KARANAHPE ROAD ON SATURDAY NIGHT.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLV, Issue 13674, 15 February 1908, Page 1 (Supplement)

KARANAHPE ROAD ON SATURDAY NIGHT.

BY QUI VIVE. At. the corner of Symonds-streeb a crowd is gathered, waiting, many of its units vainly, for the car. But room, between seven and eight on the Saturday night, is a luxury not given to all, and in spite of much mobbing at its rear, the car glides defiantly into distance. Meantime, steadily, there pours down the street, a solid river of , shoppers and strollers. To judge by the packed mass inside a confectioner's shop, by the way, Saturday trade is something indeed to cater for. But the stream pours on till it reaches Karangahape Road—a main artery of trade, fed by streets north, south, east, and west, and fed well. . ;•'; ~ Whole families are here, mothers, fathers, children. One of the characteristics of the time and place is this of family life. A man who would disdain to be seen thus in Queen-street is wheeling v the perambulator; and looks, as he ought to look, at ease, and, purling his pipe, contented; having delivered over to his pretty helpmeet the week's salary. For, wise man, he knows that she will get the worth of forty slow sixpences out of each pound that would have yielded him but eight half-crowns. She, lrec to use her eyes, the baby being safe in her husband's charge, is alert, her whole housewifely soul intent on bargains in food and clothes for the three. A mother with a baby in arms and two skirt-tuggers is holding converse with another woman who nurses a large kitful of sundry parcels. We just catch the remark from the mother. Milk! A Lady Flunket or something like that." So evidently the infant- problem is percolating down, to the Karangahapc Road shoppers, even if some of them do not know the name of vice-royalty. < Down, did I say? Why, there's a learned professor, his mind removed from the abstract, studying a window full of men's felt hats. No, there's not much,," down" about this part of Auckland.' Indeed, there's an air of bustle and spend-money that bespeaks regular wages every Saturday. The crowd moves on, thick, breaking now and then, where little groups stand. Some men are in colloquy. "You just wait," said one, " until this Main Trunk line is done, and all these tramways. Then there'll be. a. lot o' working men thrown on the town." _, . "There just won't," replies- an optimist, with a red beard. "Oh no, there won't, because why? because by that time they'll have these drainage schemes in." Which dialogue serves to show that the labouring class is looking ahead, and hopefully, with an interest in the economic question's of city life. Inside a shop, I catch sight of a notice which emphasises the obvious fact of family. The placard requests mothers .not to bring go-Carts and perambulators into the showroom. But if family is one keynote of Karangahape Road, another is certainly, on the side of the sellers, profusion. The diapers' shops hold immense stocks, the grocers' overflow, and the fruiterers boldly shame' one into purchasing. '"'■ Two of them have discarded such paltrinesses as windows. They have ripped out the shop fronts, and have tipped on to bench and floor, case after case of luscious fruit. There is hardly room to get out. of these shops, and one has to wait; very patiently to be served. Heated women are busy filling bag after bag. No time to waste on salutations 1 If you hesitate, they perforce turn to your neighbour, and by the time you get their attention again they have forgotten that you spoke before. The whole family is in the service, even to a schoolboy with a clean collar, who dispenses ice cream to youngsters with, oennies and no collars. . The crowd surges by, laughing, talking, but well-ordered and well-dressed. There may be seen a profusion of young misses with white hats* stuck back wondrously on pinnacles of hair pad and with exuberant flowing of veil. But their frocks are freshly ironed, and they do not appear to have anv mischief "on." In a boot shop one of a half-dozen shortfrocked damsels disengages herself from a customer. Yes, they are very prompt up here. '..'••■ " Do you want Sunday boots? For lenow that,. scoff at it as we may, in these would-be-swell days, that Sunday distinction is good.

"Yes." , ~. And in a twinkling she has down eight pairs of varying makes and prices. " Better trv the mate to that," she suggests, this little maid in her teens, as brisk and to the point as you may wish. If one dislikes them all, she is ready to bring more; if one is perverse, she will not resent it, not she: She is there to serve, and more people are entering. So she counts the change into your hand and is, next instant, saying to someone else : " Yes. what size?" Outside a silent delta of atoms gazes upward, entertained b<- the strains ol a huge gramophone above, the opposite verandah. But here is a hat shop, and the lady of our party, herself a. seovner of Karangahapc Road, must look, and wonder at the prices, ridiculous to our city-cultured ideas. All, she decides, are flimsy, all but one, which at five shillings and sixpence must be tried. For they do mark their prices up here, and so save themselves a lot of useless ' answering. They cannot afford to waste time, and they certainly do not feel bad-tempered if you don't buy. Anyway, the five and sixpenny is purchased and worn. But I ought to add that the lady left her guinea hat behind her, and one of those busv little shopgirls had to come flying out "after her. to return it. "A"pork butcher's window is looking shamed, disgraced, and as for the cake shop, one would think a sleight of hand man had stripped it since we passed, the dishes are there and the wedding cake, .and a stray crumb. Nothing else! But the street is still full of people mostly carrying paper bags or baskets or kits. But why is this draper's in darkness? A half hour ago it was crowded. Here is another one putting up shutters. Then we remember. Early closing at nine. The girls are pouring out to join the outsiders.' But the glory is paling and with the lights the crowd' begin to drift homewards., . .

Three respectable suburbans are in front of us, openly eating large plums—-a vulgarism that no one of those three would, I know, dare in Queen-street. But there is less restraint here. . Indeed I find myself diving into a bag of grapes, and shooting the skins on to the roadway. Nobody minds, and the lights are turning down. The streams set in, . west, east, south, north. . i ■ ,

A tired babykin droops its head over the side of its pram, a father ■: hoists a sleepy toddler to his.arms, all look satisfied, and tram-car and road swallow the shoppers of Karamrahapc lload.