Men, Women & Things.

Gisborne Standard and Cook County Gazette, Volume I, Issue 13, 9 July 1887, Page 2

Men, Women & Things.

“ A mad world, my masters.”— Old Play. "Let’s talk absat the iVbather;” bay the M&jOf 08iiSfill's daughters id tile Firates of FenzahMi fey all riieahS. And what queer leather we have Had this Winter in Gisborne 1 Weeks of rain; endless pitiless rain, and now a little frosty and flue weather. The Lord and Captain Edwin be thanked for all their mercies, I don’t despair of seeing clouds of dust again down Gladstone Road, but like “the sweet bye and bye" its a long time coming. Talking about Gladstone Road, for goodness sake and that of the ratepayers, do please Mr Mayor and Messrs Councillors do something to our main thoroughfare. Pave it with] wood, asphalts, granite, old stone from the Loan and Mercantile building, dynailfile, anything you like ; but do give it a good doing up and dressing down before next winter,

War to the knife say the Atkinsenians. War to the knife say the fetddtites. “ A plague dii both jjoiir houses,” say I. To elect men to the House is as easy as ehelling peas; to get good men is as difficult as to get a bad bill discounted in Gisborne. The country is tired out ot pettyfogging political squabbling, of Vogel’s voraciousness, Stout’s snobbery, Atkinson’s aoriiaony, slid Ballance's butter. "Hands all round" sings Tennyson," hands all round" say I for a new lot of men. Give the young men a chance, the old hands are played out. They go up to Wellington, liquor up at Bellamy’s, mash the girls down the Quay, drink whisky at the Empire and the Occidental, talk claptrap to their constituents through Hansard, and generally play the deuce With the colony, and here we have them again all round the country, prating of their past services and disinterested Zeal. " Get out of that ” should be the country’s cry to the old played out, parliamentary fossils; but the trouble is that they won’t 11 get.”

That was an amusing meeting the other night—the Library Committee meeting. The Committee were there, and the reporters and the Librarian; but the public—oh, my children, the public, where were they ’? Some half dozen men and youths read the papers in supreme in difference to what was going on, but the public was non est. Are they satisfied with the library management, or are they lamentably careless as to the welfare of the institution 1 As one member of the Committee remarked, the iitenlbers Of the leading local bodies don’t seem to care a dump whatever about the library. This seems a great pity.

“ Give attendance unto reading ” said St. Paul, and his advice is worth following. The library has only 109 subscribers, it ought to have double that, Those who are on the Committee attend the meetings, move this and that and the other, bitt the general public seem to take about as much interest in the place as a Maori does in the Bulgarian question. What’s the good of growling about a poor supply of books when you don’t make any attempt to support the institution. I do hope that next year will witness a lively increase in the library's membership and popularity. It rests solely with the subscribers to rake in all their friends and make them join.

About that change of name. Blow Victoria Bay to begin with. It means nothing and stops the way. Can you suggest anything better ? Why certainly, as the Yankees say. Here are a few suggestions: Cook’s Bay, Gisborne Bay; Poor Beggar's Bay, Pale Brandy Bay, Barristers’ Bay, Bankrupts’ Bay, Blatherskites’ Bay, Builyrag’s Bay, Breakwater Bay, Mudtown Bay. Suggested by Mr Locke, Locke’s Bay; suggested by Mr Gannon, Gannon’s Bay; suggested by Mr McDonald, Mac's Bay. " Yer pays yer money and yer takes yer choice.”

When a newspaper speaks out its mind it is worth reading, whether one agrSes with it or not. But surely the Auckland Bell trespasses a little too far on journalistic license when it calls ths critics of Ballance's special settlements " damned scoundrels " (verbatim et literatim). Men don’t growl at the village settlements, far from it my tintanabulating friend, but it is the spending of £60,000 of public money on the scheme when Ballance was only authorised to spend three thou, that's the trouble, and one is an anathematized thingumbob because one objects to that. Well lam quite willing to oome under the Bell’s damnatory clause. But what G. M. Beed, a clever journalist and sensible man, means by serving out such gruel as d d s——a to his readers is what no "fellah can understand.” Calling people names will never do a cause good, and G.M.R. ought to know it as well as anyone.

