ECHOES OF THE WEEK.

New Zealand Times, Volume LXVI, Issue 3311, 18 December 1897, Page 1 (Supplement)

ECHOES OF THE WEEK.

Sa'.lre’e my weapon, but I’m too discreet To run amuck and tilt at a)) 1 meet. Pope. BY " SCRUTATOR ” IN '■ N.Z. MAIL.” A cold sou’-easter—"cold,” did I say? it should have been “delightfully fresh” —followed by a blazing sun and a comparitive calm, and then a turn of the hot north and clouds of dust. Verily, we have our weather '• in samples,” and the man who can successfully “dress for the weather” must he exceedingly smart, not ti say “ cute, sir, cute, and, ahem, d h sly,” as the late lamented Joey Bagstock, Major, was wont to remark in " Dombey and Son." But still we must be thankful, for we never have the fiendishly sweltering heat of Melbourne, or the melting, muggy torridity of Sydney, to say nothing of hailstorms with " blocks of ice ” masquerading as " hailstones,” and “ smashing through iron roofs ” as was reported from some God-forsaken place in New South Wales the other day. We have an occasional earthquake, which dislodges an occasional chimney pot, and shakos up our livers, hue on the whole I prefer Captain Edwin’s small mercies, and oven the “shakes,” to those dealt out by the Clerk' of the Weather iu New South Wales.

The Masterton - Woodville extension is an accomplished fact, and I congratulate both Wellington and Hawke’s Bay upon being at last linked together by the railway. It will moan that a large amount of trade which has hitherto gone to Napier will now come to the Empire City. What Napier ought to do is to press for a farther breaking-up of the large estates which block genuine, close settlement in the fine province at her back. - With the fine lands of the province properly opened up, Napier would increase her business tenfold, but, alas, Napier, and indeed Hawke’s Bay generally is at the present time hopelessly Conservative.

“ What might have been a very serious accident ” —as the newspaper reporters love to put it—occurred on Saturday last. As matters fell out, no one was hurt, though a good many of the excursionists were sorely frightened, but although we may laugh at the fears of the passengers, it would have been a terribly serious thing had the derailment of the van occurred on any high embankment. Whoever was responsible for the accident deserves a severe wigging, but I quite expect that it will be found —officially— to have been a case of “ Nobody to blame.”

At the banquet at Woodville the Premier said pre-eminently the right thing about the Wellington and Manawatu Company, and I hope he will be as good as his word when he says the Government — which often moans RJ.S.—will not allow any “cutting” against the private company to be indulged in. But when he advocates or supports the idea of the private line remaining a private line, he will not, I think, find himself in accordance with popular opinion. The time has now arrived when the Wellington and Manawatu railway should be taken over, at a fair price Men entendu, for anything like forcing the company into a sale at a figure fixed by the Government alone would savour of confiscation and injustice. But the two lines should be run together, and to do this they should be under one and the same owner, and that owner, needless to say, must logically and properly be the State. But pay the Company a fair price, Mr Seddon, tor it has done splendid service in opening up the back country to settlement, and has very largely contributed to the enormous growth of Wellington during the past few years.

“Tommy Atkina” is, to use a vulgar expression, “in it" just now. John Bull, taking the cue from a sensational article in the Times, has come to the contusion there is not enough of Thomas, and that what there is, is not sufficiently well-paid. And as what the Thunderer has said has, no doubt, been echoed by the Country, with whom T.A. E-q., is immensely popular, the Tory Government has at last awakened to a sense of its duty and decided, if the Secretary of State for War is to be believed, to “ adept measures with a view to improving the condition of the soldiers.” That is the official way of putting it, but Privates Mulvaney, Learoyd and Ortheris would probably size up the promised “ improving ” as signifying “ A bob a day without the dockings, and the longer you’re with the colours' the more you got.” And why not? At present Thomas has by no means “ a soft thing,” what with the deductions for this and that and the other, and when ho quits the ranks of “Queen Viotorier’s Sons,” who go out to “ various barbarious wars,” as Kipling hath it, he finds that “ other occupation hath he none.” The very best bit of news which the Secretary for War, the Marquis of Lansdowne, has given to Thomas Atkins is “that civil employment would be found for soldiers upon their retirement from the army.” At present Tommy finds that once discharged times may be worse fop him rather than better. As Kipling puts it;— I done my six years’ service. 'Er Majesty says " Good Day,” You’ll please to come when you're rung for, and'ere’e your lole bach pay ; An* fourpence a day for baccy—and blooming gen’rous, too; An ! now you can moke your fortune—the same as your orPcefe dp. Back to the Army again, Sergeant, &o. Bqt the real argument of Kipling’s “ Back to the Arjqy 4gsin ’—you will fjnd it in his "Seven Seas" —is dead against short service. Here’s the sting of the whole poem, in the last verse: — Go’s there ? A man that’s too good to be lost yon, A roan that is ’andled an’ made— A man that will pay what e cost you • In iearnin’ the others their trade—parade ! You’re droppin* the pick of the Army, Because you don’t’eip’em remain, But drives ’em to cheat to get out o’ the street An’ back to the Army again. The expression “ you drives ’em to cheat to get out o ! the street ” is a reference to the false swearing cf Thomas A. who “retired” after his six years! service, finds civilian life too dull and too nearly allied to starvation, and qrho, in order to get back again to “barrioks ” goes and .“lists." as a “ reoruity,” the recruiting, sergeant winking at the fraud, being only too glad to qverride the regulations and get back some good ,raen. The short service—old style—is, if I read the recent cables aright, doomed.

