FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 1033, 25 July 1930, Page 10

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

By

“THE LOOK-OUT MAN.”

ITS THE EARLY BIRD . . . You must rise and call me early, Call me early, mother, dear. In the small hours of the morning' Call me so that I can hear. Do not let me slumber, mother, After half-past three or four; Call me often, call me loudly; Pull me out upon the floor. Call me punctually, mother; Rouse me from the land of dreams, Ere the first intruding sunbeam Through my bedroom window streams. Make it bright and early, mother, See that I am fed and dressed; I must sprint to Eden Park, and Get a seat to see the Test! PAKITI. NAPLES AND DEATH "See Naples and die.” In tlie light of tragic cables from a stricken land the old saying is lent a grim significance. Those who gazed for the last time upon a tottering Naples when, on Wednesday, its famous palace and its churches were shattered by a great earthquake are now numbered among a vast host of victims who perished in past Italian and Neapolitan seismic disasters. Families without number now and in the past hare been given cause to curse the historic names it Stromboli, Etna and Vesuvius—volcanoes of the western Mediterranean whose influences are linked with great 'quakes. Near the volcanoes in Italy there have been two disturbances of outstanding horror, the stories of which overshadow even the worst of the reports now being received. The Neapolitan earthquake of 1857 cost 12,000 lives, and that of Messina left a death roll extending to the dreadful total of 77,000.

PALACE AND SLUMS

Those who have been fortunate enough to visit Italy's famous spots will remember the beautiful palace—now practically in ruins—that is the Mecca of every tourist who reaches Naples. Us beauty is set off in pitiful fashion, for it stands in the midst of a particularly bad slum area, and the contrast cannot fail to impress oven the most unobservant of beholders. In such a place and under such conditions the full horror of the earthquake must have been experienced, for nothing is so conducive to panic than a violent trembling of the earth, and the panic of a crowd is akin to madness. One of the features of the early reports of the -latest disaster has been the wide variance in the estimates of fatalities. This is common to such happenings and the chances are that it will be weeks before the full, terrible tale is told. Eearthquakes disrupt news services, together with other services, and the task of telling the world is one thal must be postponed in favour of much more urgent works.

CRICKET AND HISSES* Although most clouds have silver linings, the writers of “The Book of Two Maurices,” which describes the tour of Australia and New Zealand by the English cricket team last season, have seen only the dark side of an occasion on which English players were stoned and hissed by a crowd in Victoria. No one would wish to attempt a defence of such an incident, but a silver lining is apparent if one considers that hisses and stones are outward signs of intense interest in a game that, too often, suffers from lack of public attention. It is true that cricket attracts proportionately large numb A-s of spectators in Ausi tralia and, for the most part, satisfae-) tory numbers in England, but few New Zealanders are carried away by excitement at cricket matches and few, if any, could rouse themselves to the pitch of stone throwing. Though hisses and missiles may be unpleasant, cricketers who were targets have the consolation that they were not boring the onlookers. It is better to be hated than iguored. WRITING SONGS The story of the misfortunes of* a song-writer who was obliged to seek a living as a flower-seller in Wellington reminds one that few New Zealanders have won success or have even attempted to win it in the realm of “popular” song writing. There have been, however, occasional exceptions to this, accompanied by moderate successes. Some years ago Dr. H. Findlay, a Southern Doctor of Science who has the misfortune to be crippled, had published a tuneful foxtrot that was well received. Recently he composed another foxtrot that, probably, is now on the market. In 1926 a song-writer resident in New Zealand set a few catchy verses to music and persuaded a cabaret dance band to play the result. bar by bar, in front of one of the Broadcasting Company’s microphones. As (he baud played ho spoke the words, afterward singing them at the correct tempo. While all this was going on writers at a loud-speaker in Sydney noted the melody and the words. On the following evening a Sydney vaudeville artist sang the song during her performance.