WITHIN THE COMMONWEALTH

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLII, Issue 19, 12 May 1909, Page 50

WITHIN THE COMMONWEALTH

From the Colonial Office. /q>lß CHARLES LUCAS has come waL and seen, but not conquered, bays /(jj the Melbourne “ Punch.” The Colonial Office h is not properly interpreted the-overseas demand for more sympathy and knowledge in the Dominions department. Sir ( harles is a Very distinguished English Civil servant - —a stamp never seen in Australia, and the kind of man who finds it hard to understand the free and easy style of our people and institutions. He is a scholar rather'than a clerk; a literary man rather than an administrative officer. The two members of the delegation arc veterans. Mr. Pearson has already born placed on the shelf. Sir Charles 3.ucas will shortly follow. Instead of Fending out young men who will have to work the suggested new Dominions Department. the Colonial Office has commissioned two gentlemanly greyb aids to study condition" repugnant to their whole life’s work. Sir Charles Lucas is a Baliiol scholar, and an author of solid worth. His “ History of the Canadian War of 1812” is a text hook, and his ‘•Historical Geography of the British Colonies” is easily the best of its kind. In London, in official circles, he is regarded as a most effective speaker, with a broad vein of liumour. Here in Melbourne one meets a tall, spare elderly man. with iron-grey iiair, of distinguished mien and polished manners. When seen in close proximity to our heads of departments, he looks like Charles Surface hobnobbing with the unnamed waiter in ‘ The Girl Behind th? Counter.”. The Australian interviewer lias taken away his breath. With care-fully-studied stateliness Sir Charles dictates a few high-sounding but pointless sentences, as if he* were taking the whole world into his innermost confidence, shakes his head solemnly when asked pertinent questions, and then solemnly and courteously bows himself away. The truth is the delegation belong, so far as Australia is concerned, to a byegone generation. 3'hey will have a pleasant six month"’ tour, see life through the eyes* of ClovenDient House, never, get close enough the people to interpret their wishes, return t” London and write, report" which may prove interesting essays, tint are hardly likely to create a Dominion* Department in close touch with the overseas possessions. <s> <s> Swagmaii s Shocking Fate. An unknown swagsman, apparently ebout 70 years of age. was accidentally killed in a tragic manner at Winion. Victoria. He had been begging for food about the township one. day, and in the evening he started a fire at the foot of a dry tree, and lay down to >lcep. During the night the tree burnt through! end fell on the unfortunate man’s head, crushing it badly. His i»ody was also burnt in places. The. district coroner feas given an order for burial. <s> G <& Mi ssioners. There is a whole army of women interested heart and soul in the work which these imported American mbsioner* ar<3 doing in Melbourne, remarks a writer in Punch.” One of these girls, who regards me as a frightful heathen because 1 do not go twice to church even Sunday, obtained a ticket for me to the Town ■Hall, to hear Dr. Chapman and his coOh! it was a dreary.business. Dr. Chapman is a sort of modern Jeremiah crying about “Sin” and the need [for revivals. It is easy to understand that Dr. < hapman. who i> a revivalist, {thinks there is a need for revivals, just ns the dressmaker ladieves * there is a frieed for new fashions. 1 got dreadfully tired of hearing Dr. Chapman talk, lie as a good story teller, though', and as he •told three or four stories in the course of his sermon, the monotony was some* yhat relieved. He almost whispered at times, and never speaks in a loud, contviitcing voice. You can imagine the result when anybody who wants to be heard whispers in the Town Hall. 1 was rear the front, but as far as the people at the )>ack were concerned, Dr. Chapman ought as well have been in New York for

all they heard. Have you ever done a perish on a far-off seat while somebody wagged his lips on the platform, and you heard nothing? Mr. Alexander is another story. He is in apjwaranc? the image of a well-known official in the External Affairs Department—no. -not Mr. At lee Hunt. That official is anything hut religiously inclined, and it seems incredible to look at Mr. Alexander, wiio is his double, talking religion an* singing religion all the time. To me, Mr. Alexander is on that account alone the supreme joke of the mission. No, not the suprein:? joke. There is a better one. and it is Dr. Chapman himself. He is the facsimile in appearance of Mr. Harry Rickards. The resemblance is strikingly funny. Just imagine Mr. Harry Rickards in glasses and solemnity, preaching Evangelism. 1 rearly died when Dr. Chapman appeared. I said to my little girl conductress, ‘’Who is that?” She said, in an awe-struck whisper, ‘‘Dr. Chapman.” Just then he stood up and said something about the service. He looked more like the coster comedian than ever, and 1 collapsed behind inv handkerchief.

Unkind. People are now complaining of the manner in which women wear their hair in the stalls of the theatres. After long agitation, man has succeeded in depriving the stall-going woman of her hat, and now, with the miserable selfishness that characterises most of his conduct, he seeks to deprive her of her hair. He is a bald person himself, as a rule, and like the fox who lost its tail, he would gladly see the woman as bald as himself. Letters are now appearing in the Press directed against the ladies’ hair, a ml in the theatre itself one hears constant complaints from miserable men. The other night at the Princess a lady in the stalls was requested to remove her hat. She complied quite graciously. A few minutes later the man bdiind was complaining of her hair. The lady l>ore it for some time, and then turned and said: “I have taken off my hat for you. I regret that I cannot take off my hair.” And the sullen wretch behind replied: “I don’t expect that, but 1 think that when you're going to the theotre you ought to have more consideration than to put it on.’’ <s> <♦> <s> A Music Mall Farewell. F am very loth to confess it, but I am inclined to think there is more inunev in

Sydney than in Melbourne just INMT (says M Melbourne writer). I suppose it is. the big prices received for the last wool clip that'accounts for the extra cash in the Harbour City, but whatever the reason, it is there all right. I slipped away to Sydney for a couple of days, and went to the Dudley's race ball. It was a superb function, and gorgeously brilliant. I would have been content to take the jewellery worn and have retired for life on the money 1 could have raised on it. Sydney, too, is ahead of us in another thing—the departure of the deep-sea liners. There is nothing more drab and dreary than our dirty Port Mellmurne pier. When crowded with people its dingy griminess is only made more dingy and grimy. Sydney’s piers are not- much better, but her citizens have hit upon a charming way to convert the humdrum waterside into a carnival picture. Ribbons of different coloured papers are thrown by the friends ashore to the voyageurs aboard. W hen some hundreds are stretched between ship and shore they look like a gigantic maypole dance. And as the stately liner sheer." off slowly, they gradually draw taught, and with the final strain snap dramatically, and flutter down into the water with a pleasantly pathetic sense of the ties sundered by the sea. Why can’t our travellers import a little romance into their departures?

(The Unionists are now preparing for a campaign to secure a slx-hours day.) . . LIBERAL PARTY' —My friend, do not forge, it is my goose that laid the golden eggs. As a layer your new bird may be * dismal failure. - . .