Entre Nous

Free Lance, Volume I, Issue 38, 23 March 1901, Page 12

Entre Nous

ALL honour to Mr. Philip Nathan, for so bravely risking life and limb out at Miramar last week to save a little mite of a child from almost inevitable death. The polo match between New Zealand and Victoria was in full swing. Unnoticed by the crowd of spectators, a wee, toddling girl had made her way on to the field of play. Suddenly, a turn in the game brought the polo ponies in a furious gallop straight for the point where the unconscious child had strayed A shiver went through the crowd. Then a man's figure leaped from a carnage, fifteen yards away, and, at top speed raced for that pathetic little figure' standin" so helplessly in the way of those rushing ponies. He was just, m time to crouch over the child and protect it with his body as the hoofs went over and past. • * * . One pony, with remarkable intelligence, rose in the air, and cleared the crouching figures of man and child at a lofty bound, while the ruck swept closely past, leaving them unscathed. The man who took all the chances to save the child was Mr. Phihp Nathan, of the firm of Joseph Nathan and Go. It was a gallant feat, and showed both rare pluck and great presence of mind. It is said that Mr. Nathan took lessons in athletics from Sandow, in London, and the speed with which he leaped from that carriage and reached the youngster showed that he is not out or form yet. # Inspectors of one kind and another are as plentiful in New Zealand as promises at election time. But surely it is not too much to insist that all such officials should have some badge or certificate of authority ? It has frequently happened that persons purporting to be authorised have visited houses solely for the furtherance of evil designs. Now, that fire inspectors are being appointed, who may require to inspect the interior of private, as well as other houses, the need of a distinguishing badge for these inspectors grows more urgent than ever. A case in point was brought under our notice this week. A rough-looking customer presented himself at a certain house on the Terrace during the forenoon, and demanded admittance to "have a look at the fire appliances." There happened to be a grown-up son on the pre-

mises, and when he was heard coming down the stairs the bogus inspector took himself off the premises with a celerity that would have excited the admiration even of De Wet, the Flying Dutchman. And, as he went, he muttered something about a forgotten engagement and returning again. • • • Tt was reported by the Mayor the other day that a request for books or papers referring to Wellington had been received fiom the authorities of the New York Public Library. The Lance has not heard what material the Mayor sent back in reply to the _ request, but there is reason to belie\e a fine opportunity was missed of securing for Wellington a regular gilt-edged advertisement all for nothing. Although our Empire City has passed its jubilee year, it has no printed history or even a brochure which would inform visitors and the outside world of its life, commerce, attractions, and resorts. # Wl even little New Plymouth is miles ahead of Wellington in this respect, for it has had the enterprise to issue a guide book, after the fashion adopted by English and American towns tvhich desire to attract the tourist. Here is a chance for Mayor Aitken to immortalise himself easily. Let him order the compilation of an attractive book entitled "Winsome (without the "d," please) Wellington, Wide, Wild, Wondrous." Really, it is astonishing, in view of the reputation w e have won for "blowing," that we can not raise the feeblest puff about ourselves. * • • A certain Bishop, very well known in these parts, will admit that it is a perfectly true bill. One Sunday morning, not long since., he preached in one of our backblocks to a very small congregation, and when the plate was handed round he contributed a sovereign. While in the vestry, he inquired of the churchwarden what sort of a collection there had been. "Better than usual," was the reply. "Ten and sixpence ha'penny and a few odds and ends. There is also a sovereign, but that, of course, must be a bogus one." "Perhaps, not," suggested the Bishop, with a smile. "Oh, yes, it is," insisted the churchwarden, "no one in our congregation would give a genuine sovereign. I'll just take it home for my little ones to play with." So the Bishop pocketed his modesty, and confessed that some acquaintance with this particular golden coin enabled him to vouch for its genuineness. The "Bruce Herald" had a taste of life's little ironies the other day, when a frugal subscriber sent a notice to stop his paper. He added a P.S. to the effect that it was no longer necessary for him to buy a 8.H., because he found it was filed in the Milton read-ing-room. "And we give that copy of our paper gratis to the reading-room !" pathetically adds the editor.

