A POETIC PUFFER.

Akaroa Mail and Banks Peninsula Advertiser, Volume 4, Issue 350, 25 November 1879, Page 2

A POETIC PUFFER.

; He Wore an alpine hat with a hole in the top ; and the brim was slouched up on one side and down on the other. It suited the fancy of the wearer. He had long hair, a full beard, and a close-but-toned coat which, in 1868, might have passed for a Prince Albert. He swung Ms cane around gracefully as he approached the proprietor of the Seminole House, a country hotel, and ac:costed him : "Good morning, seignor 1" , "Good morning, sir j good morning !" responded tlbe proprietor smiling from ear to ear?as he supposed he had captured a guest'for the Summer. "Idropped around to see how you stand in! regard" to ! boarders—that is, you know, see if you are-full or not." ..;' " Lots of room ; lots of room," screamed* the hotel man in an ecstacy of joy,' "how many of you are there ?" * " Only myself," w»s the response., "I think I hare it in my power to fill yourhbtel for you. Now how would you like to have your house so full that it would be necessary for you-to put props against the > sides, to; keep them from bulging out ?" "First rate —first rate." . • « All right j I'll fill it for you. lam a newspaper man, and have a great deal of influence, and I'll write you up. I'll say your hotel is composed of rainbows and curtains, carpets of pure silk, and that the furniture •is gold studded with sardonyx, ojials 'a. id "other precious stones.,; Of I shan't use these exact wordsi huti j'l| poetize your place so.thqroughly £hat you'll soon be full •at twenty dollars a head-per week '* * " That would be nice,-I'm suife, rt 'teid ihe proprietor, in tones of joy.

" You see that stagnant pond ? Well, r shall say that it is a lake freighted with argosies and lilies, out of which fairies sip the diamonds of' night in the rosy dawn, when the misty garlands of late and hillside melt into nothingness, as sweetly as a lover's kiss."

" You are very kind."

" And then," continued the journalist with v. tragic wave of the hand, " I shall say that you are situated in,!* pleasant valley where the lowing kine linger in babbling brooks, and shepherds under breezy trees make the air rich with * lutes and solt .recorders.'.. I. shall say that your wine is ambrosia, and that, at your table, a man might well imagine himself to be eating off a cloud. Is that a dinner-bell I hear ?" "Nosir." / -.■;;.. - " I'll say that the mosquitos around your place have voices like nightingales and that they.don't bite>- —. I'll say, that they are of a new species imported by you from Naples especially as an attraction for the Seminole House., Is that gong calling to dinner ?" " No, sir, the' colored man is just_ going to polish it up." "I'll also state, and in verse, if you desire it, that before your hotel is a beautiful lawn upon which peacocks disport their, iris-charms in the golden glow of sunset. I'll say that beautiful blackeyed sultana-like daniozels reclined lan T guorously in hammocks and smoke cigarettes and faix themselves in your garden, which shall fill with hyacinths and Is thatja rattle of dishes and knives and forks?" ■" • '< ' " Yes, they are being cleaned." The poet thought it rather strange that he wasn't invited to drink, but he nevertheless continued — . " Now, if you say so, I'll just drop into your office and write my first letter, and say your place is a favourite resort for honeymoons. I have seen sufficient of it to describe it honestly and varnish it afterward ; but your table I can't say much about until after I,have tried it. I guess I had better take dinner with you and write the letter afterward, eh ?" " I think not," responded the hotelkeeper, opening and closing one eye cunningly. " You can't get a meal out ofme." " All right, then; all right," responded the poet, straightening up haughtily and turning abruptly on his heel. "I'll let you go to thunder. The great grandson of Dante looks with scorn upon your hotel arid yourself you are not fit. to brush the dust off my mantle. I'll let some one else hand the name of your miserable, mosquito haunted hotel down to posterity. I go, vile caitiff, and, by my halidome, farewell;"

Then he departed.