THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXX, Issue 16, 20 January 1939, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE *MEN ABOUT TOWN.) MATTERS OF IMPORT. It is reported that during the height of the storm raised by the ban on imports, Mr. Nash was quietly playing ping-pong at the Chateau Tongariro. With addled brain and beating heart The poor importer learns At last that Walter's made a start To check his net returns. —B.C.H. The quiet man in the corner seat of the suburban train was reading his morning paper as usual when suddenly he gasped, "Strangled at birth." This rather KILT. startled the passengers, for he rarely ever speaks, puffs away at his old pi|>e—conies on the train, gets off the train—well, you know the kind of man. So the outburst rather startled the suburbanites, even the card players stopped in their feverish game. For a moment silence reigned supreme, only the turning of railway carriage wheels could be heard. Then ail looked to the corner and 'by one consent asked, ''Well, Edward who's strangled?" "Oh, nothing, just the proposed Kilties, this Government demanding a quid a member to join; the poor Kilties are dead before they live!"— Harry. j The item sent in a few days ago by a reader 111 which he mentioned how, when a lad, he was one of a crowd attending a little hall at the corner of Pitt LOOKING Street and Karangaliape BACKWARDS. Road on Simdav evenings ( and enjoyed himself at a "buckshee" magic lantern show hits me pretty hard. I, too, happened to be a regular patron, and Sunday after Sunday Instilv sang "Shall We Gather At the River/' "Pull for the Shore" and other pathetic little ditties which may still be heard occasionally. It was much more difficult to got into the "show" than to get out. and 1 wouldn't be a bit surprised to know that some of those who heaved themselves into the hall when the door w'as opened were in later days All Black forwards. Maybe those Sunday evening entertainments were instrumental in putting young fellows on the straight and virtuous path. I say maybe, because I don t know. You see. the opportunities to go wrong those days were somewhat limited. Anyone who had robbed an orchard had just about matriculated.—Johnny.

You may or may not be conversant with the following anecdote concerning Dr. Wellington Koo, the prominent Chinese lecturer who spoke in the Auckland NO SAVVY. Town Hall a few years ago. At a diplomatic banquet in the States a talkative American was seated next to Dr. Koo. As the only Chinese with whom the American had hitherto been familiar was his laundry man, he was (for practically the first time in his short but long-winded life) a t a loss for small talk. However, most people in the States have a way of giving things a buck, and this gentleman was no exception. "Likee soupee?" hazarded the gregarious one. Dr. Koo, childlike and bland, smiled politely and nodded. A few seconds later, when asked to "shoot off his mouth." Dr. Koo stood up and made a witty and flawless speech in perfect Enalis.li. At the conclusion of his speech, before the enthusiastic acclamation of the audience had died away. Dr. Koo sat down, and, turning to the astounded American, asked, "Likee speechee ?"•—Uncle Joe. An asticle in the "Star" Week-end Pictorial headed "Dentistry in Xew Zealand," by Francis Brebner, which contrasts the present-day dental surOVERDRAWN. gerv with back blocks niethods in earlier years, must Tiring back memories to many who have now grown accustomed to the chromium-fitted a lid upholstered waiting room and spotless sin gery of to-day. My story is a true one and concerns a child of nine years who lived [ in a farming district almost thirty miles from the nearest township—and dentist. To-day those thirty miles are covered in one hour, or less, by car over a tar-sealed road, but twenty-five years ago the journey would mean a whole day 011 horseback or in a gig over a winding, muddy clay road. As evervoiie knows, a child of nine—even one suffering from toothache—could not be spared for a whole, day to attend the dentist, especially in September, when milking is in full swing, with young calves and other animals to be fed. So. dressed up in oilskin and sou'-wester to keep out the cold and rain, barefooted, the better to wade through puddles and slush, and with half-a-crown in hand, children would be sent down to the creamstand at the gate to intercept the dentist 011 his fortnightly trip through the district to visit a smaller township some fifty miles away. On this particular occasion it was the man with the force)*; and not the roadside patient who was "liberally dosed with the local anaesthetic at the wayside pub,"' and it was not until Miss A ears Old arrived home, bloodstains and tears forgotten, and proudly displaying a tooth which would "never ache again' that a horrified parent discovered the tooth which was exchanged for the halfcrown and carried home in a tightly-clenched fist was a perfectly good molar, while the decayed and aching one still remained in the gum!—Maclyncli.

We met "Stupe" in the model pa at "Whaka"' (which reminds ine, he still owes me the thirteen franc* Angus and I lent him after Passchendaele), and RETURN TICKET, the four of us -went on to '"Hell's Gates,'' Tikitere, where His Satanic Majesty, to boost up local industry, gives an eternal display of 'The Xastiness to Come." Here, yawning black pits toss up thick, black, oily slime from the lietlier world, malevolently spitting and hissing and gurgling and spluttering, and as we look «n the very ground beneath our feet vibrates and our nostrils are assailed with the repulsive odour of sulphuretted hydrogen. The continuous roar of the mighty subterranean forces, and the scenes of horror around us, are almost indescribable. Subtly fascinating, they- hire one to the very brink, only to draw' back, nauseated, terrified. Here, it seems, all hell is trying hard to break loose. The temperatures of these pools are terrific—one false step an< l—"gh! "Feeble," ashen-faced, sticks close to the guide, who, in faultless English, tells us of poor lovely Huritini. Driven to it by the neglect of her warrior husband (at once a reproach and an insult to her own people), Huritini threw herself into one of these horrors. "Taku tiki e tere nei" (Alas, our beloved tiki has floated away, for ever) comes the anguished wail of her people. The name Tikitere lingers on in their legends. Ages ago the Xgati-Rangiteaoreores, led by that intrepid navigator, Tamatekapua. landed at Maketu from legendary Hawaiki. and ever since his descendants have held this place. To-day, Tamatekapua's descendants chow tho round at two bob a head. Dcive -t clouds envelope us as Patrick'* trcmhlinr hand clutches mine—he's had on Mvvi of all this horror, as have we all. At the <-ates a familiar antique car parks and disgorge,; the entire MacPherson clan. They note 'the two lxil. admission fee, and. clambering b.v.k. drive <>iT —as we do, utterly silent and depressed. "Stii|>e" mutters Tennyson's expressive phrase. "Back from the mouth of Hell." Yo. we've a hell of our own. "Support local industry"— and one can get a return ticket.—MaeClure. i