THE FRETFUL PORCUPINE

Observer, Volume XL, Issue 7, 18 October 1919, Page 20

THE FRETFUL PORCUPINE

ME. MASSBY lately bared hie soul by stating there was no money in politics. The House was discussing wheat, and the Prime Minister, who is a farmer, ejaculated that he had never made a penny profit out of wheat. A rude M.P. cut in with "ostriches!" but Mr. Massey withered him with a glance, so that he hadn't a feather to fly with. "Politics pays better!" shouted a legislater, but Mr. Massey denied the soft impeachment. It occurs, however, to the thoughtful scribe that M-P-'s are going to double their own Avages, in which case, of course, the wages of Ministers will be doubled automatically, and Premiers will get as much as a music-hall star or a second-class vocalist—in which case wheat, grass, or ostriches will not be brought into Ministerial calculations. ' # ® ® "Monsieur Digger" writes: "Enclosed please find clipping from Auckland 'Star,' 8/10/19 giving names of a few of the 'heads' who were awarded decorations during the war. How many 'Diggers' attended Government House for the purpose of having their decorations pinned on their breast? Quite a number of 'Diggers' in Auckland (myself included) were awarded medals for gallantry a year or more ago, but we were not invited to Government House for the investiture. 9 ■* * "I presume any ordinary soldiers' decorations are as worthily earned as an officer's, and if any 'Diggers were decorated at Government

House the 'Star' fails to mention it. Now, sir, I am leaving the matter in your hands to give the heads the necessary 'strafe. , " • • « The investiture at Government House was largely a question of awarding a decorative solatium to persons who had kept the home fires burning, incidentally taking care that the domestic banking account did not share in the conflagration. "Monsieur Digger" and Messieurs Digger generally ought to know that throughout the ages the mere soldier has been "clay-high" to nearly everybody but Napoleon. It is worth remembering, as a sample of the truth, that they manage these things better in France, that a famous French General on parade, and before the flower 'of France, took from his own breast the supreme decoration and pinned it to the breast of a mere poilu. It is inconceivable in New Zealand that a mere Fernleaf could be admitted into the sacred presence of a greengrocering 0.8. E. (and, incidentally, it is a wicked shame). © @ © Priceless gem from daily newspaper "show" notice: Worth going to see alone is Mr. Fred Walton, who first comes on as a wooden soldier, and throughout acts in pantomime with an assumption of wooden parcels for Opotiki, per Tasman, at 55.45. This imitation of a parcel is high art. © © ® The Universal international brotherhood of man seems to he thriving like a green bay tree. A German army is bombarding Riga, there's an advance in Petrograd, Mr. d'Annunzio, although smitten with fever (and Avords) is battling away at Fiume, the JBalkans are bubbling, and Europe is alive Avitli kindly brotherliness. America is uneasy, and Mr. H. C. Lodge yells, for a strong nayy (although the U.S.A. alAvays declares that it has the strongestNNaryA r y from Navyyille and don't you forget it!) Washington declares that the Jap is going to exploit China, and if China is Japanned,

the New Zealand boy Highly responsible personages in England (the place made famous by having New Zealand camps in it), point out that militarism is rampant in Japan. Britain offers whole navies to Australia and New Zealand—a navy being the sort of thing that a Brotherhood of Nations grows sweet peas on. Oh, yes, the world is m for a period of perfect bliss and kiss. Of 50 news items in an ordinary daily paper 41 concern records of bloodshed or prophecies for slaughter. <89 ® ® "Markatikit" writes:—''l ask you is it a fair thing to take ex-soldiers into the Police Force? That twoup raid at Wanganui was scandalous. Me cobbers .hadn't a hope. Here's a bunch of Hops making a dugout and camoflaging it with bushes, taking photographs as if they was in the air service and addressing the boys by their krect names when they come out of the "school. , A bloke'll never be safe with these returned soldiers in the force. Here s me—does a bit witfe the Chinese. Marks a ticket down — Street. How are we to know that the soldier blokes isn't a-digging a subterfugean tunnel under the shop: . It they will dig dug-outs and take photos they'll be flinging bombs yet. Life's very hard. A feller feels like a bloomin, sneak even when he s doing his dough in at the trots. A returned soldier cop with a heart as white as snow and a pure soul might switch a Lewis gun on him any moment. We've got all the "guns 'we want on the course as it is. Ihis returned soldier policeman racket is the limit. A sport'll have no chanst with 'em. If I can scoop the pot at Ah Bung's before Christmas I m off to the Argentine, where there ain't no returned soldiers tin the police. The dug-out joint has got me worried. SB> ® » Those popular singing chaps, the Lyric Four, are about to pack their Sortmanteaux, and tour with the hautauqua Organisation. For many moons these harmonious fellows have dispersed sweet sounds in our midst. ' No musical function seemed quite complete without them. The familiar line, Breezy Jack Ryan, Whimsical McElwain, Tenor Ripley, and Digger Richards, will be sadly missed. One feels sure they will go

