The Contributor.

Southern Cross, Volume 9, Issue 5, 4 May 1901, Page 5

The Contributor.

DENIS DISCOURSES. Dear Mr Editor, —It was rainin’ hivins hard on Widnisday whin Katie an’ mesilf got to the Qaane’s Park to see O’Ronarke an’ Mitchel chop ache other for £IOO and the championship. Whin we got inside there was about four hundred av us, an’ ye cudn’t see the logs for heads an’ umbrellas. It ink about six min to get ache log in position, an’ whin the crowd craned its neck a little longer than usual, ses Mitchell to wan man — £ Did ye nivir see a log cut before ? ’ ‘ No, ses the man, ‘ not at that price.’ * * * _ At lasht we got the min on the top av their logs, ache axe in hand, wid a shpare wan at ache ind, an’ thin me frind J. A. Mitchell was axed to sind thim aff, an’ the crowd shtud back, an’ the handkerchief dhropped, an’ before it was half-way to the ground, the axes were bitin’ into the wud, Mitchell- gettin’ his blow in first, Och, but ’twas the excitin’ time that followed —it sped along nearly as fast as the goods thrane betwane Invercargill and Wyndham—an’ ses I to wan man who lukt like a bushman, ‘ iVho’ll be the winner ? ’ ‘Mitchell,’ ses he. ‘ Share, he lowered the record in the bush the other day, an’ him usin’ an ould axe at that.’ Just thin O’Rouarke bopped round on his log, tuk a long breath, an’ let out at the other side. * * * Thin I lukt at Mitchell, an’ he was battlin’ away at his first side, wid a man jumpin’ about in front av bis log like a Red Indian, an’ yellin’ ‘ Hit it here,’ an’ hit it there.’ 4 Denis,’ ses Katie, ‘if it wasn’t the half-holiday, I’d axe ye to run down to me frind Gilchrist’s for wan av the baby soothers that he’s got in his window —that poor craythur wants something to keep him quiet.’ Begorra, before she’d done shpakin’ he’d got it, for O’Rouarke finished wid plinty to shpare, an’ thin ’twas the great shout wint up, wid cries av ‘ Well done, Orepuki ! ’ ’Tis mesilf was thinkin’ O’Ronarke knew from the first he’d win, for before he shtarted he shtud on his log, an’, takin’ some notes from his trousers pocket, he axed if annywan wud bet against him, an’ chucked his money on the grass, an’ av coorse Mitchell’s min tuk him at his ward. * * * After we’d got pasht Larry Einnerty an’ shuk hands wid O’Rouarke, Katie lukt for the Red Indian, an’ ses she — : ‘ Listen to him now, Denis, he’s as silent as Mclnerney’s pigs whin they heard Maltby say pork the other day.’ ‘ Nivir mind, Katie,’ ses I, ‘ Mitchell’s tuk his batin’ like a man, but share I’m sorry he didn’t come nearer winnin’ afther axin’ the chaps not to shmoke an’ contaminate the air while the choppin’ was goin’ on.’ * * * Talkin’ av pork, Mr Editor, ’(was the great shtart I got the other day. A frind met me, an’ ses he— ‘ Did ye see that the town councillors want all pigs to be killed an’ shtamped at the abattoirs ?’ ‘ 1 did,’ ses I. ‘ Well,’ ses he, ‘ the ham an’ bacon paple are fair wild about it—they’re up in arrums, an’ there’ll be a row.’ Soon afther he lift me I saw a cart goin’ along the shtreet wid a long box marked in big letthers ‘ 20 rifles, 20 bayonets,’ an’ thin I had visions av the town bein’ divided into two camps —pro-Boars an’ anti-Boars—-an’ me frinds Knipe an’ Prentice ladin’ a band av rebellious pork min against me frinds Gowldie an Kenny Cameron an’ the town council, so ye can imagine me relafe whin I saw that they had adopted paceful means av settlin’ the matter an’ were deputationisin’ the council, an’ lamed that the rifles wint to the Garrison Hall. * * * What bates me altogether is the way the Council does its business. It begins by telling all and sundry that pigs must be killed at the abattoirs an’ shtamped an’ all the rest av it, or penalties will be enforced, an’ thin

