From The Watch Tower

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 660, 11 May 1929, Page 8

From The Watch Tower

By “THE LOOK-OUT MAN.” ON THE CONTRARY “He does not get up sweepstakes for love.” —A statement by the prosecution in a gaming case yesterday. When florins in the bookie’s bag are falling. And he listens full of rapture to their song, That's a sign of his affection for his calling, And subtracts therefrom its element of wrong. When wagering at odds, or laying doubles, The game is all that leads him to enthuse. Suppose he drops a lot of pelf 7 His troubles l He’s in the game for love — win, draw, or lose. Let happy punters wreck his chance of profit, Not his at fickle fortune's jest to bleat. His part to take his cap and humbly doff it — The sportsman’s acquiescence in defeat. So treat him light. Let not his wealth be forfeit. Be kind to him, and gentle as a dove. Against the lawt Illegal trade 7 Come off it! He’s only getting sweepstakes up for love ! T. TOHEROA. KEEPING IN STEP A man in Christchurch, according to a wire today, has been bankrupt three times and married three times. That is how the message put it, but the office cynic suggests that the order should be reversed. * * * ANOTHER LITTLE NAME A correspondent writes to express his enjoyment of the recent debate dealing with lengthy names. “Here’s another nut for your gentle readers to crack,” he says; ‘metametoxyparahydroxybenzaldihydl’—that’s the champion name of the world —at least I know no better. I wonder how many know what it means? Every housewife should?” He adds that the answer will be forthcoming if no one is able to oblige. * • » THE “ BLIGHTY ” A passing reflection upon the roadside tragedy near Opotiki turns on the assumption of investigators that, since the fatal gunshot wound had not penetrated the man’s shirt, that garment having been pulled on afterwards, then the man was murdered. A Gallipoli veteran, reading the details, was reminded of the miscalculation of a warworn soldier, who shot himself through the foot to get a “blighty.” He made the error of taking off his boot to do the job, and of putting it on again intact after he had done it. THE MASQUERADERS Still another masquerader has come to light—a woman wearing the habiliments of a man, and shouldering the heavy responsibilities of both timbercarter and husband. The callipygian carter —“callipygian” being a word nicely employed by an American writer in discussing the case of Captain Barker —deluded a guileless spouse for some years. The surprise expressed by the victim of the deception will be mildly echoed by readers of her words. Tendencies like these often come to light in a bunch, and the recent outburst can therefore not be taken as an indication that the world is falling into uncertainty about its sex. Were the recent series of disclosures a true reflex, no man would know his friend, nor woman her husband. NEPIA’B RIVAL An. action picture of the Mayor kicking the first football at a new sports ground yesterday shows that he might have made a great place-kick if caught young enough. Allowing for a certain lack of freedom, he has all the style of a Nepia. Nevertheless, it is a pity to see even a Mayor doing a job customarily performed by perfumed and powdered chorus-girls or the equally attractive daughters of local celebrities. Few sights are more noble than the picture of a trim damsel walking out among 30 rugged footballers to kick off, or collapse in the attempt. Usually the result is only a moderate success, but the courtesies of the occasion overlook its deficiencies. Long ago a lady deputed to undertake this task developed housemaid’s knee or a kindred ailment at the last minute, so an effective deception was arranged. Her substitute, silk-stockinged and fresh, tripped out in the approved style, and kicked a terrifically long ball, that almost soared over the goalposts. Then the substitute divested himself of his strange disguise, and hurled himself into the fray. He, small of stature and a good amateur actor, was the crack eentrethreequarter for one of the teams.