PARLIAMENTARY PICKINGS AND PECKINGS.

Fair Play, Volume I, Issue 25, 1 September 1894, Page 10

PARLIAMENTARY PICKINGS AND PECKINGS.

[By Jack Daw.]

Mr. Allen will be for ever memorable to New Zealand mankind as being the gentleman who administered a most terrible drubbing to Sir Robert “ Republican” Stout, in the supposed stronghold of the latter, Dunedin to wit. Mr. Allen is a pleasant mannered, quiet gentleman, but when he rises to dissect a Government Bill he is the “ mildest-mannered pirate that ever scuttled a ship.’’ Under that quiet style of his he conceals a determination which is peculiarly his own, and his criticism, always' fair, although at times slightly acidulated, is always listened to with attention by the House.

In by-gone Parliaments Mr. Allen used to be a great chum of ‘Mr. A. G. Rhodes, for whom, by the way, ho was often mistaken by the Strangers’ and Ladies’ Galleries. This mistake is not possible now, for the very good reason that Mr.

Rhodes lias “ gone under.”

Mr. Flatman possesses a name which admirably sums him up from an intellectual point of view. His oratory is as flat as the proverbial ditch-wator, and one wonders what sort of men and women are they who, in the Pareora constituency (the neighbourhood of Timaru) elected him as their spokesman in what Sir George Grey was wont to grandiloquently entitle the “ Council Chamber of the Nation.” Mr Flatman is an amiable individual, no doubt, but he is political mediocrity personsified. On a Eoad Board, may be, or a Hospital Board—his aspect is some-

what funereal —he might be at- home, but in the'House he is I “flat,’’ very, very fiat., However, he votes consistently and persistently -onl he Government side, and the Ministers love . “ flats.” Their majority is mainly composed of—let us pass on 1 i

“ Gotcheraircut ?’’ is, I hear, the familiar, not to say rude, exclamation of the small boys who occasionally hover round the House, when their juvenile optics rest for a moment on the chosen of Ashburton. Mr. McLachlan is a regular Esau in the way of hair. If politics fail him, and he loses his JG24O a year, the member, for Ashburton has no need to fear for a living, for I’ll: warrant there are “ Hair Vigor” Manufacturers who would always assure him a modest competence as a walking advertisement, more or less genuine,, of their wares. Beyond his

hairf which is “perfectly Papuan tike-in quantity, and a deep

guttural, wild “ Hielandman” kind of voice, there is nothing very noticeable about “ Ashburton.’’ Ashburton, as a town, is a flat, flabby sort of place, which only awakens to any apparent, similarity to “ life” on the occasion of a sheep sale, and on such an occasion I can easily imagine Mr. McLachlan to be in his glory, seated on a fence in the local “ yards" and discussing the relative merits or defects of Brown’s wethers or Robinson’s ewes. Whether the House may yet find that McLachlan is something more than a purely local “ poleteecian,’’ with a superabundance of hirsute adornment, I can’t say. So far, at least, Mr. McLachlan has not shown signs of developing into a Vogel, an Atkinson, or even—the drop is great—into a McKenzie! But time and the barber can work wonders. When the McLachlan-gets his hair cut, who knows what marvellous evolution may take place ?

Messrs Houston and Carncross sit close together. The elect of the Bay of Islands has the loot of a - worthy son of toil, jigged out in his Sunday go-to-meetings,” and, truth to tell, there is a strong suspicion of the local preacher about Mr. Houston. "When he rises to address the ’Ouse, for, like the immortal He Hem, his contempt for the aspirate is most marked, one infallibly expects him to prelude his remarks with “ Dear Brethren,” instead of the recognised Mr. Speaker.” His general style of speech is that of a fat, large-footed person, who shines at Y.M.C.A. meetings, and who possesses a moderate capacity for dreary

moralising, and, incidentally, for the consumption of greasy pastry. Truly,, he is a ' worthy successor of the famous “ Pious Hobbs,’’ who in days gone by used to sit for the “ Bay,” where once whale catching and rum swigging were the leading features of the place, but which are now seldom spoken of.

Mr. Carncross is a dapper little man, whose appearance suggests the counter jumper, with his pert little *• wheeze” article?” But he is not a draper, but a real live journalist, the proprietor and editor—when he’s not in Wellington—of a “ buster,” known to local, very local, fame as the Taieri Advocate. In the Advocate, whenhe is ‘tohum’, as Mr Lovell puts it, Mr. Carncross annihilates Captain Russell, Mr James Mien, Mr “ Tam” McKenzie,, and other of the Opposition camp, with his satire and his sarcasm. He pounds the Opposition papers with statistics, and pelters them with figures in his self-ordinated task of proving that there is but one true and generous Liberal —which his name is Seddon —and but one honest and genuine, and patriotic and disinterested friend to the district—which is Carncross. At Wellington the Carncrossian star twinkles somewhat faintly. But Wellington’s not Taieri, and here, in the Empire City, people actually pass Mr. C. every day on Lambton Quay without breathlessly whispering “That’s the Advocate editor.” Occasionally—l will do the little man justice—he shows a slight trace of independence, and “ goes for” the Government measures with a frankness which would be. fatal to the Advocate's chance of Government advertising if displayed in the leading columns of that famousjournal. But the independence and the'frankness are only momentary, and although he may be bold for a few minutes he speedily collapses under the stern Seddoniah glance,'and walks as meekly , into.