The Contributor.

Southern Cross, Volume 17, Issue 17, 7 August 1909, Page 5

The Contributor.

Denis Discourses. Dear Mr Editor,—Unless we get a change for the betther soon, life won't be worth livin'. There's too manny surprises in it for me fancy. The other day I was shtandin' in Dee shtreet in front av the place where ould Mr Wright used to supply his cushtomers wid "the ripples av Jordan." Ye see, they've cleared aff the ould b'uildin's to make a fine arcade through to Leven shtreet, for Sir J. G. Ward. Up comes a man, ah' ses he' to me —"Did ye hear about Sir Joseph Ward ?" "No," ses I. "Why, he fell overboard from the steamer at Honolulu." "How did he come to do that." ses I, wid the innocence that belongs to the O'Shea family. "Why," ses he, edgin' away a few feet, "he wanted to float ' alone.' " "Well, Denis," ses Katie, "it serves ye right for bein' dense. Sure, ye might have known he was thryin' to pull your leg." "Well," ses I. '"I'll thry me level besht to git back at him. I'll follow him up the same as the man that wanted to serve on a jury. A number av jurymin appeared before a certain judge, an' iviry man explained that it wud mane disashter to him to serve at that time—all but a little fellow at the hid av the line, a hunter who had lived in a cabin on the creek all his life. 'You have no excuse to offer ?' axed the surprised judge. 'No, sir.' 'Haven't got a sick mother-in-law- needin' your attention, then ?' 'No, sir. I ain't married.' 'What about your crop ?' ' Don't raise anything.' 'No fence to fix up?' | 'Haven't got a fence on the place.' j 'You think you can spare the time to serve on a jury two weeks ?' 'Sure.' The judge sat a while an' meditated. Reachin' over he whispered to the clerk, who shook his head in perplex- ] ity. Thin the judge's curiosity got j the better av him. 'You are the only i man who has got the time to serve. | your country as a juryman," he said. ' Would -•- mind telling me how it happens?' 'Sure not,' the little man j replieti promptly, '1 heard you was goin' to try Jake Billings. He shot J a dog o' mine once.' " j

There's been so much cowld wather poured on the airship epidemic that paple are not seem' so manny a*v thim as they did a week or two ago. Mr Wragge ses they're due to cosmic clusht ; another man ses it's paple from Mars signallin' to the earth ; an' thin the Rev. Mr Fairclough, a v Dunedin, who knows nearly as much as Mr Wragge about earthquakes, ses it's all humbug. This is how he puts it : —'"'The airship craze is getting beyond a joke. There is a danger of our level-headed community becoming a laughing stock, not only to New Zealand, but to Australia, and even to the greater world beyond. We do not want to be advertised in that way, and that is my excuse for writing seriously about it. I consider that the explanation of the affair is to be sought in psychology. The world has had a great many examples of extraordinary popular delusions such as the South Sea Bubble, the tulip mania in Holland, the credulity which floated Titus Oates into infamy, the persecutions of witches, and dxedging booms. These phenomena ai-ise in times of public excitement, when every whisper and shrug is taken as evidence, and the capacity to weigh matteis is for the time submerged by some human passion, such as fear or greed. Such a time of excitement has been brought perilously near by' the German scare, the Dreadnought episode, and the conquest of the air. Everything is ripe and ready for a popular delusion."

"Well," sos Corney, "I do be hopin' that we'll hear no more av the lights in the sky—l'm gettin' tired av the subject—it's fair bothered I am, like Pat whin he was zig-zaggin' his way along a counthry road. A minister av the goshpel came along - , an' shtraightenin' himsilf up, Pat axed : 'Can ye till me how far is't from here to Wa'llacetown ?' ' About four miles,' answered the clergyman, •' but my good man, you have a long road before you.' 'lt ain't the lin'th av the road that's thrubblin' me at all, at all, ver riverince,' hiccoughed Pat. ' It's the width av it !' "

"Well," ses Bedalia, "if all's thrue that the scientific min say w r e'd betther bide awee before we borrow money for the thramways, for they may be thrown on o'ur hands like so manny white elephants." "Why do ye talk like that, Bedalia," ses I. "Well, dad," ses she,, "here's what I've been radin' in the London Times : "If

