Pars About People.
WHEN Father Patterson was at Waihi recently, some of the Waiheatbens, desirous of saving his glossy and resplendent bell-topper from the rain that was raining every day, clubbed together and presented him with a magnificent silver - mounted umbrella. It was a beautiful " gamp " entirely— silk-covered, check action, diamondtopped, double-distilled, ball-bearing, and up-to-date in every respect. Nevertheless, that innocent umbrella was nearly the reverend Father's undoing. It came about after this fashion. The Father was returning to Auckland by tbe train, and having selected a comfortable seat in the smoking carriage, he leant his umbrella up against the arm thereof, and dropped oft into a gentle doze. He was awakened by the train coming to a .stop at one of the stations, and found, to his horror and indignation, that his beautiful umbrella had disappeared. Somebody had evidently snared it while he slumbered.
This outrage fired his Irish blood ; and he glared round the carriage to see if he could detect the criminal who had done this thing. His fellowpassengers all looked innocent enough. Anyway, none of them appeared to have his umbrella. Then the Father's gaze wandered to the window, and he saw, disappearing through the gate of the station platform, a well-known commercial traveller of Scottish extraction, bearing what looked suspiciously like the sacred umbrella. Father Patterson gave a view-halloo, and lit out in pursuit of the malefactor. " Come back, Your Reverence !" yelled the guard ; " the train's just going to start." " Wirroo, ye shpalpeen !" replied His Reverence ; " don't ye dare to let her go till I've got a hold of that base shcoundrel who's making oft wid me umbrella before me rery eyes. D'ye hear me now ?"
The guard was about to say more, but Father Patterson dashed oft in pursuit of his quarry, and grabbed him by the arm. " Hallo, Father," said the commercial, who, like most Aucklanders, knows "Father Pat" well; "what's the matter?" "Don't be after trying to brazen out your crime," retorted His Reverence. " Gimme that umbrella, or 'tis murther there will be at once, if not sooner." «« Umbrella?" exclaimed the commercial ; " why should I give you my umbrella!" " Och, get away with yea !" replied Father Patterson ; •« sure and aren't ye getting away wid the foine new brolly that me Waiheathen admirers presented to me. It's ashamed of ye Oi am, entoirely. D'ye moind me now ?" The commercial was about to demand further enlightenment, when the guard came rushing up. "I say, Father Patterson," he yelled, " for heaven's sake get aboard. We're ten minutes behind schedule time now. If it's your umbrella you're looking for, you'll find it on the rack in your carriage. It slipped down on to the floor while you were asleep, and I took the liberty of shoving it up on the rack, in case it shouid get spoilt." "Ta)e an' ages !" said Father Patterson, and while he scrambled on board, he leflected sadly upon the trouble into which a similarity of umbrellas is liable to lead the unwary.
Ministers Tom Mackenzie and Ngata broke fresh ground in Wellington the other evening by taking the lecture platform, the Hon. Tom descanting upon " New Zealand, Our Own Land, the Brightest and Best," with Cinematograph illustrations, and the Hon. Apirana giving a recitation on the ancient Maori, entitled " Scenes of the
Past." Which suggests that tbe present versatile Ministry might do something next session to wake the Parliamentary proceedings out of their usual dry-as-dust form if each was to specialise his own particular hobby. Sir Joseph for instance, instead of " Hansaidising " a speech upon the Defence Conference tour, might enliven the subject with a gramaphone record' of his orations in London, and a graphic illustrated narrative of " How Cassells and I Dodged the Shadows." Think, also, bow bis Budget could be brightened with lantern pictures of " Happy Homes in our State-owned Villages."
