TOPICS OF THE WEEK.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XII, Issue XIII, 31 March 1894, Page 290

TOPICS OF THE WEEK.

THE Easter holidays have come and gone after the manner of such things to the varying satisfaction of the participants On the whole the holiday appears to have been more satisfactory than usual. The weather all over the island seems to have been favourable to outdoor excursions, so the campers-out, yachtsmen, and picnickers generally had a pleasant time. The majority of less energetic mortals also appear to have derived pleasure from the holiday, but there is always a discontented appearance about business people after one of these enforced holidays. They mean increased work before and after, in order to compensate for the time lost, and one frequently feels inclined to doubt whether the game is worth the candle. There is, too, no doubt about the disorganising effect of ‘ a day off’-a fact we have remarked upon once before in these columns. There are few people, for instance, who do not cordially detest Monday as a working day, simply because they have ‘rundown’ on Saturday afternoon and Sunday, and one feels doubly irritable on tramping, bussing, or training it down to work on the Tuesday after a Monday bank holiday. Yet of all our holidays Easter is the most pleasant. There is more of it in the first place, and the time of year is infinitely more enjoyable than Christmas. The weather is cooler, and there are no tiresome family re unions—that most deadly form of boredom which makes Christmas a dreaded infliction in the eyes of many of us.

1* tssiNt; from generalities to particulars, the accounts of the holiday and the manner in which it was spent in the different towns and centres contain little out of the usual run. In Wellington Easter Monday was too windy to be really pleasant, but still pleasure-seekers were able to congratulate themselves on the absence of the downpour which seemed almost a certainty all day long. The churches of the Empire City were, by the way, in common with churches all over the colony, greatly patronised on Sunday, many non church goers being attracted by the Easter decorations, which appear to have been most elaborate and extensive in Wellington this year. In Auck land the holidays were graced by the most perfect weather possible. A whole fleet of yachts left the harbour, and there were scores of water excursions of every sort.

The excellent arrangements of the railway department in the matter of excursions to Rotorua and Okoroire was another cause for the exodus from Auckland. Both at Whakarewarewa and at Okoroire the hotels were more than full, but everyone appeals to have enjoyed tin outing immensely. But it was the Auckland race meeting, of course, which attracted the greatest number of northerners. The arrangements were, as a matter of course, excellent, and the usual compliments in which we join were bestowed on Mr Percival. Caterer McEwan was also worthily commended on all hands for the excellence of the luncheon provided. The music was of the usual order, and the sport more than toleratde. It will be noticed from the list of frocks in the Auckland letter that there was no falling oft in the smartness of the race dresses.

In Christchurch the weather was also magnificent, but sultry. A large number of people went camping, and there w-ere an unusual number of picnics. Sumner was, it may be imagined, full to ovei flowing, the beach being a joy that never appears to cloy. Hanmer Springs is further afield, but the place was full of visitors the whole week end. The race meeting was well patronised, but of this function we shall have more to say next week. As for Dunedin, excepting that theie was no rain, no news has come to hand as to how the holiday was spent.

A CORRESPONDENT writes from Wellington : • Perhaps this note should be sent to your Lady Editor, but I have heard so many persons commenting on the matter referred to that I thought the best plan to adopt would be to refer the question to the Editor, and let him deal with it as he has a mind to. How, or why is it (the question is) that the same identical people are mentioned in the ladies’ letters to newspapers time after time and yearafteryear as beingpresent atthis.that.ortheotherasserablyandnoothers’ Thedifferent dressesof the sameladies constitute the one eternal variation. Are there no other ladies, or if there be, don’t they—or do they—also wear dresses’ Are the ladies that are mentioned, mentioned because they are the best-looking, or the best dressed, or the most aristocratic, or democratic ? Are they the most talented, or the most highly educated ’ Are they the tallest, or the shortest, the most graceful, the most girlish, the most womanly, or the least affected ’ If one but knew the principle on which the selection was made, and so tenaciously clung to during (I may say) ages, one could go into the philosophy of the thing,and perhaps follow out a very interesting study. But at present all is dark around this mystery. Although lam putting the question to gratify the left-out-in-the-cold feminine mind, I can myself say that I haven’t overstated the matter at all. During the recent visit of the Brough and Boucicault Company to this city the dress circle of our Opera House was crowded night after night with new faces—and new dresses. It was pointed out to me, in journal after journal, that throughout the season the same ladies, and only the same, were mentioned in each ; the hundreds of others were not noticed once. That they wore dresses (and really nice dresses) I can vouch for. Perhaps there is an explanation of this ab struse problem.’ The difficulty of avoiding anything like cliques in the society letters is a problem which has presented itself over and over again to the editors of the New Zealand Graphic. The only solution of this intricate question which commends itself is that society people themselves should come forward and lend their aid towards the due representation in black and white of themselves and their pretty costumes, for it is a source of pain and grief to the ordinary contributors to society news that they are only human, and only possess one memory and one pair of eyes each. The chief centres of civilisation in this colony are rapidly increasing their population, and that population is, unfortunately, of a migratory nature. It is this constant change of residence, which is one of the difficulties our society correspondents have to contend with. Another is the rapid growth of our girls into young ladies with smart new frocks and dainty millinery, which all demand adequate description in a popular journal. Now, if those who certainly merit an equal place in this fashionable chronicle, and who are left out from circumstances over which the editors have no control, would kindly club together and send in their names and a brief description of their gowns, they would greatly oblige. One young lady might do it for herself and friends, signing her own name, in confidence, to the editor, not for publication, but as a guarantee of good faith.

