The Contributor.

Southern Cross, Volume 14, Issue 29, 15 September 1906, Page 5

The Contributor.

DENIS DISCOURSES.. Dear Mr Editor, —’Tis mesilf is thinkin' there musht be a conspiracy at the Bluff to advertise the attractions av the port in the columns av the “Southern Cross,’’ for whin I got home on Widnesday night there .was three lettheps shtuck on the mantelpiece awaitin’ me perusal. Two av thim were from the Bluff, the first radin’ as under : “Dear Mr Denis,—Ye’ll be afther wonderin’ what’s become av me an’ Bridget. Well, we’ve been away on our second honeymoon, an’ have just got back to the Bluff. Ses I to Bridget, ‘Ye just wait here till I go in an’ see me frind ‘Snowy’ an’ have a shave at the same time, an’ wud ye belave it, there was no chance av gettin' near the chair for arguments. There was me frind ‘Jaick’ that’s to be married soon, wavin’ his arms about, an’ sayin’ he wud like to find the man that put his name in the paper. Thin there’s me frind ‘Archie’ that plays the soprano in the Band, he’s worried wid the grate number av post cards he’s gettin’, an’ sure, things have got up-side-down since we’ve been away. But me frind Roger is not dead yet. Thin there's the brave min av the fire brigade—they have been doin’ thing’s in grate shtylc. Wan day, I’m towld. they called a matin’ av all the ladies av the Bluff, an’ while the ladies were fixin up thingr for the. social wan av the brave min lukt afther the babies, an’ it was the great fun to see him thryin’ to amuse the little wans. —Yours truly, O’BRIEN. ” * * •» * “Well,” ses Katie, “there’s wan thing the letther proves.” “What’s that ?” ses I. “Why,” ses she, “it proves that the Bluff is a civilised kind av a place, for they've got a barber’s shop there an' a fire brigade, an babies.”’ “Well,”- ses Bedalia, “there’s wan man at the Bluff that thinks the place is gettin’ too much advertisin’ in the papers, an’ that’s our frind Mr Hinchey. He objects to all the min that go to the Bluff to buy drink, and come to Invercargill an’ get drunk, bein' called Bluff drunks.” “He is quite right,” ses I, “an' the paple that call thim Bluff drunks musht be as quare as the Yorkshire mill-worker that was charged wid havin’ set fire to a la'rge haystack, an’ was defindod on the ground that he was not altogether responsible for his actions. Wan av the witnesses, a typical Yorkshireman, testified to the belief that he was ‘wrang in his held.’ ‘Can you mention any occasion on which the prisoner behaved in a.i manner to warrant your statement ?’ he was axed by the prosecutin’ . counsel. ‘Yes,’ ses the witness, ‘Ah mind once ’at got haiwf a crown too much for his wage, an’ ’ ‘Well ?’ ses counsel, as the witness hesitated. ‘He took it back to f manager !’ added the witness, amidst a roar av laughter.” * * * * “Yes,” ses Corney, “it ’ud nivir do to be labellin’ paple Bluff drunks, Wallacetown drunks, or Otautau, Riverton, or Orepuki drunks. It ’ud

be like the Irish pracher that had wan sermon for different places. In Dublin he shtarted aff wid ‘My dear Dublin souls,’ in Belfast it was ‘My dear Belfast souls,’ an’ whin he got to Cork it was ‘My dear Corksouls.’ ” * * * * Thin here’s letther No. 2—another advertisement for the Bluff, so it is : Dear Denis, —D’ye know annything about oysters ? Seein’ that ye are a denizen av a fresh wather ilimint I don’t think I’ll be castin’ a reflection on yer lamin’, or yer intilligence, by sayin’ that I’ll undertake to till ye a little more about thim than ye’d larn from a plate av the soup.

An oyster is scientifically known as a “byvalve”—that is to say he has> a flure an’ roof entirely for his own convanience, made out av a kind av concrete in the shape av a couple av oblong saucers, wid highly-polished intariors done out in rainbow tints. He gits into wan saucer, dhraws the other mouth down on top av thart, fashtens a hinge betwane the two at wan side, glues his back on to wan saucer an’ his chist on to the other wid a specially-prepared 40 horsepower oemint av his own invinshun, an’ thin by the fizical devilopment process av expandin’ an conthractin’ his chist he opens an’ shuts the door.

He nivir provides army accommodation for Mrs Oyster beyond givin’ her the resate for the concrete an’ the cemint an’ lottin’ her do the best she can for hersilf. This is a splendid arrangement, Denis, for whin Mrs Oyster is in wan av her moods, an’ begins to bombard Mr Oyster wid 'a discharge av domestic troubles from her "quick-firer” he jusht retrates into the aeclushun av his own hermitage until she sounds "cease firin’.” Sometimes an inimy perches himsilf on the upper roof, an’ whin he opens the door he darts' in his head or his finger, but the inimy who has the misfortune to get caught in the jamb av the door ginerally carries the mark on his finger an’ a wholesome respict for the oyster in his mimory. The gratest natural inirnies the oyster has at the Bluff are "Irwin an’ Rodei'ique.” Roderiquo ! That’s a fine historical name, Denis. The sound av that name makes a Scotchman’s chist' shtand out, causes his eye to flash fire, an’ makes him straighten himsilf up wid a jurk, as' his mimory darts back to his warlike ancistors. “Roderique Dhu,” ye know, Denis, was a townie av "Mountain Dew.” * * * * But to the oysters. The Bluff is the hub av the oyster universe. They radiate in shframes from the Bluff under the direction av Irwin an' Roderique, north, south, east, an’ west. Ho’ system av advertisin’ that the fertility av janius cud invint cud equal the oysters as an’ advortisin ma/dium for the Bluff. For instance a Milbourne gint sits down to have an oyster supper. He happens on a shtale Bluff oyster. Ho splutters an’ spits, an’ calls the proprietor, an’ uses langwidge, an' wants to know where in sufferin’ creation that oyster came from. The proprietor tills ihim in a tone av indignation that

it’s a Bluff oyster, an' considers that fact sufficient guarantee for the oyster’s quality. The gint rushes' home an’ gits his atlas, luks up the latitude an’ longitude av the Bluff, an’ tills the shtory a v that shtale oyster to iviry mam that’ll liahten to him for the next twilve months.

