HERE AND THERE.

New Zealand Mail, 21 July 1892, Page 11

HERE AND THERE.

AN UP-TO-DATE HEROINE. Ten days ago (says a London correspondent) Miss Polly Faulkner, described as ‘ a young lady with respectable connections,’ jumped from a train in Yorkshire in order, she declared, to avoid being criminally assaulted by a ‘ tall, dark man,’ who had persistently followed her from one carriage to another at Leeds, the previous stopping place. The carriage from which Miss Faulkner jumped showed evidences of a violent struggle, and on the floor were her purse, eye glasses, and a piece of torn jacket. A search was instantly instituted for the tall, dark man, whom no one (oddly enough) seemed to have noticed. The guard swore that at Leeds he had specially observed Miss Faulkner alone in her compartment. Enquiries proved altogether abortive, and ultimately Miss Faulkner, impelled thereto by a detective, confessed that she had invented the xohole story. Her ambition was to become a sensational heroine, and to attain it Bhe’d risked jumping from the train. EVERT MAN HAD HIS PRICE. During his visit to Birmingham the other week Mr Matthews, Home Secretai’y, told an amusing story of his election experiences at Dungarvan in 1868. The little borough had only about 300 electors, bnt almost every one of them had his price, and the honour of representing them was attained at a great cost. Mr Matthews, therefore, quite expected a heavy bill of expenses, but still he was taken abaok, on looking through the account, to find the item, * Whisky, £547.’ ‘ What does this mean?’ Mr Matthews enquired of the agent. ‘ An’ sure th’ bhoys needed a drop o* the cratur.’ Mr Matthews ventured to suggest that their thirst was somewhat abnormal, and that possibly the ‘ bhoys ’ had been swimming in the spirit; but the agent cut him short with the indignant remark, ‘ Begorra, an’ if you want to squeeze a pippin like that you’U never do for Dungarvan.’ 1 And,’ added the Home Secretary, * I paid the bill.’ DOCAD OPTION. Sir Wilfrid Lawson, at a recent election meeting which was presided over by Mr Lahouchere, said : Mr Labouchere has been good enough to call me the apostle of temperance. I call him a disciple (laughter and cheers) —and I look upon him as a very promising young man indeed. I heard him say once in the House of Commons that he had always been in favour of temperance, though he did not belong to the Band of Hope. We are all for temperance now, though some of our friends do not go the right way about securing it. There was once a poet who sang — Youth at the helm and Pleasure at the prow. To-night you have

* Truth ’ at the helm and Temperance at the prow. We have to consider to-night, I presume, whether we are to treat drink and the drink traffic in a sensible way. Now, to know how to treat a thing we must know what it is. There would not be so many drink it if it was not very good, very palatable, and very agreeable. But, then, however palatable it is, it is an insidious enemy. You had here last week a gentleman who made a very good speech. He was an alderman. Mr Tillet is a very good alderman—becauee he agrees with me. He said : ‘ Drink is a waste of money, tho father of all the vice in the country, a vice maker, the servant of every degree of wickedness, a robber of the health and robustness of future generations, and a warper of the belief of the people.’ Now, I will give you what a nobleman says—Lord Randolph Churchill. He says that the people who supply you with drink are people who carry on a devilish and destructive traffic. Having given you what an alderman and what a nobleman say, I will give you what another man says. The Grand Old Man says that drink produces in this country the accumulated evils of war, pestilence, and famine. People are so infatuated with drink that they will do anything to get it. Drink has got to be nearly king in this country. It is a king, and employs his ministers to carry out his behests—tho brewers, the distillers, the publicans, tho licensed grocers, the pot*boys, the cliuckersout, and all tho noble army of the trade. They are employed in enslaving the people of this country. You will say that that is an extreme statement to make. Not a bit of it. The late Archbishop of Canterbury said in the House of Lords that the liquor traffic was worse than the slave trade.—(.Cheers). THE PARSER’S OATH. A Parsee witness was lately called to give evidence in regard to a fraud case in one of tho London Police Courts. The usher proceeded to swear him in in the usual manner, when Mr Armstrong the solicitor for tho defence, called attention to tho fact that the witness had not kissed the book. The witness replied that ho was a Parsee, and could be sworn by raising the book. Mr Armstrong : ‘ Do you believe in the book you have in your hand?’ Witness : ‘No, but I can b 8 sworn on it; it is a sacred book.’ Mr Slade : ‘ You must bo sworn according to your religious belief.’ Witness : ‘ I was sworn at the Marlborough street Police Court by merely raising my hand.’ Mr Armstrong ; * There is no sun in the borough, so that will not do.' Witness : * I can be sworn by holding my hand up to the sky, or, as we are fire worshippers, I can be sworn by standing by the fire, or I can take some of the fire in my hand.’ Mr Armstrong ‘ You are very accommodating ; you take it any way.—(Laughter). The magistrate and the clerk consulted a number of books, but were unable to find out the proper manner to administer the oath. Mr Nairn (the clerk) : ‘ I think we can get over the difficulty by asking the witness what form of oath will be binding ou his conscience.’ Witness : * I have the seal of my prophet on my watch-chain, and I can swear by that The usher then administered the oath to the witness whilst ho was holding the seal in his right hand. A TALE OP 1 JOHNNY SHEEHAN.’ Land-buying from tho natives in the good old Maoriland days was profitable, but risky. As the lands were held on the ccftnmunal principle, ifc was necessary to obtain fcha

