After Dinner Gossip and Echoes of the Week.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXI, Issue XXI, 21 November 1903, Page 15

After Dinner Gossip and Echoes of the Week.

Farewell to Lady Baafurly. On Saturday New Zealand said farewell to the Countess of Ranfurly, who for now over six years has filled the high and responsible position of consort to the Governor of this colony. It has fallen to those of us long resident in the colony to see many governors arrive and depart, and when the end of their term has arrived it has been our pleasing duty—for New Zealand has been fortunate in its governors—to speak the words of farewell and God-speed with something more of true feeling than mere courtesy and formal etiquette demanded. And, in these expressions of gratitude and goodwill it has been customary to include in complimentary terms the lady who has been hostess at Government House. But never within the recollection of the writer, never so far as one can learn in the history of this or any Australasian colony, has so pro found, so universal, and so sincere regret been aroused as that manifested from one end of the colony to the other over the departure of the Countess of Ranfurly. To fill the place she leaves in the hearts of the people of this colony will be impossible, and it will be long indeed before the memory of her gracious dignity, her kindly disposition, her ready sympathy of anything of good report, her tirelessness in work, her ready tact and her tender woman’s heart, fade from the memory of New Zealanders. She was indeed the ideal wife of the Governor of the colony, a worthy representative in truth of that noble and gracious lady who shares the throne with Edward of England. Her work here, the fruit of the fine example she set, will live and be felt long after she and we of this generation have passed away. Many other noble ladies have filled the position of hostess of Government House with distinction, and have brilliantly entertained there, but their memory survives not. It has been with them a case of “la reigne est mort, vive re reigne.” We have forgotten the parting guest in welcoming the new. But to thousands in this colony to-day this is impossible with Lady Ranfurly. Prompted only by her own good heart, her own high sense of principle and duty, she has done things no other governor's wives have ever done, entertained those to whom Government House hospitality has never previously been extended, and enlarged the scope of her interests and sympathies and duties in a manner never even dreamed of by any of her distinguished predecessors. And thus, she has won for herself a place in the respect and downright affection of the colonies, which can only be compared to the affection and warm-hearted loyalty we all bear to our King.

New Zealand will follow her after-life and those of her children with the genuine interest of the heart, her health, and her happiness, and that of thonse belonging to her will ever concern us, and she may remain assured that if ever she cares to re-visit ‘the colony r where she has done so much good, she will receive a welcome so enthusiastic that it will show that our gratitude and affection are not merely tire words of to-day, but will exist while we have life to wave hats withal and breath to cheer with.

New Zealand and the St. Louis Exposition. What is New Zealand going to do at the St. Louis Exposition—unquestionably the greatest affair of its sort the world has ever seen! At present an extraordinary apathy and even ignorance with regard to the whole project seems io prevail, and it appears not unlikely that the colony will lose the finest oppof-

tunity of bringing itself before the eyes of the world, and advertising its productiveness and scenic and other attractions that has ever been offered. The Government have been curiously and reprehensibly inactive in the matter, for they have not, so far as one can ascertain, made any arrangement for an exhibit themselves, nor have they sought to stimulate public interest in the direction of sending representative exhibits of our various products and industries to St. Louis. Minister McGowan has, I believe, stated that the terms offered the colony by the Exposition authorities were “liberal,” but the adjective is somewhat inadequate to the case. As a matter of fact, when New Zealand seemed somewhat shy of coming to the fore, Consul-General Dillingham, of Auckland, was authorised to oiler the New Zealand Government such space at it might require gratis rather than the colony should not be represented. The ConsulGeneral was, by the way, offered the post of Commissioner for the Exposition for Australia and New Zealand, but his already heavy duties and responsibilities prevented his accepting the same. So far no move appears to have been made, and there are now but few months to’ act in, or the ehance will be lost. But surely the Government are not going to let the chance go by? The Exposition will without doubt be the most magnificent the world has seen, and will be visited by millions more than attended either the great affairs of Chicago or Paris. Sixty millions have already been spent on the Exposition, and it is estimated at least twenty more millions will be paid out before the opening day. Visitors will come from every part of the globe, and every part of the world will be represented, and it will certainly be the greatest of pities if New Zealand alone is utterly unrepresented. By the Sierra on December 4 Mr C. Green. Commissioner for the Exposition in this part of the world, will arrive from Sydney, and he proposes to go to Wellington, whither he has asked Consul-Gen-eral Dillingham to accompany him, to endeavour to pursuade the Government to do something adequate at the Exposition. He also proposes to address the various Chambers of Commerce, and to interview some of the more prominent commercial men and merchants with a view of securing their influence and cooperation in the same direction. Ona hopes the efforts of this envoy will be successful, and that not the least interesting and attractive of the many thousands of exhibits at St. Louis will be that from New Zealand.

Leaders of Men. There are two classes of men for whom» I have a high regard—sailors and miners. Daily contact with danger gives them a distinctive character hard to find in other walks of life. My admiration for those that go down to the sea in ships was increased last week by reading of the incidents in the burning of the island steamer Ovalau. Most of all, perhaps, one allmired Catpain Todd. True, without other brave men to help him, one brave man would be helpless in such circumstances, but reading between the lines one realises that in addition to being a brave man Captain Todd is one of those favoured children of fortune—"a leader of men.” He is possessed in some degree of that power, which, like faith, can move mountains, and whenever the average man comes across it he admires it more than anything else in this world. Many of us cannot see eye to eye with Mr. Seddon, but secretly we all admire the power by which for the past ten years he has held the House of Representatives in the hollow of his hand. It would be hard to say what power or quality it is which gives one man such a remarkable ascendancy over his fellows as to enable