The twang av a shtale Bluff oyster, Denis is something like a mixture av spirits av hartshorn, sulphuretted hydrogen an’ bluestone, wid an indigo tint. It requires no ambergris so fix the odour av it on yer ptalate; ’twill shtick there till ye rache ould age ; it destroys yer interest in the bill av fare for ivir, an’ is buried wid ye in the grave.

It is very hard, Denis, to describe an oyster an’ at the same time keep widin the Publishers’ Act, but in appearance an oyster is something like a bit a v beef f a t that the baby’s been playin’ wid for a couple av hours. Some paple are fond av atin’ raw oysters. In order to enjoy oysters in the raw or live shtate its necessary that ye shud be endowed by Nature wid special functions an’ qualifications to enable ye to carry out the operation av "vivi-mastica-shun.” Ye musn’t have anny fine or delicate susceptibilities av the appetite ; ye musht be cool an’ collected ; yer narvous system must be in good order ; an’ ye musht have a stummick wid the disintegratin’ powers av aqtia fortis. Teeth are not necessary to the a tin’ av raw oysters ; don’t put yer tooth in a live oyster under anny circumstances, or if ye do ye’ll nivir forgit it. A dhrop av nice oyster soup, Denis, or a fried oyster, or a stewed oyster are delicacies that I can reconamind ; but if ye value yer health, the goodwill av yer wife, an’ the welfare av yer family steer clear av live ovsters.—DOOLAN. » * * * "Sure,” ses Comey, "the nixt oyster I ate, I’ll Irate wid more respict that I ivir did before, for I nivir knew there was so much in wan beore.” "No,”- ses I, "oysters are like the pike that the Irishman caught—ye nivir know what’s inside av thim. ’Tis a fine shtory, an’ if anny wan towld it to me nixt month, whin the fishin’ say son opens, I’d have me doubts about it, but annyway it goes like this : —An Irishman had caught a big pike. Notin’ a) lump in its stummick he cut it open. ‘As I cut it open,’ ses he, there was ai mighty rush an’ a flappin’ av wings an’ away flew a wild duck, an’ begorra, whin I lukt inside, there was a nest wid four eggs, an’ she had been afthcr sittin’ on the nest.’ ”

Now we come to letther No. 3, an’ I may as well till ye at wance that I’ve cut out the piece where the writer said he thought he’d give up writin’ poetry, for its my belief he’ll go on till the ind av the chapter till the 'Author av all things writes “Finis” on his life. But here’s the epistle : “Dear Denis, —Your sensible wife, Katie, spoke truly, as she always does, whin she said I would be wellpleased when I read the kind and complimentary poem composed by

my friend, who signs himself ‘ Bush Poet.' Alcohol was sent chiefly to compensate elderly people for loss of appetite, decrease of. vitality, to ©n-; able them to take an optimistic view, of the future, and to make them feel friendly, generous, and charitable to each other. At one time I could ask a friend who did m© a kindness to accompany me to the Club or the Albion, where a pretty, smiling girl would serve us with the water of life, to cheer our hearts and strength.-; en our friendship. If he was a Scottie like myself, by and by© he might say, ‘Surely ye’ve been youn pint stoup, an' surely I'll be mine. l But alas ! ‘The light of other days is faded, and all their glory's past. l As ‘Bush Poet’ has known me so long, he cannot be a young fellow, and if he comes to my house he can still get a drop of whisky to help us to talk. Few' poets have composed under such adverse ci rcu instances!, with so little encouragement, and with so few sources of inspiration as I have done. In most European countries poets have been highly honoured, and in Scotland the plough.' man poet Burns has been esteemed more than any kirig, warrior, or statesman. However, my lot has been cast amongst a different class of people, with very different tastes.; Amongst young male Australasians a footballer, a wrestler, a prize-fighter, a jockey, or a successful gambler, ia more valued than any poet. If they were offered the choice for 3d, of a long beer or a book of poetry, I believe an overwhelming majority would go for the beer, and only a small minority would choose the poetry. However, I have met many ladies who appreciate poetry and a poet.

I have seen only the one sample of my friend ‘Bush Poet’s' poetic talent, but from that I am pleased to see that he is well qualified to wear the mantle which I wish to drop. Deal’ Denis, it must be a long time since you left Ireland, but in the “Southern Cross’’ you have published many fine selections of Irish poetry, but I do not know whether you composed any of them yourself. With best wishes to yourself, your sensible wife, and your clever family, —I am, yours truly, ANDREW KINROSS.’’ * # # ♦ “He’s very complimentary, Katie,’’ ses I, “an' 'tis proud I fale av the sinsible wife an’ clivir family. “He's a poet,’’ ses Katie, “an’ ye know! how they gush. “Well,’’ ses I. “ I don't see that poets are much differf ent to other paple.” “They are, all the same, Denis, ’’ ses Katie —“they are like the soldier at Home. ' Do you see much difference between 'Americans and Englishmen ?- a handsome, spoiled English guardsman axed a sparklin’ American girl newly arrived in London society. 'Oh, yes,’ was her qui<k reply. ‘Over there the men admire us ; here we are expected to admire you.’ ’’ DENIS.