The Contributor

Southern Cross, Volume 19, Issue 25, 30 September 1911, Page 5

The Contributor

DEAR MR EDITOR,— Professor Mills is the grate shpea»ker, an’ ’twas mesilf 'enjoyed his lecture on Thursday night on “Alcoho - ic Degeneracy.” But all. the was wishin’ ye curl have heard lom Vincent on that same subject. VVno is Tom Vincent, annyway ?” ses hatie. "Sure,” ses I, “I thought ivirybodv knew him. Why, he s the n^ n that puts yer chimneys in hrshtclass order whin they git foul, an by the same token, if he tuk to lecturin’ he’d draw 7 as well as the chimneys do afther he’s done wid thim” “Can he talk well? ’ axed Katie. “Talk, is it?” ses I. “why. av coorse he can—he’d talk the hind leg rdf a pot if it wasn’t fashtened on An’ he’s no gasbag either, lit me till ye. Sure, he's thravelled, an he’s got a philosophy av life that makes him happy an’ ivirywan else that he meets. Ye see he came out in the Jessie Headman 35 years ago, an’ tnried his hand at different jobs. Wance he w T int to the Midland railway works, but the Govcrnmint forgot to sind up tints, so Tom paid his grocer’s bill wid his too-is, got a couple av sacks to shleep in, an’ set aff to thramp fiom the Bealey to the Bluff. An he did it, too, Wan dirty wet evenin’ he axed a farmer for shelter for the •night, but Mr Farmer said he’d have nothin’ to do wid swaggers. “Now,” ses Tom, “they can’t get even swaggers for love or money. "■* Well, to make a long shtory shorter. Tom hurt his hand whin he was lump in , so sooner than go idle he tuk up wid chimney-shweep in’, an’ a rattlin good job he makes_ av it.”

yv v: ‘ Wci ises Katie, ‘‘he’s had an interestin’ career.” “He has that, ses I, “an’ if ye ivir meet him, ax him to show 7 ye his demonstration on the effects av tea v. beer, wid the lump av raw beef. It’s an eye-open-er an’ no mishtake. Begorra, the Shporfs Protection League ought to give Mr Vincent a billet as well as Mr Paaoe —he’d do the scientific part av the business, an’ if there was ivir army throuble at a meetin’, jusht git him to till ye the tale av the man . wid the broken nose —if that doesn t settle the rowdy wans, I don’t know what will. If not, let Tom at thim, an’ in less than no time they’ll be like Mrs Casey’s husband. Mrs Casey was sittin’ mendin’ in the sittin room, whin a breathless man came to the- door. Before he cud be questioned he broke forth, Did not Pat wear his 10-guinea watch to work this mornin’, Mrs Casons ? tuire he did,’ ses Mrs Casey, inquiringly. ‘Jusht his luck,’ ses the other. ‘Two ton av coa! has jusht fell on his chist V T- T - Somowan who has gone in for shpring poetry inshtead av shpiingclanin’, sinds the followin’ T Waikawa sent up Mr Currie, Who on his mind had, some small worry. But found relief, then got quite merry— At the opening of our railway. And Mr Miller, ardent friend,. Who long had laboured at this end, And did his time and money spend, And, with the powers that be contend — Till now we’ve got our railway. The ladies’ league were going strong, And treated well the official throng, And toasts were honoured loud and strong To Mrs Gray and Miss McKay At the opening of our railway.'

