The Ashburton Guardian. Magna est Veritas et Prævalebit. TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 1886. NOTES.
. “Bravo New South Wales, and three cheers for Beach!” will be the spoken or mental ejaculation ot every Australasian colonist who reads of the Sydney oarsman’s victories. Having disposed of Hanlan long ago, next of Teenier, and now of Gaudaur, the American champion, he holds the proud distinction of being the premier oarsman of the wot Id. The event, pleasing as it is, has, however, scarcely surprised us, for we had the pleasure of witnessing the champion’s match with Matterson (no mean antagonist) on the Paramatta in December last, and it was easy for those who saw how easily he rowed away from his opponent on that occasion to believe that it would be exceedingly hard, if not impossible, to find a man who could beat him in any part of the world. But though the triumphs he has scored on the Thames were not by any means unexpected they are none the less satisfactory, not merely because they are triumphs, or because we all as colonists feel that we have a sort of share in them, but because such victories as those of Beach, together with the past successes of our cricketers, and more recently the creditable position taken by our riflemen, when pitted against the best bats, the best bowlers and the best shots of the Mother Country, conclusively prove not only that her descendants are not physically deteriorating under the Southern Cross, but rather that the Britons of the South promise to excel in all manly characteristics the sires from whom they sprang. These things are indeed a complete answer to the theories of those speculative ethnologists who, drawing fancy portraits of the future Australian, have painted him as a weedy, lank, excitable being, full of “ go,” but deficient in stamina and muscularity, and go to show that the “ cornstalks,” as they are termed, are possessed of a fibre as tough as is to be found even among the hardy Norsemen. No, the Australian of the future is going to be a pretty tough customer that’s certain.
Telegraphists and printers are responsible for the invention of so many queer things that it would be an easy task to fill a big folio volume with literary curiosities. Take up any newspaper, and read the telegrams of the day, and prooi enough will be found of this assertion to satisfy anyone of its truth. The intelligent comp, usually gets all the credit at the hands of the intelligent reader, but we are persuaded that the telegraphist is also entitled to a full share of it—in fact, that it is properly a case of honors divided. Not that either the knight of the electric key, or he of the composing stick, is to be set down as a nincompoop or a dunderhead. Not by any means, for when the pace at which they have had to work is remembered the general intelligence and accuracy of both is rather something to be wondered at, while, if the average reader were only aware of the difficulty of “ copy ” he would cease to think it all remarkable that he should now and than stumble upon an unintelligible word or sentence. As for the editors and sub-editors ! well, nobody who has’nt been one has the smallest idea of the Sphinxian riddles which they have daily to solve, or when they can’t solve them to “make a shot at.” And if the shot be occasionally
wide of the mark what wonder, in view of the cabalistic caligraphy and the tangled sentences which often present themselves for unravelment. But practice makes perfect, and in ninetynine cases out of a hundred, the mystery is solved with a readiness and skill which to the uninitiated would seem simply marvelous. But every now and then there are puzzles to which there is no possible clue and which have to be given up in despair, and then there is nothing for it but either to delete the untranslatable word or passage or to print it as received witli a little word in parenthesis following which indicates in sound and very nearly in sense also that the editor is 5/c(k) ot the whole business. And some of these uncrackable nuts are such remarkably tough morsels that it is long odds they will prove too much for the jaws of the entire reading public, as, for example, one which appeared in the first batch of ’Frisco mail news, published in our issue of Saturday. There the telegraphist told the editor, and the editor told the printer, and the printer told the public, that the Emir of Bokhara had sent to the Ameer of Afghanistan a demand for “ Odsis jßhoysalis," and that this was regarded as the prelude to another campaign. Nowwhat onearth is “ Odsis Rhoysalis?” ' We don’t profess to have the remotest idea, and we doubt whether anybody else has. It has a fine ringing sound, though, and deserves almost to take its place beside “ that blessed word Mesopotamia” from which certain pious old ladies are supposed to derive so much comfort.
Talking of piety, what a sad travesty it is that away over in the beautiful island which l orn Moore claims as the first gem o( the sea, riot and bloodshed should be going on among kith and kin, and men of the same blood shooting one another down under the mistaken idea that they are doing God service. Strange that it does not strike the most ignorant who profess the religion of Christianity, whether in Catholic or Protestant form it matters not, that its cardinal principle is love, and its first fruits peace and goodwill to all men. Strange that the mind should be so darkened by the evil passions of creedal animosity as not to perceive the utter incongruity of prayer and petroleum of gospel and grapeshot. Verily the spectacle ot so-called Christians murdering one another for the glory of God is a sight that may well bring the blush of shame to the brow and fill the heart of all right thinking men with sorrow, and it says little indeed for our boasted civilisation that such things should be possible among those who have lived for centuries in the light of the truth. What wonder that in face of the iniquities of Christian countries enlightened followers of Brahma should have sent missionaries to the Western World in the hope of converting Christians to their own faith. Sad indeed it is to write it, but sadder still is the fact that there is heathenism even yet existent within the very shadow of the steeples of Christendom as deep and as dark as is to be found in the darkest places of the earth.
Carlyle’s cynicism that the population of the earth consists mostly of fools receives its justification from time to time in the astounding follies which are perpetrated on every hand. To-day the chronicle of the day’s doings tells of the silly speculator who risks liis earnings on the chances of a horse-race and losing, or fearing the loss of his money, writes his last will and testament on the hack of a play bill and blows out his brains. To-morrow comes news of the tragedies of Monte Carlo where already, in a single season, no less than sixty-seven ruined gamesters have died by their own hands, all victims to the folly of speculating on the hazard of the die, of following the ignis fatuus ot “ Luck ” which they had fondly trusted would lead them on to speedy wealth. Fools all ! but fools of a type that will always be found in all ages of the world till the Golden Age of the poets, if that golden age ever comes, just as they always have been found in all ages of the past. But every age, beside perpetuating the folliei of its predecessors, also produces follies peculiarly its own, geographical position, apparently also playing a part in this differentiation of idiocy. For example, the mania which has broken out among Americans for risking their lives in such silly enterprises as shooting Niagara in casks, or cork jackets, jumping from Brooklyn bridge, or precipitating themselves into the river from a balloon suspended in air 1500 feet above the water. And all for what ? Far the paltry stakes of a thousand dollars or so? Not st ail, or rather not solely for such a consideration, hut for the notoriety which will follow success in the perilous attempt. The sooner such idiots are regarded as idiots the belter, for when it becomes patent that the only notoriety to be attained by the perpetrators of such follies is that of being generally looked upon as silly fools, then and then only, such senseless performances will cease to be attempted.
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Ashburton Guardian, Volume V, Issue 1347, 21 September 1886, Page 2
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1,471The Ashburton Guardian. Magna est Veritas et Prævalebit. TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 1886. NOTES. Ashburton Guardian, Volume V, Issue 1347, 21 September 1886, Page 2
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