HERE AND THERE.

South Canterbury Times, Issue 4893, 29 December 1888, Page 2

HERE AND THERE.

Among tho variety of volunteer uniforms to be seen on the racecourse the other day, which was the moat. soldier-like ? Remembering that a'soldier is not a. drawing-room ornament, and that his dress should bo serviceable rather than showy, the uniform of the Christchurch Mounted Bides commends itself, and would doso still more if they ripped off the bulk of the white facings off their tunics. Their Bedford-cord breeches and brown-leather leggings gave them a business like, butcher boy air, very appropriate to their amateur profession of killing. But for their bandolier cartridge cases|oYer their shoulders,their

jaunty caps (very unsuitable for summer or winter) they looked like a smarter armed constabulary, and a neater and more useful and appropriate costume than that .of our troopers, save perhaps the black boots, it would be hard to devise. There is too much frill and filagree in all these volunteer uniforms. Tho most respectable looking body of soldiers ever seen in Timaru,—moaning by respectable, inspiring respect as soldiers, men whose business is a hard one wbilo they are at it—was the little band which Captain Hamersley brought back from Parihaka. Dressed in trough dull blue serge tunics and trousers, and Scotch caps, without a trace of ornament, sunburnt, and looking as “ hard as nails,” that body of volunteers appeared much more capable of defending our healths and homes, than the sunset-hued corps that assemble at reviews.

The stewards of the horse race at the volunteer sports this week have been complained of for allowing a professional horseman to ride in the sailor-on-horseback race. This complaint is a nonsensical one, as the rider is a Naval too. But one thing was certainly out of order. He wore spurs!

The following story is not exactly new now, but a few years hence it will be made to do duty as a new, —without this introduction Jim R , the most veracious man in Wellington, and the most voracious of information, has been down to Canterbury and tells of a conversation he had with a Timaru man on tho subject of Timaru flour. Jim commenced with : “ They 'make some flour here do they not ?” “No, sir, it makes itself. South Canterbury wheat is so full of flour that it would be useless to try to keep it shut up in tho kernels. It is such vigorous flour that it would get out on its own hook if it were not taken out." “ I understand,” said Jim, e ‘ Timaru flour is sold in England cheaper than it is retailed at home. How is that?” “ Clear enough, sir; clear enough. You see the steamers charge for freighting by weight. Our flour is so light that the more they put in a vessel the lighter the load grows. A cargo of Timaru flour goes through for nothing, and is entitled to a drawback at tho other end of the route. Besides, its buoyancy makes it desirable for ships to carry. A ship-load of Timaru flour could not sink." “ But if it should get wet?” “ Tho wetter the better. A swamped shipload of our flour would sop up the Pacific in two hours.” “ I have heard it is very lifesustaining.” “Well, I should say so!. Life sustaining! Well 111 tell you I There is an effort being made by the medical fraternity and the undertakers to get an injunction against its manufacture. It is fairly driving them out of business. And if the government would require vessels to carry a loaf of Timaru bread for each passenger we would hear of no more sea disasters because of inadequate lifepreservers,” “Are you a dealer in flour?” “Oh!noj lam a clergyman. If I were a dealer in flour I could probably tell you wonderful things about it.”

It is stated (here) that the following lines were enclosed in the letter from the Mahdi to Osman Digna, a copy of which was sent to General Grenfell; MAHDI-DA! Yes, I am the boss of the sandy Soudan, And I hardly think a more competent man Can be found between Tennessee and Japan To bounce the bold Britisher invader. I’m a twelve-fingered, bow-legged eon-of-a gun. I’m a prophet from way-back—a child of the sun. I’m a dandy, a loh-lah, a darlin’, a hun’, I’m a red-handed ripper and raider. My followers number two million or more, And every man of ’em equal to four. They’re not much for style, but they’re dandies for gore— They’re bad men from Keshir-el-Wadir. El Stanley I’ve captured, I’m happy to state; El Emin shall meet his well-merited fate; I’ll butcher El Grenfell if he’ll only wait, And Queen Yic. wi’l think luck has betrayed her. So strike, ehirtlcsa sons of the shimmering sand, One more blow for your prophet (that’s me, understand), Disembowel the insolent infidel band! Vivisect the infernal invader!