It is almost a pity that so talented a violinist as Miss Bessie Doyle should have challenged comparison by declaring herself the equal of Lady Halle (Norman Neruda). Miss Doyle, is a great violinist, and a very beautiful one, but she can no more compare with Lady Halle than can her young pianist, a very clever young fellow, with Paderewski. One would never have dreamed of making a comparison, which would be more than usually unfair, but for the fact that Miss Doyle declared at the top of her programme that she shares with Laly Halle the distinction of being the greatest lady violinist of the world. Apart from this rather stupid bit of ‘ brag ’ on the part of this artist, there is nothing but praise due to Miss Doyle. If not yet a Lady Halle, she gives promise that she will be one before long. That she is the greatest lady violinist who has visited this colony is a certainty. Her playing is magnificent, and the two concerts given in Auckland have aroused the greatest enthusiasm. No more artistic violinist has visited this colony, and her physical gifts, her undeniable beauty of face and figure, are an additional attraction of considerable weight. Miss Doyle is fortunate, too, in the baritone of the little company who support her. Mr Mackenzie has a most excellent voice of great power, and sings as if he thoroughly enjoyed it. In the soprano she is hardly so fortunate. As a professional singer Miss Birch cannot be accounted a startling success. The company tour the island, and their concerts should be largely attended by musical people.

It must be a matter for deep thankfulness to all interested in the ornithological progress of the colony that at length that important and valuable bird, the morepork, is receiving due recognition in England. The English Graphic says:—*A rare Australian bird is now in the Zoo, that curious kind of goat-sucker known scientifically as Cuvier’s “podargus,” and popularly as the More pork from its peculiar note. It has a huge mouth, and can bolt a big mouse comfortably. The podargus is reckoned an unlucky bird, and it maintains its reputation by choosing tombstones as its favourite perch.* We are, of course, quite prepared to be swallowed up in the larger tract of land known as Australia. That New Zealand is a separate island has penetrated the brains of only a limited number of the inhabitants of Great Britain and Ireland. That its flora and fauna are the same as Australia’s is taken for granted. Io the case of the morepork, which we must henceforth call the podargus, the existence of New Zealand as one of its locales, is ignored, or more probably, unknown. This is only one ot the many slights that this very important colony is continually receiving at the hands of the mother-country.’ True, the Waitomo cavern has just been announced at Home, and astonishment and congratulation struggled for the mastery when our friends at the other side of the world realised that such natural beauties were actually visible and reachable in bright little Maoriland. We frequently hear of people who suffer from insomnia, and as no one reading this paragragh can be sure that he or she may not be the next victim of this distressing complaint, a remedy, or perhaps one should say an alleviation, should be hailed with enthusiasm. Perhaps it should first be stated—but this does not in any way discount the value of the suggestion—that the idea comes from America. The Yankees are marvellously ingenious, and possess remarkable inventive capacities. Better than this, they have the push and pluck to use them to advantage. But revenons a nos moutons. A smart society woman who is troubled with sleeplessness is ‘at home ’ two nights in the week to all her lady friends who are similarly affected. The guests appear in any sort of costumes they please, peignoirs, tea-gowns, bath-robes, or any respectable covering, in short. The lights are dim, the conversation low and dull in the extreme. Soothing music is to be rendered in one room, hot chocolate and light wafers are obtainable in another. Couches and easy chairs are scattered all over, and anyone is allowed to fall asleep whenever or wherever they please. As an improvement on the soothing music, which some people might find irritating, an unpopular preacher’s sermons might be procured, and read aloud at intervals, or discussions for raising money for church purposes might be started. The latter when announced as ‘ meetings for that purpose’ are always very badly attended, and are therefore, presumably, uninteresting. For a man’s insomnia party, cold water, gruel, no pipes, no cards, plenty of sermons, a little of the * Pilgiim’s Progress,’ a few wakeful babies to hush to sleep, etc , might prove adequate soporifics.

