ECHOES OF THE WEEK.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1263, 14 May 1896, Page 23

ECHOES OF THE WEEK.

Satire's ray weapon, but I'm too discreet To ran amuuk and tilt at all I meet. Pope.

BY SCRUTATOR.

It is only a question of time and, so the New Zealand "Now Woman" threatens, the "reforming influence" of which we have heard so much now-a-days, will extend itself to municipal bodies and Wellington may see itself ridded of even the Great Fisher himself, his placo and that of the councillors with whom ho is always squabbling so fiercely being taken by members of tho fair sex. As usual with anything new America famishes us with an example of the extremes to which " New Womanism" may bo pushed, for if tho Glasgow Herald is speaking seriously (and your Scotsman "jokes wi' dooliculty") there is in the little town of Decatur, in the State of Michigan, a placo completely, absolutely under the rule of women. Women, I read. " fill overy office in Decatur, except that of dog-catcher. They make the shoes, the furniture, the carriages, and the harness, paint tho houses, keep the shops, ami control tho public-houses, where nothing stronger than soda-water and effervescing drinks aro permitted to tho men, who humbly take a back seat. Even the church has a feminine pastor, while the dead aro buried by a woman undertaker."

This is all very well, but the Glasgow paper omits to tells us what tho men are doing all this time. They "humbly take a back seat," wo are told, but into the details for which my soul is hungering, the "Glaosca" print does not condescend to go. Do the Decatur men stop at homo and Mil tho domestic kettle and bake tho domestic bread (heavy, t fear, if they do), wash and dress the Decatur " kiddies," and polish up tho s-tovo and the handles of the Decatur front doors? Do they knit and hem, do they read Mrs Weldon's "Fashion Guido " or " Myra's Journal," or lio awake o'nights, perturbed in mind as to what recondite recipe they shall tern to with a vie.v to concocting a toothsome " made dish " out of yesterday's cold mutton P Do they cease reading tho local Tunas, and hug the bulky but bothorsomo " Mrs Beetons" to their breasts; do they, oh do they, turn their sparo time to use in manoeuvring new garments for little Fanny or Mary Ann out of "mamma's" discarded ''rationals." Why, oh why does not tho Glasgow Herald give some information on tho point. Wo men aro all agreed that the " triumphant onward march of enfranchised and enlightened Woman " (be careful to put a capital VV, Mr Printer) is slowly but surely destined to elbow us out of the "absurd, unjust and tyrannical iuonoply of all political ami civic positions " which, so the New Woman will have it, we have put to such bad use, hut the great problem for us is what we are to do, what is to become of us when these positions are all hold by the triumphant female. And now that we have an American exemplar of how women can "run" tho public "show," tho chroniclor of the Decatur "new departure" is mean onough to indulge in the pitiful generality of " humbly taking a hick scat," and cruelly refuses all details as to the exact nature, of tho stuffing of that seat. This, as Artemus Ward said to the Shaker maiden, of -15 summers, who frantically attemptud to fold him to her ancient " buzzuin"—" this is tow mutch."

With the exception of tho miserablelooking little creature who used to how] out pretty well the whole day a dismal ditty relating tho experiences of one "Disy" with a bicycle which was "built for two," an I a very occasional barrel organ, our streets are generally free from what, in a measure recently introduced in tho English House of Commons, are termed "obnoxious and unnecessary noises," but at Home Mr Jacoby'a liill was badly needed. Tho Dill, I notice, provides the " better regulations of itinerant musicians, singers, mountebanks and players, and for the suppression of obnoxious and unnecessary noises." It i 3 mainly aimed, so 1 understand by tho Homo papers, at that most awful of institutions which England owes to tho " Vaterland," the German bands. Germany and anything German are not popular in England just now, but it is rath or cruel for an English paper to doscribo Gorman bands as deriving their name " from the fact that the players' chronic tendency to play out of tune is such as would make the performances undesirable even to German oars." This is really a libel upon a nation which, whatever its faults, is certainly tho most musical in the world. Mr Jorome K. Jeromo, a professional funny man, goes nearer tho truth when he says, as ho does in ono of his books, that Gorman bands are composed of unmusical persons who have been compelled to fly from their native country in order to escape being

slaughtered by their infuriated compatriots.

