PARS ABOUT PEOPLE

Observer, Volume XXIII, Issue 3, 4 October 1902, Page 4

PARS ABOUT PEOPLE

JAMES CLARE, who died the other day, was known to the ; present generation of Aucklanders as a quiet, thoughtful, good - hearted individual, whose business in life was to lend out boats to pleasure-seekers in the summer season at St. Mary's Bay, Ponsonby. But the generation who were boys in the sixties knew James Clare as the champion Bculler of Auckland, the idol of those who loved athletics, and a noted builder of skiffs and pleasure boats. His shed in those days was at the foot of Hobson-street, on the beach frontage, where the shipbuilding yards were also situated, and was a popular resort for the enthusiasts in aquatic sports. Talking of Clare's shed reminds us that adjacent to it was the solid rock baths, so called because they were formed by a basin cut out of sandstone. The baths were kept by a remarkable character called Duffy, who, when business was dull, was accustomed to make a round of the beaches, armed with a formidable whip, and woe betide the unfortunate boys whom he caught bathing in the open. In this way, he kept down the practice of bathing on the beaches, and boomed the business at his own baths. Everybody knows that the Right Honourable Richard Seddon is a " firstclass fighting man," but it will be news to some that but for a prize fight the Premier might have remained in obscurity. We gather all about this momentous affair from the Detroit News Tribune, a copy of which was picked up by Mr "Teddy" Reynolds on his way home through the States last month. The paper devotes half a page to a profusely illustrated article on Mr Seddon. The heading, in large type, is: — "By a Prize Fight This Bold Man Became the Leader of a <Jreat People," and there are pictures shoving the Bold Man, as a boy, running away from home, and afterterwarda, when grown up, receiving the Prince and Princess of Wales. But the place of honour is given to a literally striking picture, in which Richard is shown administering the knock-out blow to a famous West Coast champion of the name of O'Doolan. ••••••••• This is supposed to have happened when Mr Seddon was about twenty years of age, and the gifted biographer relates that the public joy at the defeat of the O'Doolan terror was so great that young Seddon was almost overwhelmed with favours. " Cultured gentlemen who had strayed into the settlement (Kumara) gave their time over to his education. Miners put him onto 'good things.' Some gave a push here, others a hand there, and the foundry boy got along famously." He became the most popular member of the community, and hiss subsequent career was determined. It is a good story, and deserves to be true whether it is or not. The two fifteen-year-old lads, James Sargent and Arthur Ruddle, who have owned up to some twenty-one charges of arson, or attempted arson, were the most unconcerned persons in the ■Court when bi ought up on Monday. They are not of the same type, Sargent Ijeing tall and thin, with light, wispy hair and very prominent teeth, while Ruddle is short and stocky, with plenty of dark, straight locks and heavy features. They were alike in the expression of the eyes, which are of the fearless sort, and neither appeared to realise that the case against them is of a serious character. Very genuine sympathy is felt for the parents, who are respectable people who have tried to start the lads on an honest career, and who are shocked and stricken by the strange development in their character.

Peter Mackie, who left for Wellington on Monday to take a responsible position in the lithographic business of McKee and Gamble, is a man of many parts. As footballer, cricketer, amateur actor and Druid, he has played a worthy and prominent part in local life, and now, entering into a new sphere, carries away with him the good wishes of scores of friends whom he has made in Auckland. Mr Mackie has been from boyhood in the Herald office, and leaves it with the reputation of being one of the best lithographers in the colony. In his time, Peter was partial to dancing, and was the life and soul of many a suburban social. Apropos, a remarkable episode once occurred in St. George's Hall, which nearly ended his life, and which, at the same time, blunted his liking for such functions. It^was at a fancy dress ball, and, in the interval of one of the dances, someone lent him a harmless-looking revolver. Peter thoughtlessly blew down the muzzle, never dreaming that the weapon was loaded, when it suddenly exploded and took t he tip off his nose. Surely a narrow enough escape for any man. ••• •••••. The present Czar of Russia is very unlike his brother Emperor next door, for whereas the latter is never so happy as when posturing before a camera, the Czar has a perfect horror of being photographed, and to snapshot His Majesty is to earn his fiercest displeasure. This Czar, like most Czars, is a nervous man, and no doubt the levelled camera is too like an infernal machine to please His Majesty. A camera on its tripod suggests a new kind of Gatling gun, and when the fiend says : " Now, look pleasant, Your Majesty," the idea of being

requested to smile benignly at a machine that may presently shoot a young nitro- glycerine bomb at his head sends a cold shiver down the Imperial spine, and the resulting picture makes the Little Father of all the Russias look as if he wanted to crawl under the bed.

