ECHOES OF THE WEEK.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1354, 10 February 1898, Page 23

ECHOES OF THE WEEK.

Satire's my weapon, but I’m too discreet To run amuok and tilt at all 1 meet. Pope. BY SCRUTATOR. V; / . The Par Eastern question remains pretty well as it was last week, with, the exception that Japan is evidently waking up to the dangers which threaten her if If Eussia succeeds in getting a hold over the Corea and Eastern Manchuria. It must be a constant source of irritation to the Japs to see the Eussians apparently in permanent occupation of Port Arthur, and when it is remembered that Vladivostock is within two or three days steam of northern Japan and that scores of thou sands of Muscovite soldiers are being massed at that port, the outlook for Japan is one of anxiety. One can easily understand the necessity for the Japs in mataining a strong navy—the position of Japan to the Asiatic continent is becoming very similar to that of Great Britain with respect to Europe—4t is the. safety of the “silver streak,” which must in each case be maintained inviolate.

The cables during the week have not had much to tell us with reference to Germany’s policy in the China Sea, and notwithstanding all the hoch-mg and imperial blatherskite at Kiel recently, the Germans have by this time no doubt, discovered that foreign conquest is not so easy as it seems. Apropos to the Kaiser’s mad dreams as to China, I read in the Vienna correspondence of the London Times that during an audience given by the Emperor to Count Zichy, an Hungarian explorer, the Kaiser made the following extraordinary prediction : “ When you go to China you must see my brother Henry. By that time he will already have been proclaimed Emperor of China."

A German prince Emperor of vChina !

What a prospect for the unfortunate , Chinkies does this not hold out! With their mania for pettifogging interference with the customs of the countries they “ colonise," the Germans will no doubt make it a penal offence to wear a pigtail. The pichethaube will replace the pudding basin-like straw poti which is so familiar to us in pictures of China, the puppy dog ” and the gelatinous bird’s nest soup, the beche de mer patties and rats A V Orientate will disappear from the national menu and give way to Frankfort sausage ; every official will have at least fourteen titles all striing together before his name, and, worst of all, the unfortunate Chinese kiddies will have to wrestle with the weird mysteries of the German irregular verb, not to speak of their being trained to sing a new national anthem, in which, after the style of the now famous creation at Kiel the Kaiser will be hailed as:—

, “ Most Serene Emperor I ” _ . ' “ Most Powerful King and Lord 1 ” “ Wearer of the Imperial Crown With Thoms 1 ” ■“ Your Majesty’s Consecrated Person I" ' Our Most Serene, Mightily Beloved Emperor, King and Master For Ever And Ever! ” What a blessed prospect for homestaying John.

Meanwhile, it is just as well to remember that the Deutschland, with the future new Emperor on board, was last heard of at Aden, waiting orders —to go back ?—and that the Japanese navy could knock the new Emperor that is to be —pace his brother Bill— and the whole of the German squadron into kingdom come, just as soon as he and it get out to Chinese waters and the Mikado chooses to give the word. Kaiser Bill and his brother Henry are two of the most supremely ridiculous persons in the world, if they only knew it,

A good many people who have enjoyed that capital play “ The Prisoner of Zenda" may not have read Mr Anthony Hope’s novel upon which the drama is founded. The play is good, but the story is better, and can be read in a cheap half-crown edition in Macmillan’ Colonial Library. It may also be of Interest to note that a sequel to the story, under file title of “ Rupert of Hentzau,” is now running in the Pall Mall Magazine. I wonder no one has dramatised another good story by Mr Hope. I refer to his “ Indiscretion of the Duchess,” in which there is a comedy vein which is very charming, as well as no dearth of strong dramatic incident.

In the latest issue of the Prohibitionist a considerable amount of space is devoted to what the conductor of that minor of journalistic good taste evidently considers the congenial task of proving that 4

Captain Bussell is a liar, The Leader of the Opposition is roundly abused simply because he believes the report of Mr Hawkins, the Clutha Stipendary, rather than the malignant misrepresentation of the little coterie of Prohibition shriekers who declare that Prohibition is a grand success in Clutha. It is a high compliment to be abused by the Prohibitionist.

