FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 20, 14 April 1927, Page 8

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

By the LOOK-OUT MAN NEW FIELD FOR GOOD WORKS Prohibition lecturers who have gone flat on an unheeding world should joyfully delve into their encyclopaedias and digest the subject of tea. For a new field for good works has opened in the Near East, and there is a chance for new reformers to arise and curse the amber brew. Tea drinking has undermined the morals of the Tunisians since the war, we learn with infinite pain. They drink ten times the quantity of tea they did: they hold tea-drinking parties that last all night and give themselves herve, heart and sight diseases,, and they spend all their wages and sell all their tools to buy the abominable brew. The chance for regenerating the Tunisian teaaddicts is a great one. Intending wellworkers in this new field should at once gain experience by making a round of the fashionable tea-rooms of the city. “SEARCH ME!" The answer of the mayor when asked at his election meeting, “Who is this Citizens’ Progressive Committee?” was typical of the man. “Search me!” said Mr. Baildon. He didn’t know, although the names of the committee had been published in THE SUN several days before. That has been Mr. Baildon’s failing all along. He has been in a continual state of “Search me!” In matters municipal—and one might search in vain. Ask Mr. Baildon after the election why he lost the mayoralty, and his reply will be, “Search me!” , SIXTY MILES AN HOUR The tale is told by Mr. Rodie, commercial manager of the New Zealand Railways, of how the Australian railways are meeting 'bus competition by rushing trains along at 60 miles' an hour. Surely he doesn’t hint that New Zealand trains should emulate this policy! This country has had several tragic lessons of the result of speed on narrow-gauge lines. More economical working and cheaper fares and freights are what New Zealand requires, with safety guaranteed. This triple provision would attract many more passengers to the rail as against the road, draw larger freights, and, consequently, earn greater revenue. The narrow-gauge Is a handicap, but in a country such as New Zealand wider gauges could not have been financed and the authorities now have to make the best of what they have. But let them leave speeding alone. TOO MUCH COMPETITION Judging by the bankruptcy returns, small shopkeeping in Auckland seems somewhat overdone. A grocer who faced the Official Assignee this week said he bought his business as “a going concern.” It went. No sooner does a small shop appear to be doing well than someone comes along and says, “Hello, this chap’s making money; I'll have a go at it too!” Then he builds or rents a shop next door, or as near as he can get, and sets up in a similar line of business. What has been good business for one proves poor business for two, and there is a tiny smash, hardly heard in the many crashes of bad times, and another grocer, fruiterer or confectioner goes insolvent; while several wholesale houses which supplied him sigh again and wipe another account off their ledgers. Who are you? What are you? How old are you? Who was your father? Who is your mother? . Whence come you? What have you come for? Will you be staying long? If so, how long? Where was your father born? Where was your mother born? What is your religion? And a few more. These questions, or something like them, are put to you when you arrive in New Zealand—even if you are a mere New Zealander and have only been away for a fortnight for a trip to see your Australian cousins. Is it any won-

der, then, that visitors protest against this ridiculous red tapeism? A passenger by the Niagara this week wouldn’t be bothered with it. “I don’t want to go ashore,” he said, when told he must sign or stay aboard the ship. “The harbour is so beautiful I would hate to lose a minute basking in its loveliness.” But the loveliness of the harbour is doubtlessly missed by a good many people who won’t come into it because of the inquisitorial ridiculousness they have learned they will be subjected to. * * * IDLING WITH THE OYSTER Oysters at £1 a dozen are dear eating, as the woman who was recently fined that sum for unauthorised picking might have observed. She told the magistrate that she was idly knocking oysters off a rock while waiting for her husband idly singing “Gathering Shells” the while maybe. But the inspector who saw her wasn’t idle, and he gave her a fine testimonial as an oyster-picker, telling the court that she was “an expert.” Those who have been oyster-picking will tell you that the occupation demands more energy than idleness. That is why the leisured class, prefers playing with the gentle swordfish or the mild-mannered mako.