STRAIGHT TALK

Fair Play, Volume I, Issue 14, 3 February 1894, Page 1

STRAIGHT TALK

The Wcmgcmui Chronicle is certainly straight-out enough in its defence of Mr. Maxwell, and its disapprobation of his dismissal from the Railway Commission. There can be no mistaking its meaning when it uses language of the following somewhat lurid style:—“ After much threatening, Mr. Maxwell has been dismissed at a moment’s notice from the Railway Service, because he knew more about railway management than any other two men in the colony. Mr. Maxwell’s unpardonable sin was that he knew too much, and that in spite of protests and opposition he acted upon his knowledge. He was too good for New Zealand. No Minister of the Crown, no member of Parliament, no deputation of business men or working men, commercial chamber or farmers’ association, could force concessions from him unless his knowledge and judgment approved. Had Mr. Maxwell fawned upon Mr. Seddon his position would have been perfectly safe. The Premier would have been glad of his great knowledge and experience, provided ,he could have used it for his own credit and for the carrying out of his own plans.” We don’t agree with all that the Chronicle says, but there is certainly a leaven of truth in its assertions that runs through the paragraph like a streak of lean through a particularly fat piece of bacon.

A Christchurch contemporary devotes a leading article in a recent issue to the stupid custom of obliging every witness called in court to give evidence, to go through the nauseous ceremony of pressing his or her lips to a book, contact with which may carry contagion of the foulest disease. Prom a commontense as well as a medical point of view, this antiquated compulsory procedure is both absurd and disgusting. The solemnity of an oath to any person of ordinary intelligence is in no-way enhanced by its observance, and as for the man whose lack of

intelligence is his most prominent characteristic, the formality is meaningless, for he will lie as quickly after being sworn as he would otherwise. Court bibles are proverbially unclean, for the same book is used by.'the unwashed loafer as by the cleanly and innocent girl; by the athlete glorying in his perfect health and strength'as by the outcast rotting with ah unmentionable disease; Physicians tell us that disease can be conveyed from one to another by the 1 mere handling of bank notes or even placing cards that have passed through infected hands; that bacilli will adhere to these articles and poison those who mokes use of them. Only a shbrt tune since a microsoopio investigation was made'in .London of a comparatively new set of playing cards, and it viras found that almost every one contained a greater or less number of live bacilli, each one capable of spreading disease and death. If this be the oase (and it is vouched for by the best medical authority) how many thousand times greater is the risk of contagion, in pressing the more sensitive membrane of the lips to a substance that beyond the shadow of a doubt in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred reeks with the germs of disease and filth. A mother may inoculate her innocent babe with some filthy disorder, a husband may ruin his young wife's health for life and all for what? Simply to preserve an obsolete, fanatical, superstitious, and we may almost say in the face of its evil possibilities, idiotic custom that outrages common decency, and breaks every sanitary law for the preservation of health and cleanliness. By all means give ub back the rack or any other means of mediceval torture, to extort a confession of the truth; it would at least only injure the one person, and not make him a vehicle of disease, a distributing depot for all the loathesome ills that flesh is heir to.

Who was the “influential” (as per N.Z. Times) member who wired the Premier “ congratulate you and the country upon having dethroned the Railway Kings." Ten to one it was “He Hem "or Hogg the Hawful J . ; ,

The Hon. Major William Jukes- Steward, of Ashburton, is the son of William Steward. He was born at Reading in 1841, and arrived in New Zealand in 1862. Mr. Steward was connected with journalism early in life, and is at present the proprietor of the Ashburton Guardian and the Ashbwrton Mail. He first became a member of Parliament in 1871. From 1871 until 1875 he represented Oamaru, but since 1881 he has been member for the Waimate district. He was first elected Speaker in 1891. He holds his rank as Major in the local forces. In general appearance Mr. Steward is tall and slender with a long “Father Christmas” style of beard and a thoughtful far-a-way expression in his eyes that is suggestive of an intense longing to find a rhyme for some particularly difficult word, for Mr. Steward lays claim to be considered a poet and has published a number of verses in his own and we believe occasionally in other papers. He also brought out a book of poems entitled “ Carmina Varia,” under the nom deplume of Justin Aubrey. The active politician who writes poetry (except in France) is, as a rule, a rarity, and yet we have two specimens in Australasia. Sir Henry Parkes in New South Wales toys with the muse, and Mr. Steward in New Zealand pours a stream of rythmic loveliness forth for the delectation of his friends and admirers. It is true that at times rude critics have found fault with his productions. It is easy to analyse but hard to create. It is doubtful whether Mr. Steward will be re-elected Speaker, as there is a strong party in favour of the nomination of Sir Maurice O’Rorke for the position.

