PARS ABOUT PEOPLE

Observer, Volume XXVII, Issue 45, 27 July 1907, Page 4

PARS ABOUT PEOPLE

HO\t is it that the daily papers allowed the departure of P. A. Vaile to go unrecorded ? This is the eort of-event which shakes the Empire to its foundation. It would have been only decency on the Star's part to make known the sad news in a special black-edged column, seeing that that highly intelligent paper is so fond of publishing P. A.'s egotistical effusions. The fact remains, however, that the great and only PJ A.. Vaile has sailed for London in the Gothic. This is all right for the Gothic, but where does Auckland come in? With the building of the town ball and the cemetery bridge in prospect, it is absolutely necessary that we should have expert advice on the spot, and George George can hardly be expected to do all the work by himself. Presumably, P. A. has gone to otter advice to Joe Chamberlain on kow to keep fit. This is a bright look-out for Joe.

Few New Zealanders can point to a life of more strenuous wandering than Frank Warren. Frank last left Auckland, home and beauty in 1902 bound for death or glory with the 10th Contingent. But prior to that he had meandered muchly. He inserted lumps of lead into can- . tankerous niggers during the -Fhillipine war, and he smiled upon the giddy geishas in jovial Japan. He faced the furious fogs in living London, and he tramped in tramp steamers o'er the bounding mam. Ultimately he returned to the city of his birth in 1901, but the wandering fever gripped him again and he became a gentleman in khaki. It wa= after the war was over that an enterprising Yank came along and en saged 200 Britishers, 200 Boers, and a choice lot of Kaffirs, Basutos and other coloured gentlemen to proceed to the Chicago Exhibition and take part in the spectacular war game, " Briton and Boer." * * * Frank was one of the Britishers who for eight months reproduced the battles of Colenso and Paardeburg on a small scale for the benefit of amusement-seekers at the exhibition. Pat Sutherland, the Graf tor. full-rback, was another khaki-clad individual who used to pulverise the flying Boers with his deadly blank cartridges. And there was another Aucklander in the combination by the name of Bray, who is now the proud possessor of a flourishing local ■express business. After the exhibition closed, the company toured the. States, ultimately bringing up in..New Orleans. Here they were ■engaged as a job lot by a fiery creature, who desired to start a nice little revolution in Venezuela, but "Uncle Sam unkindly stepped in just when things were going to get exciting and at Venezuela the company disbanded. Thence Frank strayed up to Bejeze, in the Panama Isthmus. Hera Yeillov Jack very kindly grabbed him •arid' proceeded to treat him in a most ungentlemanly manner. However, nothing short of a football defea* will kill a New Zealander. Accordingly, Frank rid himself of his unwelcome guest and managed to push his way to New York. Here he shipped on a tramp steamer, and, in the iulness of time, was cast up in Dmned«v where he was again gripped hy malaria and consigned to the hospital. ■ This being the first case of malaria which the, uncivilised medical students of Dunedin had ever seen, they hailed the subject as Godsend. But the said subject did nortijreQiprpcate the sentiment, as he was. promptly experimented upon in th^' interests of science. It says mii^i lpr ; his constitution that, after thi's,7ie was able to reach Auckland undamaged.

Tourist Department Donne gets some funny letters sometimes. Recently, he sent some New Zealand scenery photos to a Yankee friend, and, in reply, the Yank indulges in a poetic rhapsody thusly concerning an American waterfall as contrasted with a paltry New Zealand one : —

" Here we have a river, roaring over a precipice, thundering into a rock basin, tumbling over the rim, plunging down, down, until it floats out of a fleecy cloud ; again falling like the Devil and his hosts into an abyss of adamant— discharged like a salvo of artillery into space once more until the mighty cataract pours its tremendous volume into the chasm it has hewn for itself at the foot of the nineteen hundred foot precipice over which it has leaped like the Mameluke with a shou^ of triumph at his enemies." Apparently, this gentleman is endowed with a somewhat excitable disposition. Still, his style is not unlike Maurice Keesing's.

The Rev. C. A. Tisdale, of Rotorua, owns a dog, and to this dog is attached a tale. The owner being a clergyman, the tale may be looked upon as authentic. Recently, that dog went a-wandering, and got itself lost. The bereft owner forthwith put a notice in a local paper informing the public and the dog that if he (the dog) returned to his sorrowing family all would be forgiven. The public read the notice. So, apparently, did the dog, for on the day that the advertisement appeared, he strode into the newspaper office and camped on the floor until his sorrowing family came along to claim him. Ahem ! Doubtless this sort of thing may be put down to the sulphur.

