SHINGLES FROM AN OLD ROOF.

Otago Witness, Issue 665, 27 August 1864, Page 10

SHINGLES FROM AN OLD ROOF.

By a Free and Easy Shingler.

SHINGLE THE FIFTEENTH — THE SWORD OF BALAAM.

I remember how, many years ago, when I possessed a larger share of patience than — Heaven help me .'—l can now lay claim to — I went out on a fishing excursion, in the company of a sage old Nelson of the rod. And how, whilst I, with all the caution of a mere tyro, was seeking a favorable spot for a cast, my companion exclaimed — " Pitch your line, anywhere, my boy ; you can't go wrong in these waters." Sure enough he was right, for scarcely had my float touched the stream than a famous, jack-trout seized the bait ; and for two or three hours we bad as pretty sport as Isaak Walton himself could have wished for.

Since those halcyon days I have drifted far down the river of life, and even now I hear the surges of Eternity's dread ocean, beating with tolemn murmurs against the sands of Time. But ever, during my course, have I found the old angler's advice applicable to the fisher for men. It matters little what the bait may be, 'Tis but to cast the line anywhere in the turbid waters, and some gVdgeon is sure to appropriate it to himself, and to wriggle uneasily on the barbed hook. Indeed I have reason to believe that there are vast numbers of flatheads and flounders in the world who pertinaciously seek for an excuse to be victimised, and would go the length of devising an artificial bait for the delectation of their own gullets, rather than repose undisturbed in the seaweed of obscurity. Misapplying the motto of the Daily Times — "Inveniamviam, autfaciani" —they will find a way or make one of rendering themselves conspicuous. These intensely sensitive gentry remind me of Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Speak of a foolish knight, and they immediately 'exclaim — " That's me, I warrant you, for many do call me fool." Talk of an ape, and fifty offended mortals hug themselves in true monkey style, under the . comfortable impression that every one of themselves is specially Referred to. Utter but the phrase " Ht>ads or Tails," and ene-half •of little Peddlington is on the gui vive. astoniah any unsophisticated creature to see the quantity of good foolscap (which would have been much better •employed in adorning the brows of the writers) that has been wasted in egotistical complaints touching these Shingles. In my mind's eye, I see a vivid tableau of the quarrel scene between the serving-men of the rival factions of Capulet and Montague. "*' Do you bite your thumb at me, sir ?'' tsry the modern Capuletani of Otago. And I reply, with him of the house of Montague — " No, sir ; I do not bite my thumb at you, sir; but I bite my thumb, sir.". Once for all, let the Old Shingler avow, that he bites his thumb, not at persons, but at universal vices and follies. His strictures are general, not special ; and if he happens to hit a blot sometimes, rest assured, my uneasy friend, that the fault is in you, and not by any means to he ascribed to the particularity of his aim.

Tjiere is an old, old story of a soldier, who for a wager, ventured into a vault at the hour of midnight with the intention of bringing away a scull. When he picked one up, a sepulchral voice exclaimed — " That's mine 1" — Whereupon he dropped it, like a hot potato, averring that he had not the slightest desire to trouble the gentleman's repose. He caught up another, and again a voice declared — " That's mine!" — and a second time the soldier resigned his booty. He laid hold of a third scull, and still another claimant was heard. <s Upon my honor," quoth the soldier, " I am very sorry to disturb any of ye ; and it's very unfortunate that every scull seems to have an owner. But somebody's scull, I must have, or I'll lose my wager ; and faith ! I can't stand picking and choosing here all night." So he departed forthwith, carrying his mouldy treasure bravely away, lam somewhat in the same predicament, my querulous friend ; and it should not be imputed to me as a crime if I happen to lay hold of your scull in the dark. If such a memento mori is required To point a mo al, or adorn a tale,— why should I spoil my shingles pour line si petite bagatelle ? You see, I don't know you at all in the matter. You are one of a crowd, where every other 9cull would suit equally as well as youf own. The only comfort I know for you is, that you are not alone in your glory. There are an infinite number of other self- tormentors — as touchy as the mimosa pudica, and as countless as fleas in a Maori pah — ever prone to suspect that their irritable selves are the objects of ridicnle, if anyone laughs consumedly. Par example. The other day I penned an account — veritable enough in sad earnest — of the annoyances inflicted by a most pertinacious and excruciating Bore. Writing in good humour, I carefully disguised the exact apparatus wherewith I was bored, beneath the similitude of chaff.

