THE SUNDOWNER'S SWAG.

Akaroa Mail and Banks Peninsula Advertiser, Volume 2, Issue 188, 7 May 1878, Page 2

THE SUNDOWNER'S SWAG.

" The Grovelling Thoughts of Grovelling

Minds lead to Grovelling Actions."

" Proverbial Philosophy."

One cannot help thinking to what depths of degradation some of our fellow members of the human family descend by giving way to their evil thoughts and worse intents. One abominably debasing crime, which is, I am sorry to know, far too prevalent within the Borough of Akaroa, is that of sending anonymous letters to persons couched in language of the most filthily prurient nature—"the vile vomitings of vile thoughts." I cannot understand the mental status of any person who can thus degrade " the image in which God created man, i.e., himself; but I can understand the receiver of such foul effusions trying his best to discover their author, and, if successful in the quest, " taking the law into his own hands " by administering condign punishment on the culprit. "So mote it be." " 'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished," and I, for my part, hope that the blackguard, or blackguards, so offending against common decency, family privacy, and general morality, through the medium of their beastly inuendo-worded productions, may be unearthed, have his or their skins well supple-jacked, and be permanently ostracized from the society of those they cultivate. ' Nothing is harder to battle against, more difficult to cope with, than the anonymous productions of the class I write of, and in touching upon this subject I do so with the hope that this may meet the eye of an offender, and.show him how despicably low is his conduct even to the mind of a sundowner. Ah me—

" The bravest trophy ever man obtain'd Is that which o'er himself, himself hath gain'd."

Sadly humiliating, but serves me right. I have had the skittles of my vanity floored by a single shot. Everyone knows me, so it seems somewhat superfluous for me to have to partly describe myself, but, for the purposes of this anecdote, it is necessary I should 4.0 so. I must premise, then, that lam "as bald as a bandicoot," the top of my intellectual (?) cranium being as smooth and shining as a billiard ball; but, as a set-off, I have a pair of " chop ornaments," in the shape of whiskers, that no languid swell of the Dundreary type can ditto ; they are, or were, in my estimation, just perfection, and I have found them great havoc-makers among the tenderly susceptible feelings of the gentler sex. Ahem, just so. The other day, when out for the purpose of giving my whiskers a blow aud expanding them to the breeze, I met my old acquaintance Skewer, who, after the usual congratulatory enquiries, said:—" Jack, why don't you trim up those brush fences of yours ? " " Where are you," was my reply, " and what's the wrinkle ? " " Those whiskers," he rejoined," cut them, mow them, gather in the crop." " 0 dear no, not for Joe," was my playful rejoinder, as I lifted my "beaver" to remove the drops of perspiration which his last remark had called forth. "Ah, Jack," he remarked, after looking very intently at my head, " what a pity it is you had that land slide." "Where .are we now," I retorted—"land slide! when, where, how V " Oh, you know," was the cruel rejoinder," when the hair of your head slid down from the crown and formed those whiskers, which you are vain enough to think give you so distingue —he used that word, Councillor M'Purly —an appearance." Tableau— Collapse — Whisky — " Run-'em-in." So much for my—

" Vanity, that mental mole, '' The dense opthalmia of the vacant mind, Which whispers we may stem the .strong

control Of every wave that in our course we find." ' -■

" Where ignorance is bliss 'tis folly to be wise," is all bunkum. I don't go "the whole hog," or yet "plank my dollars" on the trustworthiness of that fusty adage ; in fact, I know it to be a deceiving old piece of proverbial ism. Now, as I am not in the habit of making an assertion without proving its truthfulness, I am going to follow my usual course in this instance. " I got a gal to fancy me "—there's a twist for you, Venus!—and "this gal of mine' assists in the domestic duties of an hotel, in whose banqueting chambers a public dinner was, quite recently, worried through and carted of. By the aid of an assortment of seductive graces and blarney piled at my gal's willing ears and tender heart, my presence behind the door on the festive occasion was winked at by "the Marquis." I saw the table laid out, and I also saw that everything was done as it should be — minus finger glasses — the dinner napkins forming a prominent feature on the board. The hour for revelry arrived, everything went on, and went off, satisfactorily and well; the viands and mixed liquors disappeared " with prompt despatch," and, as I remarked — with a languishing leer and a choked-up mouthful—to my " pootsy wootsy," all seemed " as merry as a marrige bell." " Be aisy, Johnny, ye rogue," says " my gal." Just then, which spoiled my little game, " the people's William " commenced eloquently expatiating, rounding off his periods, aud going through the other oratorical and rhetorical graces of which he is so famous a master —when, suddenly, there was a resonant blast blown from the nose of some skilled performer on the " nosone," which stopped the speaker and startled me. "Jack! Jack!" said my Dulciuea, " l(Jbk at this." I looked, and saw—two borough councillors using their table napkins as pocket-handkerchiefs,

and, while I looked, they sympathetically blew a duo note from their respective instruments, and then calmly smiled at the other guests. Don't tell me "where ignorance, &c." . " Admire, exult—despise—laugh, weep— For here There is much matter for all feeling." "Of the shop, shoppy." Quite true, it is a failing we all have in a major or minor degree. We all carry our business matters with us, and introduce the subject anywhere and everywhere, both'in and out of season. The only subjects which seem to exercise the minds and tongues of the local " cockatoos" are cattle and pasturage, produce and its value. I firmly believe that the advertising quacks, through so often writing up their peculiar nostrums, have, in many instances, succeeded- in making themselves unhesitatingly prepared to swear to the truthfulness of their puffing notifications, and—this brings me to my electric friend, R. Straw, and something that befel his melody-producing self. Straw, in a fit of extravagance, invested in a pair of Canning's—that leathery borough statesman-—" our own make," but C. had managed the "glove fit" so admirably that Straw was delighting the lieges with an exhibition of a new step in the " Alexandra limp," accompanied with a most lachrymose and woe-begone expression of countenance. Don Y'Citrus saw the limp and agonised look, which was quite enough to send his thoughts shopward. Approaching the martyr, he said—"Ah f Mr Straw, you are not well." "Tight boot," muttered Straw, " and if I only had that Canning's head here, I'd give it (whacks) wax and tacks." Y'Citrus could not have heard, or else misunderstood, Straw's speech, for he remarked—"Pray allow me, my dear Mr R. Straw, to recommend you to take one dose of pur aromatique black draught, it will at once cure you of the pain which you seem to feel so acutely." The ludicrousness of a black draught being a cure for a tight boot so affected R. Straw, that he at once forgave Canning for his mis-fit.

" The lucky have whole days, which still they choose ; Th' unlucky have but hours, and those they lose."

So Long.