NOTES FROM NELSON.

Lyell Times and Central Buller Gazette, Volume VI, Issue 275, 29 May 1886, Page 2

NOTES FROM NELSON.

(from our own correspondent.)

Political.

Sir Julius Vogel has delivered himself of his budget and he has a surplus—on paper. He is also very hopeful, and, as usual, has a lot of projected works set down for the West Coast—also on paper. There has been so much work promised there, with a view of developing the mineral resources of the district, during the past twenty years, that one would think the stale game of ornamenting the estimates with bogus votes was played out; but it seems to be one of those matters of virtue which cannot be departed from in Parliament. However, it is encouraging, and shows that there is a wish on the part of the ministry to keep the West Coast miners in good humor, if only by such sops as this. Anyhow, so far, the ministry have had things all their own way, and there is no indication, at present, of anything lively coming off.

Sporting,

The Queen's birthday races were poorly attended; but those who visited them had a first-class day's sport, and beautiful weather. After all the fuss made about the alleged collusion between the handicapper and Mr T. Harley it did not look very much as if there was a chuck-in for that sportsman's cattle, as not one of his horses ran into a place. I notice that his stud is advertised for sale ; the sporting brewer intends to retire from the turf. I daresay that what between the expense of keeping horses just good enough to lose money on, and getting hauled over the coals into the bargain, is just a trifle disheartening, and I am not at all surprised at his deciding upon giving up so slippery an amusement. The Hunt Club commenced their season's operations last Saturday, and I understand that, what with having a pack of hounds, and some other improvements, that they will probably shape a little more like sportsmen than they did last year. Very good sport can be got through the agency of a drag hunt. I recollect one very unexpected ending to a hunt in a country place down south once. The residents invited the Christchurch huntsman to bring his pack up to their village, and he did so, and a line of country was selected for the run. An Irishman, named Mick O'Hagan, was'

employed to run the scent. Mick hailed from Waterford; and every man I ever knew from that Comity claimed to be in some way connected with the celebrated Marquis of Waterford; either as a relative, a groom, or a stable help. Mick claimed to have been on the most intimate terms with that prince of blackguards, and consequently reckoned he was an authority on all matters pertaining to hounds and hunting, so it came about that lie volunteered his services to drag a shin of beef flavored with aniseed over the selected ground. Mick started about an hour before the huntsman threw off, and, as he had some stiff fences to get threw on foot, he had not long got to the end of his journey when the°dogs took up the running. The end of the run was close by the village pub, and Mick went in there, with the skin at his heels, for a pint. He had got through one, and was just about half through another, when the pack, running true °to the scent, were upon him, and the hungry brutes would not have been long in making a meal of him had not the huntsman, whip, and others arrived and whipped them off. Mick had all tho blow taken out of him by this little contretemps, and rarely referred to tho Marquis afterwards. Commercial. The depression caused by the collapse of the Champion mine, the low price of hops, and the general duleness of trade, has had the effect of causing more than one house to invite their creditors to hear a tale of woe. These re-unions are not very cheerful parties, and sometimes tho vindictive creditor feels called upon to express his disappointment of the credit system. Such a case happened a week or two ago here. It was something in this way:— THE BANKRUPT BOOTMAKER! Webb was bankrupt; Webb had cracked up ; twenty tradesmen went quite rabid, For the eighty pounds odd Webb had gone, and filed his schedule for. There were bakers, there were butchers, also drapers, who felt crabbed ; But the bandy-legged grocer was the maddest of the score! That poor Muggycomb the the saintly should be let in by a cobbler, Was too much for Christian feelings, even in a Methodist! For he is a pious huckster, and he never takes a nobbier; And he never, hardly ever, was by Templar sister kissed. So with plaintive air he questioned, this insolvent cobbler quaking: " What protection business men would 'ave, if such a snob as he, Was allowed to live hon credit, and from hnnctuous saints be taking Goods which providence had given for to stock his grocerie." Thus spake Muggy, and vindictively the others followed, scolding, For the merchandise that better had remained upon their shelves, While the assignee sat smiling, for his bankrupt files were holding Records of the pious Muggy which could answer for themselves. Yes, indeed ! he is a good man, when ho holds forth at a meeting, And such sweet advice he gives us for to lead us on the way Towards the happy golden future, whither all the saints are fleeting; One would hardly think this grocer still had dividends to pay! So it it is, and will be ever, a puzzle and enigma How a Christian grocer often by hii preaching can get off From the payment of his debts, and yet never have a stigma Cast upon his good intentions, or be subject to a scoff. Korari. (Continuation of News, see 4th Page.)