The two ostrich eggs in Messrs Berry, Daniel & Co’s window have attracted a good deal of attention during the week. Whilst looking over some Australian papers last night I came across a report of the South Australian Ostrich Company. At Port Augusta I see the Company has 415 birds of various ages, all healthy. I also notice the assets of the Company were £16.454 14s and the liabilities £6131 10a lOd, The feathers sell well, and the fact has been proved beyond doubt that the industry is a remunerative one. From the Cape Government’s annual returns I see the price of the feathers averages about £3O per lb. What a fine time we should have if we could get that price for our wool. Over 247,0001bs of feathers were exported from the Cape Colony in 1884 so that it may easily be seen what a valuable industry ostrich farming is.

By a recent issue of the London Daily News I see the Westminster Magistrates have drawn the attention of the Government to the fact that numbers of Italian children are annually imported into England for the purposes of begging. This mention of Italian children recalls an old story from Punch a year or two ago. Scene, the cold streets of London; three Italian girls 17 or 18 years of age are playing the harp and fiddle before a public house. Touched by their apparently wretched condition a British paterfamilias stops and gives one a bob accompanying it by some terribly bad Italian. Judge his astonishment when the picturesquely attired eontadini replies “ Me the Lord bless yer honour; sure tis the first white un we've seen this blessed day. Biddy me darlint let’s move on to the next strate.” Half the so ealledj “Eyetalians” who play the organ and the harp in the streets of London hail from the Emerald Isle.

At Golden Bay (Nelson) the Fourth Estate evidently hold very cynical views as to the necessary qualifications for a parliamentary candidate. Thusly orates the local Argus:— Mr O’fednlffif is a feerfWi demon to badger until he gets What lie wants, and that’s the sort of man we require.” I wodld add, "and that's precisely the sort of man the colony does not require.” It has too many carpet baggers already.

A new chum reading the following par from the Bay of Plenty Times would feel considerably mixed I should think. " A wire was received yesterday from Opolilti by the Judea natives of the death of one of their chiefs named Raspberry, who was one of the attendants of Te Kooti, on his visit to the coast on the religious movemeat that is taking place, and which representatives are attending from all parts.” Whin’s in a name? Not much; but Judea looks very funny and Raspberry funnier. Tne Maoris have some very queer Anglicised names occasionally. Thus up the Wanganui river you can travel from Lindon to Athens, and from Athens to Corinth, and then right away to Jreusalem, and all in a day or two. Approves of nanies a friend points out that the Gisborne branch possesses both “ pork and veal”, Mr Hogg being the manager and Mr Veale the sub. This, however, is not so queer as the firm of Fox and Goose who keep a pawn broking establishment in an East End London street.

The Pall Mall Budget still keeps on its extl'oiriely interesting literary competitions. One of its niost recent and most successful competitions was the selection of the best characters from English fictidn. Several hundreds of replies were read, the following select ion being the result when the votes had all been added up : —The beet gentleman, Colonel Neweonie in The Newcomes” ; best woman, Dinah Morris in " Adand Bede” ; best villain, Count Fosco in "The Woman in White ” : best adventuress, Becky Sharp in" Vanity Fair” ; bast parson, Dr. Primrose in " Vicar of Wakefield ” ; best lawyer, Mr Tulkrnghorn in “ Bleak House best doctor, “ Dr. Thorn ” ; best humorous character, Sam Weller in " Pickwick.”

Nothing is so ridiculous and annoying as the red tape regulations which surround the selection of jurors, be they Supreme Court, ordinary, or Coroner’s. To show how hard the systeni is for some men. One of the gentlemen who has been twice engaged on the inquest on the human leg with boot attached, has to come in all the way from Ormond. Unfortunately for him he happened to be in town on the day upon which the inquest was originally to have been held. He was promptly collared by the police, and came in specially yesterday to attend the adjourned sitting. Judge his disgust when a second adjournment took place and he was told he will have again to come in next week. Why not get town people, and idle ones ? There are unfortunately plenty about.

Touchstone.