SATURDAY GOSSIP.

South Canterbury Times, Issue 2874, 10 June 1882, Page 3

SATURDAY GOSSIP.

The Harbor Board arc apt to go to extremes. A little while ago, the expense of a steam tug frightened them; and thoy went in for saving, scraping, and reduction. Now they have east off the old man of parsimony and put on the new man of A steam tug of the newest and heat kind is to bo procured ; and. besides, a steam launch ! The new Harbormaster is to have a

boat’s crew, and things are to be generally in style." Boards are wonder. fully composed, and efisppsed. ; : -

Talking of Boards, one cannot'help admiring the dexterous leap onTb the shoulders of the Education Board which, the M.H.R., for Waimate has mride. Scarcely was Geraldine, out of the saddle, than Waimate, was firmly seated, with a new pair of spurs. Ah I gentlemen, you thought lie was in Wellington,. and you heaved a sigh of relief hist Wednesday, did’nt you, when lo ! as tlio clock struck One, the tall spoctral figure stalked in after the stylo of Alonzo’s ghost, and sat at the Board, “And, Ohl” Steward said, “since nor’rard I go, To talk in the Parliament House, You’ll say, thank God. let him go; Some other will court you, and you Will bestow . : ' ■ On other School Districts your cash.” It was not to be. The Board would have “ let the matter slide.’’ But at the hour, came the man, and got the money passed safely, and vanished.

Those who have been used to regard Garibaldi as a noble champion of popular freedom, will observe from th® following extract, that everyone does not share their views. The “ Tablet,” says of him—“ The death is announced of Garibaldi, at the age of 75, arid, as we perceive from the reports of what took place at Palermo, the unfortunate old man continued vomiting out blasphemy against'God ,and His saints almost to the end. We say almost to the end, because we have not as yet heard the details of this death, and it may be that, as to many another, to Garibaldi also, the presence of death brought terror and repentance with it. —We may hope, then, that the life of foulness and infamy terminated with a cry for mercy,”

There is a certain charm about the last utterances, of Hiroki. He litt’e suspected how his description of his dream figured forth our universal experience, “I dreamt L saw mutton fish, but on taking thorn I found they were.but empty shells.” This was the; vision that passed before the soul of the Native in tlie condemned cell. My dear reader, have you and I not often dreamt of mutton fish, good fat ones too, and after reaching them by painful and laborious effort, found only empty shells ? This succession of anticipation and disappointment is a law of oar being. Augustus, you did’nt see the freckles on Selina’s face in those . champagne days when you were blinded by your love. Now, everyone stands out before you in bold relief. And, Selina, you nevqr anticipated the neglect and'coldness you have to submit to now. “ We’ll have a little cottage, so" neat, so comfortable, and after the day’s work is over, I shall sow, and you .ghall play the concertina." So dreamt - Selina. And so was for a while. • Very soon the sewing went on, but the concertina scarcely ever gave forth a note. You know what I mean. I need go no further into it. It was mutton fish in the honeymoon, and empty shells afterwards.

I sow a case of “mutton fish, and shells ” at the luncheon given recently on the occasion of a certain .transfer of business in this town. A hungrylooking individual from somewhere in the backvyoods, very roughly clad, and not over clean in the face, edged his way through the crowd until he reached a friend. The friend was putting, away a largo cargo of roast beef. The new-comer gripped his friend by the arm, and said, with a look of resolu tion in his eye, “ Bill, I’m come here to git sura sharapain! I never taisted shnmpain sin I was born, and I’ll drink it to-day if I die.” “All right, mate, av o bit o’beef first.” “Oh, blow yer bloominbeef, I want sbampain.” At any rate he got his wish, and carried two or three glasses of nectar away within him. His last words as he left the building with his friend were highly suggestive of ’empty shells,— “ Well, by the hookey, if that 'ore’s shampain, as I’ve ’eered so much of — blow me tight, but its poor stuff the swells drinks. Oh! crikey, turn me inside out, somebody.”^ You will skip this episode of humble life, dear reader, should you belong to the la de-dab order, or affect kid gloves!

Happy thought T It might be worth while to engage the redoubtable Jem Mace as trainer-general to the police force, and establish a permanent force of gladiators to deal with larrikins, who are beginning to show themselves in our cities. Jem and his gladiators might be stationed in Christchurch for a month’or two, just to ‘take it out | of some of the hopeful youths in that city. Puck.