After Dinner Gossipand Echoes of the Week.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXIII, Issue XXIV, 10 December 1904, Page 16

After Dinner Gossip—and Echoes of the Week.

The Weather. That conventional first refuge of the incompetent conversationalist, “The Weather,” has really occupied first place as a serious topic of the past week with all sorts and conditions of men. The adjectives applied to it have varied, according to the vocabulary and taste of the talkers, from the vulgar swear word to the carefully veneered and highly polished objurgations of the cultivated pedant, but there has been complete unanimity of sentiment. Anything more . . but there, fill in the condemnation for yourselves, ft would really seem as if we had broken the record for rain, cold, wind and general unnientionableness of unpleasantness, so that that most admirable relative of the redoubtable Mrs. Harris, the oldest inhabitant, is credited with pronouncing that through the length and breadth of the colony this is the most adverse spring in the recollection of the present generation. Certainly it has deserved all the hard things that have been said of it, and at the time of writing shows no intention or hope of better things. Even an occasional fine or calm day now raises the spirits but slightly, for there remains the depressing conviction that it will be paid for by some inclement or unseasonable vagary and variety of wind and water on the morrow. It is a common belief that our seasons here follow almost exactly those experienced in the Old Country, and that a wet season “at Home’’ will be followed by similar damp dismalness out here. But this theory, to the correctness of which many plausible examples may be cited, goes very completely to the wall this year, for Europe at largo and England in particular experienced a summer which for charm, warmth and length broke the record of many years. Several recently returned friends and acquaintances who spent the last six months or so doing the usual Old Country and Continental tour, relate that they did not experience half-a-dozen wet days all the time they were away; we. on the other hand, have already had what would be an ample share for the whole year, and summer seems as far off, from the feel of the air, as it was in August. There seems to be a pretty general opinion that our climate is changing, and it must be admitted that, save for certain weeks in April and May. it has not for scene years past merit'd tire enlogium of “glorious,” to which we still cling, but which lias become a mere “facon de parlez.” How long ago is it since we had one of those long, settled summers, to which memory carries us back when we think of the days of our youth, or does memory—an unreliable jade—mislead us, an<T were the summers really no finer, only that we were younger and do but recall the sun and the joyfulness of adolescence? The brighter spots of life are, thank God, retained, when the shadows are forgotten, and when we fall into reverie of days gone by wo do remember best the sunlight. Yet, sitting down to cross-examine reminiscence, it does truly seem ns if there had been a change, and for the worse. Surely summer in the North, at all events, used to be well upon us in November, and from theuee on, hut certainly from December to May you could fix a date for a picnic or a pleasure trip or outdoor enter ainment with confidence, knowing that it Mould be a very “outside chance” that you Mould have a wet, far less a cold or unseasonable day. But not so now. We look upon it in the vulgar phrase as a "toss up” if we shall have fine weather for the holidays, ami make our arrangements uith an unquiet and apprehensive mind. Nor, does it seem to tlie Mritcr. do wc get the heat we used to say twenty or even fifteen years ago. The truly sub-tropical midsummer day, blazing sun and cloudless sky seems to have disappeared, and in its place we gel a steamy muggnress uhieh is far mote trying. Tliere was, by- the way, an exceptional instance of wlint one might term tlie old fa hioned New Zealand summer day some five or six years since. It was n New Year's Day, and those who were picnicking or at the racecourse or anywhere out of doors will certainly •Mily recall ft. It was gorgeously- hot.

