A BUSINESS OF THE STATE MAN ABROAD.

Te Aroha News, Volume XLI, Issue 6602, 21 May 1925, Page 5

A BUSINESS OF THE STATE MAN ABROAD.

(By Twain Mark, Te Aroha.)

The interesting contribution in th supplement of the Herald by a gentleman describing his visit to Paeroa and Te Aroha on Business of the State or any other excuse he thought good enough to be allowed in the towns must be grossly exaggerated unless he is a tax-collector or a burglar. The extraordinary way he took to get there looks suspicious. “To get to Paeroa you don’t fix your direction by compass and forge ahead. You start off stealthily in quite .'the opposite direction, then suddenly you swerve in your tracks, take it in the flank and pounce upon it (like a cat on a mouse just as it is settling down to its afternoon siesta), a most unfair thing to do, unless you are dodging the local bobby, which is allowed and provided for in Paeroa by a band of business men. The statement (not official) that no town looks its best when everyone is asleep is quite all right provided the one looking is not asleep himself. How could anyone expect Paeroa to look jolly “when the leisured class is seeking a little wellearned refreshment (and not a drop in the brewery) to carry them on till dinner time, and the toilers have stolen away to golf or whatever they use for gambling purposes in their part of the world.” (Two-up.) How people could look jolly under these circumstances takes the mustard, and makes me very angry. Business of State men are so hard to please. “There are times doubtless when Paeroa looks a very gay place. It is, however, a place where things happen. My guide told me they had a fire there last week.” (Good gracious!) Beware of guides in Paeroa; they are called by the wise men of Paeroa legpullers. They do not hesitate to set fire to anyone’s imagination or even a house, and some will even set you afire with firewater and pay for it themselves just for the sake of hearing a man doing business for the State tell someone they owe fifty quid and costs. A Fire Insurance agent told me once, but that is another story, as Kipling says. Being Scottish by upbringing it was natural and to be expected that he would pay a visit to the brewery. I can picture his disgust and disappointment (being )f Scotch upbringing xmyself on my mother’s side) in not getting a snifter. The reason is not a cross-word puzzle. “I met the brewer. I met the owner of the brewery. I saw the vat where the beer was made. I saw the barrels the beer is carried away in. But , never a drop of beer did I see. I don’t believe there was any in the brewery.” These are the only privileges that men on State business are allowed to enjoy in the Paeroa brewery. They get themselves so mixed up with guides and things. If they want a spot they are publicly told to go to Helensville for it. In any case the brewery is only there as an object lesson for school children to show them the absurdity of being compelled to live in a dry area and being called dry children by the more favoured wet children in other towns. It is hard to bear, poor little lambs. There is always a remedy in Paeroa for- a man on State business jf Scottish upbringing. Meet another Scot of any sort of upbringing and ask him what about it. It never fails. The chances are—but that is another story. “I had been told that you could not get anything to eat in Paeroa, and as I proved that you could not get anything to drink, I was prepared to believe it.” That naturally brings uppermost in a Scotchman’s mind the nearest place to find the dog that bit him, consequently a bee line was made for Te Aroha, and when the train stopped for a drink a quarter of a mile from the station “that was enough.” We got out and walked, spurred on by our furious stomachs (and throats) and so beat our fellow travellers to dinner (to what?) by over ten minutes.” There is a vast difference between Paeroa and Te Aroha. There is no brewery in Te Aroha but plenty of other things. Leisured people never go to sleep; they play bowls night and day; and the toilers do not steal away to golf or two-up—they can always be found engaged in other things. Business of State men see Te Aroha in quite a different light after dinner—good old Scotch! “Te Aroha at night is aspiring to some of the airs of a Continental spa. It is very gaily lit up, and judging by the people in the street must have a considerable population. Girls go _ about whirling their scarfs and singing gay little tunes. A wedding party drives through the street dragging a kerosene tin, and no sooner is one tin de-. tached than another takes its place (optical illusion) midst the cheers of the populace. (Hurrah!) There is even a town crier with his bell (Queensland Harry), though what it was he wanted I was unable to make out (Roll up, roll up to the circus!) owing to the muffling effects of a megaphone.” I want to say right here good and hard that I have experienced similar illusions myself. Great snakes! Once I saw—but as Kipilng says, again that is another story. I got married in Te Aroha and have a dim recollection of dragging something around and hearing girls singing and the muffling effect of my own megaphone, which I thank the Lord I am still suffering from —she will do me. Of course after all this excitement you go and have another dinner. What you do next depends on how many Scotchmen you meet and the frequency of such questions as what’s yours? Same again; water or soda? It is not unusual in Te Aroha for a business of State man to be woke up by the Boots as soon as he has just got into bed. It has been the custom for years and still prevails. It’s nothing for anyone to get alarmed about. It sometimes occurs, but is

not the custom, when you get up to knock down the trim housemaid who is bringing in the morning tea. But you can with malice aforethought tip the Boots over at sight; he expects it. This is not charged for in your account, having paid cash for the privilege the night before, the knowledge of which remains with you the greater part of next day. The usual thing to do next after you ask if the milkman has called is to take a stroll in the Domain gardens if you feel well enough. Things don’s look exactly as right as they did the night before. “The most noticeable thing you notice about the gardens is the air of neglect which prevails when once the playing greens are passed. But as the only people who go to Te Aroha are honeymoners (business of State men) trying to escape the world and bowlers with a bottle of whisky (playing all night) seeking something to mix with it between games, I suppose no one greatly cares.” Business of State men usually lose 'their identity in Te Aroha, get dazzled, then undazzled so to speak, go home, tty to collect their senses into one heap, then write and tell people all about it. Impossible!