FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 833, 29 November 1929, Page 8

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

By

“THE LOOK-OUT MAN.”

THE ANTIQUE .S 'HOP The old antique shop, half way down the hill,' Attracts my fancy, every time I pass. A crystal necklet shines behind the glass. And amber beads their yellow magic spill Upon some ancient tray of tarnished brass. Besides such relics of the craftsman’s skill Are piles of books, a precious, tattered store Of printed wisdom and sagacious lore. . . . Here is a volume penned in girlish script. The daily task of sixty years ago. This street was Shortland Crescent when she tripped Along- it—youth and beauty all aglow. . . . And here, in pagan splendour past Grins the carved visage of a Maori chief. TOMAHAWKED That the unenlightened residents of certain localities do not appreciate the spread of civilisation and the marks of its progress is indicated by the report that axes have been used on the A.A.A. signboards in the Bay of Plenty. This behaviour may denote either a shortage of firewood or else the survival of that spirit of churlish resentment which still seems to agitate a few diehard pedestrians. Some of the signposts at important intersections ax’e now loaded with enough timber to sustain an open fire throughout a hard winter. Unfortunately this is not quite the end at which the A.A.A.’s labours have been directed. Their purpose is to assist motorists out of the wood, and not to assist others who are merely deficient in it. BUSTING THE BONUS Political consciences are actually revolting against the idea that members of Parliament should accept £IOO of the benign taxpayers’ money, and Mr. H. R. Jenkins has joined the happy band which is spurning the proffered pelf. Mr. Jenkins, however, has had a bright idea. His money will not go back into the coffers of the State, but to the Diocesan High School, thereby perhaps putting the Diocesan High School in a slight quandary as to whether it should deliver thanks to Mr. Jenkins, Parliament, or the people who in the first place provide the bonus. Other needy institutions will no doubt, be quick to copy this idea. Politicians will be besieged with pleas for aid. it should be a merry Christmas. ON THE SPOT The new peril referred to yesterday, chocolates flavoured with rum or other spirits, has stirred memories in the breasts of soldiers. A Digger recollects an occasion at Armentieres, when some large-sized liqueur chocolates were distributed. Those were days when even rum could masquerade in a chocolate and still get away with a civic reception. The chocolates were no puny affairs, either, but large confections moulded alluringly in the form of bottles, flagons, or even casks. On the word of one chocolate fancier, they were agreeable to take but the results were deadly. A mixture of cognac ami a few assorted liqueurs taken ’in the unaccustomed form of a chocolate was enough to put the most hardened sinner on his ear. Men who experienced the after-effects of such a celebration swore with great depth of feeling that never again would they look a chocolate in the face. But that was 10 or 11 years ago. Time is long and soldiers’ memories are fleeting. There will be a warm welcome from at least two former warriors for any chocolate produced locally that bears the divine semblance of a bottle. THE OLD SHAKO Yesterday some of the soldiers of ten years and more ago emerged in the glory of: khaki and polished buttons. The dash and glitter of the display were mainly centred among the officers. It was a little strange to hear again the clanking of scabbard and the clinking of spurs in Queen Street, recalling the brave days when the male civilian population seemed almost in a minority, and martial trappings glittered on every hand. At the present date, when war and all the accoutrements of war seem rather far away, there is a tendency for ex-servicemen to be tender if anyone suggests that they don the uniform for a ceremonial occasion. Manyeven show an embarrassed reluctance to display service ribbons on the coat lapel. When all is said and done, this tendency is carrying shrinking modesty a little far. If a man who wears his uniform or ribbons for a commemorative ceremony is to be accused of ostentation, then the raising of tributes in stone would seem to be almost in vain. There is a distinct call for the appearance now and again of those faded khaki garments. The only difficulty is that important items in the, military wardrobe may have since been worn out on service—in the garden.