FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 784, 3 October 1929, Page 10

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

By “THE LOOK-OUT MAN." THE BEST Scientists have found the stone imprint of an enormous human foot beside the Limpopo River, in Africa. Beside the broad Limpopo's tawny flood He kept his last patrol. The fossil tells his story in the mud. God bless that policeman’s sole! • * • IN CHANCERY The practice of claiming fortunes in Chancery breaks out like a rash, and New Zealanders seem particularly susceptible to it. A Hastings man interested in the latest claim says he always had the impression that his family had a lot of money behind it somewhere. It would be a good deal more assuring if he had the conviction that there was a lot of money in front of it. S. O. S. The life of the listener-in is not without its compensations. Yesterday IYA essayed to pick up and rebroadcast the Rugby match from Wellington, but there was a great deal of interference. Finally the announcer said: —“Owing to the unfavourable conditions we are unable to re-broad-cast. from 2YA, Wellington. Therefore we will broadcast a tenor solo, ‘Lend Me Your Aid,’ by Gounod.” It would be erroneous to assume that Gounod w T as a wireless mechanic, but the opening lines of the song have a certain significance:

“How frail and weak a thing is man I-low poor this work of ours!” k % * LANDMARK

To appreciate the prominence of the War Memorial Museum as a district landmark, it is necessary to take long motor drives In the rural outskirts of the city. When the building is illuminated with floodlights, as proposed by the Citizens’ Committee, this prominence will be accentuated. The museum can be seen by day from points many miles out at sea. Far beyond Tiri its dim white mass seems poised on the skyline. At night the radiance of the lighting system will make it still more conspicuous. The museum is visible from many points far beyond the marine boroughs on the North Shore. On the higher levels of the road to Sllverdale the traveller sees Us shape from afar. Looking dow’n on Auckland from many a distant eminence, it is always those pale walls that catch the roving eye. Even on the flats between Kumeu and Riverhead, aw’ay up near the head of the Waitemata, the traveller joyously identifies the museum when he sees its distant bulk through the hedgerows. THE CHRISTCHURCH BLUES Christchurch, which is already noted for the humorous character of its municipal edicts, has decreed that Saturday night dances must stop at 11.30 p.m. This regulation ,seems remarkable more for its extraordinary restraint than for anything else. Lord Mayor Archer might get some good ideas from the result of a recent surve3' of American dance-hall law's. In Lincoln, Nebraska, “the lady shall place her left hand on the gentleman’s right shoulder or arm, and her right hand on the gentleman’s left hand, and at all times the patrons shall keep their bodies at least six inches apart.” At Muskegon, Wisconsin, no man may dance with another. In Kansas no unescorted woman is allowed within a dance hall. In Oklahoma three public censors may stop a dance at any time. These few items show that there is still a great deal that the Christchurch reformers may do before their passion for the blues—meaning laws, not dances—exhausts itself. WIVES’ SHARE Since wrestling is a popular subject it is interesting to pursue tbe theme in all its ramifications. So much is said in the proper columns about the wrestlers and their gyrations that it seems only right and proper that elsew’here a little space should be set apart for the wrestlers’ wives. Even a male audience absorbed in the technicalities of the wrestling programme cannot forbear to cast an admiring glance in the direction of the ringside seats ornamented—and that is the word—by those devoted helpmeets who no doubt have to massage many a bruised If chunky shoulder, and bear with the professional volubility of their lords when the wrestling matches that were won or lost fire wrestled all over agalD. There are not only the wives, but also the offspring, who on recent evidence never turn a hair even when daddy takes the most disastrous tumble. They may be wrestlers’ children—born to the purple, so to speak—but at least one proud parent was confident the other evening that his own lusty three-year-old would be capable of taking a fall or tw’o at the expense of Alley, junior.