One of Rudyard Kipling's early successes was the love story of "The Gadsbys." One of Mr. Justice Cooper's early tasks on the bench here in Wellington (it came off last week) was to deal with quite a different phase of

the love story of 'The Gadsbys." It was styled in the dry-as-dust formula of the law, Gadsby v. Gadsby and Another, and the suit was divorce. Love stories do occasionally end that way. » • • It is being told at the expense o£ a prominent individual in Wellington, who is jvist about as well known as the town clock. A photograph was recently taken of a certain coterie to which he belongs, and the artist brought along the picture on a particular evening mutually agreed upon. There was a full attendance, and the shield of portraits received warm compliments from all the critics-nsave one. That was the personage of prominence. He laid a fat finger upon the counterfeit presentment of his own proboscis, aud, "I don't, at all like the nose," he said. "Neither do I," replied the camera man promptly, "but it's yours, all right." • • • Messrs. Harcourt and Co. have lost the services of a really first-class man in Mr. J. G. Falder, who, for some years, has conducted their extensive house-agency business. He had as many as 280 tenants to look after, and both landlords and tenants felt it was quite a pleasure to have so attentive and obliging an intermediary to consult witn. Mr. Falder leaves Wellington to take up a more lucrative position on the staff of a Dunedin firm. In Petone, where he has resided for years, and where he was ever ready to lend his assistance in promoting local institutions, his departure is the cause of deep regret. In severing his connection with Harcourt's, complimentary presentations were made to nim, both by the principals of the firm and the employes. • • • The Wellington Mayors usually work well in harness, but, so far, none of them have had a chance of showing their paces with a mayoral collar on. In smaller places, like Auckland and Chrictchurch, they are quite collarproud. Down in the Cathedral City it is the custom for each retiring mayor to place a gold link of honour on that mayoral collar. Mr. W. Recce has just added his link, and, in the centre of it, there is a large diamond, engraved with his name. There is time for Mayor Aitken to open the Wellington links, if only some one will be good enough to donate a decent-looking, large-sized collar.

The contingent of troopers at present occuying Newtown Park are such a quiet lot that might well be termed the Serene Seventh. But the surface of their serenity has occasionally Deen disturbed, and one of these incidents, which made for some laughter, occurred last week. Strict injunctions had been given to the sentries that no one without a permit was to be allowed to leave camp at night. The commander of the camp forgot his own orders one night, and, 'tis said, the sentry point blank refused to take his word for it that he was the man he said he was, and so the "Scarlet Runner," as they call him behind his back, had to retire and write himself out a permit. • • • A few nights later, Lieutenant X.Y. Z., who had been at the front, and "put on airs acording," sauntered down towards the northern gate in a "I-pos-sess-the-earth" swagger. As he drew near the guard-tent, he saw the sentry standing with his body outside, and his head inside, the canvas. The sentry was making a report to the sergeant, but he was on guard quickly enough to stop the subaltern. "Who goes there?" was the challenge. "Oh, it's only me," was the reply. "Who goes there?" came the word again. "Oh, stop that! I'm X.Y.Z., and am going out." "You can't go out," said the sentry. "Rubbish," retorted the sub., "Fm.X.Y.Z. and you can't stop me!" For the third time the challenge came, "Who goes there?" And, as the subaltern didn't seem to take . the matter seriously the sentry astonished him by calling, "Guard, turn out!" Then X.Y.Z. was done, and had to clear the matter up. • • • Town talk has it that Messrs. Levin and Co. are to flit out of their present humble-looking domicile behind the Post Office into an up-to-date warehouse, which is to be constructed alongside (to the north) of Turnbull and Company's. The firm of Levin and Co. is one of the oldest business houses of the Empire City, and its beginning dates away back into those da~s when the waters of "Po-ne-ke" laved the place now called Lambton-quay, and Pipitea Point was in very truth the place of pipis. Old Nathaniel Levin, who founded the house, is still a resident on this footstool, but took himself and his wealth to London in the long-ago. There he has his establishment and his butlers, his flunkeys, and his everyall. And now, the widow of his successor in the business also seeks the same busy retreat. • • • The first store and offices of Levin's was located upon Lambton-quay, about opposite the main door through which folks now enter the "Big Buildings."

