HAPPENINGS IN THE CAPITAL.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXIV, Issue 1940, 23 November 1906, Page 3

HAPPENINGS IN THE CAPITAL.

UNDESIRABLE IMMIGRANTS. (By Penelope.) Wellington, Nov. 22. By the Waikare, from Melbornc, arrived a band of Gipsies. This sounds picturesque and romantic, but there is nothing at all artistic about tho group. Before they joined the steamer they began to beg, they bogged on tho trip across, and are continuing the operation here, with varying success. They slept on the hatchways, they ate and drank all from the same vessels, an old brass kettle being the most important of thoir peripatetic ‘Jsitshen utensils, and of cleanliness they

bad not loiu'iit ovon tlio rudiments. Tho older woman told fovtunoa—tlio aiuuo to ovoryouo. It in not easy to understand how this thriftless band satisfied our stringont emigration laws, but they aro boro, and tlio older woman has boon romnrkably prominent already. Sho is a broil/,od, straight-featured damo, drossod in tags and rags of brilliant colours, a vivid liandkorehiof ovor hor dark hair, and a voal-oyod baby in a shawl on hor back. This morning sbo mado a pilgrimago along Lambtou Quay, visiting most of the shops, offering to toll fortunes, and bogging for money for “ tho kiddie.” Sho does not stand on coremony, but shakos hands cordially with customers as woll as shopkoopor, and is not at all put out at tho numorous rebuffs sho rccoivos, Tho silvor with which tho would-be pooress into futurity crossos thoir palms with sho will absent mindcdly poekot, if not checked, and hor importunity often gains moro for hor than sho deserves. Probably, when sho gnthors together enough, sho will bo off to tho Exhibition and fresh holds. Cripsios, in an opora, sitting in a charming landscape round a rustic hro and singing about tlio faithless Georgio and tho gay Zuigari, aro quito delightful, and even in the classic groves of Grceco, where they aro supposed to come from, might bo attractive at somo distance —but at eloso quarters in tlio heart of a city tkoy aro disillusioniring and insanitary. FIJIANS IN NEW ZEALAND

A number of natives of Fiji arrived the sumo day as iho gipsios, but tboy wore ■ much admired, and oortainly desorved ell tbo flattering attention tboy received. Magnificently mndo and of splendid oarriogo, tall aad with huge coiffures of fluffy outls tboy looked most imposing in tbo r neat blue droasos, jumpors and lava-lavas or kilts, grit with a red sash. They wont a driving through tbo sunshine, and eaog S 3 they went so melodiously that hard headed businessmen threw open their windows to listen to tho wonderfully harmonious voices. Bomo Wellington residents wero doubtful ns to tho wisdom of letting loose a band of shock-headed sturdy savages in a crowded oily. “ Are they cannibals ?” one man asked, and, on being told gravely they wore, pondered ns to the menu the Union Company would prepare for its unusal pissongers. Another on-looker, with somewhat m'x-'d ideas, feared they might run 11 amok ” and drat around wholesale dostrnation. The Fijian is the most dignifled and courtoons of nature’s gentlemen as a rule, and would show to great advantage beside the oolonial larrikin. These men have gone on to the Ohristohuroh Exhibition, of wbioh they, with their songs and dnncoa, will form an interesting part. Tbo Fijian fire-wa'kers arrive at the beginning of December. BEHIND THE SCENES. Through the kindness of Miss Palotta, I spent tho hours of tho last performance of the “ Talk of tho Town ” in tho wings of tho Opera House and in Miss I’alotta’s

dressing-room—if ono may dignify the dingy cupboard she used by such a title. It must bo a great change for tho famous actress to come from her beautiful room in the Sydney Theatre to this shabby, uncarpctod little room, whore there is barely room for her maid, herself, and her big trunk that holds her pretty frocks, and a visitor must tuck herself away in small compass. But Miss Palotta takes all discomforts with a smile, and really, when ono secs tho brilliant figure in turquoise chiffon, white laces, and silver tissue, ono forgets the sotting of the picture. Distance does not lend enchantment to the view, for Miss Palotta needs but little touching up—thanks to tho kindness of nature and her own love for exercise and fresh air. Her pretty waves of golden-brown hair she tosses up in a few minutes. She has worn it in tho same simple stylo for years —and her blue eyes and brilliant smile are her own property. I sit at tho corner of tho stage, just out of sight of tho packed house, and watch tho troop of busy scenes shifters hurry out of sight as the curtain goes up and piquant little Miss Seaife is found busy with her dusting brush and her postman. All is absorbed attention behind as well as before the footlights, players waiting their cue; and every supernumerary in his place. Only Miss Palotta, holding up her dainty blue skirts from the dusty floor, runs round to toll me joyfully the house is packed, and Mr Ward, in his wonderful vagabond dress in which closer scrutiny shows the patches sewn on with white thread—snatches a few minutes to talk of new plays. He puts tremendous force into his acting, for when he comes off, the beads of perspiration are standing on his forehead. This is the farewell performance, and a bumper house. Consequently the actors can do—as our old French dancing-master told us we could do when wc knew tho waltz perfectly—play with their logs—metaphorically. They can talk liberties with tho text and the action, and generally lot themselves go. Mr Ward is so amusing that even his companions on the stage are moved to real mirth and the stage hands shriek at the wings. Bator on, I had a

little chat with Miss Palotta about the frocks we shall see next season, when tho Company returns with 11 The Now Clown ” and “ Mr Hopkins,” both of which are sa d to be excellent. She assimilates ideas fo her stage frocks from all sources, One of her very prettiest new oostames—-early Victorian white satin gown and poke bonnet with drooping blue plumes—is from a chocolate box, Another lovely frock she brings with her next year is of laoe— Brussels—made and designed for the Coronation in a pattern of roses, thistles, shamrocks, and orowns,