FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 891, 7 February 1930, Page 8

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

By “THE LOOK-OUT MAN.”

THE CONNOISSEUR A vagrant informed Mr. F. K. Hunt, S.M., at the Police Court recently, that he did not mind going to gaol as long as his cell was clean. He expected that the food would be up •to standard. Scatter fragrant odours, mop the floor with zest, Give the bars a lustre brighter than the rest. Failing your objection, X prefer perfection— So, in cell selection, kindly choose the best. Now about the menus: notify the cook, Set about perusal of a standard book. Bring me nothing boney, Underdone or “phoney”— Let the meals be toney ; fit to grace my nook. —DUO. PAPER COVERINGS Even in the month of February few would care to Imitate the action of the two men who, a few nights ago, were found sleeping on the floor ot an empty Grey Lynn shop with onlyold newspapers for covering. Paper, however, is a better protection from cold than many may imagine. A poor conductor of heat and cold, it forms a serviceable barrier between the body and tbe chilly outer air. At various times the Japanese Army has experimented with paper suits, and many experienced travellers swear by newspapers as a preventive of sea-sick-ness. The papers must be wrapped round the body under a normal amount of clothing, and the warmth thus retained helps the stomach to withstand the trials of the ocean wave. Plausible explanations of the mysterious cracklings which accompany one’s every movement should be thought out in advance. WEIGHT AND HEAT

The two Grey Lynn men may have endured some discomfort, but their experience was as nothing to that cf an old Stewart Islander who, In the early days, made a weekly trip across a mountain range carrying malls and supplies to an isolated settlement. Sandy, as he was called, was careless about his preparation for the twoday tramp, and never carried blankets or- food for more than 48 hours. Consequently when, on one occasion, a snow-storm arose and he failed to reach his destination, a search party set out immediately. The rescuers made their way up a mountain side to a small hut which Sandy occasionally used as a half-way house. Approaching it they saw that the corrugated iron door had been removed from its hinges and that snow was drifting thickly into the interior. Expecting the worst they hurried in. There was Sandy lying asleep in one corner with the iron door balanced on top of bim. He was chilled but otherwise unharmed, and when asked about, the door his laconic reply was: “Where there’s weight there’s ’eat.” SEARCH FOR SIZE

The rapidity with which well-pro-portioned Now Zealanders are being enrolled for duty as military police at Samoa seems to indicate that there are quite a number of good physical specimens among the unemployed. In the Dominion at normal times a man’s best chance of profiting from his height and strength Is by offering himself as a police recruit, as other services, including that of the military, have no exceptional standards of size. In England and on the Continent, however, there is a constant if limited demand for unusually big men, who are selected for crack British regiments such as the Guards, and famous European regiments. Before the war the Prussian Guards regiment was considered the finest on the Continent and the minimum physical requirements were set so high that at times recruits were hand-picked regardless of nationality. The British Grenadier Guards is and always has been composed of men of peerless physical proportions. There is no need for any tall and really well-built men to go hungry as long as these regiments require recruits. Similarly, unemployed New Zealanders of exceptional size can consider Samoa and murmur to themselves the old proverb about tbe 111 wind. LIFE’S IRONIES Scene: A Herne Bay tramcar rumbling in tbe direction of the City. Place: The foot of the Victoria Street hill. Time: The hour of the businessman’s daily migration from the suburbs. Cast: Mr. J. A. C. Allum. chairman of the Auckland Transport Board, and sundry travellers. The tram begins to climb the hill, falters, and stops. Sundry adjustments by the motorman? No result. A prolonged wait, during which the cast shows signs of marked impatience. More adjustments. Still no result. Cast exhibits greater irritation. Mr. Allum: Oh, I’m getting out of this. He steps out and begins to walk up the hill. Almost immediately tbe motors of the tram spring to life. It moves forward briskly, tops the hill, and disappears from sight. Curtain.