THE BYSTANDER.

New Zealand Times, Volume LVII, Issue 2549, 29 June 1895, Page 2 (Supplement)

THE BYSTANDER.

When found make a note of.” —Capt. Cuttle

A mania for treasure hunting, says tho London Globe, has cropped up at Lucknow from time to time since the mutiny. The latest quest is the search for the jewelled crown of the ex-King of Oadh, which is engaging the attention of some Lucknow officials and a Calcutta treasure seeker. An old soldier of the 32nd Regiment is stated to have given on his death-hod particulars of the place in which ho buried tho crown; but the most careful search has failed to reveal it. The latest report is that the searchers were tiring of their task, and wore likely soon to abandon it. In connection with treasure-seeking in India, it may be interesting to recall the methods of old campaigners during the mutiny. The regular practice of the natives was to bury their treasure, and people in search of loot used to bring a "mussuck" of water, which was poured over the ground where a “cache” was suspected. If the water sank in at once it waa a pretty certain sign that the ground had been recently dug up, and digging that spot generally turned out to bo profitable. It may bo remembered that in “ Loot ” Mr Rudyard Kipling refers to this ingenious dodge.

A Dunedin debt-collector was lately taken down by a Chinaman. Ho had to collect a debt of LI from ono (say) Too Kwid, greengrocer. Ho had called repeatedly at Too Kwid’s, but was told T.K. was “ill,” or “just gone out,” and was going to prepare a summons. Bat one morning a knowing Celestial called on tho collector and made known to him that he could got in T.K.'s money if tho collector would allow him something for his trouble —say, give him a receipt for 20s and accept 13s. He also promised to see the matter settled in a week's time, . but-Jfc might take longer, as Too JCwid WAsvja hard nut. Tho debt-collector agreed—he would take anything rather than sue a Chinaman. The debt-collecting Chinky called sure enough at the quoted time with 13s, and demanded receipt for 20s. It occurred to tho business man that it would bo as well to get his Chinese co-worker’s name before he left, as he might come in useful for future transactions. " I say,” ho asked, “ what’s your name ?’’ “Name me?” said tho Chinaman, half-way out of tho door—“ me Too Kwid.”— Bulletin.

Tho following extract from a London exchange of a recent date will bo read with interest;—“Tho ways of tho bankruptcy law are past finding out. How many men aro thoro in London, bold of front and brazen of tongue, who, after passing through a bankruptcy examination, have paid a lordly shilling in the pound and betaken themselves righteously to fresh fields and pastures new? They have their reward. They are treated with what it is proper to call ‘ every consideration ’ —to encourage the others. But how if a debtor pays all his debts and refuses the bankruptcy examination ? How is ho treated in tho best of all possible worlds ? Why, he goes to prison. That is what has happened to Mr Morgan Charles. Ho has been in prison for nine months for declining to disclose his affairs, and a few days ago at Aberdaro ho was again committed to prison. Yet his estate has boon sold and has yielded ‘considerably inoro than 20s in tho pound.’ What a logical and justice-loving people wo are, to be sure!”

The first number of tho new nagazine, London Home, contains an interview with Mr Mylchroest, well known as ono ot tho earliest and richest friends of Mr Rhodes,

" the Groat Amalgamator ” in South Africa. He saya it is true that there are failures in South Africa and all the other colonies. " But I do not know that the failures make successes any the more difficult. And, after all, the colonies supply no moro failures than the home country. The other day a friend of mino advertised for a clerk at .£l2O per annum to go out to a sickly climate—it was the Congo—and for this jxior post he received no fewer than 123 applications. Were not these failures ? The fact is, we have the failures in life with us everywhere. The extent of the failures varies in degree, but wo can take it that a man fails in life if-ho fails to attach so much of this world’s goods as to protect him, with his family', in old age. But there is another sort of failure in life, and, if it is not quite so common, it is among the moat tragic and pathetic of all. X mean the man of great accumulated wealth, who labours all day and every day to provide for his children, as ho will say, though in reality he is slaving in this way because ho does not know how to take his ease. He does a bad thing by himself, and very often a wicked thing by his own children, in leaving them to spend money which he himself never learned how to use, which they have never had the opportunity of learning how to earn.”

