BY THE WAY.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 17879, 22 June 1926, Page 7

BY THE WAY.

SOME REFLECTIONS AND COLLECTIONS. (By One of the Boys.) Joseph the Joker The laughter provoker It is improper I suggest To make of the Speaker a jest. The Germans try, sir. To get rid of the Kaiser. They’ll never end ’m With a referendum. When it’s raining in England, And it usually is, The cricket is abandoned. Aussies think it rotten biz. For they win with great smashes. On wet or dry wicket, Unlimited cricket, The Ashes. “Observer” does complain In its somewhat solid way That it's not so much the rain But how much the people pay. That the Aussies want, he prates. He can pick it, Commercialised cricket— Big gates. ♦v »*» •*» That article on Riccarton was a good one. The writer, however, forgot to mention the new lamp post put up in 1921, and that the old council horse has been shod again this y'ear. What play of Shapeskeare's do the cricket cablegrams remind me of? For the benefit of those who have not been to school lately I may mention that Shakespeare wrote among others, Macbeth, Hamlet, and Much Ado About. Nothing. Jf two or more people pick the right one, the prize will be held over. The car swung round, the corner: the woman hesitated and then jumped. It was too late and she was bowled over on the road. The car pulled up, and the husband came running up, just as the woman rose out of the dust. “It will cost you fiftv quid,” the husband said to the motorist. “ But, she looks unhurt,” the carowner protested.

The husband regarded her. “ Tell you what,” he said. “ Give me fifri* quid and you can have another go at her.”

Pavlova's hobby is sculpture, and I would not be surprised if it became fashionable in Christchurch, and replaces poker work and sealing waxing. It's the simplicity of sculpturing that is its attraction. All that is necessary is a block_of marble and a mallet and chisel. You then put the block of marble on a table and knock off the parts you don't want.

The open golf championship starts in England to-morrow, and as the news comes hot over the cables there will be thousands of people who do not understand what it is about. Such a simple statement as: Kirkwood 2 up and 1. will leave them unmoved. Tell them Kirkwood is an Australian, and the3*’ll think “ 2 up ” refers to “ two up,” which is absurd. Names like Mitchell and Hagen; names not uttered lightly by golfers, mean nothing to quite a lot of our people, while words like stymied, dorrny, niblick, etc., are completely unknown. For this reason I will explain the game. It is played by' two or four people who walk round the or*en country driving a ball before them and saying, “Did you ever see such luck? Thunder and lightning! Look at that now! Jumping Jiggedy Judkins! ! Where did that one go?” The glory of the game is that each one keeps his own score. I played for a year, and though I tried to be pleasant: though I swore as fluently' as they did, yet I was shunned. No one would play' with me. Somehow it got about that I did not enter into the spirit of the game. And . then one da} r I broke through the barrier. I was playing with a man who off the links was a friend, but on them he avoided me. This day I was the only one about and we went out together. He was beating me badly*, and when I asked *' How many?” he would answer “ Six ” to iny r eight or nine. And then one hole I watched him closely. He took eight and so did I. “What did you do it in?” I asked. “Five. What did you?” Four,” I lied.

I noticed the pleased look in his eyes, and at the next hole I again kept count. He took nine to my' eight. “ How man?’’ I aSked after we holed Out.

“No!” he said, “it’s you to say first this time.” “ Five.” “ Four.”

We shook hands, and many's the round together we had after, and often we returned with eighties and a seventy-eight, and a seventy-nine, were not unknpwn.

Yes, it is a great game. The royal and ancient game of golf. As old as the first liar. He invented it.

Most people's idea of a college man is a fellow who can take two steps before his trousers move.

“ I just came from Jack’s funeral.” “Is he dead?” “ Well, if he isn’t thev certainly played a dirty trick on him.”

One “ guest " night at a certain club several of the more hard-boiled members started telling yams of their experiences Abroad. The more convivial the evening became, the taller became the tales. At length one of the shocked visitors—a naval man—was asked to tell h tale. He related how, in the Indian Ocean, a typhoon had risen and swept everyone off the deck of his destroyer except, six survivors. Then he gave a thrilling description of the tremendous tidal-wave that completed the catastrophe and bore away the gallant six. After a tense silence one of the listeners said. “ and what happened to you?” “ Oh,” said the narrator in a melancholy voice. “ I was drowned with the rest.”