Entre Nous

Free Lance, Volume V, Issue 229, 19 November 1904, Page 12

Entre Nous

IF you are English, it would have sui prised you to have walked down to the wharf when the Ooiinthic got in, to hear the language 'as she is spoke" by a variegated crowd of newlyout Britishers. A foreigner would never believe that the various people were speaking the same language . Such a variety of dialects can only be heard on a colonial wharf. But, what we really want to say is that there weie two or three London young mem who came by that boat. They were "got up" regardless in riding di ess of a very horsey type. It seems that the aveiage Londoner believes we live on horseback, and that they will be distinctly out of it if they don't wear a dress that no one ever thinks of wearing here - But the kernel of the story is that these fearfully horsey young men, — their pants had probably never seen pigskin — were asked by a well-to-do Wellingtonian, who intended "doing the honours," to come for a ride. He would supply the horses We hear that a look of blank dismay swept over the faces of the horsey men, and that they ultimately confided to the Wellingtonian that they had donned riding garb "so as not to be conspicuous in Wellington" ! They had never ridden a gee-gee in their lives. * * * The word of an M.H.R. ! At Kincaid Downs the people wanted a school, but it seemed! the authorities doubted if the figures showing the number of ohildren in the district were correct. Mr. Hardy, M.H.R. , indignantly remarked that, as he had stood sponsor to all the children in the district, he knew they were there. Of course, the Downs will get its school . • • • What have the Island Bay people, and would-be travellers to that suburb, done to incur the displeasure of the City Council? On King's Birthday everybody but those who wished to go go to Island Bay could get a car every few minutes, but the crowd thickened at Rintoul-street iunction, and never a car hove in sight for forty-five minutes. When one pathetic single car got to that corner, it was packed with DeoDle. Those who were not sittine on the laps of others were standing on their own feet and' the feet of their friends. During the whole of the afternoon the service was a good deal worse, than none at all. We had previously thought that Island Bay people exowleo 1 overmuch, but now we are convinced that they are absolutely tame and meek.

Mr. Robeit Logan, jun., the head of the yacht-building him or Logaai Bios., of Auckland, was in Wellington the gi eater part oi last week. He us away from home partly for health — arter a stiff bout with appendicitis — and partly for pleasure, and pushed on for Dunedm, Chiistchurch, and Nelson on Tuesday last. The names of Logan and Bailey are household woids with yachting men vi the colonies. Robert, by the way turned out that binait craft, the Aorangi, which flies the flag of the Turnbulls, and Roberta fathei it was who was the author and finisher of that good, old-fashioned sailer, the Maritana. The Logan Brothers aie still busy launching yachts and oil launches. Their latest creation in the yacht line is the Anki, a fortyfooter, beautifully shaped, and handsomely upholstered, for E. C. Horton, the youngest scion of the newspaper Horton family up m Auckland This young fellow is deaf and dumb, but a keen yachtsman nevertheless. * ♦ * Mr. Logan tells us that up on the Waitemata the rage is now all foi oil launches, and yachting is being pushed into a corner bv the newest notion. You see, the oil launch is the busy man's pleasure craft. You don't wait for a favourable breeze, nor is there any need to muster your crew. If you have a couple of hours to spare, you simply walk aboard, start your engines, and away you go feeling sure you'll be back on the tick of time to take your best girl to the Opera House. The oillaunoh has come to stay, and, in a few years' time, we expect to see quite a large fleet snugged up in Wellington harbour, and at holiday time poking about the Sounds. * * • A most affecting incident between a man and hi^ young son was. witnessed in the suburbs the other day. A boy of about twelve, carrying a school-bag, raced out of a stable. He was followed by a large, red-bearded patent, aimed with a yard of old reins. The man ran the boy down in the middle of the road, and the whacking he gave him would have served as a very satisfactory correction for a young hippopotamus. Then the man let up, and, standing with his belting unfurled, said, <( Now, will you kiss your father when you are told, you infernal young scamp?" "Nothin' like learnm' the little devils to be affectionate while they're young," he added, -for the information of the amazed onlookers. * * • Car going along at a good pace. Drowsy carter on the line, with a horse in^tpw behind. Furious bell-ringing. No go. Car apron hits the horse aft, and bounces him out of the road. Apron bashed' in, and car otherwise scratched. Motorman descend 1 ?, and "slangs" horsedriver. Men leave car. Self-preser-vation first law of nature. Ladies do not leave car. Still "slanerine." the car starts for town "on its own." Excited motoiman chalets his fractious charee. and s;ets to his brakes' in time to prevent car from pulling: up on the Hutt-road. We breathe again.