In a recent lecture Lord Rayleigh briefly discussed the question how we knew from what direction a sound came. Tho point was one of considerable difficulty. The fact that we had two ears was supposed to supply an answer, since the right ear, if turned towards the sound, might bo supposed to hear more than the left. That theory might hold for sounds coming from the side 5 but what if they were in front or behind ? By experiment, he had found that with pure sounds, such as were given by a tuning fork, tho ear could tell with certainty their direction when they were to the right or left, but was quite at a loss if they were in front or behind. But with other sounds the case was different; the ear could easily judge the direction, wherever it was, of sounds such as were produced by the human voice or by clapping the hands.

The announcement that the German women in South Australia did not intend to take advantage of the franchise has roused the clergy to action. Five German pastors have issued an appeal to the women to alter their determination. They say:—"The law which gives women the right to vote has been forced upon us; wo Gormans have not asked for it. But now that it is law, wo should bo the greatest fools if wo did not make use of it. We therefore earnestly ask all German women to have their names registered and to vote at the next election. In the end, it may be possible, with tho aid of the German women, to abolish this useless law, or, if that is not feasible, wo cau at least oppose its hurtful tendencies.”

Handwriting as a diagnostic sign in obscure cases of cerebral or mental disease has lately been invested with much importance by the Italian School of Anthropology, the head of which (Dr Cosaro Lombroso, the eminent Turin professor), says the Lancet, has just issued a little volume on the subject. It is entitled “ Grafologia,” and is published by XTlrioo Hoepli, of Milan. A history of graphiology, going into the handwriting of individui norrnali, and showing how it illustrates individual character, precedes an elaborate examination of the handwriting of individui anor~ 7)io li, in which the distinctive features of the cursive style assumed by epileptics, lunatics and “ hypnotics ” is described with great minuteness, aided by the copious reproduction of facsimiles. This is much the most interesting portion of the treatise, and Dr Lombroso’s immense experience as a medico-psychological expert in criminal trials is displayed to special advantage. The “ range of variation ” within which the ; same individual, healthy as well as insane, will modify his handwriting according to his cerebro-montal condition is one of the many interesting inductions arrived at by Dr Lombroso.

M. Andree, the celebrated Swedish aeronaut, who proposes to undertake a voyage to the North Polo in a balloon, is the chief engineer of the Stockholm Patent Office. He has executed a number of aeronautical ascents, with the assistance of a fund which is controlled by the Swedish Academy of Science. He always ascends alone in a balloon of 30,000 cubic feet, built in Paris. M. Andree, in 1893, crossed the Baltic from Stockholm, and landed on a deserted island forming a part of the Finnish Archipelago. He has expressed the belief that, in view of the favourable conditions which the Polar regions afforded for aerial voyaging, and the great progress

lately made in aeronautics, a balloon could make the voyage from Spitzbergen over the North Pole in about thirty day. The cost of the enterprise would be about 130,000 kroner (about L 7220). There has always been a great fascination about the Pole to the adventurous —“ the glamour of the Arctic/’ Mr Stead has called it—hut it is at present a sad story of failure.

The New Woman. Oh, the twentieth century (p r ' ! What a wonderful thing she will be! She’ll evolve from a mystical whirl A woman unfettered and free ; No corset to crampon her waist, No crimps to encumber her brain ; Unafraid, bifurcated, unlaced. Like a goddess ot old she will reign!

She’ll wear bloomers—a matter of course, She will vote, not a question of doubt; She will ride like a man on a horse, At the club late at night she’ll stay out; If she chances to love, she’ll propose ; To blush will be quite out of date ; She’ll discuss politics with hor beaux, And out-talk her masculine mate !

She’ll bo up in tho science of things ; Sho will smoko cigarettes; she will swear If the servant a dunning note brings Or the steak isn’t served np with care. No longer she’ll powder her nose Or cultivate even a curl, Nor bother with fashions or clothes— This twentieth century girl!

Her voice will he beard in the land ; She’ll dabble in matters of State; In counsel hor word will command, And her whisper will laws regulate. She will stand ’noath her banner unfurled, Inscribed with her principles new; But the question is—What in the world The new century baby will do? —Few York Truth.