The local Herrin and Tattie Club celebrated Burns’ anniversary last week with a big spread at Host Johnston’s, the Waverley. There were similar festivities in otl er leading towns in the colony. At Dunedin “ a sma’ glass ” used by the genial Babbie, was on exhibition. Babbie was over-fond at time of a “wee dram,” but his great weakness was a “wee lassie " and a comely one at that.

The Scots in this colony are not alone in their patriotism, in their desire to do honour to the land of their birth. In America and Canada Burns celebrations are held, and are attended by many wealthy and influential people. In this connection we notice there has recently been a curious incident at Ottawa. It appears that a number of patriotic Scots had gone to the trouble of importing a barrel of real Scottish heather. On this the customs authorities, presumably not Scotsmen, but sticklers for the supposed dues, levied a duty. Then there was a rare rumpus, dozens of letters in the papers and great indignation. The “ clans,” however, came off victorious in the end and the much loved heather was admitted free and adorned the banquet table at a great Scottish dinner.

The incident of course found its way into the Scottish papers, and a correspondent to whom we owe the above information, has asked us to reprint some verses which appeared on the subject in a Glasgow paper recently. We gladly comply with the request of our Scots friends and these are the verses

And wha’ wad daur tae put a tax On oor Scottish heather ? My certes, they’re no’ blate. But stop, It maun be a blether, For wha but fules wad ever think O’ taxin’ Scottish heather ?

It grows on bonnie Scotian’s hills And covers them wi’ beauty: It grows upon her breezy muirs, But there it pays nae duty— Wha but fules wad ever think O’ taxin’ Scottish heather ?

Free as the stormy win’s that blaw Aboot oor mountain taps; It grows, an’ wha wad daur tax it Wad dootless get sair raps— Wha but fules wad ever think O’ taxin’ Scottish heather ?

On bonnie Scotian’s hills so gran’ The purple heather blooms, An’ on its wide an’ breezy muirs, On which the muirfowl croons— Wha but fules wad ever think O’ taxin’ Scottish heather ?

There is some very filthy stuff sold as sausage meat in some of the Wellington shops, and it behoves people this hot weather to be careful what they eat in this line. The other day a friend of ours took some sausages home for supper. His wife and himself partook of them, and were taken horribly ill during the night, violent vomiting and other equally disagreeable features being the result. Sausages are proverbially “ bags of mystery,” but these particular bags contained something which was not only mysterious but decidedly unhealthy. Mayor Fish, of Dunedin, contends that inspection of meat shops and sausage factories is very necessary in that city, and we are 1 inclined to think that similar inspection is required here.

The Salvation Army has a curious way of impressing the public with its desire to promote the religious welfare of the community. On Friday last on the arrival of the two Indian members of the organisation, a procession passed through Willis street that reminded one more of a small circus parade, or an advertisement for “ Monkey brand Soap," than anything else. First came six or seven Salvation Army lasßes, walking in single file with Banidwich boards on their backs, advertising the arrival of the converted heathens. These were followed by the ex-heathens in an open trap, dressed in a fantastio manner, and accompanied by a big brass drum, and a couple of brass instruments on which the players performed in the regular circus style, at short intervals. On the sandwich boards were mottos of the following description : “ Kum to the meetings,’ “ Indian soldiers of Jesus,” &c., &c. Surely such an exhibition as this goes far to prove the assertion that the general tenor of the proceedings of the Salvation Army is a travesty on religion of any sort. That which is held sacred by moßt men should not, if believed in by its exponents, be flaunted before the public gaze in such a comically theatrical manner. Such exhibitions are much more liable to arouse ridicule and contempt than any more serious emotion.

Two letters in Burns’ handwriting were shown at the Dunedin gathering. One, addressed to a Mr. White, ran as follows: Like that poor Caitiff, Satan, luckless weight, Sore-tired am I with wandering here and there; But by the time the day gives way to night I’m thine, command me, name the then and where. The other letter, “an excuse for not attending drill.” It runs thus:— Captain Ferman, of the R.D. Volunteers. Dear Sir, —Necessity takes me out of town to-day, and I fear I will not have it in my power to attend drill to-night. Yours, as in duty bound, R. Burns. We wonder if the necessity which made Rob. neglect his drill was an appointment with a pretty wenoh. It’s long odds on it.

