FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 874, 18 January 1930, Page 8

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

A FAMILY MATTER The claim that the sea-lion cub at Western Springs is the first born in captivity Is disputed in Wellington, where the zoo authorities claim to have had three born at different times. We may boast about our harbour, With its islands and its bays, We may chirp about our buildings. And sing canticles of praise Exalting busy Queen Street, But w*e cannot—here's the rub-—-Extol our captive sea-lion As the first; to have a cub. When sea-lions start begetting Reinforcements for the zoos, We doff our hats to Wellington— Indeed, we cannot choose. But why should we be envious. Why make a paltry fuss? We guarantee they cannot beat Our hippopotamus! * * * AT ONE TREE HILL One Tree Hill, having been a road district since 1876, rightly feels that the time has now arrived for It to become a borough. The populous and progressive district has fully earned Its graduation, But there is one thing that may trouble sticklers for propriety. One Tree Hill, though an excellent, picturesque and distinctive name, has a rural flavour. It Is only a step or two removed from “Casey’s Creek” or “Ca.nvastown Flat.” Uninformed people reading about the Mayor of One Tree Hill might expect him to be a two-gun man with a broa’d-hrimmed sombrero and the sort of pants fancied by the well turned out cowboy. * * * BRAINS WILL TELL His Excellency the Governor-Gen-eral says he Avould like to see a conference of this country’s best brains convened to deal with the evil of unemployment. Sir Charles appears to forget that a conference of what are generally claimed to be the best brains of the country is already a regular affair. It opens every year, usually on the last Thursday In June, and stays in session for some months, after which, in recognition of its noble work in the interests of humanity, it votes itself a £IOO bonus and goes borne. It Is an excellent idea to convene gatherings representative of the country’s best brains—as long as the selection of those brains is not conducted on an elective basis,. FAILING FLEECE

Wool has gone down another notch, the latest decline having been registered at Napier, Avhere the hearts of sheepfarmers will soon be in their boots. There is a mitigating circumstance, however, in the note that the drop was partly due to the poor condition of the wool, which showed the effects of the Avet season. Even in Hawke’s Bay, where the hills are brown, and the holiday-makers happy, they have had more than the normal quantity of rain. Such conditions are reflected upon the life of the community in numberless little ways. The other day a lady stood in a Queen Street butcher’s shop. She asked for a pound of chops, lean ones. “Ah, lady,” said the butcher sadly, “the meat at present is that fat we simply don’t knojv what to do with It. There hasn’t been so much feed about for years.” And he shook his head in sorrow as he pondered on the inscrutable ways of Providence. BOWLED OUT Christchurch, a happier city since the fire-bugs have been out of the way, must be chuckling to itself just now, and wondering what Commissioner Mcllveney and Mr. T. M. Wilford are thinking about it ail. In his exalted post as High Commissioner, Mr. Wilford is perhaps above such trifling embarrassments, but the other commissioner, who not so long* ago declared emphatically that the Christchurch fire-fiends were the invention of the stunt Press, mav be wondering whether the publicity thus obtained was worth while. It is possible, of course, that even now he declines to believe in the existence of the incendiarists. It may be open to question whether there Is a stunt Press in New Zealand, but there are certainly such things as obtuse officials. NO. 13 Strange how deep-seated is the abhorrence of number 13. Of course, thl3 superstition is all nonsense. Someone ought to stamp it out. It is common property that no modern—note the “modern” —would tolerate a No. 13 ward or No. 13 cot. Motorists, like their Aflctims sent to the infirmary, are also apparently timorous of the notorious number,. If not, then why the omission of a certain number from that village of locker garages at Newmarket? The identification runs 11, 12, 14 and so on. An acquaintance of the D.O.M. has gazed glazedly at the numbers twice a day for a year from the trams, yet noticed nothing missing until his little girl aged six, seeing the figures for the first time, asked: “Daddy, why hasn't it got No. 13 ?”