Most people will remember Melvin Vaminan, the photographer who set a new standard in panoramic photography in this colony. He was the individual who took a photo of Auckland from a masthead. Mr Vamina i is now on his way to Spitzbergen as chief engineer of the Wellman Polar Expedition. He is to have the somewhat unenviable job of handling the biggest airship ever built, and expects to take it safely to the North Pole and back. Every man to his taste, of course. But, under the circumstances, it is very doubtful whether the energetic Vaminan will ever take any more photos of Auckland. People who try to get to the Pole in baloons and airships rarely have to use the return half of their tickets.

The many references to Louisa de la Ramee (otherwise known as "Ouida") which have been appearing in the dailies lately recall aa , incident which happened in Wellington some years ago. Two " Hansard " reporters were discussing the' authenticity of newspaper paragraphs, and one of them wagered £25 that he would write a paragraph . which was quite without truth, but which would be copied into twenty per cent, of the New Zealand papers' without question. The wager was accepted, and the following was in-' serted in a Southern paper : ' ' Mdlle.. de la Ramee, who is ' Ouida,' the well-known novelist, is now on her way to New Zealand to marry an equally well-known Canterbury squatter." Seventy per cent, of the papers copied it without question, and the enterprising "Hansard "■ man netted £1 a word out of that little lot.

Albert Sanford has not gone over body and soul to the Socialists after all. Thus his explanation : Deajr Observer, — I notice that you have had a ' ' dig ' ' at me this week ' ' as I do not run my business on communistic principles with my employees." Sharing profits with employees could not possibly be any benefit to the whole .people, and only very shallow thinkers would advocate such a proposal. Should I ever be overcome by philanthropic desires to benefit others, it would be in the direction of indirectly sharing profits with my customers — by selling cheaper — so that no profits could be made. I would explain that I am now sharing, and always have shared, my profits with all humanity. Whatever " power " spare value has given me I have invested that power <a developing the resources of our Dominion, which must benefit all humanity. My employees now get a living wage, which enables them to purchase all they need to eat, drink, and wear, and that is all I get in this world, and all that sane men should desire. Also, it is all that could be obtained if we were living under the most advanced Socialistic conditions. — I am, etc., A. Sanford.

Harry Musgrove, brother to George of that ilk, now acting as advance agent to the Grand Opera Company, is a wily wielder of the winsome willow. In other words, he is a cricketer of credit and renown. In '96 he accompanied the Australian cricket team Home in the capacity of manager, and he has also put up some good records in the batting line. On one occasion, when he was a member of a team which was playing another combination made up of theatrical artists, he ran up a score of 64, and, as he was the first man in, there was every probability of his carrying his bat through the entire innings. But the rest of the team were not having any. They, too, thirsted for glory, therefore they united their voices in a wild entreaty to Harry to retire. Being naturally modest and retiring, the,, intrepid batsman saw the^ force <>i the argument and retired with all the honours of war. Thus sometimes are one's brightest hopes blighted by the grasping propensities of other people.

J. A. Gilruth, Chief Veterinary Surgeon, is a tall, clean-shaven gentleman with an urbane manner and what the Yankees would call a " hustling " style. Mr Gilruth has just returned from a seven 'months' tour through Europe, and the New Zealand Government will be the gainers, for he has accumulated sufficient knowledge daring his travels to fill a cyclopaedia. He has chafed the elusive microbe in the Paris Pasteur Institute, and has assassinated bacilli at the London cancer hospital. Furthermore, be has been looking into the milk supply system in India, and Egypt, and England, and other insignificant corneriof the earth. Therefore, we may look for some radical changes in the near future. * * #

The starting of the new opposition paper in Wellington Btill continues to be responsible for many changes in the journalistic world. A sort of " general post" game ia in progress. The latest moves are being made by Parliamentary reporter Wheeler, of the Star, who goes to the Wellington Times, wbile reporter Nevin, of the Herald, also goes South to join the Christchurch Press. Then there is S. U. Brae hem, a former editor of the Hamilton Times, who takes up a position on the staff of the new Wellington paper.

A. T. Ngata, M.H.R., has a marvellously clear way of expressing himself. Speaking in the House recently, he said that tohungaism could never be suppressed. " Why ?" chorussed an incredulous House. Then the orator expanded his chest, threw out au arm, and dramatically hurled forth tbe reason. " because," he proclaimed, " you are getting down to bed rock." As an argument, this may be a bit rocky, but it evidently crumpled up all opposition, for by the time members had finished trying to puzzle out what the dickens the dusky orator meant, he had got well into his stride again. Who says that Maori members are ciphers after that ?

