THE LOAFER IN THE STREET.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2244, 7 May 1881, Page 3

THE LOAFER IN THE STREET.

There is a lot of interesting reading to be found frequently in the visitors’ books one meets with in hoatelries situated at places of interest. Most readers of Whyte Melville will recollect the American who, visiting Niagara Falls, thus recorded his impression in the visitors’ book at the hotel : “ Niagara, Niagara, You aro indeed a staggerer.” He stopped there, which is to be regretted, for judging from his take off his descriptive poem would have contained a.good deal of originality. Then there is the interesting statement to Globe Trotters and the European public generally at Ohamounix, where what Captain Marryatt would have called, “My friends, some of the Smithe of London,” announce that “ the unparalleled Brussel’s carpets aro to be obtained at No. —. Cheapside. N.B.—The carpets are fabricated on the promises by Mr Brussells himself.” Then there is the American tourist in Wales, who thus celebrates his impression of the great show mountain: ‘ I’m right away here in the wilds of Wales, Very near all the mountains I have go’ed on. But the most emphatic fraud in the world, Is the blasted hill called Snowdon.” You seldom moot such impressions in colonial visitors’ books. A traveller here thinks it sufficient to record his patronymic, coupled perhaps with a feeble remonstrance about a recalcitrant “Boots,” or the quality of the Boer. I had almost begun to despair of ever seeing anything at all approaching to originality, when by a piece of good luck an old friend sent me the Cass (which is the half-way house on the overland route to Hokitika) Visitors’ Book. A few selections from this work will, I think, prove amusing, it not instructive, as giving the impressions of a most varied crowd of guests who have passed through. The Book commences with the autographs of Archdeacon Harper, and Messrs J. L. Coster and Justin Aylmer. The first name was a very appropriate one, considering its connection with the West Coast. Its owner was universally beloved all over the diggings, and his name is still a household word there. The only statement these gentlemen made was, that they arrived on October 19lb, and departed on October 20th. A party, including Mr Bonar, Mr Maude, and the Hon. J. Hall, “ were much pleased with the accommodation, and with the politeness of the host.” Several others remark “do.” In foot the book is full of “ do’s.” AMr Larkin states that he found the civility "unrivaled ,” while Mr Ward gives his opinion as follows : —“ House quiet. Landlord very nice.” (Most of the visitors include tho landlady as well.) “ Hay forks abolished ; civilisation progressing.” The first complaint we come across is that of a Mr Tait, who qualifies his praise of the beer by the remark—“ But there are no barmaids.” An old pressman I am well acquainted with also says the beer was very good, but regrets having had tho rum. We now come to the first attempt at poetry. Here it is : “ Dinner prime, Whiskey sublime, And young lady divine.” A little further on we come to higher flights, such as the following ; “ If yon travel far or travel near, It’s hero you will find tho best of beer. If you go east, if you go west, If you pass this, you pass the best.” A reverend gentleman next complains " That the only want is single-bedded rooms.” On a future occasion the hostelrie seems to have held a curious collection of mixed company. The party was composed of Dr. Morrison, of the Scotch College, Melbourne, with pupils 5 Mrs Muria (a Maori lady travelling incog.) and Barbara W., the belle of Westland. Another gentleman thus briefly gives his one night’s experience:— “Very clean and comfortable. Got tight.” Chas. Kennedy produces a very well rounded sentence, which ends as follows :—“ What gladdens every traveller’s heart on a wintry night ? A bright fire, a good table and t smiling waitress. A very flattering complimentary notice from Mr Orombie Brown follows a poem from the Rev. John Brown, His reverence is not strong in this line—- “ Housemaid divine! I wish I could call her mine. To soothe my troubles and ease my woes, To cook my victuals and mend my clothes.” Facing a pretty little pen and ink sketch of mountain scenery is the record of the visit of the Harris family and friends. I allude to tho cricketing nobleman of that name, who writes a little poem, a very nice little poem—- “ Don’t if hero you chance to pass, Unnoticed leave the inn at Cass, Stay a night if you can do it, We stayed too, and didn’t rue it.” This is signed by Ada Hornby, Lucy Ada Karris, A. Hornby, A. Webbe, L. Hone, F. and T. Schultz, and Father Mackinnon. Tho next page is very poetic. Some travelling church officers insert the beneath—

“ Why Anthony Trollope should have slept through the Pass, When he might have made sure he’d be writ down an ass.” which with all duo deference to Antonius, I think he was rather. Another poet puta out the following wail: — 11 ’Xia wet in front, and wet behind, The clerk of the weather is moat unkind.” Here is another October 16th, “ Morris alias 1 Frcnohy ’ passed through yesterday. Being only one shade lighter than a Maori, he requires whitewashing.” Underneath this is “ Frenchy’a ” answer— October 17lh —I’ll hit the writer of the above straight on the nose when I meet him.” The compliments by travellers extend frequently to the drivers, thus one party writes in this connection. “I’ve driven with all tho old drivers, ' Old Shep,’ Martin Slobie, Knox, and Dick Greening, but blessed if I don’t think Tommy Power is as good as any of them.” Charles Napier M'Murdo, who announces himself as a herald of tho Australian Mutual Life Association, evidently has an eye to business. This is how he shoves himself through the pathless wilderness as it were, “ The first sign of civilisation in any district, and promise of future welfare, is the arrival of a Life Insurance Agent.” Judge Moles worth, of Victoria I had the honor of meeting myself at this hotel. I expect he has got talent, but ho aint what I should call a gonial bird. Ho did not. as Mr Swivellor says, “ kindle the fire of soul at the taper of conviviality.” Tho only remark I heard him make was “ More chop ” Another gentleman who represents himself as “ travelling with a clergyman,” posts up his condition as thus—“ Arrived, broken down badly. Revived spiritually and spiritiously.” The parson gives his impressions very frankly. “Arrived hero very hungry and very much out of temper, but after a good nip (the italics are those of his reverence), and a square meal found that Virtue is his own report.” “ Virtue ” was the writer’s name. I could quote a heap more funny things from this amusing book, but enough has been said to prove that some droll people have slept in the Cass Hotel.