FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 937, 2 April 1930, Page 8

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

By

"THE LOOK-OUT MAN.”

WORTH REMEMBERING | “I can perhaps understand a man having a little too much liquor after hearing of the death of a relative.”— Mr. W. R. McKean, S.M. When you’re hauled before the court On a charge of being blotto, It is just as well to k^ep This prescription for a motto: SimpLy face the magistrate Ana implore him to forgive. It is all you have to state That you’ve lost a relative. Say, a shandy for an aunt, Six or seven for a cousin, While a well-beloved niece Should be worth at least a dozen. Let a goblet flow with wine By the melancholy bier, Absolution will be thine Though it puts you on your ear. Uncles, nephews, and in-laws, Distant relatives by marriage, They will justify a lapse Xo traducer may disparage. Though the lapse may seem a crime, There's a sound excuse to give, It may save you doing time If you say, "Your Worship I'm Mourning for a relative.” I THE graduate | Even those who have not the privi- | lege of personal acquaintance with Mr. ! George Baildon, Mayor of Auckland, | know that there is something about ; him which suggests an uncommon up-' | bringing. Hence there will be no surprise at the news that at a gathering the other day of old boys of the St. James’s Sunday School, Mr. Baildon figured as one of the most distinguished alumni of that ecclesiastical alma mater. All boys who show a disposition to play truant from Sunday school should be shown this shining example of the rewards of early piety. Mr. Baildon has not said as mtlch publicly, but we have a sneaking suspicion that it -was during this period of his career that he heard the bells of St. James’s Sunday School tinkling prophetically, “Turn again, Baildon, etc.” OFF THE ROCKS* Fishing has become a familiar theme, but in the dog-days it is a good one. The fanciful tales of the man who sallies forth of a Sabbath morning and returns with five cod for tea and a schnapper for his breakfast are always calculated to arouse envy in the breasts of the unsophisticated. A good setting for a fisherman’s tale is Piha. For the benefit of those who don’t know its rock-bound charms, Piha is one of the prettiest places around Auckland. Its superb sweep of beach is broken by the lofty mass of Lion Rock. A mile or so south is the famous “Blow Hole,” which unfortunately is not what it once was. More important than Piha’s scenic beauties, however, is the fact that fish can be caught there merely by swinging a line off the rocks. This sounds perfectly easy when one says it quickly. BACK TO THE SEA Casting a line off the rocks sounds simple, but is an art in itself. To begin with, the knack of whirling line, I hooks and sinker round one’s head without catching (a) the rocks, (b) your neighbour, and (c) your self, is not easy to master. Then when the line is in the water it is carried by the surge into the kelp or among the rocks. However, when a West Coast schnapper bites it bites strongly. A lone pilgrim who had left his party the other day and gone forth to fish in spite of a tide of derision hadn’t had his line in the water two minutes before he was rewarded with one of those large, lusty, reddish schnapper that bring joy to the line-fisherman’s heart. Full of contentment, he placed the fish on the ledge beside him, and turned to bait the hooks. Then one of those extra large waves that occasionally surprise you at Piha burst right over him. His first thought was for his fish. He looked round, just in time to see it disappearing over the edge. IN THE FLASHLIGHT Flashlight pictures are among, the ignoblest works of man. They usually portray such emotions as fear, amazement, surprise, or complete idiocy on the part of the subjects, though sometimes this pleasing range of expressions is relieved by the blissful look of some young man who has been making up to his charming partner under cover of the darkness. However, there is a flashlight photograph due shortly to make its appearance that will outclass all previous exhibits. At Western Springs the other night a photographer undertook the task of photographing the crowd. He tried to do it in sections, proposing to join the bits together, and thus get a panoramic effect. Unfortunately he was followed round the ring by a crowd of youngsters, 60 or 70; strong, who posed themselves in the! foreground of each picture. Thus \ the panorama will present the same! faces over and over again. Young Johnny Jones, of Newton, will be i seen registering interest, enthusiasm,! amusement and derision in turn. The! picture should be a howling success.!