When are we going to have a reasonably fair libel law in this colony ? Very soon I hope, but meanwhile I rejoice to see that no less a person than the Lord Chief Justice of England has been delivering himself of some sensible remarks upon the absurdity of persons bringing frivolous actions against newspapers. Just recently two such actions came before Lord Bussell, and in both cases the plaintiff was very properly non-suited. One was a case in which Mr Maskelyne, a wellknown conjurer and public entertainer (everyone who knows London knows Maskelynp’s clever show at the Egyptian Hall), brought an action against - a leading provincial paper, the Manchester Guardian. Mr Maskelyne, it may be remembered by many of my readers, went into a big spec at the time of the Diamond Jubilee, purchasing a workhouse in St. Paul’s church-yard, pulling it down and erecting a grand-stand on the site thereof. The enterprise turned out a disastrous falure, the prices demanded for the seats being too high and the public rush for the same not coming up to expectations. The Guardian's London correspondent, so it appears, seized the opportunity to poke a little fun at the unfortunate and well-known magician, the sting (to Mr Maskelyne) lying in a remark that “ it was unfortunate that the architect should be Mr Maskelyne, who had so often seriously deceived the public." Whereupon a libei action, the magician refusing to be comforted with the Guardian's explanation that no intelligent reader of the journal would imply any meaning from the article which would be discreditable to Mr M, Lord Eussell summed up dead against the plaintiff. The article, he said, was merely a “ bit of chaff." Mr Maskelyne’s business was, he continued, “ to deceive the public, and he does it with remarkable skill. I know he has often deceived me." The defendants had declared in their journal that they had not intended to “ impute anything dishonourable to Mr Maskelyne,” but that gentleman was not satisfied, and evidently thought he saw an opportunity to recoup himself some of his losses on the grandstand speb. But the jury said “ no libel," and the little game of “ sweating the paper " didn’t work out as well as had been expected.

Two other cases of libel were brought before the same court, the plaintiff being a Mr Fox, Registrar of the Croydon County Court, the defendants being two London evening journals, the Star and the Evening News. In these cases the complaint was that in the course of the reports of a certain scene in the Croydon Court, it was stated that an old gentleman who had been ejected by the Registrar’s orders, had been “ roared at" by the plaintiff. Upon this, if you please, the ingenious Mr Fox, probably “ egged on ” by lawyers of the Dodson and Fogg stamp, actually claimed heavy damages, the alleged ground being that Mr Fox had been held up “to ridicule and contempt ” in the Midland Circuit and in Lincolnshire where he is in the commission of the pe'ace. Could any more trumpery contention have been set up ? No wonder the jury did not wait for the Lord Chief Justice to sum up but dismissed the action with costs. Lord Russell, I notice, declared that “he really did not know what point libel were coming to now,” and was astonished that Mr Fox “ should take notice of such trivial affairs." Commenting [upon the above cases, the London press expresses a hope that the decisions will put a stop to - reckless and unfounded actions for libel.

Here in this advanced colony of New Zealand our libel law is actually worse than even the English law, and respectable journals are at the mercy of irresponsible, moneyless persons, who may bring the most trumpery actions against a paper, and put its proprietors to heavy expense without having a brass farthing to defray the costs in which they, the plaintiffs, may be mulcted. It is a case of “ heads I win, tails you lose" for these gentry, who are often, as newspaper men know only too well, “egged on" by the baser sort of petty attorneys. And yet the Law Society remains dumb on this evil, and the legislature, either stupid or ignorant on the important point of the press enjoying a reasonable liberty of comment, practically refuses redress,

I always feel sorry for those very worthy fellows, the “ Wellington specials," when once the session is over and they have to fall back so unreservedly upon their powers of imagination in order to work some more or less sensational pabulum for their readers outside the Empire City. That they do draw pretty extensively upon their imaginations may be exemplified by the following extracts from a “ Special political wire" published in the New Zealand Herald from “ Our Wellington Special":— It was stated some tune ago that the health of the Minister of Lands had completely broken down. He has not returned to official life since the rising of Parliament. The last Executive Council was held in Christchurch, it is believed, because Mr McKenzie was not equal to a journey to Wellington, having to return to his home in Shag Valley. Even Mr Seddon’s absence on the West Coast is commented upon as having an unusual political significance.

