THE FRETFUL PORCUPINE CLUB DIVERSIONS.

Observer, Volume XI, Issue 700, 28 May 1892, Page 12

THE FRETFUL PORCUPINE

CLUB DIVERSIONS.

A Quill for Everyone.

It is not a very long while ago since the whole colony was throbbing with indignation at the action of the Wellington Hunt Club in chasing a poor weakly stag, which could not even make an attempt to get away from its pursuers. Everyone voted it outrageous cruelty, and the Governor promptly cut his connection with the club* But what would he have said of gay huntsmen who, for want of better sport, hunted a poor little kitten and killed it. Impossible ! No, it is not impossible. This is what actually happened at our own doors only a few days ago. They, had nothing else to chase, so they chased a poor little kitten — a girl's pet— and killed it. Grand sport, wasn't it ? And they chased a sheep, and a stray dog, and a tame buffalo, and altogether they had a most * exhilirating day's fun.'

# # * But why has the Inspector of Cruelty to Animals been so quiet about it ? We suppose if it were a tram-horse with a sore as large as a shilling, the owners would have been before the Magistrate before now, and heavily fined. Somehow, our officials are very officious," except when the offenders belong to our privileged set, and then they escape. This is a shameful case, and we don't intend to let it rest. If it is a right and proper thing to hunt and kill kittens for sport, wherewill the end of it be? This is a case that should be investigated, and we expect that the Law will not close its eyes to it. If it does, we intend to see that for once the Law is compelled to do its duty, without fear or favour.

# # ■ # The Law is not altogether' a success in Auckland. It is too proud to lassoo stray dogs, and it lives in wholesome dread of Btreet larrikins. If it were otherwise, we would not have in the Opera House every night the scandal that exists there. The habitues of the pit now exercise such terrorism over the people in .the Btalls by their coarse and offensive cries and stinging personalities that the attendance at the Opera House is seriously affected. Every man who enters the stalls during the intervals is greeted with ribald and insulting cries at his own expense, and for very shame sensitive people dare not stir. Indeed, many will not go there while this system is permitted. # # #

It is a disgrace to the police, for it shows their utter inefficiency or inability to suppress disorder of such a flagrant kind. This has been going on for weeks, and police constables and officers 101 l lazily in the doorway and show by their expansive smiles their sympathy with and toleration of the blackguardly conduct. They appreciate and countenance it, and small wonder then that it increases. We cannot say whether Inspector Broham is aware of what goes on night after night, but if he is he must confess himself a very helpless police inspector or be would have put an end to this disgrace long ago. Things have come to a pretty pass when respectable people cannot go to a place of amusement without being shamefully insulted, and that too in the; full view and hearing of half-a-dozen or more policemen. '# * #

Travelling evangelists are too often keen men of business with one eye on the Lord and the other on the dollars. We have had ' evangelists ' without number in our midst, some of whom have been nothing more or less than arrant humbugs or prating hypoorites, while others have been

good and earnest men. The Rev. George C'.iGrribb," who has-been engaged in a laudable effort to convert the business men, thieves and other bad characters in Auckland, is, however, one of the earnest sort. There is something novel about Mr Grubb's. methods of procedure. He is an eloquent native of lovely Tipperary, and he has evidently kissed the blarney stone, /not wisely, but too well.' JBe does not come amongst us exactly like unto a pelican crying in, the wilderness, for he has with him three men and one woman, who assist at his meetings in such a manner as he may see fit. Mr Grubb opened his Auckland season in the City Hall last week, and in the course of his discourse upon original sin, the devil, reporters, and things in general, told his bearers that he didn't want any collections, neither did he charge for admission. They were free to come and go, but any donations would be thankfully received, whereupon the grateful audience responded with a . liberality that made my mouth water. It's nice to be an evangelist ! *' * *

The advantages to the community of these periodical visits of evangelists are, however, doubtful. " Of course, the regular clergyman sets his face sternly against travelling evangelists, but the reason is obvious It means interference with business and the diminution of the ordinary collections. So the objections of the resident clergy to the methods of their wandering brothers need not be given much weight. But it is very questionable whether these visits of evangelists, and 1 revivals,' and all the rest of the religious fervour worked up by travelling preachers are not to be deprecated. It is the experience of most truly pious men that these seasons of revival or soul-stirring are usually followed by periods of relapse, in which the last state of the revived one is worse than the first. The difference between true worship and sensational preaohing is almost the difference between divine service and Sunday afternoon fishing excursions.