John Bull and Johnny Crapaud have apparently come to an amicable agreement over the African disputes. . AU the better, for there is room enough and to spare in the "Dark Continent*'fqr both French and British enterprise,.aud it would haya been a pity had the two nations come to loggerheads over the boundaries of some wretched nigger states. Luckily for England MHauotaux, the French Minister for Foreign Affairs, is a very leyel : hgaded gentleman,; who pays scant hped to the yabi4 rayingsl of the hysterical boulevard journals, which in their Anglophobia would insist upon a complete French domination of the Niger, country, where English traders have for years been engaged in commerce with the natives. John Bull allowed M.-Hanotaux a very free hand with regard to Madagascar, at a time when British intervention —although only diplomatic—might have severely Embarrassed the French, and it is only fair that he should now oh his side give way a little. With the exception'of the Senegal country France has never had one-tenth the' claim to supremacy in Western Africa .that we Bashers have; We did all tho pioneer-wort on the coast, in Ashanteoand Dahomey, and right up the Niger, and it would* have been It&rd indeed : the French l>eet) ailoyfad'to intaryeno antj in(ersere with what were rea'abnatily to bo considered the vested interests of John 8011, -■. ‘Members of the Wellington Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals will no doubt be interested to learn , how the Spaniard takes to such institutions. From a reoentlypublished book (“In Northern Spain/’ by Hans GadowJ I have copied out the following story 1—“ The foreign residents in one of the towns on the coast thought proper to establish a branch of the Society for the Protection of Animals. 'They soon began meddling with the wide- ■ spread, custom of ear-marking the donkeys; , 'hut ag, their'..interference woe - resented,

and their remonstrances were laughed at, somebody hit upon the brilliant plan of offering to a man who had just bought an unmarked donkey the sum of two pesetas, on condition tliat the new owner sbonld not cut the animal’s ear. This was readily agreed to, but after a short time the peasant paid a visit to the Zoophilist Secretary, and said, ‘Sir, you have been good enough to pay me two pesetas on account of my donkey’s ear, and of course > I have stuck to our bargain. But I have bought another donkey, and how much are you willing to pay me now, as I intend cutting both its ears ?’ This episode brought the honourable society to a sudden end.” One of the many good articles in the recently published “ Savage Club Papers ” should greatly amuse New Zealand journalists, especially those who, for the public benefit —and for their own sins—labour in the Press Gallery in the House of Representatives. Mr B. E. Peacock, to whose article, “Press Reminiscences," I am now referring, gives some curious pictures of “ Reporting under Difficulties in the. House of Commons." He says:— “ The* Gallery of the House of Commons was not always so pleasant a resort as in the later years of my occupancy of a seat there. In my early days it was infested with ‘Norfolk Howards/ which appeared to have a special liking for one of my Scotch comrades. Night after night in the hot summer be would come out after a ‘ turn/ blistered and raging, and retire to the lower regions to divest himself of his clothes and his tormentors. In spite of individual complaints—for we had then no strongly organised Gallery Committee—the nuisance continued. One of the old Gallery hands, who had no respect for the persons of legislators, used to resent it in a brutal fashion. More than once I have seen him, on finding an offender running over the papers which he had just taken from his drawer, flick it down amongst the Members below, drily observing: ‘ I don’t i see why we should have a monopoly of them.’ Whether this had anything to do with tho cleansing and disinfection of the wood-panelling by which the pest was at last got rid of, I do not know, but at any rate the Gallery is now more habitable than it formerly was.”

There are (so wicked people say) a good many bores in the New Zealand House of Representatives, but I have never heard of its being infested with “Norfolk Howards," which is a well-known English colloquialism for a word of one syllable which begins with b and ends with g.

