Entre Nous

Free Lance, Volume I, Issue 44, 4 May 1901, Page 12

Entre Nous

THE story is vouched for by a local mci chant, who returned tins week from a business trip to tho South His cabin companion was an elderly individual, who had been seeing too many spirits before seeking his bunk at night. In the morning the elderly personage just mentioned made the discovery that all his personal apparel was missing — not even his nether garments being in evidence. The stewaid and his start wero summoned to unravel the mystery. li.yen the captain's services had to be invoked. "Where did you put your clothes last night 9" asked the &kisper. A sudden gleam of intelligence lit up the eyes of the pyjamaclad passenger. "Why. of course, I remember now ," he said. "Before turning in I put them all into that little cupboard yonder." That solved the problem at once. "Great goodness, man!" roared the captain, "you've booked them this time, that's certain. That little cupboard, as you call it, is the porthole, and you've poked your toggery to 'the bottom of the sea.' " * * * A well-known citizen, who is closely identified with the teetotal movement, was a traveller from Palmerston to Wellington recently, and noticed that one of the passengers who got in at a wayside station was unmistakably under the influence of drink. They drifted into conversation later on, and the temperance man improved the occasion by delivering an impressive homily on the awfulness of the great drink curse. * • • The bibulous one seemed to be greatly struck with the reasonableness of the arguments advanced, and promised to 'go slow" in future. They parted in the cru&h at Wellington station, and it was not until he got home that the well-meaning citizen discovered that his twenty-guinea watch had disappeared. Judging from the description of the quondam fellow-traveller, it is believed that the latter is one of the clever gang who have been clearing out Dunedinites lately, and that his drunkenness was only reigned, the object being, of course, loot.

A stern, unbending parent is responsible for the failure of a nice little plan, which, if carried into effect, would have produced a stir in certain Wellington circles. The originators of the scheme were three young ladies, who do not stand in awe of the conventionalities. Be this as it may, the fact has leaked out that they proposed to hold, during the coming season, a dance of a somewhat novel character. It was to bo managed entirely by themselves, and the mere men were to be invited as guests in every sense of the term. * * * Indeed, the matter had gone so far as to arrange the details. The funseeking damsels were to usurp, for the time being, all the prerogatives usually claimed by the sterner sex. Each girl who attended would invite a young man, would escort him to the hall, obtain her own partners by asking — in tact, do everything which is customarily the man's perquisite. One vivacious maid wanted to go as far as to arrange that the hostesses should see their guests home, but the prospects of a lonely walk— or run, as it would probably have been — to their own homes in the wee sma' hours was not sufficiently inviting to earn much support for the proposition. However, the whole thing was knocked on the head. The mother of one of the "promoters" got an inkling of the plans, and lost no time in joining issue with the other "stern parents" to put on the brake. But what a time the Johnnies have missed! * * * Dear Lance. — I read with feelings of intense satisfaction the ventilation and publicity you chivalrously afforded the Mangatoro case in your issue of to-day. There is> certainly great injustice hidden in this case, the sole brunt of which is borne by Mr. Hamilton, and I consider you are fulfilling one of the highest aims of the press in turning the attention of the public in this direction, and, in the words of the poetaster, taking up a brief ' For the rights that lack assistance, For the wrongs that need resistance," etc. Mr. Hamilton was ever a true friend to the settler, and a most generous employer of labour. He has, to my knowledge, done more for the true progress of his district than any other man in it, ample verification of which can be furnished by the early residents of Dannevirke and the neighbourhood. Though directly opposed to Mr. Hamilton in politics, I am, with yourselves, a staunch believer in even-handed justice, and feel certain that the success of your organ will in no way suffer for bringing this matter forward from time to time. — Yours, etc., G. Hamilton Grapes, Paraparaumu. P.S. — Mr. Hamilton is in no way connected with me, directly or indirectly. — April 27th.