’And many more, to nle unknown, Deserve a record of their own, For what they've done, the grit they’ve shown, The opposition they’ve overthrown — And given us a railway. “What do ye think av the pome, Corney ?” ses I. “Think av 7 it, dad” ses ho. “why, if I knew the author av it, I’d be ineiined to threat him as Moses thought av threatin’ Solomon. While walkin’ by the canal they saw a notice-board which stated that five shill in’s ’ud be paid to whoivir rescued another, man from 'drownin’. It didn’t take thim more than a minute to arrange that wan shud fall in an’ be saved by the oth-

Denis Discourses.

er, an’ the shtakes divided. In wint Sol, an’ found it rather deeper than he cxoicted. Howivir, he splashed about, callin' : ‘Come on, Moses ! save me!’ Moses hesitated. ‘Sol,’ ses he, ‘l've been readin' that notice board again, an’ it says, ‘Ten shillings for a dead body.' Now do be reasonable,' ”

Me ould frind “Scotty” av Rival Bush has been puttin' pen to paper, an' he thinks a little bit av broad Scotch 'ud be a relief afther so much Irish, so I’m goin' to humour him. so here’s his epistle : Dear Denis, —Bein’ a wee whilie syne ye got a wheen notes frae me, Ah thocht Ah wad tak’ a> notion an’ let ye ken a wheen o’ the nows. The weather is a wee thocht broken, but tak’ it a’ through, we canna complain, as the Hielan’man said when he io’il in the bog —“Aye, mon, she maun tak’ things as they 7 are,” m.s ge wrastl.ed on tae idr.v grund again, for he said she micht hae been drooned ; sae let us be thankfu’. The ma.ist o’ thae cheese factories hae got stair!ed again, an’ by a’ stories they are giein’ muckh siller for the milk. Some places the grass is a wee scrimp it yet, in ithers it is awfu" gu id—terrible guid, as oor mild freen Ilab o’ Waikiwi says. It is terrible guid roou aboot here awa’. There is fine droves o’ wee lamrnies friskin’ aboot the fields.

Oor. local statiomnaister has been awa’ for a wheen holidays, an’ ma word, he was sairly missed, as Sandy said when the whusky ran a’ oot o’ the jar—‘‘she wall hardly ken whit tae dae noo, but ma word, the wee drappie wull be missed till she has time tae see Plank doon by the public-hoo.se.”

I see oor auld freen Jim McNeeoo, o' fftba’ fame gettin’ his bit o’ bush grund a’ redd up—a graun lot o’ firewood. Wee 1 * done, .Jimmie.

There is a bit o’ exciiemint on here the noo. Oor auld crony, .Jimmie McNeill, o’ The Retreat fairm, is a candidate for a seat on the Southland County Council. Then there is Tam Fraser, anither. auld crony, aifter the same job as Jimmie. Weel, they are haith dooee canny men. Ah think they wull be haein’ a fine time o’ it the noo visitin’ a’ the fairmers’ wives—aye, an’ I hope they wull tak’ guid tent o’ a’ the roads, an’ 7 when it comes pollin’ day I wish them haith success ; but Ah'm think in’ ane o’ them wull hae tae staun’ by an’ wish the ither man success that day, as Jock Broon said when Rab Scott got inarrit. The folk were a’ wishin’ the new-marrit anes hantles o’ joy, when Jock was staunnin’ oot o’ the eroml, never sayin’ a word. An’ when the meenister says, “John, ma man, are ye no wishin’ Robert joy the same as the rest ?” says Jock, "Na, ria, meenister, I canna dae that —for Ah wantit the lassie for masel’.’-

I see McPherson an’ his pairtner hae ta’en a wee bit fairm up this way, an’ they are gaun tae milk a wheen kye. I hae seen Abie Chips frae the West Plains. They tell me he is a great enthusiast on fishm’-, the same as his mate is on tellin’ stories. Rab is ai canny gaun ehiel, wha wields the hammer, plane, an’ saw. Ane story he telt me the ither day aboot plantin’ rhubarb wis t a e be sure an’ gie it plenty o’ manure. There wis anither story aboot a hidden treasure, but Ah must get him tae tell me again, as Ah hae forgot the noo.