‘ Filthy lucre ’ cannot be so grimy an article after all as Scripture teacheth us to believe, else why do Christian congregations strain their inventive faculties to an extent bordering on the ridiculous in the effort to possess it. The newest departure (and one which certainly beats the record for ingenuity in, shall we say, religious money grubbing) is a scheme that rumour reports to have been set on foot by would-be shining lights of a certain suburban Presbyterian congregation. To explain would be what the grammar books call * useless circumlocution.’ Allow me to bequeath to posterity the eloquently concise and explicit epistle which lately emanated from the joint brains (?) of said shining lights, being transmitted on two respective sheets of note-paper, to two other shining lights:—‘Snowball to raise funds in aid of St. Stephen’s Presbyterian Church, Ponsonby. The funds of the above church having fallen Short [note the emphasis lent by a ‘cap’] during the last year, it has been decided to set rolling a Snowball. Firstly, you are earnestly requested to contribute the sum of one shilling by postal note, and enclose it in this letter to Mr . Secondly, you are requested to make two copies of this letter, putting on each the next number to that which is at the head of this letter ; also give your name and address on each copy and forward them to two friends. As soon as the number 12 has been reached the snowball will be stopped. If you are not able to do this, please send the letter you receive to Mr , as this will be the only way of knowing when the chain is broken. But please do not let it break in your hand.’

We have heard of respectable gambling institutions known as sales of work; we are not ignorant of the juvenile lottery bag that calleth itself a Christmas tree ; the man-trap baz.aar and sacred cantata are, too, too well-known commodities, but a snow-ball ! The name in itself is a marvel of appropriateness and tact, so suitable to our sultry climate, so suggestive of heavenly example which lavishes good gifts as generously as it showers the spotless snow. And there is humour, too, as everyone will observe who only ponders it long enough, in the idea of hurling this gentle, playful missile at the head of some cheerful giver, who will gal-

lantly respond, and forthwith project it at the cranium of another cheerful giver. The unfortunate part is, that when he has received several hundreds of the playful things from several hundreds of nearest and dearest friends within the course of one week (which his well-known character for liberality renders more than likely), to say nothing of expending quires of paper in the heroic resolve to pass on the odi— I mean touching appeal, the cheerful giver will be apt to make use of language resembling the climate in temperature, and relegate the snowball to a .place where snowballs are not. The bazaar is not misery pnre and unadulterated to unfortunate masculines, although it approaches precious near that melancholy standpoint. There are usually girls to flirt with, or candy to make oneself sick over, or forget-me-not buttonholes, or some other equally useful equivalent for hard cash. Again, the sacred cantata, though destructive to nervous constitutions, means only a shilling or two out of pocket—a reflection, like Cadbury’s Cocoa, both grateful and comforting. But the snowball—it possesses the vices of Tennyson’s brook, with none of its virtues. Sad that a message so pathetically worded as the above should excite remarks so forcible, but all sad stories have a moral, and this is the mural of the snowball: Be nobody’s nearest and dearest friend, avoid friendship at all costs, if snowballs are a-rolling. So shall ye escape tribulation.

When a feminine critic comes forward in the columns of a contemporary to point out the errors in men’s lawn tennis costume, she would seem to have considerable claims on onr attention, though by hiding her strictures in a paper— Hearth and Home— dedicated to the edification of her own sex, she does not go qnite the most obvious way to court it. It was really high time for somebody to give a hint to the gentlemen whom ‘ A Candid Eve ’ is in the habit of meeting in the tennis court, if indeed they • affect very smart sleeveless vests or jerseys of silk,’and play * in the presence of ladies with bare arms, neck arrangements of the most pronounced Byronic type, and nude ankles, about which their socks wobble.’

This is not the costume in vogue at tournaments, and we hesitate to believe that it is common at garden parties. In the early and experimental days of lawn-tennis a shortsleeved (but not • sleeveless ’) jersey or two were to be seen, bnt the fashion did not make friends, and we thonght that it bad become extinct. It was of one of the wearers that a lady remarked that he was presumably in his right mind but could not be said to be clothed—a specimen of the satire which is fatal to such eccentricities. This particular costume will not nowadays find defenders, and there is no necessity for its assailant to proceed to extremities, as she very nearly does in the dangerous argument * when women play tennis they do not divest themselves of half their clothes.’