far and fare well. It is even rumoured they may cross the Big Drink under engagement to Chautauqua. ® . <$ . ® The Situation at Fiuirie is exceedingly grave. Its gravity was not understood until those potent words were published in the "Star." "It is inconceivable that King Victor would consent to d'Annunzio, but it would cmf win b bz bzbzbbzbz zio forming a Government in view of his defiance not only of the Italian Government, but of the Paris Conference.—" If the gentleman referred to above really insists on forming a government New Zealand should immediately despatch mfwy mfwyp mw and recall her plenipotentiary. © <83 ® Some weeks ago reference was made in this paper to a schoolgirl who, not being able to produce a railway ticket, was left on the platform at Papakura, the guard (it was stated) not permitting her to travel. Naturally guards and other railway officials were greatly concerned at the printed reference, ifter exhaustive enquiries no evidence of such an occurrence has been found. It is evident that the story is of the wild and woolly kind, and without foundation. $ <SS ® "Old Hand" writes: I remember the time in New Zealand when, if a coach and four spanked along a road at twelve miles an hour, the farmers would have gone in a deputation to the Government, written letters to the papers, and kicked up particular whatsisname. The other day at the Counties' Conference a motion was carried that no motor vehicle should exceed thirty miles an hour! Personally, I get from bank to bank of a chain-wide road in about three minutes. If Farmer Butterfat is coming round the corner at thirty and I'm on boot—where am I? I ask you, where am I ? My old pal Jull enlightened the proceedings of the speed controversy by saying that he always considered that motor vehicles should be fitted with an automatic device which would come into operation when the speed limit was.exceeded by setting fire to the benzine and blowing up the car and ting the driver, Hear, hear]

Neighbours Gilfillan and Price— one a returned soldier —have earned fame for an exploit at Milford, Takapuna. The matter would no doubt have died with the dog had it not been for a startling explosion that brought alarmed and curious neighbours to the scene of- the tragedy. * •■ . » . ■ ■ Gilfillan, Jun., had a dog that he much prized, a cross between a greyhound and a cross neighbour. Its fate had been sealed at a close conference between the owner and the returned soldier. The die being cast, the returned soldier brought out a loaded gun. The faithful animal was tied to a tree, the gun raised; but a pitiful sob coming from young bilfillan so unnerved the soldier that death by gunfire was abandoned for the day. Another conference. A happy thought, "chloroform!" Next

day, armed with a large bottle of choloroform, the executioners reckoned on an easy job. Tiemg the puzzled dog again to the tree, and saturating a handkerchief with the dope at the end of a long stick, the owner, who took the leading hand this time, poked the death-dealing rag under the dog's nose. Naturally old "Tom" waggled his head from side to side, and avoided the article, and the chloroform dissipated its power in air. * * * Abandoning this ruse, the couple decided on drastic measures. Saturating the floor of a small adjacent shed with chloroform nearly gassed the executioners. Old * a i th ~ ful was pushed and locked into the chloroform chamber. A dismal hour passed. Then the executioners, a dead silence reigning, ventured to open the door gingerly, the old dog pushing his way out. With despair the broken-hearted pair dejectedly wended their way to fresh air and freedom. The dog's owners then nearly collapsed, and sobbing hysterically, his head buried in the cushions of a couch, and a heart-broken wife above him, he was suddenly startled by a crash that brought him to his feet and senses.

