FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 949, 16 April 1930, Page 10

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

By “THE LOOK-Op MAN." DEVIL-MA Y-CARE “I once saw a young chap running for dear life on the beach without a stitch on at Hawaii, while a companion was potting at him with a shotgun for fun,” —a singular incident reported at a meeting of yachtsmen. Of things I’d interpret as fun This incident doesn't seem one. Some like to play leap frog-, or kiss in the ring:, And others like potting a bird on the But I candidly state that it’s hardly the thing To shoot at a friend with a gun. If you think I’m a spoil sport, I’m not, But to plaster a fellow with shot When lie’s caught in a state of such painful undress That he warrants a par. to himself in the Press— And a readable par. I might say, to digress— Is making it rather too hot. Perchance in some tenantless bay I, too, may be taken that way, But if ever the spirit that mariners share, Which prompts demonstrations of devil-may-care, Does take me, O Lord, if there must be a pair, ' Let me lie the marksman, I pray ! THE GLAD HAND The word “Britisher,” which unfortunately is given currency at times in the Dominions, is a flagrant Americanism which first came into existence as a term of derision and contempt. The colonial overlooks this implication, but the fastidious Englishman. Scot, Irishman or Welshman loathes the word. Hence the New Zealand Rugby Union’s message to the British team, beginning “Welcome, you Britishers,” might have been more happily worded. The union could hardly have perpetrated a greater breach if it had worded the message, “Welcome, you pommies.” TWO EXTREMES So Admiral Byrd and party had to go to Rotorua to learn what cold really was. It is a queer fact that most people who have never been to Rotorua picture it as a place of tropical temperatures. The term “thermal regions” deceives them. They think of Rotorua as a place where the hot pools and other amenities serve the same purpose as a steam-heating plant in a Queen Street office building. Admiral Byrd’s experience confirms this suspicion. The distinguished explorer probably made the elementary error of leaving off his warm underclothing, and consequently shivered a good deal more than he had done in the Antarctic, where he was adequately fortified against the cold. This recalls the experience of a New Zealander who went exploring the Riviera, the Mediterranean, and Switzerland. He almost froze in North Africa, he shivered in Naples, his teeth chattered like castanets on the Riviera, but in Switzerland he struck a burst of blistering weather that reminded him of Rotorua —at midsummer! AROUND THE HOUSE My room is full of banners, My bed is full of sheets, My father learns me manners, My mother gives me eats. —Roger (aged 9). THE VETERAN By the death of Malcolm Ross, dean of the Parliamentary Press Gallery, a familiar face will be missed from the precincts of Parliament when the House reassembles. Members of the Gallery will mourn a colleague whose "scoops” of pre-war days when he was in his nrime as a political correspondent, were part of its unwritten history. Malcolm Ross typed his work on a typewriter of extraordinarily ancient vintage, which was perhaps one of the most interesting sights in the Pressl oom at the back of the gallery proper. The newcomer’s respect for the venerable relic invariably increased when he learned that it accompanied' Mr. Ross wherever he went on his rounds as New Zealand’s official war correspondent ill France. Some historic dispatches had therefore come off that old machine. Some that might have made history came off it, too, but they never got past the censor. ••RATS” The Parliamentary correspondent of long standing usually has what to his colleagues are cryptically knows as “rats.” There is no reproach about this term. A rat in this sense is oiie of a syndicate of newspapers to which the correspondent sends political dispatches. Thus there are big rats and little rats, each meaning a little more grist to the correspondent's mill, so that the more rats he has, the merrier is the hard-working Pressman. Mr. Ross in his day had a large number of them, some of w-hich in later years he passed on to younger colleagues, who greeted each new rat with delight. After Mr. Ross in degree of long service in the gallery came Mr. C. E. Wheeler and Mr. Lindsay Buick. Mr. Buick, a noted New Zealand historian, has now retired from active work in the gallery, leaving "Charlie” Wheeler, with 22 years’ service, the present dean of the Press gallery. As befitting his long service, Mr. Wheeler has a considerable number of ‘‘rats. - ’