Wellington Notes.

Wairarapa Standard, Volume XX, Issue 2086, 29 June 1887, Page 2

Wellington Notes.

WELLINGTON, Jimo 28. How agitated some small things are if they are not taken notice of; they would rather bo castigated than attract no attention. lam reminded of this fact'u natural history by glancing at the badly printed columns of bad English of your little friend the ‘ Wairarapa Observer of Thursday, June 23. Tuis ambitious animalcule actuaUy wads because the Standard, up to that date, had treated it with silent and good humoured con. tempt. The ‘ Observer ’ forgets that men do not care to war, unless compolled, with unpleasant insects. How. ever, after an appreciative perusal of your Friday’s loader, " The Obsen ei s Political Coarseness,” I am inclined to suppose that the cheerful creature (or creatures P) of Carterton, (&c. P), regret having opened his callow mouth so widely. Perhaps not, though ; Providence, for its own inscrutable reasons, furnishes some of the most ofleusive pachyderms with the toughest lades. The ‘ Observer ’ opines Friday is an unlucky dav on which to make a venture. Well, Friday, ’tis true, is the day on which earth’s greatest tragedy befell, but your imperfectly educated little friend (or friends ?) is unaware that Friday u also the day on which tne UNREf’estakt THIEF was crucified I

The skipper of the “Duchess of Argyle ” lately captured off Cape Horn, an albatross wealing locket-wise round its neck an old brass compass in which a scrap of paper, whereon, in faded ink, the woros :—“ Caught May 2, 1842, in lat. 38 degrees, 16 minutes S.; 40 degrees, 14 minutes W. long., by ship Columbus. The last captors re-labelled the bird aud set it Iree once more.

Must have seen something in his time that albatross, eh ? Must have viewed some strauge (sights as with wide Prions he swept through mid air, or circulated over the crests of the whitc-oapi**l waves ! If he thinks, he must have thought strange thoughts when, wj.li vast wings folded, he rested on the never-resting billow. Many grim war fleets and slow-lumberiug old-time merchantmen he has followed, no doubt, lie must remember the introduction of steamships; was present, ’tis likely, at many wrecks ; has heard the cries of drowning men and shrieks of drowning women, Serenely sailing aloft ho has looked down on many dead faces upturned to the sun. VV hat comets, falling stars, lightnings, meteors, have gleamed upon and around him ! What glorious sunrises and murky sunsets have been mirrored iu his calm bright eyes, and what ghastly secrets of sea murder and mutiny are photographed upon his brain 1 Many a time and oft has the phantom “ Flying Dutchman ” loomed upon him from out the grey storm mist, and the fires of St Elmo have played upon his feathered head ! And what acquaintances he must have made ! To him the great sea serpent is no myth, and monstrous whales, savage sharks, ghostly .fish, mermen and maids are as familiar as household words to us. No doubt he would and he could tell us the secrets of that warm Southern sea beyond the ice. Maybe he has sat sphinx-like upon the Antarctic pole itself!

Caught 45 years agone! Caught ere many of us were born ; and if ho be captured again 45 years hence most of us will be dead. It is humiliating to reflect that should that albatross betaken and let go in 1932 all our “ great statesmen,’’ ml our costly “ patriots,” all those “ Saviours of their country ” who are now prancing about with patent political fads and nostrums will be dead, buried—and forgotten; while the soulless albatross, still circling, brave, strong, and free, ’neath the azure empyrean, will look down upon another race of pigmy men, caring so little about them that he only languidly distinguishes a premier from a pollienawk, and is not able to distinguish “ A journalist who does not pretend to be free from error ” from an anointed ass.

Another Wellington Professor of the Pill Box and glorified Knight of the Festal and Mortar has signified his intention of “ coming oat ” as a candidate for the fourth Wellington seat. This is Ur Cole. The doctor is supposed to be no relation to the old king of the same name, because there is nothing merry about him. He is a rather funereal sub* ject indeed, and is not expected to “ come out” very far. Dr Cole is principally remarkable for occasionally driving about in a delapidated buggy, garbed in a martial crimson coat and a cocked bat several sizes too large for him. He is the medico who published recently a testimonial in favour of another hero of the jalap cnp, who declined said testimonial —without thanks. Dr Cole is the kind of gentleman whose virtues stir the latent poesy within us, and so, with a stethjocoplc accompaniment, we sing ;

“ They do not love thee, Dr Cole, And so they’ll teach thee at the poll, For this we know, that in their soul They do not love thee, Dr Cole.

