FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 1082, 20 September 1930, Page 8

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

By “THE LOOK-OUT MAN.” A WAGER There is so much wealth in Tibet, according to our morning con tern por- ; ary, that it could wipe off Australia’s j debt by handing over the lump sum j of £1,800,000,000 in gold. Fin told That there's so much gold In Tibet That the Lamas could pay Any day The whole of Australia’s debt; But they won’t pay a shilling— On that I am willing Tibet. THE POWER OF MUSIC Thirty guarantors of Music Week in Christchurch are to be called on to pay up £IOO between them in order to make up the deficit. This is where the guarantors have first-hand opportunity to learn the truth of the ancient myth that music hath charms to sooth the savage breast. VERSA TILE BATSMA X The versatility of the great Don Bradman is illustrated by the ease with which he entered the recording department of a London gramophone company, reeled off a couple* of neat little pianoforte studies of his own composition, followed them up with a dissertation on the art of batting, and completed his morning’s work by exchanging bright repartee with Walter Lindrum, the billiards player. Much as one admires Bradman, he is getting far too good to be true. The tales of this Admirable Crichton and his moneymaking powers, apart altogether from his musical talents and his sparkling conversation, will replace our admiration with envy. The next thing, he will be breaking forth into song, and gramophone companies will be issuing a new classic “Don Bradman’s Serenade.” REA SRURING People contemplating ringing up their friends in Korea, Cardiff, and the wilds of Siberia per the long-dis-tance wireless telephone will be relieved to read the assurances of an Australian official that the fact that the whole world can, if it likes, listenin to such conversations won’t matter, as “only one side of the conversation will be heard, and the listeners-in won’t know who is speaking.” This may be perfectly true, but it doesn’t sound altogether logical. Why will listeners-in be able to hear only one side of the conversation? And if they do hear only one side, why should that alone not be embarrassing. Usually when one rings up, one says from force of habit: • ‘Ts that Joe Mac Flynn? Is that you Joe? Tom O’Haggis here.” Doubtless the same essential formula is used in the case of the long-distance telephone, and it seems to us that anybody who couldn’t ! identify the conversationalists from that should be in a home for the mentally deficient. A QUIET DAY Yesterday was . one of those very rare days, an occasion when the Auckland wharves were practically bereft of shipping. It also happened to be one of the rare days when a city toiler, having a few minutes to spare at lunch-time, said to himself, “Now I will just take advantage of the sunshine and stroll down to the wharf to have a look at the shipping.” When he got there, the only active shipping in sight consisted of ferry boats. The wharves were spaciously empty, and the only craft that interrupted the long perspectives were the Kaimiro, away over at King’s Wharf, and the Te Awliina. *A holy quiet pervaded the scene, and the man who wanted to see the shipping almost involuntarily tip-toed as he strolled along the Queen’s Wharf and admired the lines of that sturdy craft, the Te Awhina. Usually the Te Awhina doesn’t get much attention from people who frequent the waterfront. There is too much competition. But yester*day she had the field to herself, and several people made the unexpected discovery that she is quite an interesting little ship. 9 ILL OMEN In spite of deputations taken to Ministers by well-meaning and sincere reformers, the habit of indulging in light speculation remains firmly implanted in the breasts of the great New Zealand public. Evidently our fame as a nation addicted to the racecourse, the Art Union, the raffle, and other means of getting rich slowly has spread to far corners of the earth. At any rate, prominent citizens have lately been receiving small books of tickets in a gigantic lottery being run in aid of an Irish Hospital. The fortunate person who draws the number of a horse running in a race at Manchester in November will collect £50,000. Other prizes will bring the total dispersed to £ 100,000. Even the man who sells the winning ticket isn't forgotten. He gets £1,200. Hence recipients of the books have been making great efforts. “Certainly I’ll have a ticket ’ said one man. Then he looked closer at the printed slip. ‘‘An Irish art union. Good Lord, no. Not for mine. Think what happened to the Shamrock.”