[only the motor had come a little leailier the railways... would have been constructed only for special purposes lof long distance transit, or might, perhaps not have been required at all. The partial suppression of the railways may suggest some caution in dealing with the motor traffic. We are told that it has come to stay. . . Railways came to stay, but the motor has checked their expansion, and seriously injured their revenues. Things are moving more rapidly than they did fifty years ago, so that we cannot be sure that the motor in turn is not destined to be dethroned. It would be rather disgusting to find after reconstructing all our roads, that the wealthy classes .... had taken to aeroplanes. More unlikely things have happened." "Thin," ses Bedalia, "I see that Mr Edison ses that we'll be havin- airships carry in' mails through space at the rate av 100 miles an hour, so what chance 'ud tram cars have against the like av that, to say nothin' av Heads an' Hill's buses !"

"Well," ses Oorney, "I'd like to hear what Mr Fraser, the ianial driver av the Waikiwi bus, 'ud say to that. He's no grate likin' for tram cars, but I've, heard his opinion on airships." "I'd not ax him for it if 1 were you, Corney," "for ye might find that he's like Patrick Murphy, whin he was preparin' to go out on fair day. His wife called out : ' Pat, have ye got yer shillelagh ?' 'I have that,' ses Pat, at the same time emphasisin' the fact by a thunderous thwack on the doorposht. 'Thin put a brick inside yer hat. Remimber the broken head the boys give ye la'sht fair day.' 'Thank ye for the gintle reminder, me darlint, but I've got a betther surprise packet for the spalpanes. I've sewed a dynamite cartridge inside me hat. There'll be an unhappy fair day for somewan whin they thry to break Pat Murphy's head this year, I'm afther thinkin'."

"Well," ses Katie, "I've had a letther from a frind in the counthry. an' I'm thinkin' if ivirywan was as busy as she is there'd be very few airships seen—the paple 'ud not have time to see thim. Ses wan in her letther : "Dear Katie, —I was well plased to rade the article in the ' Cross ' about unknown heroines — the women that kape house year aftli'er yeai widout fee or reward excipt the love an' gratituhe av thim that we work far—an' we don't always git that, clo we, Katie? Howivir, in case ye might be thinkin' I've got too much shpare time on me hands, here's a lisht av the week's work up our way : Up on Monday early is the order for

the day. Anything else might be put off, but the washin' never may. So rub, rub, rub the clothes, and in-

to the boiler they go, With a little soap, and boil them well —'tis the cheapest way, you know.

On Tuesday I must iron, to "gar ilka thing look braw," From the starched white shirt to the kerchief that I washed the day before.

Wednesday is my bakin' day. so early I must rise To bake my bread, my scones, and cakes, likewise my tarts and pies.

Thursday is my spare day, when the mendin' must be done : From the darnin' o' socks and stockings to the rent that may be run.

Then up at dawn on Friday, with the butter to churn and make, The dairy and all utensils to wash, ere my bieakfast I may take. Saturday is the last of the week, so I must up with the sun, For the weather just seems made for me to get mv work a' done. 4-

"That's a hard-workin' woman for ye, Denis, if ye like," ses Katie. "She is," ses I, "she's a'v the same mind as the Irishman I met the other day. He was carryin' big bags av coal up a. shtaircase, an' whin he was coniin' down, ses I to him —'That is hard work ye're doin'.' 'lt is,' ses he, wid a. lafl', 'but it's a long way aiser than lukin' for work.' ' Well,' ses Corney, 'he's fonder av work than the man was av his son's dog. The Lancashire paple are fond av dogs—in fact, they're very proud av thim, all' therefore whin a prominent fancier came home wan night, an' found his son had bought a nondescript mongrel, he felt angry. ' How much did thee g;ie for tha dog ?' he axed. 'Five shillin's,' ses the son. 'Tell thee what A'll do/ ses the parent. 'A'll go shares wi' thee. 'A'll gie ye half-a-croon for ma share.' The half-crown was duly paid, thin the father remarked : 'A'll take t' ta!il-.end, and A'm goin' to kick ma half outen the door.' An' he did."

