SOUND THE TOWN.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 12083, 11 August 1917, Page 8

SOUND THE TOWN.

I am a Snapper up of Unoonsldsretf Triflw. News comes from South. Africa g£ the death' of Zambi, a Zulu chieftain, at the age of 112. Presumably his end was hastened by worrying over the war. V It is rumoured that the Gorernmenfc proposes to reduce the military age to nineteen, and there is opposition brewing already. But it is nothing to the frantic scream that will assault high, heaven if they ever propose to ra!se the age above forty-six. Already the phrase: "If I were only youngei" is falling into desuetude. « » * Amongst the hitherto unpublithed works of the late W. S. Gilbert is the following beautiful poem, which -ia» just been given to a waiting world:— There was a young lady of Malta Who swung up her aunt with a haltar. She said, "I won't bury lier; She shall feed my fox terrier, And she'll keep for a month if I salt her!" When Private Smith went into camp a few weeks ago he was inclined to be critical. When an officer came round find asked if there were any complaint® Smith piped out, "Yes, sir. My tea is always cold." "I don't wonder ati that," said the officer drily, "it has been waiting for you for nearly three years." V Bill, who is a sergeant fighting with the New Zealand forces somewhere i» Flanders, recently led a bombing expedition, and on his return after a very successful outing he was told to writs a report on the operations. Bill's strong point is not English composition, and the report, which is cherished by Bill's 0.0. was as follows:—"We threw bombs into the Creator. We heard groans. We threw more bombs. We, did not hear no more groans. * Our friend tho parson, who went away many moons ago in a khaki uniform to be a chaplain with the forces returned the otlicr day. He tells a good story about one of his experiences with a sentry. He was returning to camp one nig*)t in, England, and met with the usual challenge: "Halt! Who goes there?" "Chaplain," he replied, mildly, as is his wont. " Pass, Charlie, all's well," was the astonishing retort. # * * Our frienct the Mayor of Waltham was very proud of hia election to the high office of chief magistrate of tTTe borough, and he had his Gladstone bag inscribed in big black letters with the legend, "Jolin Smith, Mayor of Waltham." "What will you do with the bag. Jack, if you're not re-elected nexti year? 1 ' asked a ffiend. "Oh, that doesn't worry me a bit," said his Worship; "I'll just have 'Ex' put in before the word ' Mayor.' " V There is a very sarcastic professor at one of the University Colleges—to say which one would be invidious—and hi got off a rather neat one on his claflf the other day. He was lecturing o< history, or it may have been and was winding up a beautiful perora* tion when tho clock struck the conclusion of tho hour allotted to the lecture. Immediately students commenced tc slam notebooks about and stir their feet preparatory to instant departure, ("Wait just a moment, gentlemen," | saiel the sarcastic one. ">I have a more pearls to cast." • * A A communication has reached thli office solemnly setting forth the provisions of a proposed Financial Service Act, under which Financial Reserves are to be set up. The First Division will consist of persons owning £IOO,OOO and upwards, whilo the Second Division will consist of persons owning from £IOOO to £99,999. The reservists are to be galled up by ballot and theii money taken by the State, such reliel to bo given the reservists by way of allowances or pensions as Financial! Service Boards may determine. The proposal has been given space in this column because, there is a suspicion that it contains a joke. Anyway, tho suggestion doesn't concern us, becaure wg couldn't get into Class Z if they classified 'em down to £IOO. There is a further suggestion that [Messrs J. M'Combs, E. Howard and Harold Beauchamp should constitute the First Financial Service Board, but when wa mentioned this to the richest man w« know lie had a fit. t V What seems to be principally needed by the hero in the sensational picture drama is a little common-sense. In a serial film now showing, the hero desires to rescue a girl from the clutches of a gang of criminals. He knows where the gang hangs out. Does ne phone the police, and have them arrested? No. He disguises himself as an ancient seaman, and taliies a. cask of drugged brandy to the villain's lair. The villains drink the brandy and fall senseless. Does tho hero then walk away with the girl? No. He induces ;he girl to creep into tho barrel, and takes her away inside the barrel, on a lorry. When the gang pursues in a motor-ear he lashes up his horses and drives Lka mad until ho reaches a bridge. lie intimidates the bridge-keeper and has the draw lifted just as the car arrives. He then clambers to the stalled car, and throws its occupants, one after ths other, into the river. If he could lick them that easy, why did he run? Ths answer of course is—because the drama has to be run for twelve instalments. # * * Parliament is not coming up to the Tame Poet's expectations this session Hence the following bitter effusion:— ILLUSIONS. We thought we saw our Parliament Make foodstuffs cheap for you and m«; We looked again and saw they meant To put an extra, tax on tea. We thought we saw a, stronger raid Upon the soulless profiteer; VTe 'looked again—his tax is stayed ; J'O.'jtAQ.d they've raised thft toll on b»sc» Wo thought tho maji with huge estate Would have to pay a bigger share; Wo looked again—a lower rate; Tho squatter chuckles in his lair. Wo thought wo eaw a purpose firm To raise tho married Boldiers' pay; But members twist and members squirm. And what they'll do we cannot §ay. Wo thought we saw all party srife Abolished in this time of Btres^« We looked again, and rows were In Parliament and Party Press. We thought a lot of silly thoughts Which to the wealthy gave offence; Of course we're just a row of noughts,. Qur members men of common-seiifc*•