ONE THING AND ANOTHER.

Akaroa Mail and Banks Peninsula Advertiser, Volume 3, Issue 276, 11 March 1879, Page 2

ONE THING AND ANOTHER.

(Collated from our Exchanges.)

A Journalist.—Picture yourselves (says the Referee) seated at your desk from seven till long after midnight,every evening, lamps of ice and wet towls on. your head. On your right hand a large backet of ink, on your left huge dictionaries of all the living and dead languages, in front of you maps of all',the countries of the world, and reams and reams of-paper under your nose waiting to to be filled. On yotVgo, scribble, scribble, leaders, essays, poems, sermons, plays, paragraphs, jokes, puns, moral lessons, and contributions to the history of your era. There is? no" rest for the journalist. Events march,- and he must march with them. No matter what may happen to him, lie must be light and amusing, and readable. No matter if half his relations are dying' up stairs, he must finish his copy. Why, the day Iwas married I scribbled a leader inside my hat on a collision arid fifty deaths, and I have no doubt the day I lie dying and am trying to recollect if there's anything among , liiy papers I shouldn't like Mrs Uagonet to see, some one will knock at my door for -, a comic story. The worst of it is everybody thinks you've nothing to do. Jones asks you to go to Norway for a month with him; Eobinson comes in to spend the evening, and tells you cool J y to "chuck the writing up and talk." Tfcmr old friend Cottrell invites you on Saturday evening to dine, with *him at the new! Surrey Glub, and oan't underetand that the evening is not your own if you want it. Old aunts with long stories from the country follow you to the office, and seize .you, and won't let you go till your editor says he smells fire, and pretends to jump out of the window. Then they fly down the stairs. Two gentlemen were lately examining the breast qf a plough on a stall in a market-place. "I'll bet you a guinea," said one, ," you don't know what this is for."—" Done," said the other ; ♦' it's for sale." The bet was won, and the guineapaid.

"In Cork," says O'Connel, " I remember the crier trying to disperse the crowd by exclaiming, ' All ye blackguards that isn't lawyers, quit the Coort, , " "Paddy Murphj," of the Saturday Advertiser, tells us that the following letter of introduction, which he popped iaco the hands of His Excellency as he was leaving Wellington, will '' do him more good in Victoria thin her Majesty's Commission, so it will " :—"To Sir Brien O'Loghlen. Actin' Prime ear, &c.— Lanibton Kay, February 20th, 187.9.—Me

Bear Brieny, I'vegreat pleasure in inthroduein' to yer notice His Ixcillincee the Markiss of Normanbee, as dacint a boy as iver broke bread. Ton me conshinse, yell obleedge me very much be puttin , him up to a wrinkle or two in connection wid bis ]OTvties. But, Brieny, allanah, the mane thing I want to bring undher yer notis is the fact that the Markiss has a waikness for throwin , about an , squandherinV his money foolishly. Now, Brieny, ma bouchil, I want ye to keep yer eye upon him, and try to resthrain his ixtravagint p.ropinsities. I confide him to yer care, an 1 1 know yell take care ay him. Pat O'Bell brings ye another few lines from vie. Be kind to Pat, an , inthroduce him into dacint society. Yβ needn't be afraid ay him, as he's as mild as a lamb among the ladies.—Yer affectionate Cousin, Paddy Mubphy."

Anything about the Kellys is interesting reading just now, so we reprint the following undated special telegrams from the Wellington Chronicle :— " Further traces of the Kellys have been discovered. After leaving Urana, which they did on fresh horses, the property of Mr Bonna and Mr Fishwood, settlers, they went in the direction of Wagga Wagga. When about 30 miles on the road, and opposite Bird's accommodation house, the bushrangers and the police despatched from Wagga Wagga to Drana, met. The police pulled up, and hot recognising either of the gang, had a chat. They asked Dan Kelly if he had heard anything of the bushrangers, to which Dan replied ' that they had met a party of four suspicious-looking individuals ten miles further down.' After having a drink together, Dan offered that he and his inatep should go with the constables in search of the gang, hut the constables declined. After the police left, the gang struck south, Goulburn way, and reached the small town of Morven, 60 miles south-east of Urana. They entered the police camp, which was in ch.irge of a solitary constable, and alter making him cook dinner for them, Hart ,was despatched with the constable for Mr Boustray, the local J. P. Boustray was brought to the camp, and'made'.to take evidence against the constable on a charge of in competency, cowardice, and neglect of duty. Ned Kelly acted as prosecutor and Dan Kelly as Clerk of the Court, while Steve Hart officiated as orderly. The prisoner was found guilty, and Boustray was ordered by Ned Kelly to sentence him to six months' imprisonment, which he did. Boustray was then tied down to hia chair and the Court-house was fastened up, the constable being handcuffed and left in the lock-up. Mr Dresden, of Wagga, who was taking photographic views of the town of Morven, was made to take the portraits of the gang and their horses at the rear of the lock-up, Dan making him promise to post the photos to friends, of whom he gave him a list, including the Superintendents of Police of Victoria and 'New South Wales. In the evening the gang left for Goulburn. At GouJlmrn there is great e2citement, and the local "banks have been fortified against attack. An extra policeman has been requisitioned for, but the Commissioner has refused on the ground that the force is becoming demoralised by the action of the Kellys in locking them up with the bank managers and others." The skit is really admirably kept up throughout, and the intelligence might easily pass for genome, J? u tfor the too rich bit of satire contained in the con- < eluding paragraph. Wβ do not approve of newspaper "sells," as a rule, because they are* dangerous things, but we must say we read this one with a good deal of amusement.

The London correspondent of the Argus gays :—lt is curious that the first realization of a Utopia should have been embodied in an Admiralty report, and yet if Admiral de Horsey's account of the Pitcairn Islanders is true (which there is no reason to doubt), it seems there is a community on this planet which has almost attained a social and moral perfection. It is of course in " the Pacific ;" but there are not only no wars—but no crimes there. " The almost puerile simplicity of the law is the best evidence of the good conduct of the people." Theft, illicit love, and the use of profane language, are the only transgressions contemplated by the Pitcairn code, and none of these are ever committed. Their religion is that of the Church of England, but a little different; there is no High Church, Low Church, Slow Church, or No Church, and there is no clergyman. I need not add, since they live in harmony, there is no lawyer. "No alcholic liquors, except for medical purposes, are used, and drunkenness is unknown." There is no money in the island. There is a population of 90—49 males and 41 females | and they speak English only. Fancy a people without a Bradlaugh, a Kenealy. or even a Whistler. My only fear is that the publicity thus given to the existence of such a paradise will cause Mr Cook to "organize" an excursion thither.