All Sorts Of Peope

Free Lance, Volume VI, Issue 278, 28 October 1905, Page 3

All Sorts Of Peope

u>jkT EW Zealand is not slow at taking IM credit to itself for anything ■^ under the sun, but it has, so far, missed one thing — the marked improvement it has effected in His Excellency as a public speaker. When Lord Plunket arrived 1 from Ireland, a little over a year ago, he* was not by any means a fluent speaker, and at any of our innumerable little oeremonaails — we are full of tin-pot ceremony — invariably read what he had to say briefly. He is still brief, andl the reporters call hiiTn blessed, but he has become used to speaking in public, andl now doe® so as if he really liked it. More than that, he scores every time. * * * / His speech at the Newtown Park last Friday, at the Navy League shivoo, * was muchly in the best taste and language, and, furthermore, was popularly brief. If public speakers only knew the* real wit that lies in brevity they would be a great deal mare popular and their speeches moire weighty, for wind is cheap, and a leaky tongue often has a shallow pate. To revert to His Excellency, he has the .saving grace of humour, and usually terminates his few remarks with >a joke that is worth a smile, if not a lajuigh, and ergo, all listeners like the Governor. Another good point about him is that he repairs his own motor-oar in overalls. ■'Mis Excellency, Lady Plunket, and "sweet," are just waiting for the bang of the doors of Parliament to quit Wellington for the mare salubrious climate of Auckland, and 1 anybody who is anybody in the Northern city (in the female line) is roundl the bargain shops fishing for things that can be adapted for garden parties and summer "At Homes," while the Guv'ment'au.s© in Princess-street is shaking a year's dust into Albert Park, andl otherwise preparing for the viceregal coming. The Plunkets like Auckland, and Auckland likes them, so the party will not be tear-stained ait the temporary change, even though Wellington weeps. • • * Tough statement by Rev. Mr. Kyall, at an Anglican Synod : — "The prison methods of New Zealand are just about as barbaric as they could be, and, instead of gaol being a hospital for criminals, it is a school of crime." Oh, well, a parson or two helps now again. One parson got a man run in in Auckland recently for begging the piuoe of a meal. \Mt. H. A. Campbell, the Labour candidate for the Egmont seat in Parliament, isn't a rich man. In fact, he has got no money but what he has saved as a railway navvy. As he hasn't got a free pass on the railways yet, he is going to 'hump biuey" round his electorate, and vigorously persuade the vacillating elector armed! with a swag and a fluent tongue. There is no dirabt that the person who has grit enough to tackle a big Walk without money deserves a little commendlatdon, if not political support. It may be that his ability as a walker doesn't make him able as a politician, but there is also no doubt that some politicians now drawing a nice little "dot" every month would! be doing better work "humping bluey."