lii those first days — that was along in me latter end or the sixties — the sea came right up almost to the door, and goods had to be conveyed out to the ooats in carts w lien the tide was low . iNachaniei Levin then took olt his coat ana lolled ut> his sleeves, and he was prospering in lttol, when he employ ea uo men and two carts. Then, i*lr. i'harazyn — he who is now upon the verge ot a century of years ot life — glow and spread its trading interests joined the ousiness, which began to into the newly-opened country. Later on, Vv . H. Levin, one ot the best ot masters and most popular and publicspirited 01 citizens, was admitted into partnership, by Levin pere, who gradually dropped out as his son proved a worthy successor. • * • Years brought younger blood and fresh coin into the concern, which flourished all the way down its history. Mr. Pharazyn dropped out, and Walter Johnston came in. The fortune which the business brought him in the course ol years enabled Mr. Johnston to retire from city life, and devote himself to farming pursuits. Then came the entrance of Mr. Pearce, and Captain Duncan (now head of the firm) gained admission as a junior partner. The death of Mr. W. H. Levin robbed the hrm of a wise leader, and the employees of a considerate master — but in no way stopped the successful progress of one of our historical business houses. • • • The usher of the Supreme Court at Christchurch (Mr. E. W. Seager) tells of a peculiar coincidence in his experience. He wanted subscriptions to accomplish the purchase of a coat-of-arms, to be placed above the judge's chair in the court-room. The total cost came to £11 15s, and each subscribing lawyer had to contribute his six-and-eightpence exactly ! • • • A party of Wellington matrons were dissipating in afternoon tea, and discussing the perpetual servant-girl question the other afternoon. They were agreed that "things had come to a terrible pass" when Mary Jane was allowed to dictate her own terms, and fix her own wages. One lady said that at Christmas time she had two good servants, but one of them left to get married, and the other left to go home to assist in trousseau-making for a sister who was going to marry. "And since," added the complainant, sadly, "all I could get to take their places was a lady-help, and I have to treat her like an honoured guest. She suffers from rheumatics, and always I must consider her, whilst sometimes even I have to wait upon her!" The rest of the tea-party nodded sympathetically, and went on to wonder what the erirl- world is coming to.

It is the latest J.P. story, and one of the queerest. A battered wreck of humanity was brought up not long since for vagrancy in a certain town A\itliin easy reach of Wellington, and it chanced that his stepson and another Justice occupied the bench. The face of the "Had-seen-better-days" individual lit up when he surveyed the Wench. But his fond hopes of release were speedily quenched. The stepson, remembering how his mother's heart had been broken, and their home rendered miserable, talked to the delinquent like a Dutch uncle, and wound up by Hying his step-papa two months. *- *- ±- ■ • • A fistic battle, which took place last week, not far away from Wellington, is said to be the result of the Contingent craze. Two middle-aged citizens of good repute, "The Lily of the Valley," and "The One-eyed Gunner, were both seized with the desire to win martial glory in South Africa. They both applied for captain's commissions, and were both rejected (just think of it); so they repaired to the local domain, and, having nobody else to fight, they fought each other. Much gore was spilt, and, strange to say, "the Lily" proved too touch for "the Gunner." A visiting medico, from Wellington, patched up the combatants, and assisted in arranging terms of peace. Since then, a private cable has been received reporting that the rejected warriors have changed their military views, and are now pro-Boers. Perhaps, De Wet has a few captains' commissions vacant. • • • They were a middle-aged couple, and had been "keeping company" in Wellington in a friendly, casual sort of way for some time. In fact, their friends took it for granted they were steering for matrimony. After two years the bride-expectant got tired of waiting for the popping of the question, and suddenly cooled off. He froze, too, and transferred his chilled affections to a widow with a healthy bank account. The friends of the discarded one persuaded her to threaten a suit to recover heavy damages for breach of promise. She did so, but mentioned incidentally the matter might be settled out of Court if the consideration reached a satisfactory figure. • • • This inspired the threatened individual with a notion, which he lost no time in putting into operation. He called upon the lady, at her lodgings, accompanied by two (alleged) detectives — sworn in for the occasion by himself — and, after making a ereat scene, threatened to have her arrested on a charge of attempted blackmail. The woman cried hysterically, and eventually signed a paper declaring