* * * The death of the Hon. Johnny Martin, M.L.C., removes for ever one of the 'most familiar faces in Wellington. Who • has not heard of Johnny Martin ? Who that has visited the Empire City has not been shewn that well-known figure with its white waistcoat, flower in button-bole, cigar in mouth and a slight limp in the gait caused by sciatica ? He was a3 well known as his own drinking fountain in Lambton Quay, which proclaims to the world the fact that he presented it to the citizens in 1875. Mr Martin was the architect of his own fortunes. He was the son of a retired Irish clergyman and waß born in the county of Deny in 1822. At the age of 19 (his parents having been carried off by typhus), he came out to Wellington with his brothers and sisters and for some years thereafter worked hard as a carter. One night his horse fell down an unprotected' well and broke its back, and Johnny next day afforded cause of mirth to the little settlement by seeking out the owner of the well and soundly rating him in his own homely brogue because through that owner's carelessness his horse had ' fallen down his pump.' # # #

Johnny Martin Boon began to rise in the world, and although there used to be mysterious hints dropped by old identities as to the part which a certain box of gold, said to have been recovered from a wreck, might have played in this improvement of his fortunes, there is nothing definite to lift thiß story of the box of gold oat of the region of myth and fable. Idle tongues will wag, and everyone knows that the means by which rich men have made their fortunes is a fruitful source of inspiration for tough yarns.

What is really certain is that Mr Martin turned over many an honest shilling by carting . stores : and; ammunition to the. troops then engaged in operations against the Maoris up the Butt Valley, and that when those operations ceased he gathered up his capital and went to Otago, .where he joined a brother-in-law in pastoral pursuits. Then came the gold fever. The sheep run was sold to the Provincial Gov-' ernment for mining purposes, the sheep were slaughtered and retailed to the diggers at big price?,, and Johnny Martin . returned to Wellington with £13,000 in his pocket. He was a big man now. # * *

After trying his band in business for some years as an auctioneer and commission merchant, during which time he steadily added to his possessions of choice city property, he took a turn in the Wairarapa and devoted himself to the raising of sheep and the production of wool. # # #

In due time he was called to the Commissioner of the Peace, and in 1878, upon the advent of the Grey party to power, he was elevated to the Upper House. The reasons which prompted the Grey party to take this step have been a standing enigma ever since, for Johnny Martin had never distinguished himself in public affairs, and since he became a lord be has been a distinctly silent one. It is said that his longest speech in the Council consisted of the weighty sentence : ' I beg, sir,to second the motion. 1 However, he was always to be seen in his place on Bitting days perched up on one of the back benches cheek by jowl with the Hon. Pat Dijuam, the two old gentlemen looking for all the world like a pair of solemn owls. Johnny, too, was ever to the fore when the division bell rang, and the story used to prevail that the best way to capture his vote upon other than party questions was to ask him to cast it on the side opposite to that for which you were really seeking it.

# # # He served also upon Committees, and in this connection a good yarn is told by one of the committee reporters. One day a great many witnesses had been examined on some subject or other, and a verbatim report was prepared. Johnny Martin's name figured in it for just three words— ' And doctors too,' which was hie addition to some statement or other made by one of the witnesses. After that report had been tabled, Johnny met the reporter about the Buildings, and complimented him upon the fidelity of his note. ' Shorthand,' he said, 'is really a wonderful thing; I see you managed to get down every word I said. Oh its a grand thing entirely.' # • # .#