Mr. Dundas Walker, the elongated son of the late Hon. W. Walker, formerly Minister for Education, is a member of the Brough-Flemmang Company. In his callow amateur days Mr. Walker was a capital eccentric dancer and a gay impersonator of female roles. When a Southern operatic society staged "Dorothy" not many years ago, Dundas bloomed as Mrs. Privett, the ooy but mouldy mash of the gallant but bibulous Lurcher, and no one guessed that anything was wrong. * * * J>Who is that officer in blue and gold?" was a frequent query at Newtown Bark last Friday—an enquiry directed against an officer in a very handsome full-dress uniform, cocked hat, and gaudy etceteras. He was known to very few present, and there was a vague suspicion that he had escaped from some comic opera or naval drama to honour Trafalgar Day. To quieten all perturbation, we solemnly declare that the officer who shetltered behind the massive figure of Mr. J. G. W. Aitken, M.H.R., was Captain E. J Thomas, the only officer south of the Line entitled to wear the uniform of an Imperial paymaster captain, formerly of Sydtney, and now chief clerk in the City Engineer's department. . * * * /'Captain Thomas was formerly in fclie •^Navy, having been paymascei on H.M.S. Wolverine tram jlBB2 to 18bu, in Australasian waters. He them quitted the sea tor the shore, and became secretary and paymaster to the New South Wales Naval Brigade, a position he held from 1886 to 1892, when he dropped into the reserve. On the outbreak of the war in the Transvaal, Captain Thomas was appointed paymaster, with the Imperial rank of captain, and as such had to superintend: tthe finances in connection with the New South Wales Contingents. • ♦ * ylt was to Captain Thomas that the news of any casualties were cabled', and to him fell the bitter task of informing the relatives of dead and wounded meai of what had occurred). On suoh occasions Captain Thomas was never without an official cheque-book, and if the circumstances warranted it the book always left the house of the bereaved ones a leaf lighter thani it entered it. The position, while it lasted, was an exceedingly trying one, and under the strain tihe officer's health broke down, but not until he had cleared up the work of his department. Then he collapsed, came over to New Zealand in 1903 to recuperate, and has recouped to such ian extent that he cut a very dasihing figure at the Nelson centenary demonstration last week. Captain Thomas is a Wellingon Savage, and a genial spirit worth cultivating. j * * * /.The late Sir Henry Irving was an eniunently just and fair man, but in the matter of his people's duty to himself and their work he was — well, a martinet. Rehearsals were never slurred, and it made the people of his company a little wild sometimes. There was one oocasion on which Sir Hemry summoned the whole of the company "for special rehearsal." When they assembled they found that they were there simply to see a new lady member walk across the stage. On the notice board in the green-room afterwards appeared a notice. It read : "The company will assemble to-morrow (Friday), at 10.45 a.m., to see the chief carpenter drive a nail." When the company read it they did not smile, for they reckoned that only the boldest spirit dare invite the wrath of the great Henry. But, a young actor named Pinero — you've beard of him, maybe? — owned! to being the author of the fearful words. Since which Pinero has written several things that have a wider vogue than the green-room notice board affords.

yA. Lancer waaibed upon that darang alpine-climber, Mr. S. Turner, F.R.G.S., as he lay at his ease in Miss Palmer's private hospo/tal last week, recovering from a nasty experience gained on the corrugated ice-slopes of hoary old Ngauruhoe, the 7500 ft. volcano that overlooks the- southern end of Lake Taupo. Mir. Tumeir states that he got there — right to the crater — all right on the day he set out up the mountain, but the coming down was another matter. In vain he tried to discover the mountain hut, which, he asserts, was not in the positron shown in the map supplied him, and he hotly contends that, if it is only for the protection of life, the district should be properly mapped out, and the hut should be marked by a pole big enough to be seen with the glasses over a decent area of that side of the mountain on which the hit is situated. * * * the top of the mountain, when about to take a look down the yawning chasm of the crater, a fierce gust of wind and sulphurous fumes lifted his cap and snow-goggles high in the air, and bore them away to some alpine crevice remote from all human ken. The goggles lost, Mr. Turner had! to stand the glare of the sun on the sickemngly white snow for the rest of that day and the greater part of the next. He continued his dreary search for the hut until about 2 a.m., when, worn out with fatigue, and disgusted with the geography of New Zealand, he crawled into a cave, stuck his benumbed 1 feet into Ms knapsack, and sank into sleep. Jack Frost only gave ham half-an-hour's rest, when he woke in a halffrozen condition, and 1 stared out of the cave on to a glorious panorama of gaunt mountain crags and fields of upland snow, rosily illumined with the first rays of the morning sun. "Ib was the sight of a life-time," says Mr. Turner, "and took away my sense of hunger for fully five minutes." Then, the folly of searching for this will-o'-the-wisp hut dawned upon him like the sun on the mountains, and l he resolved to make for the half-way house between Tokaanu and' Waioru, steering by the compass. But, many rougjh miles of extremely difficult ©aumbry lay between him and thiat haven, and before he rfeachedl it (at 3 p.m. on Sunday) he was almost blind amid nearly starving. Mr. Turner says : "Towards the eaid' I must have been delirious, for I can faintly remember thanking the mountain for allowing me to olimb it. I had nothing to thank it for, I assure you, so it must have been delirium." He received attention at the half-way house, and from there proceeded to Tanhape, where he picked up the train for the private hospital in Wellington. Mr. Turner is really a butter-buyer, and represents Wilier and Riley, of London and Manchester, for whom he has purchased 1500 tons of the present season's North Island output. He also madie extensive purchases in Austral ia ; Those interested in travel and daring mountaineering should read' "Siberia" (Fisiheir, Unwin and Oo.), written by Mr. Turner. Lady Warwick, of the great name and great "wealth, and who is a member of the Social Democratic Federation, seems to be advancing with the times. This to several advanced Radicals and trade unionists the other day : — "Lady Warwick requests the pleasure of Mr. So-and-So and lady's company an Sumday, July 30, to a picnic in Eastieim Gardens. Luncheon. Tea." For* the first time in our history;, men and women of revolutionary opinions were invited to a countess's country seat, and the invitations were not sent as from a patroness or Lady Bountiful but as from a fellow member, an S.D.F. comrade.

