BY THE WAY.

Hawke's Bay Tribune, Volume II, Issue 176, 10 July 1912, Page 3

BY THE WAY.

(Ry

“Passager“).

In the Course of his dialectic triumph upon the occasion of the Address-in-Reply, Mr. J. Vigor Brown, made some remarks upon the indolence of the squatter and the bibulous habits of the squatter’s sheep which are worthy of attention. Mr. Brown assured the House that these men made money while they slept—“ God Almighty had sent down the rain and the sheep had eaten it.” This charming illustration of the ease of the squatter’s existence has constrained me to attempt to woo the muse. When Vigor told the Parliament Just how to run the nation, And about the Body Politic Gave ample information, The wicked grasping farmer Must have trembled sore to hear, Monopoly of land denounced By monopoly of beer. Why,—the very sheep that wandered, Over hill, and dale and plain, Too lazy were to eat the grass, And just lived on the rain. They never even make the rain Like Vigor makes his beer, But rob a kindly Providence Without a single tear.

No sooner does the Lord send down A shower the land to sweeten, Than the squatters’ thirsty baa-lambs come, And lo! the shower is eaten.

And could it really be believed, Fat owners of the sheep, Never watch the flocks when on the spree. But just go off to sleep? They never have the nightmare, nor Uneasiness in slumber, Nor even dream about the sheep Increasing in their number. Each squatter folds his sinful hands Across his silken nightie ; Never worries of the day to come, Leaves all to the Almighty. They never do a thing that’s right. Or really what they ought ter ; Never worry how to make their pile By selling hops and water. They leave to hard-worked Nature What er’er there is of toil, And lie in slothful laziness, In enjoyment of their spoil.

Vet Vigor with his eloquence Can gain the public ear, He’ll bump up taxes on the land, And take them off the beer. Why should the farmer’s lazy sheep Do all the bloomin’ swilling, On Mountain dew and summer shower, Whbn “White Swan” ’s much more killing ?

Good Vigor in his wisdom, Should petition the Almighty, To stop the baa-lambs’ free supply, Or sprinkle it more lightly. It does not give the man a chance, Who in beer has sunk his money, To live in a community That flows with rain for bunny. A law should be enacted, — Aye; be passed this very year, To twist the farmers’ lazy tail And protect the man of Beer. CHEERS AND GROANS. There was once a time when Dannevirke was proud to be known as a “Liberal stronghold.” In the days of Seddon and Charlie Hall the good residents of Sawdustopolis refused to even dream of a Conservative reigning as member for the district. But the passing of the sawmill has witnessed the passing of the “Liberal” ' Seddon is dead, Charlie Hall in retirement and the nabob of Porangahau is cheered as his carriage (viz., the Massey Government’s railway carriage) sweeps in the majesty of all its new-born dignity through the fine red-tiled station which the people weedled from Sir Joseph Ward. Just what part Mr. George Hunter took in upsetting the Liberal regime is not quite clear, but he must have done something or the Danevirke electors would not have cheered. Perchance time will unfold the mystery. Passing explanation may be found for the outburst in the fact that the member for Waipawa had the courage to travel in the same train as the mem--ber for Grey Lynn. At any rate the people cheered George and groaned at John. According to report the cheers left George speechless, but the groans acted like a tonic on John, and he informed the people who were dispensing hot air that they would have to take it back some day. Some people may detect a little injustice in this demonstration. So there is. The pledge-breaker deserved his groans, but the Nabob had done nothing to deserve his cheers. APROPOS OF DESERTS. No one can or will deny that W. F. Massey deserves the victory he won last week. It may be that he is not a front rank statesman. It may be that he is somewhat limited in the scope of his powers. But when we look at the “fight,” the bull-clog pluck, the incessant watchfulness that the new Premier has displayed it is impossible to hold back the admission that he was entitled to a win. For pretty well 20 years the Franklin farmer has sat m Opposition and fought the Government. Day in, day out, night after night he has nagged about j waste, growled about maladminis- | tration, deplored borrowing, scold- | ed insincerity, and protested against i the ruin of the country. Under the ■ sledge hammer tactics of Seddon. old Bill plugged away undismayed and unshaken. He tripped and stumbled amidst the subtleties of Wardism, but battered, bruised and frustrated though he was lie always won back to his starting point and plugged away again. Other members of his party might lose heart and slacken vigilance, but not so Massey. Hopeless minority or not he was there to tell his old. old story about the wickedness of Government. He told it so often that be began to partly believe it himself. Seddon and Ward “downed” him, but they could not damn him. He had no Imperial Conferences, no birthday honours, nor opportun’ty to rub skirts with Royalty, but he still •’plugged away." The great Chinese philosopher said that our greatest glory is not to conquer, but to rise every time we fall. That ’s what Massey did. He came out of his corner smiling every time. lie took all the ' gruel" that was coming his way and looked for more. Ifi

the House wanted an all-night sitting he was ready to work overtime with the best of them, and as long as any member of the Government had the courage or physical stamnia to hold Out Massey would repeat his old story. Massey eventually became to be looked upon as inevitable —something like the first of the month, the laws of gravitation, the public debt, the poor, or other things which it is ordained should be always with us. In fact, in the political durability test Massey stands unbeaten. He is not a fast car, but you can’t stop his engine.