THE WEEK.

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume XIII, Issue 260, 9 November 1878, Page 2

THE WEEK.

Strange to say I have not heard a single lameutation this week over the sudden cessation of Parliamentary news. No one seems to regret in the least that a column of the newspapers is not devoted daily to a record of the proceedings in the Assembly, spiced though the telegrams occasionally were with the abuse hurled by one honorable member at another honorable member — couched of course in strictly Parliamentary language, and not reflecting in the least upon the personal character of the individual assailed, even though such an accusation might be made as that he had dishonorably used his political positiou to produce a plethoric condition of his own purse and those of his friends. By the way, I wonder why it is that anything approaching rowdyism in the House possesses such an attraction for the readers of Parliamentary reports. That it is so I have no doubt whatever, and I firmly believe that the duel between the present and the late Premier was read by a far larger number of people, and with much greater zest than the debates on the Land Tax or Electoral Bills. But I had no intention of moralising in this strain when I took up my pen. At that moment 1 was wondering what the newspapers were going to substitute for the news from the seat of Government of which there has been during the last three months so plentiful a supply. Parliament gone out and big gooseberries not yet come in! It is a dreary look out just at present for the members of the commissariat department of the Press whose duty it 5s to skirmish round for the little crumbs required to fill the gossiping portion of the paper. For the time being, everybody, or, at all events, very many bodies, seem to be just a little bifc crazed on sporting matters, and Caps.. Handicaps, and Sweeps appear to have temporarily taken the place of legislation, recrimination, and taxation, and which horse passed the Judge's box first has been a matter of far deeper interest than whether the Beer Tax Bill passed the second reading. One thing has struck me hi reading the late racing uews from Christchurch more forcibly than auy of the graphic accounts that have reached us from thence of how " the Hook " appeared at one time '• to be involved in hopeless difficulties" and eventually struggled out of them; how one race was by long chalks better than any other ; how the " grand old horse " gamely ran until he put a few thousands into his owner's pocket, and so on. I refer to the ups and down, the changes and chances of the racing man's life. Twenty years ago little Bobby Ray in the Nelson saddling yard was toased on to the horse he was to ride after receiving his latest instructions, and perhaps the promise of a few pounds if he won, from his employer, Henry Redwood, whose name is now familiar as a household word in all sporting circles in the Australasian colonies. Now, after a long experience, and probably passing occasionally through hard times, Mr R. Ray, as this week has shown, has proved the most dangerous rival Mr Redwood has had on the course. The two big events of the Christchurch meeting, and, with the latter of them, a3 rumor has it, £4000, have been placed to the credit of the smart little "jock " who was at one time so well known and was such a favorite on the Nelson course in the palmy days of sporting in this part of the colony. On tha [other hand, his former master has, with one single exception, failed to take a prize. " Here we go up, up, up; Here we go down, down, down." The children's song on the see-saw may sometimes be sung by their elders in reference to the sterner realities of life. " What are the odds about England and Russia going to war?" asked the exeiteable Jones, after reading his paper last night, of the phlegmatic Robinson. « My dear fellow," was the Jatter's reply, " there's one line in the recent uews that makes nie feel perfectly

easy on the matter. That ia, ' Russia's attempt to raise a loan has proved a failure.' " I.eipect that dn the whole Robinson was right, but, if soj a good deal of the honor" and glory of war seems to be snuffed out. We have all of us read the horrible jangling rhyme that is said to have been so popular in the old country during the late war excitement — We don't want to fight; liut; by ttingo i if tve ddj We've got the ships, we've got the men, We've got the mor.ei too! Can it bo true that England's proudest boast in connection with fightiug is contained in the last line of this abominable stanza? F.