A HAPPY PREMIER. SONGS IN THE STARLIGHT.

Evening Post, Volume LXX, Issue 147, 19 December 1905, Page 7

A HAPPY PREMIER. SONGS IN THE STARLIGHT.

""* A SOLO CONCERT. " Anyone who remembers the Premier's •illness of eighteen months ago would have been astonished, if they had travelled with him on the Rotomahana from Lyttelton to AVellington last night, at the amazing recrudescence of a rude and youthful health, and a care-free boisterousness and serenity of spirit, which makes him to-day one of the gayest individuals in His Majesty's Dominions. Gay on his trip down from Wellington, buoyant and even flamboyant during the Exhibition function yesterday, hisspirits reached, a climax when he found the wharves of Lyttelton slipping sternwards as the steamer sailed at dusk. His departure was anything but commonplace. He leaned over the rail as the lines were cast off, and a perfervid supporter at once became conspicuous amongst the crowd o& the wharf. "Misaer Seddon," he said, in an unsteady voice, "I want to tell you — •" "Get off the wharf," said the Premier; "go home." "But j'ou have done more for tho country than anybody," complained the rebuffed admirer. "I say, you're all right." The steamer began to slide along the side of the wharf, and the Premier continued his conversation with a knot of his lady friends. "Three cheers for the Seddon," yelled the man on the wharf, amidst the encouraging howls of the populace ; "I mean, three Seddons," and he glared at the crowd. "Three cheers for the Premier," and with lusty "Hip, hips," and long-drawn "Hoorays," he made a solo demonstration. The Premier nodded his head. "Come on, chaps," cried the Seddonite, "three cheers," and he pulled out two handkerchiefs, and proceeded along the wharf waving his white flags and emitting soulstirring cheers, balancing himself gingerly on the edge of the decking. The Premier solemnly brooded upon him. His lusty solos continued till the end of the wharf stopped him. "Three Kings for — " and a roar of laughter drowned the rest of it. "I've given you a solo on me own, anyhow, Kin^g Dick," he cried, and as the steamer slid through the purple haze and the starlight, faint cheers interspersed with hiccups floated over the shiny waters. On board, when the wharves were dull, dark masses in the starlight, the Premier, with the Native Minister and three or four la-dies for audience, burst into song. He sang "The Old Kentucky Home" with much feeling, and in a very pleasant baritone, and the passengers gathered on the smokingroom deck, and gazed on the scene spellbound. A hearty round of applause caused the Premier to look up astonished, but quite unperturbed he gave a vigorous rendering of "Belle Mahone," and "Good Old Jeff," and his starlight serenade brought the passengers trooping to audience. "What's that song about "Old Joe?" he asked, and a moment later his voice floated over the water is a lilting rollicking lyric to a galloping tempo. And then he explained it. Years ago, when in Palmerston South, he was at a gathering of the clans of Sir John Mackenzie. He had asserted his knowledge of Gaelic, and some ancient tiller of the soil at once roared a Gaelic song. "It was this," said the Premier, and he carrolled a weird gibberish. "Now," the old Celt had said, "Ye say ye know Gaelic. Take it out of that." But our resourceful Premier was not dismayed by such a trivial challenge. He had, so he said, at once sung a song (which he repeated at great length, and very musically), and he delivered the galloping gibberish already referred to. "And I said," he concluded, 'Take it out of that.'" His .audience, leaning on the steamer's rails, chuckled delightedly. "And," said-, the Premier impressively, "it wasn't Gaelic at all." Then he broke into -further song, and the concert Continued until supper time in the romantic softness of tne stariight on the sea. And, happy and chuckling, and obviously free from anything like care, the Premier adjourned the proceedings.