Much merriment down South over a Dunedin gentleman, who jumped to his conclusions, and came a regular cropper. The fact that he is himself an inveterate practical joker makes his discomfiture all the more laughable. He entered a leading drapery establishment, expecting to find his wife, by appointment, at a particular counter. Sure enough, there stood a lady, dressed, to his eye at least, just like the woman he was after. Her back was turned, and no one was near her ; so ne quietly approached, took her by the arm, and said, in a tone of pretended severity . "Well, here you are, spending my money as usual, eh?" The face turned quickly towards him was not his wife's. It was that of an acrid, angry, hatchet-faced woman of about fifty years, who proceeded to pour the vials of her wrath upon his devoted head. "No, I ain't spending your money, or any other man's money ; and I'll " 'I beg your pardon, madam," cried the confused gentleman; "I supposed you were my wife, and " "Well, I just ain't your wife, nor no other man's wife, thank fortune, to be jawed at every time I buy a yard of ribbon." He waited to> hear no more. He made a regular bolt for the street, and he has been hearing all about it, with variations, ever since. + # * The good old roaring days of the gold rush were recalled the other day on the Dunstan by the finding of a skull. There was 2nothing special about this relic, except that it had such a crack across it as might have been made by a blow from a pickaxe, but all round the skull in its burial placo was a circle of whisky bottles! They were empty, of cour&e, but what a wild tangi there must have been there. • • • Mr. Pownall, the newly re-elected Mayor of Masterton, contributed his share to the stock of local gaiety during the recent election. His final address to the electors was studded with points — it is to be hoped the mayoral chair won't be. Still, there is room note of pathos was in the candidate's voice as he made the appeal. "I ask for doubts even on that head, for the you to put me back for another twelve months in that chair, which I have nearly worn the bottom out of." • • • In Ins address after election, Mr. Pownall said it would be a long time before he again contested the municipality, but he would, probably, at a future date, offer himself for Parliamentary honours. He trusted that he would receive the same support then as he had that day. "Yes," interrupted a person in the assemblage, "when Mr. Hogg is dead." "Oh, no," replied the re-elected Mayor, "when Mr. Hogg is called to the Legislative Council, or is Governor of New Zealand ; allow me to put it that way." And they loudly applauded him for putting it that way.

A party of seamen were holding a heated argument in Willis-street last week upon a subject far removed from municipal politics. To them came an elevated individual, who smelt of something stronger than the briny. "Say, boys," he remarked to the group, "you're tars, ain't you?" "We are." "And deep-sea 'uns?" "Yes." "Well, now, can you tell me what was the best light you saw in the English Channel?" The whole of the party started in to show their knowledge of the Channel and its lights, ticking the latter off one by one on the fingers, and arguing over line merits of the different lighthouses." The querist declared against every light quoted, and, when asked to name his "bloomin', wonderful, bally light," he shouted— "Daylight!" and tacked to starboard to dodge the consequences. * * • The very latest dog story is one that was told the other day in the commercial room of Harry Price's Albert Hotel by a well-known boarder. "Smart?" said the man who was telling it, and who also owned the dog ; "well, I would say so. I was going out with him yesterday, and I stopped and said, 'Towser, we have forgotten something!' And bothered if he did not sit down and scratch his head to see ifi he could think what it was!" * * # An "Old Veteran" asks leave of us to make his voice heard. Thus he speaks : — -"It is with extreme pleasure, unalloyed by a particle of envy, that one reads of our gallant returned troopers from the Transvaal being absorbed in the Government service. But what of those chivalrous veterans who fought for the lives, hearths, and homes of our early colonists, and lost their all in so doing, without any recompense whatever? Should they not also be considered, when they only received barren thanks- — a very cheap commodity, indeed — for their brave conduct and unselfish loyalty? Cannot something be found suitable for them to do, to support themselves in their declining years ?" * • • The scene was the Opera House, and the occasion was the performance of Maughan Barnett's "Jubilee Ode," by the Wellington Orchestral Society. The last movement had been safely negotiated, and the audience were overwhelming modest Maughan with their applause, when a powerful aroma of fried sausages from a neighbouring eatinghouse began to assert itself upon the olfactory nerves of the audience. Among that audience were a lady and a gentleman well-known in musical circles. Saith the gentleman, "By Jove, there's no mistaking that scent ; it's the fragrance of fried sausages all right." "Yes," sweetly replied his fair companion, "we've just had the Ode, and now we're being treated to the odour. How appropriate, isn't it?"

