THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIX, Issue 281, 28 November 1938, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE HEN ABOUT TOWU.) LOCUS QUO. The following conversation overheard in a tram is perhaps indicative of the rapid social changes now taking place: "Where are you living now, Bill?" "Xewton." "What part of Xewton?" "The Remuera end." —B.C.H. The hundredth anniversary of the world's j first postal pre-payment ha* cropped ; up. The system was one of Sydney's early : gifts to the world, and MAIL was launched l>y that proCENTENARY. grcs si v e Postmaster- ~ General of early colonial |, days, Mr. James Redmond. Another postal!) j centenary which falls tliis year is that of the j. "greatly improved service" which speeded iip' 4 communication between Sydney and bourne. The memory of the pioneer mailman. ( •Tohn Conway Honrke. was fittingly honoured on Xew Year's Day this year. One hundred > years before that he had set out with his overlanding packhorse mail on a Melbourne-Sydney J journey, which occupied the greater part- of a | month. The "greatly improved service," which I came later in 1838, cut the time to two weeks. I A pretty smart improvement for those times, j .Tolin Batman, hv the way. wa« the first post- ; master at Port I *11 illi t>. He was appointed (or | jdid lie appoint himself?) ill July. ISW. Possibly ■ jmsst of the inward mail which lie handled i was addres.-cd to John Batman. —Johnny. j T'siially. when in-Milting tliiii;>~ are said ; 'tn me about tlic sort of pipe I smoke and the sort of tobacco I smoke in it. the slanderers are cigarette smokers, or SMOKE. non-sinokcrs. Smokers who really are smokers and who stick to the pipe seldom have any complaint to make, though it is a fact that my pi|>es probably remain longer in service than is perhaj« quite consonant with sweet smokiifr. So I was surprised when John had derogatory things to say. We had met outside a city shop, from which he had just emerged, and had stopped to swap a few remarks about nothing in particular. "Good Lord!" said he suddenly. "What on earth are iyou smoking?" I told him. It was the sort lof tobacdb he smoked himself, anyhow, «o I I had him floored there. "Well," he said, I resuming the attack from a new angle, "it j must lie your pipe." I defended my pipe. I iplways do, even if the pipe has reached the j stage where it uses bad language to every - , body within half a block. "But goodness." he ' persisted. "It smells like burnt rag. Can't you smell it?" I couldn't, and said so. And I took mv pipe from my mouth to give emphasis to my denial. And then I did smell it—-burnt, or burning, ra2 without a doubt. But it wasn't my pipe. T hastily explored my pockets, fparfnl of P"din<r the lining of one of tliPm fnirlv But no, everything . was normal. Then John started. All correct, and reassuring till he nut his hand in his hip pocket. He keens his handkerchief there. No sooner had his hand entered than it emerged to the a -•ompaniment of a yelp. Out flew the handkerchief, three expanding holes about the size of half-crowns smouldering merrily. And from the handkerchief there rolled a halfburned. and still burning, cigarette. John doesn't smoke cigarettes. What had happened, evidently, was that somebody in the crowded shop from which he had lately emerged, wishing to get rid of a cigarette, had merely popped it in John's hip pocket without bothering first to extinguish it.—B.O'X. And now a London cousin and his really attractive wife have arrived, and. as usual, this -unfortunate, decrepit, debilitated and im verished wreck had

STILL THEY to meet them. "Bv Jove, COME. you look very ill and have aged shockingly. Why don't you wear a beard as you did formerly, instead of being shaved?" said my cousin on meeting me at the wharf. "Yes, Edward, I haven't done much good in this country, and I don't shave—the wind blows my whiskers away," I replied. "Well, let's have a drink," suggested my cousin, so we went Upstairs, in a well-known hotel. "Mine's a Spine-twister," said my cousin. "I think I'll take a little Midnight Thunder," the lady added. Not to be behind the times, I ordered a Mediterranean Earthquake. The waiter said. "I don't think we serve any drinks like those." I inquired, "How much capital have you?" "I've £2000 and Gwen has £510," he answered. "I suppose you are a motor mechanic?" I ■ inquired. "You're clever, I am. and want to open a garage; how much will it cost?" he • asked. "I advise, put your £2000 in a savings bank and borrow £10 from Owen and start. ' When you 'file,' as most of us do here, you 1 pan state that you had £2000 capital." 'Isn't 1 tlmt cute?" said Edward. "Well, Edward, it's the way tilings, are done to-day. Never trade ' on your own capital." As we left the hotel and walked up Queen Street my cousin's remarked, "Your shop windows are equal to ' Regent Street." Edward went one better and • said, "I consider tliev are as good as the Rue de la Pai.v." Personally wax figures of ladies in very scanty bathing costumes have ceased to interest me. "Your streets are verv clean; ' ha ven't you any poor people?" "Hardly any, ' Edward." I stated. "What a lovely land this | will be for us." enthused my cousin. Later ! in the afternoon I suggested. "How about a ' cup of tea?" "Here, turn it up." said ' Edward. "You surely don't drink tea before five; it's ruinous to the digestion." "In New Zealand we drink tea at seven, nine, eleven, one, three, six and ten usually." I explained. —A.A.P. Tt seems appropriate to introduce the subject of magic just now. Magicians don't fool us because the hand is quicker than the eye; it's our own 'brain FOOLING 'EM. that betrays us. We see what we think we see. Ironically, the more attentively we watch, the more completely we're deceived. And for the most part, this deception is achieved not by swift passes or mechanical apparatus, but by r the shrewd use of psychology. Magic depends I 80 per cent on psychology. 10 per cent on sleight-of-hand, and 10 per cent on apparatus, i It is known that a person with a logical, wellg trained mind will not be suspicious of natural I movements, but will be so intent upon linking J them into a rational chain of events that he • can easily be deceived. Clever magicians make countless uses of misdirection to fool the brain rather than the eye. For example, while the performer is talking he frequently puts both ' hands in his coat pockets. It is a natural ' gesture, and the audience gets so used to it that when the performer takes something from one pocket, nobody pays any attention. If he had put only one hand in his pocket he would have excited suspicion. Similarly, a magician may pick up his wand because lie wishes surreptitiously to lay down something else. By centring your thoughts on an object which is of no consequence he prevents you from observing the key movements that would explain his trick. All magicians agree that highly intelligent persons are the most readily deceived. They try to explain what they see according to their wide knowledge of normal cause and effect. If a sequence of movements I seems logical to them, they farl to observe the deception from which it distracts their attention. Children, lacking adult knowledge and habits of inference, rely on direct observation. Point your finger at something across, the room and an adult looks in the direction you indicate, but a child looks tirst at your finger. That is why a magician, when asking volunteer assistance from the audience, tries to pick a highbrow type rather than the moron who would use his eyes instead of his mind.—Johnny.