Rushing outside, he found Friend Price, the soldier, had come back with fortified spirits. He had returned, entered the little log cabin, and point blank blown out the brains of faithful Tom. ® ® ® "Maimed Body" writes: There's a bit of a controversy going on as to whether a soldier is a soldier if lie hasn't served in the Great War. If he isn't, of course, Wellington's troops at Waterloo were not soldiers, and I. doubt if Nelson's men were sailors either, seeing that they were not at Jutland. But the only point I desire to make in this paragraph is that of the whole body of troops sent from New Zealand to the Groat War only half had any fighting. Probably this was not their fault, but it will be found to be within the confines of truth.

ADVANCE, TAKE PUNER. Dear Mr. Observer, — I take the Liberty of writing at you to let you knows that we had a very successful Concert in the Foresters' Hall last week in aid of the Plunket Nurse fund, and we are mutch indebted to tibe Promoters of the same, and i hope the Funds will be somewhat augmented notwithstanding our Liberal Donations to the same, we have leading Lawyers' Ladies also Hardware Merchants Ladies to say nothing of other Notabilities who arrive in Motor Cars and other Conveyances. My self i use Shanks poney. our Local Donations for the last quarter was the Magnificent sum of 5Jd. last to which will have to be added the small sum from the Concert wh ; ch will certainly increase the amount. for myself i only could afford a tray bit to the fund this qiiaitei but that was owing to the very wet weather and my Husbands 1...54 of time through it. • and on top of that Comes the Admiral and my Husband grasps his hand and ha,-, been Drunk ever since, and at nif'h* he gives Me a slap and shouts. Shake Jellie.—Yours Faithfully, Bridget Mcguinnes, Take a puncr drat the Maori names.

Labour makes a new venture in journalism by taking over, lock, stock, and barrel, the Grey River "Argus"—the Labour Unions having amalgamated to this end. It is. a paper that has been conducted with singular lucidity and excellence, the leading articles particularly being written by a man or men of ideas. There have been few other New Zealand country papers conducted so well editorally. © © © "Fossicker" writes: No wonder the Mayor of Waihi hit the roof, and Hnghie Poland, M.P., went off like a packet of crackers, when it was proposed to give the Agricultural Department first say as to whether land marked out for a mining claim should be mined or not. I admit, without any argu-

ment, that agriculture carries all lands—including the miner—that it is of the first importance, and that without tucker, gold coal, etcetra, are perfectly useless. But there is no mining ground ..in New Zealand fit to grow tucker to. be compared with the millions of acres of tucker land that grows absolutely nothing. The encouragement of prospecting by every possible means is good business. Mining of all kinds—gold, oil, coal, tin, iron—is m its infancy and the development oi all these industries, which are only secondary in importance to tucker production, is a duty. Mining in New Zealand, if properly developed would attract and support tens ot thousands more men and their families. The Agricultural Department has no need to turn its eyes to mining areas—there are. millions or acres of land without mineral in it absolutely screeching for cultivation. © © © An interchange of intellectualities occurred within the sacred walls of Parliament , between Mr. Nosworthy, Mr. Wilford, and Sir Joseph Ward. The southern papers head them up in large black letters as lively passages. These are the truly hu-

morous, biting, sarcastic, intellectual passages referred to as lively:— Mr. Nosworthy: "I do know." Mr. Wilford: "How do you know?" Mr. Nosworthy: "I do know." Mr. Wilford: "But how do you know?" (Laughter.) * * .* This buoyant humour still goes further, and if Mark Twain were alive he'd die of envy:— Sir Joseph Ward: "You don't know what you are talking about." Mr. Nosworthy: "I do." Sir Joseph Ward: "You don't." Mr. Nosworthy: "I do." (Laughter.) Yes, dear brethren, they're going to get £600 a year for doing that unless they cut out politics and take to real vaudeville.

"Old Swad" writes: It was during a certain war. The troops had had a rotten time —long treks, no tucker, stinking water, a few fights, no sleep, etc. They were being entrained for a new place, and some misguided soldier discovered a whole waggonf-load of rum. The troops did the rest—filled the water bottles and filled themselves. _ Many lay on the railway line, their tired heads, on the metals. Perhaps the driver had a nip, too. Anyhow he started the engine, and there was a succession of crunches and several heads were smashed to pulp. WE. DID LAUGH!