NAPOLEON RE-INCARNATED!

NZ Truth, Issue 112, 10 August 1907, Page 5

NAPOLEON RE-INCARNATED!

CROPS UP IN CHRISTCHURCH

And Makes Hell of a Happy Home.

Tell-tale Turner's Damnable Machinations.

fcfter toeing happily married tor" thirty-two years, no less, it is a lump off that a couple should be separated owing to the mumbling machdnations of a coot who talks about the other world with fiery eloquence, and talks to spirits with all the enthusiasm of an old woman who converses witih. gin and water, or the beetle-brov&«d, bilge-nosed booby wiho likes whisky better than work. A sad case of thin sort Iras just happened at Christchurch, a spiritualist, or alleged spiritualist, named Turner, having broken up a remarkably happy home through exercising the cursed influence of a lazy guy, who imposes on the credulity of poor individuals who ought to cultivate brain power and strength of mind to tell charla^ tans to go to the devil. Mr and Mrs Charles Peaixce, late of Holly Road, St. Albans, CJuristchuroh, were an ideal couple ; they were all m all to each other, and had been for thir-ty-two years. A more polite husband and a more affable wife never lived. The ordinary domestic squabbles never found a place m their menage. But Pearoe followed religion with great gusto. He was a fair peach on religion, and sampled the Baptists, and the Church of Chr-dst, a>nd the ScotobJbiyterians, and other sundries. The gentleman didn't gain any comfort from any of them, so the yarn goes,, and he tired of putting Ms toobs m the plate until he struck occult philosophy, or something m that line. He met this chap Turner, and fteli m with wonderful oom-plete-ness. Mrs Pearce had previously humored hubby m all his religious meaiiderinrs, but occult philosophy was m her mind a step, too far. The lady jibbed, and Pearce didn't like it at all. He used to ask Turner and his spiritualistic confreres to his house to fool round with the table, and she objected hotly and forcibly. Her house, she determined, wasn't going to be the head-quarters of a gang of undesirab]© people. That was how she styled them. This crowd, led by talkative Turner, were led to believe, that this was their second time on earth i; re-incarnated spirits, and Turner assesvera/ted that he was RE-ALLY NAPOLEON BORN ANEW. Shado of the little Corporal., Wonder what the coot's mother would

(Westliand's Youthful mem%ex>)j . ( A" chip of 'the old block is Tom^ i Tho' as yet mo political bomb j Has he thrown off his chest/ ! •But he's got for the West* Bridges galore, And roads by the score, So Coasters will stick to their Tontj say to that argument ? Pearce and the others were r,e-born artists, or musicians, or something, and one of the crowd has actually been speeding money on singing lessons at Turner's behest. He used to be a hell of a singer m years gone by, according to all accourats, but, judging from the noise that issues from his throat, he must have had Ms voice burled wi<th his ' body. However, he can't sing worth a Salvation Army yell. On tßia other hand, Mrs Pearce, who took part m these silly proceedings until she got disgusted, was declared to be no better than she ought to be m her previous mythical existence. That put the pot on, and it is stjfll boiling. Family discord at once set m, and Pearce, who is a carpenter, working at Taut and Cos., suddenly discovered that he hated, his wife, and they separated. Friends intervened, to no avail, and then Pearce inserted this advertisement m the Christchurch papers :— "I emphatically contradict certain statements made by my wife, Mary Fearce, to the fact that our mutual separation is the result of her objecting to meetings held by myself and friends m the study of occult philosophy. 'We separated by mutual consent because of incompatibility of temper and dispoCSHARI.ES PEARCE, Late of Holly Road, St. Alfcams." Pearce is allowing his wife a whole ten bob a week, and is still infatuated with snirit rapping and other kindred nuisa'nees. Turner has him under control all right. All Fearce's friends, with but a few exceptions, a^vowed that the freak shows of spiritualism were no class ; that the gutter saints of spirit-rapping didn't appeal to bhem ; that who resided m a back slum m Thibet, ' was all flam ); that he couldn't pay for his washing, and that he never paid' for has dirty room when he was alive. But that i didn't prevent a youiig lady who was a silly young fool; from being classed by Turner as of high class degree. It appears tfh&t the lady has cash and tha/t she spent some of it on bounder Turner. Ono evening when "Esoteric" was on the job, tine table rapped out that tlve lady m question should FINANCE A BOOK ON PHILOSOPHY— the philosophy that Turner kept m his top waistcoat pocket. "Esoteric" j remarked (from some track lane m mysterious Tblkc^ as lie atookftd his

