UNKNOWN

Ashburton Guardian, Volume V, Issue 1254, 3 June 1886, Page 3

UNKNOWN

Kty We’lingl• May 24 h. 1886. Troth, me haad is achin’ this blepsi mornin’, so it is, wid the mintai stbraio I’ve been nndher for the last week, helpin’ Sir Joolius to pack hia Burtgi; wid the istimatea. At all the Kabinet Sayances they ax me advice, av course an’, though they keep me name In the dark, the whole world knows that ther’s nothin’ av importance done without me couamt. Whin the other boys laiva the Kabinet Sir Jooltuaan’ medlf have a quiet discourse together an’ discuss the change' o’ the politic*! klaidyoscope, so we do. Our position just now is a very pecooliar one, an' it tnk all my tack to mowld the istimates in sich a manner as to j shuit all parties, but I think I’ve succeeded very well. Next the fine anshil Statsmint, the great question o’ the day up here Is Misther Bryce’s return. Although John an’ mesilf are at variance on several prominint topics, I’ve grate faith in his honesty, so I have, an’ I was glad to see him get such a warin reception. But, avick roacree, it cut me to the qnick to see the amount o’toadyin’ which has tnk place over John’s return, bo people an’ newspapers that would have hounded him down to the gutter av’ he’d lost the case Thrnth it’s just the way o’the world, so ills; whin yer going up the hill everyone will give ye a helping han’.butif yer goin’ down be me aowl everyone will kick yein ordhor to axaillirate yer discint , bad luck to the word o’ lie in It, so there’s not. Betchune you an’ me there’s been a good dail o’ sham (I don’t mean fizz) talked at (he Bryce banVlt, an’ sorra one o’ me would place any weight on half the fine senti ments that wor vinted on that occasion. Ther’s more ginub.o sympathy in tho i followin' thrifto sthruck off be mesilf thin in all the grand speeches made at the bankit, so there is : Och John, my boy, bedad I’m proud To see you back oncet more ; Ye crost the say an’ sail’d away To dear ould Ingland’s shore ; Ye sail’d the brine an’ crosst the line, Mavourneen, for redhress, Ye’ve found, me man, there’s nothin’ can Succeed just like success Och John, my boy, 1 wish ye joy, Ye’ve cleared away the shame That Rusden thried (be-gog he lied) To place upon yer name ; The viothor’s crown, an’ high rinown Ye’ve won, faix nothin’ less, Applause ye get—there s nothin’ yet Succeeds just like success. Och John, yer sowl, we’ll fill aith bowl An’ dhrink your health, asthore. We wish ye luck, me dacint buck, An’ happiness galore; Ould Rusden’s bait, faix he’s a chait, But av he’d won, I guess, He would have found, faix I’ll be bound,

There’s nothin’ like success. I’m mighty glad—l am be dad— To shake yer fist agin, For its correct to pay respect, An’ honor those that win ; But av ye’d failed we would have railed.

The public an’ the press Would let ye know thcr’s nothin’ so

Succeeds as does success. Throth John, avick, it makes me sick

To witness all this sham— The bankits rare wid sumtchus fare — Blue mongeys, jelly, jam— Had Rusden won he'd have the fun,

An’ you’d be in a mess ; Faix thin ye’d see, avick machree, There’s nothin’ like success. PADDY MURPHY,

“Evening Herald.”