l^Pnat droll Dr. Bakewell, of Auckland, again. "What do you suppose," he asks young New Zealanders, "induces these English football clubs to continue playing the New Zealand team? The hope of beating you? Not a bit of it I They go into the field with the foregone conclusion that they will and 1 miust be beaten. . . They know that their defeat will be witnessed by their mothers, their sisters, and, worse than all, their sweethearts. But, they go at it all tihe same, with the dogged' determination of" learning how the New ZealandeTs so invariably win. V'l have not told you all thie truth about yourselves, or anything approaching ffc. I did this once nn another colony, and had! to carry a loaded! revolver about with me all day, and sleep with it under my pillow at night for about fifteen months. So lam never going to do: that again. It is so tedious to have to carry a large revolver constantly." * * * Miss Alice Roosevelt, during the past fifteen months, has been present at 408 dinners, 350 balls, and' 300 small dances. Her five o'clock teas number 680, and 1 she has paid! 1700 calls. The Shah has offered her the position of "No. 8" in has harem. "Mother can't spare me," says Alice. Alice, of course, has to get away to the Adirondacks (that's right, isn't it?) for her "beauty cures" every "fall." This pair is written majuly to show that if Sandbw" goes out of the "strong" business, Alice 'a available. • • • Irving yarns axe the vogue, "and we make obeisance. Miss Ellen, Terry, in "Stray Memories, " writes of her first appearance with the distinguished dead ( knight of the stage : "I fancy we neither of us played very well (in 'Katherine and 1 Petruchio 3 ). From the first I noticed that Mir. Irvimg worked more concentratedly than all thie other actors put together, and! the most important lesson of my working life I learnt from him — that to do one's work well one must work continually, live a life of constant self-denial for that purpose, and*, in short, keep one's nose upon the grindstone. ♦ • * "It is a lesson one had! better learn early in stage life, I thank, for the bright, glorious, healthy career of a successful actor or actress is but brief at the best. There is an old story told of Mr. Irving being struck with my talent at this time, and promising if he ever had a theatre of 'his own he would give me an engagement ! But thiat is all moonshine. As a matter of fact, I am sure he never thought of me at all at that time. I was just then acting very badly, and, feeling ill, oared scarcely at all for my work or the theatre, or anybody belonging to a theatre." It was not until eleven years later that Miss Terry was engaged by Sir Henry. • • • Bishop Neligan, of Auckland, smokes a bit, but, as far as we can gather, does not drinik or gamble. Quite a lot of people who do not drink themselves keep a drop of something "hard" on the premises, however. So when, the other day, a squad of "jacks" from, the Prometheus went along to Bishopsoouirt to dieoorate it for a garden party, the Bishop remarked, when the work was dlone: "Well, boys, you have worked hard, and you must be dry, eh?" The tains heaved up the slack of their overalls fore and aft, andl wiped l their mouths with the back of their hiands. The Bishop, with his very own hands, brought the bottles, wrapped in paper. "Mime's a whisky !" chuckled! a brawny quartermaster, under his breath. Said his lordship, as he pulled: a cork . : "Help yourself to the limejuice, men I What internal profanity!