Apropos to Germany, I wonder whether the "young man in a hurry" ever finds time to read tho Australian papers. If he has raad a yarn recently told in one of these journals concerning the experiences of Dr McCreery, of the Eew (Melbourne) Lunatic Asylum, his hatred against Great Britain will probably extend to John Bull's colonial children. The story in question runs to the effect that tho doctor once overheard two of his patients talking together in a very excited manner. "I'm a more powerful man than you," said one. " No, you'ie not," said tho other. " Yes, I am," said the first; "I'm tho most powerful man in the world—l'm the Emperor of Germany." "No, you're not," retorted his friend. "You can't be. Why, I'm God Almighty, and I haven't even heard of you!" Seeing that tho Kaiser, judging him by some of his recent public utterances, evidently considers himself the sole representative of the Almighty on this terrestrial sphere, his wrath when ho reads this story—if ever he does—can bo better imagined than described.

And yet again 1 am reminded of the Kaiser and his fails (he " possesses " mo as surely as King Charles and the famous Memorial possessed poor Uncle Dick in David Coppeifield) when I read of a very curious play recently staged in a leading Siamese theatre. Tho Kaiser, it may be remembered, issued a ukase lately that no member of tho German Royal Family, or any of their relations (a rather large order this), should bo impersonated on the stage. What will he say when ho hears of this Siaineso play, in which Ceylon is the capital of England, and a leading incident in which is the betrothal of Queen Victoria and _the King of Siam ? Tho marriage, however, is indefinitely postponed, misunderstandings between the royal parties having arisen, and Queen Victoria (this is a delightfully humorous touch) is made by the native playwright to invade Siam to obtain damages for breach of promise. The playwright is entensely patriotic, and so Her Majesty, who commands her faithful "Tommy Atkins," in person, is repulsed with great slaughter, the Duke of Cambridge being very prominent on the battle scene, where he engages three Siamese fairies in mortal combat with a battle axe ! Finally there is what tho author considers a very happy ending, all mistakes are remedied, and Queen Vicky and His Siamese Majesty are made ono. Now as the Kaiser is Her Majesty's grandson, wo ought not to 1)0 surprised if he deems the play an indirect though deadly slur upon his dignity and demands explanations and apologies from the Siamese Cabinet. The worst feature in the Young Man in a Hurry is that he is totally destitute of humour.

In tho English comic papers and English humorous literature generally it is the usual thing to allude to the names Smith, Jones, Brown and Robinson as being purely typical of the nomenclature of the true John Bulls, and certainly tho number of Smiths, Are., &.C., to bo found in the Old Country is something perfectly appalling. Mark Twain it was, I think, who once dedicated one of his books to "John Smith," making at the time the humorous contention that if only one-tenth of the persons bearing that cognomen read, and bought the work in question the author would be a rich man. I now read in the London Globe that in a coroner's jury empanelled at Pimlico, London, recently, thero were twelve Smiths, one Jonos, and ono .Brown. To complete the cycle, says tho Globe, it is only necessary to mention that tho deceased's name was Robinson. Were it not that the occasion was of so gruesome a character, wo might have imagined that the official responsible for the empanelling of the jury had been playing an elaborate practical joke.