signatures of a whole tribe ere a title-oertifi cate could be secured for the smallest block, frequently the fact of one or two tatooed old chieftains refusing to sign would cause the purchase of land on which thousands of pounds had been advanced to remain incomplete for years—sometimes until the death of the malcontents removed the obstacle. Hon. John Sheehan, a thorough Maori linguist, and the first native-born pakeha to occupy a eeafc in M L. Parliament, was a mo3t successful signature-getter. His private secretary, a dry old Scotch pressman named Carrick, used to tell of his experiences with Sheehan on a land-buying expedition to the Waikato frontier. 4 Naethin’ but whusky an’ rum for four blessed days ! No beesaess at a’, Hunnerds o’ Moories aboot and a’ o’ them hiccuping kapai Sheehan ” all ower the toonshup. Then Sheehan cam’ to me wi’ a wink o’ his ee’ an’ says 44 Noo’soor time,” and a’ that day he kept me twustin’ roon’ a zoetrope- —one o’ them whirligigs wi’ pictures ontil them —to mak’ the niggers pleasant, and, sirs, he kept me singin’ them “ The night that Larry was stretched” awhiles whuppin’ oot his parchment an’ gettin’ signatures like one o’clock. We pit the whole block through that day.’ Poor Sheehan, who drank himself to death before he was 40, was one of the readiestwittied of men. Struck full on the breast with a stale egg at a hostile election meeting, he remarked without a quiver and with a reassuring smile that almost conveyed the idea that he accepted the mal-odoroua attention as a compliment, * G-entlemen, I like a good, strong, healthy opinion, even when it take 3 the form of rotten eggs.’—Bulletin. THE COSTER CRITIC.

Apropos of the death of Mr Yates Carrington, the celebrated animal painter, a story is told of an artist who asked a costermonger to allow his donkey to be painted. The owner looked annoyed at the request. Later he called at the gentleman’s house, and said, 4 I understand you want to paint my donkey ?’ * Yes,’ replied the artist, 4 1 shall be very pleased if you will allow me.’ 4 Why,’ continued the coster, 4 ain’t he a good enough colour already ?’ FISHING VERSUS THE CROPS.

A correspondent of The Field relates the following anecdete. He met an agricultural friend the other day by the riverside, and addressed him in these words : 4 Well, farmer Daw, how do you aad the parson get on?’ 4 Ther, it bean’t for the likes o’ we to critikise the parson, sir,’ vras the reply, 4 but I dew say to my missus he be strange and fond o’ fishing. He doan’t onderstand what be gude weather for the fush bean’t gude weather for the craps. So soon as us wants bewtiful weather for tho wheat ue be bound to have to pray for rain. But I tell ’e how it be. When parson goes to church he takes a lewk at the river, and turns on the prayer for gude weather or rain according.’ A CURIOUS MISTAKE.

A Malta correspondent sends the following to the St. James’ Gazette :—On Good Friday this place is alive with processions, and the native is on his best behaviour and full of religious zeal. An English visitor was walking quietly along the ‘Strada Reale* when a procession came along, and he stopped to inspect it, and (like a true Britisher) refused to salute the image of the Virgin Mary as she was borne along; whereon he was promptly bonneted, and retreated down the street. Later on in the day he was going to the club in a very nice new bowler, and seeing a procession coming along lie decided to pay due respect at the shrine, and promptly removed his hat, when there arose a howl, and he was chased down several streets and escaped in a boat. Tho unfortunate man had saluted Pontius --Pilate, whom they were going to burn in effigy. OLD COACHING DATS. In an article on 4 Coaching Days on the Great North Road,’ in Baily’s Magazine, the Hon. Francis Lawley urges that inconvenient and trying as were the hardships of travelling by coach before railways were in vogue, by them, in part, 4 veterans of the tough and hardy type! of the Lord Chancellor Campbell were 4 made and perfected.’ Of Lord Camphell’s biography he says : We commend it to the attention of Lord

Campbell’s successors on the judicial bench, who, instead of taking their seats, as he did, , every morning at ten o'clock, lose threequarters of an hour before they make their appearance in court, and require an hour for luncheon, whereas a fourth of that time sufficed for him. His life was, indeed, a model of thrift, industry, and what George 111. used to call ‘getting-on qualities.’ Starting at nineteen with a coach ride from Edinburgh to London, which cost ten pounds, Lord Campbell never stopped or swerved in his onward career. The following is one of the latest entries in his * Diary ‘ Hartrigge, Jedburgh, Aug. 28, 1852. —500 n after these events it was thought my career was closed.—Returning on horseback from Guildhall, where I had presided as Lord Chief Justice, my horse took fright on Southwark Bridge, reared, and dashed me against the pavement. When I recovered my senses I was put into a cab and carried home. I received a cut on my head three inches long, and some very serious contusions on the shoulder and ribs. My surgeon told me I must not go into court for some weeks ; but morning, at half-past nine, I was again on the bench at Guildhall, to the great surprise and dismay of Mr Attorney-General, who for a space had considered himself Chief Justice. I did an imprudent thing, but avoided the exaggerations which damage to the Chief Justice would have created.’ When these words were written, Lord Campbell was seventy-two, and his life was protracted for eight years more, without his knowing or seeking a moment’s rest until his latest waking hour. Some portion of his extraordinary vigour wa3 due, in my opinion, to days and nights spent in his early youth on the top of a Scottish coach.