FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 750, 24 August 1929, Page 10

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

By “THE LOOK-OUT MAN.” LEFT COLE

Yes, Sir, —That’s my baby!—A babe-in-arms left in the women’s dressing room of a city theatre had to be pacified by the usher. They go there with odorous unguents, With lipsticks in crimson array, And the scent they dispense is more pungent Than acres of newly-mown hay. Here Dapper and widow and matron Drop in for their running repairs. While their escort, the masculine patron, Is left to his masculine cares. Vet into this sacrosanct closet. This sanctum of feminine charm, A fond mother came to deposit The little chap under her arm. She dumped him right down in the corner, And left him to nibble his thumbs, Nor reck'd if, like little Jack Horner, He brought out a sequence of plums. He wasn’t attached to the ticket That sometimes identifies cloaks, No guardian watched at the wicket — Inside, quite a t ease, were his folks; And if sobs should exude like the gusher That bursts from petroleum wells, Why worry? There’s always the usher To act as the nurse-girl and brush a Salt tear from the source of the yells. McSHOVEL. MANY HAPPY RETURNS The extraordinary acumen of wireless inspectors has been discussed here before. Latest evidence of their astuteness is the prosecution laid against a Wellington listener to whom the local radio announcer had broadcast felicitations on the occasion of the listener’s birthday. Perhaps following a regular practice, the inspectors investigated the celebrant’s position, and discovered that his licence had lapsed. Fined £lO and costs. The next time IYA sends one of those cordial messages to our little Fauntleroy we shall he most annoyed. Last time it was, “Will little Fauntleroy look under the lid of the gramophone, and he w'ill find a Christmas gift?” Next time it may be, “Will little Fauntleroy’s papa look in the letter-box, and he will find a summons.” ON THE HIGHWAY That churlish fellow, the pedestrian, may suspect the North Island Motor Union of ulterior motives when it proposes to help pedestrians to a greater immunity by having them “disciplined,” and so prevented from walking on the roads. Of course, a pedestrian ambling along at the side of the road on a wet night is not easily picked up. If a car with bright headlights happens to be coming the opposite way, the net result is often the sudden exit of the pedestrian from this worldly scheme. In such circumstances the motorist is naturally uncertain whether he should spare a little sorrow for the late Shanks, or reserve all his tears for himself. BLOOD BROKERS Healthy young men actuated by philanthropic or commercial motives can always raise the wind, if need be, by sacrificing a little blood to a hospital patient. There is a good demand for the right “types,” for use in cases where a blood transfusion Is deemed desirable. Overseas, the profession of blood-broking has gained a recognised footing. In New York, one Robert Gardiner, having sold his blood 73 times in nine years, expanded his interests by organising a corps of 300 hefty wharf-lumpers, coal-heavers, truck-drivers, and robust down-and-outs. These he bad scientifically tested, and having proved their capacity he enlisted them in his corps of blood-givers. The result, on a commission basis proved highly satisfactory for blood-broker Gardiner. So much so that finally bis suppliers decided that they should have a larger share of the profits. A standardised rate of 50 dollars a pint, of which the broker takes five dollars for commission, has now been established. THE SOVEREION CURE

History only repeats itself in the case of the Orakei Maoris, with whom the money paid for the site of the model suburb has proved of the “easy come, easy go” variety. It was ever thus with Maori vendors. Sixty years ago, when big land deals were being negotiated in the Southern part of the North Island, huge sums were paid over in cash. At Parewanui, near Bulls, the purchase money for part of the Sandon block was paid in gold in one lump, £25,000 in all. This tremendous sum of gleaming new sovereigns was soon circulating freely in the district. Of a still more distant period, the late Sir John Logan Campbell records having set off to Onehunga to buy some pigs from the local chief. With him as currency he had the usual trade goods—bright linen, beads, knives and so on—but on arrival at Onehunga he found that the chief had come back from a land sale at the Bay of Islands with his pockets, or their equivalents, so full of sovereigns that he was eager to get rid of them. He was eager to buy Dr. Campbell's goods, but instead of giving him pigs he burned to give him sovereigns, part of the money paid for the present site of Auckland.