FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 544, 22 December 1928, Page 8

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

By

“THE LOOK-OUT MAN.”

■ I SONG OF THE SEASON The newsboy smirks : “Good evening , sir The dustman touches cap. Yet once they passed with haughty air , And did not give a rap. To diagnose is smart , I trow, It’s getting close to Christmas no w! . * * THE MISTAKE An ostrich in the Waikato district has perished, the result of swallowing a tennis-ball in mistake for an apple. The unfortunate bird probably thought it was a Doherty. THE PEACEMAKER The Nobel Peace Prize has been awarded to Baron Pierre de Coubertin, whose contribution to the world’s peace was his part in founding the Olympic Games. It is understood that the runner-up was the ex-Kaiser, and that consolation prizes (posthumous) were bestowed on Napoleon Bonaparte and Julius Caesar. RESOURCEFUL CRITICS The past and present players spilling so much ink over the test cricket matches at least show resource. Here are some samples from the nimble pen of Mr. Clem Hill: December 5: Nothling must be included in the next team. December 7: Nothling will eventually force his way into the team. December 12: I welcome the inclusion of Nothling. December 21: Nothling should be dropped. Mr. Hill’s next pronouncement on the subject is being awaited with keen interest. * • • THE WORST EVER According to the master of the Eleanor Boling, which has returned from Antarctic seas, the pack-ice encountered by the Byrd expedition is the worst for thirteen summers. On what basis the mariner establishes his comparison is not clear. People with an acquaintance of the polar ice extending over 13 years are rare. The whaling ships have not been visiting there for a third of the period. The penguins and seals could tell; but they are mute. Anyway, what is a bit of pack-ice to a penguin or a seal? Still the tendency of man to make these harmless observations is as old as the race. Who ever knew a long-distance airman who did not encounter headwinds all the way? What cricketer, given out leg before wicket, cannot be induced to have a word or two to say about the umpire; and who has not heard a farmer say: “Well, this is the worst season I remember?”

THE GIFT (Being this week’s fairy-story). Once upon a time there was an election campaign, in which a high pillar of the State made a promise to a certain city, which loved the out-of-doors, of a certain island which, strange to say, had always been the city’s, by moral right, if not by actual titledeeds. When the time came, more pillars of the State decided that the promise was not so easy of fulfilment as it had seemed. The island was lavishly stocked with prize animals, including guinea-pigs of impeccable pedigree, rabbits with fur as white as the driven snow, and Himalayan yaks'with which one of the pillars of the State hoped to infuse a strain of hardihood into the Waikato dairyherds. Moreover, one end of the island was peopled with strange tenants, sufferers from all sorts of dreadful afflictions. It was deemed inconceivable that people would hesitate to expose themselves to these horrors. Accordingly, a large fortress was erected to keep them off. Barb-wire entanglements were constructed, and, as a further precaution, these were electrified, while batteries of machine-guns were placed in commanding positions. There was not much water upon this otherwise perfect island, so rather than put people on their honour, the pillars of State enlisted battalions of patrolmen, charged with the duty of guarding the wells. All of which the people, to whom this place was promised, beheld, and were perplexed. But when they ventured to make protest, they were told: “Never look a gift horse in the mouth, even if the giving of the horse prove to be the selling of a pup.” And at that they were content, and feasted their eyes upon the island from afar.