From The Watch Tower

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 680, 4 June 1929, Page 8

From The Watch Tower

By

“THE LOOK-OUT MAN.”

THACKER'S THEORY Dr. T. H. J. Thacker entertained the Christchurch Advertising Club to a special luncheon ot vegetable origin. Such, a diet, he told his guests, would add twenty years to their lives. The thoughts of gome I set mg heart upon Have turned to ashes now that I have gone In avid search of persimmon and raw prune, Which, taken in the blood, lead on to fortune. The business man who stalks in search of “It,” May find it in stewed- rhubarb or a bit Of sorrel, garnished decently ■with cress Or thyme, a timely dish that spells success. Thus goaded by the theories of Thacker The gastric juices make the pace a cracker . . . Yet, from tomorrow, 1 eschew green leaves , And choose to chew, instead, red-blooded beeves. QU ACKER. THE NEWER LIGHT Although Arapuni power lighted Auckland suburban homes for 20 minutes the other day, householders were unhappily not in a position to perceive the difference. Factors of voltage being the same, electric current is the same whether it comes from Arapuni or Timbuctoo. Possibly this is unfortunate. If Arapuni power came in with a ruddy glow, or suffused suburban parlours with a nice shade of pink, there would be no dismal ignorance of where the “juice” was coming from, and people in convivial frame of mind, on first noting the innovation, would be mindful of long delays and the importance of the occasion, and would say, “Ah, here’s Arapuni power at last, bet’s crack a bottle.” A POO’S LIFE Dogs are adaptable animals, but few persons except when badly in need of a lift, would envy them the place on the running-board usually granted them by motorist-owners. It is noted that in an accident at Hastings the first death recorded was that of the dog on the running-board. Yet less surprising than an occasional canine casualty is the fact that more do not occur. Dogs learn to hold their position with wonderful balancing, and after a little practice (unlike the trotter, Peterwah) most of them would rather ride than walk. NO USE TO HIM While the early door patrons of an Auckland theatre waited in a long queue, a busy salesman, whose warehouse was in his pocket, endeavoured to dispose of his stock of combs, selling at the munificent figure of sixpence apiece. Several times he had been dismissed with a gesture of contempt by an elderly and dignified gentleman in the waiting line. But he returned again and again to the attack. Suddenly a roar of laughter broke from the queue as, without waiting for the inevitable plea for patronage, the elderly gentleman snatched his hat from his head, revealing a barren, shining dome! THE POET LAUREATE The award of the coveted Order of Merit to Dr. Robert Bridges, the most scholarly poet of our day, brings the modest Poet Laureate into public notice again. Of all the Poet Laureates he has been the most silent. He refuses to reel off odes on the occasion of royal weddings and christenings, believing (and rightly) that the award of the Laureateship is a recognition of merit and not a commission to write verse to order. The best story told about him is that of the American interviewer who, unsuccessful in persuading Dr. Bridges to answer a formidable questionnaire, headed an article in the next day’s issue of his paper: “King’s Canary Refuses to Chirp!” The office of Poet Laureate is an ancient one Previous to the reign of Edwtfrd IV. there was a Versificator Regis, but the House of York produced the first Laureate, one John Kaye, whose work, “The Siege of Rhodes,” was printed by Caxton. James I. issued letters-patent appointing Ben Jonson Poet Laureate, and gave a pension of £65 to the recipient. Charles I. increased the allowance and added the annual gift of a tierce of canary wiue. In Southey’s time the sum of £27 was substituted for wine, and another picturesque custom disappeared. Wordsworth and Tennyson were holders of the Laureateship. The Order of Merit to which Dr. Bridges has been admitted, was founded by King Edward VII. Rumour has it that someone was recalling to the Kings memory the remark of a peer who had once said: “Tlie beauty of the Garter is that there’s no demned merit about it.” “Let’s have an Order of Merit,” said the King . . . and the most valued decoration at Royalty’s disposal came into being.