Our fair critic has another grievance which, as far as we are aware, has at any rate a better foundation. It is that the lawn tennis player fastens (without secnring) ' the drapery about his lower limbs with a gaudy silk ecarf in place ot the more reliable but less decorative belt,’ and is thus compelled to resort from time to time to something like a nautical ‘ bitch.’ Now this very gaudy silk scarf is probably an attempt to conform to or imitate the Darwinian principle ; and it must be very disappointing to the wearers to hear that natural selection after all selects a belt. What is even worse is that the representative of the ladies actually thinks that ‘nothing is so becoming to a pink-and-white-faced Englishman as a fine white cambric shirt and grey flannel trousers.’

Is it for this that we discard our favourite undress, and don the easily spotted and shrinkable * whites ’ ? Who would have considered himself to be fully dressed even for a cricket match in grey trousers ? The article is accompanied by an illustration which supplements the dress described with a very tight-looking ‘ blazer,’ a cigarette, a chequered cap (peakless), and a stiff, white, stick-up collar. There are a few happy mortals who are not prevented by infirmities of the flesh from wearing such a collar and playing well in tournaments.

From Wellington a valued correspondent writes :— ‘ Everybody here is extremely gratified at the result of the licensing election. When I went into the booth to vote, a perplexed old lady with voting papers in her hand implored me to help her. All she knew was that she wanted to vote for the sake of the children, but how to do this she hadn’t the remotest idea. I knew what the poor woman meant, and was sorry that I could not help her in any legal way. Hundreds of voters, male and female, were in the same peculiar quandary. There were some eleven hundred informal papers. An immense and most surprising number voted for prohibition, and it is stated that fully two thirds of informal votes were papers of electors who desired prohibition. This I think very likely. They were mostly the votes of women, however. Everybody claims a substantial victory, and Sir Robert Stout appears peculiarly pleased. The Post saystl is rather pleased. The Evening Press is quite pleased. The Times says nothing at all, but on the whole is also pleased.

I understand a meeting is to be held next Wednesday to determine what is to be done with several returning officers, who also appeared enveloped in the same fog which obscured so many others, and generally to ascertain, if possible, how things actually stand. It will considerably elucidate matters to determine this.’

Picnics, as a rule, are rather too much of the * small beer ’ order of functions to merit being placed on record in topics of the week. An exception mnst be made, however, in favour of that given by Mr Butler, of Sargood, Butler, and Nichol, in Melbourne, to the employees of Sargood’s firm in Auckland. In the first place the affair was so thoroughly well and at the same time so gracefully done. Not merely were the champagne, the luncheon, the music, and the general arrangements absolutely perfect of their kind, but the example to other large firms and offices was so excellent. Re-unions of this sort do more to establish good feeling and loyalty between the heads of the * house ’ and those who assist them to make its fortunes than can well be imagined. It wonld be very pleasant if other of the big business men in New Zealand would emulate the kindly feeling and generosity which prompted Mr Butler to entertain the employees and friends of Sargood’s. To describe the picnic at length would absorb too much of our space. The run down the harbour in the Britannia, the races at Motutapu, the fishing, the good cheer and the speeches were all enjoyable. The catering of Mr McEwan came in for special and well-deserved commendation, and the brand of champagne supplied was excellent. Among the guests were Mrs John Ross, Mr and Mrs Thompson (McArthur and Co.), Captain Anderson, Mr Ranson, Mr Smith, Mr Friend, Mr and the Misses Brett, and a few others.

A LADY contributor to the Pall Mall Gazette makes a complaint, in bright and rather bitter language, against the modern young man. Men are so used to look upon the other sex as a natural and non-resentful object of their own complacent criticism, that this will seem to many of them contrary to the natural order of things. Still, they are often, it must be confessed, immensely anxious to know the opinion which women entertain of them, though with the same kind of superior curiosity with which Englishmen await the opinion of a Frenchman who endeavours to record his imperfect impressions of their great country ; it doesn’t matter ; but still they like to know. The complaint of the ladies, put shortly, is that the modern young man is not companionable. It is rather a serious allegation, and one which, from its very moderation will invite attention, the more because the idea of companionableness is very familiar to men, each of whom thinks, as a rule, that whatever his shortcomings in the larger order of social functions, he isa very companionablecreaturewhen aloneand taken as he is. In the words of Mr Joshua Tubbs, they will feel • hurt,’—not angry—but hurt.