The following cable is grimly humourous in its suggestive force“ Major Goold-Adams, with 500 men and four Maxim guns, is starting to bury the remains of the members of Captain Wilson’s detachment.” This is the first tune on record that we have heard of a military funeral being conducted with the aid of four Maxim guns and a heavily armed detachment. It sounds more like a modernised version of the way in which a monarch of Dahomey would conduct the funeral of one of the members of the Royal Family. It is evidently intended that a sacrifice of human blood shall be made to the ma/nes of the dead European soldiers and Major-Goold Adams has been appointed sacrificial high-priest. “ God save the Queen.”

So Kaiser Wilhelm, with all his pig-headed obstinacy, brutal pomposity, and divinely-inspired utterances, has at last evidently come to the conclusion that in undertaking to rule the German Empire all by himself, he has taken a bigger contract in hand than he was able to carry, and the consequence is a tardy recognition of the ability of Bismarck and a public reconciliation. It is stated that even the opponents of the exChancellor in the Reichstag heartily applauded the announcement that the Emperor and the Prince had made up their differences. Now- what this reconciliation means is a difficult thing to.figure out, and whether the peace of Europe will be better preserved by the autocratic and attunes most erratic actions of

William the 11, than by the iron-handed inexorable rule of Bis* marck, is a question that is open to debate. Bismarok, notwithstanding his statesmanlike attributes, is a man whose opinions and prejudices are as unalterable as the traditional laws of the Medes and Persians, and his evident return to power or at leost his near approach to it is a matter for grave consideration for the diplomatic bodies of Europe.

Surpluses are all very fine, but it’s a bad sign for th colony’s exports to be decreasing, as is shown by the admirably compiled figures published by Mr. Carroll in the Trades Review. A falling off of .£624,000 on the North Island exports, os compared with 1892, is no laughing matter. The fact that the bottom is clean out of the flax trade has, of course, a good doal to do with it, but when one learns that the export of beef from the North Islaud was nearly five million pounds weight loss than in the previous year, it is easy to see where the trouble is. Less exports mean less money coming into the country, and eventually, if this state of things continues, very sorious depression in general business.

One consequence of the scurvy way in which the Railway Commissioners were treated is that the colony will lose the services of Mr. Maxwell altogether. Like other good men— Carruthers, Knorph and Blackett—he will soon be off to another country. We hear that it is very possible he may go out to South America to supervise some big railway contract undertaken by an English firm. The three ex-New Zealanders mentioned above are, we believe, connected with the English firm in question. We seem to drive away all our best men. Alison South and Back might be mentioned in addition to those named above.

A new dodge of the " played out pro.,” the duffers of th theatrical profession, is to have a lot of flash posters printed announcing the appearance of a wonderful array of marvellouslynamed and talented artists, fwhose existence is but the fiction of an imaginative brain. Armed with these posters two or three seedy, beery, “ cronk ” showmen set off and placard plentifully the country townships. The yokels—unsuspecting souls —roll up, when they find that the show is a complete fraud. As only “ one night stands ” are played by these “ snide ” shows, the word that the show is "no good” can’t be passed on in time to save the next township from the swindle, and the "frauds’’ manage to make a very decent thing of it.

Occasionally, however, as was the case at a township on the Manawatu line a few nights ago, the audience turn very rusty and proceed to make things very unpleasant for the " snide ” lot. In this case the audience pelted the “ performers ” —save th mark —with ancient hen-fruit, and cleared the stage in the quickest time on record. The " frauds,” however, had the admission money and that was all they wanted.

The champion mean man —or the latest good claimant to that unenviable title—has been found at Auckland. A poor woman picked up a big pocket book outside the Post Office in that city the other day, and took it to the counter olerk, who, upon examination of the contents, found the book contained £64, principally in sovereigns. Later on in the day the book and its valuable contents were claimed by a person dressed as a parson who, on being told that " a lady had found it,” hastily observed “ Then of course I cannot offer her anythhjg,” ah|t made off as Quickly as possible. And yet we suppose this foreign itself is a man, and no, doubt too,; a gentleman l. \ *{■