FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 177, 17 October 1927, Page 8

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

By

"THE LOOK-OUT MAN”

IN THE LIVING HEART

At a memorial service in France to commemorate 460 writers who were killed in the war, the Minister of Education said the real tomb of the dead was the living heart. Raise up no monument to me of cold, unfeeling stone, When from the warm and living flesh my searching soul has floicn. And when this flesh, has cooled to clay within its earthly tomb. Remember me as laughing still,' and give no heed to gloom. Marie not my little resting-place with vanities of craft; I wish no sculptured sorrowing—for I have lived and laughed! I only ask that men will smile—as 1 have smiled in parts — And give me kindly mem’ry in their understanding hearts. SOUTHERN CROSS AND WIRELESS The Marine Department allowed the missionary steamer Southern Cross to leave Auckland without wireless equipment, though trading vessels carrying her complement are compelled to comply with the regulations. The Southern Cross, cruising in the vicinity of the Solomon Islands, cannot be informed that the gentle islanders have massacred some 30 people, and that they may be quite in the mood to murder the people on the Southern Cross should they land in their usual good faith, unaware of developments. The cruiser Adelaide has been instructed to keep a lookout for the missionary vessel, and give her warning, but though the cruiser has made the Solomons, there is no report of her having sighted the Southern Cross. Just now the marine authorities and the owners of the Southern Cross should be doing a little serious thinking. OUR BUTTER IS BETTER The activity of that most energetic gentleman, Sir James Parr, has in no wise diminished since he resigned politics for the High Commissionership. Sir James has just completed a tour of important English towns, undertaken for the specific purpose of boosting New Zealand butter. Incidentally, he pointed out some home truths to the Home people, expressing surprise that foreign butter should be preferred by British people, while the New Zealand article was stocked in very few shops—this especially in view of the fact that Australia and New Zealand bought from Britain, more than North and South America and Western Europe combined. “One good turn deserves another,” is a sound argument, and Sir James is just the man to hammer it home. He is launching a publicity campaign to counteract foreign preference, and New Zealanders will wish him all the success his enterprise deserves. THOUSANDS OF TYPISTS■ Unless there is some mistake in the figures, there must be sufficient typists in the employ of New Zealand’s numerous Government depart ments to flood the whole earth with correspondence. Sir Ernest Jardine, chairman of a British typewriter manufacturing company, announces that the New Zealand Government has placed its contracts for future supplies with his firm, and that the contract is worth £54,000 a year. If the figures are correct, the Jardine firm ought to follow the example of the big motor-car interests and erect an assembling factory in New Zealand. Since the Government is importing so many typewriters, how is it managing for typists? Are they being imported, too—as nominated immigrants, under the heading “domestics”? vx 7K rlt Jik -!( VA jiK -K i'A 'AA Vr Ik Vr.

DEL AVAN BILL There is a trotting horse called Delavan Bill. Those who went to Alexandra Park on Saturday will know him; those who backed him to win have good cause to “treasure” his memory. Delavau Bill was said to be a fast horse —when he went. His trouble was that he very seldom went. He was set down as a starter in the second race on Saturday. He didn t start. While the remainder of the field trotted off, more or less willingly, at the given signal, he reared up on his hind legs. Then he came down on all four feet and bucked. All the efforts of his driver were useless. The Look-out Man wouldn’t have been in that driver’s place for £lO, spot cash. When the field was half way around, Delavan Bill condescended to move. He walked slowly to the fence in front of the members’ stand, and, putting his head across it, stood as though to ask " \Yhat do you think of that?” Some people had no hesitation in declaring that a bullet between the eyes would express their thoughts far more fittingly than could a vocabulary hopelessly inadequate for such an emergency.