The Pall Mall's lady contributor finds young men such bad company that she is almost vindictive. She asks so little of them—so she thinks, forgetting Thackeray’s axiom that no man can be a good companion to a woman till he is middle-aged—that she vows that taking them as they are and in a lump she dislikes them, and would do anything if one could do without them. Quite young ladies are, of course, the last people from whom to expect a * true relation ’of their private views about young men. Of those whom they like best, they naturally say least. They are all fugitives from the court of inquiry in this respect, or else unwilling witnesses. But women—that is, young ladies who have grown rather older—may be relied upon to say what they think ; and the lady in question takes care to fortify her position by avowing that she has ‘ arrived at a time of life when most women desert the idol of middleaged distinction at whose feet they sat as girls, and listen by preference to the egotistical prattle or love-making of boys.’ Pretty hearing this for middle-aged distinction !

BUT here the lady is hardly consistent ; for we believe our diagnosis is correct, and that what she wants is that young men should be companionable—and egotism and flirtation are not * company ’in the sense she requires. As she writes to • relieve her feelings,’ we may assume that matters are not quite so bad as she paints them. But neither in the ‘ statesmanlike young man ’ —that is, the serious and rather priggish youth—nor in the wicked young man, nor in the ladylike young man, nor even in the ordinary young man, does she find the society she seeks. As the first is a naturally old young man, she can hardly expect to find in him the companionable quantities of youth. Young ladies are far more ready than might be expected to admit a liking for the well-informed young man, even though a prig, or for the polite young man, even if rather effeminate, because cleverness and politeness are qualities which they can admire quite separately from any regard for their owner. Besides, there is a certain safety for a girl in talking with a prig or a courtier. The former, at any rate, is pretty sure to be thinking mostly ebout himself ; whereas the nice, ordinary young man is apt to be thinking about her, long before she thinks anything at all about him, and is apt to be * too previous ’ generally.

Now, the priggish young man never creates anxiety of this kind, and so gets the credit of being better liked by women than he is. As the chief complaint of the Pall Mali's lady contributor against the wicked young man is that he is not wicked enough, but only a feeble kind of impostor, we may assume that he is only inserted to complete the classification. Her estimate of the ladylike young man is amusing. * I have noticed,’ she writes, ■ that when a woman tries to be a man, she is very rarely anything like a gentleman. But the ladylike young man is frequently a very well-bred young lady. His little graces and attitudes are often very pleasing in a way. He sympathises keenly with the very minor troubles of life, and waves the serious ones aside with a paradox. He is effeminate and effete, yet amusing for a time, until you dread the recurrence of his little exclamations. He seems to be unpopular with other men ; and as one can hardly put that down to jealousy, his society is not an honour to a woman. He is not one’s idea of what a young man should be. Still, he is not uncompanionable.’ The last sentence of this not very kind description contains what we have indicated as the probable clue to the ladies’ discontent with the modern young man, and incidentally a very sufficient justification for the favour which women show to youths of whom men blindly declare that • they never can see anything in them.’ ‘ The ordinary young man is negatively preferable, of course. Supposing him to be neither a prig or a bore, nor despised of his fellows like the lady’ike young man, nor immodest. Suppose him to be ordinarily well bred. My general complaint is twofold. Firstly, he is too fond of personal chaff, which isa good (?) substitute for conversation, but is a nuisance when conversation would else have been possible. Besides it implies a previous education in tedious details, and without that is unintelligible.’

We may grant the justice of that at once—the barrackroom education of public school and college life, without women’s society and with a narrow and familiar circle of interests is mainly responsible for it. But, secondly, ‘He is too calculating. I do not wish my friends to go to the dogs ; but to be always thinking of their advantage certainly clogs some of their finer feelings—their sense of pathos, say, or their sympathy generally. There was more abandonment about young men when I was a girl, and though it sent some of them under, the others were, I venture to think, more amiable. Nowadays, if the ordinary young man is poor, he is always thinking (and frequently talking) about “getting on”; if he is rich he is always keen about having his money’s worth ; he wants to buy life at store prices.’

Another lady writes to complain that the hard work of modern life is destroying all nobility of character. We don’t believe it. Most men of noble character have rather overworked than underworked their energies ; though the graces may rather suffer from the effects even of an eighthours day. But one of the first visible results of the calculating frame of mind in a young man, who has not realised, as the older ones do, that motives are nearly always mixed in every way of life, is to produce the stupid habit of attributing commonplace, or even sordid, motives all round.— an indication that the fears of the I J all Mail's contributor as to the decay of sensibility are not groundless. But women have the remedy partly in their own hands ; and it is to be hoped that if their experience agrees with that of the writer in the Pall Mall Gazette, they will make use of it. They have only to make it understood that, in their opinion, reference to personal profits and loss and pecuniary aims and ambitions are ‘not good form,’ a rule very well understood and acted upon until lately by well-bred people, and that particular form of social defect will soon cease to form a barrier to companionship between modern young men and women.