As a matter of fact, so far from Mr McKenzie’s health having completely broken down, and “ his not being equal to a journey to Wellington,” “ having to return to his home in Shag Valley," the burly “ Jock" has turned up in town looking the Very pink of condition, and as to his “ having to return to Shag Valley,” he was actually on his way to Wellington on the very day the Herald, published its veracious despatch from its ‘ ‘ Wellingtott special.” As for “Mr Seddon's absence on the West Coast being “ commented upon having an unusual political significance “ such comments may have been made by persons like the Herald's “ special,’* but hot by any sensible and decently informed folk, who knew that the Premier had been in Christchurch two days when the Auckland paper published its precious “ special.” Some of these “ specials ” must be very sleepy fellows —this i one in particular is either extremely gullible or lamentably ignorant.

In Mark Twain’s new book, “ More Tramps Abroad," a book which, although containing some unmistakeabie padding, has many good things in it-, the genial humourist has tried his hand at the manufacture of homely aphorisms of the Josh Billings order, but fortunately not in the “ spellin " V’hich made Josh at times so trying to read. Mark infuses d dash of cynicism into his “ maxims ” as may be seen from the following examples : The English are mentioned in the Bible : “ Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” Man is the Only Animal that Blushes. Or needs to. There are several good protections against temptation; but the surest is cowardice. Prosperity is the best protector of principle. Few of us can stand prosperity. Another man’s, I mean. The principal difference between a cat and a lie is that the cat hp,s only nine lives.

The presence of women as competitors in the labour market is becoming more and more of a grievance to, the English working men. The following is an extract from the report of a case in a London Court the other day :

Judge Bacon <; What does your wife

do for a living ? Defendant: Her dooty. (Laughter.) She ain’t one o’ these new-fangled new women there’s so much talk about.

She stops at ’ome and minds the babies, she does. She don’t go out to take the bread and butter out o’ poor men’s mouths.

The art of really smart punning didn’t die with Theodore Hook or Douglas Jerrold, if the following yarn told by Mr W. S. Caine, the English wit, b 9 true. Not long ago he was at a public dinner and offered five shillings to any one who would make a new pun on his name. “ Dont be in a hurry Caine, but hand over the five bob" said a fellow guest almost immediately. I wonder whether the punster was Sir Wilfred O. Lawson, who like Caine is a red hot prohibitionist but is never the less one of the wittiest men in England; quite a remarkable face seeing that prohibitionists as a rule are totally destitute of the saving grace of humour.

Mixed metaphor is not confined to political orators, if the following yarn, clipped from a Yorkshire paper, and sent me by a correspondent, be not merely ben trovato

A speaker at a religious meeting the other day remarked, “ There’s many a young man going along the Zionward road inclined to rest on his oars; but if wo buckle to our armour there is no fear but that we will go from strength to strength !” It was the same gentleman who asked an opponent once if he imagined that “ his intellect was grovelling in the dust ! M

Apropos to the foregoing I well remember in my younger days, hearing a preacher of what is known in the North of England as the “ ranter " class, holding forth on a text which he gave out as follows : “ The devil, he goeth about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour some persons 1”

Up to the present, judging by what one has read in the papers, the lady population of Dawson City, the capital of the Klondylce field, has been mainly of the “ dance hall" class, ladies who charge their partners a dollar a head for the honour of a dance, and whose devotion to “ old rye," “ gin cocktails," and “ brandy smashes," is as remarkable as their ultraBohemianism in the way of morals. But all this wicked state of> things, which is merely a reflex of the old California society as depicted by Bret Harte in his delightful earlier stories, is to undergo a change. Klondylte is to be invaded by sixty model women from New York, who were to leave for the field in December last. Each puts .£l6O into a common fund. When the women get to Dawson City they are going, I read, into various businesses. They take with them a portable hospital, four of the women being trained nurses, and there is one physician. Some of the women will open a hotel and hoardinghouse and run stores. One of them will start a circulating library. They believe their influence will exert a beneficial effect on the miners, in addition to proving financially profitable to themselves. And some of them are understood to believe that the chances of matrimony in the Klondike region are not remote. At any rate the lucky goldseeker who contemplates an adventure into the double life will not now have his choice of a partner confined to the easy-moralled, frowsy houris of the dance hall. Klondyke is improving.

