ECHOES OF THE WEEK.

New Zealand Times, Volume LXVI, Issue 3256, 13 October 1897, Page 1 (Supplement)

ECHOES OF THE WEEK.

i Satire’s my weapon, bat I’m too discreet ' To run amuck and lilt at all 1 meet. Pope. B Y “ SCRUTATOR IN “ N.Z. MAIL.” There is no end to possible development of the cycle, and in this connection it may be worth noting- that in the “ Railway Cycle," the Americans may have evolved a germ of potential development. This is a four-wheeled machine, with light hubs and tyres, geared like an ordinary cycle, but with an axle in addition to the diamond frame between each pair of wheels, constructed to run at great speed with a minimum of exertion to the rider along the standard guage of American railways. It Is, in fact, so far as its present utility goes, a kind of glorified trolley, which enable's a railway official to transport himself to any spot where his services may be required with* almost the speed and none of the expenses of a special train. It is, however, not in the present utility, hut in the prospective scope of the machine that the interest of the railway cycle lies. Without multiplication of wheels, the number of riders could be increased and the speed become proportionately greater ; while the cost of laying down light lines to bear the merely nominal weight of such traffic would be small indeed. What, then, is there to prevent railway companies in the future constructing feeder lines to each of their stations from all the towns and villages within a radius of, say, ten miles, collecting passengers and luggage in time to meet each train ? Once started on the rails, a railway cycle continues to travel at a high rate of speed almost without perceptible effort on the part of its oooupdrits, provided that no steep gradients are encountered > and there is no difficulty whatever in providing the machine with a brake powerful enough to control it even down the steepest incline'.’

“ A prophet has no honour in his own country." So one would remark after reading how “ Joe ” Chamberlain was recently chaffed in a certain song in a new comic opera, a local production, staged at Birmingham in August last. One verse runs as follows: —

If you’ve a mighty grievance ’gainst the Government that reigns And you choose an opportunity to aid it; Well, to bully them and lecture them you take

enormous pains, And your view is cheered by Irishmen, who share it. Then a gentleman arises with an eyeglass in

his eye. And an orchid in his coat that looks so showy; When he smashes up your arguments and leaves you high and dry. Then you wish the Speaker hadn't picked on— (Tavm) 1 repeat you wish he hadn’t picked on (Yawn),

Though I ought to be in bed, I can recollect with dread That his speeches all are powerful and goey. He has tackled me before And I don’t want any more, Oh 1 an aggravating gentleman is Joey. This brought the house down—Binning, ham being his constituency.

Time was when the horse-stealer provided the newspapers of Western America with a plentiful supply of pabulum in the way of semi-humorous pars. But even in such “ horsey ” states as Texas the inevitable “ bike ” yarn is now displacing the horse story. Judge Lynch has now to taka under his consideration the cases of gentlemen who illegally annex “ bikes ” instead of horses or “ mewels,” and it is not surprising, therefore, that the funny man of the Galveston Courier should emulate the immortal Wegg, and “ drop into verse ” after the following fashion: —

’Twas early in the morning—such a morning as nowhere On earth except iu Texas has that quality of air ’ Which makes men’s moral nature seem to

want to act more square. The group bad oorae together at the meeting of the ways. With a party in the middle that they

didn’t stop to praise. As they hitched him on a tether and boused

him on a raise.. ’ 11 The last sad rites were over, when a

stranger passed that way. Who was quick enough to notice that the deuce had been to pay, And the party who had paid it didn’t have

■ a word to say. “ Stealin’ bosses ?” asked the stranger, as he pulled up at the dyke. Nodding towards the swinger. “ Well, not quite,” said “ Wire Pence Ike " ; “ There isn’t a boss in Texas—this sneezer stole a bike.”

Commenting on the famous duel between Prince Henri d’Orleans and the Comte de Turin, the Times sarcastically expressed the opinion that the elaborate conditions drawn up by the seconds wets for the express purpose of preventing the combatants doing each other any serious injury, and .pointed out that the whole affair was just one of those self-adver--tisements that Prince Henri delights in. The Daily Chronicle took exception to this and considering the sneer quite uncalled for, gravely rebuked the levity of its contemporary Truly this is the day of topsy-turvydom. Imagine the democratic Chronicle administering a reproof to the “Thunderer.” A politician who was wont to gird himself for the fray at the battle-cry of “ the constition is in danger,” and who regarded the Times as the only paper fit for a gentleman to read, would have a fit of apoplexy at the very idea.

The London police-court reporter, especially if his duties take him “ down East,” has some rare opportunities for picking up humorous items. A case in point occurred recently at the Whitechapel County Court, where a'Polish Jew in “reach-me-down" line was sueing a pedlar countryman for the price of three suits of clothes, made for himself and his boy. The defendant' said he would not pay as tho “clothes didn’t fit.” Upon this the following amusing scene took place:— The plaintiff: They no fit ? Yat for

you vear dem? The defendant: X never vore dem. Mein honourable schudge, dey is here. Judge Bacon: Let me see them. The clothes were handed to his Honour, . who, after inspecting them, said : These clothes have, never been worn; the lining shows that. The plaintiff: Der Herr Gott! (Laughter.) I cad half Vitechapel call to say he vear dem. Judge Bacon: Put the clothes on. The defendant divested himself of coat and waistcoat and put on the disputed waistcoat.

judge Bacon: Put on the trousers. The defendant: Vat I Must I der ’ drbusers in der couri: put on ? (Laughter). He was conducted to the counsel’s robing - room. On his return Judge Bacon called him up on to the bench and closely scrutinised the clothes. ■ The plaintiff: Dat von lovely suit. Yot for he say it no fit ? (Laughter.) Judge Bacon: This collar is too ■"high in the neck. The waistcoat is too big. There seems nothing the matter with the trousers.

The Defendant; Dey are vot you call costermonger's drousers. (Laughter) Dey are like von man at der musichalls.

Judge Bacon; Let me see your boy. The defendant’s son stepped on the bench and was examined.

Judge Bacon: This suit never fitted. It will not button up. The plaintiff: Dot boy von cheat. He grow, ach Himmel I how he grow ! (Laughter.) It vit yen I made him. Judge Bacon : No boy could grow as much as that in three months. You cannot alter this suit so that it will fit; but T will adjourn the case to enable' you to make the father’s fit if you can.