For the Empire's Sake.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIX, Issue XI, 13 September 1902, Page 678

For the Empire's Sake.

LEAVES from the diary of A PREMIER ON TOUR.

Beyond acknowledging his indebtedness to wireless telegraphy, the* eelitor does neit feel at liberty to elisclose the source e>f the interesting communication which follows, the securing of which is perhaps the* most remarkable “scoop” yet made in the history of New- Zealand journalism.

The lakes <>f Killarney are certainly very Beautiful, and T have said as much in the visitors’ book at the holed. It was more tor the sake of havin'.’ my signature t here. lnnye*v«*r.

11. an for any impression 1 he scenery made* on me that I added my opinion of the place* to tin* pag’es of similar opinions already recorded. There is nothing- like* advertising* oneself, and I never lose* an opportunity of doing’ so. Scenery generally appeals \ery little* to me*: I am a student of man not nature. Whenever I eciiie to a district my first thought is not <».' its se*e*nie* beauties, hul of its voting* power as an electorate, or its capacity for alforeiing a good audience. Ihc Southern Sounds of New Zealand. for instance. of which in my speeches I have ewer and over again spoken as presenting 1 he most si hliine* spectacle* in 1 he* world, are*, when looked at with a view to their \oting* capacity. lof almost no va'iio at all: whereas the* meanest. uiiin-le-resting mining township on the e-e ast is dear to ni\ heart. Bint even were* I more an admirer of Nature' than I am. Killarney could not have* appealed to me* in 1 he disturbed state of mine! in which I visited the* place. For close on a fortnight I had been ir. elailx expectation of some* commilnieation from the* King. I had w.it'*he*<i the* advent of 1 he* postman from m\ bedroom window. ami made* it a rule* to inert him at the* door: my first re*e|iiest on arriving at a ho 4 el was to ask whet he r there* wore any h tiers feir me*: and regularly I was doomed to disappoint ment. I p to this mome*iil m»t a line* have* I recoiled from llis Majesty. not even a brief wire* to ask me* how I was igetii.g on. Hope* thus deferred maketh the* heart ven sick, and I have* been a prey to e*->nstant e|e*pre*ssie»n with no opport unit ies of speech-making to help me* to throw it off. The* day \v«* spent em the* Killarney Lake's I sat

in the boat in a brown study inwardly cursing- my miserable fate. I pictureel how much happier I had been if I hael never risen to my present eminence, but had l>een born, for instance. a light-hearted Irish peasant like the scores I encountered in my journey through Ireland. Not knowing Better things. I would have been content with my lazy bed e>f potatoes, my two-roomed cabin, and my pig’ Doubtless, while I was revolving these t hi.ug’hts. my Irish companions in the boat were envying- the great Mr Seddon. and under the impression that i.e must be the happiest man in the world. Shows how deceptive appearances are! Through the medium of an introductory letter, given me by Dennis O’Shea. I was able to see something k>f the interesting domestic life of the Irish peasantry. Mick O'Donoghue was the gentleman whom Mr O’Shea had instructed to show me round, and

he carried out his instructions most faithfully. “We're goin’ to hev’ a little party to-night. Mr Seddon, and perhaps ye’ll jine us, ’ said he, after 1 gave him the letter !of introduction. “By all means.” I replied, and made arrangements to meet him at two cross roads at eleven o’clock that same evening’. “Ye see we’re fashionable in our hours. Mr Seddon,” laughed Mick, as we parted. Arrayed in a garb more appropriate* to the occasion Ilian the tall hat and frock coat J had been wearing. I met Mr O’Donoghue at the appointed spot, and soon aifterward-s we were joined by six others. Like Mick, they had each a tirearm. and before we started 1 was accommodated with one* also. One of the* party handed me* a mask, which I donned, and the others, taking similar disguise’s from their pocket. put them on. The whole proceedings were conducted in such a spirit of hilarity that I could not but think I was taking part in a huge* practical joke. but 1 was <le*terminefl not to appear as if I knew that. So I accompanied 1 he* boys. Inking part in the lash, extravagant talk in which they indulged, and crooning “The Wearin' o' the* Green” Io them. We* must have keen walking’ epiite* an hour, and had arrived at a particii’arlv lonely part of the* conn 1 ry. w hen a halt was called. Mick and two others going a little a ide* consult rd in low voices, anel 1 he* only words I caught were* something to the* effect that “the* pup was game* enough.” 'Phis remark and several oilier things I had noticed confirmed me* in the* suspicion that I hael foolishly got myself mixed up in i poaching party anel I made up my mine I that at the* first opportunity I got I would clear. When the* leaders

hael finished their consultation, they i rjoined us. and the* party was split up into four, it being arranged that I should go with Mr O’Donoghue an I another gentleman. We three lost no time in setting out, and as we walked 1 endeavoured to elicit some in for mat iem from the former. “Much game in these parts?” asks I. “No, not much.” says O’Donoghue, with a laugh, “but what there is, is big.” he had hardly finished his sentence when we heard t he sound of a horse's hoofs on the road, and quickly turning aside we crept through a hedge and en see meed ourselves on the field side. “There he is now,” cries O'Donogthu.e, in an excited whisper; “get yer weepons r adv. boys.” Something intensely earnest in his tkme removed the scales from my eyes. At once I understood that this was a moonlighters’ party, and they were bent on some terrible work. What to do at this juncture I could