unwashed beard) that the hook" would sell well; there would he an unequalled demand for it, and that everything m the garden would be all right next spring. .Sbe tumbled. "Who will write it ?" she asked. "I am going to write it," said Turner .; "'but the cost is somewhat annoying ; it will be a matter of fifty pounds."' "The money shall he found," said the indiscreet maiden, and it was found forthwith, and— went up the spout. The book, or alleged book, or alleged rehash of nothing m particular, was called ,"The N;sw Morality" ; and was charged up at two bah a time. It isn't worth anything. It is an awful sort of an eyesore, and won't carry shucks. There is no new morality about it bar selfishness, and that is as old as the hills. Turner, who wrote the awful 1 product, maintains the policy of every man for himself and the dev&i take the last man m. the hundred ya^ds sprint. The language is high fajutin f , but, like most ignoramuses T' of his class, he puts the .wrong w^StSS m the wrong places and the bad grammar where it didn't orter -be,. while good grammar may only be found on the cover. It was a grSat scheme to spread a propaganda, at somebody else's expense which nobody would read, and which nobody, is likely to read. But the lady grew-, cold on Turner ;. she found out what he really was ; that he knew no more about spiritualism than a mountain goat knows about a lizard's affection for it's enemy, and she cried the spiritual deal right off. There never was a spirit m it, anyhow. If there was it was only one, and he raced to a goal because there were no othor spirits racing. She 1 paid fifty o,uid for the publication of the volume, (whdoh would have brought more had it been a book of racing statistics), and then left for England (the cosmopolitan place where nobody m particular comes from), where she remembered m agony what she . HAD DONE FOR A ROTTER' —a damned rotter. "What this writer wants to know is how much .did this young lady part up to this * cleanshaved son- of a souser •? Has shs given him. anything to go on with all the time— a quid a week, . for instance ? He is a married man with one child, and lives m Armagh-street, Linwood, or somewhere m tfoat locality. However, the lady is going to be asked on -her return to Christchurch if she is going to* proceed a•gainst somebody or other for doing what should nojb have been done. Thera are letters m existence and other foolish documetots, and somebody might suffer. The letters that persons write to other persons, whom they thank they have under -their control is something astounding ; somebody gains sense, and then revalatians are made that puts them away r so to speak. Well, the written communications aie m existence m Chiistchurch, and it only remains for the young girl on arrival to say somethong, and we shall see what we shall observe. This chap Turner, who suns himself m Victoria Simiare every day, when tine weather is fine, only dreams of occult philosophy. There were people aboard Midshipman Easy's boat wfoo tenew about philosophy, and others wfao didn't, and- who didn't care a two-penny damn, about philsapfcy or its concomitants, or its adherents, or any darned thing that came alongside m the way< of a sheep amchor. But Turner took on easy-^ Midshipman Easy— graft a short tiipe ago when he started a diminutive bookstall m Victoria-street, on the road to Papanui, but he- couldn't do any good there,' so he had to go out. However, his English remittance and spiritualism, and re-inearara-tion, and Other things, seem to keep him without soiling his- hands— worse. luck. He may have to blister them ere long, worse luck for himself. But that is neither here nor there, so far as this scribe is concerned. ; However, when the raptiiare occurred between husband and wife*, and girls aaid boys, A RELATIVE INTERFERED, and he made a fe'J? remarks, calling Turner fry names he didn't like. It was tj/alte m order., df course, but it wasn't m order for Turner to interfere m domestic matters. But it is allepsd that he did so, and there isn't much, doubt about it. Pearce is still tapping on a piece of timber (beins: a carpenter) for a living, and his nibs Turner- (he should -have been a wood turner) is doing the same. But the wife is living, or trying to live, on half a so y a week, and is • wondering what she has done to be treated thus after thirty-two years pf married felicity. However, it doesn't seem to matter now. The relative who had interfered was written more than half a dozen letters, so fjfcr as the present writer could see., and they all contained threats that "Esoteric," the chap who is a spirit and who . lives m cheap lodgings m Thibet, would settle his damned soul somehow or other if he "thwarted" his designs over this family. (And its parasites, presumably.) There were eight veiled threats bald out, but Nf.lie pains and penalties for goosine; a curious, cunning callous bloke like Te.ll tale Turner weren't specified m plain Euo;,lish ; nothing was specified, and everything was left to the imagination but certain it was that "Esoteric;/' of Thibet, ot Hell, or Halifax, oc wherever he is grafting; at nothing: a; day for poor devils of humans, had a mie-hty down upon persons who "thwarted"' his views, or destinies,, or anything that happened to be on the, wing. But no matter, the whole thing is A DELUSION AND A FARCE, and the only object that stands out prominently is a man named Turnec and a separated couple with a grownup family. They say that practice makes perfect, and that perfect! on. leads the mind to the idealistic ; but where scrofulous cormorants of corybantic religion and no religion at all aiong. and parasites of a puerile spirit-rapping-puppet- show showitheir paces— well,, the educated paoiple needn't judge ; the most lir'ainj less m the eomm.«aity; don't judge at All,