THAT FATAL PHONOGRAPH

Star (Christchurch), Issue 7032, 10 December 1890, Page 1

THAT FATAL PHONOGRAPH

(Pall Mall Budget.) Of course, I had heard of the thing before. I had a notion that when you turned a handle it recorded human speech by means of electricity. I had also a hazy idea that in shape ' it resembled a coffeemill. But little did I think what a power of evil was latent in that seemingly simple mechanical appliance. ■My first warning was in the case of my poor friend Spooner. Spooner, like some other young men, was an impressionable young fellow, given to saying things in the secluded corners of drawing-rooms that he did not in the least mean his fair interlocutor to hold him to. I often warned him againßt this dangerous habit, but he always replied, in his jovial way, " My dear sir, I'm as safe as houses. Do you suppose I am not a Man of the World ? — (Spooner had a fondness for that egregious title) — I never put down a word on paper." Poor fellow ! he was soon destined to find out his mistake. "As you like, of course/ I answered; "but do be on your guard against that Miss Robinson. I have heard queer things about her lately, and I am sure she is a Designing Person." Spooner, I may mention, is an eligible bachelor with .£SOO a year and prospects of more. The next time I met Spooner I noticed that he looked rather worried. " I almost wish I had taken your advice," he said with an uneasy smile. "Sure enough that Eobinson girl has turned nasty, and she and her mother swear they will bring a breach of promise action. I did go a little far, I'll own to you, but * * * well, there wasn't a word on paper, you know. Still" * * * I f orebore to say, " I told you so," and merely inquired when the case would come on. When it did, I dropped into Court, and saw my unfortunate friend seated beside his solicitor, and listening to the plaintiff's counsel with a ghastly grin. I noticed a queer looking machine in the barrißter'B hand, and waß vaguely wondering what it was when he began to manipulate it in some way. To my amazement I heard in the dead silence the voice of Spooner declaring in impassioned accents that somebody called Adelaide was the light of his life and the apple of his eye. He further observed that the said Adelaide was the only girl he ever cared for, and that he should never enjoy a moment's happiness if she became another's. Then followed a noise resembling the subdued drawing of a cork. Involuntarily I glanced at Spooner. He was perfectly white, but his lips were motionless. The sounds evidently did not proceed from him. There was a great deal more to the same ■ effect, which I need not repeat. I had never dreamed that the wretched man carried his indiscretions so far; for the remorseless phonograph proceeded to make what, viewed broadly and prosaically, 1 can only consider as tantamount to an offer of marriage. The lady called Adelaide evidently took it as such, for a female voice hysterically murmured " Yes," and the incident closed in a regular salvo of cork drawing. At this point the infernal machine was silent. It had played its part and the counsel laid it down. He had another gun to spring. "This, gentlemen," he remarked, unrolling what looked like a large map, "is an instantaneous photograph of the defendant in the very act of tendering his hand and heart to my client. It was taken by a detective camera disguised as a workbox, and represents— but there, I need say no more. Observe the tenderness, the devotion of his attitude, for yourselves, gentlemen. To suit your convenience and give an adequate idea of the scene, the original haa been considerably enlarged." He handed it across, and the jury passed it on from one to the other, roaring with laughter. Even his Lordship bent his face over his notes to hide a smile. It was a huge affair : Spooner and Miss Eobinson exchanging endearments, about half life-size. The Eobinson family got their damages, needless to say, and next day the case was reported in every newspaper throughout the United Kingdom. As to poor Spooner, he started hurriedly for Central Africa, where, I believe, he intends to settle for the remainder of his days. But this has nothing to do with my own misfortune, except in so far as it might have put me on my guard, and did not. I went about my avocations as usual, until by-and-by I encountered my own fate. In the course of business I sometimes had occasion to come in contact with a certain gentleman to whom, from motives of caution, I shall allude as Mr Dash. As our story is of phonographs, and not markets, suffice it to say that Dash took a mean and underhand, though not absolutely dishonest, advantage of me, and then went and bragged about it afterwards. This last was gall and wormwood to me, and I confess I was very angry. I went in my wrath straight to his office, sent up my name, and, after some delay, was shown into the room where that arch-rogue was seated behind his table. As I said, I was very angry, but ■ I had sense enough to look round and make sure we were alone. Satisfied on this score, and heedless of a sneering inquiry, if I had come to do a little more business; I locked the door and proceeded to give him what I called a piece of my mind. This one apiece led •to others, and I imagine our interview must have lasted nearly half -an hour, during which time several people came up and knocked at the door. Dash said very little, and leaned back in his chair with a rather pale face and an ugly smile. When I had quite run dry he rose, and after asking if I would like to make any more observations, opened the door and bowed me politely out with the' same smile. I also smiled. I did not like his looks, and being aware that some of my remarks were distinctly slanderous, I congratulated myself on the interviewhavingbeen a strictly private one. "Dash," thought 1, " may be Dodson and Fogg rolled together, but I, thank Heaven, am no Pickwick." Like that unfortunate Spooner, I stood on the brink of a precipice without knowing it. Weeks passed and I heard no more of the matter, until one day I received a letter from a well-known firm of solicitors, announcing the intention of their client, Mr Dash, to proceed against me for a gross and defamatory slander uttered on the insfc. The case of Dash v. Tomkins was the first of its kind, and excited immense enthusiasm in legal circles generally — an enthusiasm which I wholly failed to share, especially when on entering the Court I set eyes npon the too familiar form of a phonograph. But as the points raised possessed some interest, I may as well give them. "I would not affront the ears of the Court by repeating defendant's words ■verbatim," remarked the hostile counsel, slowly grinding at the handle. " A selection from among the least offensive will amply suffice." The phonograph instantly took up the running, and broke into a flood of abuse, all my own,with the pitiless accuracy of a recording angel. At each particularly slanderous epithet Dash smiled and nodded. ' After a gallant "druggie my counsel succumbed, and at the end of a protracted hearing the case went against me, with heavy costs, and damages to match.