The Lance learns that a local firm of lawyers have, for some time past, been engaged on a case in which a resident of this district, after long years of silence, seeks to establish his claim to portion of a big estate at home. From what can»be ascertained, it appears that he cut the painter so far as family associations were concerned when he cleared out to the colonies , and, in order that his people would not be able to trace him, he changed his name ala Sir Roger Tichborne. He prospered, but of late he has been signally unfortunate, and, as he is now getting on in years, and there are signs of a cheerless, poverty-stricken old age, ho has revealed his identity, and his lawyers are now seeking to establish it, and reclaim the inheritance to which he is entitled. ♦ • • The address of a Christchuroh girl, who disappeared rather mysteriously a short time back, has been located in a Sydney suburb. Family dissensions led the dark-complexioned Venus to unloosen the shackles that bound her, and steer for another clime, although possessing very little money. It did not take very long for her to determine what to do. She stowed away on a passenger boat, which left Wellington direct, and next day, "when the sun was shining clearly," she "bobbed up serenely," yea "bobbed up serenely — from below " She artlessly told the officer who collects the tram fares to send the bill to her father, who would gladly pay to be rid of her. Passengers, however, subscribed the necessary amount, and a benevolent old parson, who was on board, attracted by the story of her home life and her apparent natural ability, undertook to look after her until she secured suitable employment in Sydney. * * * They have unearthed an economical young man up Te Aro way. He is something in the ribbon and bodkin department of a certain drapery establishment, and he invited one of the young ladies from the millinery branch to accompany him to see "The Ticket of Laeve Man," at the Opera House, the other night. She simply swam in air as, pattering by his side along the street, she conjured up visions of the envy of the other girls, upon whom she would gaze nonchalantly from the gorgeous ease of a padded and upholstered seat in the dress-circle. But her aerial swim was short. Arrived at the portals to the theatre, that economical young man steered straight for the crowd round the "stalls" ticket box, and, in a voice reminiscent of bargain sales, he remarked, "You'd better get your bob ready ; there's going to be a crush!"

He is a rich bachelor, owner of rolling f)lains and many flocks and herds, and le was the other day driving a fascinating widow over a portion of his estate. "This is a splendid property, and you have everything you want , you ought to be very happy," she quietly remarked. "Oh, yes, I'm happy enough, but there are lots of worry, and there's only one thing that would complete mv happiness," he replied. "What is that?" asked his companion, archly, glancing at him sideways, and evidently expecting a proposal. "A good offer from the Government to buy the whole show," w as the unexpected answer. * » « The Bikist to his Bike. My beautiful, my beautiful, that standest meekly by, With proudly arched and glossy frame, and chain geared so high, Fret not to roam around "the rocks" with all thy pedall'd speed ' I may not scorch on thee again — thou'rt pawned, my silent steed. Farewell, those fat pneumatic wheels full many a mile have spun, To back beside the club-house bar or do a century run ; Some other hand less skilled than mine must pump thee up with air ; The patent lamp that won't stay lit must be another's care. Only in sleep shall I behold myself with bended back — Only in sleep shall thee and I avoid the tramway track ; And when I drive the pedals down to check of cheer thy speed, Then must I, starting, wake to learn thou'rt pawned, my silent steed. Whoi said that I had given thee up? Who said that thou were lost? "Tis false, 'tis false, my silent steed! I fling them fine and cost! Thus — thus I leap upon thy back, and ride thee down the trail! Away, my bright and beautiful! I've pawned my watch for bail. • • • According to London "Sphere," the adoption of the penny post has resulted in the extension of an old sphere of labour. A lady correspondent avers that she has received a number of begging letters from Wellington, and attributes their receipt to her name being reduced to a "brownie." The lady unfortunately does not say for what object money was asked — whether for charitable purposes or for the refreshment of the purse of some unscrupulous adventurer ; but she remarks that others have no doubt received similar Jetters. Now, what needy Wellingtonians have been trying this old dodge on London's gilded aristocracy ?