Full measure of sun and running over. True some folk grumbled and a few fainted, but there is no pleasing all even in things climatic, and the majority, one believes, revelled therein. Anyhow-, it would be pleasant to have a few sueh days now, and see an end of these raging winds and this seemingly- eternal rain. It is time the weather authorities mended their ways. We want a change. Let us endeavour to hope we shall get it—and soon. + + + » The Morality Play and Its Value. The production by the KnightJeffries Company of “Everyman,” one of the old morality plays of early England, is, so far as the writer’s memory serves, an absolute innovation in the colonial history of drama. Nothing anyway similar has previously been attempted, and the experiment was one which must have caused Mr Williamson, Mr Knight, and all those concerned, very considerable anxiety, for between absolute success and ludicrous fiasco, there was no middle place. If such a production failed to impress and impress in detail as well as in general, it must have aroused ridicule and given grave offence to those to whom religion is more than a name. “Everyman” is not a production on which to write a dramatic criticism, and if it Mere it would be dealt with in another portion of this paper, but it seems desirable to say here that the initial production in Auckland will never be forgotten by those who witnessed it. and that it was followed with a breathless interest amid an atmosphere of reverence and complete understanding which spoke volumes for the skill of those who took part. Completely well done, the medieval air duly preserved, and a severe restraint on every hand, both in acting, mounting and general effect, “Everyman” was a production of which Mr Williamson and his company may be justly proud, and which will assuredly create an intense interest whenever and wherever it may be repeated. And this brings us at once to the question, Is the production of such plays as this desirable, and does it serve a high purpose? Before seeing “Everyman” List week the writer certainly had his doubts, but these have been completely removed, and it is emphatically his opinion that nothing but good can come of sueh a play when so. produced. The certainty of death, and the fact that the next second may be our last, is familiar, yet somehow we never do realise it completely. We see it fall on others, but wo make an almost unconscious exception of our own case. We never (in health, at all events) fully realise it may be to-day with us. And probably this is not entirely ill. To be constantly and vividly conscious that in the midst of life we are in death Mould make many men and women morbid and miserable. But it is assuredly for our good to have the lesson brought, home to us occasionally, and the play “Everyman” does this in a manner which note who witness it can, even if they would, disregard. We

sec everyday instances of sudden death. Me know those stricken have to render the Almighty their account, but because the instances arc so many they pass us by, and do not. touch the imagination.. Not. so uith “Everyman.” There on the stage in flic plentitudg of health, high spirits and full enjoyment of all that makes life desirable, we sec the presentment of “Everyman” - suddenly summoned to the Eternal Presence to render the- account of his life, and every unit in the audience says to his or her soul, “That is mysajf.” The agony, the despairing appeals for a little respite, the fruitless endeavours 1o gain comradeship for the journey, bring our personal position in tlie matter home with a keen sudden sense of reality which it is entirely impossible to describe. It leaves an fcnpression which no hook or no sermon could do, and if it is desirable that we

should think on sueh thing* seriously now and then, why assuredly the careful and reverent produetion of such a play as this is to be desired. It is to be hoped Mr WiUiameoa will repeat tlie performance in New Zealand and its production in Australia and it* reception there will be awaited with interest. + ♦ ♦ Christman and the Giving of Gifts. Christmas is again upon us, and there again looms before us the annual question of presents. No doubt there is virtue in tire custom, so far as children are concerned, and unquestionably with regard to the poor, but it must be confessed that there has of late years been a tendency to abuse in this as in so many other matters, and the occasion seems opportune to call serious attention to this matter. As a colonial community we are simpler in our ways than bur same class at Home, but we are marvellously inclined .to imitate their foibles. Of the many foolish institutions which prevail in modern social life few are productive of more genuine discomfort than the custom of making unnecessary presents, i.e., giving, not to supply other people’s wants, but merely because the donor is animated by friendly feelings—or at all events wishes to look as if he were. So says the writer of a most able article in a paper on this subject which was printed in the “Nineteenth Century” some little while back, and as the Saturnalia of gift-giving approaches it will be interesting and perhaps useful to go further into the same. Surely it is time a protest was made against this giving for the sake of giving — which is about as reasonable a practice as talking fibr the sake of talking—for under the cloak of kindness there has crept into the world one of the most irritating of social pests; arbitrary in its choice, for it does not let you give to whom you will; mercantile in its essence, for each man is bound both in his own eyes and those of the donor to make a fitting return, and maddening in the drain it makes on the intellect of the purchaser, who is not merely harassed by his ignorance of the other person’s tastes, but is genuinely anxious to get the best show for his money.

Doubtless in theory (says the “Nineteenth Century” author) it is a beautiful thing to give, and when one is quite young it is a joy to receive, but the system of anniversary gifts in vogue nowadays is the very antithesis of “the quality of Mercy,” it blesses neither him that gives nor him that takes; certainly not the donor, for whom, if he does the thing handsomel.y, a due observance of birthdays, weddings, and other occasions to which the idle fancy of man has attached the custom of giving, makes up a formidable item in his yearly expenditure, as well as an untold amount of suffering in the selection of an appropriate offering; neither ean the receiver be congratulated on finding himself in possession of one more useful article, which is generally quite different from what he would himself have chosen, and yet leaves him the debtor of the donor till it is repaid. We do not perhaps suffer so much in the colonies as the unfortunates who constitute “the smart set” in England, but the reader has only to skim through the list of presents published in any account of a fashionable wedding as chronicled by’ our lady correspondents in the “Graphic” to know that even in New Zealand the wedding present tax has assumed senseless and onerous proportions. Moreover, the evil is one which is growing, and is one, therefore, which we should as good colonists set our mind to check.