But, Groat Scott! what do all those doctors and lawyers want in Parliament, aud what do we want with them thero P Surely, just now, if ever, wo require men v, ho know something of the needs of the country, something of laud, settlement ' aud agriculture; men who know more >bout bush falling than about antibillious pills or fieri facias. Already the House swarms with lawyers who know how to ruin us ; presently, at this rate, it will swarm with doctors, we will know how to poison us ; all wo shall thou need will bo a small assortment of clergymen to bury us. When a doctor or a lawyer has a good practice ho very seldom cares to become a professional ]>alitician, and when either a lawyer or a doctor, as a general rule, puts up for Parliament, 1 am disposed to regard him as one who, unable to manage his own business, yet aspires to manage ours. In all this 1 make no reflection on Dr Cole, however, who has 1 believe a very fjood practice, if ho is wise he will stick to it. He is not cut out for politician.

A Sydney paper tolls us a story relating to Sir Robert Stout and his teetotal proclivities. Sir Robert, recently dining at the table of a British Adnural, was offered wine. Said the Premier, in that markedly virtuous and l-am-a-superior. sort-of-young-man manner : —“ Thanks. I don’t drink wine ! ” “ Right! ” roared the jolly Admiral, “ You’re one of my sqrt, Steward, give Sir Robert and me Irandy ! "

MY BUNNY!

Last week 1 noticed the remarkable t fleet the mere name of Bunny had on c ur little ‘ Observer ’ friend, sending him c if into wild war screeches of scurrility. The name has au extraordinary influence over another Wairarapa journalist also, as the following extract from the Wairarape Star proves

“ Mr Henry Bunny, the be o of a bundle fights in the \t*iraiaga. who fits utvvr deserted his old love, is going to woo tht •lectors of Wairarsps South." But compare the ‘ Observers’ ’ »• H O G. ” article of June 18 with this extract! The ‘ Star ’ does not dilate cm •• pig styes.” or on “ gruutiug,” or threaten to make “ fine sawdust " of any one, or to put a “ riug through his impudent nose," as the ‘ Observers ’ do. No! though the * Star ’ is in Mr Buuny’s interest also, it maiutivius that lofty and gentlemanly tone for which it is so celebrated. There is uo vulgarity about the ‘ Star !’ The ‘ Star ’ is poetical; the ‘ Star ’ is romantic ; the ‘ Star ’ is amatory ; the * Star ’ is replete with sweetLess, tone aud light, but coarse never. "The hero of a hundred fights!” There is romance for you! The great Sir Walter Scott himself could not have beaten the simple, thrilling eloquence of that sentence. lifer afterwards 1 shall think of " My Bunny ! ” reverently, as the “ hero of a hundred fights.” Mr Bunny was, I believe, a lawyer. Ah ! we know where those heroes carry their scars. Then, again, “He ne'er deserted his old love ! " Has Tennyson anything sweeter than this r 1 can almost fancy "My Bunny 1 ” thus addressing Wairarapa South " I could uot love thee, deer, eo much, Loved I uot boom more." While the poetical * Star ’ editor wiped the tear of saccharine sentiment from hie eye. The reader will remark also that " My Bunny ! ” is uot going " to appeal to the electors,” or to “ come out" for the district, or " stand ” for it. No ! such brutal commonplaces might suit the ‘ Observers,’ but the ‘ Star ’ beautifully puts it otherwise and tells us that “ My Bunny ! ” is going “ to moo the electors of Wairarapa South.” Happy! Happy Wairarapa! Thou at least need uot eing “ There’s nobody coming to merry me, Nobody coning to woo.” Because “ My Bunny’s ” coming to woo. Will be iced ! Ay ! There’s the rub. Shakespeare said ; “ Men are April when they woo, December when they wed.” Aud it is just possible that fair Wairarapa South may uot care to be an “ old man’s darling.” But let her remember that “ My Bunny! ” has “ never deserted her” Never! What, never ? Wei!— har-dly—ever! True, in ’B4 he contested Thorndm, aud true he was beaten by Dr Newman, aud true also that before the beating he vowed to Thorudou he would never de-iert her aud promised her he irouM desert Wairarapa. But what of that! Men are deceivers ever, and the ‘ Star ’ editor is a poet, and | poets are not going to be Ucd down by 1 vulgar facts.