It is a good many years since Scrutator was in Yorkshire and this must be his excuse for having dropped into error last week concerning the Sykes of Sledmere. A well-informed correspondent, W. W., sets me right as follows : Dear Scrutator, —In your last

week’s Echoes you are somewhat at sea as regards the “ Sykes of Sledmere." As a late tenant of the Sledmere estate of 20 years standing and who has resided the greater part of his life within hald a dozen miles of Sledmere Hall, and to whom both Sir Tatton and Lady Sykes ate well known, I think I- may safely presume to put Scrutator right as to some of his references to the late and present Baronets of Sledmere. In the first place the late Sir Tatton—or the “ Old Squire ” —certainly had no “mania" for building churches, what little was done in that respect during his regime — ; and . that chiefly restorative. —was accomplished through the late Lady Sykes’ efforts. The present Baronet has indeed been a most munificent donor to the Church of England in the East Biding of'Yorks. No less than twelve or fifteen churches has he totally rebuilt, besides making extensive and costly restorations to several others. At the present time he is about completing the building of a most beautiful and costly church in his park at Sledmere, within a stone’s throw of the Hall. I may state without fear of exaggeration, that Sir Tatton has spent on ecclesiastical buildings during the last 30 years not less than a quarter of a million. The present Baronet has also been far more successful as a breeder of bloodstock (horses) than ever the late Baronet was, and for years past the Sledmere yearling at Doncaster have averaged great prices. His success in this respect is attributed to his own good judgment as to what a “thoroughbred" should be and to keeping only a comparatively limited number of brood mares (not more than a score or so, whereas the “Old Squire" would have from 100 to 150) of the very best blood and winning records, and shrewdly mating them with the most successful sires, regardless of expense. I am sure Sir Tatton Sykes will have the sympathy at the present time of all Yorkshiremen and Yorkshire women who know anything of Sledmere and its baronet. Sir Tatton is a gentleman in the finest sense of the word, unostentatious, retiring and most sensitive; he will feel most acutely his name being dragged so prominently before the public. From the very beginning it has been a most ill-assorted union. Sir Tatton was fifty, her ladyship nineteen, at the time of their marriage. A case of “ autumn mated with spring"—and a gay young Spring at that —not one idea in common. The facts that Sir Tatton, as I have said, is most retiring, unostentatious, shunning society, is almost a recluse in. fact, and that her ladyship is the very opposite, a votary of a life of gaiety and pleasure, member of a family (the Bentincks) leaders in the world of society and sport, cousin to the “daredevil"Beresfords, are alone sufficient to account for her ladyships partiality for the green cloth, the turf, &c. Such being the case no wonder the final scene Qf such union has been

enacted in the law courts to the “ smirching" of an honored Yorkshire name—- “ For one sad lozel stains a name for aye ” “ However mighty in the olden time.” With reference to the now famous “piping" incident at Dargai, “Bushy" writes me as follows from Hunterville:— Dear Scrutator, —In common with other Scots up here I thank you for your interesting notes on the subject of Highland gallantry. You mention that feats similar to that of Piper Findlater are known to have occurred in the Crimean War. But if you will'only look up your Walter Scott you. can go back much further than the Crimean War and find a splendid instance of a piper’s gallantry on his native soil. Bead the 34th chapter of “ The Fair. Maid of Perth," in which occurs a passage describing a desperate battle fought between the Clan Chattan and the Clan Ouhele on the North Inch of Perth, and you will find the following:— “ The two pipers, who during the conflict had done their utmost to keep up the spirits of their brethren, now saw the dispute well nigh terminated for want of men to support it. They threw down their instruments, rushed desperately upon each other with their daggers, and each being more intent on dispatching than defending himseif, the piper of Clan Ouhele was almost instantly slain, and he of Clan Chattan mortally wounded. The last, nevertheless, again grasped his instrument, and the pibroch of the clan yet poured its inspiring notes over the Clan Chattan, while the dying minstrel had breathed to inspire it.”