THE POTATO PATCH.

Franklin Times, Volume 9, Issue 626, 22 April 1921, Page 5

THE POTATO PATCH.

An interesting document is the district electors’ roll of the Pukekohe Borough Council. A thing that strikes me on pursuing it is how comparatively uncommon in the borough the common surnames are. F’rinstns, only nine Smiths and four Joneses! Browns are a little more plentiful, they muster 14. Among the less common names, the Adamses number 10, the Roulstons 11 and the Blakes no less than 13. In fact, the lasi-mentioned clan is becoming almost as prolific as another B. f amily is is one of out neighbouring townships.

A stranger on going to this particular town is told that there are only two classes of men in it —white ones'and brown ones. And he is enjoined that if he meet one of the latter he should say “Tenakoe,” and if one of the first-mentioned his salutation should he “Good day, Mr Barriball.”

I went to the races ail right To that fact an aching body, a hackingcough and a fevered brow bear eloquent testimony. Rain! Did ever nin reign like that rain reigned? Wet! So were the jocks, the clerk of the course and the secretary. Everyone was wet! Inside and out! How we rushed that booth, the only available shelter. And we came out wetter than we went in. And all the time down came the rain. It stopped the punters punting, the sweepstakers sweepstaking, the officials officialising. The only thing it didn’t stop was the crowd crowding into that booth. It stopped the band. It put too much liquid into their instruments. It was the little spots within the lutes that, slowly growing bigger, slowly silenced all. Blinded by the rain, plus the rain “spots,” I just discerned Prince Carl as he came home in the Cup. Then I, too, went home. Oh, what did our Racing Club do that Fate should deal so unkindly with it? A wealthy metropolitan club is famous, summer and winter, for never having bad weather. Yet the Franklin Club was almost drowned at birth. Almost, not cuite. Like the phoenix from her ashes it will rise from the mud and muddle of last Saturday week and wax strong ir. spirits—l mean spirit—and grow in favour with jock and man. —CORNELIUS.