LIFE IN THE CITY.

Wairarapa Daily Times, Volume XVI, Issue 6111, 13 December 1898, Page 3

LIFE IN THE CITY.

I.lfo la a journoj-: on ire go Thtongh mmy a lew ol jor and woo. —Combe. Tbt Week's Semathn-PiiUie, Opinion-A ■ Forliiiiafe hmiknl-Ikarlmuiiwj Scenes -■Presence 0/ Mml-A Darinq LcapT/ie lYmt.o/ Etomrs-l'elly Lartemj—Christmas Presents Embarras ile Mchetses-Tico Automatic Advertisements 3fel«ir(imn JTcro Boob Afoul the Weather. WeuilKoton, Monday, Thero is but ono topic of conversation at present in Wellington, the great fire that occurred on Saturday morning which resulted in the death of two men. The crowds that gathered all day around the ruins were volublo and vehement, and one could not help overhearing, as

oho passed along the streot, indignant 1 opinions voiced on tho want of proper qjtliancei for escape from fire in the itself, and on the futility of the efforts made by the lire brigades, whose central station is only nest door to the destroyed building. Apparently the bedrooms were not furnished with ropes and the one fire escape was inadequate, and peoplo are blaming severely the P?rß6n9 responsible for this. We are supervised in these days almost out of cxistenco, and it seems extraordinary that a hotel of such importance as this, where men and women literally, when thoy fall asleep, put their lives into tho hands of the management, should not bo safeguarded from fire in evory way. Had it not been for Mr O'licgan the loss of life would have beon terrible!

Never again shall I viow tho mombor .for Inangalma's fluency in the same plight, for it was tho means 011 Saturday morning of saving many valuable lives. Ho had been

" reminiscing" with an old West Coast friend in a room downstairs. Several people had looked in and chaffed him about sitting up late, though, indeed, it was only half-past twelvo o'clock. At the time the barmaid, in her nightdress, rushed along tho passage, ho and his friend had been joined by two others. Following the shrieking barmA, Mr O'Kegan rushed upstairs, Hysterical and beside herself, she dashed into a bathroom and refused to go downstairs, whereupon ho simply bundled her down and out on to the footpath, MrO'lteganandthercstoftho men who wore up and the servants did splendid servico, wakening tho sleeping people, and it was marvellous how quickly all were got out savo tho two poor fellows who wero burnt.

AtThorndon end no one knew any thing about the lire till the morning paper or the milkman brought the news, Even those who were working till past the time of tho lire hoard no bells, People Hvingontho Terrace slept through it all. Those who saw the firo describe it as magnificent. The flames rose to a tremendous height and the heat was intense and actually felt on the side of Mt. Victoria. It burnt somewhat in the same way as Hayman's firo did, confined as its was by the brick casing, and the whole town was illumined by the glare. Those who wero near enough to seo the terrible scene, say it was heartrending, The white forms crowding at the windows waiting for tho help that seemed an eternity before it reached them, for in moments like those a second is a year in suspense and anxiety. Across tta narrow street, women looking on fjpk the opposite windows, hardly thinking of their own danger if the fire wero to spread, wero weeping piteously at the terrible sight and the, helpless figures, and shrieks and cries and tho roar of the flames and hiss of the water made a fearful medley of sound, to be romembered for ever by thoso who heard it, It took a strong man to keep a calm head iu such a hideous turmoil, and yet there wero instances of wonderful coolness, One boarder-an American —finding noothcrcseapepracticablc, got out on his window-sill, shut down the window, and waited for help. "It was a very close thing, wasn't it ?" asked someone who had watched the smoke and flame behind the window where the American sat far above the hprrilied crowd. " Oh, no," replied he coolly,'' I reckon I had about ten minutes to spare. Down below the crowd kept screaming" Don't jump! don't jump!" "I hadn't the least intention of jumping." We went to see the place where tho man made his sensational leap from. It looked a tremendous height, that glassless window, three storeys up, through which the blue sky could be seen, and where a hose was stilt playing, Only courage born of desperation could have taken such a leap, for the little shed was not oven below, but someway to the right, jfcjras a marvellous escape, and as one srood there, in the fair daylight, it was difficult to realize that such a deed, eyen to save a lifo, was possible,

It is a most melancholy sight, the once fine block of buildings. Some of the ornamentation in the main hall is still intact, and the big lamp that faces the Opera House is untouched, its glass not even being broken. In the bar jbottles and glasses are still standing on the shelves, and in ono bedroom, at the very end can be seen a wardrobe and a scorched curtain. Otherwise all is a hideous confusion of burnt wood and ruined brick, and, judging from the result, the fire must have burnt as in a pent furnace,