A book I intend to read when I can get hold of it—l hope the Free Libiary will secure a copy as soon as possible—is “ The Tenth Island,” an account of the little known but historically interesting island of Newfoundland, which has just been published in London. The author, a Mr Beoeles Wilson, judging from a review of his book which appears iu a London paper, appears to have let himself out at times iu a Mark Twaiuish style. Hence such paragraphs as the following t The Newfoundlander is very proud of his Newfoundland dog; and it is a pity that the admirable local museum does not possess one or two specimens—stuffed. For theie are no live ones—at least, very few. Politics run high in Newfoundland, and they run all the time in St; John’s. ‘lf Newfoundland ever comes into the Dominion/ the late Sir John Macdonald used to say, ‘wo shall never be able to find places enough for them. They eat too much fish. So. John’s—barring a few Scotch and Asiatic communities—is the most relig’ous town on earth. There is more religion here to the square inch than m any place I have ever visited. St. John’s, despite its apostolic name, has a nasty notoriety for soandal-mongering and slander. Tho author of “ The Tenth Island ” quotes the following advertisement which he saw in a local paper the day after his arrival; 'As a largo number of people in this city are given to gossip concerning my actions and personal affairs, I hereby give notice that on and after this date I intend lying on 1 toy right side instead of my left as heretofore. > (Signed) Eueben Wall.

Last week I quoted some of the many good things in the “ Tennyson Memoirs.” A correspondent (H. 8.), sends me the following :—“ Dear ‘ Scrutator/ the thanks of your readers are due for your ‘ Tennyson clipping and comments/ but you missed some references to Browning, who, as you know, was on very friendly terms with Tennyson. I repair the omission ”: — “ These brother poets were two of the most widely-read men of their time, absolutely without a touch of jealousy, , and revelling, as it were, in each other's power.; ...... v ■, “ On rare occasions my father would rally Browning playfully on- his harshnessof rhythm, the.obscurity and length' of his poems. The retort would r be, ‘ I cannot alter myself. The people must take'me as they find me.’ hly father would repeat his usual dictum about literary work—‘An artist should get his workmanship, as. good .as he cnn, and make his work as perfect as possible. A small vessel built on fine lines is likely, to float furthur down the stream of time ■ than a big raft.’ - They would laugh heartily together at Browning’s faculty for absurd apd abstruse rhymes.’ I reiuejuber a dinner vyhere Jebb, Miss Thackbray and . Browning were, present. Browning said he thought he could make'-a rhyme for every word ™ the English; language. We gave him ‘ rhinoceros/ Without a pause he said—- * Oh, if you shoqld asp a rhinocerqsi -And a tree be in sight, Climb quick, for his might la s.match for the gqds, he can toss Eros.’ “Abanother time Browning produced for my father’s amusement, impromptu verses on Carlyle and his wife, ‘Terse Yerse/being a contribution to Scottish Anthology/as he called it—- • Hail ye hills and heaths of Ecolefechan I . Hail ye banks an I braes of Uraigenputtock ! T. Carlyle was born iii Ecolefechan, Jane his wife was born in Craigenputtock. i She, S'pearl, where eye detect no speck can, He, ordained to close with and cross-buttock Cunt,, the giant—these, 0 Ecolefechan, . These your glories be, Q Craigenputtock 1’ ”

“ Aulus ” in the Australasian has a good story of the hard “hit back," which a juatlyexasperated Mick gave to an Qfangeman. , Thus“ It may seem personal and severe; but the sufferer brought it bn himself. . He is a ipember of Parliament, a bookseller, and, a light in the Orange lodges. To his place of business lately came a bprly Irishman, who asked for a copy of the last week’s Advocate. ‘'We don’t keep such a rag here/ said the indignant bookseller. ; ‘Deed’n you might do worse/ said the Irishman quietly as he turned, away. Tbe member’ seemed to realise thjit ho hqd been unduly severe, so in/a conciliatory tone said,' ‘How are the potato crops looking out your way ?’ 'Well/, wif} a nice df)rop o'rain, qpd the blgssin' d ! the fjord, said the grower, * we’ll be bayin’ em as big as the hump on your own back. Goqd morning, sor.’ ” , ;The sapie writer tefls q gqqd gtory—purely too goqd to bp tpue— apt-ofos to the repent big fire in Melbournei—“He rose ip a fright as the red light shone upon the window of his bedroom, and drawing the blind saw a volcano ,of flame and sparks rising,out of the city. - ‘So those November meteors have come at last/ he exclaimed j ‘a deuced pretty sight, too. T wouldn’t have tpjtsefi it for anything/ A few hoprs’later they rang him up to tell that hU business place was a heap of ashes.

. Sir Knight of the Bead has turned up in the Transvaal. From Pretoria comes a tale of "sticking up ”, a coach and robbery of gold that recalls tie , bushranging ,'days- of these colonies? The South African highwayman cannot be called a bushranger because there is no bush there, but tlie numerous topjos which rise from thp yeldt will foym as eec.uro a, retreat for the enterprising raidpr. :■ It semstbah the consignors of the bullion Insured their property, and consequently the Tranayaal Qqldmining Estates Company loses nothing oyer the affair.; Insuring gold - against robbery must be an idea of the - BoerSj There was no snob thing known in 'the early golden, days of Australia and New Zealand. The only insurance then 1 against vras ya memo’ sixshooter, the premium a quick hand-and eye and a stoat heart—rharder to procure than a printed policy, but nevertheless' a good guarantee. , ; ; ~:i