Topics of the Week

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XII, Issue V, 3 February 1894, Page 98

Topics of the Week

SAVING that'the passion for suicide, to which we alluded last week, has shown a tendency to inctease, the events and news of the past week, so far as this colony is concerned, have been of the mildest order. The summer weather appearing to have set in for good, and the much discussed Railway Commissioners’ matter being settled, there is a lull in the political as well as the social atmosphere, and the result is that there is a dead calm in the papers, and journalists generally are, so to speak, in the doldrums. The average man is not inhuman, but he nevertheless regards himself as somewhat imposed on when there is, in his own phrase, • nothing in the papers,’ this meaning, of course, no troubles, no murders, no sensational swindling scandal, no gigantic future, feaiful tire, or dreadful disaster. A dull morning and evening paper mean gocd times, however, and the advertisements and birth, death, and marriage columns always seem a perfect literary feast to a fair slice of the community. It seems altogether unreasonable to begin thinking of next Christmas almost before the taste of last year’s pudding is out of our mouths, but it is nevertheless necessary to announce that the usual prizes will be given for competition stoiies this year, and that the prize story, if of sufficient meiit, will appear in the Christinas number of the Graphic next December. The length of the stories, it will be noticed, has been reduced to five thousand words. We would advise some of last year’s competitors, should they compete again, to sketch the plan r.f their story, wiite it out in the rough, and then, if necessary, reduce. Last year quite half the stories began like three-volume novels, with the natural result that the middle and end of the story had to be squeezed into half or quarter their right space in order that the story might be brought within the prescribed number of words. The number of stories sent in last year was very great, but the quality was not such as need alarm amateurs ‘ with an idea* who may perchance make it into a story. The painful lack of originality, and the careless and slipshod style of the m»j >rity of competitive manuscripts received last year must surely indicate that many of the right people—people who could write a story if they on'y took the trouble —were not competing. Let no one be afraid to attempt a story because they are not clever enough. They are mine than, probably very much more, likely to be successful than they imagine, providing always that they are careful and put their best work into the affair. Many of those who have contributed to former competitions have apparently imagined themselves geniuses able to rattle off a story good enough for the prize in a couple of hours or so. Only on this assumption can we understand the incredible carelessness and badness of one or two stories received, and alas! read. Mis spelt, in villainous writing, and execrable English, some of these effusions would have disgraced a child in the Fourth Standard. Another point, and a small one. Several of the very w >rst stories last year were written on paper some three feet wide. The task of reading such a manuscript may be better imagined than described. The work of reading through a dozsn or so of manuscript stories one after the other all daylong and day after d ty until the hundreds sent in are done is by no means easy under the most favourable circumstances, and it is rank bad taste as well as extremely poor policy to deliberately go out of the way to make that work harder. Even in the better stories few writers seemed to have been sensible of the value of ca'eful revision. Tnere was scaicely a story sent in that had not some staring fault

which must have been noticed and eliminated had there been a careful and conscientious, perhaps critical, revision. If a thing is worth doing at all it is worth doing well—a fact which many aspiiing but careless would-be contributors to this j inrnal appear to forget. Something too much of this, however. Our o>.j -ct in saying all this—it has taken far more space than was intended - has been to encourage new writers to cune forward by assuring them that the odds against which they have to compete are not, as yet, of an overwhelming order. By way of a hint we would suggest to amateurs that after having decided what they are going to tell their stoi v abont. and perhaps written it out in the rough, they should study several of the stories of the • masters ’ in the art of short story telling—Grant Allen, Sims, Kipling, Mrs Cliff >rd, and the others. They are easily obtainable. We do not mean that the style should be copied ; that would be a very large undertaking, but reading (with intention) one or two of these stories will give any intelligent person some sort of idea of how to arrange his or her story and how to cut down the padding to the smallest possible fraction. In the hope that the stories may be more numsrous and of better quality than last year we invite storytellers, amateur and otherwise, to set to work. Every story sent in will have earnest and judicial attention, providing bien. entendu that the rules are complied with. There were great rejoicings and merrymakings on board the German watsbip Buzzard on Saturday last, that being the birthday of that able, if somewhat headstrong, potentate, William the E nperor of Germany, and Kngof Prussia. The ship, which is at present in Auckland, was very smartly