not think. Of course, I could not he privy to the deed they contemplated, but how was I to escape? Relief came in an unexpected fashion. Listening to the approaching sounds, we detected that tney did not proceed from one horse but more, and by the time tin* strangers were within two hundred yards we recognised

that instead of the one man my friends had evidently been expeetiny there were a dozen or more. “Com stabulary!” growled O’Donoghue as they eante near. “Lay quiet, lads rhe game’s up for to-night. Just Ic’ke that cowardly agent, to come with a howl army attendin’ him. I’m sorry to hev’ to disappoint ye Mr but. ye. see, it’s not ’ our itault. I assured him that I did not in the least blame him or his friends tor the non-success of the evening and before we parted I assured him of my undying interest in Irish affairs. After the above experience I was not sorry to Ibe able to plead a previous engagement when I received a note from O’Donoghue asking me to take part in an “anti-eviction demonstration by the bhoys.” After seeing Killarney I had meant to do a little speech-making in some of the Irish towns, until the King should arrive’, but his continued silence. and disconcerting news from Xew Zealand regarding Ward’s growing popularity, led me'to abandon my first intention, and come straight, back to London. On my arrival here yesterday, I made my usual inquiries as to letters at the hotel, but got no satisfaction. I then paid a visit to the general post office, and asked there. To my question the clerk replied: “Nothing from New Zealand, sir. Expecting any letter from any other part?” “Scotland!” I rapped out irritably. But there was nothing. This morning, when I was dressing, in a most hopeless and despondent frame of mind, the “boots” of the hotel knocked at the door, and said. “Parcel and letter. Sir!” To my delight the parcel, a sort of bandbox affair, had the Koval coat of arms on it, and the monogram of the Duke of Connaught. The letter was a great official one. with the ducal crest on it. “At last! I said, as I tore open the precious missive with one hand, and endeavoured with the other to get at the contents of the bandbox. The latter felt to me somewhat light for a coronet, but 1 was so eager to peruse the patent of nobility which 1 knew the letter must contain to trouble over that fact. Alas, once more all my fond hopes were dashed to the ground. The letter proved to be an announcement that the Duke of Connaught, as Grand Master of the English Masons, had been pleased to confer upon me the Past Grand Wardenship. 1 read as in a dream, the letters swimming in a mist before me. and when mechanically I pulled from the box a silken Masonic apron, gorgeous in purple. gr<- :n and gold, with

a wonderful amplitude of silver trimming. the gaudy article brought me no comfort. Was it for this. then. I asked myself, that 1 sent ten contingents to the war; for this I crossed the seas to Africa; for this I endured the tedious journey to the front; for this I had danced attendance on lli> Majesty before the Coronation; for this 1 had waited on his pleasure in England. Scotland and Ireland, while he was idly yachting; for this i jeopardised my chances in New Zealand, and for this I was still lingering on in London? Indignation took posses sion of me. and I flung the apron on to the floor, and trampled it undei my foot. Had there been an audience in the street I would have addressed it from the* window. There bein.l2 none. I rang the* bell. summoned 'Thompson. told him to park up m\ clothes, get the bill, and inform Col Porter that we would leave with the contingent on Saturday. “Anything amiss, sir?” says he. •’Everything.” I growled, as I aimed my hand-glas> at his head. Skilfully ducking to avoid the* missile, he* thanked me* and retired. One card now remained to be played—South Africa — and ten min utes later I was on my way to Stead** to play it. He was in his sanctum when I entered, and received me* ra ther coldly. I was equally distant, a* I came to the point at once. ”Yoi will remember my mentioning h friend who might be willing to mak< some* arrangements with you in re

gard to South Africa, Mr Stead. I am pleased to say that after a great deal of persuasion I have* got him to consent to ” “You needn’t go any further, Mr Seddon,” interrupts he. very rudely. “That deal’s off. I can do without you. John, show this gentleman the* door.” I hesitated for a moment as to what I should do. then seeing it was useless to say anyiking. I quickly left. My first steps were towards the* post office, where I des-

patched a cable to New Zealanel definitely contraelicting the* rumour that I had any intention of leaving New Zealand for Africa. 'Then I sent a telegram to the* King, brief and dignified: ”Leave* to-morrow. Will have* to make* haste* if you wish to say goodbye*. Yours faithfully. Seddon.” And now I take* my leave of yem. proud England. All unconsciously you have* entertained the* greatest teacher and the* greatest talker of the*

age*: erne* who. if you had but listened to him, would have* made you wiser and stronger and better. but one* whemi yem elid not really understand, ami insteael of loading with honours have* sent empty away (for the* Masonic* scarf does not count). \s I write* here in my e*abin. I hear the busy preparations for our departure* going on. I am too much overcome* to go on deck. Oh. England! Oh. Ed wan I!