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Manawatu Herald, Volume XXX, Issue 441, 10 November 1908, Page 4

At a meeting of the Wellington branch of the New Zealand Socialist Party last night, the following resolutions were passed : ‘‘That it has no sympathy with individuals disturbing election or no-liceuse meetings.” ‘‘That it endorses the no-license movement, and urges workers to vote in that way, in their own economic and moral interests. ”

The Masterton Times gives the following recipe for treating garden crops that have been smitten by frost: —“ Water by itself, is no good at all. But get 3d worth of Condy’s crystals and dissolve in ten gallons of water. Spray the solution with a watering-can after a night’s frost, and the crop will not suffer to any extent. I have tried it and speak from experience. I also soak my seed potatoes in the same solution, letting them dry before planting, and the results have proved satisfactory. I don’t only spray after a frost, but occasionally as the growth progresses, and I have found doing so decidedly beneficial. With a watering-can you can spray a fair sized patch in a very short time, and the time and labour are well expended—at least, such has been my experience.”

For five minutes on Thursday, says the Post, the statue had a rival attraction near the water front. A young man was strolling gaily along the Queen’s Wharf, with the sheen of a new bowler hat brilliant in the sun. Suddenly the frolicsome wind lifted off the gleaming top hamper and desposited it in the harbour. The owner did not despair. He managed to find a frail punt, and paddled after the scudding beadgear. Small boys and men gathered along the edge of the wharf, and much enjoyed the chase. The hunter overrowed his prey once or twice, and flapped a vain oar at his property. Whenever he got within nice striking distance, the ungentle wind buffetted the crazy craft, and the oarsman had to exert himself to avoid taking a header into the deep. “Go it, Webb,” shouted a gamin, but the hat continued to win all the way. At last it drifted close to the wharf, and a merciful bystander grabbed it up with a boathook. “Lookout, lad ; he’s going to pawn it,” called out a man, with a Lancashire accent, to the hatless one who was beginning his return voyage.