“The faculty,” says tho Bulletin, “adores terrible names. Through the Dean Poisoning Commission the public knows more about ‘ peripheral neuritis ’ than it knows about influenza; and yet, a month ago, not one reader in 10,000 had ever heard of such an awful thing. -JVhich, awful thing is merely a symptom of several ‘complaints,’ and every hardened old sot who has ‘ suffered ’ a prolonged ‘ recovery’ has ,psdbably had it a hundred times. ‘Wot’s or matter, ole f’ler ?' ‘ Got the cramps in my toes, knees and hands.’ ‘ Cramps ? By Jove! old man, you've got peripheral neuritis !’ Then the hardened old sot will try and recollect a prayer, and give up his drunken-ghost.

An extraordinary rumour is going about London. It is said that a well-known West-end incumbent has received a gag as a present from a section of his congregation. An anonymous donor once sent the late Prebendary Calthrop tho princely sum of fourpenoe, urging him to have his hair cut. The Prebendary announced tho tact in church, adding, says tho Pall Mull Gazette, that ho had never paid less than sixpence, and suggesting that his adviser should send the balance of this sum.

Sir Patrick O’Brien, M.P., whoso death was recently announced, was one of the raciest characters in the House of Commons, where he had a seat for 35 years. His picturesque description of Mr W. Redmond as “tho young sea-serpent from County Clare ”is well remembered. Sir Patrick was very fond and proud of his nephew, Mr T. C. O’Brien, tho famous cricketer. On one occasion tho Houso was droning away in the dog days over Supply. Sir Patrick caught the Speaker’s eye. “Mr Speaker,” he said, “we are simply wasting our time in this place. I move that wo/adjourn and see my nephew bat at Lord’s.” Tho motion was not put from the chair, q’ho cricketer succeeded his uncle in tho baronetcy.

The English papers are full of stories — good, bad and indifferent about Sir Patrick. A writer in The Realm tells of an amusing interchange of courtesies between the Knight and that famous wit and politician, Mr Bernal Osborne. “ Mr Bernal Osborne once encountered Sir Patrick O’Brien on the hustings—at a time when it had not yet entered into the mind of man to conceive a Bill the object of which should be to check the exuberance of election oratory. The scene was Waterford —if I recollect aright aiid the passage of arms between the worthies was as offensive as possible. Bernal Osborne must, I think, have had the best of the encounter,, for he aroused the passions of tho mob so much that ho had eventually to escape from his hotel over the roofs of the adjoining houses. One of Bernal Osborne’s retorts has become historic. Sir Patrick alluded to the notoriously brittle threads that had bound Osborne to successive seats, and denounced him as a man who had been rejected by seven constituencies. In reply, the rejected one indulged in a marvellous imitation of his opponent’s manner, and when he had apparently exhausted his powers of ridicule —which were considerable—he solemnly concluded, ' But, gentlemen, to be serious. Sir Patrick has described me as being the rejected of seven constituencies; and when Sir Patrick says that, I hurl the insinuation back in his teeth —if he has any.’ It was at this stage—t-O quote a vulgar, but expressive, phrase—that tho band played,

Though there is little humour in the historical works of tho late Professor Freeman, there is plenty of it —chiefly of a somewhat sledge-hammer typo in his recently-published letters. Obscurity was, abovo all things, his bugbear. He remarks with surprise and relief that in private life Browning “ did not need a dragoman/ and comments on an eminent philosopher as follows" They say that his style ie formed on German writers, and that an acquaintance with the language would make on appreciate him; but I do not see what is gained by that so long as the affected ass professes to talk English.”