From an ethical point of view the real objection to making presents is that every gift constitutes an infringement of the liberty of the subject. If the world really believed that it was more blessed to give than to receive, the man who took presents without making any would be looked on as a public benefactor; the fact that he is regarded as a curmudgeon proves that the world looks on a gift as an obligation. And yet, despite the ereTinereasing difficulty of maintaining One’S freedom amid the responsibilities of daily life, w’e wantonly add to our brother’s burden by binding gifts upon his back. Ere the hapless infant ean repudiate its responsibilities in articulate speech, god parents and friends of the family take advantage of its helplessness to thrust upon it christening mugs, sp .ons and forks, and nest-eggs for the savings

bank. Thus started on his downward career .the child grows up to look oh prt; sent* as his natural right, and to feet < strong sense of injustice if the expected tip is not forthoomir.g. It Is not till later on. that a. truer morality begins M assert itself, and he feels un omfortaWa at the idea of receiving presents, so that often, wliile his lips are framed to grate*’ ful words, Ilia inner spirit is murmuring,' "Might have been sold for two hundred jrenee and given to the poor;” not that thia xetieetion will at all prevent hit trying to rid himself of his obligations by transferring them, in the ghrrpj ot fresh presents, to the rising gem ration. Howcvea, his- friends, perceiving his attitude, grow more considerate, anti forbear to remind him by birthday gifts of his dwindling span, though they take an ample vengeance, when, he has pass d beyond, aH power of protest, by piling his bier with wreaths and crosses.

With regard to the things them-.elvcs, too, it is well to bear in mind the maxim). “Let the buyer btwave;” for only a very, limited number of articles are looked on as appropriate offerings. In the matter of food, for instance, any birds, beasts, or fishes which I Imve slain with my own hand will be aeecpted) hy my neighbour as a proof of goodwill; but a leg of mutton or a sweetbread left at his house with my card will almost certainly be taken as an insult. Chocolates and sweetmeats are, of eonrse, permissible, and oven cakes and biscuits of the more frivolous kind; but it vouhl he regarded as a gross breach of decorum. to offer a friend anything which ceuhl appease his hunger or sustain his life. At Christmas time, if one may judge font the shop windows, there is an extra license in tins respect, the national conscience having probably gone so completely off its balance from continual reading of the "Christmas Carol” that to assail one’s friends: with cheeses and turkeys is looked on as part of the orthodox Saturnalia. But, with a few trilling esceptions, the rule holds good that a gift to lie wholly complimentary must be wholly, useless, and that only a person entirely devoid of decency will so far insult his friends as to offer them any of the necessaries of life. It is natural tliat one should branch off here into the evergreen question of shouting and to ponder on the strangeness of the anomaly which makes it a virtue for me to pc jr for a man’s drink, but makes it “banal” to offer him sixpennj- worth of food; but tlie long excerpts from the “Nineteenth Century” have already mad* this article over-lengthy, so that phase of unnecessary airing must be left to take care of itself. + * * Keeping His Own Counsel. Someone Jias said that wards were' given man for the purpose of concealing his thoughts, and another person has remarked that the art of public speaking lies in deluging your audience with words without leaving any definite impression on their minds. If anyone believes in these two sayings, and acts up to them, Mr Seffdon is the man. 0u« can never be certain of what he means, or, to be more explicit, one ean never pin him down to saying what one thinks he means. Ha is a past-master in the art of framing sentences so as to always leave a hole through which ho can duck his head when people begin to throw things. After listening to one of his characteristic speeches you gather certain impressions and proceed to act on. them, but are somewhat .disconcerted to find that the author of the words you suppose you are acting upon denies having used them. There is generally a secretarial shorthand, wiife.* around when Mr Seddon is making a speech, and' you are politely referred to the note’ if you persist in holding’to your contention that Mr Soffdoo saßl “so-and-so.” Aitff, sure en mgh, you Mill find that he said “SiK-h-and-sWeli.” The nuance is very slight—almost irnpf recpfibfc—but it is just sufficient! to change the whole import of what yen thought the great man hail sniff. This annoys some people, buff after all it is the natural and legitimate defence of the popular orator. Think if Mr Seddon had to mean all- he said, or all yoii thought he said. The ptnwpect is really ton appalling. He is the Niagara of oratory, and, to carry the simile further, we may Kken his little arts st ote fnscatlon to the spray and foam which hide the real water. The High Conw missionerahip is the latest subject npe on wMch Mr ScxMow haw Wen using hat words—- torrents of ’em—to conceal hit

