Men from Many Harbours. Peeps at the Harbour Conferenee ..Dinner ..

Free Lance, Volume VIII, Issue 383, 2 November 1907, Page 17

Men from Many Harbours. Peeps at the Harbour Conference ..Dinner ..

WELLINGTON'S harboui is second to none south of the line ; everyone knows that. Wellington's Harbour Board is easily first m the colonies ; if everyone didn't know that before last Wednesday, they had ample opportunity for making the discovery when the chairman of the Board, the Hon. T. Kennedy Macdonold, entertained the visiting delegates to the Harbour Board's Conference at a dinner m the Wellington Town Hall. It was a famous gathering. Before they entered the hall of feasting, they were photographed outside the Town Hall portico. That picture will live in history. Every man in the group has either made his mark on New Zealand's sci oil of fame, or is busy making it to-day. They were giants, either of intellect stature, or appetite; and the spectacle m the dinmg-hall was a moving one. It moved to the extent of some three courses, with champagne and cigars over and above the deal. • • • We said that the Hon T Kennedy Macdionald gave the dinneT? Weld, so he did, and he occupied the seat of honour. "Oh, he's little, but he's wise." He looked just the thing. On his right hand at the table sat Sir Joseph Ward, and on his left the Hon. the Minister of Marine, yet Kien,nedv Macdonald was paramount. He positively shone. His was the stentorian voice which silenced the sacrilegious musicians in the gallery, who attempted to parade their skill and get on the flute while the meenister wanted to say grace. It was "Kennedy Mac" who struck a magnificent attitude, and, with champagne glass sparkling aloft, cried to the willing assembly "Gentlemen, the King!" It was the chairman also who was outwitted in manoeuvre by a tricky pfece of port-wine jelly. It played fa-st and loose with the Hon. T. X., and at last was run to corner in a fold of his serviette. But, it

was humorous to see the austere gentleman bending down, his head between his knees, the veins in his forehead standing out with anxiety like whipcords, and his monocle dangling floorwards. The Hon. T. K. is not to be beaten— not even by port-wine jelly. Sir Joseph Ward was conspicuous. He always is, but on this famous occasion he had to go all out to beat I.JS-. He managed it When the singing oame on, Sir Joseph led the chorus. He was in excellent voice, of rare timbre his tipper notes being particularly clear and true. Sir Joseph started "For he's a jolly good fellow! on three distinct occasions, and even the fiddlers in thji gallery were lost. They gasped astonishment and came up the straight when the Premier was

weighing in. He has a good style at singing. He doesn't open his moutb like an Arthur's Pass railway tunnel. He just curls his lower lip. smiles ecstatically, holding his glass in one hand and a cigar in the other, and warbles. Sir Joseph spoke some, and was also conspicuous an that he drank out of an ordmarv tumbler. Everyone else had a wine glass. • • • The Hon. A. J. Millar came late. He was hot and perspiring, and when Dt. Findlay greeted him with the news +.W he was down to speak, he said,

"No feat '' But, if there was no feai, theie was plenty of danger, and he spoke, and spoke well. But then, he had fed considerably before the time for talking came. Somebody near us said "My woad, but MJr. Millar takes big bites'" Maybe it was

m a political or a Pickwickian sense, but, at any rate, tEe hon. gentleman discussed the leg of a turkey with all the ability of a finished worker, leaving it piled up on his plate as high and dry as any craft that was ever run ashore. Mr. Millar interested the crowd with a talk on lighthouses — he wants to build one a year around our coast. He is a big man, with big ideas, and a big heart for the mariner and worker. • * • We were almost forgetting the Rev. J. Paterson, and no wonder. He was hard to locate. After he had made the invocation, commonly called grace, he settled down at the end of the head table. A dazzling light shone on him from the window at his back, and when he got to work he seemed away in the clouds. We

caught sight of him onoe worrying a piece of ox tongue, cut irregularly. It was like a beatific vision, and he was enveloped in a veritable mist of steam from the hot new potatoes on his plate. Towards the end of the feast he came back to earth, for we looked again and he was dealing m "trifle " * • • The two jesters at this glorious feast were Dt. Findlay and Mr. Massey. They were hiding behind an epergne of flowers and seemed to be getting fun out of everyone present. I>r. Findlay was continually whispering in Mr. Massev's ear, and

the Opposition leader now and then smiled audibly. Once or twice, however, he looked annoyed, as though the sanctity of his inner man was being encroached upon. These two enjoyed the feast. Mr. Massey got off some splendid hits during his speech, and received an ovation. • • • We were struck on entering the dining-hall door by the appearance of "lord" Hamilton Grimer. There was a look of "Your Serene Highness" about him, as though he was unused

to the commonplace affairs of soups and champagne. On approaching tne door, he raised his eyes to look about him, and said- "Is this the place?" He looked indifferent about eating, yet when he faced the barrier he got away to a nice clean start, and finished strongly.

