After Dinner Gossip.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXVII, Issue IX, 31 August 1901, Page 394

After Dinner Gossip.

On an Auckland Trass Car. “I hate to be taken advantage of, but sometimes it can't be helped." said the conductor of a tram on the Auckland-Ponsonby line. “You know, » we're not allowed to carry dogs inside the cars. Well, one day last week a woman got on with a bulldog. I was up in the front of the car, and she and the dog were both on before I could remonstrate. She took a seat near the door, and Mr Dog sat down at her feet. She had her fare all ready, and handed it to me. *l*m sorry, madam,' says I, ‘but it's against the rules to carry dogs.’ ‘l'm only going a short distance.’ says she. ‘Makes no difference,’ says I. ‘l’ll have to put him off.’ "Oh, very well,’ says she. smiling very sweetly, ‘if you must. I suppose you must.' The dog was as ugly a looking brute as I ever saw outside a comic paper. He had an under shot jaw that you could almost set a free lunch on, and little bloodshot eyes that looked like red flannel. He had scars all over his body, and his ears were cut bias with ‘pasmentrie’ trimmings, where chunks had been bitten out of them. Oh, he was a peacherina, all right Moreover, he had a deep bass voice that wasn't at all friendly. He looked at me and growled. ‘Gr-r-r-r!’ he says, like that, away down in his throat. ‘Gr-r-r-r!’ ‘Come on, Towser,' I says. ‘We don’t want any trouble, but you don’t ride to-day.’ I took a step toward him, and he curled up his lip and showed his fangs. ‘Gr-r-r-r!’ he says again, more emphatic thist ime. The woman he was with—she was a stunner and as pretty as a picture—just sat there and smiled, and the other people in the tram joined in. "Why don’t you put him off?' she says. ‘He'll follow the tram.' 'Madam.’ I says. 'I have a wife and four children at home and I have been so careless as not to take out a life insurance policy. Your dog rides if I lose my job for it. He's too gentle a creature to get his feet muddy running after a tram. He stars right where he is.’ This he did?' First-Class Hair Cut. The farmer from the Waikato was angry. He had gone into a barber shop near the depot, and the barber waa trying to rob him. The barber asked him sixpence for a hair cut. The farmer roared. He led the barber outside and pointed to the sign. “Ye can’t bunker me,” be yelled. "Thar's yer ole sign. Sixpence for a first-class hair cut. Ye can’t get around that.” “Look here my friend," said the barber, diplomatically, “that sign says sixpence for a first-class hair cut, all right. But you haven't got first-class hair.” The farmer meditated a minute. “Well, I guess that’s right,” he said. And he paid ‘he bill without another word. ♦ ♦ ♦ Lurid Views by Boya. What a lurid view boys take of politics! A schoolmaster gives some examples in "Chambers's Journal." Asked to explain the cause of the Transvaal disturbances, a boy of 10 wrote this: "Kruger and Kannerbulism is one. He is a man of blud. Mr Chamberling -has wrote to him sayin' come out and fite, or else give up the blud of the English you have took. He is a boardutchman and a wicked heethin. Lord Kitchener has sent for his gory blud and to bring back his scandexlus hed ded or alive.” And another boy's essay describes Mr Gladstone as having “lovd everybody. He lovd publicuns and einners and Irishmen, he wanted the Irish to tom. 1 to England and have home mol, but Mr Chamberlain says no no. So alara he got his blud up and killed Mr Parnel. Mr Gladstone died with great rispeet, and is burrid in Westminster with pieeeful ashes." Compared with these versions of modern history, the following on Queen Elizabeth la faithful: “Queen Elizabeth was a vurgia queen, and she was

never marrid. she was so fond of dresses that she was never seen without one on. she was beautifull and clever with a red hed and freckles.” Dirty Wellington Playgoers. Playgoers in the Empire City seem to be a rather curious lot, for they have apparently a mama for wiping the mud off their boots on the back of the dress of any lady who may be sitting in front ;* th ini. Listen to this from a Wellington daily paper:— “In important theatre seasons, such as the present series of operas, there is much perturbation amongst ladies on account of the habit of some persons—and not always persons of the rougher sex—of shoving the toes of muddy boots through the backs of the seats in front of them, greatly to the detriment of dainty costumes worn by the occupants of those chairs. It is true that the shape of .the chair-frames is partly to blame, but unless or until this defect can be remedied, a little thoughtfulness on the part of the wearers of the aggressive boots will save much annoyance, and even actual damage.”