Particulars of the drowning of Mr Arthur Warbrick at the Ohiwa ferry show that he lost his life in a most courageous attempt to perform his duty. A heavy gale was blowing, but he managed to take the mailman over and land him safely, when the boat in which the mailman's saddle, etc., still were, got adrift. Warbrick stripped and started to swim after the boat, when he was seized with cramp and went down. What adds pathos to the melancholy incident is the circumstance that Mrs Warbrick was an eyewitness, saw her husband sink, and was the first to give the alarm. The Key. H. D. A. Major, the retiring vicar of St. Peter's, Hamilton, let fly a Parthian shot in his last sermon. During the past year the relations between the parson and the parties in the congregation, and between the parties themselves, have been of the most militant character, and sides have been changed and loyalty snapped as frequently as in the Thirty Years' War. The spectacle was one calculated to make the heathen person chuckle, and the position soon became intolerable. The vicar was independent of his stipend, and could therefore afford to be independent in other respects. ••• •#• .*. In his farewell remarks, after dealing with the questions more particularly affecting the Church, Mr Major had a tilt at that most conspicuous and most evil of all small-town characteristics — social snobbery. Unfortunately, in such cases, the people aimed at are precisely those who are sublimely unconscious of practising the amiable art of snobbishness. Mr Major, who, by the way, is married to the eldest daughter of Mr C. C. McMillan, of Auckland, intends to visit the Old Country and extend his studies there. He is still quite young. Paul Kruger outdid Solomon in one of his little equity cases that used to be heard daily from the verandah of his residence while he sat in his spacious chair and smoked the Boer pipe. Two brothers had a farm and worked in amity for a time, but differences arose, and they decided to subdivide land and stock. This was done, but sheep and cattle strayed, as they always will in such cases, on the other man's land. Being brothers, the neighbours were more bitter than usual ; sheep were killed, cattle maimed, etc., and before guns were used, they agreed to go to Uncle Paul and ask his advice. Kruger listened to their several tales and then passed judgment. To the first, he said: "Morgan, you are the elder; you divide the property into two shares and then give your brother first pick." You can bet your bottom dollar those shares were equal to a dot.

The appointment of Mr Nepean Kenny, the pleasant gentleman who runs the Ohinemuri county business, to the command of the Third Battalion, with the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel, will be gratifying to many others who have Berved their country, as well as to himself. Mr Kenny saw a good deal of service as a sub-inspector in the Armed Constabulary. Mrs Kenny is a sister of Mr George Edgecumbe, of Hamilton. ••• ••• ••• Mr J. S. Bond, who retired from the proprietorship of the Waikato Times this week, originally went to Waikato about twenty-two years ago, with the famed Joe Ivess, and was a member of the composing staff of the Cambridge News. After the untimely decease of that paper, Mr Bond set up in business as job printer in the same township, subsequently adding to it that of stationer and bookseller, and did a thriving trade. He became a conspicuous figure in local and general politics, and was thrice Mayor of the Borough. In 1896 he purchased the Waikato Times, and removed to Hamilton, where he has also taken part in public affairs, and has filled the post of coroner. One of Mr Barnes' bill-stickers did a smart bit of work in one of the suburbs on Monday. Noticing that a wedding was proceeding at a certain church, he dexterously applied a poster of the " Chinese Honeymoon " on each of the waiting carriages, and when the wedding party afterwards drove off they roused the enthusiasm of the whole juvenile population. But imagine the feelings of the bridal party when they subsequently discovered the advertising uses to which they had been put. ••••••••• The appointment of a new doctor for Huntly reminds us of the kaleidoscopic changes in the medical profession in country places. During the last five years, for instance, there have been no less than seven doctors practising in Cambridge, only one of whom now remains, Dr Roberts, formerly of the North Shore. Dr Roberts made the move for his health's sake, and is now another man. He is most conspicuous as a patron of all kinds of rational spoit.

Mr Romeo Bragato, the Government viticulture) expert, who is now getting himselt settled in a well -equipped laboratory in Albert Buildings, is just forty year's of age, and came out to the colonies about fourteen years ago. He is a native of Istria, one of the Adriatic provinces of the Austrian Empire, and had a thoroughly scientific training for his profession. Wlfen he landed in Melbourne, he could not speak a single word of English, but few who have come into contact with his agreeable personality would believe this. He has become a veritable Anglo-Saxon, and talks idiomatic English in a way that must make some Britishers envious. ••• ■•• ••• . Martyn Hagan, talking of his " out back" experiences, says: "When 1 was up at Boggabri I asked the landlord (who is an Irishman) of the hotel there if there were many snakes about. " Lots of 'em," was the answer. " They do be brought in the firewood, and I often see 'em creepin' about the yard ?" "And then you kill them?" inquired the actor. " Kill 'em, sor ! Me kill 'em ? Not me, sor !" " But you don't let them go, surely?" "No, no; I just calls Bridget, the old woman, and she kills 'em. Oh, Bridget is a handy woman wid a shtick, so she is, and it's me and the boys and the snakes that knows it, be jahers !" In his " pen portraits " of members of the House, Mr Hornsby mentions a circumstance that will create some amused astonishment at the present time. It illustrates the condition of political liberty in England in the days of our grandfathers : — " On August sth, 1839, John Collins, the grandfather of Mr W. W. Collins, M.H.R. for Christchurch, was arraigned before Judge Littleilale, charged with the political offence of having issued a manifesto claiming the right of public meeting and free speech. One of the counts of the indictment was supported l>y evidence called to prove that Collins had actually read a newspaper to the men who assembled to hear what was going on in their own country !" But our own Dick Seddon stops little short of making this offence. Certainly, he does not concede liberty of opinion.