dressed with bunting, and ceremonials and rejoicings were the order from a very early hour in the morning to a very late one at night. A thanksgiving service wb held on the quarter deck in the forenoon, there was a Wnquet in the middle of the day, and at eventide the men entertained their friends with a series of (Manx vivants, theatrical sketches, songs, etc., the whole moistened with most excellent and innocuous lager bier, and f rllowed by a dance. A great number of the men understand a good deal of English and speak a little, so that they progressed in their flirtations with all the speed that our own tars could have done. German youth and English beauty were but the briefest time in making friends, but the language of flirtation is the same all the world over, more or less, and expresses itself in silence, though, to be sure, there was a good deal of ‘ lip language ' on the German man of-war. It is greatly to be feared that the German Jack tar is as great a flirt and as faithless as our own universally loved •Jack’ ‘Don’t get too much in love with your partner,’ said an officer, laughingly, as we passed one particularly em/n-estf, couple, the sailor having j ist circled his fair partnei’s waist as they sat lovingly on a locker. ‘Oh no, sir,’ answered the rogue in German, with a twinkle of the eye, ‘ I have my own girl at Munich, you know.’ • What did you say!’ asked hi’ partner. ‘I tell him you more lovely than any girl in Munich,’ unblushingly leturned the tcamp. Some of the officers entertained a private party.

one of whom was the writer, and showed the guests over the ship and provided seats, whence could be watched the j rllification of the sailors and their lassies. In Wellington Anniversary Dry was this year an unex ampled success fiom the point of view of almost everyone. The sporting folk had excellent races at the Hutt. The sport was good, and the management, music, lunch, etc., were excellent. Mrs Ball, the wife of the President, presented the Cup winner with the trophy, and made a neat little congratulatory speech. Special trains ran, and were crowded all day. Then again, the regatta people could not have commanded better weather. Tne Penguin followed the races with a large number of spectators, and the fl igsbip was also crowded with people, and every place of vantage along the breastworks and on the wharves was made the most of by tho-e interested in the proceedings. There were likewise numbers of excursions made, the trains taking crowds of holiday-makers out into the country, and the steamers plied all day long between Lowry Biy and Wellington with picnickers. Altogether, indeed, the holiday was greatly enjoyed, chiefly owing to the glorious weather. In Christchurch at the threatre the other night the audience had a laugh other than those provided by the Brough and Brucicault Comedy Company. The gubernatorial party were to be present, and a few moments before eight the conductor, who had his eye anxiously on the dress-circle entrance, gave the signal and the band dashed with fervour into the National Anthem, the house rising to its feet, as is customary even in these very democratic times. But a chill seized the conductor, and the anthem trailed off into a lugubrious wail, for Io and behold there had been a mistake. Io wasn’t the Governor at all, but a private party. In the middle of the guffaw which followed this little farce •the right tiger,’ as Kipling says, entered, evidently much amused. S > confused were the band that they were only able to ru-h wildly at a few bars before the Vice regal party were settled in their seats. A good deal of interest has been taken in the celebration of the silver wedding of the H »n. R. J. Seddon, Premier of the colony, an 1 Mrs Seddon It was decided to give a dinner party in honour of the event at their home in Kumera. About half-past seven in the evening nearly one hundred guests and relations assembled, laden with warm congratulations and some handsome presents. The dining table looked exceedingly pretty, the prevailing tone of colour in the decorations being a soft shade of yellow. Ferns were deftly intermingled wi.h yellow flowers and tastefully draped lemon coloured silk, with here and there specimen glasses containing sunset roses. The mantelpieces, mirrors, corners of the room, etc., were all artistically draped with fltgs and hangings’ The catering was in the hands of Mr Ragg, an 1 was all that could be desired. Amongst the valuable presents which arrived from all parts of the colony, was a travelling case for Mr and Mrs Seddon from the Premier’s colleagues. Each artic e in the case had their monograms engraved, also on a silver plate on the outside cover. The guests and some of the handsome dresses worn appear in the letter. Auckland weather has for the last month been of the most perfect description, warm summer days with light, cool breezes and skies of deepest blue, but with the usual and perfectly maddening perversity of the providence that shapes our ends so far as the weather is concerned, Anniversary Day was squally, showery, and somewhat tempestuous—one of those days, indeed, when holiday makers are apt to console themselves with the philosophical reflection that it might have been worse. It was far from the ideal holiday weather, but it suited the yacht races excellently, and those events were watched with eager interest by large crowds of spectators on shore and on the flagship. The arrangements were much as usual, the starting was good, and attention to visitors on the flrgshrp fair. Still, when all is said and done the flagship is not the place to spend a happy day, n >r yet to see the racing to the best advantage. The big yacht race was a really exciting tussle, and the victory of the Viking was a surprise, albeit a very popular one. The owners are thoroughly good fellows, sportsmanlike and generous, and to beat the Sydney built crack was a victory worth scoring, and a victory that will be immensely popular in Auckland, doing credit to Mr Bailey and to the crew who sailed the Viking on this occasion. Mr Jerome K. Jerome agrees with Lavater, that yon can alter your feelings by your facial muscles. • Stick out the j vw,’ Lavater says, • and you feel determined at once.’ • I often do that myself, Mr Jerome remarked in the course of a talk about his work which appears in Castell't Fam Hu Magazine. ‘ The mu’cles have a distinct < fleet on the will power. It simply means that body and mind react on one another. Wag a dog’s tail to make hint goodhumoured. If you can make a man laugh against his will, his bad humour goes, dispersed by the muscles of laughter. You notice this often in the House of Commons.’ ‘I

