PLAIN SPEAKING.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XVII, Issue II, 11 July 1896, Page 42

PLAIN SPEAKING.

NOTH. — This column is open. to all, and the Editor is in no way responsible for the opinions expressed in it.

OF course it is absolutely ridiculous,’ says a valued correspondent, *to write to you of a good water supply whilst the heavens are descending upon us in continuous floods. This rain will last for ever, and we shall not need to think of possibly dry summer weather, with its usual accompaniment of scarcity of water in our reservoirs. This is the usual feeling, childish in the extreme, but still the feeling prevalent amongst the ordinary citizens of New Zealand. In Auckland especially is this the case. The inhabitants of that favoured city are blessed with a most delightful easy-goingness, a laissez fairs which is the despair of energetic visitors and the admiration of philosophers. “Oh, bother the water! It’s good enough and has always lasted the summer. Let someone else see to it.” Someone else does suddenly become convinced of the absolute necessity for an improvement in the water supply, and manages to make things lively at a few City Council meetings. But the subject is manifestly an unwelcome one. The apathy and listlessness of his fellows speedily damps his enthusiasm and discourages his philanthropy. After all, what does it matter to him ? He has two tanks for rain water; he will get a third and save their contents against the dry day he is foretelling. And so another prophet sinks into an early grave, and with a sigh of great relief the Councillors cover him and his project with documents and memoranda, neatly and carefully tied with red tape and legal suggestions, and turn their attention to the best method of inoculating everyone with typhoid germs, so that when the hot weather comes they may drink as much bad water as they like and inhale the delicate odours of the unflushed drains and un-water-swept sewers with immunity. For the vaunted water from the Western Springs is not so pure as represented. Why, only yesterday I saw a large family’s soap-suds tranquilly pursuing their way along one of the principal creeks which fall into the springs’ supply. I don’t suppose that this family has any dirtier linen than any other family, but it is nice to think the city-supplied water consumers drink up the week’s or fortnight’s wash water ! This same creek spends a little of its time meandering about a Chinaman’s garden. On that part of its career I will not dwell. It receives other additions of various unpleasant kinds besides the first wash. But these all only add a little piquante flavour to what might be, if the city of Auckland desired, very pure, clear, and rather tasteless water. For there is an excellent watershed at the base of Mt. Albert, and a continuation of it below Mclllwaine’s hill, which would cost less than conveying water from the Waitakerei Ranges, and would last for some considerable time. It is very edifying to hear the remarks of other cities on the abundant cases of typhoid which Auckland furnished to the district hospital this year. Will anyone be prepared to deny that the greater proportion of them were water-drinkers ?’

A * poor clerk ’ whites.—• Can you allow me space to ventilate the ever-recurring question of collections for presentations ? I have been a most unlucky beggar, for since I came to Wellington, exactly eighteen months ago, I have been asked to add my name to twenty-two testimonials, accompanied, I need hardly say, by a subscription. I can’t very well refuse to give anything, though my salary is barely sufficient to support my wife and three children. I felt pretty mad the other day. I had saved up five shillings to buy the wife a birthday present, and a blank presentation was set on foot for someone for whom I haven’t the smallest sympathy ; in fact, whom I think deserves a good deal worse than he will get. For many reasons I could not wriggle out of giving something, though I got off with 2S 6d. I was just departing to spend my last half-crown on a trifle for the wife when I was way-laid. Our head cashier was leaving—he had a better post offered him—and would I give only 2s 6d towards a gold snuff-box or some stupid thing of that sort! I did refuse, and know now that I am called "thatmean fellow, Smith.” Something ought to be done to stop this heavy, senseless tax. Can’t one of our legislators, who has no particular pet craze this session, bring in a Bill making all collections or requests or hints for money for presentations entirely illegal ? I know I and thousands of others will give that man our votes at the next general election.’