LOAFER IN THE STREET.

Globe, Volume VI, Issue 672, 15 August 1876, Page 3

LOAFER IN THE STREET.

(From the Press') The speeches on separation, wired down daily, are full of interest to numerously few people. I don’t remember ever wading through so much elocution with so little in it. Fond as I am of politics, I feel as if I should be almost weary of hon member’s remarks on separation, say in another week “ It is now fully understood,” says the special correspondent of the Times, “ on both sides, that the division will be 35 for and 52 against Sir George Grey’s resolutions.” If it be fully understood that this will be the subsequent state of the poll, what upon earth is the good of any further debating on the subject,

There is a pleasant little paragraph in Saturday’s political telegrams in reference to the Great Southern Railway. Mr Wakefield requested information about the unsafe condition of the timber viaducts in the approach to Timaru from the North. The Minister for Public Works, in reply, stated that the Department had received no communication about it, but said that it was the intention of the Government, when the enlargement of the Timaru Station was taken in hand, to make these viaducts perfectly safe. The inference is, to put it mildly, of a nature to make Southern travellers hope for a speedy start at the enlargement of the Timaru Station. A correspondent, who signs himself “ Octopus,” has, it appears, been warming up the Good Templars in the Licensed Victuallers' Gazette. “ Octopus ” has drawn upon himself indignation and a very original response from a correspondent to the Lyttelton Times. The gentleman in question quotes a letter from a brewer, who it would appear has resigned the fmalt business in consequence of pangs of conscience. He also gives us a case of a Baptist minister who refused a subscription from a Licensed Victuallers’ Society. I cannot quite see what particular bearing these cases have on “ Octopus ” or on the subject, but I must really compliment the Lyttelton Times correspondent on his poetry. Here it is : “ Aid (the Local Option Bill) Press and pen, Aid it "all ye honest men, To redeem our land from shame, Caus’d by the traffic stain.” There’s a very rhythm about these lines which reminds me of—well its hard to say what, but I shall look forward to some more poetry from the same source with considerable pleasure and curiosity. You never saw any of ray versification did you? You would be much struck by it A correspondent sends me the following, which he says is descriptive of a recent occurrence in the Northern district;— John Pope he had a tabby cat, And Taylor had a sardine tin, This little tin he deftly tied Around the tabby’s feline chin. The Papal passions quickly rose, And John he jumped about the place, Soon meeting Taylor with a friend, He smack’d him twicely in the face. I’m not answerable for either the opinions or verses of my correspondents, and I wish to inform the combatants above alluded to that I’ve gone to New Brighton for a month to report specially on the wild life and dissipation of that city. Who was the genius that made the extraordinary statement that you might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb ? What an ass he must have been I Apply the axiom to business and where are you? Go in and start in business ; fail for thousands and you will have gallons of sympathy and tuns of assistance poured about you, but fail for a small amount and you’re a black hearted villain, I know not why this is thus, but thus it is this. There are, however* I must confess, aggravating things about small bankruptcies. Here is a case of the kind. The following letter was received by a confiding creditor recently : “ Sir, —Herewith I enclose fourpence in stamps, amount of your dividend, twopence in the £ on £1 19s 9d in the estate ofplease acknowledge receipt of same.” You will observe the creditor receives fourpence, out of which bang goes twopence in acknowledging that out of £1 19s 9d he don’t even get the price of a glass of beer. It’s very rarely we come across anything original here in the crime line. We are ccoasionally startled by the thrilling news that an inebriate, who appeared for the first time at Timaru, was dismissed with a caution, and the number of gentlemen who make mistakes about cheques is so numerous that forgery is monotonous, and so common as to become low. The youthful burglar recently captured in Dunedin is a bird of another color. The complete set of cracksman’s tools, the wigs, disguises, and loaded pistols, remind one of the festive John Sheppard, Esq. Master Donnelly, however, it appears, had a taste for Sunday School tuition. He recited hymns in the afternoon, and robbed houses in the evening. A nice pious man. Silas Wegg professionally declined and fell, and as a friend dropped into poetry. Donnelly, as a friend, went for psalmody, and professionally dropped, by means of jemmies, into the houses of his neighbours. Mr Scotland, barrister-at-law, and member of the Legislative Council of New Zealand, has been wriling to the Belfast News Letter, Mr Grant had written to the same paper previously a letter, which I expect most of your readers have read. It was fairly abusive of the colony. Mr Scotland followed suit. He embraces Grant journalistically, so to speak, and says he himself has, like Grant, been the victim of persecution. This fellow-feeling makes him kind enough to plunge into the original statement that not an acre of land can be got hold of here without buying or renting it. He goes on to inform the Belfast public that our Parliament is a caricature ; that millions of money have been frittered away upon flimsy public works, an almost universally corrupt, disreputable Press (just think of your motto), and a whole host of equally corrupt political adventurers. Our aristocracy are vulgar-souled. New Zealand may be said to be saturated with rowdyism, and the very few gentlemen in this colony find little inducement either in politics or society to tempt them from the state of isolation in which they are as it were compelled to live. Scotland writes as above. I humbly suggest to Scotland that he should stand no longer where he does ; that he should isolate himself a little more—say on a fair medium-sized iceberg near the sunny south pole. Not too far south, you know ; but just too far to send for him, unless we want him very badly. I see a subscription is being raised for the family of Mr Fuller, recently taxidermist to the Museum, Mr Fuller contributed in no small degree to the success of that institution. The result of his Qlenmark explorations put, I believe, several hundred pounds to the credit of the Museum, and his subsequent labours are to be seen by any visitor to that institution. If half of the many who weekly go there would contribute their mite to the fund which is being collected by Dr Haast and Mr Potts, they would pay a kindly and serviceable tribute to the memory of one who was perhaps more useful in his generation than most of us are likely to be. The football team goes shortly away. Foot ball is a nice game. I have, I think, given you my impressions of it some while since. 1 hope our team may have that success which