Enerqetiq Pqi4TJoian ; Here’s a pretty moss! I’ve been invited to deliver a speech on bimetallism. Piu?nd ; Well, what’s the matter with that ? B.P.s I can’t. My private secretary says he doesn't know anything about it. —London Globe. "I have known several good story tellers,” says Mr Joseph Hatton, in his Cigarette Papers in the London People. “ It is characteristic of the race that they never spare themselves. Some of tho brightest things that you hear about Mr Laboucheve, and which seem to leave him as tho butt or the victim, are the stories ho has told of .himself. Yizotelly gives a reminiscence of Sala, without mentioning names, in which Sala, requesting a cabman to drive him to Barnes’s (a Haymaiket tavern) was landed at Barnes’s Common and loft there, is an anecdote which tho famous journalist tolls against himself. Abraham Lincoln could not resist the grim humour of the rebuff his son Robert suffered at the hands of the railroad superintendent at Washington, who, in sympathy with the President of the Road, was a staunch Whig, and bitterly opposed to Lincoln, Contemplating an important excursion, Lincoln sent his son Robert to order a special train of cars. ‘My road doesn’t run special trains for the President/ said the superintendent. * What!’ said Robert, ‘ didn’t you furnish a special train for the funeral of President Harrison ?* ‘ Yes/ said the "superintendent, stroking his whiskers, * and if you will only bring your father hero in that shape you shall have the very best special train on the road.’ ” The Financial Times tells a story that is going the rounds in banking circles of a chief clerk who, having completed twentyfive years of meritorious service, naturally j looked for something handsome in the way of an increase of salary. When the day arrived the director who had been longest connected with tho board was seen, all beaming with smiles, approaching the faithful member of the staff, and the eyes of the whole office were turned upon him. He drew from his pocket a long envelope, and a whisper passed round that it contained a Bank of England note for £IOO at least. The chief clerk would fain have put the letter into his desk, but the director stood by, and suggested that he should open it. It was found to contain a short letter congratulating him upon his long and faithful service, and also—a recent photo of tho director. Paralysed by his emotions, the clerk was dumb, and could only look up in the director’s face. " What do you think of it?” asked tho director. " Oh,” replied the clerk, “ it’s exactly like you, sir ” I

How the Novel of the Future will Bead. —“ Adolphus,” said the new girl, in tones of strong, vibrant tenderness, “ be not afraid, sweet one; look up and tell me you

will share my lot. ' I cannot offer you fame or fortune at present, but the path to both is open before mo. This very week I have been made legal adviser to the Maidens’ and Matrons’ Bank, the Salesladies’ Trust Company (Limited), and the Shoppers’ Railroad Association. Rely upon my strong heart and willing hand, dearest, and be mine!” Adolphus, trembling and blushing, toyed with the flower in his buttonhole. It was her gift. She drew nearei to bim; their eyes met; and with one yielding sigh he dropped his head upon her stalwart shoulder and whispered “Yes!” —Topical Times.

“I have had some curious experiences in my time," I once heard Mr Leslie Ward, the famous Vanity Fair caricaturist, say, writes a contributor to the Westminster Budget. “General Ignatieff was staying at Claridge’s, so I packed up, drove off, ordered a bedroom, and even called for hot water, when suddenly Claridgo came down and ordered me out of tho house; and I could not persuade him that I was not a Nihilist bent on the General’s destruction. However, a glimpse of him as ho stepped into his carriage served my purpose well. Cardinal Newman, too, was a difficulty. A friend asked me purposely down to stay in Birmingham. At Huston Station, on my way, who should I see upon the platform but the old Cardinal himself! He went into the refreshment-room, ordered a plate of soup, and I did the same. In a few minutes I had all I wanted. However, I went down to Birmingham, and next day called at the Oratory, and asked to see the “ father.” To my alarm a priest suddenly came forward, and—did 1 wish to consult his, Eminence ? If so, he would try and procure roc an audience! Hero was a dilemma. I could not say I had como to caricature the old gentleman. The priest left to utako inquiries, and I fled. I wonder if they counted tho spoons afterwards.’

According to a writer in ono of the magazines, the Prince of Wales’s intimate friends and habitual associates are Lord Carrington, Sir Frederick Johnstone, Lord Londonderry, Lord Lonsdale, tho Duke of Aberoorn, Lord Hastings, Sir Allan Young, Mr Christopher Sykes, Lord Rosebory, Lord and Lady Warwick, Mr Alfred Rothschild, Baron Hirsoh, Sir Henry Caleraft, tho Duke and Duchess of Devonshire, Lord and Lady Cadogan, and last, but not least, tho American-born Duchess of Manchester, who, with her children, is a frequent and welcome guest at Sandringham.

Leo XIII. has far outstripped the average ago and length of reign of the Roman Pontiffs. Since Peter, there have been 293 Popes, of whom 11 only have reigned longer than 17 years; and since the Papal See returned to Rome from Avignon only 16 Popes have lived past the age of 80. It used to he believed that no Pope could live to reign longer than 25 years, the period which, it is said, tho Apostle Paul ruled in Rome; but this belief was shattered by Pio None, who roignod 32 years. It is said tho present Pope believes he will live to he 90, it having been foretold in his youth that ho would do so.