Dear Observer, — Your reference in last week's Observer to the late Detective Doolan reminds me of a couple of good stories relating to the same sagacious officer. Doolan once arrested an alleged horse - thief at Rotorua, and proceeded to bring him to Cambridge. When they were passing the Paeroa station of the A. A. Co., the prisoner offered to bet the detective a pound that his horse (the stolen animal) would jump the wire fence. Doolan took him up, and the captive won. But he didn't pause to claim the wager, and, Doolan being unable to negotiate the fence, from that day to this the police never got sight of the man. Some time afterwards Doolan, who was stationed at Ngaruawahia, got word that two boys, aged about ten, had escaped from the Industrial School at Kohimarama. He mounted his horse (the same used afterwards by Tuhi) and rode as far as Rangiriri. From the top of a hill he descried the two wretched urchins appoaching, whereupon he concealed himself in the ti-tree. When the youngsters reached the spot, Doolan, with a revolver in each hand, jumped out and cried, "bail up, you villains" (only " villains " wasn't the word). lam not quite sure, but I believe the boys got away. They deserved to, at all events. —Yours, A.C. An American doctor says that there is nothing to prevent people living for a hundred, or even a hundred and twenty years, provided that they start physically sound, be light eaters and drinkers, slow to wrath, able to control their passions and emotions, and lead placid, uneventful lives. It sounds simple enough, but would the game be worth the candle ? Reporters believe that all public exhibitions are more or less "fakes." Melbourne Punch relates that a pressman called upon Sandow the other day, and after a short interview, knowingly remarked that of course there was a good deal of " fake " about the show. " Fake ? How?" asked the Strong Man. " Well, the weights, you know — they are not so heavy as they*are labelled," said the reporter. Sandow pointed to one weighing over a hundred pounds. The reporter had with difficulty up-ended it, when Sandow seized it and the reporter and held both aloft for a moment. Then he dropped the weight and held the reporter up at arm's length, tossed him

up to the ceiling, caught him as he fell, and tossed him up again and again. When lie set the bewildered scribe upon his feet again, the latter grabbed his note-book, and gasping out, " I'm satisfied— there's no fake about it," beat a hasty retreat. ••• —• .«. Trooper writes :— A certain New Zealand regiment was at one time camped near Vereeniging, on the Transvaal border, when an incident occurred showing up to advantage the efficiency of the medical department, and of one well-known pill in particular, served out for almost all ailments from a cold to a broken leg. A doctor, who hails not far from Auckland, was seated in his tent, when a Kaffir rushed up in a great state of excitement and tried to explain that he had upset his water-cart and wanted assistance. The doctor looked at him, turned round to his medicine-chest, and gave him a famous No. 9 pill, remarking) " All right, my man ; you'll do very well now, footsac " (run along). Any trooper will tell you about a No. 9, but I don't think we ever realised the power of them before. Pigeon English is hard to understand, too. •«• -. +. There is a surveyor in the King Country who actually got the better of a Maori in the trade the other day. He was buying a pig which the native declared weighed 200lbs, but he showed the seller by means of the theodolite that the animal only scaled 90lbs. And he got the pig at that weight. One of the tenets of the Students of Truth as enunciated by the notorious VVorthington is a belief in the transmigration of souls, and when in Christchurch it was currently reported that he recognised in two hard-headed men of business the subsequent embodiments of Moses and the Prophet Elisha, while he himself claimed to have recollections that in a former state of existence he was a woman with a family of eleven children. In Melbourne he succeeded in recognising in Madame De la Juveney the Egyptian goddess Isis, while he claimed to be her colleague Osiris, and in travelling on the trams of the city Osiris would entrance the fair Isis with stories as to the careers in a previous state of their fellow passengers and pedestrians on the footpaths. Now, Osiris hints that all sorts of calamities will befall Isis as a revenge of the Occult for being the means of causing the prophet so much trouble, worry and anxiety, with possibly a season iv gaol.