PERSONALITY OF THE WEEK.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIII, Issue 209, 3 September 1932, Page 8

PERSONALITY OF THE WEEK.

Mr. Percy Shaw, Auckland warehouse manager for Messrs. Sargood, bon and i'jweii, lias served the firm for thirtv years—practically his whole working NO. 354. life. Born in Dunedin, he has divided his service between that city, Invercargill and Auckland, returning to this city in 1928. At the Dunedin queen carnival in 1925 Mr. Shaw was crowned king, a distinction testifying to his popularity. He is a member of the Auckland Cricket Association and chairman of the Eden Cricket Club. He is also a trustee of the Commercial Travellers' Association. He! is a member, too, of the Akarana Club and claims to be the world's worst golfer—inquiries elicit the information that the boast is groundless. His tall form may be seen regularly at Eden Park, for he loves "the national game. An anonymous benefactor conveys the information.that in the vicinity of Napier there lives a retired master mariner. The captain lias a farmlet and two RECORD TEST, cows and himself milks them, for rural pursuits are, of course, what the captain left the sea for. He would admit that he is an indifferent persuader, and, indeed, has been in the habit of obtaining minimum results —about half a bucketful from two cows. One day out of a blue sky dropped a stock buyer, a man who has probably taken diplomas in milking , . He found the captain busy with the daffodils and offered to milk Daisy and Buttercup. The cows, responding to a master hand, gave of their best, and the nonchalant stock man returned to the house with the bucket filled and foaming—the foam being new to the j captain, whose wrists are hardly ae expert as those of the man with the milking diploma. The captain gazed in astonishment at the miracle of the foaming bucket. "Good Lord I" he exclaimed. "Wherever did you get all that cream from?" News that a (horse and its rider were brought down during a hunt by a wire hidden in a hedge may remind old horsemen of daring persons who willingly THE TOP WIRE, jump bare wires—a n d sometimes get away with it —the feat, not the wire. There is a photograph still extant of Colonel Logan (who was in charge of the Expedition that occupied Samoa) mounted on a troop horse leaping a six-wire fence with plenty to spare. Most unusual, of course, and invariably dangerous. Still, New Zealand trooi>s in South Africa gained a reputation for intrepid wire-jumping. A contemporary picture shows a long row of gallant troopers, every one in true line, and all riding bareback, leaping gloriously over a seven-wire fence! No, of couife, it was never done, for long before the alleged incident an astute Ohinemuri lad, lacking a regulation wire-cutter, had invented an equally rapid way of getting through wire. He simply held the metal plate of his carbine butt under a taut wire and gave it a quick smack with a sharp bayonet, the new idea being copied throughout the service. There was a hot feeling among hunting people at Home when much hunting country was cut out by barbed-wire fences. Naturally devices for overcoming the handicap were discovered, such as tying a bag on the top wire so that the horse might plainly see the objective, or, alternatively, cutting a stake and strapping it to the wire for the same reason. One ascertains from perusal of a story from Opotiki that a man is looking for his brother's blood. The story is one of misguided generosity, an CHANTICLEER, uncle presenting to his little nephew and niece a bantam cock and hen to celebrate the birthday of one of them. The coop containing the birds was left in the children's bedroom. At break o , day the rooster lustily saluted the dawn —the carol in the confined space of the dormitory sounding like a fowl farm wholly given over to the production of roosters. The ter rifled children, screaming woefully, invaded the parental bedroom. Father, waked from slumber, rose iu wrath, rushed to the coop to stay the clatter, and in his efforts broke the box. The rooster, released, flew to the bedrail, and there shrieked his clarion call—a song of victory over mere man. Emerging through the window into the outer air, the cock screamed defiance. Father followed him over hedge and fence breathing maledictions, his soul black with thoughts of slaying. Aeeompaniecl.by Mrs. Bantam, the rooster proceeded to scratch up a neighbour's newly-sown seed plot. Father returned to the dear old home for his trousers, and when clothed spent a glorious pre-breakfaet hour grabbing at an elusive bird and catching only grass. One regrets to have to announce that the bird won, and father returned to find mother peacefully sleeping, perfectly undisturbed. It is understood that she had had a remarkable dream. She thought she was at a great opera, where all the prima donnas of the world were singing in chorus. As for the uncle who made a present of those birds—just wait till father catches him!