From a Club Window

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 1, 5 January 1907, Page 33

From a Club Window

By

MARMADUKE

■W BfcHAT a lot of good fellows we aA / ,n, ‘<t at holiday time whom B/Bf we never see all the rest of " V the year. I ran across a par-

son who is generally exiled in the back-blocks, lx it who somehow or others manages to keep up his reading, an old skipper who has seen much of life from his bridge, a very Tory old farmer who denounces the Government and all its ways, and a prominent Government M.H.R. We celebrated our meeting by all dining together, and having a chat on the gossip of the day. The Skipper: What abominable roads you have for motoring. 1 see you have reliability contests instead of speed tests. What you want is not motor cars but armoured waggens built on the steam roller principle. I was nearly sea-sick for the first time in my life when I foolishly went out for a spin in a friend's motor the other day. Give me a tornado. I say. and a good ship under me. It is far safer. The M.H.R.: Don’t abuse our roads, skipper. We are only' a young country, and every little place in the colony expects Government to make a metalled road to its front door. The settlers think we are made of money, and will expect us to provide wooden blocks next.

The Farmer: As long as we send our thickest wooden blockheads to Parliament we can t hope to use them for such useful purpose as roads. I tell you. sir, it is a disgrace that we who make the backbone of the country should often be unable to get our produce to market. I have to keep a staff of nien to dig my carts out of the clay in whiter. Aye, sir, I have even in walking had to dig myself out with a spade. The Parson: I reckon they don’t have parsons up your way to teach you the value of sober truth. I know something of bad travelling, and understand why the prophet says ’’ Woe to him that ladeth himself with thick clay.” By the way. I see that the pro-Boers are now pro-Baboos. and are clamouring for Home Rule for India. All empires tend to disintegrate under democracy. Witness the Macedonian. The Farmer: I am glad to hear you say that. Parson. The rule of the people means the rule of those who have no stake in the country. I have bought my land, and worked like a slave to develop it, and I have no more sav in the Government than any publichouse loafer. The British Empire will fall to pieces unless they get Balfour and Chamberlain back.

The -Skipper: My ship would soon founder if I let my wen dictate to me. which, thank Heaven. I don’t. You want a strong man to run the ship of State, and you want white men under you. I know something about niggers, and I would never have them on board my ship. 'ihe jf.H.R.; But the country I "belongs to tile people, and why should they not govern it? We conquered India by our superior force of arms, and made out it was for the good of the natives. We have educated them now for over a hundred years, and why should we not allow' them to hale a say in their own affairs? If they are not tit to be trusted it does not sav much for all our missionary and educational work. The Parson; The mention of Chamberlain reminds me how utterly the Education squabble has ousted the Fiscal question. Crewe *‘as had a bad time of it with the bishops. The colonies are much more interested in the question of preferential tariffs than in sectarian disThe great British public are like the old lady in the. song, who has been carried beyond her station, and Vainly calls out to the railway porter: “Ohl Mr. Porter, what shall I <1..? • want to gn to Birmingham. but vou’re •witebvd me on to Crewe.”

The Skipper: If I remember right. Parson, I used to hear that song sung by a very short-skirted young lady at a London music-hall, but doubtless you heard it elsewhere.

The Parson: To change the subject, I sec the Melbourne people are much exercised because a speaker at the recent Church Congress said the Australian youth was lacking in reverence and respect for his parents. I must confess that I have not found him worse in this respect than his English confrere. The Skipper: I had a young English blood once on board my ship whose father, a man of title, liad got badly mixed up in company promoting. When we touched at the Cape we got some papers, and I saw that the father had been sentenced. I wanted to keep the papers out of the son’s way, but I saw he had got hold of one, and was reading the cables. ‘’Hullo!” he said. “The Guv’nor’s got six months. That will take the curl out of his tail.” The M.H.R.: Well, boys, shall we have another round? I suppose you’ll join us, Parson, as it’s Christmas time.” © © © Lord Crewe, who had charge of the belligerent Education Bill in the House of Lords, has inherited much of his father’s genius without his father’s eccentricities. He is a strikingly handsome man, and is regarded as the George Wyndham of the Upper House. The tragic circumstances attending the death of his first wife gave him a look of interesting melancholy, which made him an object of great interest to the ladies of the Dublin Court when he was Viceroy. He takes a great interest in New Zealand, regarding it as the most essentially prosperous of our colonies. His father. Lord Houghton, used to say that some people had so many talents that they never took more than a second class in lite. This has proved true of most of the Milnes family: they do too many things well to ever do any one thing really excellently. Lady Galway was the only one to achieve unique distinction, she having been known for some years as the worst dressed woman in London.

How much we do from sheer idleness. The morning glass of shery at the club—we don’t want it, only wc must do something. The same, applies to much of our reading. We don’t really care if Bill Smith has been fined 10/ for being drunk and disorderly, but we read the record of his misdoings with a languid interest because after all we must read some thing, and the paper is a capital refuge from the club bore. Anything is better just now' than the Fiscal question: even a debate in the German Reichstag begins to wear an aspect of novelty by comparison. Some fellow’s get their hair cut, and others get their nails cut. just for laek of something else to do. The same remark generally applies to having your hat ironed. One man’s idleness makes another man’s work. It is delightful to have really nothing particular to do, and to settle down in a big armchair, with a pipe and a book and a glass of something at your elbow. In some such mood 1 have been dipping into Sir Samuel Hall’s “ Oxford Movement.” He is not as gossipy as dear old Mozley, who was a regular o’.l woman for anecdote, and he writes too much like a judge summing up to make really chatty reading. But be has one or two good things about W. G. Ward. \\ hat a strange mixture Ward was! He convulsed all Oxford by his fiery advocacy of clerical celibacy, and submitted to be deprived of his degrees and publicly censured, and all the time he was himself engaged to be married. He did not mention this fact, we are told, for fear it might prejudice bis argument.