him to sway hundreds, nay thousands, but I saw a remarkable manifestation of it some two years ago down in Wellington. It was during the Financial debate. Several of the Opposition had stirred Mr. Seddon up with a long pole sufficiently sharp at the point to annoy that gentleman, and when the time came for his reply he shook his mane, and one could see that something out of the ordinary was on hand. It was just after the dinner adjournment, when the Colonial Treasurer, with a sheaf of notes in his hand, rose to reply. In theatrical parlance, there was a “beautiful house." The galleries were full, and there were very few empty benches. As he warmed to Iris subject his audience had eyes and ears for nothing else, and even the irreverent press gallery forgot any of the flippant remarks with which the gentry who inhabit that eyrie usually punctuate the ovations of the august Senators. It was just like a magnet in a packet of nails. “Time is up,” in the measured tones of the Speaker, broke the spell. As Mr. Seddon sat down there was a vigorous clapping of hands from the floor of the House, and a hum of applause came from the galleries. As the stentorian voice of the burly WestCoaster ceased you could feel the auditors “rise at him,” a saying I had often heard but never properly understood till that memorable evening. Call it personal magnetism or what you will, Mr. Seddon possesses some of that subtle power which led half a million men to tramp from Paris to Moscow in the wake of the “Little Corporal”; which drew the hordes of the East after Xerxes when that monarch crossed the Hellespont to smite the West; which enabled Alexander to march from Europe to India with whole armies at his back. In different ages the manifestations have taken various forms, but the power has always been the same, and is it any wonder that mankind makes heroes of the possessors’

Luck. Call it luck, chance, coincidence, or what one will, that inscrutable “something” which brings to one man a set of pleasant circumstances, and to another man, the reverse, does play some Puck-like pranks in its time. A somewhat amusing instance of the vagaries of this “something”—let us call it luck for want of a better name —came under my notice last week. It occurred at Ellerslie, and shows that it is sometimes better to be born lucky than wise —in racing matters. Three young men who were wandering round studying the very motley collection of humanity that surges round the outside “machine,” and the leather-lunged gentry who cry the odds alongside the rails, met and compared notes. Each knew about as little as the others concerning the finer points of the sport of kings. “How’ are you doing?” is the correct form at Ellerslie if you wish to know whether “the guns” or your friend is having the best of the deal, and this idiomatic bit of English elicited the fact that the trio had not been breaking the bank. “In spite of this,” remarked one of them, drawing from his purse a small green enamel and gold shamrock, which his better-half had given him for luck when he started out for Ellerslie. A wheezy hurdy-gurdy at the back of them was coughing out “Killarney” in fitful gasps- “Irish air and shamrock- —a good omen this,” said one of his friends. “Let’s look at the card and see if ‘green and gold’ figures on the list?” A search revealed the fact that Marine in the Steeplechase was the first horse carrying those colours. Knowing nothing about the game, and knowing they knew nothing about it, they laughingly decided to pin their faith on the “dear little shamrock” and wait for Marine—who. I may say, was considered to have little or no chance. When the time came they all backed the green and gold colours, and after a race in which the favourite fell and other unexpected events happened, Marine won by two lengths and paid a “divvy” of several pounds. The shamrock wasn’t such a bad judge after all. Sweet Marie, a rank outsider, was the next prad to carry the mystic colours, and as a matter of course the trio was on this also. Sweet Marie ran second and paid all but £B. If none of my readers believe in luck, I know three men at all events wllo ffo.

A Mutual Improvement Society Joke. An elaborate joke was oner worked off on a dull literary dub, which never loses au opportunity of advertising itself, and posing as an authority on literary matters. A young professional man having promised to read a paper, forgot all about it until this day before he had to deliver it. There was no time to prepare it then, so he apologised to the audience, and said that with their permission he would substitute for the original subject a lecture on the great poets of the Pamir Plateau. He proceeded to enter upon a detailed description of the work of Sulienian Zuffar, whose work, he remarked, was known to everyone of culture in the English-speaking world. The lecturer outlined the aspirations of Sulienian with liberal quotations from his poem, ‘‘The Daughter of the Sunset,” and showed the distinction between SuMeman’s methods and those of the poet who founded the Pamir school. Igma Khan, dismissing Igma as a writer of little literary merit, but entitled to all praise for the influence he exerted over Sulienian and his great contemporaries, Bushna Brahm and Tintac Kobo. The lecturer was applauded at frequent intervals, and sat down with everybody saying how nice his address was. Then there arose another young man, who patronlsingly described the lecture as able and scholarly. He regretted, however, that so much research should have been undertaken by one with so little judgment as the lecturer. The audience seemed quite shocked. This young man was almost offensive in his frankness, holding that Sulienian was nothing but a plagiarist, and a bad one at that. The incomparable works of Tintac Kobo stamped that writer as the real poet of the Pamir. His was the idea for “The Daughter of the Sunset,” which had been stolen by the incompetent Sulienian. The next turn in the discussion was taken by a third young man, who showed that both the others were mistaken, and that the real genius of the Pamir was Toohorna, whose name had not been mentioned so far. He gave quotations, with dates of publication, to show that both Sulieinan and Tintac were indebted for all their best ideas to Toohorna, and recalled to the minds of the audience facts that nobody dared to contradict, to show that the whole of the poetry of the Pamir was particularly hrs. One point on which all speakers agreed was that the Pamir had given the world the greatest poetry, whoever wrote it, that has yet been read. The audience concurred in this view, and it was not for some months that they discovered that the lecturer and two of his friends had simply invented the whole story of the Pamir poets to cover his omission to prepare a paper.