The Satire of Prosperity.

Observer, Volume XXXII, Issue 21, 3 February 1912, Page 4

The Satire of Prosperity.

Daring the turmoil of the recent, general election, one of the chief characteristics of the Ministerial candidates was to trumpet forth the growing prosperity of this country. Sir Joseph Ward—Baronet of nowhere in particular — the Wizard of Financeendeavoured to hypnotise the elector* into the belief that, despite what critics might say to the contrary, money was plentiful, the increased cost of living was a mere bagatelle, and thi& Dominion was flowing with milk and honey. To the impartial journalist,, however, the groundless utterances of plausibly-tongued individuals only appeal to him as the diplomatic art of political wire - pulling. In his daily rounds he often views with surface sang froid the struggles of the submerged tenth striving to gain an honest livelihood under almost impossible conditions. Further, the typical scenes in our police courts proclaim,, in all their nudity, the prevailing grip of poverty, and strike home to the cute physiognomist many a human chord of despair. But what is the use of assuming the pessimistic view ? Let us be merry and throw our trouble* aside in manner following :— If you're walking round the city and you haven't got a cent. Do not worry ; And the landlord's calling every- day about the bally rent, Do not flurry. When the baker and the butcher, or the'grocer come in force, Just treat them in a manner that'ssuggestive of resource, And tell them that you'll settle in a matter of due course— Not in a hurry ! When you're walking round the city,, and your boots are down at heel, Do not hurry, And you know that you are having anything but a square deal; Do not flurry. Remember there are others in the same boat Just as well, Who sport stiff shirts and collars like? some huge and mighty swell; And live upon the fattest in the very beet hotel, So don't worry! ■ [Impromptu Stanza.] This is the usual sort of way and typical of the style— Of the wily toff who plays the gameto the very bitter end ; He smokes cigars of a costly brand, and wears the latest tile, But he hasn't a quid to bless himself* or a couple of bob to lend. Barrikgton-Kbrsland.

The smile on Dick Barry's face when Bill Whittaker askeji jhim and hie friend, the Makarau farmer, to stay at his bush shack for the night, during a recent visit, hasn't yet come off. As for the farmer, he profanely enquired where in big "H" Bill could, put them if they did stay. Bill says that married men like his visitors, get very much inflated notions about what constitutes comfortable accommodation. He's going to keep single. • • •

Lord Lonsdale's eulogy of the Kaiser as England's best friend does not seem to have pleased the Kaiser, and it certainly hasn't convinced anybody else. We can imagine William gasping the equivalent for "Save me from my friends!" Just now his country is in the throes of an electoral campaign in which it is necessary for the Imperial party to work up a ecare that will not only justify great armaments, but make them appear absolutely necessary for the safety of the Fatherland. England is the one country available as a bogey, so John Bull becomes the demon of the piece, and the British lion the bete noir. It is not likely that at such a crisis the Kaiser will desire to be pictured as the bosom friend of Britannia. Such an attitude on his part would serve to stultify the scare co artfully prepared to dish the Socialists, and Kaiser Willie will not mind if Peace has to go into the same dish provided the Socialists are brown.

A bright young New Zealander, who is as proud of his muscular development as a dog with a double tail, cheerfully consented to pose for a photograph as Actaeon (before he gazed on Diana). Selecting a leafy glade across the water, Actaeon peeUfd, and stood in his native dignity with a fine back-ground of birch and fern-trees. "Let her go, old man 1" he cried to the man behind the lens. "It's rather chilly standing here." Then a couple of lovers wandered, hand in hand, down the pathway. There was a shriek, a , and a naked man bolting into the bush, what time the photographer fumbled underneath the black cloth.

It has been rumoured that Chas. H Poole is training to meet Jack Johnson. The fact of hie -having a black eye and bis hair clipped quite ebort, must have suggested it. Wβ fear be will need to lose a considerable amount of condition before he will stand much cbance in that direction. The rumour has been authoritatively denied.

Then the fact of his staying with his bro-in-law, and both wives being away made some ill-minded' think that a midnight carousal was the cause of the black-eye. But knowing bis host's staunch adherence to the cold water principles this idea had to be scouted. After all, the black eye (which looks considerably worse and more smpicious on a no-license advocate than on one of le&s temperate habits) was got in a very innocent manner. He was playing tennis, and endeavoured to return the ball with bis face instead of the racquet.

