THE SUNDOWNER'S SWAG.

Akaroa Mail and Banks Peninsula Advertiser, Volume I, Issue 58, 6 February 1877, Page 2

THE SUNDOWNER'S SWAG.

" If iver. ye go to ■ Donnybrook." . Ancient Document "The Riot Act." "Tare an ouns," as we used to say in sweet Milesia, the Borough Council is developing its rhetorical powers in crying clown autocracy, and defying democracy. Would it not be as well for the Mail to let the outside world, and persons about visiting Akaroa, know that there is a place of amusement open once a week here, where/unrehearsed "teapot rows" are to be seen and heard, gratuitously, the actors in shell farces being not " knights of the sock, and buskin," but lively dignified Borough Councillors. Splendid idea, Sir, which I make a present of to the Council —Arm the Town Clerk with a long pole, when the fun and growls get weak let the T.C. stir upj showman-like, the sluggards. "Bottom, the weaver," with all his fancied power of roaring, could not beat this show, if the T.C. judiciously discharges his onerous duties. The only thing I am afraid of is, that the councillors will get jealous of each other's roaring powers, and there will be a squabble for precedence, each will be saying as " Bottom " did " Let me play the lion, too; I will roar, that it will do any man's heart good to hear me ; I will roar, that I will make the public say, " Let him roar again, let him roar again." ' Quantum sufficit of the councillors. I am delighted to find that a powerful magnate agrees with this sundowner. Pariah as 1 am, still I have great faith in myself, and an unlimited belief in looking after number one. So much so, that I have altered an old quotation, and made it read thus, " Immortal gods, I crave for pelf, I care for no one but myself." I have been told that I am wrong, that my looking after the first numeral was not only degrading to my manhood, but was also a sign of a narrow illiberal mind; what care I for the remarks, sneers, or jeers, of anyone, I am right, and am

backed up by the Mayor of Akaroa, who is reported to have officially said, " he would vote for himself like a man." Old sayings are not always true ones, the following being a case in point. "Listeners hear no good of' themselves," is the old saying. Now, Sir, I was not listening, but, ahem, I must truthfully relate—drinking in an hotel, when I overheard the following dialogue between two persons— "Jack, what is a life-boat for?" "What for," said Jack, " does not its name imply what its for ?" "You scarcely understand me," said the first questioner, or else I am not explicit enough. What I mean is, for what purpose does the Government send a boat, or rather a life-boat to a port ? Well, said Jack, I should,, suppose such a boat would be sent for the purpose of being used as its name purports, and otherwise, for anynecessary Government work. "Well I thought that once was the response," but from what I see, and have seen, I have changed my opinion ; such a boat is sent by a beneficent Government for the use of pleasure and picnic parties. I do not vouch for the authenticity of the following, but relate it as I received it. A party of Scandinavians lately visited an hotel, and after indulging in talk for some time, one of the party left the others. Approaching the bar, he pointed to a beer hogshead, saying to the landlord, what sounded like "corpse." "Corpse," said Boniface, " don't keep them, go to the Council, it may find you a knock-em-down-stinker," if that is your form. The Scandinavian kept gesticulating at the hogshead, again ejaculating " corpse." " Are you ?" said the landlord, " of course I will not contradict as you say so, but, really I never saw one like you." The Scandinavian got bewildered, called his friends, and with their united aid the landlord was made to understand that the "corpse" was a quart of ale, and not a knock-me-down-stinker." For some time this sundowner has been looking for some account of the doings and playings, of the " Peninsula Cricket Club," yet " narry a sign," "during the present season has it given of vitality. The club was re-constructed at a well attended meeting—so I am told—but from the date of that meeting to the present, nothing more has been seen or heard of the " athletes of the willow." " Shake oft dull sloth," Messieurs, " come out on the lovely sod bedad," and either give or take " a bating." "Them's my principles," make them yours. I have almost forgotten the old song, but I think the refrain was something like this " With ball and bat, Upon the flat, I'd stop and play, The live long day." Adieu.