CLIPPINGS.

Mount Ida Chronicle, Volume XII, Issue 645, 11 February 1882, Page 2 (Supplement)

CLIPPINGS.

j (From the Sydney Bulletin.) ! There is a story—and a true one—about Farley, the well-known baritone, that comes from Gympie (Q). At the time when he was accompanying Miss Christian on her Queensland tour, he stopped for a few days at the above Northern goldfield. Through part curiosity and desire he determined to have a look over some of the mines, then so rich on payable gold, and upon the wish of one of the managers he chose the Smithliejd mine for the first trip below. Equipped for the journey, he stood in readiness at the mouth of the pit—not so much like the Mephistopheles as one would desire—and was the last to step into the bucket. With one hand clasping the rope low down, the other hand above holding the miner's lamp, Ins first fears were dispelled when he found all going so safely. Suddenly the manager cast his eyes above—awful sight, but trueFarley holding the rope like grim death, and his lamp so close to the rope that the flame was quietly eating the shreds, and would soon weaken, consequently, the staying power of Farley and his crew. There was no noise then—but action. Out went the lamp, somebody lost a hat, and if ever the heart of Edward Farley was in his mouth, it was at that time, and he wondered if the rope would last until the bucket reached the bottom of the mine.

. THE YELLOW AGONY. In vain doth our Muse curl her nostrils and sneeze, ■»«<*, Our obstinate Pegasus snuffle and wheeze. With grip as of iron the bridle we seize. And gallop hira straight at tlie'subjact-Cliinese. The peaceful Mongolian grows taters and peas, Hn , J P i maC */ U , d lo , ttu ce, and prime cabbngeos; < Ho seldom gets drunk, never lias tlie D,T. 's. But he smells worse than Captain Mayue Roid's Ulierokeos.

Tn hundreds and thousands they land on our quays ■ •"■ *• (Their persons asylums for vermin arid fleas), riie goblet ot sorrow we've drained to the lees • bay, what shall we do with these Heathen Chinese ? like Sinbad the Sailor's Old Man of the Seas, lltoso almon eyed, amber-hued, apish Chinoso .Bestride us, oh! agony of agonees! (Bad metre? well, certainly, rather a squeeze). Commissioners sat and have pocketed fees And gobbled huge slices of Government cheese. I he bobbies have bustled as busy as bees Exploring the haunts of the H eathen Chinose. In intervals sober, 'twixt orgios aud sprees, Reporters have written our marrow to freeze, Accounts which induce us our Q's and our P's To mind when we wandor among the Chinese. But their perfume still floats upon zephvr and breeze; We've vented our anger in impotent D s* We'Vo nearly lost hope, whicn in Latin is apes: fehall we ever get' clear of those awful Chinose ? Let's hope that Smith's projoct the Synod will Arid the Rubric itself bo reformed by degrees A prayer might be added with infinite ease, iimbraced and embodied in stanzas like those: \ S rom Uiltrea " ant l malice," deliver us, pleaso, From battle and murder," from death and ■disease; " From perils by land, and from perils by seas; Horn heresy schism," and—Heathen Chinese!