Mixed Pickles

Observer, Volume 9, Issue 521, 15 December 1888, Page 9

Mixed Pickles

4» . . Items suitable for insertion under this head are ■ invited from readers in town or county. All offerings must ' be authenticated, by the real name and address of lhe writer arid should reach us noC later than 0 a.m. on Tuesday.

—The attendance at Potter's Paddock on ; Monday — variously estimated at from a thousand to fifteen hundred — must be considered very good for a busy day. But if the gentle reader imagines all thoße people went to see baseball played, that is where the gentle reader makes the mistake. The real magnet was the promised ascension of Professor Bartholomew in his fire balloon, and his 4,000 feet ' leap from the clouds.' We Aucklanders have never seen anyone leap from the cloud 3 yet, and so the thing had the charm cf novelty. Then again there was always the chance that the balloon might collapse or the parachute refuse to open, and then— exit Bartholomew. There is a fine opportunity to chip in here with half a column of moralising, to compare our nineteenth century civilisation with that of the buried ages, and to ask : la civilisation a failure ? But we will leave all that kind of thing to our contemporaries and the parsons, and push on. The baseball excited little attention. After . the first half-hour, tho people began to yawn and to consult their watches. All the interest was ' evidently centred in the balloon ascent. Professor Bartholomew is not distinguished looking In his greasy blue cap and soiled clothes he looked uncommonly like a fireman off a coasting steamer. You would never have known that ho was a ' professor ' at all if you hadn't been told. The moment this celebrated man commenced to overhaul his balloon the crowd flocked round him, leaving the baseball to take care of itself, and when he announced thatthere was to be no ascent a perfect howl of disappointment went round. The public, having paid its money to see a man leap 4,000 feet and possibly get killed, didn't half like being put off. On the whole, though, they - took it very well, and began to exchange goodnatured chaff with the ' Professor,' who lost no time in packing up and making himself scarce. He said the weather was unfavourable for the ascent. A large number of people assembled on Mount Eden and Mount Smart in the hope of seeing the: show on the deadhead plan. These unfortunates shivered for a couple of hours in a chill breeze, and didn't realise that there was to be no ascent until long after it had been announced on the ground. The way of the deadhead is hard. — Waipawa has got an exhibition, aud Waipawa is consequently as proud as a dog with a tin tail. The opening ceremony is said to have been ' very impressive.' So we should think. Four bands and 1,000 school children were present, to say nothing of mayors, chairmen of local bodies, capiingsand councillors, and big bugs galore. And when the four band 3 struck tip ' Gawd Save the Queen,' in four different keys, and tho 1,000 school children chipped in and took part in the concert, the effect was tremendous. One brass band is as much as most people hanker after, but one multiplied by four — ! Happily no lives were lost. Over 3,000 teople paid for admission, and the Waipawa exhibtion is whooping along as merrily as a circus run on the deadhead system. Seems" to us that Auckland has been napping lately, or ifc never would have allowed Dunedin to jump its claim in the reprehensible manner known to the reader. ■""" A. BESTAURANT BELLE She attends on me oft In a certain cafe. And her glance so soft Her affections betray. No fine raiment has she And no gems to bedeck ; But sha beams upon me As she brings me my check; She is pretty and pert ; But I'm sorely afraid With the diners to flirt Is part of her trade. I'll not yield to her wiles Nor repine for her sake, For the 9weeter her smiles The more callous her steak. 