THE LOAFER IN THE STREET.

Globe, Volume XXI, Issue 1815, 15 December 1879, Page 4

THE LOAFER IN THE STREET.

As an agricultural show would bo incomplete without the presence of Mr Wiihin, a race meeting without Mr Mi'lett, a flower show without Mr Kcrdo, or a free lunch without yours truly, so would a wedding or a funeral go off very lint unless favored by the presence of the ogod Tubbs. At weddings, Tubbs ever beams like a heavy father nt the conclusion of the last act, his face wreathed in smiles, and fcis nose gleaming like a danger signal. At the more solemn ceremony Tubbs is ever on hand. Whether the “ funeral baited meats coldly furnish forth the tables or not,” Tubbs with his obicquiel mug is over to the fore, with crape on his arm, and ready to throw glir.ces expressive of the keenest sympathy over a psrfeet stranger who may bo on his last journey. Tubbs is an institution. Hearing of a marriage coming off the other day, Tubbs wended his way to the church and lolled mirthfully against a post while waiting for the bridal party to arrive. Tike the wedding guests in the pathetic ballad of the Mistletoe Bough, ho waited in vain, for the bridegroom never turned up, having thought better of it, and faded per steamer into other climes. On hearing of this, Tubbs sighed heavily, gave his opinion of the recalcitrant bridegroom, and added, “Ah, well, I must get homo and change; I have a funeral at throe o’clock.” There is one department of your paper that is sadly behind the ago. I alludo to the agony column. Wo are a young country, it is true, and in many respects —very many respects, I may say—uncivilised, but I think we might have a little agony sometimes. As the following, for instance, which appears in the Sydney “ Town and Country ” : “The ‘Birthday Pocket Book.’ Weary, very weary, painfully anxious to hear of your welfare. ‘ I cannot mind my wheel, mother.’ ” I like to get my feelings rent asunder now and then by a statement such ns the above. It’s not to bo surprised at, though, that a young woman with so much wo about her cannot look after bar weal. Mate Jour mother do it, my dear ! A copy of rules has been handed to mo of an up-country cricket club. The club means well towards its members, as the following regulations will testify : “ 12. That no intoxicating drink bo carried on the ground by any member of the club during play, except for refreshments, sanctioned by the committee. “ 13. That any member using profane language on the ground shall be fined 3d for each offence.” Buie 12 is apparently framed with a view to keeping in restraint the drinking tendencies of members, but when men drink except for purposes of refreshment does not appear. If you were to introduce Rule 13 into your Cricket Club, I make bold to say it would be one of the most gigantic financial successes of the present age. “ How sweet are looks that ladies bend On whom their favors fall.” That’s what Sir Q-alahad observed, according to Mr Alfred Tennyson. Sir G-al don’t seem to have observed how ladies look on them on whom their favors don’t fall, which includes the belief that he must have been rather a favorite with the fair sox. Not to any extent though, because ho subsequently informs us that he never even squoze a girl’s hand in his life. Poor Gal. Poor Gals. I’ve no doubt this young knight had received kindly glances from the ladies’ gallery when getting trod on like a beetle in the tourneys of those times. It appears his sentiments hold good still however, I judge so from the remark made by a young and reverend gentleman at the recent session of the Diocesan Synod. As the minister in question was about to take his seat one day towards the close of tho session, ho remarked to his neighbor Wah Wau, “ This affaw’s getting weally quite slow now, tho—aw —ladies nevah put in any appeawance.” Whatever their powers of eloquence may be in their own whares amongst their eels and potatoes, the Maori chieftains in the House do not seem to be very heavy on tho talk. It is perhaps questionable whether some of their white confreres would not act more wisely for themselves and their constituents and save the country some expense by following their example. Your Maori, however, usually speaks to the point, and there has probably never been a more caustic retort recorded in the pages of “ Hansard ” than that made by Tawhai to our Mr Andrews, who was injudicious enough to think he knew something of Native affairs. On Mr Andrews being chaffed by some of the Northern members, Mr Tawhai defended him on the ground that it was a good thing for such members to speak about things they knew nothing about, as it made others who did know something get up and answer them. Mr Andrews will probably beg to be saved from a similar champion on a future occasion, and possibly may not again place himself in tho position of requiring such a friend. That the clerical Maori is not behind his parliamentary brother in point of repartee, tho following quotation from the report of the recent Wesleyan Conference will show: — “ The Bov. H. S. Harper (of Temuka) — Did ho understand that the Bev. TeKote had visited Temuka ? . “ The Bev. Te Koto —Yes; throe times. “ The Bov. H.S. Harper did not remember to hare seen him there. « The Bev. Te Kote —When tho hawk goes a-hunting, it does not see a mouse. [Loud laughter.] I will call and see Mr Harper next time lam at Temuka. “ The Bev. Te Kote resumed his report. This is how a gentleman expresses his wish to become a Benedict “ Wanted by advertiser a loving little wife, without encumbrance; ago no object. Write or apply to John Henaelborn, Post Office, Winslow. J. H., judging from the requirements expressed by him in the above advertisement, is anything hut difficile. Surely in tho Ashburton district, where J. H. advertises, he will be able to find a Loving Little Wife. The following advertisement appears in the vicinity of Hagley Paik : “ Notic to the Publick eny one seen cuting hhe Ooukfoot grass in the Plant tachens will be Proseouded.” I make a present of a gratuitous advertisement to those whom it may concern, and to the writer, who certainly deserves it. Talking of the Ashburton, I fancy a tea meeting there must be conducted on rather original principles. I j udge so from a remark I came across in a report of a recent festivity of that description. After giving the names of the ladies who presided on that occasion, we are told that “ the bachelors were, it is needless to say, well filled, and tastefully arranged.” On a future occasion it might be considered, perhaps, an improvement were the spinsters of the parish to bo also tastefully arranged. Such a course would, I’m sure, meet tho views of many, particularly those who, liko old John, mentioned above, are in search of loving little wives without encumbrances. That was a rather unfortunate affair about the Governor’s speech at the agricultural dinner. It has, however, brought us a compliment from Mr John Ollivier, who is good enough to say we sometimes make mistakes hut frequently give very fair reports. I’m sorry to learn that it is his Excellency’s opinion that wo are so much inferior to our Australian confreres, but so far as agricultural shows go they are more fully reported in the Christchurch papers than in any other journals. I don’t know what Mr Ollivier would consider a fair report, but I can assure him what are called mistakes are very easy to make. I have been there before myself you know. I made a mistake once, to which painful reminiscence I referred once before in these columns. I wan sent to tho pig class. I wrote up tho hogs to the best of my ability. I said |I preferred Mr O’Shaughnessy’s hog King of Killinchy to Mr McGillicuddy’s Duke of Leinster, and thought tho judges were wrong, (The judges make more mistakes than wo do, Mr Ollivier.) Next morning six feet two inches of tho McGillicuddy family called around at tho office, hit me four times hard on tho nose, and accosted me with with a boot in a strong Milaysian accent. Two of the judges loft memos, with the Editor about tho disgraceful ignorance of the pig reporter, and I’ve never written any pig show biographies since. Times are looking up. Wool up. The loan floated. Crops grand ovorywhoro; but the surest sign of all comes to mo from an habitue of Mr Boots, tho confectioner. People that have recently had to content themselves with one cup of tea and three buns now take two cups and our even five buns. By such signs docs the observant colonist mark tho onward march of civilisation and progressive prosperity.