ECHOES OF THE WEEK

New Zealand Illustrated Sporting & Dramatic Review, Volume XII, Issue 710, 15 October 1903, Page 15

ECHOES OF THE WEEK

(By

“Ithuriel.”)

A NEW PSALM OF LIFE.

Let us then be up and doing, All becoming money kings ; We may some day be endowing Universities and things.

Lives of billionaires remind us That we’ve got to water stock, If we want to leave behind us Libraries on every block.

Mrs Boult’s evening at His Majesty s Theatre, on Saturday, was undoubtedly a very great success, for many of the dances performed by the pupils were really cleverly executed. Notably was this the case in that stately old world dance “ the Minuet,” and when watching the performers going through the graceful figure 1 could not help wishing that the dance might be inserted in our present-day ballroom programme instead of the wild scrimmage called by courtesy “ the Lancers.” The snowstorm dance was also the cause for much applause from the large audience, while the closing tableaux made a strikingly beautiful stage picture, and one which reflected very great credit on the clever instructress.

A yarn comes from Taranaki that ought to be eagerly seize d by my prohibition friends to hang a moral on. A couple residing in one of the small towns were engaged to be married, and on the day appointed for “ doing the deed ” they came into town arrayed in their best, and accompanied by several friends, including a brother of the bridegroom, who was to officiate as best man. which, as the sequel showed, he proved himself to be in quite an unexpected way. Leaving the blushing damsel in charge of his brother, the bridegroom adjourned to an hotel to prepare himself for the ordeal before him with “ something hot.” In the bar he met some friends, and, amidst their congratulations, had another glass, and then another, till before long he became quite oblivious of the circumstances, to the wedding party, to the waiting bride, and to everything. Meanwh* ,le the bride and the rest of the party became anxious and then annoyed. At last a party was despatched in search of the derelict bridegroom, which brought back word that they had found him on the floor of the bar too drunk even to stand. The bride declared herself to be insulted, and said she would have nothing more to do with him : but had 'come to be married, and if the best man would have her, he had the chance now. The latter, after a few moments’ thought, chivalrously declared himself ready to extricate her from the difficulty, and started off for a license. On his return the knot was tied, and the best man carried off the prize, and the drunken bridegroom (that was to be) was left to become sober at his leisure, and arrive at a knowledge of the remarkable turn affairs had taken.

A good story is going the rounds about Paddy O’Sullivan, an old-time Queensland politician, whose son has been appointed to the Upper House as a Minister representing the Morgan Ministry. When the elder O’Sullivan was in the hey-day of his political career, a violent attack was made on one J. 0. Bryant, an inspector of distilleries. O’Sullivan immediately rose and vigorously defended the maligned official. When the House adjourned Macrossan said to O’Sullivan, “ You were very magnanimous! to-night, Paddy, sticking up for Bryant.” “ I didn’t stick up for Bryant,” said Paddy. “ Oh, yes, you did,” said Macrossan. “You defended J. 0. Bryant, one of your bitterest political opponents, and a bigoted Orangeman !” “The divil 1” said Paddy, “ I thought it was someone named O’Brien I”

From Adelaide, city of churches and charities “ Have you anything to say for yourself ?” asked the magistrate. “ Mell, your grace —I mean, your lordship --I ope you won’t be ’ard on a poor cove,” replied the prisoner at the bar. “ I hadmit that I stole the leg of mutton, but times is werry bad, and I’ve got a wife and seven children, your graceship —I mean your honour —and it’s difficult to perwide for them. Hon the day I took the mutton hoff the ’ook they’d nothing to heat. They was starvin’.” “But the constable states that you keep three dogs !” “ Oh, well, guv’nor,” said the prisoner, suddenly changing his manner, “if you expect as we’re going to heat dogs I’ve got no more to say. Wot’s the sentence ? Cough it up, cocky, and let’s get it over.”

Moleskins and not intelligence is to be the Labour standard of fitness ib the future, according to the representative who peofessed to speak with authority, at the Port Melbourne meeting. Possibly (says “Atticus” in “The Leader”) the Labour candidates, in endeavouring to spread the theory that intelligence is something dangerous to the best interests of the working classes, may be excused on the plea that self-preservation is the first law of nature. The candidate may argue shrewdly enough : “If any constituency acquires too high a respect for intelli-o-ence they may want an intelligent man to represent them, and in that case what is to become of me ?” I have heard an M.L.A. admit cheerfully, “ We’re most of ns awful humbugs in there ” —pointing to Parliament House —“ the electors would never put us in if they found us out.”

Perhaps the oddest reason for stopping a tram was given by a lady in Ponsonby a few days days ago. "When the car came to a standstill, and she did not move, the conductor went up to her. “Do you want to get out here, lady ?” he asked. She took no notice, but pointed • out of the window, saying to her dog “ Look, Fido, look.” The conductor repeated his quesr tion. “ Oh, no,” replied the passenger, “ I only stopped the car to snow Fido where his mother lives.”

A novelty in advertising is not an easy matter to drop on, but Mr James Sutherland, of the Imperial Boot Emporium, Queen-street, seems to have hit on one. Anyone purchasing goods to the value of 10s is handed a key, but only one of the keys will fit the lock of a box which contains forty half-crowns. When the grand opening arrives the one customer with the right key opens the box and scoops the boodle. The others console themselves, I suppose, with another sort of key—whiskv.