Marvellous old fellow, who is alleged to <be ninety-eight, and who hasn't smoked, drunk alcohol, or dan© anything wiong all his life, walked from John o' Gioats to Land'-s End in seventeen days. According to the veracious journal which says so, the distance is 1000 miles. So he did over fifty miles a day. England has lengthened very materially lately. * * * Charlie Marter, late of the "New Zealand Times," but now on the staff of the '^Sydney Daily Telegraph," has had an adventure. He tried to get into a theatre, having been sent there in order to "do the show." He was stopped, as. in consequence of his newspaper notices not being jamm^ enough, the manager had issued the ukase that piessmen desiring admission must apply to him m person. Marter battled in without seeing the manager. There was war. Ultimately a "Telegraph" man wrote some burning things in Steele Rudd's magazine. Some of them. — "Mr. Marter is paid bv us for fulfilling certain onerous and disagreeable duties. His 1 own wishes and inclinations were not expressed bv him till later. If we had asked him to «ro and take notes about a funeral, he would have done so with equal cheerfulness and alacrity. • • « "Mr. Marter is unflinching at the call of duty. Without a murmur, without a falter, he mounted' the steps that lead to the D.C. door. The doorkeeper tried to stop him. Told him he must first see Combs, in order to get admission free. Mr. Marter ienored that dookeeper, and went in. He did ri^ht. Mr. Marter was sent bv us to report the show, even if it killed him He us a brave man, he sat the show out. More, he wrote a notice. A man who could write a notice after seeing the show could earn a V.C. as a mere pastime, a mere detail." The "Telegraph" further says that as no dramatic critic can go to the show unless he sees the particular manager it deals with, that no notice of that manager's "legs" can appear, now or forever. "The average ignorant showman fancies he has only to ring any Sydney paper on the 'phone, and he can get as much free notice out of that paper as he desires. He is stupid enough to fanov that the papers are at his beck and call, as if the papers were a set of fools, in business to gratuitously advertise pioductions, which, as a great general rule, pander to the follies of the community." * * • The "Telegraph" explains that years ago a big theatrical firm erred likewise, and the "Daily Teleerraph's" critic paid. It is presumed that the critic wrote his five shillingsworth, too The managei ooncluded he was getting to much notice^ — of a kind — and changed his tone, and climbed down. Managers will always climb down, or "go down." It is impossible to run a 6how without the newspapers. The manager said he could do without advertising, and rema! ks. in loud ink "I merely say to the 'Daily Telegraph,' 'consider yourselves dead, gentlemen."' Maybe Charlie will be the martyr ; maybe the manager. We shall see.

' Motoring is too absolutely sweet, really." So we heard some societywomen aver, with a good 1 deal of gush, the other day. So it is. The sweetness is for the motorists, and the smell foi the general public. Not always too nice for the motorists, however. Duung the luncheon hour, one day last week, a good - sized crowd were observed, and a large, penetrating smell was "felt," as the Scotch say, on the Quay. There wasn't any kerosene bond about, but there, was a motor car inside that crowd. In it were two ladies, very red and very perturbed, and under it was the motorist, surrounded with flames and the aforesaid smell, and he was trying to turn the fire off with a spanner. « » * Curiously, the crowd didn't pity him. The flames lapped the enamel of the machine, and the ladies got anxious. Anyhow, they left the perspiring motorist, and his spanner, and the flames, and elected to walk. An ominous gurgle like a young Waimangu clearing its throat for a shot rumbled through the innards of the vehicle. The crowd hastily and respectfully withdrew to safety, and went to lunch. It is thought that the motor went to the hospital. • • • Another growl from an esteemed correspondent says the car-guards don't always change the name-plate on the cars, and that people are consequently carried 1 past their destination. The correspondent avers that he had topay an extra fare one recent day and when he remonstrated the guard remarked • "Oh, well, a brown, won't break yer!" • * * One of the keenest fishermen in Wellington is a lawyer, and, being a lawyer, he is, of course, wise beyond common wisdom. He and a fnend journeyed to Wallaceville to cast the sparkling gossamer, and lure the wily trout to his unmerited doom. The lawyer, knowing a thing or two, went along the rivet to "spot" the spotted beauties, and he returned to the hotel. There was nobody in the smokingroom of the hotel but his friend and! a person who mi^ht have been a farmer down with a load of pigs or praties. So Lex confided to his friend, in a stage whisper, that he had found a tremendous plant of fish "just above the bridges," and he would whip the stream after breakfast to-morrow. • * * Girding on his rods, and his hatful of flies and things, he journeyed out in the morning. His thoughts were full of spots and rainbows, and he got ready as he journeyed. As he topped the gentle rise above the bridge, he saw the farmer person rapidly hauling a trout out of his special preserve. There weie sixteen trout alongside him, and this was the seventeenth and last. His chagi in showed itself. "Have you had good fishing, sir?" asked the farmer person. The lawyer said some terse things. "Ha ! Ha !" laughed the farmer person. "It's the first time I ever got the better of a lawyer. May I offer you some fish ?" Then he tendered his card. He was Sir Graham , a distinguished tourist No, the lawyer doesn't tell the story.

