NOTES FROM THE GALLERY.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XIX, Issue XXI, 13 November 1897, Page 656

NOTES FROM THE GALLERY.

(BY

CLARISSE.)

Wellington, November 4. ■l.e sage entend a demi mot,’ and the ineumltent of the ehair is still spoken of kindly by ladies frequenting the gallery. ' His exceptional popularityremains undiminished, notwithstanding the demand for silence, so peremptorily imposed, which has, however. produced most effective results. The constant supply of pointless chatter in the gallery" has ceased, or is at least less obtrusive. In my spare moments, snatched when some member is ‘platitudinising,’ the habitues of this same gallery afford me endless entertainment. There are the old habitues, who take an active part in Parliamentary affairs. know all the latest ’on dits" and lobby gossip, and so conversant are they with the •personnel’ of the House that the Speaker, who is ‘up,’ is identified as soon as his voice first strikes the ear. and members involuntarily turn to the gallery a furtive glance, after a sly hit or ‘score off’ an opponent. In strong contrast to them are the ‘country cousins,’ who look on with awe, as‘with full pomp and ceremony the Speaker takes the chair: for to them the proceedings are momentous, to be regarded through grave eves, with face unlit by laughter, till' suddenly the faces are suffused with smiles, and pleased nods of recognition denote the fact that ‘paterfamilias’ has been discovered and sits below, the centre of an admiring family circle, dexterously endeavouring to carry off the family adulation with becoming hauteur and seeming sang froid. What, too. I often reflect, must be the mental anguish endured by the unfortunate members who are doomed, to sit beneath the galleries, owing to the perilously close proximity of sharp-pointed "scissors, of large dimensions. to the edge of the gallery ledge, upon which, regardless of environment. mysterious and wonderful creations are in some instances cut out. There are the little ‘coteries’ which invariably adjourn for supper with some favoured member, and. judging bv the laughter which comes occasionally through the door to the gallery. the labour entailed upon politicians in connection with the discharge of this portion of their legislative duties is not arduous. The sad touches are supplied by the anxious faces of those who go to watch the fate of some bill which will probable entail superannuation upon a dear one. who is perchance to be laid upon the shelf while still vigorous, and anxiously in this case are the faces of the various speakers scanned, in hope perhaps of succour from some unexpected quarter. Sharp challenge, too. centres in the gaze of some poor mother or wife who listens breathlessly to the confirmation of her fears as to the disposal of some coveted appointment anxiously solicited for husband or son —alas! fruitlessly. ‘There’s some mistake, surely. My Jim had more right than him,’ I heard one such whisper hoarsely to herself, as. woman-like, she went away to administer comfort to the white, hopeless face that rises, obedient to her signal of departure, from the Strangers' Gallery. All this ami much more I note from my perch aloft, as I take surreptitious peeps at the occupants of the galleries. It is high time the House should make an end of the financial debate—-so-called —or confine it to the giants of debate, as at present any speech a member may Jjave prepared, iijvon any subject whatever, is worked off on the financial debate, failing a legitimate opportunity, and the present session will be memorable for the many hours wasted by such elocutionary efforts that were crammed within its ample folds. However, all things must have an ending, and Friday evening sounded the death-knell of the financial debate, and also witnessed the excommunication of the T.eft Wing by the Government, a task performed in his concluding speech on the debate by the Premier, who sternly and unrelentlesslv cut them adrift, sparing none of them. There he stands with his leonine head thrown haughtily back, addressing the House apparently through a speaking trumpet. ‘Kats! traitors! Tories!’ With these epithets he speeds the parting guests. These latter sit through their ‘mauvais quatre d’ heure’ apparently unmoved, while the hushed House listens in silence to the torrent which

flows on. The bitter inflection of the voice and the trembling of the outstretched hand betray the intensity of the tumult raging within. Finally, he brands the senior member for Dunedin as ‘Judas Iscariot,’ and alludes to Mr Rolleston as ‘Brutus’—epithets which break the spell of silence which has reigned, and bring Mr Speaker to his feet to insist upon a withdrawal. The Minister of Lands sarcastically congratulates the Leader of the Opposition on his recently acquired recruits, wishing him joy of them, and emphatically declares their withdrawal has cleansed the Liberal party of an impurity. The no-confidence debate on Friday was disappointingly tame, the only noteworthy features in connection with it being the action of the independent members. On Tuesday afternoon a question of privilege occupies the House, and the mutilation of ’Hansard’ by the Premier to the extent of eight pages is ultimately permitted, in spite of strong opposition from Captain Russell and the members of the Opposition. The Premier creates a laugh by referring to Mr Pirani as ‘that ferret Pirani.’ and Mr Speaker pours oil upon the troubled waters by ordering the withdrawal of the epithet. Nothing noteworthy transpires during Tuesday and Wednesday, the House occupying itself with the debate on the Estimates, and so engrossed do the members become that it is half-past 5 when the House rises. In the early hours of the morning the scene in the House is a strange one. The familiar figure in the chair, with eyes bent down, and an air of supernatural solemnity, is as usual unfathomable. Members 101 l about the benches in every conceivable attitude, making heroic but in many cases quite ineffectual efforts to' appear wide awake: but all my attention is engrossed by my unsuccessful efforts to ‘unravel’ the elect of Hawke’s Bay, whose attitude when writing at his desk is simply wonderful, his long limbs being disposed under his bench in such a manner that only his head is visible above. In this attitude, with his head on a level with his paper, he writes ceaselessly, the effect produced from the gallery being that he writes with his chin: and I hourly expect to hear him exclaim, like the aesthetical trio in ‘Patience.’ ‘What do the inner brotherhood recommend for cramp?’ The appearance of Mr Hone Heke is quite pathetic as with sleepy languour he rises from his seat, and to the intense amusement of the House commences to speak in Maori. The astonished members are used to fluent and eloquent speeches in remarkably pure English from the member of the Northern Maori District. The House bubbles with laughter at the gravely suggested intervention of the Chairman, who says the honorable member must have an interpreter if necessary: and as the interpreter comes forward and announces. after another sentence in his native tongue has been essayed by Mr Heke. that the honorable member ‘feels very weary, and wishes to go home.’ members literally roll in their seats, and even the aggrieved Mr Heke joins in the laugh' against himself. Several honorable members proceed after this to make important communications which are apparently addressed to their beards, as their remarks are quite inaudible to the gallerv.