From The WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 715, 15 July 1929, Page 8

From The WATCH TOWER

By

“THE LOOK-OUT MAN.”

TRIAL, BY JURY Trial by a jury ol six children is to be introduced to deal with cases of misbehaviour at the Margaret Watt orphanage, Wanganui. The jury's out. The trial hats been A sordid revelation Of juvenile delinquency The absolute negation O f all that stern convention bids Of proper, well-conducted kids. With many a **halt’ f , and “Stand aside;” The jurors were empanelled ; All hidden motives analysed , All testimony channelled , Until the shrinking varlet’s guilt Was demonstrated to the hilt. And now the jury's out. The six Stout pillars of propriety. Should soon return their verdict true . . . Alas, for childhood piety. Justice must wait another day. The jury's stolen out to play! BEOWULF . AND SO WE PROGRESS The latest instance of practical evolution in thought and deed is the Auckland housewife who times her eggs by dialling 396, the “Time” branch at the telephone exchange, which she finds eminently practical as a source of the desired information. THE DICKIE BIRD How these members of Parliament keep up with the times! It might be inferred from Mr. H. G. Dickie’s exposition of a popular song that he whiles away his idle hours at cabarets and other haunts of the unregenerate. It is not as though Mr. Dickie looks in any sense a jazz baby. In his outward shape the member for Patea may have risen considerably superior to the somewhat rural constituency that elected him, but he still fails to suggest the sort of person who at slight provocation begins yodelling the latest lilt from Tin Pan Alley. But possibly an infectious gaiety is seizing members of Parliament, and “All By Yourself in the Moonlight” was only a foretaste of more joyous things to come. THE QUICK AND THE DEAD Among the well-meant kindnesses showered on the German naval officers recently in Auckland was the graceful act of an eminent turf authority, who freely and from the fulness of his heart gave his guests a list of winners for Trentham. The visitors went away promising to place their all on the chosen horses, and confident that by doing so their personal fortunes would be established, and the German mark elevated to a position of unshakeable stability. Unfortunately things did not quite work out as promised, and there was a poignant ring about a farewell postcard from Hie officers. “We lost our whole money at Trentham,” they said, but sportingly added, “Never mind.” The inference seems to be that the wardroom’s collective shirt, if not lost, had at least been temporarily mislaid. ESPERANTO The latest whimsy to which an Education Minister is being asked to, accord his support is a proposal to make Esperanto—the universal language—a subject for study in all grades in the schools. Esperanto is a grand thing. It is said to include all necessary words, and none of the unnecessary ones. It is possible to ask for a drink in Esperanto, but not to swear at the barman if he fails to deliver the goods. A slight acquaintance with Esperanto, which was invented by a Pole in 1876, reveals some simple principles of word-formation. To hew or chop is haki from that come haJcilo an axe, and hakisto an axeman. Similarly botC is a boot, and a bootmaker becomes potisto. All very fine, but the trouble about Esperanto is the people who can speak it are so few and far between. That is the difficulty with universal languages. They take such a long time to become universal. THE FATHER OF THE NATION This complex civilisation rightly exalts and applauds the hand that rocks the cradle, and the same hand when it is correspondingly engaged in wheeling a laden perambulator. But it frowns in derision upon the poor unfortunate who is required to wheel an empty one. Every Benedict knows that crucial moment of his married life when he goes to purchase the pram, and. having made the purchase, raises a plaintive voice: “How do I get it home?” Lest purchasers be embarrassed, an Auckland firm of perambulator manufacturers has solved the difficulty by having a boy whose task in life is to wheel empty prams to their destinations. The heroic deputy has in him the possibilties of an ideal husband and helpmeet, plus the skill of a future world’s champion peram-bulator-pusher. but it is feared that the whole effect, of his early training will be an unswerving inclination toward celibacy.