THE ELECTIONS.

Lyttelton Times, Volume XXV, Issue 1688, 15 May 1866, Page 2

THE ELECTIONS.

It is well there are no theatres, circusses, or entertainments, acrobats, bearded ladies or blind violinists, just now trying to attract the attention of the Canterbury people, for they would certainly fail. Nothing will go down at present but politics; that is, electioneering politics, They are omnipresent, never to be got rid of, always recognised no matter in what disguise they may be presented. Five or six and twenty years ago the Wellington settlers had no animal food but that which the Maori pig produced. There was pork for breakfast, pork for dinner, and pork for tea. The appetite soon tires of pork; and it became an object with everybody to change the diet. Presently, some of the cleverer cooks began to send up to table fillets of veal, mutton cutlets, stewed beefsteaks, and other great rarities and luxuries for the palate. It was all a cheat j scratch a beefsteak and pork was revealed; the eye was deceived for a moment, but not the palate. This is something like the state of politics during the last few months in Canterbury. We have long been sick and tired of the article in its natural state: it became dry, tough, and insipid; all the raciness thsre used to be in the dish had gone out of it, or else our taste for its pleasures bad perished and gone. Latterly, we have been trying to refresli the appetite by novel preparations. There is, let us say, an Association formed for improving the condition of working men. This is a novelty; and we go to its meetings. " The policy of Messrs. Brown, Jones, and Robinson," candidates for the Provincial Council, is in debate. Only the old pork, after all. The Literary Mutual Admiration Society (limited) has revived itself; and we hope for genial discussions on abstract novelties; such as,—"ls Benevolence to be preferred to Truth?"—or this, "If Oliver Cromwell had been up the oak tree, would he have been more or less visible than Charles ?"—or this, " Does the example of Robin Hood warrant the use of the Long-bow in modern commercial transactions," or anything else of the same refreshing kind. Well, we go to the Literary Mutual Admiration Society's (limited) meeting, and there we find a discussion in full swing on the question whether Mr. Travers is to be believed about Preemptive rights. Pork again. Or perhaps we are filled with a minor missionary fervour, and hasten to aid the Total Abstinence Society in reclaiming the drunkard. But the Total Abstinence Society, when found, is engaged in measuring by its own tape the moral height of the three candidates for the Superintendency, and weighing in its own scales the amount of liquid principle in the eight candidates for the City. Pork, once more; and bad pork, badly cooked. By the way, would not a hygrometer be the best instrument for determining the propensity to litraor in a candidate? We recommend its use as a test much more dependable than the assertions of some people. And so the attempt to make politics palatable went on. A new work from the press proved to be a concoction of politics, cooked to order, by Unscrupulous Hireling, Esq. Attractive posters on the wall, with a faint false air of a coming' Entertainment about them, on inspection solicited our votes for one or other of the candidates. And even when the public were assembled in meetings for the very purpose of political discussion, the speakers took for granted that all the facts and figures and dry arguments were thoroughly well known, and set about enlivening the audience with witty observations upon their antagonists, their avocations, their personal appearance, their wealth, their language, and their grandmothers; on everything but their political ideas. But at last the necessity for disguise has passed away; the period of political agitation is coming to an end. Soon there will be no more pork, so the appetite for the article is reviving. Politics in any shape will go down, without sauce. Politics dry, politics unctuous, politics hilarious, politics savage,-any kind of politics will be greedily swallowed: for to-morrow week will be the Nomination, and to-morrow fortnight the Polling Day for the Superintendency. It is somewhere about six months since the electors first knew that three candidates fori the Chief Magistracy would present themselves; and still the three are in the field. The number suggests a recollection of Thackeray's quaint extempore song, modified for the occasion :

Three candidates, in Christchurch city, They stood for the Superintenden-cee. There was Railway Bill and Squatting Jemmy, And the third was W.T.L.T. The parallel does not go much further, for our William (T.L.T.) can never be called "Billy," still less can he be described as " little Billy which is young and tender; " nor will he be likely to go to the top of the mast or poll. True, tender Billy had a slight knowledge of the "cntichee," obtained in youth from his mother, and his counterpart has a smattering of the Article of the Church on "original sin-," further, Billy of the song found himself in strange foreign countries at the end of his adventures, which may probably be the, fate of W.T.L.T. Very few people know " where to have him," and in six months from the present time it will be as much use looking for him in Christchurch as in Jerusalem and Madagaski, /Inrf North and South Amerikeo. The fact is our William (T.L.T.) is fond of fighting, and would scorn to " undo the button of his ehemie," at tho command of his enemies. Our William (T. L. T') is commonly supposed to have gone into the contest merely for the sake of the scrimmage, and not at all with any hope of success. Our William (T. L. T.) makes slashing speeches, bitter speeches, airily wicked speeches; knows his power, and indulges in its use. He never smiles so sweet a smile as when pitching into friend or foe, except that smile which h

smlles-so saintly, so ecstatic—when his antagonist is trying to pitch into him. But as to winning tho Superintendency of Canterbury our William (T. L*. T.) Ims not an idea of it and never had. He was quite right in the address published yesterday morning—his return is not in the least doubtful; it is one of those things about which thero is no doubt whatever— that it won't happen. Our William (T.L.T.) has ohcok, to think ho can come from anywhere to Canterbury and be eleotedits Superintendent, He will be defeated, »nd ho will stand his defeat like a man. Ho has been defeated at popular elections, seventeen times and a half (the half was a disputed return) and is used to it. Noxt year; he will go to Yankee-land, acquire 'fame and money in his profession at Brassy ton, Ky., stand for the Presidency in 18G8, play the little game of the present day over again, with' North American variations, and be defeated for tho 19* th time. It is curious how Mr. Travers has, without ft shadow of real competition, usurped the post of competitor to Mr. Moorhouse, in place of Mr. Lance, who is backed by a respectable party. Mr. Lance has dwindled out of sight in the contest. He has only been conspicuous, by his absence, at some of the most interesting public meetings in Christchurch. He entered the field a new man in politics, and a sheep-farmer. He claimed the suffrages of flock-masters and their friends, and of those whose turn of mind it is to hope everything from novelty. But squatters and the devotees of hope are a minority in this and other well-ordered communities, and so Mr. Lance had much left to do to win his election. Let us say nothing about committees, managing men, paid canvassers, and the machinery of "organization," about which certain people boast before an election. All these tricks (of which Mr. Lance is as innocent as a lamb) may have secured a few real votes, and caused a belief in hundreds of sham ones. But what has Mr. Lance himself done ? Just this. He has not persuaded one single fresh elector that he has ability enough to compensate for the inexperience which he started with; and he has not developed the slightest sympathy with those other classes of the community with which he happens not to be personallyconnected Now, if a man in Bix months' canvass does not get rid even of the prejudices in the public mind against him, what is the good of him ? Where is his ability ? Where is his talent for guiding and governing men ? We don't want a sham Superintendent. We don't want a stick clothed in blue aud purple and fine linen. We don't want an image to utter oracles dictated from below its pedestal. We don't want a Superintendent put forward by a party, of which he is not the real head. We don't want a Superintendent who is neither capable in himself nor at liberty to take whatever advice the Provincial Council may give him. We don't want a Superintendent to be the tool of an oligarchy. We don't want one whose return is "managed" by committee organisation and paid canvassers, of all which more hereafter. In plain words we don't want anybody's puppet.