LOAFER IN THE STREET.

Globe, Volume VII, Issue 793, 5 January 1877, Page 3

LOAFER IN THE STREET.

{l'rom the Press.) The New Zealand Shipping Company is a great, and I should hope, a paying institution. Their ships are well officered, make good passages, and are, I’m told, replete with every convenience for the comfort of passengers, and last, but not least, the company possesses somewhere—l wish I know where — an official of considerable originality. I allude to the gentleman who drew out their prospectus. I learn from this literary effort that “ infants under twelve months travel free, that passengers are supplied with a liberal dietary, including Live Stock, and that the magnificent clippers of the company are built specially to meet the requirements of the trade between the United Kingdom and, Great Britain, The italics are mine. I should like to know the author of this prospectus. In his own line I always thought the poet of B. Moses and Son a fair thing, but 10, here is even a greater genius than he. “ Well, Mr Smith, and how do you manage to keep yourself cool this hot weather,” said an Australian magnate to one of his staff, the other day. “ Well, your excel' lency,” was the reply. “ I sit as much as possible in a cold bath, and read all about the Arctic Expedition.” It is not every one who can afford time to carry out the above recipe, but there was a man I know, the other i day, who had some Blight difference with

his family. He received a judgment summons on their behalf. He neglected to appear on one or two occasions; bub at the third time of asking, thinking, I imagine, some little courtesy was due to the presiding magistrate, he sent turn on the da) the case was on the following telegram “ busy ; say ton shillings per week Missed the train.” Now there’s a coolncs 1 about this man that is very refreshing in this warm weather. The provinces being abolished, things arc, I suppose, different The old order changet.h, giving place to new. I haven’t seen much change myself yet, but, as most of the honorable members in their post sessional utterances have made morituri te salutant talks, I suppose we are dead or changing in some form or other. The whole thing was explained to me thoroughly once or twice, but I haven’t mastered abolition properly yet. Grosbeuf has though, partially. Abolition was thrust on to him. He was riding in a railroad keer and the guard requested his ticket. He produced his Pass, which was a Provincial Council perquisite. The guard observed that the pass was like the property of a gentleman returning to India, there was no further occasion for it. *' Well,” said Grosbeuf, “ I thought I’d stick to the provinces as long as they stuck to me, but you’d best pass me, because I mean to be a member for a riding. “ And a very good member you’d be, sir,” said the guard, “so long as the riding is free.” And then the other passengers saw the joke, and laughed, but I don’t expect you to, I observe you always give us a column or two about the church decorations at Christmas time. I like it, but this section of your journal might be improved. You might give your readers a few particulars about the costumes of the ladies. I know many excellent female Christians who would appreciate your journal a great deal better if you employed a millinery reporter on your staff. They would have more satisfaction in calling themselves miserable sinners, and do it with more regularity if they could depend even occasionally on a few nice allusions as to the costume they wore on such occasions. You think it over. By the way, I went to church myself on Christmas Day, The verger—by which I mean the man who shows you into a seat—was a singist of the first force. He sang as he ran you in. Mr Rigby’s John Bull Tavern in Melbourne is still as ever unrivalled for its luncheons, and this is how the hon Rigby impresses the fact on the readers of the Lorgnette ; " Bating maketh a full man ” —Bacon “ Summon Rigby ”—Shakspeare “ The Gastronomic (Esophagus—Dr Johnson “ Above the belt ” —Boxiana “ Cheap food is Epizootic ” —Tyndall “ I reverence a chine of veal ” —Scott “ The green fat of turtle ” —Macaulay “No Homoepathic platefuls ” David Blair “ I dozed awhile ” —Milton “ Mine Host, I will return ” —Swift “ Strike me into a quart pot ” —W. Sykes