Miiyb Gertie Campion's benefit, at the Bat>m Receive, on Fndaj afternoon last, was looked after well by Providence, which sent Gertie a glonous day and a lot ot friends. It was a "dead head" show — perhaps,. But, the man who successfully pa>*-,ed the ladies with the tambourines was no gentleman, and the fair ones — most of them professional 01 ex-professional — wheedled and coaxed and scored like a veritable Hospital Sunday girl in Sydney Inside the professional element was very strone, but the alloy of the public wasn't weak. » * * The first thing to atti act the attention of the crowd was the Devil and Sam Rowley, who were in charge ot a tent containing a life-like repiesentation of "Bone-apart Grossing the Alps," "The Light That Failed"— by Julius Night, and "Pans by Night. Sam Rowley did about the heaviest "turn" we've seen ham in, but the Devil only looked red and gloomy. * * The burlesque cricket match was good goods, and presented some large, bright chuckles. All the comedians of all the vaudeville companies doing business here chased the leather, and did knockabout "turns" with tiemendous vigour. When the Wheelers, on their bikes, got the ball things were hardly of a Sabbatarian character, and the red-shirted cowboy had to have recourse to his revolver several times. Mr. Percy Den ton was simply immense in a gaily-flowered gown by Wirth, of Pans and a picture hat straight from Kirk's. * » • This lady's interference with the game ended up by her getting riddled with bullets by All-Fired Ike the Reckless Rangrer of the Rockies, and the funeral obsequies, headed bv Fred Rivenhall, plavme the "Dead March in Saul" on a cricket bat, broueht tears 1 to every eve. As far as oould be ascertained Les Whartoin put ur> the biggest scoi c, but we are not sure. * * * The local show proprietors, Messrs. Fuller, DLx, and others, were assiduity personified, and a concert got into working order in a small tent. The tent had! no hope with the crowd, bo "His Majesty's" announced an open-air show, and a very good show it was too, although the ladies 1 one knows so well on the stage looked strangely unfamiliar in their everyday dress. "Why," a lady in the rear of us exclaimed, "they ain't 'dome up' !" It would be a refreshing change, one might imagine. » * * Miss Louie Perfect, Miss Maud Faning, Miss Maggie Fraser, Miss Maud Beatty, the Trevena sisters, Master Charles Hayes (the wee contortionist), and the Boy Choristers gave a very entertaining concert. There were raffles and things, and comic Hebrews, and hairy Scotsmen, and! white-eyed Kaffirs doing all right for Gertie, and it would have warmed the heart of that excellent little lady if she could have seen the work put in on her account. Some of the comedians during their "tuiW at the various houses 1 on tlhe succeeding night appeared 6ore. but it was soreness contracted in a pood cause. May they always stick to- a friend who is down on her luck. "Orowaiti," to the Lance.— "The average corpse in Westport cemetery dunno were 'c are. Citizen died, wife purchased two plots of land, in, one of which she reverently disposed of the ex-breadwinner, reserving the other for herself when she needed it. Later, she was horrified, m going to place flowers on the grave, to find that a mere washerwoman was occupying her own reserve. There was a row. It was impossible. She stirred heaven, earth, and the authorities to have Mrs. Sudt> removed, and removed she eventually was. She couldn't bear the thought of the washerlady answering the last call accompanied by her husband. There was temporary rest. • • • But a man and a child died, and were buried. The relatives of the former decided six months after to erect a stone over his grave. The mother of the child visited the cemetery later to find that a huge stone over the child's grave told the world that John Jax, sixty years of age, was the occupant. The authorities 1 said it was all right, but the mother said emphatically 'No!' They sank a shaft into the 'child's' crave, and found the old man all right When they get the three- ton stone shifted into its right position there will be rest once more. # * * A citizen went to the cemetery to find the grave of his mother-in-law. He couldn't find her, and has come to the conclusion that she may have gone down m the Ventnor, but that if she got to China she would have a better chance of rest than in the Westport cemetery. He says that the lady hates pigtails, and doesn't know what she'll do when she finds herself called upon to answer the last trump surrounded by Chinamen."