A local hotelkeeper recently replied to an advertisement in which a barmaid sought for a situation. In his letter mine host asked for references; he was met by the following communication:—“Mr , —I write to decline your situation on behalf of my daughter. If you care to-engage a cab for the day I can semi jou all over Auckland gathering in references as to character, etc. We were pretty well known to all the clan of in the colony!" Hoity. toity!

The Very Latest -Duke” Story. Stories in connection with the recent Royal visit continue to circulate. Most of them are silly, but here is one which, if slightly full flavoured, is decidedly amusing. It is told by the “Bulletin”:—“The Duke," said the old Maoriland war veteran, “is a perfect gentleman. Why, he actually shook hands with me, asked how I got my medal, and when I'd told him of the fighting I've seen he said I had set a noble example which he hoped every young fellow would follow.” “Come home, you darned old baldheaded pig-thievin’ curse!” said a rough-looking female, laying hold of the Xoble Example by the coat and half dragging it off him. “You and the Duke—do what I will I can’t keep you out of bad company. If the Duke only knew you as well as I do he wouldn’t touch you with a long pole. Your medal for service—stealing the Maoris’ pigs and potatoes when the warriors were away fighting for their country? As old Colonel Four-eyes said, you were the most infernal pig-and-spud thief in the whole army; if there had been many more like you, there would have been no Maoris left for the Duke to see—they would have all starved to death. And the little devil actually hopes the young fellows will follow your noble example, does he? As if the gaols aren’t full enough already. Better for them to follow your funeral. Now you just follow me home and think yourself lucky to have a wife who will look out that you don’t go hungry while you're sneakin’ round after the Duke like a little poodle”—and keeping a firm grip of the pig-pilferer she marched him off out of sight of the grinning crowd. Those Awful Chrtatcbur ch Lada. The average colonial “human boy.” as .Mr Chadband would call him,* is usually very much of a “holy terror” wherever yon find him, but evidently in Christchurch the City Councillors think they have a particularly tough variety of the genus larrikin to deal with. Last week, in the City Council Chamber, Cr. Clarke exhibited a sample of a wire fence with very ugly looking tope of considerable cutting power, which he proposed should

be erected round the band rotunda to keep the boys from climbing' up and annoying- the bandsmen. The sample fence looked formidable enough, but Cr. Smith, evidently speaking with a knowledge of boys, emphatically declared that in five minutes the wicked looking cutting barbs at the top would be wrenched off and the fence triumphantly climbed. _ However, the matter of devising a fence strong enough to circumvent the agility of the awful youth of Christchurch has been remitted to the Works Committee. lan"* this New Zealand Law Unjust. Even in these days, when women’s rights are supposed to have usurped the place of their privileges, there are one or two injustices which will be considered monstrous by any rea- - sonable member of the male sex—to which by the way the writer belongs. At the Dunedin Police Court last week a counsel in one of the crses made a statement on the law relating to husband and wife, which, as the local paper justly remarks, will be news to many. He said: If a wife is not destitute there is no obligation on the part of her husband to support her. That she is his wife has nothing to do with it. Unless she is destitute she has no claim whatever; and if destitute she can be awarded no more than £1 per week, even though her husband were the manager of a bank at £2OO a year. Presumably this is correct, since it was not contradicted by either the opposing counsel, or by the Stipendiary Magistrate. Granting then that this is the law. all readers of the ■"Graphic" will doubtless agree that it is infamous. The amount a man should hare to contribute to the support of his wife should be reasonably in accordance with his income, and if she can prove that such is not the case, the Courts should have discretionary power to force the mean husband's hand more deeply into his pocket. ■fr + + Chrtstehrr -it Undergraduate Reformers. It need hardly be explained that this paper has no desire to ridicule any effort at moral improvement amongst our colonial young fellows. Nevertheless. it is impossible not to see the humorous side of the attempt of some of the undergraduates of Canterbury University College to establish a ’Varsity Temperance Brigade. A meeting of undergraduates was called at the College the other evening. In order to safeguard themselves, some of the students decided to forswear the entering of public bars. A constitution was adopted which provides that all members must wear a blue ribbon and must refrain from entering hotel bars under a certain penalty, to be fixed by the committee. The proceeds that may accrue from this source will be devoted to a picnic at the end of the session. A curious rule is one providing that ali members transgressing the rules must report themselves. It must be *admitted that, excellent as is the resolve of these exemplary young men, they have in their rules laid themselves open to chaff from the undergraduate students who imbibe the sinful shandygaff, the baleful beer, or the seductive whisky. No doubt the price of the penalty is fixed with due regard to human frailty at a not too ruinous figure, and one wonders how many of the temperance students will occasionally have these illicit and expensive drinks now and again. Evidently the students themselves think those who fall from grace will be many and that the lapses will not be infrequent, since it is assumed by the constitution of the society that the fines will provide funds for “a picnic at the end of the session." It will be noted that only "public bars" are prohibited. If the thirsty student chooses he can evidently drink as much as he chooses in, say, the smoking room of the hotel, or even in the billiard saloon. Wanted the Bricks Back. Two Wellington neighbours are hoping to give lawyers some work. One—we will call him “A”—is a lawyer. He is a man of high professional attainments, but of testy and irritable temper. His next-door neighbour is a retired Major, noted for the eccentricity of his habits. Between the two there

