FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 696, 22 June 1929, Page 8

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

By “THE LOOK-OUT MAN." THE STRAIGHT GHAT Replying to representations of the Auckland Chamber of Commerce concerning the South Island railway, the Hon. G. W. Forbes said: "I hare no comment to make.’’ T Vhen Ministers with deputations meet They fit their phrases to a strict tradition. The soft retort, the diplomatic bleat , Disguise the Ministerial indecision. Then what price Forbes, whose candour takes the cakef He simply says: “I’ve no comment to make.” Evasiveness is not for him. He’s terse, Silent and strong. You know the way they breed ’em. In hard-boiled places that inspire the verse of Services and Kiplings—if you heed ’em. “I’ve no comments”—that sentence briefly turned, Is redolent of ancient usage spurned. But when at length, before the pearly gates, 'Where sentinels angelic guard the portals, Seeking celestial privilege he waits, Will he, who scorned the formulas of mortals, Without dispute Jove’s final verdict take, Nor rail if He has no comment to maket T. Toheroa.

PAEKAKARIKI HILL Motorists climb in low gear over Raekakariki Hill, but the resources of a gear-box are not available to a heavy load, and that is why trains passing along the main line to Wellington run between the steep hillside and the sea. Paekakariki Hill soars skyward nearly a thousand feet, and motorists at the top, whence a wonderful panorama of the straits is opened, can look down on Pukerua Bay, where a landslide has come down on the railway. It is a locality with a bad reputation among railwaymen, for boulders sometimes rattle down the slope. Some years ago one entered a carriage, killing a woman passenger and Injuring others. * . * "IT” The Prince of Wales will be 35 tomorrow—and still single. It is time the young man married, but the charms of Lady May Cambridge, and the large assortment of royal brides chosen for him from the various courts of Europe have so far failed to break down his celibacy. The tendency is not inherited, for his father married at 28, his grandfather at 22. And it is the more strange because, according to a current movietone offering, the Prince has “it,” meaning that indefinable quality of personal charm which has made Clara Bow a movie queen. Valentino, too, had “it,” but he lost “it,” and only recovered “it” a short time before his untimely end. It seems that “it” cannot live in the same quarters as self-consciousness, so his Royal Highness must be totally unaware of his singular gifts. ALL’S QUIET In advanced literary circles the sole topic of discussion last evening was the announcement that the Public Library had banned the celebrated war book, “All Quiet on the Western Front.” One theory put forward was that the library authorities have been subsidised by the publishers, who realise the truth of the dictum that the longest way round is the shortest way of making a book a best-seller. “After all,” said Mrs. Prudence Prudery, “they must know that having read about it in the papers we shall now all have to go and buy it, if only to be up with the times.” “And what,” inquired that eminent critic, Colonel Pawne O’Graphic, “is the value of reality in novels when the libraries will not handle them? Life, red and raw —that’s what we want from our novelists. Yes, sir!” And he returned to his earnest study of “Eric, or Little by Little.” * . * CHARM Every dog has its day, and the Alsatian’s would be short if all that people feared of it were true. There is a great Alsatian in Auckland, Charm by name; a beautiful specimen in appearance. But people call Charm a wolf-dog, though she is as gentle as a lamb. The prejudice against Alsatians has gone so far in Australia, where squatters visualise packs of them roaming the country like wolves or dingoes, that the breed is banned there altogether. So when Charm’s owner contemplated moving to Sydney for a time, he found the handsome Alsatian could not accompany him. Perforce, she had to be sold. She commanded a good price, for Charm is one of the finest trickdogs, if she could be called that, in this country. She will do almost everything but talk. But price is beside the point when a parting from a loved companion is involved. The animal's new owner lives in Wellington. She is a little girl, six or seven years of age. A dangerous beast is the Alsatian.