GOSSIP AND NOTES.

Press, Volume LIV, Issue 9669, 6 March 1897, Page 8

GOSSIP AND NOTES.

An energetic tradesman quoted by the Bulletin, relates that he was offered the legend, " Purveyor to His Excellency the Governor "of one of the Australia), by a member of said Excellency's domestic retinue, for £2 10s cash. Catherine Helen Spence, the only Australian woman candidate for the Federal Convention, is, although about seventy years of age, one of the most vigorous of South Australian politicians and as brainy a3 most of the other candidates. Miss Spence is a thorough democrat, and considers. " one adult one vote " as the Federal franchise the vital question. She has been a leader writer on the South Australian Register for years past. According to advices from San Francisco up to date (remarks an Australian paper) Butler's defence is as follows:—(1) He knows nothing about Lee Weller: (2) He was not in Australia at the time of Weller's death ; (3) He went out prospecting with Weller and another man, and Weller was accidentally shot—at least the other man said so; (4) He knew Lee Weller, but never went prospecting with him; (5) Lee Weller was killed by two men, whose names he will disclose later on ; (6) He is Lee Weller himself, and it is Butler who is missing. The curious manner in which cable codes are drawn up was graphically illustrated in a recent cablegram announcing the loss of a ship by fire at sea. The whole news was conveyed in three words (Scott's code) :— " Smouldered, hurrah, hallelujah." " Smouldered" stands for " the ship has been destroyed by fire," " hurrah" for " crew saved by boats," and " hallelujah" for *' all hands saved—inform wives and sweethearts." — j Weekly Commercial News. \ The Bulletin has a gloomy idea that, when the numbers go up, all the Australasian Premiers, every man-jack of them, will be found grovelling in person at the feet of Queen Victoria, at the record reign celebration. There are some " big " men who talk Republicanism under their breath, but this paper only knows one Australasian politician who, from a national point of view, is solid —he has the right kind of wife. You can tell what a man sincerely believes from what his wife believes. "The .greatest disgrace into which my, husband could fall would be the acceptance of a title/ says the wife of that politician almost fiercely, "for it would mean the utter abandonment of principle, the turning of his back upon himself. Ho is a Republican to the core, and I am a Republican. For him to take a title would mean the utter defilement of our life." Who is this austere patriot ? Talking of the pot hat of our early love, the TFar.7touf.man and Draper says that the tall head covering was invented by Hetherington. He was a sane hatter of the Strand. "He conceived the idea that a tall silk hat would prove a most becoming addition to a gentleman's attire, and, acting upon the thought, called on Winkle and Co., of Fleet street, who, at that time, were purveyors to the Royal Family, and from the Elans which Hetherington laid down, the rm built a hat at a cost of £2." He was an architect, not only of a bat, .bat of a "pile for himself. Generous examples are all too few. But the will of Mr Walter Henry Pierce supplies one which will evoke admiration. Mr Pierce was President of tho Walter Baker Chocolate Compauy, Boston,. U.S. Chocolate paid well. He left over a million sterling among his employees, relatives aad various religious and charitable institutions. One hundred thousand pounds was bequeathed to the family of Thomts Bailey Aldrich, the poet, whose works the chocolate king admired. This action is worthy of emulation. Miss Florence Marryat is about to start a training school for novelists of all sexes. A preparatory College for journalists was devised some ten years ago by an enterprising Hebrew gentleman with a Scottish alias. There was a leader-writer's class, and exercises used to be composed by the pupils, which the 'enterprising pedagogue afterwards disposed of to one of the minor papers. I fancy (says the London correspondent of the Argus) leader-writers now go wholly untrained, and the College is closed. So much realism enters into the writing of novels that -a school with a gymnasium attached seems indispensable. Thirty-four years ago I saw a good deal of Miss Florence Marryat, then Mrs Church; her husband was a mild, pretty, little man —very burnt and " livery " from service in India—an adjutant of Militia. They had several children. Nowadays, I often come across Miss Florence Marryat's last husband ; a very tall, handsome man, a colonel this time. As the gifted novelist is not vet dead, it would be premature to give her biography in fulL A dramatic version of Miss Marie Corelli's " Sorrows of Satan," has been produced at the Shaftesbury Theatre, London. It was rather an original idea of the authoress of the novel to describe Satan as cruelly bored by the monotony of his occupation. It is known (says the Argus correspondent) that the Queen has read Marie Corelli's novels, so that is in itself an advertisement of priceless value. It happened thus. One year when the Queen was on her way to the Riviera the astute Marie, with considerable ingenuity, managed to have a selection of > her novels placed in a corner of the railway \ carriage which her Majesty was to travel in from Paris to the South. The French officials imagined that they were Blue Books, which was partly correct. The Queen, how- : ever, did undoubtedly read one or two of them, and the fact became known. The 1 most "awful" of Marie Corelli's recent ' novels hia been published anonymously. ' Henry Lawson writes regarding the Bosh 'i and the Ideal:—"British ignorance of i At-rttalia is certainly no greater than the 1 coastal Australian's ignorance of the Aus- ] trahaa back country. The people of our ■ ekies look at the bush proper through the i green spectacles of bush bards and new t ckum Press-writers, and are content— i wisely, if they knew it—to sit down all their 3 Uvea on the run of Australia." J "No one who has not been there can i realise the awful desolation of Out-Back in 1 orduuuy seasons- few even of those who < _-_~ * !m ,pped Vhete caa -«d-*» it. «Ot» i „__s_t__£S__ iM .* t^ i ? 1 i«wh.'» •_»»•• «

forest, an ' African' desert; but not a mighty stretch of country which is neither desert, nor fertile land, nor -anything else yon can think of—except thousands of miles of S atony scrub. A region which is not quite esert enough to be provided with oases, nor tolerable enough to have permanent rivers. A region where there are no seasons to speak of; where the surface will bake for nine months or a year, and then suddenly become a boundless marsh ; where the single river, flowing between drought-baked banks and under blazing skies, will rise from a muddy gutter to a second Mississippi, because of the Northern rains. A country where human life can just exist; a country that carries sheep with difficulty in fair seasons—though at first sight you would think it incapable of carrying goats at its best—and their worst." Dean Farrar contributes his reminiscences of Browning to the Temple Magazine for February. He tells us that Browning was very fond of society and of dining out; so much so that Lord Tennyson, who was very much more of a recluse, used laughingly to say to him that he would die in an evening dress suit. But the reason of Browning's fondness for society was that he used to read in the minds of men as in a book. Human beings of every type were to him like manuscripts of infinite variety, and worth the most careful study. He could never be dull in human company. Dean Farrar once asked him about "The Steed which Brought Good News from Ghent," and whether the incident had any historic basis ; for I told him that a friend of mine had taken very considerable trouble to search various histories and discover whether it was true or not. " No," he said, the whole poem was purely imaginary. I had had a long voyage in a sailing vessel (I think it was from Messina to Naples), and, being rather tired of the monotony, thought of a good horse of mine, and how much I should enjoy a quick ride. As I could not ride in reality, I thought that I would enjoy a ride in imagination;" and he then and there wrote that most popular of his lyrics.