thoughts. Everybody wants to know what he is going to do in the matter. Is he going to take the billet or is be not? And people are quite short in the temper- because he won’t tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. If he were a mere private person he could tell people to mind their own business, hut publicity and popularity ever did carry with them certain pains and penalties. Personally, I also must confess to some pardonable curiosity as to “the King’s” future movements, but would not like to press it to the point reached by some people, who use bad language because, he declines to let them into the debatings of his mind. It isn’t a matter of state, after all, is it? Judging from my experience of Mr Scddon, the explanation of the situation is clear. lie will hold on to the Premiership of New Zealand as long as he can. The Prime Minister in a colony of some 809,000 people in these days of Empire and “luinds all round” among the British looms up very large indeed alongside the highest “Commissioner” who was ever hoisted to position. Mr Seddon’s health is the only disturbing factor in the. ease. If that break down he will have to eschew the strenuous life of the politician, and the High Commissionership would presumably be the most honourable retreat for the old war-horse. A man like Mr Seddo.n would naturally shrink from telling his hopes and fears to the crowd—'in fact, if he did he would not be the great man he is—and this phase of the question reminds us of the awful isolation of the man in high authority. Do you remember Kipling’s pathetic tale of the loneliness of the Admiral in “A Fleet in Being”? It is very true, and to the ordinary confiding mortal this impossibility of indulging in the luxury of a confidant or two would make life intolerable. * * * A Good Story. Hospital nurses occasionally have very amusing experiences when they exchange the hospital for private work. The first private case that fell to a nurse lately was in one of the western suburbs, and despite the fact that her patient, a little girl, was very ill, the “kudos” obtained from the presence of a trained nurse, the frequent visits- of a doctor in h’s carriage, and the general air of importance seemed to quite compensate the parents. “Nurse,” said the mother, “would you go for a pound of candles for me?” The nurse demurred, but finally gave in, considerably amused, for the reason she was sent the message was that the grocer and his wife should be impressed. She bought the cand'es, and had them entered to Mrs Black, as had been desired, and was conscious on her way backwards and forwards of slanted window blinds and faces behind curtains. “If they carry her out,” said the mother, referring to the patient, “I’m not sure that. I wouldn’t like the coffin all white, with her name on it in silver tacks.” “She’s not going to die,” said the nurse sharply. “No, pray heaven, no. but one must be prepared for the worst. Mrs Blank’d send Howers, wo sent a wreath when her baby died; and I think it’d be up to Mrs Dash to send a wreath, too, we’ve dealt there Tegular. However, we must hope for the best.” “ Creditors Generally.” The law assumes now and then a sportive mood, and then ils grave professors foot u measure with the bravest, of gallants. Beneath the fell swoop of technicalities, legions whole of meritorious facts lie done to an unworthy death, and the cap and bells of the law make jocund revel on the corps s of the slain! But your legal humorist i-t fickle (writes “Lex” in the “Australasian”). Anon the mood changes, and then let technicality beware, whilst sound common sense and fa : r justice have their way. Thus in years past it was solemnly decreed that “creditors generally” in a deed of assignment of a debtor's goods moans all his creditors. Now with that conclusion few would wish to wage war. But suppose the deed was expressed to bo for the benefit of all such persons as the trustee shall adjudge on evidence to be creditors. Did that ineludc all creditors? Why, no, quoth the law, for it may bo that the trustee would improperly exclude some creditor, and so the disposition is not necessarily for the

benefit of the creditors generally. Whence it followed that the signing by the debtor of ths deed of assignment was not an act of insolvency within the meaning of the Insolvency Statute, and so the debtor could not be made insolvent on the basis of the assignment of all his property, but had the chance of putting the petitioning creditor to the expense of proving some other ground for obtaining a sequestration. Lately, however, the Court (or a majority of its members) has come to the conclusion that there has been too much legal refinement and too little reasonable reading of the phrase “creditors generally.” So it is held that where a debtor assigned his assets to a trustee in favour of such persons as by reasonable efforts should establish their right to be included as creditors, the deed should be treated as one for the benefit of creditors generally, and a sound basis for a petition for the sequestration of the estate of the debtor- at hands of a creditor who had not come in under the assignment.