LOAFER IN THE STREET.

Globe, Volume VII, Issue 701, 18 September 1876, Page 4

LOAFER IN THE STREET.

{From the Press') You may remember that I was giving yoit last week a really animated description of Dunedin. I must continue it. Not that I feel equal to the occasion, Dunedin has been hymned as it were by abler harps than mine, but you don’t seem to keep any local news, and politics are very mixed just now. I know of several men who have t aken to steady drink through a well meant hut misplaced endeavor to understand our politico: position. I may here remark that, reflecting on the public career of our leading statesman, I feel sad that I never got apprenticed to politics in early life. I might possibly have learned to become a patriot. I might: have in time, with years of study, thought it sweet and pleasant to die for my country, but I feel sure I could easily have learned how pleasant it is to get paid by her and—leave her. Let me get on to Dunedin. Before I go any further I want to tell you that hospitality was poured all over me there. I wish to acknowledge this, with thanks, and the more so, because I don’t think we are much given that way here. Strictly between ourselves, we don’t entertain anything but first-class angels unawares, or even otherwise. I expect its our high tone; but it’s a solid fact that a large working majority of your readers could play the part of the Levite in the Goo“ Samaritan without more than a dozen rehearsals. It is the correct thing I’m told now to admire nothing. For ray own pari; I don’t often find much to admire. I don't upon my word, but I’m always ready and open to conviction, Thus it is that when the old man travels around he can always reverence any institution, from the poetic surroundings of Kaiapoi down to tne sobriety of Timaru. I never blow about Christchurch. Don’t observe my grammar too closely just now, but I want to say that when I’m in a strange province, and the boys have shown me round and extracted about three columns and a half (bourgeois) of admiration from me, I can always smash them right up. I only ask “ Have you got any Pilgrims or drainage question in your metropolis ?” And they never have. That’s where Christchurch stands alone preeminent. As my sporting companion would say it is a double event worth backing. The Dunedin drains are not exciting. They run. Ours don’t. But Dunedin has something very closely approximating to our pilgrims. Jt possesses what I understand it is correct to call “ The Old Identity.” The Canterbury Pilgrim has resided here say twenty-four years ; and to put it mildly makes the miss of his scallop and sandal shoou. The Old Identity is very similar. I met one or two. I heard them talk. I don’t know that they were much ahead of our Pilgrims in conversation. I only wish I had been an early colonist in some country. It appears to give you a pre-emptive right over the lands of Boredom. Your readers will endorse this. I often bore people, but I should feel so much less guilty in doing it were I a pilgrim or an old identity. But this is not Dunedin. I went over Guthrie and Larnach’s establishment. This requires time. Mr Clayton showed us round and explained things to us. He says he thinks my mind is not very mechanical, He assured me that lots of boys aged nine in the employ of the firm knew more about mechanics than ever I should be likely to know. I think he is right, but the manufactory is a big feature. It appears to me they can make anything there in the wood line, aud I only wish I could do justice to the institution, but I am not, as you know, good on descriptive business, Your terms for describing machinery are too long to induce a towering intellect to take the subject up, but I may say that they can turn a chair out of a log there just while you’re thinking about sitting down. Mr Clayton said, when I was leaving, that he would’nt like my going without some souvenir of the place, and said I could take a log out of the yard home to Canterbury. It weighs about two tons, and I’m thinking how I shall get it up. I shall go down for it soon. Of course I went over Marshall and Copeland’s brewery. You will always find it a good thing to assist breweries, when you’re in a foreign land. I always make a point of it. I should pay this brewery was about the most complete in New Zealand. I met a lone orphan hero. He took me for Mr Marshall. The lone one was travelling on Fox’s Book of Martyrs. He was anxious to sell me a copy on deferred payments. Curious, isn’t it ? How a man slides into the spirit of the times. I expect all New Zealand payments will be very deferred soon. Mine always have been. The agent for Martyrdom didn’t trade with me, but he seemed to like beer, and apropos of beer, they have a style of their own in Dunedin. You can get fair poison anywhere there, which is more than I could truthfully say of Christchurch. This is only parenthetical, but what I want to say is that they have a novelty in Dunedin. I allude to j what the Otago Daily Times calls “ Double i Drunks,” A man gets drunk, then arrested, j then bailed out. He subsequently sees more Bacchus, and gets run in again, and gets next morning doubly fined on the double event. I don’t agree with any one who drinks too much, it’s a mistake ; but there is something original about a double drunk, and it is refreshing to dig out something original, even if you delve it out of intemperance. In some respects I can’t understand Dunedin, I know after living here as long as you have you won’t believe it; but I solemnly assure you that during the eight days I was in Otago’s capital no one had a presentation, I declare this is a real fact, I told the boys at the Press Club, and very good boys they are too, that our papers, not to mention the public, would be lost without at least one presentation a week. In Canterbury at the present moment there are only three persons living who have not received a presentation from their admirers. One is bedridden, another is a rare collector, and the other is • fairly honest man, who is so disgusted being left out that ne is going to Meibom- 1 to hide his emotions as soon as he ca..