'Blo.' — The saurian monster would appear to have as many livea as a cat. It has been repeatedly killed and stuffed for exhibition, but it Jieveriheless manifests a tendency to bob up aerenly from time to time, on the smallest provocation. This time it is reported to have been seen in the Eangitata River, Canterbury, having evidently escaped from the parties who had it on view in Auckland, about a year ago. During that time it will be remembered, a kerosene lamp smashed on its neck and burnt its head off, while the men who ran tho show were at tea. This didn't make much difference. A day or two later they had fixed a new head on it, and it re- • covered all its old health and spirits. Doubtless it has taken advantage of its custodians' absence to again distinguish itself. This time it must have got away altogether. Anyway it is in the Eangitata, and a Mr Jackson, writing to a Timaru paper, says • "the noise it makes every evening^ is appalling.' We believe there is no foundation for the rumour that the saurian monster and ' Jack the Ripper ' are identical. — ' Why are we like angels visits T said a pretty girl on a sofa to her bashful lover, who was sitting lonesomely on a chair at the other end of tho room. 'Really,' he stammered anS blushed, ' I must give it up. Why are we ?' ' Because,* she said, significantly, ' we are few and far between.' He destroyed the similarity almost instantly. ,; . TWEEDLEDUM AND TWJEEDI/EDEE. . If a young lady should marry for love ' Her friends all immediately say," '* Wo cannot but pity tho innocent dove. Poor thing J she is quite thrown away !' "But sHould 'she mate with some ugly old man, ... If mtfr bright gold he is mettled, ■ :. Tfaeyispread'thiß gopdnevye wherever they can :-. VThail" she'j^mbat^comfortably, settled ! '. •'-"■ ; iisNffv\K^*"^<^—'J.-^*\Vi. i '""-'CV.v:,'- : :*" J ■'.'•■'., ■.','' '.'■■ . ■"•■',

The black cloud' of depression which has so long lowered over this fair colony, shutting out the sunshine of hope and driving, men to despair - we have borrowed this style from an American ' paper-; how- do youlike.it ?-hida fair^to rise soon now, nay it as rising. - New Zealand a boom _ cannot be long delayed, in spite of the long faces and solemn headshakes 6f the croakers who tell you that the country is going to tho devil, .sir, and nothing can poe 3 ibly save it. Don t believe that rot. Look about you, use your brains, and think for yourselves. There have not been such eager enquiries for land for settlement for years as now, and while the drought in New South Wales is half ruininsc some of the unfortunate farmers there, it is sending up New Zealand ■ produce every day, and i£ it lasts much longer our corn, maize, oats, and potatoes will' be fetching famine prices. 'Xia an ill wind, etc., New South Wales' misfortune is our gain. . Then again, as soon as the Melbourne Exhibition closes (on the 31st January) the colony will be over-run with tourists who, having ' done ' Australia, will be intent on v doing ' New Zealand. They will got loose a lot of capital and advertise the colony for us when they get home. Lastly, speculators who will not put another penny into Melbourne property arc turning their thoughts New Zealand wards . VV hat have we got to cry about ? It is the Melbourne people who ouffht to do all the crying-. Their boom has gene. Out's ia coming, and every clay brings it. nearer. HE DANCED AT HER WEDDING. I danced at her wedding last night, And none could have guessed my emotion As I saw her a bride— her on whom I have lavished a lifetime's devotion. I danced at her wedding. Why not ? Having lived through the seeue at the altar, When the knot was tied fast for all time. Do you think that my courage would falter ? I danced with as lightsome a step, With a face as unmoved as the next one ; He must be a fatuous fool Who in cries like this could expect one, Though a tumult was racing within, To betray to oulookers his passion ; I don't wear my heart on my sleeve— That sort of thing isn't the fashion. I danced — so did she. Though I'll swear, ] For a fact, that I hardly know whether I stood on my heels or my head When we went wildly whirling together. When her breath was as sweet on my cheek As the blossoms of orange she carried. We danced