Whin 1' shtarted these discourses, Mr Editor, I towld ye life was too full av surprises, , an' begorra, so it is. I don't mind the "gentle Mr Bates," as Mr Wragge calls him, wid his probable rain, an' his" probable high sea, an' his probable fall in the barometer ; but what about Mr Wragge. He nivir tempered the wind to the shorn lamb till the other day, whin he copied Mr Bates ginerally in the firsht part av his latest forecast. Here it is : "A great disturbance in the sun is expected between August I.lth and 25th, and within that period more earthquakes and volcanic action will PROBABLY occur. Let residents cut this out and watch the cablegrams. Remember Mexico. Those having telescopes with dark glasses should observe the sun between the dates named, or throw a, solar image on a screen. The rear or hinder part of the disturbance ' Arnold ' which has caused such heavy weather in the North Island, is now in tull play. Further gales from between south-west and south-east may be expected, and more treacherous weather on the coast. The disturbance, 'Nemo ' will soon follow, and the entire conditions between New Zealand and Australia are very foxy. Later disturbances will succeed 'Nemo.' and August promises some interesting studies in the lyrics of the atmosphere."

"The lyrics av the atmosphere, forsooth I Begorra, it's aisy for Mr Wragge to talk in that light an airy fashion whin he's had wan av the mosht successful lecture tours ivir tnade by a public entertainer." "Nivii mind, Denis," ses Katie, "sure he will have to alter his tactics directly, or he'll be as much disliked as the woman that sat down beside an Irishman at a railway depot. Ses she : 'Sir, if you are a gentleman, you would not smoke here.' 'Mum,' ses he, 'if ye was a lady ye'd sit farther away." Pretty soon the woman burst out agin : 'lf ye were my husband I would give you poison/ 'Well, mum,' returned the Irishman, as he puffed away at his pipe, 'if ye was me wife I'd take it.' "

Afther havin' had me fill av the oyster soup at the Leet Street concert the other night I wint home, but not to shlape. Ye. see, I wint as far as Northind wid Angus McGregor to lave him part av the way home, an' whin we got opposite the new gaol he got talkin' about the gaol an' the prison farm that's to be built at Otata'ra, an' afther I got to bed I fell to dhramin'. I don't know how many years has passed, away, but I seemed to meet me fiind Towler Gambling, an' he was lukin' up to the shky. Ses T. "Why are gazin' into the hivens in that fashion ?" "Don't you see them. Denis, ses he. "See what '?" ses I. "The men in the sky !" ses he. "Oh," ses 1. "is this the latest devilopmint it used to be airships—now it's min in the sky." "Where have you been, Denis ? Don't you know that nowadays iviry nian is his own airship ! Bob Murie solved the problem long 'ago. an' now he's livin'" on the proceeds av his invintion." "An' what are the min in the sky doin' ?" ses I, by way av encouragin' Mr Gambling to till me more. "Well," ses he, "there's a grate farm for prisoners over there, an' they're that well thrated, an' made so comfortable that the inmates av the gaols in the North Island are always escaping and coming down here." Wid that he told me to luk through his glass, an' this is what I saw.

"Well'," ses T. "it bates all, but I am quite'ready to belave that they're prisoners all right, judgin' by their luks." "Jusht thin I woke up in time to hear Angus sayin' to me fine ould frind Conshtable Bonner—" Take me easy. Constable ; I wis reared a pet, ye ken." He was taken at his word. "Well." ses Katie, "ye'll lave oyster soup alone afther that." "Wes," ses I. "I won't run afther it another time —T won't be so eager to git it as Bishop Potter av New York w T as to marry the widow wid £300,000 whin he was 70 years av age. Some-

wan axed an American young ladywhy lie did it. 'Oh,' ses she, ' they say that the Bishop took a fancy to the widow's mite, and the widow took a fancy to the Bishop's mitre.' " Talkin' av the Leet shtreet concert, Mr Editor, 'twas the grate shtory widout woTds we had from Mi'Wallace an' Mr Gilmore, but Corney's got a better wan shtill. He calls it "The Airship: Cause an' Effect." Sere it is :