The Globe's paragraph reminds me, in a round-about way, of a little accident which occurred to the present writer when making a so-called "walking tour" (we coached it most of the time) in North Wales some years ago. We wore stopping at that delightful little placo, the delight of artists and tourists, Bettys-coed, and ono afternoon walk< d )ver to tho picturesque and historically-famous little town of ConwayWo "did"thefamouscas(.]o,and then si rolled round tl.o church-yard and up tho main street. In both places wo were struck with tho extraordinary number of times in which tho word Jones cropped up. The churchyard was simply packed with dead and gone Joneses, and as for the worthy tradespeople of Conway, tho name Jones appeared, to us, at least, to bo over practically every other shop and stall in tho town. Lewis was there, and Hughes and Roberts, also Jenkins, Griffiths and Williams, but tho number of these as compared with tho over-powering multiplicity of Jones was a mere fleabite. Still pondering over the problem as to how many men bearing tho namo of Jones there might bo in Conway,

we strolled into a pub—your tourist "walker" generally gravitates to a pub —ensconced ourselves on a comfortable settle in a cosy little bar parlour with sanded floors and indulged in shandygaff. On another settle, in an opposite corner, wero four local citizens, grave-faced old chaps, puffing solemnly at long "churchwarden " pipes, and Avetting their whistles over and anon with long pulls at earthenware mugs filled with a local brew.

All four wero talking Welsh, which to the average Briton is as intelligent as Sanscrit, and little thinking that they could understand English, we three cheeky youngsters discussed their personal appearances pretty freely, if good naturedly. Finally ono of my companions brought up the great "Jones" problem, and I somewhat loudly offered to bet that out of the four good citizens of Conway opposite, two must bo Joneses. To our mingled mirth and horror, the gravest faced of the four solemnly withdrew his churchwarden from his mouth, and said "Young man, there be of us Joneses here." (Ho pronounced the name as "Chones " but that is a detail.) Needless to say we burst out laughing at such a singular confirmation of our view that overy other man in Conway was of the noble tribe of Jones, and an invitation to fill up their mugs with another dose of tho local brew being cheerfully accepted, tho three Joneses and their friend (he was a Griffiths) foregathered very pleasantly for half an hour or so. If England has a smrplusagoof Smiths "gallant little Wales," as Gladstone once called the principality, is somewhat unduly blessed with Joneses.

Ono has only to carefully peruse election speeches, and a choice collection of examples of " mixed metaphor " can easily be got together. Perhaps when our own general elections come round I may find time to make such a collection, but meanwhile the following really delicious specimen of oratorical " muddle," taken from a speech delivered recently by a prominent Queensland politician will, I think, beat the record:

They'll keep cutting the wool off the sheep that lays the golden until they pump it dry. . . . The glorious work will never bo accomplished until the Government properly assist the good ship Temperance to sail from one end of tho land to the other, and with a cry of victory at each stop she takes, shall plant her banner in every city, town and village in Queensland.

Journalistic amenities in New Zealand are often amusing—there has been some peculiarly hot fighting on paper up in Levin and Shannon district recently—but it is rare, indeed, that one comes across a father and son falling out editorially, and in the same town, too. But this is what happened a few weeks ago at Cooktown, in Queensland. The climate is pretty hot up in Northern Queensland, and tempers aro often short, but tho spectacle of a father bullyragging his own son (the two running rival " rags") seems to have staggered oven Cooktown people a little. The Queenslander, a bright and always readable Brisbane weekly, furnishes me with the record of this extraordinary affair. My contemporary say: —"One of tho curiosities of journalism is the correction by a Cooktown journalistic father of his journalistic son, who runs tin; opposition paper. The son has evidently been poking borak at the old man per medium of his ' journal,' and tho father fakes his wayward offspring to task. Mr James Fowler, sen., runs the Cooktown Independent, ami Mr James Fowler, jun., conducts tho Beacon. Thus Mr James Fowler of the Independent: ' Tho "cock-a----doodle-do" youth who runs tho Beacon fancies that under empty pretentiousness ho can disguise his gror.s ignorance and inexperience of journalism and politics, and under impression he has the profound " cheek " to lecture and hector those who know something about both. His vicious abuse of us will be regarded by the few sensible persons who read his " rag " as a mere youthful exuberance of inexperience and indiscretion.'"

On the question of " Drunkenness in Franco," <I.A.S. writes me as follows:

Wellingtoii, May 10.