Truly, this is the time of (lowers. Halt the folk one sees arc bouquetladen, and as one passes along some of the pleasantcr streets—whore the houses stand in fair garden-spaces-whiffs of perfumo float across the hedges. The very children, trudging to school, carry propiatory offerings to allay preceptorial wrath in their hot, sticky little hands. Tho. flower shops are feasts of colour. yjm beautiful of all the blossoms just norare the sweet peas. These are to be got in wonderful colours, ethereal violet, delicate cream, and pale roso, and make a delightful table decoration with some feathery grasses, One of the fibwer-shops to-day had a beautiful harp entirely composed of pink sweet peas massed and clustered together for the frame, slender gold wires forming the strings. There is much juvenile depredation going on in consequence of the gaiety of the gardens, and it is no uncommon thing to rise in the morning and find your choicest flowers ruthlessly torn up by the roots and carried away, And the offenders do not confine themselves to pilfering from gardens, They are, like Autolycus, " pickers-up of unconsidered trifles," mi a toy or a tool is quietly annexed by them in their peregrinations, Thoy are mainly boys who are so indifferent to tho meum and the titum of property, and boys, too, who are not, apparently, in want of food or clothing, so that their stealing does not arise from necessity. Quite lately a great block of wood was thrown through a large plateglass window of a room in which, fortunately, thero .was no one sitting, It was a,specimen.of the way in which some employ their idle hands, prompted byTfaton.

The "Wellington shops are full of presents, and you must be indeed difficult to please if you cannot find in them something to' suit your taste. It is a hugo mistake to enter a shop when bent on buying a present unless you have your mind made up. You are almost certain to come out of it—tlio shop, not your mind—with somethuiK entirely unsuitable. Those who haw read Ahoda Brougliton's" Nancy" will remember the birthday present the family bought—after serious andaasious consideration—for the father, a terrible old martinet. A travelling-bag was purchased, and ono of tbe girls deputed to repeat a nice little speech as it was handed over. But, when the stern paternal eyo was on her, all she could say was "Fa-Father,hero's a bag!" aad make an exit suddenly. And the parent thanked them with pathetic g/avily, and added "You are award never travel." It was possibly a hint to begin. Two automatic advertisements in the -Mp generally have three or four Twplo gaeing at them. One is in a hatters and clothier's window, and is a little figure with a grotesque clown's head, capped with the usual ridiculous hat very much at an angle. In its hand is a large fan, and beside it stands a black die of large size. With curious deliberation the fan is brought up till it conceals the head, and when it is lowered again, the figure is headless. But the top of the die lifts up, slowly, and there is the missing head eying you with an idiotic leer. Up goes the fan, tho _ head sinks down into the die, and in a second or two, the figure bas-got its head on its shoulders again. A tobacconist's Lata weird plump pink hand that, waving n fat index finger up and down behind the glass, directs tho passer-by's attention to a superior brand oi cigars, henry's Dramatic Co. are at present arthe Opera House and doing good business. As usual, virtue triumphant

and vice defeated was tlie tliorao of the melodrama on Saturday night, and a full pit applauded to tho echo every virtuous sentiment, I suppose if vice came out uppermost, as it does sometimes in real life, the play would not suit the British public It loves to lmvo its feelings harrowed till tho last acl, and then tho villain is hanged or commits suicide or otherwise disposed of. "Tho Factory Girl of Sydney" has a don blo proportion of villains,a fat one and a thin one, and the former is much the worse of the two. One can feel not the least sympathy for his stolid crime. As a rulo the stage villain is dark and slender, probablybccaußchispredecessor Mophislophelos was framed that way. There is no lack of interest in the performances of the Company, and the comio clement is at times most amusing which is not by any means always the case,

Hclbeck of Dannisdale~Mrs Humphrey Ward's new book-will be a fascinating volumo to those who like more than a mere talo with which (0 pass an idle hour. The strong man, rigid in his Catholic faith and outwardly stern anil ascetic, yet full of tender feelings and kindliness, is a fine character; and Laura, the dainty, vehement girl with whom hatred is akin to love, is exquisitely conceived. Another new book by Florence Marryat," An Angel of l'ily" is clever, but somewhat gruesome, for tho very charming heroine marries a doctor who is, unknown lo her, a viviscctionist, and the book contains one or two scenes that are horribly realistic. Another story that I can iccommend is "At the Cross-roads," by P, F, Montresor. If you have not read another work of hers " The One Who Looked on." ygu will bo well-pleased with it. Miss Montrosor has a delicate skill in character-drawing, and though there are touches in the book distinctly feminine, the strength and vigour of the story are what men call masculine. If "At the Cross roads" is tucked into your trunk when you go a-holiday-inaking.you will find no cause to regret the room it occupies.

Talking of holidays, what hot weather we have been suffering under of late, and what a warm summer is said to be ahead. Cotton dresses, cool drinks, and open windows aro tic rigeur, and yet a general limpness is prevalent, and people say they feel like a bit of chewed rag or wet blotting-paper. In this weather a certain latitude of language should be allowed to those mcu who are stout and bald and tho recording angel would do well to blot out with a tenr any vituperations caused by heat or flics. At a large afternoon tea the other day we were all very warm indeed, notwithstanding the kindly care of our hostess, aud one lady sang a ballad—with tho utmost pathos of expression—that ended in the refrain, "Don't forget to love mo in the shade." It was with difliculty I kept my gravity, but the rest of the audience were seriously listening, and I postponed my laugh at the coincidence.