When lo! up starts a Wallaby on the track, and proclaims himself to an admiring and appreciative public as the real, original Bore ! He it was, no doubt, who presented his learned friend with a panacea for national insolvency in the shape of a kangaroo sausage I Well, be it so. Far be it from me to dispute his claims to precedency. But why does he charge me with dishing up that savotiry sausage "in the ahape of New Zealand flax, to be turned by some mysterious process into horse feed ?" The Shingler never propounded such an amazing absurdity. And thereupon hinges a doubt. If he has made such a palpable mistake in my case, what may he not have done in his own ?

Now, my dear good Wallaby, pray subdue your ire, and smooth your furry coat. Do you verily believe that there is only one individual in creation who entertains a squeamish prejudice against articles of diet that have been carried about in other people's pockets ? Did it never occur to you, that, without having sat at the feet of your Gamaliel, I might possibly feel the same instinctive dislike to food so manipulated ? Strange as it may seem to you, oh Wallaby ! I am acquainted with at least two or three persons of similarly nice discrimination. Ponder over this, I beseech you; and whether you be my Bore, or any other man's Bore, pray don't bore yourself with the notion that you were the sole and special object of my harmless fling at your tribe. — Verb. sap. The truth is that in many cases, the wish is only father to the thought. There is a tolerable crowd of the same kidney as the smart youth, who— his poetical effusions having all been rejected — resolved to get married, as the only means of seeing his name appear in print. To their distempered vision the air-drawn dagger of the essayist is a veritable poiniard, and they rush forward to insist on receiving blows struck at random. Dickens relates how he was threatened with actions for libel by sundry indignant pedagogues, every one of whom persisted in declaring that he alone was the original Whackford Squeers. They all lived in Yorkshire, they all kept schools, and conscience supplied the rest of the likeness. Ah, my poor, fond self-deluders, don't flatter yourselves that there is anything original about you. You are all but units in the sum of human folly. Your little weaknesses are common to thousands ; your peccadilloes are the vulgar failings of countless miserable sinners.

Let me recite a case in point, -which I find set down in the books of Josephus the younger — otherwise Miller. YVhen some by-gone member of the great Barnum family was exhibiting a sword which, as he averred, was the identical weapon wherewith Balaam was about to kill his ass, -he was interrupted by a critical visitor, who reminded him that Balaam had no sword, but only wished for one. " True, Sir,' 1 replied the ready-witted cicerone, " but this 13 the very sword he wished for."

Even so, when Brown, Jones or Robinson cry out that they are smitten, let my well-bred and more sensible public remember Balaam's ass, and rest assured that the cut was not so much given by the Old Shingler as it was wished for by the wouldbe martyrs. 4 SHINGLE THE SIXTEENTH — EASY CHAIRS. Wanted, an easy chair ! Not a mere piece of upholstery, carefully cushioned, and cunningly padded by the art of joinery ; but a peace-giving chair, wherein not only shall the husk of man find repose, but the kernel also shall sit at ease. A chair, which shall be to the diseased mind what chloroform is to the diseased body — the happy source of temporary oblivion. A chair whence all unpleasant thoughts shall be abolished — all vain regrets exorcised.

Is there such a chair in the world ? If so, who and what is the favored possessor ? Nay, there is none such. Smile as you may, my good Sir, you know in your heart of hearts that you cannot reckon a truly easy chair amongst all your chattels. For wealth will not purchase it ; honour will not confer it; virtue itself will not secure it. I care not how elegantly your boudoir is furnished, my dear madam. Sofas and couches you may have in galore, and chairs of such ease as patent springs and horsehair can bestow. But can you place your lily-white hand on the corsage beneath which palpitates your fluttering little heart, and assure me that you have an easy chair in your house. I seek not to know the particular thorns in your cushion. 'Twere to inquire too curiously, my lady. But thorns there are, aye, and sharp ones too ; and there are times when you sit uneasily in your softest arm chair, and endure pangs undreamt of by your dearest friends and sisters, though \ each ,of them undergoes similar torment on her own account. You may be a feminine Sybarite complaining of a crnmpled roseleaf, or an Amazonian Montezuma bearing direst torture with stoical heroism. If the first, you are merely entitled to the pity which cometh of contempt. Albeit your miseries will be none

' the less because they are fictitious. Indeed, self- created miseries are less endurable than the real penalties of life. And it is a remarkable illustration of the adjustment of the balance of good and evil, that they whose lot is the fairest, and whose path is the smoothest, are the most prone to afflict themselves with imaginary woes. But there are women who, with more than Spartan fortitude, wrap the rugged cloak of endurance closely around their bleeding bosom?, and smile bravely on a thoughtless world, though the wolf of despair is ever gnawing fiercely at their vitals. And to dole out pitiful messes of commiseration to these would be to insult them. Rather let all good men and true render to them such homage as trivial mortality might fitly offer to the saints.

