SESSION AND SOCIETY.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XV, Issue XV, 12 October 1895, Page 458

SESSION AND SOCIETY.

CHIT-CHAT FROM THE CAPITAL. (BY OUR PARLIAMENTARY FLANEUR.) MORE than a hundred years have passed since Edmund Burke, shocked at the treatment meted out to Queen Marie Antoinette by the French Jacobins, exclaimed ‘ the age of chivalry is past,’ but if the age of chivalry is past, the age of faith still lingers with us. A Wellington Christian Association has just passed a resolution in which they place on record the opinion of their members that the sweeping majority by which Mr Seddon’s Liquor Bill passed its third reading is a proof of the direct and divine interposition of Providence in the House of Representatives. I have made some inquiries as to the origin of the division referred to, and I confess I could not myself attribute it to the direct intervention of a higher power, but that, of course, is merely my opinion. In the same way I notice that the good people of Sydney are happily confident that the welcome rain which at last descended upon their colony was a distinct and prompt celestial response to the prayers for rain offered up in the New South Wales churches on a recent Sunday. To speak lightly of faith of this sort is the last thing I wish to do, but I hope I shall not be thought wicked for suggesting that if the New South Welshmen are convinced of the efficacy’ of praver in the case of unfavourable seasons, they ought another year to begin to make use of it a little sooner. If prayers for rain are efficacious after months of drought, when stock are dying and fields in springtime have became as bare as the back of a man’s hand, there seems to me no reason why prayer should not be useful to prevent matters coming to such a pass. Prevention, as w’e know, is better than cure. Public petitions to Heaven may, of course, be an evidence of faith, or of want of it. There is a kind of faith which disdains importuning Providence, and trusts the destinies of the world implicitly to the Higher Power. It is an example of this that I well remember was the case of a wealthy Australian landowner, who had erected at a considerable cost a really beautiful spire for a colonial cathedral church. The grateful Bishop and clergy ventured to suggest to him that he should complete his gift by providing the spire with a lightning conductor. The generous pastoralist, however, declined to hear of such a thing, giving as his reason that the spire was now the property of Providence, and that he considered Heaven ought to be trusted to respect its own possession.

I forget for the moment whether the streets of Auckland are lit by gas or electricity. In Wellington gas seems somewhat at a discount, perhaps because the city is the seat of Government. At any rate the streets are illuminated by electric lamps. Now, though lam a firm and grateful believer in the beauties of electric lighting in the interior of buildings, I cannot say that it has ever struck me that the streets of Wellington seem very much more brilliant than those of the gas-lit cities. Very possibly this is because there are not lamps enough. lam thankful to say that our city fathers are going to initiate a new era of lighting. We are to have no less than 39 new lamps distributed in various streets, as well as five more to be placed by the Harbour side and paid for by the Harbour Board. The maintenance of the 39 aforesaid is to cost Z 306 a year, I believe, but the money will be well spent, for our steep slippery streets on wet windy nights are the very last heights one cares about scaling without plenty of light to guide one's steps.

The beautiful spring weather which has at last begun here seems to encourage the opening of everything both in the garden and out of it. The town is flooded with cards announcing the opening of the Yacht Club, the I’olo Club, and the Bowling Clubs, to say nothing of the Synod, which is now in full swing. A large nondescript afternoon entertainment, half garden party, half tea, which took place on Wednesday afternoon at Government House, was noticeably full of black coats and white ties. The guests who were to have wandered in the garden showed a marked preference for the house. A light southerly was blowing its invigorating freshness across the lawn, and in spite of the lovely sunshine, served to keep the pretty spring bonnets and light draperies indoors.

An entertainment which was perhaps more novel than a clerical afternoon tea was given to the ‘ mothers of Wellington ’ by a Mrs Jessie Fulton the other night. Not being a ‘ mother ’ I was not invited, but I believe it was a great success. A concert formed the first half of the programme, and then, we are told, the mothers danced. I expect they enjoyed that, though one would have liked to have seen some ‘ fathers ’ for them to dance with. Perhaps a few were allowed to creep in at the end ‘just

to fetch mother home.’ Anyhow it is refreshing to hear that these good women had a few really pleasant hours, for of all the hard-earned livelihoods on this earth, that of the poorer class mother is about the hardest. The ‘ new woman ’ movement is making progress in Wellington. Connected with it there seems to be evolving a sort of new man. He appeared in the Magistrate's Court the other day. His name is Mr Knigge, and he summoned his wife to show cause why she should not support him. She seems to be a decidedly spirited person, and declares that though she pleads guilty to having the means, she would rather throw herself into the harbour than live with Mr Knigge any more. The statement-appears to have blocked the business a little, and the case was adjourned. On the same day another lady—distinctly ‘ new ’ she must have been—was accused of stealing a pair of trousers the property of one. T. Ralph. The case was also adjourned, ostensibly for the report of the probation officer, but one cannot help thinking that an enquiry will be made as to her intention with regard to her booty. Did she do it simply to inconvenience the other party, or had she ulterior motives as to the use of the trousers ? This appears to me to be the vital point in the case. Everyone is beginning to talk of going home, and everyone is deploring the fact that home seems as far off as it did three weeks ago. The tail end of the session seems capable of extending itself indefinitely, as far as one can see. There is enough business to keep the House together for another three months, but fortunately the most virtuous and prohibition member generally finds that he can stand no more when October is well on. The knowing onesgive another month, and then we may expect to see the holland covers put on and the curtain looped up for the long silence of the recess. How the poor empty galleries must enjoy the rest ! Government House will be deserted as soon as possible. I believe His Excellency means to take a short trip to Napier at once ; then in a few weeks to go South ; spend a flying week within hail of Christchurch about race time ; and then on to some country refuge where Ministers cease from troubling.

I observe that some of your daily contemporaries are confidently predicting that Sir Patrick Buckley is to become Chief Justice next year, and that Mr Seddon is to be our next Agent-General. Now Ido not cultivate the gift of prophecy myself, and do not believe in giving tips unless one has special and conclusive information, but though I don’t pretend to have anything of the kind in this instance, I venture to tip you this that neither of the prophecies above-mentioned will ‘ come off.’

Wellington is on this day of grace contriving to exist without either a Governor, a Premier, or a leader of Opposition. Nevertheless, the heavens have not fallen, the sky is serene. Though Ido not venture to suggest that there is any connection between the circumstance, there is much less wind than usual. The Premier’s sudden departure for Christchurch yesterday has, of course, set many tongues wagging. All sorts of mysterious reasons are bruited about, and the imaginative brotherhood of special correspondents are sharpening their wits to discover hidden causes. As a matter of fact, I think I may dare to stake my reputation for veracity upon the assurance that Mr Seddon has simply gone to Christchurch, drawn thither by the fact that he has recently become for the second or third time a proud and happy grandfather. In other words he has taken ship to attend the christening of the little one of his daughter, Mrs Bean, the wife of the Rev. Walter Bean, who is the Church of England clergyman of the parish of Addington. Addington is the western portion of the celebrated borough of Sydenham. A year or two ago it seemed a little ironical that Mr Seddon’s family should be closely connected with the stronghold and citadel of prohibition, but the wheel of fortune turns strangely, and the new Licensing Bill has caused even the prohibitionists to look with almost friendly eyes upon King Richard.