuirifiation (a. radio announcer has referred to Lake ( <d la rid ire i may be a reaction against affected pronunciation. Many sycophants try to improve on plain-sounding proper name*, much to the disgu.-t of their owner*. "Touchstone" know* a man named Shier, who call* himself Shv-cr, but everybody seems intent on calling him Shee-er. Another gentleman who carries the old English name of Gobbe has uiveil up hoping that jieople will rhyme it with "lobby." and ha* resigned himself to (Jodie, with'the long "o." Samuel Taylor Coleridge, the English poet and philosopher and author of "The Ancient Mariner." called himself "Coal-ridge." One of his kinsmen, the Hon. Stephen Voleridge, in his "letters to My Grandson on the Glories of English Prose," in which he pluck* "only a sin .de flower here and there from the mo*t wonderful garden in the world." says: "There is nothing so Tulgar as the ignorant use of your own language. HV-M'V Englishman should show that, he respects and honours the glorious language of his country and w ill not willingly degrade it with his own pen or tongue." Isn't it pleasant, these winter dayr,. to think of the warm, sunny beaches and bright blue waves of summer; of sunbathing, swimming and s n n b a t li i n g 'WARE SHARK! a'jrain? But perhaps you would not so complacently I recall midsummer memories if you knew what awful peril besets tlie bather who goes svvimlming in the Ha iraki Gulf, outside the protection of a shark-proof fence. None of u* [knew al>out it until one of the lads returned the other dav from the South Island, full of good yarns, of which this, which he solemnly i-wear* i* "the truth, the whole truth and nothing but." is one of the l>e*t. At a small social gathering he fell into conversation with a high official of one of the most important [local bodies in the South Island, and the talk turned on a tragedy at one of the local ocean I beaches, w here several lives have been lost in the heavy surf and strong undertow. "But even so. we are better off than the peo'ple in J Auckland." answered the South Islander, who thought lie was talking to another native of 'those parts. "Oh. ve*." he continued, "at any of the Auckland beaches you dare not swim outside the sharkproof fence without danger of being snapped up. All the popular beaches have to be protected by shark fences, and you are not allowed into tlie water at any l>cach where there isn't one. 'How long have they had 'em':" asked hi* vis-a-vis. a bit dubiously. "Oh. always." lie was confidently informed. "(Mi. no. They can't have had them very long, I'm sure." the visitor a**crted. "because they did not ha\e them when I left there a fortnight a_'o." —I.M.

As Bendipo. champion of England at t wenty-cipht. out of the linp we push through the moli and rejoin Father Time, who await* lis, scythe in one BENDIGO PASSES, hand and hour-glass in the other. "Let's pet l>ack to Auckland." we say. sick in the stomach at the hlood lust of the mob. "Auckland? There's no istich [dace —yet.'' he answers. '"Come, the (cntmy is young. Tt's only and linking our arms in his;, we soar aloft and glide down into Oxfordshire. "That took us six years." lie said, looking at his hour-glass. "It's now September. lS4."i. and the mob before you are waitinp to see Bendipo beat lien Oaiint. the man who calls himself champion on account of Bendigo's accident having prevented him fron. fighting this six years past. Catint defeated Xick Ward in IR-JO, and as Kick defeated Jem Burke the previous year he ha** a sort of right to the title. Tyook. they're at it!" Round by round ive watched the fight for two hours and ten minutes. and i'; the ninety-third round saw Bendipo win. Amid the cheers, hoots, groan* and hisses of the mob we set off for Mildenhall. "And now it is June •">, 1850.'' says l'ather Time. "To-day Bendigo fiphts his last, fight and retires. He's forty this year, and Tom Paddoek is twenty-six. There they po." The referee stops the fight and makes Paddock wash the turps and resin from his hands. Bendipo won the toss, tint chose to face the sun. The young 'un has forced Bendy over the ropes —this is the forty-ninth round —and look! Twice he hits Bendy as he falls to the pround —two fearful blows on the head. The referee sto|is the tight ami acclaims Bendy the winner. Paddock has run amok, and as Bendy rises to liis feet, hands at his sides, l'addock era-die* him with two brutal blows in the face, and Bendv falls at tht referee's feet. We turn away in dispust: the mob are tnkinp charpe— they've pot the referee—bash! He went down like a lop. hit over the head with a blud'reon. It's a shambles—quick, this way—and we're off. leaving the mob to fipht it out for themselves. And now--Xottinpbam. Thirty years in the air. How's that for a record? It's August. ]SSO. T et's call on Bendipo. He's seventy, and dying— fell down the stairs and fractured a rib and a splinter of bone entered a lung. Silently we creep up the stairs-—but we're too late. A helv innn. collar twisted back to front, explain*. "'Our beloved brother. Mr. Thomjison. died fi-jhtinp Satan, and won the fiplit." The prize rim: U dyinp. too —but Time fliiv; on. taking u* with him. ears pass by—fifty-five of them and -"Anf wicder*ehn." Father Time calls to us as we ali'.'ht. "I !' be secinp von." and lies (iff a -r aiii.— Mac^*lnre.

BUDGETARY BALLAD. Oil. Mr. lli-jfh Fin.iP'-it"- Nash. How clf.vr rlv vmi fount the 0.-i-h: How hrilliantlv von do vmir sums. How quick. how slick. t'm answer rnmfs. Millions hv millions mult inli'd. Phis millions more nnl then divide. The ripswer is—how on this ho?— The same old catch —minus to mo. Oh. Mr. Monoi'-snin'-.iiiL' Xasli. I'd hnrd'v dniv to 0.-Hl vou ras'i. You're so mnoh olovovor than T Pcrli.'i'i? vou'll doici to *-->11 mo why— If 'wo and two s'i'l total font I still Inyo 'os« nti'l \''ni havo more. I fool—thouerh I'm a rimnlo cuss— Minus should T < vo>- r.ninl i.'us. Oh. oV'vor. ff.ninrinur Mr N'usli. I'm sure vou'd never oonio n crash; ■\Vith suoh rc-rsu".sive pnternrNe r fhe revomio jc; hound to riso. Is it n trick or is it oh.nnoe. <>r iust th>. ijci-u 5 of finance. That thourh your figures jirovo mo rich In point of fact I'm in the ditch? 'Tis errand! St iitistioallv wo Are rill as woa'thv as oan bo. Millions are mino to share—hut still My assets are exactly nil. 1 —SIMPLK SIMON.