First Thoughts —And Second

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 1, 23 March 1927, Page 12

First Thoughts —And Second

A STAFF NOTE BOOK TOO :..l.Vi’ GUARDIANS There can be a funny side to theft from the person and property of distinguished visitors to a far country. Consider what has happened in Dunedin, the New Zealand centre of moral rectitude. The valuable satchel of a private secretary to the Duke of York was taken away from under the very noses of a record posse of policemen, detectives, and railway officials, to say nothing at all about the cautious folk in Otago’s “Auld Keekie.” Even

in a stronghold of honesty, thieves will break through and steal. Perhaps this quick thief was in search of a decoration. * * * WHO GOT THE CHAMPAGNE? The incident recalls the more amusing experience of a New Zealand statesman in passing through Canada some years ago. Though a most abstemious man, an admirer had sent to him as a bon voyage gift a case of champagne — good drinking. It went abroad with him to London. On the way, less than half of the whole case was brought out to make a pleasant party in tropical moonlight on board a liner, near the centre of the Pacific. The remainder was kept for a subsequent occasion. For a long time the perfect hospitality of England left that champagne intact. Finally, it was taken across the Atlantic, thence forwarded as and with checked luggage to Vancouver. On arrival there the Ministerial party sought its goods and chattels. Everything was right except the half-case of champagne. It could not be found. At last a C.P.R. official, with a face like that of a graven image, found it in a huddle of hampers. The thing seemed strangely light. “When the pie was opened,” its contents turned out in the form of two pairs of tattered overalls—or railwaymen’s “blueys.” There was no protest. How could there be? At that time, Prohibition was in force. AT MILFORD — _ Now holiday-makers desiring a place Which offers up comforts that nought can efface Should journey to Milford, For Milford it seems Will satisfy even the wildest of dreams, With its tramways and ’buses within easy reach And its large and desirable beach. A stroll around Milford at night 1 am told Is most entertaining for young and for old. The Picturedrome blazes its glory of light On hundreds of couples who dance every night, While—way in the distance a seagull will screech, From the large and desirable beach. Soon, out from the pictures the couples will bob, Speed down the concrete away from the mob, Down to the seashore in ’buses and —Sit on the sand and look up at the stars, She calls him a “ darling ” —He says she’s a “ peach,” On the large and desirable beach. And bathing at Milford can neer be beat, To look at the lassies is really a treat, To jjeep at the costumes of some of the “ birds ” Is really too perfectly priceless for words. — Well, once you are there You will stick like a leech To the large and desirable beach. And that is why father is saving his tl quids,” To purchase a shack for the wife and the kids, Tho’ doubtless he’ll suffer some mild sort of sliocks (They’ll fall in the water or slip on the rocks) , And pi.raps little Agnes will get out of hand And come home to Mum with a mouth full of sand , —But Milford can spare it (So pardons the breach), From its large and desirable beach. — B.C.H. * * * THE DUCHESS

We shall remember always her smile. Even when illness overtook her at Nelson, flushed with the onset of a “tonsilitis temperature,” weakened with the accompanying rapid pulse, tired and nerve-worn after a motor journey from Blenheim over a road that tends to quail the stoutest heart inexperienced of it, she smiled. For her lovable heart appreciated in every beat the remarkable testimony of love accorded her by the people wherever she went. She could express her appreciation only by gesture, by the dainty wave of a dainty hand—and by the kind smile that made really lovely the face with which all became so familiar. Happily was that smile caught by the camera, happily may its reflex thus be preserved for us for all time, even now that she has gone from our midst. Great as was the disappointment to the people of the South over the illness which cut short her tour, that disappointment was forgotten in the general rejoicing over her recovery. She has gone; we hope that some day she may come back; and always shall we remember the sunshine of her smile.