From The Watch Tower

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 762, 7 September 1929, Page 8

From The Watch Tower

By

“THE LOOK-OUT MAN.”

EMPTY FAME At a picture theatre “surprise night” a detective won a packet of shampoo powders, which he returned because he was bald. He paid Lis money, wandered up the aisle, And sought with roving glance a decent pew. His artless grin masked calculating guile—■ lie picked a winner: second seat, row Q. Did he possess the gift of second sight, Or hear the whisper of some psychic voice? Was it the Evil One who put him right And had a hand in that strategic choice? How fickle Fortune is ! The happy sleuth Clicked right away. But how it must have galled ! Fortune had counted on some radiant youth. But Fortune blundered —Sherlock Holmes was bald! RIKKO. BLUE PETALS Sober old gentlemen who had not looked so festive since poppy day were given a cheerful air yesterday by the little blue forget-me-nots bestowed on them by street collectors in return for a small tribute. Unaware of their origin, many a wife perhaps wondered whence the tokens came. But the L.O.M. would like to add that the adoption of such an arrangement deserves to be numbered with the year’s happiest thoughts. City men ambushed at street corners did not have to purchase immunity by displaying a square of paper or a strip of silk akin to that aired by stewards at agricultural shows. Let all street-collecting societies adopt some such standards, and there will be more cheerful givers. SAINTS AND SINNERS Except in special circumstances the average gentleman of the period does not care a rap for all the saints in the calendar. The feats which won them their rank were all performed long ago. If there was any possibility that a great footballer or golfer could be canonised in recognition of saving the ashes or holing out nine consecutive times in one, that would be a different matter. But now our respect for the saints must necessarily be of abstract character. This does not apply to bankers and their servants. In banking circles the saint of any creed or colour is venerated with peculiar earnestness. Hence when you go along to your bank in a state of panic about your overdraft, you are liable to And a notice pinned to the door: “St.. Ethelred’s Day: Bank closed.” All very disturbing, so business men are trying to rob the pious bankers of four of these saint’s day holidays. Mr. F. T. Grose, chairman of the associated banks, has declared that he never heard of such a thing. In fact, he is so overcome that he is now taking a holiday. If he can hold out long enough to repel the iconoclastic proposals, no doubt he himself may be canonised in due time. WEST WIND Little by little Castlecliff, the seaside suburb of Wanganui, has been converted from a waste of sand dunes into a salubrious spot bedight with lupins, bungalows, and all the other accompaniments of progress. Sometimes a dash of extra colour is provided by a wreck, like the Cyrena wreck of 1923, which strewed the beach with oil-cases for miles and miles. And it has to be admitted that the dressing accommodation for bathers would shame the primitive arrangements at most Auckland beaches. But there the advantages for the most part end. Castlecliff is too often wind swept. Full of ambition, the residents now propose to form a company and create a marine parade, plant trees, and effect other improvements. It is a sad reflection that before perfection can be attained the company will have to subdue the persistent west wind. IN PRAISE OF COWS The marvellous possibilities of fertiliser on good, bad, or indifferent lands are even yet not recognised by townsfolk. A cow-spanker at Whakatane has part of his SO acres fertilised, and part untreated. On the fertilised part he can graze his -whole herd for five days, and on the other of equal area, for three. Moreover, the butter-fat content of the output goes dorvn with a rush when the cows move off the improved pastures. Incidentally, the cow is a hungry animal. Its stomach—or, if you prefer it, stomachs—can reputedly hold over two hundredweight of masticated herbage. A good cow would be a fine asset in some back sections that we know of, and if the grass gave out there would always be the laden clothes lines, for which the discriminating cow- has a particular fancy.