ECHOES OF THE WEEK.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1316, 20 May 1897, Page 23

ECHOES OF THE WEEK.

Satire's my weapon, but I'm too discreet To run amuck and tilt at all I meet. Pope.

BY SCRUTATOR.

Torres Strait, on an island in which the fine liner Duke of Devonshire, well known in Wellington, has corne to grief, is one of the "nastiest" bits of navigation ■ in the world. It is the rule, I believe, for skippers to anchor every night when going through the strait, which is full of sunken rocks, and presents dangers innumerable. New reefs, the origin of which is popularly supposed to be due to submarine volcanic action, are constantly being discovered, and of course are charted as promptly as possible. The very name of the strait is a perfect nightmare to skippers, the shores of Thursday Island and the adjacent small islands being simply strewn with wrecks of unfortunate ships. And yet the strait is a maritime highway, a short-cut to and from Australia and the Far East, and the amount of traffic passing through is simply enormous. It is to be hoped that the " Devonshire" may be got off all right, for she is a splendid vessel; but at tima of writing; her chances seem rather precarious.

Thursday Island, where the "Devonshire"' went ashore, is just north of Cape York, the northernmost extremity of Queensland, is a port of call for the British India Steam Navigation Company's boats, which run between Brisbane and London and carry the Queensland mails. A queer sort of place, by all accounts, with a very mixed population of beachcombers, an Alsatia of the Western Pacific with its pearl fishers, its beche cle oner fishers and the like. Guy Boothby's admirable stories, " The Marriage of Esther" and " A Lost Opportunity," will tell you all about Thursday Island folk if you care to know of them. The island has a considerable strategic value, and a good deal of money has been spent or is to be spent there, I really forget which, by the British naval authorities, who are to make a great coaling station of the place. As to the enormous amount of traffic which passes through Torres Strait into the Flores Sea on the north-west, you cannot do better than to read Kipling's most comical story of the mad lightship-keeper, whose brain gave way at a very critical moment, and who played the " cat and banjo," as Kipling himself would say, with the lights, thereby making half a score passing skippers well nigh as cranky as himself. The story I refer to is called " The Disturber of Traffic," and you will find it in friend Kip's latest collection of yarns, entitled, " Many Inventions."

Better late than never. The Italians are backing out of Abyssinia, and in future a garrison only is to be maintained at Massowah. Why the signors ever went to Abyssinia at all, save in obedience to a behest of Signor Crispi, beset with silly dreams of founding colonies and so distracting the people's attention from home troubles, is more than any sensible person can understand. For the low-lying coastal region is a land of fever and ague and as to the hilly country and table land of the interior, well, the Abyssinians can and have shown fight enough to prove that any European invader must be well equipped for a long campaign ee'r he achieves success. True Xiord Napier's famous expedition ha IS6B got through to Magdala all right, causing King Theodore to die by his own hand, but Menelek is not a second Theodore, as the Italians have found to their cost, and the whole history of Italian enterprise in Abyssinia is one long record of bravery in the ranks, incapacity in the commanders, and defeat and disaster for tho invaders all round. The Italians, I see, arc to retain Massowah, which is, perhaps, just as well for John Bull, seeing that the wily Muscovite has had a hankering after the port and the island, for it is an island connected with the mainland by a causeway, something in the same way as Portland Island is connected with Dorsetshire, possesses a strong strategic value as far as the navigation of the Red Sea is concerned. John Bull has Aden and Perim, it is true, but Massowah in the hands of the Muscovite might cause John a good deal of trouble were, some day or other, the Cabinets of St. James and St. Petersburg to sus£:>end friendly relations and tho war with the " Kooshians " to crop up.

Abyssinia must have cost Italy a pretty penny, and seeing the frightful state, financially, of the latter country, it is no wonder that Crispi was politically

lulled when the expense of the expedition became fully known. Italy has been playing a role for which she is quite unfitted when she poses as a first-class Power. The taxation is something crushing, and outside the big cities —" modernised " out of all recognition by those who admired them for their antiquities, their valuable art collections, and so forth —the peasantry are ground down by a burden they are quite unable to bear. It is the wise man who confesses to a mistake and sets about, repairing it, and the Italians are doing well in relmquishing their daydreams of an African empire. They can't afford to establish colonies yet awhile, and certainly it is not on the fever-stricken coastal lands of Abyssinia that successful colonies can be founded by any government.

