Wellington Whatnot

Maoriland Worker, Volume 3, Issue 86, 1 November 1912, Page 5

Wellington Whatnot

FROM THE HILL-TOPS.

THE ADELPHI MEETING

I climbed a height last week early in iihe morning and watched the great pool* of dead iires that only dream's the l waves and tides of wider ocean, and sometimes heaves for very rest. A haze of amber blue and carmine rose, and urea tiled and draped a bended shape, and I marked with interest a woman's figure, god-like in grace and size. On the hem of her garment strange devices in bright obtrusive colors, here and there a sprig of green. I had just time to think of Ophelia when a white hand went up and gathered back the veiling fold on fold. I remembered enough of my manners to keep my mouth wide open, as sho said in charming conventional English: "I am the Lady Suprema."

I suppose t3ie difference in size saved mc from an unfavorable impression, for she took mc into her confidence with a vast graciousness, and passiog her two spread-finger, turndown , palms over the panels of her drapery with a flat descriptive motion : "The children you know," said she. I only goggled my eyes and swallowed hard. So she put out a perfect fore arm and tapped the Town Hall roof. "The big children, don't you know. They have been making mc beautiful."

Then the town-planner rose within mc, aaid I well-nigh reached her chin. She gave mc one owl-eyed glance, one glimpse of rosy brow and shining breast "'id drew the hood of vapors down, lown into the glistening pool. There was nothing left- but a sick man averting his face from the hideous town to meet with old eyes the future that is so dark and unknown.

Vapors, you will say. If Bob Semple had not heard the banshee and got talking about the past that is blood and tears, aye, and th© long shame of out consenting and of that futurewell, our reporter would not be miauling half way down a column. , But you rant chronicle small beer all the while. I could not help thinking at Sunday week's fine meeting how little we give such men as Semple, Webb, Dowgray and othefs, chief servants of our cause, whom we send forth to cast the seed of fate into the dark and fruitful stretches of fche future. How many will press forward to their side if the seed should come up in full ears and the harvest be at hand.

Let us give them a good name. In the bush grows many a tree as green and glorious ac the laurel.

This meeting at tho Empress on Sunday week was crowded, and Mts. Martin's singing and the performance by the Socialist orchestra made a good foil to the oratory of the real Reds. Tho collection for the strikers realised £18.

Operirair meetings were held on Saturday and Sunday afternoon, also the usual function f, which were well attended.—S. FOURNIER.