THE OLD CHRISTCHURCH POST OFFICE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 17352, 17 May 1924, Page 17

THE OLD CHRISTCHURCH POST OFFICE.

A REMINISCENCE; (By R. 8.) An old letter—written by one, near artr? dear, in the 44 seventies ”—recently came into my possession, and, as 1 looked at the old stamp and postmark. my thoughts went back to those old days when, on the arrival of the English mail, I—then but a youth—was wont to wait iny turn to inquire ior letters at the peephole under the verandah of the dingy old post office in the Market place. It sometimes happened that 1. had to wait some time, hut the compulsory waiting was not altogether irksome, as the people coming to the post office and those passing between Armagh Street and the river were never-failing objects of interest to me even at that early age. Of the frequenters of the post office none interested me more than the Lady ot Cashmere, who would drive up in her carriage and pair, ami generally, before alighting, address a few words in Hindustani to her Hindu coachman The tastefully dressed lady- the leader of Christchurch society in the seventies—seemed to me. who saw things with the natural judgment of a youth to symbolise graciousness. Filled as l was at that time with tho glamour of ‘ The Arabian lights” and “The In chan Mutiny.” it was but natural that I should build many 44 castles in the air.” after gazing at the l.ady of Cashmere.

But who is this good dame in the cottage bonnet and shawl who has just arrived on the scene in a Sydney dray, drawn by a harnessed bullock? A strong. resolute, tidy woman this; healthy-looking. and evid ently a worker She elbows her way to the delivery peephole, an 1 asks, with an accent that almost indicates the county in England where she was born, if there are any letters fot her. She is told there are none : but the answer does not satisfy her, so the clerk asks her where she expected a letter from. “Wiltshire!” is the answer. “ Nothing for you!” is the final word. Her face shows her disappointment. and. as she turns to leave the precincts of the post office, she addresses a female bystander as follows: 11 Lor . now. to think 1 should a 5 coni'? all the way from Harewood Road a’most a’ purpose, an’ never a line. Why. there were a letter in the candle last night, as plain as a pikestaff, so I was cert’in sure I’d hear from sister Mariar. Ah. well ! better luck next time. I’ll bid you good-day, ma'am, as I be going to step across to the draper’s now I’m in. and get a bit o’ cheesecloth.” How the fleeting years mellow and improve some people! 1 have seen the good woman from Wiltshire within the lost year or two. and noted how 6tylish--looking and important she had become. Evidently she is now well Messed with the world s goods, and she sits in her smart trap with a! most an air of distinction. Canterbury has done well for her, and she, no doubt, has done well for- Canterbury. 1 wonder if 6he has kept the old-time cottage bonnet and shawl, which she wore when I first saw her. It would not surprise me to hear that they were carefully locked up in the old box which she brought with her from England—a box fragrant with lavender and memo-

But I must hie me back to the past. Who are these crossing over from Cook and Ross’s corner? Ah. yes. That well-known, jovial, portly figure is easily recognised as a popular bachelor 6tation-holder from the Malvern district. His companion is an equally well-known actress, who at that time had gained a firm hold as a popular favourite, owing to her brightness, resourcefulness and versatilitv. In those

days actresses must have been far less conservative than the actresses of to day, for tho lady mentioned was wont to play roles as diverse as the name part in “Hamlet,” 44 Black-eyed Susan,” 44 East Lynne,” 44 London Assurance,” the principal part in the farces, besides dancing the sailor’s hornpipe and singing a number of songs in quite a taking style, all in the course of a week. She walks along briskly, and as she walks she merrily rallies her companion about his increasing plumpness. He retaliates good-humouredly, and then commences to tease the lady’s pet poodle. They merely come under the verandah to post some letters, and leave again immediately. The man with the merry laugh and the jollylooking face made his final exit before the present post office was finished, and his companion, though still alive, has had to submit to Time s prorogative, and withdraw from the stage. She used to be a woman of spirit, so perchance she has retained her merry heart and some memories of Christchurch as a solace for the downhill of life, which is now her lot in another land. But who comes next to the post office? As. yes! the partners, Messrs Thoms and Nedwin—authorities on blood horseflesh, and gentlemen both. Popular, good hearted-fellows these—men who kept young hearts when past middle age. The tallpr of the two partners stops a moment to speak to a popular cornet player, and then rejoins Nedwin. Poor Nedwin- how he used to cheer when the Traducer stock were successful at the Canterbury spring meeting! Alas! Thoms and Nedwin have both been under the turf for many a long year. The social life of their set was not conducive to length of days, and so these two good fellows, who had ro enemies hut themselves, passed out. Now a cab drives up, and from it a portly individual alights. A prominent and well-known citizen this : and as he walks forward to the delivery door, 1 notice his silk hat. his black frock coat