DiiAit Scrutator, —I was delighted to see in your yesterday's issuo some trenchant remarks in reply to an effusion signed " A Tote," in reference to drunkenness in France. How paltry all those contemptible attempts on tho part of zealots are, to throw dirt at other people or to libel a whole nation. Having myself resided in Franco, I can fully bear out every statement you made. Of course some peopla blinded by " insular prejudico " and others, who have " alcohol on tho brain," go on the " Continong" with their minds made up to find fault with everybody except themselves and to sneer at everything foreign. If "A Tote " had taken the trouble to consult official statistics ho would have seen that deaths from drink in France are only 23 per 1000 inhabitants, while in tho United Kingdom they aro 43. To any unprejudiced person, it must be perfectly clear, that beverages containing from 10 to 20]per cent, of alcohol, cannot have tho same offeot as those con-

taining 40 to 50 per cent. During tho Carnival excesses aro no doubt indulged in just as much as on Bank holidays in England. "But it's a poor heart that never rejoices." Tho social education of enlightened people should not be limited to tea-fights and bun-struggles, seasoned with wild ranting by professional Prohibition agitators. No wonder such people arc narrow-minded. During tho summer mouths, tens of thousands of young fellows leave English ports on Saturday afternoon, by excursion steamers, to spend Sunday in the French coastal towns, " 800-long " preferred. They "paint the towns rod " all Sunday and return early on Monday morning. When tho white cliffs of Dover aro in sight, they turn their swollen eyes to heaven, shiver all over as they get nearer to Mother Grundy and the Age of Consent female and exclaim : " What an immoral people those French are!" In former years the Mabille and eight years ago the Folies Bergeres, the Moulin Rougo, Ac, were simply thick with Englishmen, Americans and other foreigners. The globe-trotter sees only the surface of French life in the big towns, where, like in all other countries, excesses do take place, and will take place so long as human beings have healthy constitutions. But I do not know of any other country in Europe in which it is so difficult for a " Uitlander" to catch a glimpse of the true family life as it exists in millions of households in France. Jacques Bonhomme and Joseph Prudhomme are very industrious, very saving, and exasperatingly exclusive. The whole matter reminds me of R. L. Stevenson's remark, " Ignorance of his neighbour is John Bull's chief characteristic." Personally I attach no value whatever to the, in most cases silly statements, mado by globe trottors about tho morality of other nations. " A Tote " does, so long as they come from persons on his side. I will now give him ono from a man whose word he would not dare to doubt. The Rev L. M. Isitt in a letter published in the Prohibitionist a few mouths ago, said:—"lt was exceedingly difficult to form any idea of tho part that strong drink plays from what was to be seen in the streets and cafes of tho city of Paris. After spending a considerable amount of time in careful investigation, I could understand the prevailing impression by the Englishman, that there is very little drunkenness in France. Tho Frenchman when he does drink to the extent of being drunk and incapable, rarely exhibits his incapacity in tho public thoroughfares, knowing that if ho does ho will not bo able to exhibit long

Directly one leaves the city and exploros country regions, drunkenness is almost as much in evidenco as it is here (in England). In the course of a bicycle ride from Paris to Fontainebloau I saw four men and one woman drunk by the wayside." How did Mr Isitt know these people were drunk ? Did he dismount and examine them ? As it happens, tho country population in Franco aro tho most sober people in Europe. Then he proceeds:—"Still, I must confess that I did not see enough to explain tho increasing consumption of alcoholic liquors that Franco is credited with in Government returns. In company I mado sundry tours of inspection through some of tho worst haunts of vice in Paris, and in every place we found drink tho foundation plank of tho whole business, while the first request of every daughter of shame was for for either beer or brandy." Hero I must leave off, or some Prohibitionists would have to try and blush. How fond these social purity men aro to gloat with their own eyes over Vice. Personally, I rejoice that possibly one of tho several silver coins which 1 dropped into tho plate at many of tho reverend gentleman's meetings, whose eloquence I have always admired, may have found its way to Paris to gladden the heart of and to make life look a litf'e less dreary and miserable, even if only for half an hour, to a poor " daughter of shame " in tho city of mirth and gaiety.