they undoubtedly deserve, because I should sry, speaking according to my lights, that the amount of pleasure derivable from such an excursion must be very limited. Start from Port, sick all the way to Wellington, a rush off the steamer to the tented field, two hours play, returning to the ship with abrasions all over. Then more sickness. More abrasions da capo, and then a return home, thinking what a pleasant time you’ve had. I like muscular Christianity, and the old man can almost weep when he looks back to the times that are no more, when he thought- it pleasure to be knocked flat by four fourteen stone men three times in the course of an afternoon. The Lyell Argus is, I’ve no doubt, a very well conducted and excellent journal. It is not a large paper. It is about the size of an ordinary sheet of foolscap with a wide margin. Its advertisements do not appear numerous, and I was quite struck by the sweet manner in which the editor gets out of reporting a public meeting. This is how he addresses his readers on the subject:— “ Our readers will find no account of the public meeting. From the mover’s remarks we were led to expect 1 dirty work,’ vide Mr McCoy’s at the Board meeting. We therefore naturally shunned both the mover and the meeting, and we are not sorry.” How differently you would have acted. You would have started the old man down to take that meeting in extenso, and if he had come back with a contused prolos probably would have accused him of having had too much to drink. I find in the same issue of the L. Argus that a fire broke out in the ice house on July 22nd, caused by spontaneous combustion; damage, a million, 1 must visit Lyell. I feel pleased to hear they have mansions like that there. I want to see a nice house like that, and live in it a bit, “ Who hath not felt when sad and lone, The magic pressure of a hand, The music of a friendly tone, We all that charm well understand, But there’s a rapture deeper—dearer, Lore’s symbolnn its seal of bliss, When hearts and lipscome nearer, nearer, And language melts into a kiss.” Thus, in “The White Oat,” charmingly sings a very talented young lady, and without professing any knowledge of the subject, I’ve no doubt there’s a lot of truth in it. I’ve heard numbers of fellows express themselves to the same effect, only not half so eloquently. There are cases where kissing seems to be out of place. Cases where it is better to follow the example of Sir Galahad, “ who never felt the kiss of love, nor (estimable young man) maiden’s hand in his,” than that of Paolo. One of these cases came recently before Judge vVard. His Honor recommended the prisoner, who it appears had kissed a young woman against her will, to study the statute of the Templars (I don’t mean the Good Templars) concerning the avoidance of kisses, and finished up his address by the following suggestions: —“ If you are a married man it will be well for you to be satisfied with the kisses you may get at home ; for irrespective of the question of morality, you will find them rather expensive luxuries if you go abroad for them." His Honor appears to be of opinion that if you “ Kiss a young lady against her will, she will keep to the same opinion still.” I expect he’s nearly right. The Board’s engineer is troubled in mind about the waste of water in this town. He reckons that there are 240 odd gallons of water per head wasted daily. I’m grieved about this. It calls up to my mind the taunt of the Assyrian general to the King of Israel, in reference to finding him several thousand horses if he could, on his part, find qualified riders for them. Perhaps some energetic and liberal citizen could be found who would provide enough soap to meet the exigencies of the 240 gallons waste. I know lo f s of people here who could stand in for a treat like that with advantage to themselves and others, but who probably wouldn’t if they had the chance. Why, I have often asked, do men write to the papers to inform the public that they were not the parties fined for inebriety at the R.M, Court? Firstly, rude though it may seem to say, who the dickens cares whether they were drunk or not? And, secondly, in most cases your neighbors are always perfectly conversant with your sobriety, or the reverse—especially the reverse. In connection with this topic I have been surprised twice lately, Marc Antony was fined recently at the Ashburton for using naughty words. I was surprised to see that Marc did not write to the papers to say that he was not the gentleman who requested the Roman populace to weep over Ciew's overcoat, and who made love to Cleopatra. I was again surprised to see Mr Gapes’ disclaimer. Who on earth would suspect Mr G. of inebriety ? But Mr Gapes makes a mistake when he says his name is uncommon. It’s in everybody’s mouth—first thing iu morn and last in dewy eve. The last time I gave a reading on electricity the room was full of Gapes.