THE GLOBE. SATURDAY, MAY 8, 1880.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1936, 8 May 1880, Page 2

THE GLOBE. SATURDAY, MAY 8, 1880.

The war correspondent of the “Lyttelton Times ” appears before the public in a totally new light. He is now a man with a grievance, and as such he has ventilated his wrongs together with the wrongs of the country at large in last Tuesday’s loader of the journal that is his lucky employer. As for the wrongs of the country, they are easily disposed of. The gravamen of the accusation is that the Government, in making their road through the plains, are driving at an impassable swamp, and that, consequently, Te Whiti is quite right in saying that the roads will never meet. The correspondent appears to agree with Te Whiti that this is a gigantic coup in favor of the Maoris. It may bo not impossible to go round the swamp, or the swamp itself may bo found ■ to bo not altogether so impassable as reported—that is nothing to the point. To Whiti and our friend the war correspondent are equally convinced of the fact that the Government is non-plusoed by the existence of this (to To Whiti) providential bog, and that the Native question is settled oneo and for all in favor of the aboriginal. A few raupo heads have done the business, and the oracle at Parihaka commands the situation, more particularly as the Natives are but waiting for the road makers to enter the swamp, when they intend to pounce down upon them and massacre them incontinently. , Indeed, those luxurious Maori warriors are said to bo building whares so that , they may watch with duo ease and comi fort the deluded Constabulary wading into the deeps, and, after having partaken

o£ refreshments, may sally forth when the foreigner is well up to his neck. Having disposed of the wrongs of the country, the war correspondent proceeds to dilate on his own particular grievances. Foremost amongst these stands his exclusion from the officers’ mess at the camp, which, according to the correspondent, has been done under direct orders from the Government. We should have thought, however, that the loss was that of the officers. The art of conversation has, it is agreed by all, pretty nearly died out in the present generation. Such men as “ Conversation Sharpe ” are no longer to he found. They are as extinct as the dodo. But if a representative does exist, we should say, judging by his letters, that our contemporary’s war correspondent was that representative. Wo can imagine him at his place at the moss—the upper part of his person clad in a garment something between a bandit’s and an irregular cavalry officer’s, and plentifully garnished with pistols and sabres, and his lower limbs, under the mahogany, encased in the long boots peculiar to war correspondents —charming the officers with stories of adventures on the Potomac, and of hair breadth’s escapes in the wilds of the jungle, and with his general views on military operations at largo. This is just the sort of thing that the British officer enjoys most thoroughly, and the loss of such an addition to their moss must have been deeply felt. But it is just possible that the Government had nothing whatsoever to do with the matter. It is within the bounds of probability that other reasons have caused the exclusion of the war correspondent from the delights of “ black strap ” and other mess luxuries. Supposing the Government ever to have been made nervous by reason of the correspondent’s valuable additions to the literature of the day it is probable that they would have acted some time ago. But they have managed to survive his series of letters, and oven the account of the stolen interview with Kimbell Bent, and unless provisions are remaining short at the camp, there is no reason why they should not still allow our friend “ the run of his teeth.” However the exclusion appears to bo a fait accompli, and the poor war correspondent has to provide for himself. “ Unbefriended, solitary, slow,” in what case is he ? Is he reduced to fricasseeing his long boots and boiling down his despatch box ? We trust not.

We dare say tbe “Lyttelton Times” is perfectly correct in saying that “their correspondent’s letters do not depend for their excellence on the accidents of dining.” This is lucky, though, indeed, the reverse is generally tho case. In tho case of most journalists the accident of dining de ■ pends very much on the excellence or the contrary of their letters. But in the present instance the flow of truthful information is in no danger of being stopt. The country at large must be congratulated. A perennial source of amusement is not to be dried up and, whether he dines or does not dine, the “ Lyttelton Times ” war correspondent declares himself equal to tho emergency.