PASSING SHOW

Gisborne Times, Volume L, Issue 5150, 16 April 1919, Page 2

PASSING SHOW

(By “Onlooker.”) Mr. Lysnar anti Mothors-in-Law,

Perhaps the most touching incident of the just concluded licensing campaign wa s Mr W. D. Lysnar’s stout defence of all mothers-in-law. It was the Rev. Mr Gray who was responsible for the whole business l , for had he not suggested thiat “Pros” were bent on burying the “Trade” in the way that an irate son-in-law had expressed a wish should befal an ■allegedly impossible lady,. who happened to be liis wife’s mother? Mr, Lysnar must have learnt what many another man has found_ to his cost, that it matters not tliat many ladies fulfil the interesting role of mother-in-law with success an audience is not likely to be. unanimous on the point that all mothers-in-law are such angels that nobodv should be permitted to have a little joke at their expense generally. One could only pity Mr Lysnar when ho pleaded in very annoyed tones that every moth-er-in-law in his audience should remember on polling day. that the head of the Prohibition party had gone out of his way to place on record again such an unworthy joke against mothers-in-law. What a shame —the more Mr Lysnar defended the mother-in-law class the more his audience became convulsed''with laughter. Poor Mr Lysnar could afford to spar© some of his goodness of heart for a reasonably large quantum of the sense of humor.

“Drink to Me only with Thine Eyes!’ Drink to me only thine eye*, And I will toaßt with mine; For all the land is dry as dust, And we oan’t ask for wine. Don’t leave a Mss within the ©up, A Mss intoxicates. Inebriation is a crime In these United States. Drink to me only with thine eyes, And don’t use them too much, Or you would make me drunk with ■bliss, And I would know the clutch Of legal hands upon my sleeve And languish in a cell, Because I drank your loving glano© Not wisely but too well.

Drink to mo only with thine eyes, And do that on the sly. Let those who guard our morals note You have a liquid eye. Let not your smile he one to mete My spirit rise at all. For those who make the laws might think That spirit Alcohol! Berton Braley. in American Life. The Moa Story. The Moa story may now be regarded as dead, though it had an extremely interesting, if only a very short, life. It will be remembered that it was conceived in the fertile imagination of one Ivan Levy who, when “Onlooker” knew him, provided a Wellington newspaper with shipping pars and stage gossip. Yes; Ivan Levy is really possessed of more than the average amount of humor of his race, and his rich store of interesting yar:n s makes him very congenial company. Lately he has blossomed forth as a writer of short stories of fair merit. His tale about the suppose! Moa, which he alleged attacked him “somewhere —at tile' back of Ngatapa,” seems to have “taken in” a lot"of people in this district. Why it is impossible to. say, seeing that it was so well stretched, as to be awfully clumsy. The “take in” was achieved by means which were hardly fair to the reading public. body could, of course, take exception to the suggestion that the alleged “find” had been the subject of discussion by a society which, by the way, does not exist; but it is questionable whether it was proper to infer in the first instalment of the yarn that Cabinet had discussed the “discovery” and had interested itself in, the matter The newspaper in which the yarn was published musthave accepted it as a story but. somehow or other, it contrived to give it more the appearance of news than that of fiction. Anyhow it afforded an opportunity for Mr Lysnar and others to interest the public with their views on the question as to whether it is -likely that even to-day feathered giants roam about in those parts of the Dominion that are not as yet accessible.

Diggers’ Rubaiyat. The Rubailat of a Digger gives a nice little picture of army life: Dozing- while stable-time was drawing nigh, I heard a voioe within the dug-out cry ’ -n “Up, Digger, up, the sergeant s coming round — To dodge an extra guard you’ll have to fly.”

And after “stables” one who stood before The canteen murmured “Wilt thou -shout one more?’’ The other answered, “Oan’t, I’JS B*i® to-day, My pay was stopped to help to win. the war.”

“How isweet the issue rum!” think some; Others, “How great the Blighty leave to cornel” . Ah, seize each present joy and blow the rest With too long waiting our desires 1 grow numb.

Oh, leave the Heads to -wrangle and to roar And fly with me to madame’s open door; . There, ’twixt red wine and Babette’s dancing eyes, Forget we are the helpless tools of war.

Here and There. The following telegram of congratulation has been sent by the Dover and East Kent Scottish Society to Field-Marshal Sir Douglas Haig:— Welcome frao Flanders. We ken while we cheer, If ye hadna been there Well —we wadna be here. By order of the War Office a ship wholly laden with sand was sent out during the war to Egypt I The sand x wa& there put into bags for trenches, imagine the disgust of the men told to nnload itl

Private Stanley F. Woodbnrn, Liverpool Regiment, killed in France, made the following will on a field servie form about the size of a postbelongings I leave to my next of Vin; My purse is empty, there’s nothing

in, My uniform, rifle, my pack and Mt I leave to the next poor devil ’twpl fit: . • But if this war I manage to clear I’ll keep.it myself for a souvenir.

After twelve months’ _ captivity a returned repatriated prisoner saw a party of German prisoners working in a field in his native village of Hayes 1 , Middlesex. Across the hedge the following dialogue took place: Tommy: Deutschalnd nar-poo now, Fritz, en?> * Frit*: Na-poo. Tommy: You want go back there, ««Kpoo, eh? Frit*: Na*poo. Tommy (in plain English): No. you blighter; von get plenty of food nor©, you - wouldn’t out there, and you know it. tool - ,