Second-hand shops are a perpetual source of pleasure to those who have the time to potter through them, examining the odds and ends of junk and valuables, piled topsy-turvey. There is some peculiar fascination about handling articles which may possibly have passed through famous hands, in examining ornaments worth, perhaps, their weight in gold, or, perhaps, sixpence.
I like to spend an odd half-hour or so among the dust and dimness, and, so engaged a few days ago, I came across a most unusual clock. It was not particularly old, dating, perhaps, from the early days of electricity, but it was novel enough to continue to attract attention.
In shape it was rather like a small telescope, mounted on a six-inch square box. At one end of the brass telescope tube there was a quite ordinary clock, at the other end a thick lens. Wires led into the tube, connecting a battery with two small bulbs. The idea was that the clock could throw the time on to the wall or ceiling; in other words, you could have a fine, big wall-clock without the handicap of size. The connection was made with the battery, and, probably by mirrors, the position of the hands was reflected and enlarged through the lens.
I did not see the marvel in action, because there was neither battery or bulbs. No, I did not buy it either, I severely cast aside the temptation, when I remembered all the clocks, going and stopped, that were already in the house.
The Irish Times, October 23rd, 1939.