FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 970, 13 May 1930, Page 8

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

By

“THE LOOK-OUT MAN.”

LIFE'S SUNSET A 13-year-old humorist tries his hand at serious verse: The old man lies in his clean white bed, A spotless pillow tucked under his head. His wife beside him, softly sighs, As the tears well up in her sad blue eyes. The last spark of life from his body has fled; The poor old man, in his bed, lies dead! She thinks how strong he was in his youth, How ne’er from his mouth slipped words uncouth; How gentle and kind to all was he; Yet never from danger did he flee. She sighs, and murmurs, “Poor old Ned, “He from this cruel world has fled. “His spirit shall rest in a heavenly bed.” She held to her breast that cold old head, His body, once full of life had been; Though his hair had now lost all its sheen. His muscles had once been ever ready; But now his bones lie ever steady. She softly steals from the dead man’s side, So as not to disturb what the blankets hide; The old man’s long hard journey is o’er, And he heeds the earthly world no more. And thus, without any hurry or fret, He arrives at last at Life’s Sunset. J* 5$ * GOODBYE TO ALE THAT Germany has declined to spend a well-earned pfennig on another pocket battleship, so there is still hope for people who hope to end war by reducing the navies. Apart from this there have not been many new developments in the no-more-war controversy, and at present things seem to have gone into a stalemate. Not that it will worry Mr. Average Citizen much. Except on important occasions he doesn’t worry much until there is a war actually imminent. Then he gets up in arms. And, any way, the only war we are interested in just now is the taxi war. Let them fight on for ever and ever, and ever. Ake, ake, ake! >i= * . MORE TRACK WORK An English motor journal’s comment on a recent trip from Invercargill to Auckland; The distance is approximately 1,100 miles, so that the car averaged just over 30 m.p.h.—a remarkable performance when it is remembered that for the greater part of the distance the roads are only tracks. What the English motor journal does not appear to know is that New Zealand motorists pay a heavy impost on every gallon of benzine for the maintenance of these "tracks,” and that there are almost as many facilities for safe speeding, here as anywhere else. To find a “track” in the true sense of the word it is now necessary to go considerably off the beaten track—just about as far from it as the English writer is in assuming that most of the roads between Auckland and Invercargill are of that variety. DARKNESS REIONS “St. K.”—For the last week Dunedin has been a darkened city, the Weather Clerk having ignored the fact that rain is necessary to keep the dynamos running at Waipori, Dunedin’s hydro-electric station. The Scottish city is in the unhappy position of having power sufficient onlv for her normal requirements, and any reduction of supply caused by a drought such as that at present being experienced has unfortunate results. The position is being met by a temporary cessation of street lighting. After nightfall people tramp through gloomy thoroughfares and are guided to various points such as tram stops and safety-zones by red hurricane lamps, which flicker dismally. Dunedin, for the nonce, has returned to the primitive. USING THE MOON This economy of lighting is brought about in Dunedin by dire necessity, but a nearby city, equally Scottish, makes a regular practice of it. Invercargill, for many years, has had gas street lighting. Long ago a canny administration came to the conclusion that to burn gas on moonlit nights was stupidly w-asteful. Hoots, mon! Accordingly someone secured a calendar and marked on it the dates of the full moon, pencilling also a generous margin on either side. Since then, whenever the moon is full, Invercargill is without street lighting in the suburbs. The genius who thought of the idea failed to remember that there is such a thing as cloudy weather. . Consequently there are many occasions when the suburbs are in impenetrable darkness. Invercargill’s free lighting system appears ’ with the regularity of the cosmic plan, but frequently it is of no service. There is one occasion on which the local despots never fail to provide adequate street lighting, moon or no moon. That is when a prisoner escapes from the famous Borstal Institution, and is thought to be somewhere in town. Then the lights, such as they are, blaze away wastefully to suit the convenience of the Prisons Department.