News of the Dominion.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLV, Issue 23, 7 December 1910, Page 4

News of the Dominion.

OUR WELLINGTON LETTER.

WELLINGTON, December 2. The End of the Session. L> / IT S 1 write, Parliament is in its last y I hours, winding up its tangled. J I skein of work in a frantic hurry in order to catch the week-end trains and steamers. The last week of the session has certainly not lacked excitement. There was the finale of the Hine charges inquiry, which ended in a virtual "Not Guilty, but don’t do it again," for most of the accused persons, and a verdict of‘‘Guilty*’ for Mr. Henare Kaihau, who was censured by the House for his improper practices in taking payment from constituents for presenting petitions to Parliament for them. When the massive—but ■‘slim’’ —Henare was escorted back into the House by the Sergeant-of-Arnns to hear his sentence, and the speaker solemnly informed him of the resolution of censure, he very courteously and ceremoniously returned thanks, which somehow seemed to rob the eensure of a good deal of its sting. Henare is nothing if not polite. Sir* Joseph in Self-defence. But the most sensational incident of the week was Sir Joseph’s impassioned, manly speech in his owu defence. This was a sort of side-line to the Hine inquiry discussion. Mr. Tommy Taylor set the ball rolling by alluding to the scurrilous pamphlet concerning Sir Joseph Ward, which his been circulated lately throughout New Zealand. “It is the moot disgraceful pamphlet that has ever been connected with the polities of this country,’’ said Mr. Taylor, who proceeded to roundly slate all connected with its publication. It was the greatest scandal that had ever emanated from the press, he said. Whether the Opposition members of Parliament approved the circulation of this pamhlet or not —and he hoped they didn't—the fact remained that the thing was being received with gleeful approval by thousands of men who supported them. Mr. Massey made a strenuous denial of the imputation that the Opposition was responsible for “that wretched pamphlet.’’ One of the owners of the socialistic paper, “The Leader,” in Auckland published it. Then came Sir Joseph’s indignant speech, in which he defended himself most effectively against the abuse and libels of his enemies. The scene of enthusiasm which followed was probably unprecedented in the New Zealand Parliament. The whole of the Government members rose and loudly 7 cheered the Prime Minister after hand clapping him heartily. Later Mr. Allen, Mr. Herdman, Mr. Buchanan, ami Mr. Herries spoke, ail voicing the disgust of the Opposition at the miserable and scandalous pamphlet. Its publication. Mr. Herries said, was a “low-down” thing, to which no member of the Opposition would lend himself. This evening there was an unusual compliment paid to Sir Joseph Ward, as the outcome of the excursion on the now notorious pamphlet. The Legislative Council made a special adjournment, and invited the Prime Minister into the Chamber to n-eeive an assurance of the Council's sympathy with him. There were some warm hearted and very sympathetic speeches, ineluding one from the venerable Sir Charles C. Bowen, the Speaker of the Council. The Council, Sir Joseph was assured, heartily sympathised with him, as the result of the underhand attacks made on him; they met not as a party, not as politicians, but as men, to assure him of their heartfelt esteem and sympathy, and to congratulate him on the warmth and extent of the feeling for him right through New Zealand. “ Flapdoodle " in Parliament. f don't think anyone will venture to deny that “flapdoodle” is talked in Parliament. Quite a lot of it, in fact. Some severe critics may go further, and say that most of the Parliamentary talk is "flapdoodle.” Anil this evening in the House the Chairman of Committees ruled that it was alhrwable for an honourable member to describe another honourable member’s utterances as “ftapdoodla,’’ It was Mr William Jennings, MJP., who obtained the ruling. Me.