Then J. A. Millar might illuminate bis Railways Statement with a bright series of films -on "The Severed Services," for which W. F. Massey and the diemayed Drurians would probably sit with chastened pleasure. George Fowlds could lecture with gusto on "Soft-soaping Grey Lynnets — How it Feels to be Lathered." Roderick McKenzie would be able to relate some interesting stories about " The Divided North," with pictures of John Stallworthy and W. F. Mander glaring defiance at each other from opposite sides of the disputed railway route. Timi Kara and David Buddo could "stagger" the House with sensational illustrations of the progress of land settlement, and throw upon the screen slabs from the " Herald " editorials ; while Dr Findlay could cheer up the "Lords" with contrasting
views ofc " Prisons as They Are and as I Would Make Them." From the point of view of entertainment it is a pity that Alex. Hogg withdrew from the Ministry so soon after displaying his powers as a comic interpreter of French menus. There is still, however, an abundance of talent left in the Ministry that should not be left unutilised.
Edraond Fitvpatrick, who has just left Ngaruawahia to settle ia one of the suburbs of Auckland, must have felt something like a tree pulled up by the roots when the train bore him away from his old home. For Mr Fitzpatrick's roots in the business life of Ngaruawahia extend back to the beginning of European history there. When he settled in the town, in the year 1864, there were only about a score of pakehas in the district. Since then he has seen the period of unsettlement in the Waikato War, then the peace and the opening up of the valley by railway, and its growth into the prosperous settlements of to-day, and through all these changing scenes of life he has been one of the pillars of business in the town, an adviser to the new-comer, and altogether a publicspirited citizen. Ngaruawahia turned out to almost a man and a woman one evening last week to pour upon him and his family valedictory tears, and to burden Mr Fitzpatrick with a cor-dially-worded address. That they will miss so old and active a citizen goes without the saying.
Seeing that even the sun has its spots, it is not amazing that the Rev. Water- Diviner Mason should fail once in a while in his uncannily accurate peerings into the earth's strata. Tirau, where the timber comes from, has withdrawn the vote of confidence which it passed on Mr Mason when he indicated the spot at which it was to tap an aqueous supply. It seems that the Tiraunana have put down pipes to a depth of 468 feet without finding as much water as would dilute a tot of whisky. Wherefore, they have tranferred their affections to rival diviner J. K. Raw, of Kotorua, and purpose sinking another pipe at an alleged water-bearing spot which he has located. After all, it is raw material that they wanted from the outset.
Maurice Casey and George Powley have constituted themselves a committee of two to keep paternal eyes upon the Watchman, the islet which stands sentinel in the upper harbour. They devoted Arbor Day to the planting of shrubs on the island, and are thinking of forming a vigilance committee of Ponsonby residents to ensure that the plantation shall be protected against raiders. In the public interest some step of this kind is called for, as the shrubs that were planted out last year have fallen victims to vandals, having evidently been carried ofl to adorn someone's — and possibly a Ponsonby someone's — garden. Just let Maurice Casey or George Powley catch anybody devastating their little preserve, and — well, they will not answer for the consequences.
(Jut of the vivid recollections of George Buller concerning old - time colonial theatricals comes a story concerning Edmund Holloway, that is worth repeating. Edmund Holloway, be it remarked, must be distinguished from the brothers William and Charles of that name, who were mummers of a later generation. Back in the sixties, Holloway was associated with Sir William and Lady Don, two distinguished actors from England, in a tour of the Victorian goldfields. Ore night the company finished a season at Castlemaine, and celebrated the event with a champagne supper, which ended in general merriment. Their engagement for the following night was at Carisbiooke, eight or ten miles distant, and upon a cheerful assurance from Holloway that he knew every tree along the route, it was agreed to drive across through the cool midnight air rather than face the next day's heat.
Accordingly, the Dons' coach washarnessed up, the leading lights of the company entered it, and the journey was started, Holloway taking bi» station on the box as guide. After driving for upwards of an hour along gullies and through bush, the coach began to traverse beautifully smooth country. Presently a large building was discovered through the gloom. Holloway was asked if he knew it. Yes, he believed that it was one of "Big Clarke's" outstations — "Big Clarke " being grandfather of the Sir Rupert of to day. Very soon there; was another building, which Holloway confidently distinguished as belonging to the Chirnsides. At remarkably regular intervals came quite a succession of other buildings, as to which Holloway had to admit that his encyclopedic knowledge of the countryside failed him.
