FROM THE TOWER

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 71, Issue 177, 28 July 1928, Page 6

FROM THE TOWER

(By “SENTINEL”) Daylight-Saving is dead; but those who for sport’s -ako thought well of the innovation may have the benefit m an extra hour of daylight in the evening by a method other than putting on the clock —providing others want more daylight too. Tlfcrc are whole towns, it is said, that would whoop enthusiastically and unitedly for a return of daylight saving. Let them have it. All they have to do is to start work an hour earlier. This might cause complications; but what are com* plications if you get what you want! So mild has been the winter that we read of plums already ripe up on Durie Hill, though it is yet July. Likewise, we read only this week of a Chinese who stored fruit in a dungeon adjoining his bedroom —to ripen it! Hfl kept the gas turned on to give a spring-like impression, thus deceiving the green banana and the immature apple into early succulence. There arc Chinese 1 understand, who store fruit in their bedrooms, even under their beds, so that it will more quickly mature; and when they have visitors, a blanket atop of a few cases of apples or bunches of bananas makes a good enough bed—for a Chinese. Perhaps the fruit tastes none the worse for it, and where ignorance means fruit, ’twere fruitless to be wise. • ♦ • • With the premature, bursting of buds and the golden glory of the wattle already in bloom, there are the usual optimistic prophets forecasting an early spring. They never learn by experience. it often Lappens in New Zealand that a mild winter is followed by a bitter, blusterous spring, as though Nature were determined not to be cheated of her right to inflict discomfort. I wish not to be a Jeremiah, but I have experienced these “early springs” before. Place not too much trust in the gardening notes, or -the “sow early” directions on the pretty I sixpenny packets which contain one | pennyworth of seed. I never plant. |gre.en peas until 1 have eaten some. | The gentleman who picked up a (string of pearls at Ellerslie racecourse and held them for ransom after having ascertained the Gwncr must now wish he had been a better licldcr — quicker on the return. But he seemed to bo ignorant of cricket, for he didn’t “play the game.” Instead, ha took the pearls to a jcwpHer, who valued them at between £2OO and £3OO. It is to be hoped the jeweller did not expect to purchase the pearls at that, price, for when questioned in the Police Court, he revised his valuation, which went up to £990. The Under, who said he held on to the necklace in the hope that the reward would be in-

creased, was committed for trial on a charge of theft. His favourite song in the future will not be “Tho Rosary,’’ with, its melancholy mention of a string of pearls. “Finding’s keeping” may be all very well in a nursery rhyme, but as a motto for adults it is sometimes decidedly dangerous.

The Governor-General is not very tactful in his allusions to Npw Zealand pigs—that is to say, pigs in general; for while he praises one, he leaves it to be inferred that he doesn’t think much of -the others. Having sampled half a side of bacon, presented to him at the recent Palmerston North Show, .Sir Charles referred to it as portion of “an historic jig”—which had been in cold storage for six months before being cured. To that pig, and his breeder and curer, his Excellency “took off his hat.” So the pig was placed on the same high footing as his care-fully-nurtured Irish brother—“the gentlemin that pays the tint.” But what of other Now Zealand pigs, immediately slighted by the Governor-Gen-eral? “This was the first really’ good bacon I had tasted since being in this country,” said Sir Charles. All other pigs throughout the country’, thinking of the slight to their deceased parents, will emit thoroughly disgruntled grunts. But perhaps the GovernorGeneral has stumbled on a great discovery’. It is possible that the secret of producing really good bacon is to place the pig in cold storage six months before curing.

To-night 1 was looking through somfl old papers that bestrew my table in the Tower, when I came upon a delightful dissertation on “electronic transmigrations.” Hero with one slab, or junk:—“The mystery that surrounds the cell matter that forms all living things is astounding when wc consult the tiny atoms and the still smaller electrons. Particles form themselves into a planetary system that is an exact prototype, of our own solar system . . . .” And there is more—miles more. It had been sjent to the “Chronicle” (in the fatally misplaced hope that it would secure publication at the time) by’ “two of the world’s leading Naturopaths, namely, Air Fred J. Huddleston, D.N., D. 0., F.A.N.A., and Air Bert Berentson, F.A.N.A., D.N.T. “ who implored the ailing public of Wanganui to be cured by their ‘‘electronic transmigrations” at a high prieje. These “leading Naturopaths” are now, in vulgar parlance, “doing time” as a. pair of common swindlers, after having imposed on the credulous to the tune of thousands of pounds. The letters after the names of these quacks should have been sufficient to warn the public—“D.N.T.” for instance was plainly “Do Not Trust.” Unfortunately, .any people continue to pay cash tribute t • quacks after they have been swindled again and again: Thus it is that rogues flourish on “easy money.”