Jennings was pleading for more consideration for the hard-working back-blocks settler in the way of roads and bridges, whereupon the Hon. Roderick McKenzie, Minister of Publie Works—who has developed this session quite a Sir Harry Atkinson-like tendency for using Parliamental y hob-nailed boots—rose and s *id in hard Caledonian accents that in view of the large sums spent in the Taumarunui electorate Mr Jennings’ remarks could only be regarded as flapdoodle. Mr Jennings was up quick and lively. He asked “the Minister for Courtesy and Public Works ’ to explain what be meant. Then he asked the Chairman of Committee. Mr Colvin, to rule whether "flapdoodle’’ was a Parliamentary expression or not. Mr Colvin was much worried over it. He confessed that he couldn’t explain what “flapdoodle” meant, but as it had been permitted before in the House it must be Parliamentary. Mr Jennings threatened' to divide the House on a motion to take the Speaker’s ruling on the question, but at last he gave in. saying he forgave the Minister because he (the Hon. Roderick Mac) was in a temper. And thus is history made. The “ Washing-up ” Bill. Every session there is a “Washing-up” Bill but this year’s beats the record in point of size and range. Its title in full: “An Act to Provide for the Sale, Reservation and other Disposition of certain reserves, Crown Lauds, other Lands and Endowments and to Confer Certain Powers on Certain Local Bodies.” It has 98 clauses, which, with the various schedules, makes up a booklet of sixty pages. It includes an amazing variety of subjects, and it is a marvel how some of the matters with which it deals come to be included under the title. Anything that can’t be disposed of in any other way goes into this legislative wash-tub, and comes out clean and fresh for tho Statute Book in Parliament's twentyfourth book. The Soaping of Wairoa Geyser. I hear that the Minister in charge of the Tourists’ Resorts is to be approached on behalf of Wairoa geyser, Whakarewarewa, with a view to stopping the soaping of the geyser for all kinds and variety of tourists. The limit was reached the other day, when the Government soaped the big blow hole for the entertainment of the Presbyterian ministers visiting Rotorua. This sort of thing is going beyond a joke. Wairoa is called upon to perform at frequent intervals at the sweet will of the Tourist Departmen. This is the way it is done. If you are some one of importance, say a clergyman from Dunedin or a surburban borough councillor from Melbourne, or a long-haired lecturer from ’Murka, you go to the Tourist Department's engineer at Rotorua, and inform him that you would like to see Wairoa play. If the engineer—who is a good man and knows his business—tries to put you off, bounce him a bit, and threaten to wire to the Premier. Eventually you get him to wire to the Hon. Tom McKenzie saying you would like the geyser soaped. The Hon. Tom replies affably, saying certainly the geyser will be soaped for you; no trouble at all, really a pleasure. So then you go out in state to Whakarewarewa, make a triumphal pro-.-eesion up through the squalid Maori village to the slumbering geyser, and with your own fair hands chock in the saponaceous stimulant. (Good phrase that, “saponaceous stimulant’’; I learned it from the Government caretaker at Whaka’.) ■ Then von wait twenty minutes or so, or perhaps an hour, and up she goes! Hooray! If “she” spouts fifty feet high, you are told it is a hundred and fifty, and you feel as proud of your performance in ‘‘sending her. up”—local phrase again—as a young husband does when his squalling first-born is brought to him by the nurse. And next day you read a full account of your feat in the Rotorua papers, stating that Wairoa “responded beautifully to the saponaceous stimulant, and rewarded* the onlookers with a magnificent shot of fully two hundred feet.” And Press Association wires appear in all the papers of the Dominion the day after that, again chronicling the fell deed, and mentioning that Wairoa spouted to an estimated height of three hundred and fifteen feet. And when you go back bo your

turnips or your grocery-chop, or your desk or your pulpit, you will say to your friends: “Look here, I myself with my own hands sent Wairoa up four hundred and twenty feet. The Government guide told me so; I saw him measuring it with an azimuth compass and an aneroid, so it must be right.” My word, it’s great! You try and get permission to soap it, too, when you go up. You’ve only got to wire to Tom Mackenzie. And that’s the way the soaping game goes on. Sometimes old Wairoa “turns rusty” on her tormentors, and spouts never a spout. The saponaceous stimulant only makes her gurgle angrily and spit spitefully and fitfully. Then the Government Custodian of Geysers puts the lid down again, and locks it —Wairoa is actually kept under lock and key —and spins you some fairy tale, to wit, that “the meteorological conditions are unfavourable to a hydro-thermal display, owing to the abnormality of the atmospheric pressure coinciding with a semi-quieseent phase in the subterranean passages.” Which, of course, explains Everything. The fact is that Wairoa is overworked, and there is a danger of it striking work altogether if these foolish soa pings go on. The Tourist Department should leave Wairoa alone for a year or two, and give it a chance to regain its natural working powers.