At a New South Wales election, the booth was so dark that one of the candidates bought candles to illuminate the Cimmerian gloom. The independent elector, keenly alive to the value of has vote, charged 2s a-pieoe for those candles. He had the "drop." • • • The photographically illustrated papeis are never stuck. If Admiral Pmtoviski gets killed to-day. he is photographed in the paper to-morrow. The admiral ranges from a general in top-boots, spurs, and a clean shave to a fearsome and hirsute grizzly bear, with a breast full of medals like the frontwindow of a pawnshop. It doesn't matter what Russian officer is 1 photographed as long as the subject has whiskers and medals. "Science Siftings" tells bow one may live to be very very old without showing it. The chief help towards that end is to take a two-houit>' Jiap in the afternoon. It is clear the treatment is for millionaires, and that the average person, who has to woik hard for a living, must go on dying at seventy or eighty, mere youths. « * * More or less true stoiy related of a tram-car accident down South. Evidence supposed to have "come out" in court. Woman claimed damages. Stated that she and her husband were thrown out of the car. Husband rose, and shook the dust out of his clothes "Are you hurt?" he asked the missus. "No,"' said she. With that he "up and give her a black eye." "Now you are!' he said. "We'll claim damages'" So they did, but they didn't recover. » * * The Press Gallery of the House has never been a happier family party than during the session recently past. Consider that the home life of its members is broken up for nearly five months. They live in the atmosphere of politics and small talk. They sit up o' nights and scribble. They 6it down o' days and scribble, and in five minutes of

spare time they stand up, with their waistcoats against the wall-paper, with the wall for a desk, and scribble. Miok Keene, whose first Parliamentary session the past one was, doesn't mind it much. He is the "casual chronicler" of "About the House" in the "Post." This is what he wrote to Fred Reeves (ohairmani of the Gallery), as 1 the Gallery was packing its haversack for a flit. The "Old Vice" doesn't mean Bellamy's beer, or anything like that. It means Alec Burns, the vice-chairman, and a Press Association scribe. Thus Mick : To "The Ghatr." Of the Gallery of 1904, A.D. (With an allusion to "the old Vice"). Ere the rowdy "room" is quiet (How it rang To the roaring and the not And the "swang"), Ere the brotherhood is broken, And your last old "speech" is spoken, Take these stanzas as a token From the "gang." And "the Vice" who helped to soften Every storm, Though his talk was very often Loud and warm, Though his words were often tart, he Takes the wishes, warm and hearty, Of the earnest puie Young Party Of Reform. Noith, South, East, and West we're going, Who can tell, When next winter's winds are blowing, If "the bell" For the "list" will not discover That our Gallery days are over, And we're sleeping 'neaththe clover? — So farewell ' Here's a motto for our final Last parade — Thoueh our luck shine fair or shine ill, Be it <:aid, At the end of this our tether, "Let our hearts be still together, In all seasons — every weather — Shine or shade."

An elderly and wealthy widowei , who recently advertised toi <l wife m a certain paper, received in leply a bundle of letters and photogiaphb. To his great astonishment, his thiee daughters and a niece weie among the number who offered to become hiis wife. He cairried on a typewritten correspondence with all four, "just to see," he said, "what they thought of themselves." Then he made appointments with them all in the same place, and there was a revelation of identities, from the shock of which they have not recovered yet. A curious" part of the story is that, although the three daughters lived under the same loof, each was unaware of the others' part in the affair.

Theie was diphtheria on the Coiinthic, and, of course, the Port Health Officer had to peer into a forest of throats. } Tis said that the medico obtained a spoon with which to press down the tongues of passengers in OTdea* to clearly see the throat After the doctor had been pressing down tongues for several minutes, the lady passengers struck a bee-line for the saloon. They quickly reappeared in marching order, and dressed' up in sunerle file, each lady shoiuldennig her own spoon There had been plenty of "spoons" during the passage out, but the display of spooning on health-inspection morning easily beat the record:. One spoon for the whole ship wasn't good enough.