After Dinner Gossip amid Echoes of the Week.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXX, Issue XVII, 25 April 1903, Page 1135

After Dinner Gossip amid Echoes of the Week.

The Oreetneee of Little Things. The real greatness and importance of what some people would consider the little things of life, has been frequently pointed out by far wiser men and abler pens than mine, but the continental tour of the King once more and very clearly demonstrates the truth of the dictum that it is “the little things that matter.’ For instance, it was surely a very minor occurrence that British warships should have been sent over to Algiers to honour President Loubet. It was one of those small courtesies which, if it'*had not been extended, would have aroused no remark or comment. But having been done so gracefully, who will deny that it may not be pregnant with consequences of the utmost importance? The French greatly pleased us by their thoughtful silence over the suicide of Sir Hector Macdonald (all the French newspapers having abstained from mentioning the lamentable affair till the news had been published in England). Here there is another instance, that too was a “small matter,” yet just imagine what might ■have been the feeling aroused had the Paris journals come out with a series of lurid, and perhaps obscene articles, as has happened before now, when opportunities offered. But the exercise of a generous feeling and a self-control, which it is to be regretted was not shown by the American press in Paris, resulted in engendering a feeling of friendliness, and even gratitude, perhaps rather beyond its cause, but which is very real and very sincere nevertheless, and which paved the way for the international greetings and courtesies now being exchanged. Wars often have their commencement in very insignificant causes. Everybody will recollect how bellicose the States became several years ago over the Venezuelan affair, but as a fact the irritation of the man in the street was far more on account of the charges brought by >Lord Dunraven in connection with the race for the American cup. "Tom, Dick and Harry,” who are absolute monarchs in “the greatest country on “airth,” thought little and probably cared less about a mere quarrel over a boundary, but when their countrymen were accused of dirty cheating, and that without proper evidence, by an indiscreet British nobleman, their fighting blood was aroused in real earnest, and that most foolish of episodes might have created such bad blood that the first decent excuse for a quarrel would have been taken, and extremities proceeded to. Happily there came forward a sportsman who could take a beating with a good grace, and absurd as it may seem to the untravelled, that tact and good temper of Sir Thomas Lipton has unquestionably done more than any other single thing to increase the popularity of England in the States. With England desperately unpopular with the German populace (for the moment) a re-establishment of friendliness with the Parisian crowd is certainluy not amiss. It is the easiest possible thing to either please or offend a Frenchman, and especially a Parisian, and probably the thoughtful little act of the King may entirely restore that goodwill and good feeling which has been too long absent between France and England. * * + That Picnic. There is no doubt the great Parliamentary spree to the islands is going to land all who participate therein in for an amount of chaff and criticism scarcely contemplated by the originators of the somewhat quaint function, and the exclusion of the press is not likely to diminish the same. Exactly why a reasonable proportion of free and unmuzzled pressmen were not invited would scarcely seem clear, and it is rather strange to spend the public’s money, without allowing the

public to hear how it was done, and what was the precise nature of the “value received.” Naturally the unregenerate wink the other eye and put forward the scandalous theory that there are likely to be “such goings on” that a reporter, whose copy was not liable to be censored, would be a very inconvenient and tiresome person to have on board. Of course, you and I would never dream of hinting that the proceedings will be anything other than even a Sundayschool teacher might approve of, but there are so many ill-natured people in the world that I really think the Cabinet has made somewhat of a mistake in giving the idea there was something not fit for publication in the jaunt. As for the public, it takes the picnic very philosophically and good-naturedly. It has become inured to members collaring an extra rise for themselves and shouting themselves trips to Picton or Nelson or Gisborne during the session, and an extra thousand or so makes little difference. One of “Old Dick’s” games, they say, for you will notice that even his opponents in politics speak of the Premier as King Dick or Old Dick nowadays. He is no longer a mere man; he is an institution, and really and truly I believe many of those who are hottest against him and all bis works have that half-secret delight in his (as they consider) enormities, that we used to have in our schooldays when the bad boy of the school achieved some more than usually daring and showy feat of wickedness. There is the same half-awed, half-admiring feeling of “what will he do next ” which audacity of any sort arouses amongst the weaker spirits. Personally the Premier is, unto me, “a perpetual feast;” the personality of the man and his persistent pushfulness and manner of achieving his ends paralyses criticism or comment. I can but gaze and say “Ah!” at each new feat, as one does at a circus, which, by the way. New Zealand politics somewhat resemble. But I get on dangerous ground for after-dinner discussion; let us change the subject.

