WAYSIDE MUSINGS.

Dunstan Times, Issue 750, 1 September 1876, Page 3

WAYSIDE MUSINGS.

Rarely have I .experienced a better exemplification of the poetio sentiment “ Far from the madding crowd,” in Grey’s beautiful elegiac poem, than the other day when traversing a somewhat remote locality, in one of my periodic rambles, I came upon a couple of road men, working away with all that rookless vigor and heedlessness of labor that has over distinguished this class of individuals. It being Sunday I marvelled at this, and expressed myself so, when the men, after their incredulity was satisfied, dropped the implements of their office with the celerity of a conjuror’s trick while their faces denoted a disgust most amusing to behold. Returning that way the following day I again met with my friends who, instead of, however, being at work, were sitting in easy abandonment, smoking the pipe of happy contentment by their tent doors, with all the air of holiday making about them. In answer to my questioning they were good enough to inform mo that, loathing their mistake of yesterday they sought to soothe their lacerated consciences and outraged bodies by jointly proclaiming Monday Sunday, and thus restore that beautiful balance so lately jeop dized, without which all nature, animate or inanimate, would be destroyed and annihilated. I agreed with these philosophers, and left them impressed with their wisdom and sense of justice, musing, that instead of working in their present lowly capacity they ought to be seated on the woolsack at least.

Fire ! fire !! fire !!! mused I—on looking at the buckets ranged by the side of the Town Hall—what would be the result if such a dread cry washurled forth in reality, startling us out of our midnight sleep, or falling on our nars at noonday with a terror almost equally appalling ? To “lock the door after the steed is stolen ” is, we all know, a motto old and worn ; but, alas ! it but too frequently serves in our day as the most fitting illustration that can be employed. Out of the dozen buckets so ranged they were all impostors but two, and only one in the lot bore the public brand. Conceive for one moment the sudden rush for these buckets in case of such a dire emergency, only to find, when too late, their utter uselessness, in such a moment—all but two. Seconds to be counted as days, as the importance of promptitude is incalculable ; one fatal hitch and the mischief is irreparable—beyond control—and question and argument then or subsequently is merely child’s play. It is to be hoped that no time will be lost in replacing the proper buckets belonging to the Corporation, and that the ones now so ostentatiously displayed may be consigned to their fitting destination, the Clyde Ash Pit. The political apostasy of the member for the district, Mr Vincent Pyke, appears to have inflamed the minds of some of his constituents;' and meetings are announced for an early date at Alexandra and Bald Hill Flat, to consider his conduct. Ah !my dear sirs, you ought to know him by this time; the suavest of the suave ! the blandest of the bland ! Has he not already explained, with that lucidity and adroitness that has ever marked his public career, the reason why, you know, that induced this change in the current of his opinions. Has not Parliament heard his personal explanation, by which he has relieved himself and satisfied his conscience—that conscience dearer to him than life—as to any imputation of such an odious thing as inconsistency. He inconsistent ! there is something ludicrously preposterous in the supposition! The sun and moon may vary ; these mountains by which we are surrounded, seemingly so fixed and solemnly immovable, may suddenly break oat and dance to the lively measure of a hornpipe ; but, V. P. is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever—his course is unaltered, and he changes not. It would he well, my friends, to study his explanation : it is as clear as the moon at noonday, and may satisfy you without further questioning. It has quite settled me, as I am crushed and subdued by the weight of its argument ever since. Seriously, while I believe in the policy he now anno- ices of cherishing unity, and with, some d-j, the hope of a federation of all the Australian Colonies, it is to be regretted that these professions were not made at an earlier date when he sought the suffrages of the people of this district, recording his pledge, as he did, to support views of an entirely opposite nature. The worst feature in apostasy is the fact, as it appears to me, that no matter how sincere the convictions, while one forfeits the friendships of those of his old faith he gains not the esteem of those of the new.

A married woman’s “ Come Homo ’* club is, I am credibly informed, about being established in this city, and in consequence, broom handles and flat irons have “ riz ” to famine prices. The club, as the name may possibly suggest, is to bo formed with the view of reminding husbands possessed of treacherous memories of the flight of time. At certain hours of night there is a remarkable forgetfulness on this point; and those who do remember discover the also remarkable fact that there is something wrong with their timepieces—a universally contagious disease seems to spread amongst these useful articles of man's attiro ; one is too fast, another is too slow, and another has stopped altogether. Under these distressing circumstances what are poor fellows to do ; overwhelmed in a sea of doubt and perplexity, they remain a little longer unable to determine the proper time to Lave. Now, to remedy this evil the “ club ” is formed, for matrons anxiously waiting at home have instinctive perceptions as regards correct time, in fact, their watches are infallible chronometers; and woe-betido the daring bondsman who has tho hardihood to disbelieve thorn. The motto for the club is to be “I’ll watch for theo at tho moonlight hour,” and I have no doubt of its success. Most clubs have been found to work well, but a, club wielded by a woman “ Instrument by n o mean* to be despised,

and has generally proved effeotivo even to the most refractory of husbands. Speaking of the universal dullness of the times on the box seat of the coach, as we approached a neighboring town, on drawing up my vivacious driver remarked to a Bank Agent who stood by—Bank Agents are “ allers ” knocking around in the hope of a promiscuous beer-indolently with his hands thrust in his pockets, admiring the manner of our approach : “ Well, I suppose you find things pretty dull up here ?” “Oh I not at all,” the man of musty bank notes replied ; "We had a customer this morning. A Chinaman came in and purchased a twopenny postage stamp With a five pound note, and it gave my accountant and myself some sharp work to return his change, I can tell you ; in fact we regard it as a good transaction.” Momus. — 1