The local freezin' warks buildin’ close tae Makarewa, is fast drawin’ tae a feenish, as Rab Ila’, a Glasgow glutton, sa,id. Rab took on a bet ane day that he wad eat a calf made up in pies, so the bet wis ta’en tip, an’ the day set. When Rab got tae the place where the feed wis tae be, they askit him wad he tak a bite Tore the denner was ready. “ Oh, aye, a] wee bite r twaJ- Rs. j stairtit tae eat, an’ then they said—‘A wee bit mair, Rab ?’' i At last Rab said—“Ah think Ah wull hae tae ca’ canny, as I hae a cauf tae eat for ma denner.” “Oh, just anither bite or twa», Rab, an’ the cauf wull be feenished,” as the freezin' wa.rlcs wull soon be.

“Well,” ses Bedaiia, “Scotty’s the man to write for ye whin ye go for a holiday, dad,” “Do ye think so?” ses I “I do,” ses she, ’Tuk at the siitoek av yarns he’s got, an’ that’s what the paple like.” “I belave ye are right,” ses I, “an* he seems to write widout anny throuble or fuss — he’s not like the young lady in the shtory. It was shpring. ‘Harold !’ she called. He rose hastily from, his work an’ descended two flights. ‘Yes, love ?’ ‘I want your pocket-knife.’ He produced it. ‘And please tell -Jane,’ she wint on, ‘to bring me a big apron, a duster, and the chamois leather.’ ‘Certainly, dear,’ ses Harold. ‘Anything else ‘Yes, I want the yard thoroughly swept. You’d better do it at once. And I want an old toothbrush, some ammonia, the screwdriver— ’ ‘What for, dear ?’ he axed. ‘Are you going to repair the furniture ?’ ‘Sh ! And some old rags and a pail of warm water —’ ‘A surgical operation ?’ ‘Oh, do keep still while I think ! Yes, I must have a pair of old gloves, too —a pair of yours will do —some soap, and a short ladder.’ ‘What on earth, my dear, do you want all these things for ?’ he expostulated. ‘How dense you are. Harold !’ ses she testily. I am going to overhaul my bike !’

“So Mr Paape’s goin’ to lave us,” ses Katie. “He is,” ses I, “an’ in wan way I’m not sorry.” “That’s a quare way av puttin’ it, Denis,” ses Katie. “Well,” ses I, “did ye see the number av billets he hikl—secretary to over a dozen different societies, includin’ some av the mosht important, an’ it’s, betther for him to go now than later, for if he’d stayed much longer he’d have been runnin’ the -town, an’ thin we’d have missed him more than ivir.” “ No wonder,” ses Bedalia, “that he wud not go under £SOO a year an’ £250 for thraveilin’ expenses—a man av his calibre isn’t picked up iviry day.” “Well,” ses Corney, “he’s got lots iw pluck, an’ that’s what paple like —it’s neck or nothin’ wid him—he's like the youngster that Dr. Wood, the popular head, mashter ay Harrow school, wance towld about. The boy had missed a battalion drill, which is considered a somewhat serious offence at the famous school,. The doctor summoned the lad. an American, to his shtudy, an’ thus addressed him :—‘Do you know, as the honorary colonel of the cadet corps, I can have you shot, and as the head master I can have you birched ? Now, which sentence do you prefer ?” The humour av the situation overcame the culprit’s nervousness, an’ wid a shmile he replied —“I prefer to be shot, sir, because then you’M be hung.’'

I thought there was a thundershtorm coinin’ on lasht Wednesday afther no on, hut Corney ses it was only the C Battery goin’ in for biggun firin' on the Riverton Beach.- He ses there’s no truth in the report that that a German airship was talcin’ notes av the results, an’ that the Ka.iser is goin’ to alter the methods av the German artillery as soon as possible. “It musht have been excitin’ work,” ses Katie. “Yes,” .ses I, “it reminds me ay the actor an’ a retired Army man who were discussin’ the perils av their respective callin’s. ‘How would you like to stand here with shells bursting round you?’ the general demanded. ‘Well,’ ses the actor, ‘it all depends on the age of the egg.’ ” DENIS.