Are Women or Mon the More Modest?

It was not to be expected that my (to most minds, I suppose) blasphemous opinion expressed last week, that women are less innately modest than men, would pass without challenge, and I have several letters, some of them distinctly acrimonious, before me. It is a pity the average woman cannot keep her temper over a discussion of this sort; or in fact over anything where her superiority is called in question. That is why, I suppose, we exclude them from the afterdinner chat of the smoke-room, where, contrary to feminine opinion, conversation does not descend to the telling of more or less cerulean stories. The majority of ladies who have favoured me with their views start off to denounce me for daring to suggest that the sex is immodest, and continue to pour forth abuse without bringing forward a single argument. But they overlook the point that I never said the sex was immodest. Who am I that I should utter heretical untruths? I asserted my belief, which I stick to, that, contrary to received theories, woman is less innately modest, and, let me add, less shy than man. I have seen men grow pink all over at plays where women have sat absolutely unmoved. I have heard them discuss matters in mixed company which no man I ever met could approach without the most obvious discomfort, and I have seen them openly reading books which the mere male would have hidden in the uttermost recesses of his sanctum. As for smoke-room stories, as they are often called, I only know that the men who make a practice of telling yarns usually described as “blue” are regarded ns unmitigated nuisances by the majority of their fellow creatures, and I do not know that stories of the more or less objectionable type are any more common in a crowded smoke-room than in an equally tenanted boudoir.

Prevention of Cruelty to Children. The fact that the Auckland branch of that most admirable of all societies, that for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children, held its meeting last week, gives me an opportunity to again approach a subject on which some readers will perchance think I am somewhat of a crank. I mean cases of cruelty to children. One’s blood, and the blood of every one of you, must have boiled the other day on reading of a female fiend, who for the most shocking cruelties to a child —an infant sister—was awarded the disgraceful sentence of seven days. How can society hope to stamp out this most hateful and unnatural of crimes if magistrates and those in authority practically condone it by awarding absurdly inadequate sentences? The punishment of the woman Drake was lenient enough in all conscience, but though this child did not—unfortunately for itself perhaps—die, the infliction of a paltry seven days is simply a crying scandal. As I * have pointed out before, it is so difficult to sheet the offence home to the cowardly perpetrators, that when one can be brought to book the punishment meted out should be of no ordinary order, but by a salutary severity sufficient to give pause to even the most passionate and uncontrollable bully of either sex or age. Children will accept almost any treatment from those placed in authority over them without making that public complaint which would facilitate the discovery of cases of gross cruelty. Poor mites! they come to look upon it as a part of the ordinary order of things, and take it with the strange dogged philosophy which is one of the most, painful characteristics of suffering childhood. The society has done good work, but I do honestly believe it can yet do more. The few cases brought into Court show that even here there must be many, many sad instances where, if they could be discovered, its intervention is necessary. And, furthermore, it can work up public opinion so that when one of these wretched creatures is convicted the sentence shall be of exceptional severity. * 4- * Educated Inanity. Some of the cries perpetrated by the Southern University students at the recent tournament here remind one how ineffably silly some forms of humour are, forms which provoke the laughter not merely of the “groundlings.” but of educated men and women. For instance, when we tell you that one of the cries of Victoria College, Wellington, was “Banana, banana, potato, potato, what ho! what ho!” you will probably think that the representatives of our newest college must be very childish. Yet there was evidently to those, concerned something very amusing in this nonsensical cry, delivered with the full strength of many undergraduate voices, with an indefinite amount of emphasis on the “What ho!” Another wild cry of Victoria College was “No coffee, no coffee, no cocoa, no cocoa, no tea, no tea, no tea!” which is also very silly in substance, but very striking in effect. No body of people enjoy themselves quite so much as undergraduates, and their boisterous and happy manner makes m,any of their doings most laughable when they are really only silly. After all, humour is quite a matter of taste. There are people, and many of them, whose sense of humour is very keen, but who can’t see any humour in the inimitable Dooley, or in those most amusing yarns of W. W. Jacobs. One can only feel pity for them —pity at what they are losing. Fancy

a person who eould not see the humour of “Politics is n man’s game, and women, children and prohibitionists would do well to keep clear of it,” or “The boat was hoisted under the able profanity of the mate!”