The news of the death of Mr Eb. Mynott, country traveller for Messrs John Burns and Co., at the early age of 35 years, will occasion sincere and widespread regret. Genial and affable in manner, warm-hearted in disposition', and a, man of estimable personal qualities and strict business integrity, Mr Mynott made lasting friendships wherever he went, and was held in strong regard by his friends. About a year ago, he was stricken with a form of paralysis, which had a frequently-recurring tendency and which was the beginning of a long and lingering illness Everything that medical science could suggest was done for him, and Mr John Burns, with characteristic generosity, behaved handsomely, but i\lr Mynott gradually sank under his successive attacks. The end came this week, and he was interred in the O'Neill's Point cemetery. There is a deep feeling of sympathy in the community with his wife and little boy. The deceased was n cousin of the well-known "AM Black " footballer of the same name

W. S. Liddle, the Caledonian individual who is cycling round the world, is due here shortly. But surely we have already sufficient cranks in Auckland without adding to the number. Liddle makes it his boast that he left Cape Town with nothing but two ha'pennies in his pockets. That's nothing much to brag about. Any number of people have left there with nothing at all in their pockets and have managed to get along without resorting to mendicancy. But they didn't tour round on bikes yelling about their marvellous achievements. They worked. Liddle hin.self confesses that his game requires plenty of cheek. We should say it did. It is, however, extremely doubtful whether either Liddle' s cheek or Liddle' s wonderful achievements will make much impression on the Auckland public.

Joseph C. Todd, of Portsmouth, England, has lately written what he calls an " Imperial Anthem," and he has been unkind enough to send us a copy, together with his " special permission'" to print it — presumably in extenso. We have no recollection of injuring Mr Joseph C. Todd in any way, so why he should send his " Imperial Anthem " to us is a thing that passeth all understanding. Be mentions that it has been accepted by the King, the Prince of Wales, and each of the Colonial Premiers. We thought Sir Joseph Ward was wearing a somewhat worried look, but we put it down to the Land Bill. Now, however, we have little doubt that Mr Joseph C. Todd's "Imperial Anthem" is responsible for it. Mr Joseph C. Todd is good enough to inform us that his am hem may be sung without fee or license. This is generous of him, but still we think that anyone who is bold enough to &ing it in public deserves a fee.

As the auctioneers say, we quote : — " Where the fierce Tropic pains ; Where fall torrential rains ; O'er range and torrid plains : — Reign ; — Thee alone," Now, what on earth does Mr Joseph C. Todd mean by "Tropic pains?" Certainly, people sometimes get pains when passing through the tropics, but why mention them iv an anthem? " Head of all nations' laws ; Fir.-t in each noble cause ; Averler siill of wars : — Make her to be." This appears to be a bit of a crib out. of the National Anthem, but no amount of poetic license will ever make " wars" rhyme with either " laws" or " cause." " Head of all nations', laws," is delightfully vague. The iLuaic to Mr Joseph C. Todd's " Imperial Anthem " is by Mr G. Herbert Parker, and we are informed that it is to be sung "slowly, with dignity." Thai's a matter that rests with the audience. Personally, we should imagine that the quicker the singer got through the job, the better it would be for himself. « Mr Joseph C. Todd is unique. Can't we persuade him to come out here ?

Evidently more than one religious body intends to make a bold bid to immerse Jerry Lundon in the odour of sanctity. The devotees of St. Pat's, offered him the vice-chair at the " Maritana " shivoo, and for th" following evening he had a fervent invitation to participate in a Salvation Army social gathering. Probably, however, the Lib-Labs. give the immortal Jerry all the excitement which he has any use for. Failing that, he can always fall back on the Parnell Borough Council and William Johns. Besides, it seems a sad waste of time for any religious organisation to try and convert a lawyer.

Harry Carr, of Cambridge, is wandering over the land of the late Five Thousand Club with the family tomahawk, looking for a certain frenzied phrenologist. The said phrenologist is suffering through adhering too closely to the time-worn maxim concerning the feathered biped who rose early aud proceeded to appropriate a worm. The phrenologist happened to hear two Cam bridge identities talking about Harry Carr. Said identity No. 1 : " Harry's troubled about his futuie — reckons he'd like to know when he's going to peg ont, or something." Said identity No. 2 : " Wish L was one of those fellows who read bumps. I'd jolly soon tell Harry when lie's going to turn up his toes." The phrenologist scented a lucrative job, and approached the speakers, with the result that he was advhed to go round and explore the mouutainous expanse of Harry Carr's cranium not later than 7 o'clock the following morning.

At the appointed hour, the phrenologist wended bis way to the house and 1 knocked at the'' door. "■ To the servitor's request as to what he wanted, the bump-reader replied that he wanted Mr Carr — wanted him urgently. Therefore, they summoned Harry From his virtuous couch, whence he descended in a bad temper and his pyjania«. " What d'you want?" be asked tlie phrenologist. " What d'you mean by hauling a man out of his bed in, the middle of the night?" " I beg your pardon," replied tbe phrenologist, •« but I believe you want your head read." It was then that tbe family tomahawk came into play, and it was then that tbe frenzied phrenologist left the premises at the rate of five hundred mile* an hour, .