STANLEY'S WELCOME HOME.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 6884, 20 June 1890, Page 2

STANLEY'S WELCOME HOME.

[Fbom ova, London Cobbebpondint-J LoNDOir, May 2. Stanley's welcome home on Saturday last waß, I am sorrow to Btate, a horrid muddle. A train-load of tbe right people, officials, explorers, artists, journalists, and what not, went down to Dover by special early in the afternoon, and if theyihad had* portion of the Admiralty Pier to themselves on which to receiv*. the " Buccaneer of the Congo" everything would have gone well. _ Unfortunately, the Mayor and Corporation of Dover had determined (despite Stanley's telegraphic petition that h» might be spared ceremony) to fire off an address of welcome afc the much tired explorer. The pohee were instructed to enable their chief Magistrate to achieve this at all hazards, and so well did they carry out their duty that the hero's personal friends failed for a long time to get near him. Stanley (looking tired and a trifle surprised) soon found himself in the midst of a seething, shouting, staring mob of nobodies,, through, whioh tho police forced a difficult passage. ' At length the special train was reached, and artistß, journalists, explorers,, frienda and nobodies fought wildly with on© another to enter the Stanley saloon. Yoa should hear little Paul dv Chaillu's description of the scene. He was fortunate himself, being one of the very few people in whom the grim hero of the hour : evinced the faintest interest. Stanley : also spoke courteously rather than cordially to Melton Prior, and uttered a few commonplace phraseß concerning his pending, visit to the Prince of Wales. Otherwise hedeclined brusquely to be drawn, treating the band of deferential journalists who flocked hopefully around with a cool contempt they are not likely to either forget or - forgive. Strange, is it not, that this man, who is aa ex-special himself and must know all the difficulties and awkwardnesses of an interviewing journalist's vocation, Bhould rejoice in baulking the tired pressmen of the few words they required to work up into copy. j There are some who see a deep-laid ' scheme fpr enhancing the value of hiß owa writings (magazine articles and what not), in Stanley's studied rudeness to the press. I confess I do not believe in anything of the kind myself. The truth is, more probably, that the poor fellow has been pestered on the Continent by foreign, reporter,., till he loathes the sight of a 1 man with a pencil. Nevertheless, in flout- ' ing the smart interviewers of the press on Saturday, and almost ignoring hiß old employers, the Lawsons, the Buccaneer ot the Congo acted unwisely. The acidulated tone ot the descriptive articles in the various papers' showed this. There is an. amusing account ot the scene in the Stanley Bpecial train, J?v Toung Morley of the P.M.GL j ** Poor Stanley ! Our new^Jipn and hero looked horribly bor<d and miserable on Saturday afternoon during his ride" up to London from Dover. Can you be __?r» prUed ? There was Mr Ashmead-Baitlett-Burdett-Coutta sitting on his knee, Sir ! William Mackinnon treading on his corns, j Sir Francis De "Winton struggling to em- ' brace him, the Lawsons fighting for him, ' and a score of other notables making themselves very obvious. The poor man waa j suffocating. The squash was awful. ! Twenty pressmen pressed in vain, and j shoved and fought, and fought and shoved, but to no purpose. Half a dozen artists, sketch-books in hand, also tried to catch a glimpse of the hero's physiognomy, but I doubt if any of them was successful in seeing anything but his boots. Poor I Stanley read his letters and telegrams during all the turmoil, and never turned a hair, though I have no doubt that jhe was privately wishing he had all j the mob in Central Africa. There I were few exceptions ; every one stared at the poor man as if he had been some j curious wild beast. In twenty minutes the j excitement subsided, the crowd dispersed | without the assistance of the police, and Stanley puffed away at his cigar with a j phlegmatic air. No interviewer drew him, ! and seldom a word spake this grim and. j saturnine hero with the snow-white hair and the face of unburnt clay. There were, however, other heroes in the carriage. Lieutenant Stairs, tall and taciturn; Mr Jephson, short and smiling; Surgeon Parke, a regular young Apollo ; and Captain Nelson, had taken back seats, but came in for some close observation. The polish of capitals has supplanted the tan of the tropics, and there is nothing of the savage left in these young gentlemen. It iB disappointing, but it is true. Mr Bonny, another of Stanley's young men, had even gone so far as to sport a pair of patentleather shoes, a tall hat, and coat cut in the latest fashion. Could this neat and fashionably dressed young man be the survivor of the rear guard, the man who carried the living skeleton of Troup down to the boat, who buried Barttelot, and starved for many terrible monthß at that famouß camp on the banks of the AruwhimiP Can this effeminate little man who sits there twisting his moustache be the Jephson who fought and intrigued with Emm P And that slim and delicate yonng Apollo, with the open countenance, be the plucky Parke we have heard bo much of as the man who saved Stanley's life ? What a contrast these innocent young gentlemen present to that foxy old Ulysses who puffs away in the comer — grim, imperturbable, impenetrable! Except for his snow-white hair and his Chinaman complexion, Stanley seems to have changed but little during the last three years. He looks fat and well. What effect the London season will have upon him it will be difficult to say. The London Bore is far more deadly than any African fever." ,