LOAFER IN THE STREET.

Globe, Volume VI, Issue 615, 8 June 1876, Page 3

LOAFER IN THE STREET.

{From the Press ) The winter readings have commenced once more. Discriminating audiences will be instructed, if not amused. On these occasions it is always best to be critical. There is no occasion now to pine for your enemy to write a book. You have only to persuade him to give a reading, or sing at an entertainment, and jour revenge is complete. The criticisms one bears occasionally from people one would suppose to be well informed, are a little curious, to say the least of it. A gentleman was reading recently at one of our local improvement shows. His selection was from Arthur Sketchley's Mrs Brown. It may be recollected that Mre B. is represented by the author as a lady who haß not an Hin her composition. The reader endeavored to exhibit this peculiarity of Mrsß's and apparently succeeded very fairly, because a critic in the front floats remarked at the close of the reading that " So-and-so read very fairly, but it was a pity he dropped his H's so much." As the critic was a gentleman engaged in tuition the remark was really flattering to the reader.

Apropos of criticism when Mr and Mrs Hoskins were starring up North the other day they put on Galatea. A dear old lady was so horrified at the cjstume of the fair Galatea that she left the show in horror, observing that such a piece was a disgrace to a Chris tian community. Dogs and monkeys and men, who sing "Up in a balloon boys," are about the Canterbury form. We can understand and not be shocked by them. There's a reverend gentleman who recently

left one cure in New Zealand to go to another. He was a really clever man and a most popular preacher. He had, I'm told, a presentation, and his passage paid fur self and family. He brought with him an Abigail, who, I suppose, was a first class servant. On arriving, this young woman was rather staggered to learn that her wages were to be stopped until her passage was paid. It seems rough on the young woman, and certainly gives one the idea that the reverend gentleman will get on in this country. He wont pitch too many wasteful loaves on these waters. Scene—The Courthouse of a country district, in one of the neighbouring provinces. The magisterial Solon on the figurative bench. The case before the Court is one for debt, the defendant being a knight of the thimble, goose, and sleeve-board. The defendant acknowledged the justness of the debt, without any demur, but 'pleaded inability to pay at present. Said his Worship, " What time do you require to pay this debt in?" " Well, your Worship," answered the defendant, " If you will only pay me that little account you owe me, I can settle the cla-'m at once." The scene in Court may perhaps be imagined, but it can't be easily described. A friend of mine was tackled the other day by a collector. The latter represented very quietly that unless the account was paid on the spot his instructions were to take a summons out at once. My friend paid up, got a receipt, and was sadly leaving the sctne, when the collector said, in a confidential way—" I was just going to ask your advice, mister. I'm leaving old Boots this week. My arrangement with him was five per cent on the good debts, and ten per cent on the bad ones. Now considering that my instructions were to summons you, don't you think I'm fairly entitled to charge ten per cent on your account." My friend smiled blandishly, and s<tid he thought he ought. But he tells me it was rather hard to have to pay up and to give an unprejudiced opinion against his own impecuniosity at one time. He says he came very near taking tp drink that day. Been to see Mdlle De Murska ? I have. Not to see and hear her would be of course putting yourself outside the pale of conversation during her stay here. No one talks of anything else at present, ?p far as I can judge. My first visit to the concert w & & a bit trying. Is it necessary to say that there was a young woman there who cracked nuts all the time ? I sat next her. _An old gen. tleman who apparently made his -Jths of an old cotton handkerchief a confirmed onion store, sat in front of me ; but I enjoyed the concert. I've not taken a season ticket, but I've attended regularly every night, Bless you ! expense never stops me when music is concerned. I generally go close up to the stage—on the outside of the Hall, and I meet lots of most respectable people there too. It's the correct thing to appear horribly annoyed at being unable to get in, ana to vow to take tickets in time on the ne*t occasion. As I generally meet the same people outside though, I expect we forget to take them. It's wonderful how fond some folks are of music. It's extraordinary too what a different effect the singing of different people produces on an audience. When Mdlle de Murska is singing the audience can't listen too much. Most of them are wishing tor a few more ears to take in the music. I sang once in public, but this is a subject I will not pursue further. It is a subject which memory, the beadle of the brain, associates with a rotten egg, derision, and a black eye. Do you know anything about cemeteries 1 It's atopic I'm not posted in. I'm afraid I've not paid that attention to Necropolises that the subject destrves, but I want to know why it is that supposing a cemetery to be consecrated by the head of one persuasion, members of other persuasions are not allowed to be buried there. In an upcountry district this is rather hard on people who don't belong to the particular denominathat owns, so to speak, the churchyard. I've always, as Mr Longfellow observes, liked

" That ancient Saxon phrase which calls The burial ground God's acre. It is just; It consecrates each grave within its walls And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust." But it appears there are districts in New Zealand where none but the orthodox can obtain the Bix feet of ground which I've always thought most of us were entitled to, You remember Sydney Smith's story about orthodoxy. Everybody, he said, thinks his own doxy orthodoxy and everybody else's doxy heterodoxy. It's very true, but there is such a thing as carrying the principle too far.

A woman's glory is in her hair, we are told, on very good authority. The '• fair I Beck " evidently give the fullest credence to this statement just now, and they go in for glory to any extent. I think I told you once before of the sad result of the present system of wearing the hair. I allude to poor little Frittlejubbs, who was presented by his adored one with a lock of her hair. He subsequently discovered that it was ODly a cull from a pad, and this led to the breaking up of many illusions and one engagement A still sadder thing happened recently. Two charming yonng ladies had to start by the early train. One was blonde, the other brunette. Both were in the habit of subsidising their hair to a material extent. In the hurry of starting in the morning, the subsidies got mixed somehow, and abouc 10 o'clock a.m. there was one lady with a black foundation on her head and a golden crest; and another with a golden foundation and a black crest. As they got out at different stations, it was a bit awkward. They seem 1 believe, to have taken a prejudice against each other since. There are lots of people just now quite a« pleased as you were in your yesterday'? leader that the Superintendent and the Executive have settled their differences. The telegrams from the General Government were very amusing. The advice tendered by a paternal Government waß so particularly explicit. "The appointment, my dear Rolleston, was either legal or illegal. If legal, no need for the P. G. to interfere; and if illegal, the P.O. wash their hands of the whole business; and you must really remember, my dear fellow, that the undecided opinion expressed by the BoUcitor-General is not worth a rap to you

or any one else." That's about the pith of the whole correspondence. To an enquiring mind the question naturally occurs, •' What's the good of a Solicitor-General who wou't give a decided opinion to a Super in die tre9B ?" I could have given an undeciced opinion myself for half the cost of the telegrams. A sporting friend of mine defines the Sealey case as a race in which various times were given, but which was won by a jostle on the post This reminds me that many townships away South are increasing in population and importance. One of these runs an annual race meeting, I went there. Some years back there were only two or three houses in the township. Now they have got civilization in every respect. You may disbelieve it if you like, but they have recently started a barber's shop. I went thpre to get shaved. I was led into a dark room, and the operator commenced. He was a bit reckless with the Boap. I might almost say he was extravagant with it, because he fed me liberally for some minutes. He remarked that the weather was changeable, and began rasping at me. As Mr Twain observed under similar circumstances, I then became aware of the fact that cleaning kerosene limps was a portion of his duties. He wiped the soap on his hand first, and then on my coat. The razor seemed to have been originally intended for a bread knifa, but had evidently changed its mind, and gone into training as a saw. I came away with paddocks of stubble dotted about my chin, and with a gory ook. I expect that barber will make an aitist some day, but he wants plenty more practice.