that no engagement had ever existed between thm. Then the trio departed, mightily pleased with their evening's work. If these circumstances are correct, and the lady cares to follow up the aftair, there's trouble ahead for that 'cute middle-aged lover and his bogus detectives. • • • Interest in shooting circles is just now centred in the Wanganui meeting of the New Zealand Rifle Association, which that genial enthusiast, Colonel Sommerville, is managing in his usual style of thoroughness. For the first time in twenty years, Colonel Collins, of Wellington, will be absent. It is said that Miss Lee may come up from the Far South to have a shot at the targets. She is a Port Chalmers crack, a prominent member of the P.C. Ladies' Rifle Club, and entered for every one of the matches on the Otago Rifle Association's programme. If she gets on the Otagan targets successfully, Miss Lee will, without doubt, journey to Wanganui. • • • Mr. Danvers Hamber, who has just resigned the editorship of the "Sporting Review " to join the literary staff of the Christchurch "Press," passed through Wellington on Wednesday last. Under his pseudonym ,of "Petronel," Mr. Hamber has won considerable repute as a sporting writer. So successful have been his racing tips during the past season, that it is calculated if anyone had put £1 on every horse he tipped the investor would have come through about £80 to the good. Mr. Hamber may almost be said to have been cradled on the press — not the Christchurch one, of course. His father was, for seventeen years, editor of the London "Standard." We wish "Petronel" abounding success in the Cathedral City. That he will be popular goes without saying. • • • A rather amusing story reaches us from a reliable source. It is quite local. A certain married couple, pretty well known, have been living together on rather strained terms for some time past. It appears that the husband some time ago conceived the idea that his wife would poison him for the sake of the insurance money. However that may be, he became pretty positive about it at dinner the other day. After drinking half a cup of tea at a draught, he spluttered, swore that he had been poisoned, and rushed into a neighbour's, where he caused a great commotion. They gave him mustard and water and other emetics, and were about to send for the doctor, when the wife explained that the silly fool had poured tea into a cup containing Epsom salts, which she was about to give one of the children. That was all. He is feeling rather sheepish about the affair just now. • • • It happened at Newtown one night this week. Mrs. Brown-Jones had been called out in a hurry to attend a near relative, who was alarmingly ill. Mr. Brown-Jones was wrestling with the evening paper at the time, and he was told the youngsters might stay up till their mother's return, as they were holding a birthday party. When Mrs. Brown-Jones got back to the domestic establishment, a couple of hours later, her worser half had dropped the paper, and, with, ink on his hngers, was wrestling with a letter to the editor over the state of affairs in China. Not a youngster was in sight. "Algernon, what is this?" she said. "Whatever made you pack all the children to bed?" "They disturbed me in my writing, dear," said Algy. "And did they go to bed quietly?" "No, that one in the corner kicked up a row, and souealed when I undressed him." Mrs. Brown- Jones looked gt the one in the corner. "Good heavens, Algernon, what have you done? Don't you see this is little Freddy Robinson, from next door." Then Algy went outside, and wept.