We all remember the terrible tale of naughty Mrs St. Gengulphus ; how she stuffed the cushion pf her easy chair with her murdered spouse's beard ; and how the beard revenged itself and its master on that faithless woman, when she sat down upon it. How — " She Bhriek'd with pain, but nil efforts were

vain; la vain they strained every sinew and

muscle, - The cushion stuck fast ! from that hour to her

las', She could never get rid of that comfortless •"Bii3tle."'

In these latter days our ladies have learned how to fashion themselves after the model of the Hottentot Venus, without having recourse to the ingenious article of attire, devised for that purpose by their respected mammas. There is, therefore, little fear of a repetition of the Gengulphian catastrophe. In fact, I know, and have known -.many docile husbands whose beards have been shaved by their wives with perfect impunity. But I venture to doubt whether the use of crinoline has increased the number of easy chairs. And if Mrs Grundy assures me to the contrary, I shall evermore regard hoops as sacred institutions, and their fair wearers as so many walking editions of "Venus Preserved," elegantly bound in scarlet, with handsome portraits, and designs— on wood.

It is one of the manifold delusions of our race to regard with envy such of their number as possess more of this world's goods than fall to the lot of the masses. And it is equally a delusion for the favored few to cant about the happiness of humble poverty. As if any station of life waa exempt from its attendant tribulations.

Unwy lies the head that wear's a crown, cried the expiring monarch. Think you that the uneasiness was entirely limited to the region of the head ? Not at all. It was quite a gratuitous wish of Alcibiades that the great ones pf old Athens might

Sit and pant ia their great chairs of state Depend upon it they had never done otherwise. The Imperial Kaiser who commands the lives and fortunes of millions is every whit as wretched as the meanest serf in his dominions. Mr Smiles tells us a hopeful story of a carpenter, who exerted unusual pains in planing a magisterial bench, on the ground that he expected to sit on it some day, and wished therefore to make it as easy as possible. And it is said that he did afterwards occupy that very bench, but we are not told that he found the coveted seat easy. On the contrary, there is every reason for believing that he made a discovery which is so very patent to all, that one wonders why it is constantly overlooked : — namely that the higher the social position, the more peinted are the thorns in the cushions. The only true philosopher is the man who is

" Contented wi' little, and cantj wi' mair." and so far as my experience goes, there are but an infinitesimal number of such in the world.

Gainsay it who3O may, the fact remains that no man or woman on the earth hath a perfectly easy chair. And the worst of it is that whilst one half of us are busily engaged in destroying our own comfort, the other half are intent on aiding our efforts. By our follies, our weaknesses, our vices and our crimes, we gather together a goodly pile of mischief, wherewith to construct a very chevaux-de-frise of discomfort. And when we reap the just reward of our sinful industry, we relapse into the absurdities of babyhood, andblubber most wearily over our self-in-flicted woes. Bah ! Out of nine-tenths of the good folks who bestow their tediousness upon my unwilling ears, there is not one to whose lachrymose drivellings I could not honestly reply — " Thou didst it ; — thou,— none other !" Search the tablets of your brains, my whining brethren, and in your own misdeeds you shall trace the causes of those effects which you now so lustily deplore. But what shall we say to those ingenious individuals who employ their tongues and talents in rendeiing their fellow-mortals uneasy ? The last English mail brings us an account of a Mr Cyrus Travis who endeavored to get rid of hi 9 insane wife by administering to her a couple of puff-cakes, containing seven pins, bent in the shape of fish-hooks. I hold him to be no guiltier

than the wretches who stuff their neighbors' easy-chairs with crooked pins of slander. The hint, the shrug, the inuendo, the depreciatory monosyllable, these are the more ordinary methods of offence. Woe be to these consumers of good namesv these remorseless devourers of reputation ! What is become of charity, which truly interpreted meaneth love? Mu3t we indeed "sigh for its rarity?" Oh! my masters, are there not sufficient plagues in this Egypt of ours, but we must tax our ingenuity to invent others? If for no better reason, the fact that the boomerang of malice will recoil upon its thrower, should '' bid ua pause" ere we launch forth the deadly missile.

Ah, you will all agree with me no doubt. You will exclaim " Very true !" and vent all the common-place s proper to be used on the occasion ; and you will go meekly away, and repeat your offences in the mostagreeable manner. Before the echoes of my voice have died away in the chamber* of the braiu, our old friends Brown, Jonesr, and Robinson will have cheerfully stuck, pins in no end of easy chairs. And the Smylars, and Alamodes, and Tippitywitchets of fashionable life will softly insinuate disparagement of each other ; and the whole batch will probably abuse the Old Shingler ; and he will be flattered by the unintentional testimony thereby accorded of the truthfulness of his picture.