always enter into my character's thoughts and feelings ; I can’t help myself.’ Mr Jerome further observed. ‘Mr Solonion in painting my portrait the other day, noticed that I happened to think of a murder in my story ; the savageness of it came into my face. and be bad to paint the expression over again, when my thoughts were of a more cheerful nature. I don’t work from my head, but from nry heart. For the time being lam the man lam describing. I could not possibly describe him and his doings in cold blocd.’ As to his career, Mr Jerome confesses that be had a pretty rough time of it at the outset. ‘ I began life in an < ffice ; then I quitted that for the work of a shorthand writer, a mere reporter, going to political, social, scientific meetings, and if I saw no one else there I would take notes, write them on a - flimsy,” and take them round to different offices’—the grnuine penny a-lirer.it may be remarked. ‘ A wretched life then, but splendid training.’ 1 Why don’t we adopt the decimal system ’’ asks one of the gentlemen who write to the newspapers. It is not one imagineshecauseof any difficulty in the way, but because of its easiness. The English speaking man hates doing easy things. He prides himself on speaking a language which not one in ten thousand can spell, and not one in twenty thousand pronounce properly. He will travel thousands of miles to find something to climb up. And even iu his old age he cannot be content to convey a golf ball from one point to another in the simplest manner-in his pocket; he must needs propel it, with swearings and sweatings, by means of an instrument elaborately designed to baulk his purpose. In the same way an Eng'ishman disdains simplicity in reckoning. He delights in obstacle-races across the multiplication tables. Twenty shillings = one pound. That is about the only bit of smooth country in the whole region of coinage, weights and measures. But the Englishman rides round to find a fence. It is too easy to reckon by twenties. So he ‘makes it guineas,’ and reckons by twenty-ones. The guinea is a much more gentlemanly sum than the sovereign. It is universal in all the more delicate relations of life. We pay our physician and our clergyman in guineas; our tailor, too, if he is a first-rate one. And it is in guineas that we subscribe to testimonials for our friends. The shilling at the end of the sovereign is like the E-q. after Smith. It gives distinction to the commonplace. And it satisfies our national craving for difficulty by complicating the addition. I really believe the average Englishman thinks the decimal system effeminate.