Intelligence in Boston is not confined to human beings, but is liberally manifested by the brute creation, to judge by the strange tale of tho resentful cat narrated by the Boston Transcript. In the house of a family long resident in that cultured city, there dwells a big gray cat named Blossom, made much of by members of the household, and greatly potted as a rule by visitors. But one day a young man came to stay for a few days, who was an inveterate tease, and, in spite of pleadings and protestations, he determined to take Blossom in hand. Her ears wore greeted with the unfamiliar terms “ Old rascal,” “Scapegrace,” and kindred names, until the astounded cat did not know what had come to pass. One morning she was missing for several hours, and was not to be discovered in any of her familier haunts. At last loud cries from tho chambermaid revealed Blossom’s whereabouts. The indignant cat had visited tho guest’s bedroom, and revenged herself upon his nightshirt, which lay in tatters on the floor. Puss was severely scolded, and everyone cautioned to keep the door shut, but all in vain. Tho cat would find her way in, and hide till tho chambermaid had done her work, and then renew her onslaughts on tho young man's clothes, if any could bo found, or failing them, on tho pillow-cases. Her enemy tried to soothe her feelings, but she would have none of him, and ho was glad to cut his visit short. Since then Blossom has entirely recovered her usual amiability, and has never been known to destroy anything from that day to this. The cat bids fair to oust tho snake as a subject for American humour.

There has been a strange discovery of a lost will of a deceased farmer in the Aberdeenshire parish of Forguo. He was a bachelor, and had no friends as heirs, and his property passed to the Crown. All his goods were disposed of except a pocket Bible and a fow old books, which were given to his old and faithful housekeeper. These she sent to her people in the North, and went to fill a place in Glasgow. On her return, her people told her that mice were destroying tho books, and she removed them, examining them the while. To her astonishment, she found in tho Bible a scrap of paper, which proved to be her old master’s will, by which he left her all ho was possessed of. The Crown will have to refund .£2OOO. —Glasgow Herald,

As an instance of the fact that very eminent Q.C.’s sometimes defend—and win great renown in doing so—men whom they know to bo guilty, a story is told of the late Chief Justice Cockburn, who, when practising at the Bar, on one occasion failed to secure the acquittal of a man who was being tried for his life. The prisoner was sentenced to be hanged on the 20th of the month, and as his counsel passed him in the dock he plucked him by the gown. "I haven’t got justice, Mr Cockburn,” ho said. “ No,” replied the Q.C., gravely, “not yet; bub you will—on the twentieth.”

How babies aro announced in South Africa.—The following quaint advertisement is from a South African paper:—

Birth. rT It was on Thursday, at 0.30a.m.,ih0 4th of April, 1805, that in the passive retirement of C. M. do Tarnowsky family, at Bonne Terre Poanix, a lovely babe named: Eliacin Milton Lubomir has drawn his first breath of life, on this earthly world. All generous Christian friends, kindly to pray our Heavenly Father, to protect, this puny, living spring'through time and for eternity *’

Mr James Bailey, who is the new Conservative member for Walworth, is a striking instance, says an English paper, of the rapidity with which some modern fortunes have been acquired. He is only 45, was son of a small farmer at Mattishall, in He came up to London at 20 and took a small hotel in Gloucester road. South Kensington, then covered with market gardens. Ten years* hard and successful work there enabled him to buy the site of and to build thereon tho present Bailey’s Hotel. The Princess Louise was interested in the new enterprise, and now it has become tho "swagger” place for rich colonials, and all such visitors. Last year i he sold tho hotel to Spiers and Ponds, Limited, for over J-300,000, of which *8150,000 was set down as the value of the goodwill. He became a director of Spiers and Ponds, and is also a director of the big Harrod’s Stores, South Kensington, and of D. H. Evans and Co., a mammoth drapery company in Oxford street, Mr Bailey has made his pile practically in 20 years, and now he is spending it. Ho has a large house in Harrington Gardens near his old hotel, and last autumn he gave .£60,000 for tho Shortgrove estate, near Saffron Walden, in north-west Essex. He is a generous giver to good causes, and prides himself on being a self-made man.