Inspector Ellison was there. News had probably been flashed to headquarters that the Harbour Board were m for a struggle at the Town Hall, and this official came down post haste. He was in plain clothes, yet even this fact did not detract from his official dignity. He could not look plain.

See him handle a cigar — there's a finish about the man. He has a certain mien — almost pomposity, some would suggest — with his head thrown back as he sat at the table. His eyes impelled order as he looked about the tables, and there was peace.

The man of the moment was thereMr. "Willie" Ferguson. Wasn't it

strange that the musicians played Tosti's "Good-bye" to the Harbour Board. Mr. Ferguson looked up at the gallery with a smile on his features, as though he knew something, and then the flute, harp, sackbut, _ dulcimer, and all kinds of musical instruments sailed into, "0, Dry Those Tears." Now, people may say what they like, but there was prophecy in those musical numbers. The Harbour Board's tears are dried, and the Gas Company are singing, "Clouds will be sunshine to-morrow." • • • Mr. George Laurenson also spoke. He began by saying that he would not

say much. Somehow, that is invariably a bad sign. The company filled their glases. lit their cigars, and settled down for the afternoon. Meanwhile, Greo. Laurenson talked on. He had had dinner, and was tired — that is, in so far as physical exertion was possible. But, he battled through to the end, with a steadfast, set look about his eyes, and his head thrust across the table in a determined fashion . • • • One of the "studies" in this company was Mt. R. Fletcher. Mr.

Ferguson is the man. of the moment, but Mr. Fletcher is the man of the day — or the year. He runs on wheels, he raises the men's wages

where possible, and a week ago, _ according to some scribes, he xaiaed "Gain" m the Harbour Board. Bat, It. Fletcher proved an alibi, or sons equally sound vindication. At' this feast, he looked content on all tb* world, and when the chairman's health was drunk his glass was raised as higil as any, and his voice told all th* world that Kennedy Mac was "a jolly good fellow." • < • Sitting nea.r Mr. Fletcher was Mr. "Red Funnel" Kennedy. When tb» smging was goinsr on, Mr. W. Kennedy smoked quietly, musingly, with a far-

away look in his eye. He had goao again in mental vision to the islands of the Pacific, and he was listening to>the girls of Samoa sanging. Sir Joseph Ward sang well, but, ah, there are other singers m other climes. Mr. Kennedy woke up from Samoa, with &v& v start that nearly bumped his heaefc against a neighbouring pillar. • • * The most southern Harbour Board chairman in the Dominion was there. His name is Watson. Mr. Masse j said that he very properly represented Bluff. At any rate, he was bluff, hearty, and something over six feeifc in height. He has long, beetling eyebrows, and a determined, all-round moustache. He looks like a wellarmed turret ship, with guns protruding on every side. But, he talked

like a book. His arms work like a windmill when he gets going, and those listening beneath him involuntarily shrink in fear, as though they would dive under the table, osr be knocked under. This gentleman says that the Southerners hold a first mortgage over the Premier. • • • Another man with beetling brows and a head that shone in the light of the window like the mosque of Omar was John McLellan. His (head shone, and it was as well. Otherwise, ,he

might not have been seen, for clouds and darkness were ahead of him. He smoked like a four-funnelled turbine steamer. His bulk loomed through the gathering clouds like a steamer in a fog. He sat motionless, but impressive, and fairly adorned his end of the table. • • • At two o'clock the party broke up, and wemt their ways — some to Parliament, some to their places of business, and others to talk tides, bars, harbours, and lights, till the clock sent them away to dinner again.

Those in search of seasonable gifts are directed to their desired haven by an advertisement in this issue. Th# Christmas gift season is upon us, and at Craigs, in Manners-street, a speciality is being made of the choicest lines in British art and workmanship, as well as first-class examples of pottery, china, etc.