HERE AND THERE.

South Canterbury Times, Issue 4649, 17 March 1888, Page 2

HERE AND THERE.

“March winds and April showers, bring forth May flowers ” was the old rhythmic saying at homoj but those causes do not produce the same effect here. They are the prelude of cold, wet, winter.

Om thing the showers of the last 36 hours produced was the postponement of our trip to the Parco'a, The Geraldine County Council arranged to drive out in a body, accompanied by their Engineers,for the purpose of inspecting the Pareora bridge. At the bridge they were to have been joined by those worrying Waimate councillors and their overseer or .engineer, and an inspection of the bridge was to have been made. However le conseilpro • pose, wot? le dialle dispose, and it came on to rain yesterday, and we were done out of a holiday trip.

gaAn esteemed''eorrcspopdont who is about town a good deal tells us of on .unrehearsed play that took place one day thia week, (towards shutting-up time. A number of lady loungers were looking in with languid enjoyment upon the display in the drapery windows, and young things in their teens were flattening their noses against the panes —when all of a sudden ceasji ! came a lot of glass from the verandah. Uid’nt the fair ones fly? Those wlw preserved their equilibrium amid the excitement observed that the damage had been done by a black hound which was haring a course by itself

up there after somebody’s cat. Terrified by the noise it had involuntarily causcd.it darted in at the open window of a tailor’s cutting room that looks on. the top of the verandah, attracted there, no doubt, by the, smell of “goose.” The cat reached homo in safety and recovered from the shook, and the dog concluded, asjhe closed his eyes that night, never more to%ourso on glass, and fo eschew cats if he could’nt chaw them up right away.

Visitors to the Police Station, unices too much absorbed (or rather unless having absorbed too much) will have observed an “ air ” about the place. This comes from an extraordinary white-washing to which the lock-up and the outhouses have been subjected. Such white-washing wo never saw before; such white-washing was never put on by a hireling painter. Craigio howls with envy and Murdoch glowers wrathfully as they look upon the magnificent work of “ bobby.” And “ oft, when evening shadows fall,” Healey, Chiffey,Ed ward?, Cooper, Knowles, and North steal down to gaze and groan. It is the constable with the face of Elizabethan build and burly form that did it single-handed. No slapdash work. Clad in a corn-sack, and looking like across between Robinson Crusoe and Nod Kelly, and wearing a decayed Tam O’Shanter, the bold brushman covered his surfaces with white-washing made according to a recipe known only to himself, and when it dried it shone with exceeding lustre, and it now resembles marble. It would be worth the while of the trade to buy the secret out.

The worst of it is, the Prior Butlers and tho Amy Sherwins make us discontented and fastidious ; sermons and songs from tho rank and file pall on ue sadly. Let us hope to see both artists amongst us again, for they are assuredly great and what they do is delightful.

“ Joseph’s Bonos,” as the subject of a sermon, was a great puzzle to everybody and we have received a number of suggestions for sermon-titling. Hero are a few “Pharoah’s hide,” “ Jacob’s neck,” “ Daniel’s den,” “ Peter's feet,” &c., &c.

Arthur Mursell, a popular gospel lecturer in Manchester a good many years ago when wo were in the top and toffee age of life, clidan immense lot of good by queer titles to hia discourses. He used to have tho Freetrade Hall crowded Sunday after Sunday while ho lectured on snob subjects as “ Whip Behind,” the “ Red White and Blue,” etc., etc.

Tho Bank has squared us about that blazing barrel—and therefore wo will not pursue the subject any further than to remark that the facts night form the subject of a yellowback. “ The mystery of the Burning Cask,” “ The Blazing Barrel, or the Baffled Burglar.” “ The Fiery Yard j or the Devil and the Manager.”

“Timmerhoo too twelf ov March. Dear Bill, ope you’re a gittin on since yer bin out o’jug. Aint seen yer since ' afore yer went in, an’ the bother blokes is a barskin arter yer too. Ows trade Bill ? If yer finds it too slack tip hus tho wink an’ hi’ll fix yer proper. For atwixt hus Billy, there’s a “ good tirnocomin”ere. Hole Kirby’s going to be took off the beat, so a cove ’ont be ’unted an’ Tinted like a blarsted bunny ; ’ee'll ’ave time to eat his wittlos an' wash ’is togs an’ 'ave a look round. There is some nice’ouses’ere Bill —winders easy, twig? An’ the safes is’nt much nuther, aint a crib about ’ere Bill, s’elp me as you and me could’nt crack. An’ then the hair is good and the gals is charmin’. Yer noes I alius ’ad a hamiable weakness for ’ousemaids. Good by dear Bill, I remain yore to kommand, Crackin’ Tom o’ Timaru,"

What does good old Mrs Capanstrings say to this ? What does the nervous Mr Pecktoast, and pious Mr Snuffle, and dear Miss Loneone say ’to it ? What do Convivial Jones, and Bacchanal Brown, and Robinson Royster think ? Suppose they met “ Crackin Tom ” some night and he was in tho mood for skull cracking as well as crib cracking!

Time, noon. Scene : a well-known hotel bar; Hebe is seen dispensing fluids from shining crystal to thirsty souls who haunt the enchanted ground. Enter a five-foot man with a twenty-five inch belltopper on, and a cast-off coat from Bill Evans’ or some other giant’s wardrobe, and “yaller ncckankerchor ” on, and a prevailing air of seedinees and fume of stale tobacco, (not ruby) also with a husky voice induced by cold, alleviated too often with rum hot’Ere miss, give a cove a I—och —dear! dear! ” And he sighed and blew and bleated, and bright-eyed Hebe, catching on to the most probable idea, drew a “ long beer," with the celerity of a lightning flash, and placed it before him. Not quicker now was she than he, for—hi! presto, it was almost gone. Then refreshed the Seedy One set it down and gazing into the fathomless depths of Hebe’s eyes, he said, huskily but cheerfully and paternally, “ I did’nt arsk yer fur a long beer—l harsked yer fur a lucifor. Honly yer see I ’aves a horful cold, an’ things is’nt alius plain. ’Owever, I’ve drunk the beer to show as there aint no hanimosity, but I w'ould’nt himposo|on yer good nature by labia yer matches too—Ha ! Ta! beauty.” And with a potent mixture of gallantry and cheek, that made him irresistible, the fellow sailed quietly out.