whin the deputation! marches in an’ explains the • position, they change their tactics, an’ suspind the new law till they write to Willington. Why cudn’t they do that first av all instead av putting paple to throuble an’ expinse—that’s what I want to know F ‘ Well,’ ses Katie, ‘ it'wants thought an’ brains to run a municipal business.’ ‘ Thrue for you, Katie,’ ses I, ‘ an’ they’ve discovered that same at Home, an’ ’tis the powerful shlaps they’re havin’ at the War Office for bunglin’ things. Here’s a sample, Katie :—A successful operation was performed on a sergeant in South Africa who had been wounded in the head. The surgeon who performed the operation subsequently recognised his patient walking in Pall Mall, and congratulated him on his recovery. ‘ I’ve got that portion of your brain that I removed preserved in spirits, and if you like I’ll give it you as a i curiosity.’ ‘ Thank’ee kindly, sir, but I’ve no use for it now ; you see, I’m employed at the War Office. # * * Och, but ’tis the great shtorm that is brewin’ in Invercargill. A lot av the shopkeepers signed a petition to close at nine o’clock on Saturdays, an’ thin whin they were towld that an inshpector ’ud come down on thim if they bad a customer widin coo-ee av the door five minutes afther the hour, some av thim withdrew an’ shtarted a counter-petition, an’ on top av that the employees want to close at twilve instead av wan on Widnesdays ; and prisintly ye’ll see the loveliest ruction that ivir was. ‘ Well,’ ses Katie, ‘theie’s wan way out av the difficulty —they shud municipalise all the businesses in town, an’ let the Council run ivirything for the great-

est good av the greatest number. Shure, they’re goin’ to municipalise the publichouses in Glasgow, an’ I don’t see how we cudn’t do the same wid oar bits av businesses here.’ ‘ Well, Katie,’ ses I, ‘ you talk av the greatest good av the greatest number, an’ that’s where all the throuble comes in—ivirywan av us is fighfcin’ for his own hand, an’ nivir carin’ a ban’s turn what becomes av the rest av us. As me frind Eagin ses in Oliver Twist—‘Some conjurers say that number three is the magic number, and some say number seven. It’s neither, my fried, neither; ’tis number one.’ =* * * ‘ But, Katie,’ ses I, ‘ we’ve got three lawyers in the Council now, an’ perhaps they’ll devise a scheme for the good av the town that’ll plase all parties, an’ we mus’nt forget me ould frind Bastings, for he promised to help us in or out av the Council,

an’ has passed his word to give £IOO for a town hall. Och, ’tis the big heart the man has—’tis nearly as big as me frind Hopcroft’s chimney at Gummie’s Bush.’ ‘ That’s a quare comparison, Denis.’ ‘ Yes,’ but a thrue wan, Katie. Isn’t he always takin’ paple in—l mane, av course, in the good sinse av the ward—an’ whin ye rade what follows (taken out av the Western Star) ye’ll see that I wasn’t far out in comparin’ him to Hopcroft’s chimney : —Mr Hopcroft’s old dwelling is quite an historic landmark, and was occupied by Mr Hopcroft for upwards of 38 years. It was built by Mr J. P. Young, now of Orepuki, in 1869, 41 years ago, and was remarkable for its old-fashioned chimney. To show its capacity we may mention that shortly after its completion in June, 1860, 11 visitors slept in the chimney one night. Its dimensions are I4ft. by Bft., so the fact of so many sleeping in it is not so incredible as it may appear. Among the visitors on that occasion were Mr Henry Rogers, R.M.., Mr Fielder, sheep inspector, Mr Thomas Lee, and Mr Gillon. There were also two brothers named Bates, who were drowned through the capsizing of a boat on the Riverton bar. * * * Angus is wild at the way the paple up north are thratin’ Southland. He ses the latest insult to our climate is that the Tachers’ Conference is to begin its wurk in the South so as to avoid the severity av the winter, an’

