The Globe. TUESDAY, APRIL 29, 1879.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1619, 29 April 1879, Page 2

The Globe. TUESDAY, APRIL 29, 1879.

The usual list of infectious diseases laid before the Board of Health yesterday reveals a very undesirable state of things. Typhoid fever, it will bo seen, is more than usually rife, there being no loss than thirty-three cases for the month. Perhaps the cause of the prevalence of this disease may be traced to the complaint read at the same meeting as to the practice of placing garden manure on the top of the soil, and thus to a certain extent, poisoning the air. It will be at once conceded that no more fertile source of typhoid exists than decomposed matter, particularly animal matter. As this is extensively used by the mongolian gardeners in the neighbourhood of Christchurch, it is easy to account for the groat increase in the cases. It will, therefore, behove the Inspector of Nuisances to keep a vigilant eye upon the market gardeners, more especially those of the “ Heathen (Chinee” description. To place, as they do, fertilising agents of all kinds on the top of the soil, is to spread disease around, and to turn their gardens into so many agents for the production of typhoid fever. As this comes more especially under the province of the Inspector of the Board of Health, he will, it is to bo trusted, make it his duty to pay regular and frequent visits to the spots noticed as being more particularly places over which supervision should bo exercised. Unfortunately, death has resuited in the neighbourhood already, so that no time must bo lost in preventing if possible further mortality from this cause.

In the burlesque of Moore’s beautiful “Lalla Rookb” there is a character of the heaviest villain type. This gentleman, when his career of crime is cut short by the law, is asked whether he acknowledges his many misdeeds or not. His reply is characteristic of the man. “ Guilty,” replies he, with a fierce melodramatic scowl, “and I glories in it.” Our contemporary the “ Lyttelton Times ” this morning fills the role of Khorsanhad in the burlesque referred to with great eclat. Detected red-handed in the purloining of other people’s telegrams and serving them up to the confiding public as its own, it now boldly avows its fault and glories in it. Nevertheless, public opinion has boon too strong for our contemporary, and it has now announced its intention of so far recoding from its hitherto discreditable position as to acknowledge the source of any tologx’apbic intelligence when it is filched from the papers connected with ourselves. The public will now bo enabled to soo bow much of its cablenows our contemporary owes to the enterprise of others. Instead of items being trumpeted forth as “ Specials,” they will appear under a beading more consonant with truth. How far it is agreeable with tho principles that should prevail in commercial intercourse to take those telegrams at all, is, of course, another and

different question. It certainly lies within (lie four corners of the law to use all telegrams published in the papers, but such a practice must cramp newspaper enterprise, and the public must suffer in the long run. But the “Lyttelton Times,” by its newly adopted course of action, at least removes one most glaring scandal from its pages.

OiTR friend— if ho will allow us to call him so —Councillor Cass, has once more come to the front. Last evening, in the Council, ho gave his follow members not only a rich literary treat in the shape of a speech dealing with all the “ ologies” under the sun, but also made a statement which must add yet further lustre to the glories of the Christchurch City Council. That body has now the distinguished honor of numbering amongst its members one who stands apart from his follow citizens on an exalted pedestal from which he can afford to regard with a selfsatisfied smile the puny pigmies, intellectually speaking, with whom it is his misfortune to bo associated. That man, that transcondant genius, is Councillor Cass. Ho, with that modesty and unassuming manner which is the mint mark of true genius, tolls us that he Is fifty years in advance of tins prosaic ago. Councillor Cass, with the prophetic fire which animated his glorious predecessors in art, in science, and in song, looks far ahead into the misty vale of years and sees much that is denied to common mortals. It is sad indeed that ho should live in those degenerate days. Had it boon his good fortune to llourish under the old Roman Empire ho would have been set up on high and crowned with laurel. As it is, only a City Councillbrship is open to him, and the wings of his Pegasus are clipped. What then is left to this distinguished yet illtreated man ? Lot him appeal to the vox 2^opuli which wo are told is also the VOX D< i. His mission is evidently to inform the minds of men on a groat variety of subjects, and how better can ho do this than by addressing a public mooting and showing incontestably how far his gigantic intellect is above that of those with whom it is his unhappy lot to bo connected. Possibly oven hero the malevolence of ignorance may persecute him, but what of that. Croat men like Councillor Cass have over had the courage to maintain their opinions against all odds, even to the extent of suffering at the stake.