Many are the storieß that have passed current as to his personal peculiarities. Here is one of them which refers to a little joke that Sir George Grey • put up ' on Mr Martin some years ago. Anybody who has ever visited Wellington will remember that Johnny, with his invariably spotless white waistcoat and the flower on thejapel of his coat, was one of the perennial sights of Lambton Quay. But Johnoy was not an educated man, and didn't pretend to be; consequently he was as innocent of knowledge of the names of his floral decorations as any child, could have been. Well, our Old Man Eloquent, meeting his legislative friend on the Quay one day, opened conversation with his customary greeting of ' Good -morning, Martin ; how do ,you do, Martin?' 'By the way, Martin,' proceeded the ex-Premier, with a merry twinkle in his eye, ' I notice that you've got diosnia to-day. 'Beg pardon, Sir George,' returned the venerable councillor, not recognising the botanical name .

of. the sweet-smelling flower that he was wearing. : But Johnny thought .'• himself , too cute to betray his ignorance, so jumped to a conclusion as to what the wily knight meant. 'You're quite right, Sir George,'' said he, hastening to pickup the conversation, and tapping his chest suggestively, • I don't feel particularly well to-day. 1 Of course the bystanders roared, but Johnny was quite: satisfied with himself at having v avoided being tripped up by ' one of them darned medical names.'

-. • • * # - [- Another very good yarn dates from no further back than last; session. An American legislator was on a visit to Wellington, and was being shown round the Parliamentary Buildings by the Hon. P. A. Buckley, the jovial Colonial Secretary. The Hon. Pat loves his joke as well as most of his countrymen. Coming across his friend Johnny in one of the lobbies in conversation with Our Only General, he duly introduced the pair to his Yankee friend as ' two of the moat iemakable men in our country, sir,— heroes of the Maori war, sir— General Whitmore and General Martin.' But the visitor smelt a rat. He wasn't to be caught so easily. ' Come now,' he said to his cicerone, as soon as they had turned away, ' you can't stuff me like that. I can see that the old gentleman (indicating Johnny) is a military man, but I'm darned if you can make me believe that the little dark fellow (Whitmore) ever smelt powder in his life. Own up, now, ain't I right V Of course the Ministry then acknowledged the truth. The story soon got wind, and Johnny Martin was ever afterwards proud of his ' martial bearing,' while Sir Jarge Whitmore hasn't yet got over the slight to his military prestige. # # #

Three months ago Mr 3 Martin died, and a recent thorough overhaul and renovation of the residence in Ghuznee- street has doubtless given rise to the rumour which was current some short time ago that the widower intended to marry again. Quite recently, he visited the Hot Springs; and Auckland in company with Mr Tringham (architect), and his son (Dr. Albert Martin) thinks he took rather too much of the baths, thus, rendering his system susceptible to cold. On the Wednesday before his death he took a ohill returning from the club, and pneumonia supervened, which told severely on the heart's action, and carried off the patient on Tuesday last week. # # #

The Hon. John Martin leaves six sons and four daughters, all grown up, and the daughters all married. One of his sons is Mr E. M. Martin, commission merchant, of Auckland. They should all be well provided for, as the old gentleman leaves considerable property. ## . #

The phenomenal cuteness of oar colonial youth has just been exemplified in a rather amußing and certainly unexpected manner. It is probably pretty generally known that a number of the convicts from Mount Eden Gaol, who are stationed at Fort Gautley, in charge of their warders, and a portion of New Zealand's standing army, are daily taken over to the Bastion Fort, near the Kohimarama Training School, to exercise their spades and shovels on the fortifications. The boys from the training stehool are regularly drilled in the fort by a Permanent Artillery man, and it is asserted that they turn their sojourn in the Bastion to profitable account by actually ' going through ' the broad-arrowed garments of the poor prisoners and stealing any little belongings which the unfortunate convicts may have happened to stow away. Talk of juvenile crime after' that ! A boy that can pick a convict's pockets mußt surely be a genius in his way 1 What would not some of the London street-thieves give for such apt apprentices ? No wonder the luckless gaol-birds complain that they are in bad company, and they are probably becoming scandalised through contact with the young idea that needs no instruction in the art of «pickm' and steaiinV Where are our boys going to ?

The Pastoralists' Union is, says the Bulletin, advertising for < blackleg ' shearers in Maoriland. Tory organs assure the Pastoralists' recruits that they need not apprehend any disturbance this year. , If this should induce m<m to oome, and there should be disturbances, what measure of responsibility for harmful results will rest on the shoulders of the associated squatters ?