A striking example of the methods occasionally adopted by the police in this colony in the unravelling of mysteries has just cropped up in Christchurch. An ex-journalist, whose position in the social scale is not what it was, while breakfasting at the home of his employer one morning, was rudely interrupted by two detectives. The brilliant officials made no secret of their mission, and, in front of the household, declared that they "wanted" the expressman in connection with the daring robbery of a woman a few night previously. * * * His belongings, as well as those of other people, were unceremoniously searched, but nothing suspicious was found. All protestations were unavailing, and the man had to accompany the officers of the law some little distance to the house where the lady who had been robbed lived — "for the purpose of identification." Their method of what they were pleased to call identification was a scandalous one. The unfortunate suspect was not placed with a number of other men. Oh dear, no ; that would have meant too much trouble. So he was confronted with the woman, who, though twenty yards distant, unhesitatingly said, "That's not the man!" Then he was released. Perhaps he was lucky to get off so easy when he had two such Sherlocks to deal with. * * • One of the actors at present playing in Wellington has a rather good story to tell. It is a chip from recent experience. The company to which he belonged was making a country tour, and, lingering rather long over a modest quencher at one of the smaller way stations, he got hopelessly left. There was no chance of getting away till the next day, and so, when tea was over he decided, after the manner of actors when they have a night "off," to go and see the best show the little onenorse place could afford. * * * After a preliminary stroll round the town and environs, he bore up for the railway, saluted the statzonmaster with becoming deference, and respectfully asked, "Can you tell me, sir, what is on at the theatre to-night?" "The thee-ayter !" slowly rejoined the stationmaster, "why, we ain't got a thee-ayter." "Oh' then I suppose you have some kind of a concert hall?" said the still hopeful actor. "Is there anything good to be seen there?" "Concert 'all! There ain't no concert 'all neither! But I'll tell you what, mister," said the stationmaster, with a broad smile of satisfaction, "there's shuntin' on this here branch line every night at ten o'clock, an' everybody comes down to see that!"

A Wellington young man has just returned from the West Coast with a good story about a doting honeymoon couple, whom he discovered on his travels. They hailed from the Marlborough region, and the Wellingtonian, being known to the happy man, was. of course, duly introduced to the, object of his choice. She was fond and clinging, and also rather demonstrative in her love. And, being painfully shy, the Wellington young man found these demonstrations somewhat embarrassing. • ♦ • For instance, as they conversed on deck, while watching sea and sky. the bride would give a little shiver and exclaim to the happy man, "Put your arm around me, dear; it's so very cold." A httle later, "There's a dear good boy, just go below and bring up my cape." And, just to clinch the situation, and complete the satisfaction of the admiring passengers, "Kiss me, lovey ; kiss me quick" which Lovey obediently did. But "Kiss me, lovey," was the predominant "gag" with all on board for the rest of the voyage. And even now, whenever those passengers meet, it is still a case of "Kiss me, lovey ; kiss ne quick." • • • A Thorndon lady, who is given to looking on the humorous side of things, tells a little domestic tale, in which she herself played a leading part. Her somewhat conceited husband, who is something of a lady's man, or fancies he is, and endeavours now and again to make his pretty wife jealous, received a letter at meal time the other day. r r j scannin q the few brief words of endearment — for they were such contained therein, he hastily and furtively crammed the missive in his pocket. His better half asked what it was all about, but he refused to say, and, later on, when he was placing it xn his pocket-book, the determined woman snatched it out of his hands. • * * There was a scufflle, but she succeeded in tearing the envelope open, and therein disclosed a lock of hair. There was no signature to the note, and wifey wildly wanted to know who the lovelock belonged to, and why he should carry on like that with other women. The unfortunate hubby fled the house, and for two days his wife enjoyed his discomfiture. And, no wonder! She had posted that little tress —her own — to him herself, and since she smilingly told him about her little joke he has been looking as dull as a dead policeman in a wet macintosh.