By this time the distance predicted bad been considerably over-run, and Sir William Don, uneasy as to the party's position, insisted that when next they came to a building a stoppage should be made, to inquire whether it was anywhere near Carisbrook. In a few minutes the building: was reached, and the coachman was despatched to investigate. After an absence of two or three minutes he returned with a startling report. The building was not a residence at all,, but a grandstand. Then it dawned upon the travellers that they were near their destination, and had prolonged the journey by making about a dozen circuits of the Carisbiooke racecourse !
Sir Robert Stout, on his travels in the Old Country, has made the remarkable discovery that for energy and industry the New Zealand workman is superior to his English brother. List to his indictment of the British workman in a London newspaper interview : — " You are slack all round. The strenuous life seems to have gone out of fashion. . . Look at the labourers in the streets, and watch the leisurely way in which they put in time on the job. Just now I saw a paving stone being chipped. In New Zealand it would have been done by one man. Here it occupied three. . . As in town, so it is in country. Your ploughmen don't plough as our New Zealanders plough. Your farms are not bb well cultivated. Everywhere slackness, inefficiency, lack of drive, lack of snap, and lack of intelligence." From all this it might be imagined that Sir Robert has only now come across illustrations of the Government or Corporation stroke, or the trades union ca'canny system. And yet he might have found such a thing without going outside of happy New Zealand. What say the award - ridden employers or the revenue - providing ratepayers ?
Solicitor J. R. Lundon and Chief Detective Marsack were seen scurrying together through the town last Thursday like twin cyclones, and citizens scented murder, highway robbery, or something equally sensational. As a matter of fact, however, the cause of the excitement was a much more prosaic one. There were several indictable cases awaiting trial at the Police Court. Judge Kettle, as is always the case on a Thursday, was adjudicating in the S.M. Court, and Magistrate Cutten was at Whangarei. Consequently, it was necessary to fall back upon the services of Jaipees ; but, unfortunately, only one appeared to be available, and that one was Archibald Clements. Archibald is an exemplary Jaipee, but the trouble was that, in order to deal with indictable offences, two Jaipees are necessary, and although Auckland is rich in the possession of a goodly number of the Great Unpaid, they weren't forthcoming on this occasion.
After the casual " drunks " had been disposed of, business came to a standstill. The benignant Archibald, from
his place on the bench, glared at the chief detective, while Lawyer London, who was appearing in defence in most of the indictable cases, rustled his papers impatiently, and anxiously inquired when these cases would be heard. But Archibald Clements was helpless. According to the law, he couldn't adjudicate without the as* sistance of another Jaipee. The situation was becoming desperate. Then J. R. Lundon and Chief Detective Marsack laid their intellectual heads together, and decided to run a Jaipee to earth, or perish in the attempt. And thus the unusual Bpectacle was seen of the prosecuting detective and the defending solicitor scurrying together through the city, seeking someone to sit in judgment over the various indictable cases. Finally, on the slopes of sweet Parnell, they lassoed Jaipee Rountree, escorted him to the Police Court, and disposed of the business. Truly, judging from these signs and portents, Judge Kettle is justified in expressing an opinion that a third stipendiary magistrate should be appointed.
Robert Baxter, who shovels out bullion at the National Bank in exchange for cheques, doesn't want to see any more Ladies' Benevolent Society collections for a very long time, if ever. To Robert fell the task of receiving and sorting out the spoil, and he has lost about five stone over it. Robert is a lightning hand at sorting out money, but he is not used to sorting out buttons, and sticky lollies, and bits of tobacco, and oyster shells, and card counters, and tram tickets, and hairpins, and tie clips, and chewing gum (much chewed), and orange peel, and banana skin, and various other Eesthetic articles too numerous to mention. All these, as well as a multiplicity of base coin, were mixed up higgledy-piggledy with the genuine bullion. Trouser buttons were in the majority, and Robert reckons that when, in the course of a month or two, he hasgot through the job of counting them, he will have enough to replace any missing buttons on the nether garments of everybody in the establishment, from the poetical Henderson to the veteran " Jeff." So that if the Ladies' Benevolent Society don't benefit by these buttons, the bank officials will. Thus doth a beneficent and all-seeing Providence find a use for everything.
