Literature.

Dunstan Times, Issue 995, 13 May 1881, Page 3

Literature.

ONE THING AND ANOTHER.

lack sly Sangrado with his poisonous pill Flies to the printer’s devil.—Homes Smith.

An interesting application for letters patent was lately heard and granted by the Victorian Attorney General to Mr W. H. Sharp, of Darlington, Victoria, for an improved machine for deshoying rabbits. The improvement consisted in the combination of an air-pump, ora double bellows, with a generator of poisonous gases, so as to produce a most effective machine for destroying rabbits. Should the initiatory experiments prove a success, it is more than probable that “bunny” will have a more formidable enemy in the gas machine than in the rabbiter and his dogs.

I should advise Mr Sharp to take up his abode in the healthy, bracing neighborhood of Clyde should there be a scarcity of gas in and around Darlington. I calculate that there is more venomous, deleterious gaseous matter in the air inhaled than is actually pood for the health of the inhabitants _of Vincent County. The aeriform elastic fluid is chiefly extant in the town of Cromwell. ( Of course, a certain quantity of oxygen is necessary to keep our respiratory organs in faultless regularity, but, then, one can have too much of a good thing: Clyde, lam sorry to say, is.subject togas. A large quantity of the article in question is customarily evaporated at the general meetings of the County Council by twoorthreeof the "penny-wise and pounafoolish ” gentry, but as it is of an infamous, infecund character, I am inclined to the sentiment that it would not do for rabbitpoisoning. I trust that Mr Sharp, his ■" bunicidial extirpator " and poisonous gas absorber will determine to settle down in this county. Then, and not till then, will Clyde and Cromwell bo periodically emancipated from the gas that is so frequently allowed to escape from the pipes and mains. A word or two more relative to gas ere I ■close, dear friends. I often wonder that some of the Cromwelliana are not polluted or poisoned when perusing the columns of their illustrious organ, the reading matter of ■which usually consists of a farrago of scurrilousness on the one hand, and obsequious, Pharasaieal toadyism and plagiarism on the other. Such a vast amount of obnoxious self-praise, etcetera, permeates every issue of the “ Argus,” that I invariably exclaim after perusing it—“ What, more gas? Why, the ascetic, prattling literati (?) who, by stupendous efforts, manage to edit the ‘ Argus ’ between them, will some day die from the effects of an overdose either of fantasm, ignorance, gall, egotism, or ethnical stultiloquence 1 ” I would recommend the editor of the “Argua” to first learn the meaning of the following proverb, and afterwards to act up to it" Vivere si nequit recti, deceit peritis."

Some of the gentler sex are not “backward in coming forward ” in matrimonial matters in sunny New South Wales. This unique advertisement is but another glaring instance of what the partners of our “ sorrows and joys ” are capable of doing when they have a *• good thing on ” I. Harriet Wady, of Narbrr, (riTe notice to ray husband, Henry Wady, that if I do not hear from him in three months from this date I intend to got married again. Haikikt Wadt. March 24, 1831.

I wouldn’t mind betting 100 to 1 that Harriet wouldn’t advertise for Harry had he insured his dear life in the “ Mutual ” for LSOO ere he retired from the hospitable embrace of his wife’s arms. Though lost to sigh f , Henry is still to Harriet’s memory dear. But, dear readers (I am speaking to Benedicts), do you think the masculine person advertised for will turn up ? Don’t you think—place yourselves in his place—it is more than likely that he’ll retire from the immediate vicinity of Harriet,and—like the Hibernian—advertise himself as deal? I do ; and 1 know very well that a good many more married men would do the same thing had they a similar opportunity. 1 also know some ladies who would like to marry “some other fellow,” If they could but got rid of

Aii itinerant showman, who hilled his exhibition as the “ American Graphascope,” appeared in the Town Hall, Clyde, last Monday evening. A “ large and appreciative audience,” consisting of ten boys of ages varying from 10 to 18, six dogs of the mongrel species, and the representative of this journal, attended to inspect the “ 100 scenes of wars which occurred during the last century” ; quiz the “ freak of Nature: an earless boar ” ; and stuff into the capacious pockets of overcoats brought for the purpose the magnificent gifts, “valued at from 10s to £seach,” which all expected to receive in return for the humble, solitary shilling each one had paid for admittance. The “company" comprised an individual of the “ Whitechapel Joe ’’ persuasion, and a wizen-faced, under-sized juvenile who, by his strut and nonchalance, the Clyde boys looked upon from afar, and seemed to consider as a visitant from the spirit world. The show opened with an overture on that antique but most delightful of instruments, \ hurdy-gurdy, the air being similar to that on which the old cow died. The scenes were too sweetly delicious for anything! After about 14 miles of views—which had been clipped from the “ Sketcher," and were supposed to represent scenes of the Kelly gang’s doings—had been unfolded and delineated to the enravisbed audience, The Times’ reporter left, and was soon after carried into the mazy intricacies of a hotel, where ho was soon discussing the several merits of a bottle of brandy. I learn that the concluding part of the show was of unprecedented grandeur and magnificence. The boys present at the show, however, had some good sport with the earless boar, which, by-the-way, was a Yorkshire pig with its ears clipped close to its head, and the cavities filled with sealing-wax. The entertainment was prematurely brought to a close by a tune from the hurdy-gurdy, and all dispersed to their respective homes, giftless and comfortless.

“ Sir William Vagg, solo prprietor of the American Graphascope,” will not, [ am very positive, easily obliterate from the tablets of his memory the recollections of his adventures on the occasion of his first visit to Clyde. It appears that he forgot to pay two or three small debts which he contracted during his short stay here. Mr Vagg stayed at Holt’s Hotel, but, like all "great” men, he forgot, in his hurry to leave the town at daybreak by back roads and lanes, that he owed worthy Host Holt a small sum, and left here without paying up his hotel score. Naturally, this riled i determined to follow in the absconding debtor’s wake, overtake him, and make him pay his “little bill.” Mr Holt caught up to Vagg and "C 0.,” and his claims were fully satisfied by the show•nan. Mr Vagg also forgot to pay for the “' ro the ball and his printing account, so Mr Fache, having to go to Speargrass Flat ? n Tuesday, determined to " make tracks ” w the route taken by him. He overtook mm, rated him soundly and then went on his way moneyless, as the absconder was a broker." I advise the inhabitants oi Roxburgh, Lawrence, and other towns between here and Dunedin to look out for Mr v , a BSi and be careful he dosen't do “likewise with them."

Dear Messieurs Editors of the "Cromwell Argus," have 1 your permission to live in Clyde? People du say—like the rest of the world, I listen to “ hearsay evidence ” —that, unless I get your supreme consent to reside in any town other than Cromwell, you’ll visit upon my devoted head, through the instrumentality of your paper, a dire and terrible thrashing, which would be the means of ray shuffling off this mortal coil instanter. Can I live in Clyde, Messieurs Editors? Like your antique relative Uriah Heap “ I am very ’umbfe ” to those who fancy themselves my superiors, so please give your consent to my request. Birds of a feather, you know, flock together. I would gladly reside in Cromwell, were it not for the fact that I should not like to mix with the turkey-buzzards and sparrowhawks that comprise your literary (?) staff. NEMESIS.