Goldfields Members of Assembly.

Cromwell Argus, Volume V, Issue 260, 22 September 1874, Page 3

Goldfields Members of Assembly.

(Mount Ida Chronicle), I, We are tired, and bo will be those of our readers who have followed us so far, of following Hansard from beginning to end. There is no single intelligent utterance on any goldfields question by any one member except, curiously enough, Mr Vogel himself, who, by that intuition which seems so remarkably conspicuous in him, wfiiile freely confessing he knows nothing himself of the questions on ’which legislation is asked for, yet perceives “that the dissatisfaction in ' the Provinces with Provincial Goldfields administration shows an utterly erroneous form of administration, ’ which no single Government is answerable for but that all have drifted into.” Mr Shepherd, as wo have pointed out already, did his best service in the matter of river pollution—that best being honestly done and being fatal to the cause Mr Shepherd has struggled to comprehend and to be anxious to serve, if for no other reason than that of gratitude to a constituency that, remarkably, has believed in him as a fitting representative, although not identified in any way, so far as we know, except politically with the Dunstan district. Mr Bradshaw and Mr Pyke we confess not to understand. They probably thought that the position the Government took up was impregnable and the time inopportune for decided action. Wo cannot tell. Perhaps they were deterred by the disrepute all Goldfields matters were and naturally must have been in owing to Mr Shepherd’s zealous want of tact. The fact remains that on Goldfields matters they were mute, although Mr Bradshaw was far too good a representative to remain idle, and busied himself in questions of social statistics that future years will thank him for. Mr J. C. Brown, of Tuapeka, gave what was expected from him—very little. Owing to his restless activity, always for the good of his district,, he has without much ability and certainly no powers of persuasive oratory, trenched himself in at Tuapeka in a position where he could defy all comers, and has worked well for his district for many years, contributing in a great measure to the success of that district. Of Mr Mervyn we shall say little or nothing. He has done what his constituents asked him—put his little question about the Sludge Channel and about the Clyde railway. Perhaps if we had asked more we might have got more. Certainly he has not burned with ardour as Mr Murray, and suffered in pocket to telegraph for the opinion of his constituents on important questions. We have freely reported all he has done publicly, even to his little enquiries about natives and suggestions about land returns. On any matter of the least importance his policy has been a masterly inactivity—a discreet silence. We cannot judge him, nor do we wish to. It appears that the district has been, to all practical purposes, unrepresented, while with regard to the origination of any measure for the relaxing oi: special Goldfield burdens—disputed questions, where the Goldfields as a whole have to fight, the weak against the strong—the member for Mount Ida’s sudden penchant for masterly inaction has preserved his feathers unruffled from the ardour of his impetuosity in attack or in support. In our opinion the Goldfields members—without hardly an exception—in perhaps the most important session ever concluded in New Zealand, have played a part, in nearly every case, subservient to an ulterior purpose, shameful to themselves and disgraceful to the constituencies they represent.

The following touching lament for a deceased wife, from a disconsolate editor of a Missouri paper, appears in the columns of that journal:—Thus my wife died. No more will those loving hands pull off my boots and part my back hair as only a wife can. Nor will those willing feet replenish the coal hod or water pail. No more will she arise amid the tempestuous storms of winter and hie away to the fire without disturbing the slumbers of the man who doted on her so artlessly. Her memory is embalmed upon my heart of hearts. I wanted to embalm her body, but I found 1 could embalm her memory cheaper. I procured of Eli Mudgett, a neighbour of mine, a very pretty gravestone. His wife was consumptive, and he kept it on hand for several years in anticipation of her death. But she rallied last spring, and his hopes were blasted. Never shall I forget the poor man’s grief, when I asked him to part with it. “ Take it, Skinner,” he hoarsely whispered, “and may you never know what it is to have your soul disappointed as mine has been and he burst into a flood of tears. His spirit was, indeed, utterly broken. I had the following epitaph engraved on the tombstone;—“To the memory of Tabitha, wife of Moses Skinner, Esq., gentlemanly editor of the Trombone. Terms, three dollars a year, invariably in advance. A kind mother and an exemplary wife. Office over Coleman’s grocery, up two flights of stairs. Knock hard. Wo shall miss thee, mother ; we shall miss thee. Job printing solicited.” Thus, like Rachel weeping for her children, did my lacerated spirit cry out in agony. But one ray of light penetrated the despair of my soul. The undertaker took his pay in job printing, and the sexton owed me a little account I-should not have gotten any other wav.