Our Premier has. duly arrived at Ottawa, and is, I am glad to say, having what the Americans call a " real good time." Ottawa is the legislative capital of the Canadian Dominion, about 120 miles north of Montreal where the Ottawa river joins the noble St. Lawrence. The other day I was looking over a guide to the Canadian Pacific Railroad, and was much struck by a photo of the superb Parliamentary buildings—of which, by the way, the Prince of Wales laid the foundation stone hi 1860, and which are situated on a picturesque bluff on the banks of the Ottawa. Ottawa does a big trade in timber, or lumber as the Canadians and Yankees call it, thousands of men being employed in cutting the timber in the winter and drawing it to the stream, the spring freshets in which carry the timber, put together into gigantic rafts, down to Montreal.

Mr Seddon will no doubt be treated right royally by the Governor-General of Canada, Lord Aberdeen, and by that nobleman's amiable spouse. The Aberdeens made themselves greatly popular when Lord A. was Viceroy of Ireland in Gladstone's last term of office, and they are reputed to be equally liked at Rideau Hall, their official residence at Ottawa, which, I believe, was built specially as a gubernatorial rosidence when the Marquis of Lome occupied the position of Gover-nor-General, and Canadian society flocked to the capital to do honour to the Argyll's son and to the Queen's daughter, the Princess Louise,

Had it been in winter time, Mr Seddon might have been treated to a novel experience, namely, that of toboganning, which would have shaken his liver up to some tune. A toboggan slide is a sort of natural ice switchback, and the sensations of the riders the first time they trust themselves on a narrow sledge—King Richard would have to have had one built specially, I fancy—to be shot down an icy hill at the rate of 50 miles or more an hour, are described by those who have tried it as more exciting than agreeable. But this is spring, almost summer time in Canada, and Mr Seddon vail be spared the ordeal.

After Ottawa, I suppose the Premier ' and his worthy wife and daughters will do Montreal and Quebec, the latter with its famous Heights of Abraham, and its memories of the gallant "Wolfe and the equally gallant Montcalm, one of the most interesting of cities. From Quebec they could take one of the magnificent boats of the Allan line, and so off to Liverpool, but I see they have forsworn their allegiance to the " all red " route and have switched oft by the " cars " to Boston and New York. To leave out these two great cities would be to miss two of the most notable places in what appears to be a very notable journey for our first citizen and his fellow travellers. What merry cracks there will be when " King Dick" gets back to the cabinet-room. I hope ho won't come back with a Yankee drawl. But no fear of that. The Premier's native Lancashire "burr"—as a North countryman myself I love to hear it—will stick to him till he dies. And may that bo very many years to come.

Touching the Premier's visit to England I suppose he and the other Australasian big-wigs will be invited to dine with Her Majesty at Windsor Castle. The rule is, I have read, that tho more distinguished visitors at Windsor stop the night there. If this is to be the case with King Richard it will be interesting to learn whether ho will make acquaintance with the now famous Windsor Ghost, the shade of " Good Queen Bess," who, it is alleged quite seriously by an English paper, has recently been haunting the corridors, and—oh, most improper conduct for so reputedly proper a person as Bess—■ the bed-charnhers of the ftpyal residence,

The story, which is full of substantial (alleged) detail, has it that " all the inhabitants at the Castle are in a state of terror, and the Princess Beatrice has been obliged to change her apartment on account of the strange and unaccountable noises which have disturbed it." It is to be hoped that the ghost may be "laid" before the Australian Premiers arrive at the Castle, or Heaven only knows what they might see and hear—after a heavy Royal dinner and some of the " extra special" "Balmoral blend" with Her Majesty's secretary, Sir Henry Ponsonby, who is popularly supposed to do a little private entertainment on his own account after the solemnities of the official feed in the sacred " Royal Presence" are safely over.

