FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 667, 20 May 1929, Page 8

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

By “THE LOOK-OUT MAN.” THE DIPSOMANIACS “The cows drink themselves to death at the water troughs.’’—Complaint of Hauraki settlers to the Hon. G. Forbes. When young, ci lad is taught to spurn All tipple labelled alcoholic. Ascetic virtues he must learn. To Qualify as taciturn, And apostolic. But faith that’s built on H2O Is sadly shaken in Hauraki. Where gentle cows on water go And drink themselves to death as though On rum or saki. As I Mary on the sands of nee—Those fatal sands —recalled her cat lie, So men whose kine go on the spree Recall them lest the sequel be Death’s fatal rattle. In short, dear reader, when you quaff, Abjure the humble ivater trough. T. Toheroa. THE EGG-BEATER Strange are the tales that landladies and managers of flats could tell. One manageress of a hlock of flats counts as one of her most difficult tenants a stage lady who cherished a passion for heating eggs at all hours of the night. The sound of her whirling egg-heating ringing through the flats in the zero hours spelled sleeplessness for nearly everyone else in the establishment. Gramophones when used outside regulation hours can cause endless tribulation. In a wellknown Auckland hostelry, there are 54 rooms, and 42 of the occupants thereof have gramophones. THE CROWD HATER Women-haters, man-haters, musichaters, dog-haters, cat-haters —we have | heard of them all. But the announcement that Miss Wethered, winner of the English ladies’ golf championship, is a crowd-hater, is the first time recognition has been given publicly to this particular mania. That doesn’t mean that the mania isn’t widespread. It affects golfers as great as Bobby Jones, tennis players as great as Tilden. Bobby Jones has been known to top his drive weakly on the first tee from sheer funk, and never really settles down until the first dozen holes have been played. Great actors are often palsied with fear before going on to face a crowd of first-nighters. Amateur debaters combat the same appalling nervousness, often with appalling results. Rowing .men waiting for a race to start go through agonies, yet once the race begins their qualms are forgotten. Footballers, too, suffer from their little nerves, and an All Black of other days habitually took a mild sleeping draugnt before a big match. * 4 * STRUCK DUMB What happens when the talkies don’t talk was a question answered for an audience at one theatre in a couple of brief, ecstatic moments on Saturday evening. Something went wrong behind the scenes, and picturegoers suddenly found themselves cast back —it seemed an age —in time No longer were they watching the latest in modern forms of entertainment, but were sitting dumb before an equally dumb screen. There was not even ail orchestra. The hero’s lips moved rapidly, but no sound came. One had a thought of what might happen if a reckless censor got busy on a talkie film that didn’t fit in with his ideas of propriety. Then, after a brief lapse, the mysterious power that makes photographs talk began to function again. The hero renewed his wooing, and ail was well. DEPUTATIONS BUSY Still another Cabinet Minister is visiting the Hauraki Plains. Since there are few things that so break the monotony of country life as a Ministerial visit, the settlers will doubtless welcome Mr. Forbes, and, having filled his ears and the shorthand notebooks of his secretary with their grievances, will return again to hopefulness and their cows. For country reporters, too, the visits of Ministers form a welcome break. There is one jovial citizen who once welcomed a political potentate to a country hall by playing “See the Conquering Hero Comes” as the statesman entered. The same scribe sent the following wire to a newly created Minister whom he had never met: “Greetings. Please reserve seat in car from Cowtown. Regards.—X.” To this the Minister’s secretary replied in kind. His response, brimming over w-ith good-fellowship, ran thus: “Greetings cordially reciprocated. Delighted to accommodate you, old man.” This message was signed “George,” and the pressman w’as so impressed with the Minister’s conviviality that when they actually met he was with difficulty restrained from slapping him on rthe back.