THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIX, Issue 266, 10 November 1938, Page 10

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MEN ABOUT TOWN.)

Rummaging round tlie old Sierra Mountain gold camp locale of the Poker l-'lat. Whiskey Slide and HMifjtown sectors in t'alifoniia. for atmosphere for GOOD OLD DAYS, a recent Western film. Holly \vo(hl scouts came across an armful of weather-beaten. crudelylettered signs from the okl sawdust-on-thc-floors saloons of tlie lS.'iO's. They had been reporting 1 in dark, spider-threaded attics, and tlieir surfaces were covered with dust of the 'iipes. They could still be read, however, and these are the legends some of them bore: "This saloon is law-abiding. Figlitin discouraged. If Shootin is done, please resteer the art work." And. bv way of being helpful to those less gifted than the bartender there was a sign: "Letters wrote here. Cirrect and Legible. Condolences. 1 dollar. Busness, dollars. Pi>ssinal and Love, 10 dollars and upward."—Tiny.

"Will 'Touchstone' favour me," writes a correspondent, "with an estimate of the height of a 'mountain of horseflesh,' which I heard of in a description of a HYPERBOLE. field of horse* at the

starting barrier this week." The Spaniards have a liabit of referring to an exceptionally big bull as a "Cathedral," and this is, properly speaking, a metaphor. The announcer, or reporter, who thought of a mountain of horseflesh was

;:dventuring into the field of hyperbole. This has l>een defined as the use of exaggerate! terms for the sake not of deception but of emphasis. "A thousand a|>ologies" is hyperbole. An older instance was provided years ago by the boy who told his mother there were "a million cats" on the back fence, but reduced the number finally to "our cat and another." The "mountain of horseflesh"' might be called metaphor, but it is clumsy, to sav the least. The term would be safer if applied to one horse.—Touchstone.

His cheerful countenance, usually so bright and animated, v'ore an expression of deep gloom. It was, in fact, livid with agony, as

though the soul-searing THE TRAGEDY, experience he had gone

through had been almost beyond his power to lx>ar. His pyp- wcro dull and heavy, and all hope to have fled, leaving liim a derelict upon u storm-tossed sea. Pictures of dire disaster floated before my eves a * I wondered what had cast him into the dreadful depths in which lie had l>e»n almost overwhelmed. '"I'm sunk." lie groaned. "I missed my nomination for the Summer Cup: forgot all about it until I saw the name* up." Perhaps a late nomination might be accepted. I suggested, thinking it would be hard luck if such a keen sport should lose the chance of lifting a "couple of thou." because of a palpable oversight. "Too late." he moaned, "the draw is out!" '"Draw is out?" I echoed. "What tlie deuce has a draw got to do with nominations or weights for the Summer Cup?" "Weights be blowed." he raved. "I'm not talking about the A.R.C. Summer Cup. It's the Auckland Chess Club's Summer Cup I wanted to nominate for." —S.T.

With Christmas within spending distance many of the shops are displaying the usual range of toys which the shopkeepers sincerely liO|ve will find their way CHRISTMAS. into stockiiiTs and pillow slips on Christmas Eve. The toys manufactured to-day are miles ahead of those turned out when the writer was a wee chap and reaped a heap of fun out of a pop-gnu—a little wooden affair with a cork and piece of string attached. Marbles, tin bugles and small drums were very fashionable, and in the days I refer to Santa Claus could make himself very popular with the kiddies at an outlay of a "coupler bob." In case you might think a "coupler bob" is some sort of soldering gadget used by plumbers, I might mention for the benefit of those who may not have heard the term that it means two shillings. A»florin wouldn't be much use to Santa Claus nowadays, because the "young fellow me lads" expect bicycles, cricket or tennis sets, miniature motor cars, and the like. But you will notice that in most cases a one and sixpenny tie is still considered a sufficient Christmas box for dad.—Johnii",

Mention of Christ ma* tors for tlie ki<l<lies reminds one that in the West End of London is a little shop which looks like a museum. Two kettledrums used in THE DRUM. Elizabeth's reign are there, and a side-drum played by London's Trained Bands in 1000. Serpents ami queer bassoons hang on the wall*. In glass cases are the brilliantlv painted drums of regiments in England. India. Africa. Drum-Major Sampel Potter, of the ( oldstream Guards—whose ancestors had been flute makers since li<4—— retired on pension and started the business of making instruments and accessories for the Army in ]SlO. and Potters have pone on makiuT them ever since. The bugle that blew at Isandlana when the 24th Regiment of Foot was wiped out. the drums that beat at Waterloo, the silver ti umpets that sounded at Delhi Durbar were made there. Mr. G. J. R. Potter, greatgrandson of Samuel, runs the business now. The drum is as old as war. There are records that the Egyptians used them in IGOO B.C. The Chinese did. The Crusaders are supposed to have brought them to England, and the first record of a drum being beaten on English soil was at the battle of Halidon Hill in 1333. —Jolinnv.

From the point of the very best journalism this story should never really be written, because it proposes to tell of "what might have been a serious acciA FOWL" PLOT, dent"—that introduction to the storv which makes the sub-editor writhe. However, let its excuse . tliat 11 concerns Guy Fawkes. The scene «* a neat little suburban back garden facinf, tho ''arbour. All the lesser crackers, the P , tho .l" n, P ln g tilings, the throw-downs have been and have gone. The time has come foi the finals, the grand climax to a ni«ht of great things, that breathless moment when he great skyrocket must be sent half wav to Mars. It stands some five feet from tlve ground, and it is treated with a mixture of dlgnitj , net \ ousness. loving care and trepidation A hole is dug; the butt is held fast. Protruding from the end is a long wick. Father lights a match and applies same to the wick rhere is a sizzling sound, and then eves strav from the wick to the long reaches"out over the harbour, where in a minute stars will burnt, little balloons of five will fall, and Guv I if, Will ~ot haVe lived and <lie<l in vain. I l e little group wait; the wick splutters and splutters. The tenseness grows. And sud- ' denly there is an explosive hiss—and then an almiglit crash from further alonir the backyard. The crash is followed bv the sound of fowls in terror; and the man of the house strong man though he is, pales visiblv. But all was well. The giant rocket in the effort' of leaving the ground for Mars has overturned I the butt in the ground; and instead of a sight of beauty out over the harbour, the rocket has shot itself sidewavs, and has sikh! like a homing bird, straight and trulv into • the middle of the henhouse—hence tne' i-in ; both of the noise that night and . ;~ lv Fawkes' "fowl'' plot.—Jonah. IPS « is ; a true story.—J.) 10