till folks said 'twas bad tasto, Sir.cc I was the fellow she married ! — An extraordinary divorce case came before the Edinburgh Court of Session recently. The wife, as usual, preferred someone else to the man she had sworn to love, honour, and obey, but, strange to relate, that someone else did not belong to the masculine persuasion. It was a woman, the aunt of the respondent ' Husband j and wife were married in ISBI, and lived happily together until the aunt arrived on the scene. I Then the wife transferred all her affection to this female relative. She walked with her aunt; dined I with her aunt, and slept with her aunt. All the neglected husband was privileged to do was to foot the bills. At length he told his wife she must choose between him and her aunt, and she chose the aunt. The Divorce Court severed the knot. A Waikato correspondent writes, complaining o£ what ha terms ' the pulpit beggar,' and ny way of pointing his moral and adorning his tale, he relates the following little yarn -.—The Service of Song had ended, and the Key. Dry Bones remarked that the affair had been very good, but that they ought then to deal with something far more important, viz., the collection. The plate was passed around, the Hey. gentleman appealing to those present to contribute liberally. The result did not satisfy him. In indignant tones he pointed out that the collection was not in keeping .with the merits of the entertainment, which had deserved better of thorn. He said he felt very strongly inclined to repeat a former experiment and send the plate around again. He wound up by narrating what he termed 'an amusing parallel ' : A parson once observed to his churchwarden that he was much pleased with tho devout demeanour and regular attendance at church of a certain lady member of his flock. ' Oeh thin,' replied the churchwarden, ' she s a bog.' ' A what ?' demanded the astonished parson.' ' A bog — she takes all she can get, and eive3 nothing in return.' ' I hope,' concluded the Eev. Dry Bone 3, when the tittering had died away, ' that we have no boss here to-night.' Our correspondent seems to think that in some cases, at all events, the parsons might be described as ' bogs.' —The Broken Hill Argus is no more. The last issue appeared on Nov. 20, and the deep mourning borders down the columns at first suggested that some ' esteemed fellow-citizen ' of tho Silver City owning a long purse, had winged Ms upward flight for the better land and taat theArrjv.s people, with a view to ingratiating themselves with bia heirs and assigns, had taken this forcible way of expressing the grief that consumed them. We have known such cases before. But no. it , I was the Argus mourning for itself, lhe leader is ' touching enough to draw tears from the eyes of a graven image or a relieving officer. The Argus ' died hard. Just before it yielded up the ghost it raised itself on its elbow and sobbed:— • Jo-, morrow but the dying echoes of our parting salute will be heard, but let the word vale carry with it the. remembrance of the principles we hare endeavoured to instil.' courtship's hours. ' Say it again and say it slow, Whisper it darling, soft and low ; Let me, sweetest, oh, let me hear ) The word that you spoke, " I love you dear. Again she -whispered it soft and low , Again she said it and said it slow, # To catch the words he strained his ear And the sound that followed was strange and queer ; , , , . 'Twas a sound — like — like — lets a sce—oii, pshaw! Like that you make when a cork you draw. — From the German : — Mamma and baby have stepped out on to the terrace to see whether cook, has forgotten to give the cat its dinner. They find pussy engaged m cleaning up its plate, in which operation it is assisted by an immense tom-cat. f ' Wherever can that. creature have coma from P inquires mamma, and baby makes answer : j ' Why that's pussy's policeman!' — Big gooseberries at Blenheim. - The season is now on. . TOhe Express tells of two that would, make a> pie. The 'size of the pie is not atatacl. ,-'"■ ■■- ■■■" '■■ •■ '' *" •_--.. ■■ ?.' ■. ■ ■_..'"'