sacrifice his furniture by auction. Duned'u ia a larger place than this. I expect there is more business done there in one day than there is here in six. I almost think yon could live there a week without your neignbors knowing what you had for dinner, and hearing what your mother-in-law thought about you. That’s what I dislike about youi large towns. Now here everybody knows everthing, and ever so much more abo n everybody else; and this does save so much trouble, because when you know more of done, than Jones does himself, it follows natural ly that Jones need not tell you abc a tils affairs. I think we have a hi of a puli over Dunedin so far. Feeding fa gljfflp in Dnnedin, The following is the

advertised Bill of Fare of the London Pie House.—“ Choice of dinner, la ; soup and bread, 3d; strong made dish, 6d ; boiled beef and vegetables (a good feed), 6d; bombshells, 6d.” I didn’t go to the London Pie House, which I regret; because I should like to know what sixpenny bombshells are like. Mr Watson’s room is worth seeing though. It is the biggest and beat feeding room—if I may so call it—-in the Southern Hemisphere ; it is a room worth seeing, and talking about feeding, perhaps you didn’t Lear of that extraordinary cireums ; ance that occurred here the other day, Th y opened the New Brighton bridge, and there was a free repast given at Mrs Oram s Hotel. At this festive board only seven people put in an appearance. Only seven I give you my word, and even allowing that sufficient publicity was not given to the fact that a gratis blow out was obtainable, does it not show us how unsettled the country is, and bow much better it would be if the Government decided to show a more decided aspect. Dunedin has two theatres. Very good ones. “Our Boys” was going well—and very well—atone, and “Transported for Life” at the other. Our Boys here know all about “Our Boys” now, and they naturally seem to like it. I do, and I don’t dislike some of our girls either. Mr Darrell’s “ Transported for Life” knocked the public. I have little doubt you will have a chance of seeing it yourself one of these days. I went to the sale yards in Dunedin. Mr Stevenson is the presiding genius, and a very good genius he is. I didn’t see any of his ideas in catalogues, but but he can’t beat us there. Why only yesterday I read of a man advertising a milch goat in good working order. The Dunedin churches are ahead of ours in point of architecture. I certainly did not see anything down there at all comparable in simple beauty to our German Church, but then I don’t suppose I could in any town in the world ; but I wish somebody could see their way to donating a fresh instalment of bells to our Teutonic steeple. A peal of three is rather a small team even for such a one horse town as Christchurch. I came back overland. It’s a beautiful ride. Ned Devine took us the first stage. It makes the old man feel indeed venerable, when he ponders on how many years it is since he first sat beside the genial Cabbage Ned. Ned was as genial and jolly as of yore. Here is a little reminiscence of Ned. It’s an old story, I dare say, but it will be new to the majority of your readers: Some years agoja certain Provincial Treasurer of Otago was going to travel by the coach. He engaged the box seat the day previous to his departure ; and got it. Shortly after leaving, it came on to rain hard It then occurred to the Treasurer that he would be better inside. The coach was choke fall with passengers, and the Provincial dignitary suggested that Ned should turn one of the inside passengers out to make room for him. Ned declined, ’hereby drawing upon himself the Treasurer’s wrath. “Do you know who I am, sir,” he stormed out at last, “ I am Mr , the Provincial Treasurer.” “ And a deuced good billet too.” says Ned, “and I should advise you to stick to it.” The road overland is, as I have before observed, very picturesque. My sporting companion slumbered peacefully, but always woke up regularly at the accommodation houses, which he invariably patronised, acting on a theory peculiarly his own. This theory was that when a man erects an accommodation house for the benefit of travellers, it is your bounden duty to drink at his house, even if if you be not thirsty. We made Oamaru the first night, Timaru the second, and then home by train. These places are, as the auctioneers say, too well known to require comment. I dare say next week I shall be able to say something more about them. Don’t you think I have done with Dunedin, yet, either. An exhaustive town like that is'nt used up in two papers. But I must stop just now.

The cause of teetotalism in the British army in India has mate such rapid strides of late, and is assuming such large proportions, as to attract attention. Out of an army of some 60,000 men, about 8000 have taken the pledge. The Kev Mr Gregson, of Agra, is working this reform in the British army.

A correspondent in V Union Medicals calls attention to the fact that palpitations, when not depending upon organic disease, may be almost immediately arrested by bending the head downward and allowing the arms to hang pendent. The effect is even still more rapidly produced by holding the breath for a few seconds while the body is in this bent position.