He would be a bold man who ventures to predict what a press interviewer would or would not do or attempt to do. Nothing seems too great, nothing too smalls for the enterprising pressman in search of " copy." It is true some of the subjects are disposed to turn the tables, and to demand payment for submitting to the process. Our new Governor in esse has of course been interviewed by London correspondents of the New Zealand journals, and has apparently submitted to the ordeal with great good nature and frank courteousness. Oddly enough, one of the band of brothers of the press asked his lordship how his name was pronounced, and his lordship was good enough to explain that the accent was on the antepenultimate, that is, on the first syllable, JBanfurly, not as many people have been pronouncing it, emphasising the middle or penultimate syllable.

Curious pronounciations frequent attach thems3lves to proper names. When the warship Pylades was in harbour recently, a lounger on the wharf was heard speaking to one of the petty-officers about the " Pieladies," —" Pillades " was the prompt correction. The Greek "y" sounds "i" short, and the tar had learned the fact from the officers. So in many other cases the spelling does not indicate the vocal sound. For instance we have the oft quoted example of the family name of Cholmondeley, which is pronounced Chumley ; Majoribanks, which some people here call Majorbanks, is pronounced Marchbanks ; Balmerino, Balmirno; Menzies, Meengies ; St. Leger, Sellinger; and so on through a long list. There is, however, something comical in asking a Governor how he pronounced his name. " How do you spell your name ?" asked a puzzled Wellington pressman once of a visitor he knew, but could not nominate, thinking to get out of the dilemma. " Smith, John Smith " was the reply, with a hoarse laugh. Collapse of the subeditor.

The Duke of Argyle—God bless him — has recently been in a great state of mind over a proposed new railway from Dalmally to Inverary. Before a select committee of the House of Lords he waxed quite indignant about the line, which, he said, "would literally pass through his private park and would deprive him of those daily walks within his ' policies' to which he, as an old man, he was now limited." One would almost imagine by the above that the Duke, who ! on paper, when conducting one of the complicated polemical discussions he so dearly loves, is so courageous, is actually frightened of the sight of a locomotive. Like so many noblemen in tho Old Country he evidently studies his own whims first and never thinks of tho convenience of the public or the promotion of commerce by cheaper and speedier railway carriage. One of the committee having made a sly allusion to the fact that the Duke had an immense whisky distillery on his property at a place called Campbelltown and asked his grace whether be didn't think that injured his sacred "policies," the Duke answered, " I am not prepared to say that, but the distribution of the spirits may be. I have never been a teetotaller, I take a little whisky for my health's sake, but I am strongly against the unlimited and indiscriminate sale of it, especially when it invites temptation to the working classes." Good, virtuous, temperate, old gentleman, lie doesn't believe in Sandy having a " woe dram," but he doesn't object to receiving the rent for the distillery where the dram is brewed. And yet this is the same Duke of Argy]o who four or Bve years ago publicly alluded to Mr Gladstone "as a hypocrite !"

In Pearson's Magazine, which I picked up the other night and was astonished to see what a wonderful amount of good stuff—pictorial and literary—can be pub-

lisliod nowadays for the modest sum of sixpence, I came across an article concerning the production of bibles by the famous Oxford press. The author, a gentleman bearing the odd name of Henry Dam, tells his readers that when an edition of the Bible is issued a guinea is paid to the discoverer of any mistake. About five guineas per year arc thus paid out as the reward of diligence. When one person discovers an error and gets his guinea, some thousands discover it after him, and this entails much correspondence of a diplomatic character and much postal expense. Once, after- an edition of 50,000 Bibles had been printed, it was discovered that early in the printing two letters had broken out of one of the electroplates. The first was ' t,' turning teaching into ' eachhig.' The second was ' e,' turning eaching into ' aching.' It finally read through most of the edition ' Christ aching in the Temple.' Some thousands had been bound and sent out to the trade. These were recalled, and Mr, Frowdo's special stamper, a unique, unparalleled, and wonderful stamper, was set to work, and stamped into nearly 50,000 Bibles the letters ' t' and ' e ' by hand."