A. M. Howden, of the Waitemata Golf Clab, says that golf is different from most games, in that there is little noise connected with it. Ahem !— When the enterprising golfer goes agolfing, And is meeting with a maximum of lack ; Well, 'tis really very vexing and annoying When he finds that in a " bunker " he is stuck. : ' : ■ Then he utters- words of colour that's cerulean, And his soul with indignation is aflame ; While the atmosphere for miles around in blighted With anathema — oh, golf's a " quiet " game ! ■ ■ • Alfred Hill, whom Aucklanders well know as both a composer and teacher of music, and as a former conductor of their Orchestral Society and Liedertafel, is just now resident at Parnell, recuperating as the gneat of Mr and Mrs Harry Philcox from the effects of the serious illness which he lately experienced in Wellington. Mr Hill is a musician to whom New Zealand owe* some gratitude, for no other composer has done so much for ihe perpetuation of Maori melody. Before he wrote the music of the cantata "Hinemoa" and the opera " Tapu," he spent months in and about Maori hapus, drinking in the love songs which Piripi might be disposed to pour into the shell-like ears of his Arawata, and also the stirring rhythm of the haka and the lilt of the poi song, and comoiitting them imperishably to paper. Whatever may be the fate of his other compositions, Mr Hill can be certain of enduring fame as a brilliantly successful recorder of the music of the hapu.
Had it not been for his illness, Mr Hill would probably be preparing about this time to weigh anchor for a trip to London. Not long ago, the opera " A Moorish Maid," which is the joint perpetration oi Youlin Birch and himself, was taken in band by Cunningham Bridgeman, an Englishman of weight in the musical and theatrical world, who formed an Anglo-Colonial joint stock company for its production in London. The arrangements for the venture are now well advanced, and a proposal has been made to Mr Hill to go Home for the purpose of oonduoting the performances. Cer-
tainly he is not in a fit condition to undertake the project just now. If, however, the Auckland climate should hasten his complete recovery of his characteristic vigour there is no knowing what may happen yet.
James Forgie, whose name appeared in the obituary lists last week, cut a prominent figure at the Thames in the days of the field's prosperity. Not long after his arrival in Auckland from his native Edinburgh with his father, brothers, and sisters, Mr Forgie made his way to the goldfield. There he was one of the original holders of the John o' Groats claim, on the spur overlooking the Moanatairi Creek, which was of some note in its day, and was eventually absorbed in the Alburnia. Later on he settled down in Pollen-street as proprietor of the bakery business that has since been carried on by ex-Mayor William Scott. When volunteering was at its height on the Thames, Mr Forgie was a member of Colonel Murray's famous Scottish Battalion. Also, when fortune smiled upon himself, he was well known as a man of kindly and generous disposition. After leaving the Thames, he had business periods in Ponsonby and at Kuaotunu, and his later years have been spent as custodian of Endean's Buildings, Queen-street.
There were signs of unwonted animation about shed "B" on the wharf last Friday, when a gathering ot over a hundred people, all more or less connected with the snipping interest, assembled to make a presentation to Mr Joseph Warren, who, after fourteen years' service as storekeeper to the Harbour Board, has now been transferred to the position of custodian of the weighbridge. Traffic Inspector Burgess made the presentation, which consisted of a gold watch and chain and a smoker's companion. Mr Burgess threw a neat piece of oratory off his manly bosom, referring particularly to Mr Warren's obliging and courteous disposition, and the excellent relations that had always existed between him and his colleagues. The recipient having responded in a feeling manner, the old wharf trembled beneath the sonorous cheering with which the ceremony concluded, causing Engineer Hamer to cast an anxious glance from his office window in the direction of his ferro- concrete piles. If long and faithful service counts for anything, Mr Warren richly deserved the presentation. . ■„ , ..;.•■ <. I ,:>"\.. V ""^ ; -:V:^
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TO19090731.2.8
Bibliographic details
Observer, Volume XXIX, Issue 46, 31 July 1909, Page 4
Word Count
3,120Pars About People. Observer, Volume XXIX, Issue 46, 31 July 1909, Page 4
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