and the quantity of material in histrousers. As 1 note his well satisfied expression.. I recall stories of his humble beginnings in Christchurch and his successful efforts. As be advances he nods smilingly to one. and says a few words to another, as though disposed to Ire sociable. The tones of his voice are rather unctuous, and he has certain mannerisms which attract attention. and it is pretty evident that he is on good terms with himself and the world. He soon finishes his business. and before stepping into the waiting cab he stops to speak to a middleaged Scotsman who had just crossed the street. The conversation was not at all subdued, and this was the gist of it: 44 How do you do. Mr M’Pherson? Ah ! you have a son. I believe, Mr Archibald M’Pherson, who was recently in my employ. I am sorry. Mr M’Pherson, to have to mention the reason why £ parted with your son, but I feel that it is my duty to inform you that when I remonstrated with your son, Mr Ar chibakl M’Pherson, for neglect of duty, he used an objectionable epithet to me—in fact, he swore, Mr M’Pherson, and of course I could not tolerate that. Good day. Mr M’Pherson.” 44 Council Chambers. please, cabby,” and away he goes. This portly person, for all his mannerisms, was not only shrewd and enterprising, but pub-lic-spirited also, and at this time he was a respected, prosperous citizen, and Christchurch was the gainer by bis efforts. Work is the safety-valve for 6uch temperaments, and when our friend lost the incentive to work, he drifted from the position he had gained. Eventually he passed out in the

sere and yellow leaf; but there are people still living who do not forget to say a good word on his behalf. Ah ! Here comes a well-known dignitary of the church. He.was placid, portly, and dignified in the 44 seventies.” and so he was when I saw him last in the 44 nineties.” Of him it may well he said that all who knew him either esteemed him for his amiable nature, or loved him for his tender heart. I am forgetting, however, that we have to do with the 44 seventies,” and that our good

friend has stopped to speak to a lady, who is leading a little child by the hand. He jiats the child on the head, and answers its prattle as follows, 44 Well, little one. you have a peculiar little language of your own.” It was not so much the words as the delivery of them that arrested the attentionthe voice being modulated to the same measured cadences which those who were accustomed to his Sunday service oratory knew so well. Alas! our old friend has now gone for ever from the city he loved. Let- us keep his memory green for his tender heart, and for the interest he took in education in the old days. 1 have still in my possession a valued hook which lie gave as a prize to the church school in Christchurch, where 1 secured a portion-of my educai tion. I can still remember how pleased I was to win the hook and the donor’s , compliments. People still come and I go- ! Here come Mendelsohn Roberts, the j pianist, and the popular baritone singer from the bank —he who delighted con-cert-goers in the “seventies” with ' A Warrior Bold.” The tall individual who now arrives on the is well-known as an assister of people in difficulties 1 —-for a consideration. His face is sorae- | what oriental in type- and his oxpresj sion and carriage rather suggests disj dainfulness. He is overtaken by a j well-known tonsorial professor, and as I they come along together it is evident | that both are fluent talkers. Now passes I an esteemed amateur lady singer, who | captivates not onlv with her sweet I voice but also with‘her beautiful locks, j She stops to speak to that rare old bass singer, who at the time sang “ Honour and Arms.” so remarkably well. Now I a handsome, well-dressed lady, aocomI | paned by a gentleman, comes on the

scene, and I recognise Madame Carandini and Walter Sherwin. One might dub her Madame the Wonderful, for she looks positively younger and brighter than when I saw her in Australia some half-dozen years earlier. Her voice that beautiful voice—actually seemed, when last I heard her sing, to be more flute-like than of yore. As she turns away from the post office. I begin to wonder if I shall ever again listen to a singer who will thrill me as she thrilled me at her concert the night before, when she sang “ The Last Rose of Summer” and “The Harp That Once.” When T grew older, and began to make comparisons, I realised more ■ fully what a beautifully-balanced and harmonious concert party we had in the Carandinis. They say we forget quickly nowadays, hut there must he many living who were concert-goers in the “ seventies.” and these, like myself, cannot have forgotten Fannie’s rendering of Balfe’s 44 0 ! take me to tliy heart again,” or Rosina’s 44 T cannot mind my wheel, mother” : or the quartette’s rendering of > Bishop’s “ Blow, gentle gales ” —what a blend of melody and harmony they made of tho lastmentioned. But I am forgetting others who claim attention. Who is this crossing- from the 44 Golden Fleece ” corner? A first glance suggests a tall station-owner from the Geraldine district, a second vetoes the impression, and a third says Wiliam Hoskins. He is as faultlessly dressed, dis-tinguished-looking. and debonair as when first I saw him. As he approaches the post office lie bows to a passing lady, and what a bow it is—a bow worthy of Sir Walter Raleigh. He passes under the verandah, posts his letters, and leaves again; and T look at him with the eyes of a youth who has seen his first half-dozen plays, and is conscious of a new wonderland in the theatre. The veteran actor had just arrived from Auckland. and was announced to play as usual at the Theatre Royal. How well I remember the season, for it was my privilege to see

him twice, and in characters as diverse as Dr Pangloss and I ago. What a debt we owe William Hoskins—that is to say those of us who commenced to he playgoers in the 44 seventies ” —for undoubtedly his sound, scholarly judgment: his skill in managing, blending, and developing his players, and his remarkable talents as an actor brought about results wheh helped playgoers to acquire a good criterion in matters dramatic. Now T must curb Fancy’s flight, move away from the old post office, forget the past, and return to the present. Possibly we are more “ cribb’d, cabined, and confined” nowadays than we were in the 44 seventies,” presumably we are, on the whole, cleverer, more critical. more inclined to run in grooves, and assuredly we are more, easily bored than in “ the days that are no more,” but it is questionable after all if we are brighter, more original, or have more genuine refinement, or better taste than the adult denizens of Christchurch and its vicinity had in the ‘‘seventies.”