AT THE CAPITAL

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1847, 31 July 1907, Page 35

AT THE CAPITAL

THE NEW RUMOURS. A Word Concerning Sixteen Coming Newspapers and the Beautiful Young Men who are about to Beget Revolutions. The man in the street (he ie somewhat of an anachronism, but he'll serve Ins ancient purpose as a tag for yet a little) is very eager and loquacious in Wellington just now, feeling that he has his stub finger on the pulee of portents. It every man's story is to be believed, there are shortly to be published in this city about sixteen new newspapers. A white and wistful horde of beautifully skiliul and magniloquently modest young men has been engaged by these sixteen vague n ew proprietaries regardless of expense; and these young gentlemen, profound in wisdom and of' courage high (that sounds like a quotation, but on my ©acred word it isn't), are to beget revolutions ana. to send all existing newspaper© whimpering miserably to the dogs. It's a pretty scheme, if the gods agree. There ie nothing else in the world quite so fine in promise as the newspaper that has not yet appeared; and the revolutions that beautiful young men (profound in wisdom and of courage high) do strenuously threaten to beget are always very splendid revolutions indeed—in the threatening. In Wellington, one hears talk of these things in barbers’ shops, in tramcars, at funerals, and in many places where the virtues of abstinence are honoured in tlid breach. The popular imagination is so frantically fecund in the matter of new evening papers that one tones count. There is astonishing conflict or diversity, too. of rumoured titles. The paper that is to Be “The Evening Ensign: the Organ of Sanity" in your morning tram, has become “The Evening Spoof: with which is incorporated the Ten Tribulations," by the time you reach your office. It is delicious, but really most confusing: and in due course, .1 made no doubt, these glamours will die down. And there shall still be cakes an' ale. Meantime, one rejoice© to spread the joyful tiding". The whole sixteen new newspapers (shortly to appear) are to make a strong point of “features." There is to be, such a demand for “erudite" and “brilliant" stuff that it almost seems that I shall soon be staggered by the offer of a salarv, and the dust of exodus from the Education Department will be an awful thin 0- to see. A serious attempt is to bo made to secure “expert" criticism of this and of that. What are known as interviews will be “gone in for," more and more unto the perfect day. Candour will be restrained only at those points where it might tend to bring -’he blush of. embarrassment to the cheek of politics. The ladies' columns and the social columns will be “done” bv quite superior persons imported (with 369 trunks) from Sydney. The reporting staffs will be encouraged and besought to write sonnets and rondeaux for the brightening of the local columns. (It is reasonable to believe that the effect of this innovation will be extremely striking.) There is a wild rumour that Mr T. M. \Y i'for will accept a retainer of 100 b guineas a year to resign from the Law Society and edit a strictly novel column headed “Every Man His Own Lawyer, or The Biter Bit"; but as to this at least th is no certainty. There are etill other rumours; but my head aches. And meantime, apropos des bottes, 1 take this opportunity to advertise lost property; and when th© claimant shows his face, I shall thank him to hand me a guinea to cover the cost of this advertisement. On Saturday night I was goring home with the sausages, when I overtook a gentleman of apparent substance. As I neared him, he dropped a slip of paper. But before I could reach him to restore the slip, he had hopped lightly into a cab and whirled away. This was in Willis street. On the slip, there were written these inexplicable verses, rvhich I publish here to assist in identification.

A Pi3AN FROM THE POST. Though old I'm still pursuing, and I do not dread the morrow, And I chuckle with intention in the grey drawn face of Sorrow, For the Graces still delight me and the Furies may go hang: Glad I chortle, care defying. And I've no moTe time for sighing Than I had in—now, where was it?— when I launched the “Boomerang When I prodded 'em with gusto in the frisky “Boomerang”! Gad! the skies are gold in autumn... They remember what I taught 'em When a tawpy youth stood by me and I launched the “Boomerang”! In the seething pot they cackle, these financiers; and their capers Make me merry sport and joyous as they threaten with new papers; For I've laughed between the millstones as I laboured with the gang. Paragraphs and puffs and notions— I have turned 'em out in oceans... Lord! I used to buy 'em wholesale when I ran the “Boomerang”! When the morning stars sang sweetly just to greet the “Boomerang”! Subs and critics and reporters, Mr Horseleech and his daughters, Battened on my lordly paysheet when I bossed the “Boomerang”! Let 'em all come!... What do I care! Let 'em rip and scratch and hustle Till their bally throats are tattered! If they think their silly fuss'll Make me blink, they’re—very simple. (Gum! I almost wrote some slang!) Let 'em come, Dutch courage in 'em... Quick as they cau come, I'll skin em. Threaten me with new nice papers! Me, who owned the “Boomerang ! (Syme was just a raw beginner till he saw the “Boomerang' ! Mark these verses, every ninny! I've bought worse ones for a guinea, When I st*x>d a splendid stalwart and Hmig far the “Bnmneranir 1

