NOTES FROM LYTTELTON.

Globe, Volume VII, Issue 793, 6 January 1877, Page 3

NOTES FROM LYTTELTON.

The policeman has a hard time of it. As the representative of law and order he is sure to be hated heartily by those to whom law and order are obnoxious, and the sight of a constable’s uniform in an excited crowd seems to have much the same effect a glaring red rag has on a hull. That they must be supported in every way is undoubtedly true, and I was much pleased to see those men receive such a severe sentence on Thursday last. Ido not think, however, that any general attack on the police was planned, as the Sergeant-Major seems to think. It was just an unpremeditated free fight. Why Sergeant, I remember when I was a boy that nothing gave us greater pleasure than to worry a bobby; we have stretched strings across streets for him to tumble over, have induced him to pick up cunningly devised parcels containing mud, &c, have emptied over and pitched at him innumerable things when he was down the area holding honeyed converse with ‘‘ Mariar Ann,” and in many other ways have worried him. Sailors are nothing but children, and behave towards members of the force in the same unreasoning way, and the wonderful patience which the police show under abuse has always been much admired by me. But I should like to see a little more sense shown sometimes. It appears to me that although the policeman has frequently to act in cases where the very greatest discretion is required, he is as a rule, densely stupid ; though of course there are a great many honorable exceptions. The only thing that seems to be thought of in selecting men to act as constables, is whether they arebigenough and have nostain on their character. Now, I humbly submit that if some examination were required to show that the candidates were possessed of a certain amount of general knowledge fitting them in a certain degree for the very responsible duties they have to perform, it would be a good thing and might tend to raise the standard of the whole force.

The town clock has been at it again with a vengeance, and if the execrations of hundreds could smash it, it would be strewing the Lyttelton pavement in a million fragments. How many a time this week have I seen unfortunate wretches glance with a smile at its deceitful face and walk calmly to the station to find the train gone, and all ‘ ‘ their young hopes blighted. ” I remember a furious gentleman who wrote about the sin and wickedness of Petersen and Co, in placing their name on the clock in such a conspicuous position, and said that they ought to pay a large sum every year for such a glaring advertisement. Now it is my opinion, after mature reflection, that the writer of that letter was a fool, and if I were Petersen and Co. I would have my name off sharp. Lyttelton’s great annual festival is past and gone, and we, Lyttelton, are the victors in the great contest between New Zealand coasters. Hurrah, then, for Captain Clarke, who so worthily bears the laurels he has fairly won. I hear a great deal about Gsordie Clarke’s fin, but after the pluck he has shown, I don’t know anyone’s that I would shake with more enthusiasm ; and I say, Geordie, wouldn’t some of the Aucklanders have liked to shake it, too, befcre the race ? I’ve always, since I could swallow, had a liking for XXX, and all my associations with it are pleasant. Years ago I was carried away to sea from Blackhead, in the old Esther ; there was very little bread aboard and it was soon eaten up. We lay for days becalmed off Cape Palliser, and all we had to eat and drink were some sardines and some XXX bottled porter. What was the result ?—why, I have hated sardines ever since—the very sight of the nasty greasy tins makes mo feel squeamish—but my affection for XXX never waned, and I don’t think it will, so here’s to XXX, the winner of the champion race, and her gallant commander, and I hope they will do well in the race to-day, and, if not winners, will be close up. Our Commodore was treated with scant courtesy by the Thunderer. Its rather a good joke to go to a man’s house, partake of refreshment, forage around pretty smartly for drink, and then write to the paper abusing him for not having provided for you better. It was looking a gift horse in the mouth with a vengeance I The same authority stated that lots of people got aboard the flag ship without tickets. To put it mildly, that’s a crammer. There could have been no uninvited guests aboard from the strict care exercised in keeping the gangway. They did rush the grub though, and in spite of only having about one knife and fork, two spoons, and a tumbler between every twelve of them, managed to put it away very comfortably. I heard a tale about one young lady that amused me much. She was very fond of mustard, and there was some close to her, but all vehicles to the month being in such demand, the spoon had of course been boned. What was she to do ? She loved mustard, but she also loved appearances. For a time theie was a struggle, but eventually mustard conquered, and after a glance up and down the table to see if any one was looking, she made a frantic dig at the Durham with her knife, and succeeded in placing a portion of it triumphantly on her plate.

The Secret has carried off the great Champion Yacht Cup to the satisfaction of nearly all port. More power to the true sportsmen who came such a long way to compete. I only wish we could have given the Winona a prize too. True pluck is always more shown in the way a man takes a beating than under any other circumstances. The gallant way in which Mr Street took his, has really delighted all true Portonians, and when at any future time we hear of his success in any other regatta, how we shall jump for joy and say, the man who knew how to lose deserves to win. Portont./ln.