has always existed anything but a friendly feeling, and they are continually doing all in their power to annoy and harass each other. One night recently during a serious storm the Major’s chimney was blown down. Crash went the bricks through the roof of the Judge's house, and thence down through floor after floor, carrying havoc in their course.

The man of law was in no good humour as he contemplated the destruction; and what made matters worse, it was the Major’s chimney which had occasioned the wreck. His mind was actively engaged in devising some process by which he could get satisfaction from his arch enemy, when a note arrived from the latter, couched in the following language: “Send me back my bricks immediately - ** or I will put the matter into the hands of an attorney.” The Fate of the Welsher. It needs considerable moral and physical courage in these days to adopt deliberately the somewhat unpopular profession known as “welshing. ’ But there are some brave hearts who, since there is no other means by which they can indulge their passion for sport, calmly accept the risks and visit every racecourse with imperturbable good humour, bearing patiently with the weaknesses of mankind. At times, hojyever, it goes hard with them. At a recent meeting one of the fraternity had a most unpleasant experience. Having collected all the money he could, and satisfactorily made his book, he was attempting to leave the course before meeting his creditors at the appointed time. Unfortunately for him his intention became known. In a moment has was in the hands of a hostile crowd of indignant sportsmen. who stripped him of his clothing, and then chivied him round the course and past the grand stand. It is said he made good running, and eventually escaped from his tormentors; but that is not the sort of race a welsher loves. The Crowded Tram. Pack ’em in, Wedge ’em in. Whack 'em in. Edge ’em In, Jack ’em in, Sledge 'em in. Any way to get ’em in. They run the trams for the public good And don’t want them full of solitude So they stuff them full of people, and If they don’t get seats they have to stand; Stand in the aisles and hang to straps. Stand on the toes and fall on the laps Of people who wonder what they’ve done That they should be thus imposed upon; Stand in the open trams before People who will not stand much more. People who pay their way and ought To have the rights which they have bought; Stand on the platforms: stancF anywhere. While conductors yell — “Move forward, there.” But they can’t move forward very far. For they’re packed to a standstill in the car. Pack ’em in. Wedge ’em in. Whack ’em in, Edge ’em in. Jack ’em in. Sledge ’em in. Any way to get ’em in. “Pack the public.” the companies say. Pack the public by night by day. Pack the public, it’s the easiest way To make the tram car business pay. The public be packed: Do the companies care A d for the public except for fare* Not much; they don’t and they never will As long as the trams are there to fill. To filk»to the limit, and stuff and stuff. No matter how many cry — “Enough.” Pack ’em in. Wedge ’em in. Whack ’em in. Edge ’em in. Jack ’em in. Sledge ’em in. Anyway to get ’em in. Reformed. “Willie, didn't I see you matching pennies with Willie Blimmer?” “Y-yca, mamma!” “Well, don't you know it’s very wicked?” “’Deed I do, mamma!” “Then don’t you do so I w-won't, mamma—l’m bbuai-