A Northern paper informs us that the Mayor of the town has been presented by the aldermen with a silver cradle as a slight acknowledgment of his wife’s public spirit in presenting him with a son daring his mayorality. Your contemporary adds that the above ceremony is not so highly honored as it ought to be in New Zealand, considering the large sums she spend upon immigration schemes. Perhaps not. When a chief civic dignitary is getting into such a position that he need not be ashamed when he speaks with his enemies in the gate, it may possibly be a graceful act on the part of his fellow couucillors to make him a presentation suggestive of the fact; but if it be true that sons take after their fathers, there are mayors I have met in this country I should prefer seeing without the slight acknowledgment of the silver cradle. Once, in other days and happier hours, I took a job lamb minding, and got the sack in two days. It may bo judged frem this I’m not strong on pastoral pursuits, neither am I, like the friend of the immortal Joe Gargery, “ a corn and seedsman in my ’art,” but I like these things. It may be true that love makes the world go round, but I expect we should soon stop without wheat quotations. We have been hitherto without any journal devoted to agricultural and pastoral pursuits, and I’m glad the Association are bringing out such a paper. For years past you inform the public in your advertisement “ The Weekly Press has found a place in almost every shepherd’s hut and solitary homestead in New Zealand ” This Country Journal will cut you out with the shepherdsThere is one paragraph in this number that struck me particularly. It refers to a big drove of cattle, numbering 30,000, which we are informed “ were duposed of for £60,000, being about £2 a head !” If the editor,goes on making abstruse calculations in this style for the benefit of his readers ho will knock up on it.

“Wanted Known—All tenants can save their rent, ami also be their own landlords in this country, by seeing O. W. Clayton, and have his credit like a gentleman, because when he has got a little cottage of his own—a freehold—he can get credit if he should be hard up, When he has nothing you can’t get anything. Tradesmen would let him have credit. This is the first step that a working man should start for, for his wife and family, and rid himself of that great drag—rent! rent! rent ! —which has been keeping him poor so long. See O. W, Clayton, Brougham street,” The above appears to me a conundrum, I presume, like the sayings of the great Bunsby, the pint of it lies in the application ; but 0. Clayton, have you not got the two a bit mixed up. They run a paper properly in Ross, as the following statement from the editor of the Guardian will show, “Our staff has been picnicing during the last two days, and as it is impossible to work and pi «y at the same time, the reports of the sports and other items are held over till next issue." There is in the above, a consideration manifested by the editor towards his employes, almost, I should fancy, without a parallel in journalism. Next time the staff of the R. Guardian go picnicing, I should suggest to the editor to get his sports and other items written in advance. This is done occasionally with success on this side of the dividing range. I read a statement in the pages of a contemporary to the effect that the Wellington young ladies now raise their hats when passing clergymen in the street. I disbelieve this statement. I can’t see bow it is to be done. Ic may be that the Wellington ladies have hats made on purpose for paying respect to ecclesiastics, but they must be constructed on quite a different basis from the ones I see worn here, I’m perfectly sure

that sooner than raise a hat to any Church dignitary, the Christchurch ladies would be torn to death by wild livery stable horses. I’m incredulous about even the Wellington young ladies. I find it as hard to believe as if any one stated that half the Christchurch men took off their hats to ladies. The Rangiora Standard I consider one of the smartest written papers in Sew Zealand. My opinion may not be worth much, hut that is mv opinion I read it with far more enjoyment than I do many more pretentious journals, but I observe an advertisement in this week’s issue that is far more amusing than any of the original matter. It is the advertisement of a man who combines the professions of Tailoring, Hairdressing, and Photographing. Apropos of the first, a perfect fit is guaranteed—of the second, hair is brushed by machinery, in connection with superior limejuice and glycerine, and of the third, the advertiser remarks that his success as an artist is so well known as to need no comment. I gladly call attention to this establishment, where it would appear a fellow can first select a fetching suit of clothes, then be ruddied up by the barber, and finish up by having a photo taken, which under such favorable circumstances could hardly fail to be a pronounced success.