The "Aching Bible," the uncorrected volumes would, I suppose, have been called had the error escaped notice and the edition got into circulation. Looking up that invaluable work by Dr Brewer (who, by the way, died the other day), " Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable," I spent an interesting few minutes last night in reading therein of previous mistakes in Bibles. King James' Bible most of us know, the Pievised Version of course all young folk are or ought to be familiar with, but there are many readers of " Echoes " who have never, I make bold to say, heard of " The Breeches Bible," " The Vinegar Bible " and "The Wicked Bible." A few lines as to these curiously named editions of Holy Writ may therefore be of interest. "The Breeches Bible," published in 1579, was so called because Gen. hi., 7, was thus rendered; " The eyes of them bothe were opened . . . and they sewed figge leaves together and made themselves breeches.'" "The Vinegar Bible" got its curious title because the heading to Luke xx. is given as " The Parable of the Vinegar" instead of vineyard. This biblo was printed at the Clarendon (Oxford) press in 1717. As to " The Wicked Bible," printed by Barker and Lucas in 1832, it was so named because of a peculiarly awful mistake made in printing the Seventh Commandment, which appeared thus : " Thou shalt commit adultery " ! I wonder what the worthy printers said when they discovered their mistake. The " demon comp." of 1632 no doubt got a very severe wigging.

Perhaps some of my readers can tell me —and their fellow-readers —of other curiously named Bibles, in the printing of which quaint errors were mode. If so, I shall be glad to hear from them.

" Citizen " writes as follows :—Dear Scrutator, —I know you are always ready and willing to give a contributor space to bring up a question of public interest, so I write to point out that there is a danger to the community in the light burning oils brought into the country under the name of kerosene oils. Now, sir, the proper name for mineral oils under llOdeg. flashing point comes under the name of petroleum, and petroleum comes under the Dangerous Goods Act, No. 60, 18S2. Unfortunately, this low flashing point oil is, or can be, introduced into the country, as there is no expert in this line to look after it. How is this ? "Why should the people be in danger of being burnt to death through these cheap oils being brought here by firms anxious to make money and undersell their competitors ? This, sir, I leave to you. Any oil under 180 flashing point is dangerous, and at present there is no system under which these inferior oils can be kept out of the country. If the poultry in the country requires an expert, surely the lives of the people require some looking after. Then mothers could leave their homes for a time and have some peace of mind, as we all know that the " lamp danger" agitates the mind of many a mother when she leaves the house at night in charge of children who are inclined to be careless. I hope 3-01; will look i into the matter." !

" Citizen " certainly makes out a good ■prima facie case for the inspection of kerosene oils, and if my recommendation is worth anything, it is that the Commissioner of Customs should at once "look into the matter/'

Apropos to my remarks in last week's issue on Dean Fitchett's extraordinarydeclaration concerning colonial pride and patriotism, I have much pleasure in printing the following verses, entitled "The Bush Settler," sent me by the author, the Bev P. L. Cameron, of St. John's, Upper Hutt, who dedicates the lines "to Dean Fitchett after reading ' Scrutator's ' remarks " : ~<fer THE BUSH SETTLER. A word just to cheer, j)Ta,j sirs do you. hear ? A word just to praise, kind sirs do I raise. The bush pioneer's lif a, Is hard work and hob strife. His task is heavy, his trials not few, The land from stumps and big logs he must clear ; Nature's face and earth he both doth renew, Not always a wife with love to him cheer. No bone in his body's lazy or slow; He rises at dawn as bright as the lark. And peggeth away with chop and with bl<: w Till the stars appear and the glades grow dark. His road is uphill, his cash it is spare, Few play-hours hath he, he works oft alone. Scant is his furniture, frugal his fare ; Self-help's his watchword in founding a home. Ho reclaimeth the bush by his bard blows. Sheep and cattle replace pig and wild beast — "The wilderness doth blossom as the rose'' With corn and wine our nation for to feast. Fve lived with him now for nigh twenty years, Have slept in his hut and preached to him hope; , Know all his trials and probed at his fears — Always for him kindly words I have spoke. His work, like mine, is just missionary ; Hope's his banker, self-reliance his mint. He is God's and Britain's commissary, An.d Empire is rising upon his footprint.

To Correspondents. " The Old Scotch Parson " received. Will print in next week's issue of the Mail. —" J. 8." (Wanganui) : Very sorry, but contribution unsuitable. Try again, and choose a colonial, less-hackneyed subject. —" Old Echo-itc " (Hawera) : Very funny, but would give offence, I fear, to many worthy people.