—Mr Eyticb, >gent for Spal^in^s ;ball.Team, professes to be completely '"one ' on the colonies, arid New ; Zealand in particular. . In the course of a conversation in thiV office a few days back, he said : Say J how the boys will look when tliey sco Auckland. They have no idea what a pretty spot they are coming- to But I guess the people want wakening up somewhat • they seem to lack the proper business "> " go " in them, so noticeable on our side of the water. And what a magnificent sheet of -water the Waitemata is ! Why, I tell you for a positive fact " that people in the States have no idea of the many industries that might be worked here with success. Just you wait awhile until I get back, and I guess I'll surprise somebody. Say, if our baseball boys could only havo seen the Melbourne Cup, I reckon Mr Spalding would have got very few to return with him. I wrote home and told my people that there must . have been 150,000 people to see the Cup— and such a well-behaved crowd, too.' From which it will be perceived that the jaynial Lynch i 3 not altogether unacquainted with the art of '. buttering 1 up.' Baldwin, the ' exposor ' of spiritualism, is an adept at this kind of thing. 'Every time he strikes a new place he says it is ' the prettiest ho has seen, and that he intends to return and end. his clays there.' — Hotel somnambulism is the latest thing, A man stops at an hotol until the glare in the boss's eye warns him that things are getting sultry, Ihen one evening he somnambulises. An Adelaide landlord met one of his boarders recently on the stairs, making for the door. The somnambulist carried hig carpot bag in his hand and a sheaf of umbrellas from the upper floor on his arm. The landlord lost no time in awakening him. After being yelled at for five minutes the departing boarder rubbed his eyes, and in bewildered accents inquired, ' Where am I ? Am I not in bed ?' ' Not by a jugful, you're not,' said the landlord. ' I have been asleep,' said the deadhead, with the ghosb of a blush. ' P'rapg you have/ said the landlord, ' but you can bet the amount of your unpaid bill thai I am pretty wideawake. Packed that there bag and walked off them thero umbrellas while you wag asleep, too, I suppose ?' The deadbeat begged so hard for mercy that he was allowed to ante up the amount of his little bill and get. —She : ' What would lovey-dovey do if pigy were to die ?' He : ' Lovey would die, too.' She : ' Does 'oo love 'oor own itty darling ?' He : ' JEs, I des I docs.' She : ' Will it det its owne^t own . a new bonnet ?' He: 'Go to the devil!' — The boom booms no more in Melbourne, and the festive speculator who has for so longraked in the shekels by the bagful, rakes them in no longer. In some cases he has retired to enjoy the fruits of his pnterprise, ' a made man ' ; in others he has lo3t his all, and is despondent and limp. 'Twas ever thus. Gambling is a fascinating amusement, bat we cannot all be winners. The worst of it is that the world has no sympathy for an unsuccessful man, and so while the prizeholders will be flattered and courted, and referred to as ' our eminent fellow citizen ' in the papers, the poor devils who have drawn blanks will get the cold shoulder and the kick oat, and await the arrival of another boom to regain lost ground and the esteem of their fellows, but some of the sums realised during the departed boom are enough to make one's mouth water. Munro and Baillien, a firm of Melbourne auctioneers, have made i£300,000 in commission .this year; they spend ,£3OOO per month in advertising 1 . Two men, one an accountant, the other a bank clerk, started in business two years and a half ago, and are nowworth .£IOO,OOO. — How it began : ' Dear Mr Jones, my dear Goorge, my darling George, my own darling Georgie.' How it ended : 'My darling George, dear Geoi-ge, dear sir, sir.' ( Then she sued him for damages. ) — ' Stamboul still boasts a slave market. But it is for girls of European birth. The lascivious Turk is insatiablo in his lust.' Thus a contemporary. But does Stamboul possess the only slave market ? How about our own drawingrooms — are not our own white slaves put up to auction every day and knocked down to the highest bidder, no matter whether that -bidder ia blind, deaf, paralytic, or worse — a scoundrel without as much principle as would stand on the head of a pin ? — Lady Kandolpb. Churchill's uncle, Mr Jerome, who has just died, was a great joker. One lime, while on a yachting tour, he managed to procure a few sheets of the Queen's stationery, and wrote out an invitation to himself for a dinner at Osborne. That night at dinner his servant brought in a big envelope stamped, apparently, with the Royal seal and crest. He nonchalantly out open the package and said : ' Well, this is getting to be a bore.' ' What is it ?' waa asked. 'Oh ! only an invitation from the Queen to dine with Her Majesty at Osborne. 1 That ia how he managed to paralyse people with envy. — * Why should Igo about ?' Toole is reported to have asked a society lady. ' Because everybody wants to meet you,' was the reply. ' If you would only give us a charce we should be Jblighted to lionize you.' ' Oh, well, returned the comedian, ' it's much batter as it ia ; T neyec knew of but one man who was not spoiled by being lionized.' 'Who was that?' she asked. 'The prophet Daniel, '