The modesty of these lines made a. striking appeal to me; but it, when tne owner comes along with tlie guinea toi this advertisement, he'll throw m an extra guinea or two for lagniappe, IJI write him some verses that aie worth while. Verses, whether he has been through the mill or not, are really not quite his line. Throwing, thunderbolts makes a man's hand heavy. A MYSTIC IN THE MAKING. From Dunedin a Budding Maeter- ' linck, Apparently Influenced by One Alice, Croons to the Stare, and is Discreetly Encouraged. I am always glad to give gentle consideration to the ebullitions of the young idea; but certain lines that are sent to me from Dunedin leave me doubting. To start with, they are mystic in their tone, and the modern man desires to read as lie runs. A New Zealand Maeterlinck would be all very well and very fine; but he’d need to emigrate before he starved. In these lines, again, there is a suggestion of Lewis Carroll, who wrote things of this sort rather well, and is now dead. Still, as the young idea must not be wantonly suffocated or primed away in its tender beginnings, I print the verses without further comment. If you want to know what they mean, I can't tell you; so please don t bother. A CLISPTIC CARROLL. Where yearmuring couples Blithesome clobn , Beneath the brellow glooghng stare, Suaft glows suffuse the peebering moon And lithly gruntles rubeate Mars. The Pleiades with memories dreathe And Sirius b I oops his oriflamme, While 'Tilda dreens her skrobes to breathe Gluggestions of the midnight tram. The night is faint with blispering sighs, Reluctant zephyrs pieeple past; Moist eyes are pregning hysterias, And pleasure is too gleet to last. Ah, youth!... the couples Blithesome squoo, And still the gloosomo stars are kind; But clipportunesomeness for you And me has fleth a down the vlind! JOVE B. D. BAYETTS. There is something in this, too, that seems to suggest‘intent ta parody Longfellow or Mr Arthur Adams; and parodies I can't 8 * a-bear. However (and with wfiat recklessness you will), the young man is bidden to proceed. l'ar be it from us to assist nature in repressing your mute, inglorious Miltons!

THE DAILY ORDEAL Of the Tram Torture, the Influence of Straphanging on the Muscles, and the Diversity of Strange Contusions that Provokes a Dearth of Cabbages. My friend Harold Ashton Qwlio vvr.s in San Francisco when the little hills clapped their hands that time) assures me that he knows of nothing more exciting than earthquake. That is due to the fact that, when he is in Wellington, he either walks or rides in cabs. The excitement of riding in a Wellington tram is a thing only to be suggested-, the sort of thing that even a Mexican mule-driver could not adequately describe. It is the vicissitudes of tramtravel that give all Wellington women of this generation the general appearance of Sandow girls. Straphanging, however uncomfortable, is tlie finest exercise m the world to develop your fore-arm and enlarge your vocabulary. That is why suburban curates in, this city always look so penitent and meek, and why every person with sharp knees and elbows becomes a flagrant public nuisance. While the climate tends to make one joyous and glad (I dare say), the torture of tram-travel makes one bitter and cynical and gives a vicious bite to the bluest day. Une reaches town in the morning, a mass of inflamed contusions and misplaced bumps; one reaches lioine in the evening dog-tired and discouraged, a sensitive staggering bruise. Whom tne gods would slay, they first send to live at Kilbirnie; and I am creditably informed that no really nice girl can marry a man from Island Bay. Even the newspaper men are abandoning cabbage-cul-ture, and crowding into the city. Hangers-on at the Opera House assure me sadly as how Mr lioyle aint the gentleman he was. I myself only travel a single penny-section, but a recent photograph of my ribs-makes me positively weep. The Mayor drives his own motorcar now. Not for nothing. And Mr James McMahon 6ays that he has a new and most brotherly pity for all men of towering stature. Well?

A MYSTERIOUS PROGRAMME. A Manuscript Found on the Quay Provokes Interest, Starts Regret, and Defies Conjecture. While talking of chance finds and extraordinary documents, perhaps somebody can explain this apparent programme, which I picked up on Lambton quay on that wet day a week or two ago. It has puzzled me much, because tne project (if ever seriously entertained) was certainly abandoned. So do charitable intentions occasionally come to naugnt. GIVE HIM A CHAJSICE ! ! ARBOR DAY. THEATRE ROYAL. (Theatre Kindly Lent by Messrs Join. Fuller and Sjiisj Part I. Pianoforte Solo, “Mignon,” Thomas. MR BARCLAY, M.11.R. Song, “ Will-o'-the-YV isp

MR MARTIN KEN NED Y. y:jaai Quarette, “They Kissed," American THE OITY WAK^rHBRS. (Messrs J. F. Scott, A. It. Fraser, W, S. La Trobe, and Nelson Illingworth.) Polite Contortions, “Apollo’s Gambols/ Original, MR VV. ALEXANDER. (Patrons are requested to keep their seats during the progress of this item, as too vociferous applause disturbs the performer. Floral tributes (with cards, if desired) may be left at the stage-door at 8.30 p.m.J Dramatic Recital, “The City of Dreadful Night," Original. MR HARRY NORMAN. (This striking, monologue was written by Mr Norman in Dunedin for ffc conversazione of the Early Settlers' Association, wnich was suddenly postponed. It is now given for the first time in public, copyright by tne autnor.) Dramatic bcene, “Ah, que la morte/’ Verdi, MR BxrfiY ROYLE AND <MR BEN F U LLEIR. Interval for Refreshments. Part 11. Violin Solo, “Cavatina," Raff, MR JOSEBBL MAN DEL. Recital, “now we Beat the Favourite,* 1 Cordon. REV. ROBERT SHIRER. CLUB-S WINGING EXTRAORDINARY, Messrs F. Grady, J. Dykes, W. Crichton, Andy Smart, W. F. Skerrett, J. K. Sidey, M.E.R., G. P. Brown, C. M. Banks, G. Winder, John Duthie, J. P. Luke, and P. Gough. God Save the King ! ! ! -F.M.