he ‘jalouses ’ (whativir that manes) that they’ll be axin’ Mr Gilfedder, who is wan av their number, to telegraph to .Herbert, Haynes an’ Co. for a supply av their Arctic down quilts for the poor crayturs. * # * Katie ses ’tis amusin’ how different nationalities are thryin’ to claim the Duke ay Cornwall for wan av thimsilves. The latest example is that av the Southland Times, which sed on Thursday that there was a chance av the Baron an Baroness av Renfrew cornin’ down here. Katie ses she wondered who on earth they mint, an’ so did others, for they bad to explain nixt day that that was the Scotch title av the King’s son an’ his' wife. Katie ses he’s also called the Baron av Killarney, but whativir his rale name may be she hopes he’ll prove as good a man as his father. * *

‘ Well, Katie,’ ses I, ’if we cud only get a visit from the Duke’s father, we cud do widout him an’ Sthe Duchess, an’ be like the ganger on some big railway works. There was an Irishman there, an’ wan pay day he ses— ‘ Do yer want any more hands, sor, for I’ve a brother at home that wants a job ?’ The ganger asked him what sort of a workman his brother was. ‘Faith, sor,’Pat replied, ‘ he’s as good a man as meself.’ ‘ All right,’ said the ganger, ‘ tell him to come and start on Monday.’ ‘ Whoile I’m axin’ you for nay brother, there’s me poor old father at home waitin’ a job at the same time, yer honour.' ‘Well, what sort of a man is your father, Pat P’ I Be jabers, sor, he’s as good a man as the two of us.’ ‘ Oh, well,’ said the ganger, ‘ tell your father to come, and you and your brother can stay away.’ * *

Did I ivir tell ye, Mr Editor, Katie is a great believer in the science av physiognomy P I found it out wan day whin I was complainin’ av the way me brow was gettin’ wrinkled. ‘ Shnre, Denis,’ ses she, by way av consolin’ me, ‘ Mr Hugo towld us whin he was here that wrinkles denoted intilligence.’ ‘ Well, Katie,’ ses I, ‘ ’tis the first time I heard av intilligent wrinkles, but I suppose ’tis all right, for the English language is a quare thing, for I see a woman wance met a man who was a perfect bear, an’ they called him a civil engineer.’ ‘Tes,’ ses Katie, ‘but that’s not so ridiculous as the man they call ‘ teller’ in a bank. He won’t tell you aanything. A frind av mine asked .van the other day how much money her husband had on deposit, an’ he just laughed at her.’ * * *

‘Well, Katie,’ ses I, ‘by way av testin’ yer intelligence, can ye tell me what is dredgin’?’ ‘I can that, Denis,’ ses she, ‘ for I’ve often dredged or shprinkled flour on to mate, an’ thin there’s a dredgin’ machine for takin’ up irud an’ gravel from the bottom av rivers.’ ‘ Begorra, Katie,’ ses I, ‘’tis the'wise woman ye are, for ye’ve hit aff the dredgin’ industry in Southland to a nicety, for in most cases the shareholders have bin shprinkling their money into the river, wid nivir a return except mud, an’ gravel, an’ bowlders.’ * *