The University Senate has been meeting in Wellington and diieussint< things doubtless of great moment, and, incidentally, " scrapping" a bit, but one day last week these grave and reverend professors and other wise men descended to play. The play took place in the Hon. Dr Collins' house, Hobson-street, where they were bidden to a garden party. A marquee had been erected outside the drawing* room for tea, and the lawn was expected to be walked on, but, unfortunately, the rain came down sufficiently to send all the wearers of best frocks into the tent for shelter, and mere man struggled to hand round tea, to drink it, and, incidentally, to stumble over tent pegs in his endeavours.

Dr and Mrs Collins received their guests in the drawing-room, which was decorated with rosea and sweetpeae, the mantelpiece being a bank of the latter flowers in beautiful shades. Mrs Collins wore a black and white striped muslin, with touches of cerise, and a plumed hat. Mies Collins was in grey, with a large black hat. Mrs Arthur Pearce wore a striped black and white mufrlin also, her irock having touches of pale blue.

Mr. H. B. Irving is having a gay time, indeed, in New Z -aland. What with official receptions, luncheons, and other untropical events, it is to be feared that graveside humours and hair raising jovialities of the Prince of Denmark will stand in danger of becoming a puzzle to honest Horatio before the company wave farewell to the shores of Zealandia. It must be a trial, sure, to step from the festive board of the present to the grim guise of the rather dolorous Count of old Denmark, or to the ghoulish pleasantries of " The Lyons Mail," with the last stave of " For He's a Jolly Good Fellow" or some other more or less appropriate refrain still tickling the tympanum. But an actor is a man of many parts, so we must c'en hope for the best till he reaches Dunedin, then we shall see what we shall see, for they brew a powerfu' brew down there, I'm told.

Comes an echo of the past from Wellington in the celebration by Mr James J. Tame of his 95th birthday. Ninety-five years is a long time for the average new arrival to look forward to, and most of us complete the tally on the other side of the styx. But here is a man who has got within half a decade of the century post, and has, furthermore, spent of his 95 winters no fewer than 72 of them in New Zealand. When Mr Tame led his spouse to the altar, shortly after landing, her maiden name, by the way, was Mies Leocadia de Clivera, and opened the first page of the marriage register of Wellington, the future Empire City had all its history before it. *It is a long hark back—exceeding the allotted span itself.

The well-gilded Ramaciotti, who added to hie heap of money while he was in the J. C. Williamson firm, is spending some of it in a way that ought to be greatly to Ibe advantage of Australia. He has be m an enthusiastic Defence man for years, and worked np to the rank of Lieut. - Colonel; and, when he quitted the J. C. W. business and' sped out of Australia, it was chiefly with the object of learning more about the military business. Arriving in Eng-

land in June-he put in three weeks at Aldershot. Passing over to Italy, he < manoeuvred for a fortnight with the" Italian Army, then didstaff work for ' a month in Rime, and when last heard " from was attached to the Ist Bersaglieri. Iα the spring he proposes to go through their manoeuvres with the French and Swis3 armies. "Fairly bird work," he writes out to another Defence enthusiast, " but of extreme value." . .

Tom Pawley, manager of the English cricket team in Australia, manages the Kent county clnb. Appointed after a disastrous season in 1897, he brought in 200 new members at one swoop, and went on hand over hand until he had raised the roll from under 1500 to over 4000, He managed the Kent tour in America in 1903; and Burnup, the Captain, declared that it was "owing to Pawley's excellent arrangements that the thing went through without a hitch." Before taking on a county he was hon. sec. of the Tun bridge Club, and saved its ground by collecting £2,637 in less than three months. In earlier days he did something as a fast bowler, and once took three wickets for 11 ruas against Sussex.

In hie lately-published autobiography, Charles Gavan Duffy gloats over the disposition of O'Shana'ssy as Premier of Victoria. By that time they were ferocious enemies. Yet O'Shan. had been foremost in welcoming Duffy to Australia, and was a prime agent in raisins; the£2.ooo which bought Duffy his residence at Hawthorn. They became Ministers of •State together, O'Shan. as Premier, Duffy as Minister for Lands, while Dick Ireland was Attorney-General. With his Land Act of 1862, Duffy was sincerely desirous of promoting settlement. He thought Ireland cunningly frustrated it, putting in loopholes to facilitate the awful durnrnyism that resulted. O'Shauassy h not likely to have had a hand in this. The simple explanation of the row was that two Irish lions roared along one small strip of beach, and in time each began to think the other a bellowing excrescence.