The foregoin’ conversation tuk place some time back, an* ye can imagine me surprise whin I wint home the other day an’ found Katie sittin’ in the big chair by the fire, an’ Bobbin’ as if her heart ’ud break, ‘Och, Denis,’ ses she, ‘ ’tis ruined we are, an’ afcher ye warned me about dredgin’.’ ‘ Be aisy, woman,’ ses I, ‘ an’ explain yersilf.’ ‘ Och, Denis, ’twill be afcher. killin’ me ye’ll be whin’ I tell you. You know what a showery day it was. Well, whin I was cleanin’ the windows a gintleman came along, an’ said he wanted to see you. I towld the craytur to come in out av the wet, and explained that you were out, an’ ses he, ‘ I am very sorry to see yon an’ ray frind Mr O’Shea workin* hard all your lives, an’ for the good wishes I have for ache av ye, if ye’ll give me a £5 note I’ll get you a dredgin’ share that’ll be the manes av relayin’ Denis an’

enablin’ yersilf to kape a silk dress on your back, an’ to do nothing for the balance av your life unless you want to.’ * * * ‘ Well, Denis,’continued Katie,’the gintleman shpoke so fair that I gave him the note that me brother lift for the ehilder before he wint to South. Africa, an’ he handed what he called scrip in the Go Bung Gold Dredgin’ Co., signed by the secretary, Mr Take-’em-in, an’ now, Denis, here’s a a letther demandin’ calls to the amount av £5. An’ there’s more to follow, Denis. Wirra, wirra—’tis ruined we are,’ ‘Not a bit ay it, Katie,’ ses i, ‘ they can’t take the trousers aff a Highlander, an’ we’ll forfeit the shares.’ ‘ That won’t help ye, Denis,’ ses she, ‘ for they can forfeit the shares, an’ shtill howld ye liable.’ ‘ Well,’ ses I, ‘ let it shtand, but I hope this’ll be a warnin’ to ye, Katie.’ ‘lt will, Denis,' it will, as long as wather runs in the Estuary I’ll nivir touch another dredgin’ viuture, an' I’ll kill wid a glance the first man that talks to me av makiu’ a rapid fortune by manes av dredgin’ shares.’ ‘ Do, Katie,’ ses I, ‘ an’ ye’ll be like an American lawyer I read about wid a most impressive way ,av lukin’ at juries, that made another lawyer say wan day— ‘ And now, gentlemen, I’ve answered his arguments, I’ve overturned bis statement ot facts, I’ve undone the fallacious law he has announced to you ; but, gentlemen, the man never lived who can reply to his looks.’

* * * Whin I towld Angus about Katie's escapade, he said that what wint on here was nothing to the things that was done on the West Coast, where two brothers named Lawson lately got two years for ‘ saltin’ ’ claims, an’ sellin’ thim. 1 An’ this,’ ses he ‘is what the judge said whin summin’ up: —• The sum total, as far as the Lawsons are concerned, is that mysterious good fortune followed them—payable gold in every shaft. They clear £BOO from their two claims, and then advise those who have joined them to clear out- —not in so many words, but to get out of it if they could. They did not get out of it, and are nob doubt sorry for the result. Lastly, these two parties settle everything on their wives, just before these proceedings, in order to protect their honest earnings.’ ‘ There’s a moral in that, Denis, ses Angus. ‘ There is,’ ses I,’ aa’ it’s writ large, an’ its to the effect that ’tis handy to have a wife. Luk at me frind Hooley, at Home. His estate’s paid 2s in the £, an’ all the time he’s livin’ at the rate av’ £15,000 a year, an’ matin’ big money —as agent for his wife.’

3f= # * Katie an’ mesilf spint a pleasant evenin’ at the Cycling Club’s euchre party the other night, an’ whin I towld Angus he shud have bin there he said no that he cudua hae a pairfcy back agin, an’ I towld him he reminded me av the Scotch farmer, who was asked to the funeral av a neighbour’s third wife. As he had attended the funeral of the two others his own wife was rather surprised when he declined. On being pressed he gave his reason with some hesitation. ‘ Weel, ye see, gudewife, it mak’s a chap feel a bit awkward like to be aye acceptin’ ’ither folks’ civilities, whin he nivir has naething o’ the sort o’ his ain tae ask them back tae.’ Denis.