v/Mr. C. P. Davis, the urban© Gisborne gentleman, whose relaitaves (including his aged mother) largely reside in Wellington, has been paying them a visit an has way back to Poverty Bay from a trip to the Pacafio Slope. Mr. Davis needed a bracer, so he sliipped away to Vancouver id the Aorangi, and declares he had the time of his life, though he has seen somewhere about a jubilee of years. Fine-weather passages both ways, with food, attendance, and accommodation excellent. • * • Every holiday-maker to Vancouver goes to Banff House, the luxurious hostelry away up in the "Rookies," and there he fell in with the GovernorGeneral of Canada, Earl Grey, and other people worth knowing, but he saw no "bars" except those where "gin slings" and hot sodas" are obtaiiruable, and Deadwood Dicks and Calamity Janes were an invisible quantity. The only excitement at the "Banff" was the explosion of a big gasoline tank (which but for prompt action, would have fired the whol^ house) and 1 poker. It was very fine and exhilarating to live up in the "Rockies," but nowhere was the scenery to compare with New Zealand's mountain prospects. Vancouver was an eye-opener. He was credibly informed that eighteen, years, ago there was one house in Vancouver. To-day, some 50,000 people manage to get along there, and are assisted in making the best of things by magnificent stone buildings, fine parks, and electric tramways , while the Princess line of steamers to the East aire just as good as anything that swims. • # • While, there the place was illuminated by a lumber mill catching on. fire, but, as only a mere loss of 55,000 dollars was sustained, no particular notice' was taken of the incident, which simply ended in smoke. Times are good in Vancouver, and, like Wel'liniejtoin, suburban property is booming. On the upvoyage the Aorangi called at Fiji, and there shipped nine 'hundred! tons of sugar for the Dominion, which fact gives ground for the belief that the future trade between" hereabouts and thereabouts should' be extensive*. • • • Most men about town will remember the big, florid Irish- American, Mr. J. Kerwin, who bonstructed the Wellington electric tramway system for Messrs. McElroy, Macartney, and Co., of New York and London, a heavyweight gentleman who knew his business backwards, but never did it that way. Remembering him, you will be interested to know that he left behind m Wellington more than an electric tramway, for l^ it is alleged that he will re-visit the colony about Easter next to see> 'about it. 'In short, that saucy witch, Dame Rumour, says he is engaged to a charming Wellington girl, who " resides within the sound of J3t. Peter's chimes, having laid the track to her heart as he did/ that for the trams 1 Chorus (by (Tommy Rot) : — John Kerwin laid the tramway track For the Corporation ; Let's hope the fact will lead him back To blissful exultation. L WOaptain W. S. Canavan, who presided at the fifth annual re-mmon of the First Contingent last week, is a Marlborough man. "Marlboro' " smacks of war, doesn't it? And the modest Oanavan is the last person, to say a word about war, especially now that he has settled down and has a wife and family. Captain Canavan is the descendant of a long line of Irish nobles, and we suppose those noblemen had grit — and transmitted it. The captain, while on service in South Africa, like so many others, had ill health, and it is to his everlasting credit that while the fever raioked his bones he stuck manfully to his graft in those buWetful days, and pulled out with honour. / • * • s/ Little "Jacky" Hughes, also a captain, and now inspecting officer of cadets in New Zealand, wears the D.S.O. — and deserves it. Don't know what he got tihe D.S.O. for, but know the special act that deserved it. Without being too hard on. a certain crack cavalry regiment, which was soreeining gums at Oolesbuxg (andl which regiment nobly faced, every bit of subsequent fighting that was going), it may be mentioned that "Jacky" pulled those guns on* of danger, and did not get the V.C. / V You don't know quite enough of those New Zealand! chaps who did things. 'Tis a far cry from the wearer of the D.S.O. to Private "Rowley" Young. He was of the Karori Gardens Youngs, and a cheerful chap, who took things pretty much as they trotted along. There was a bad day for "Rowley." Once he was No. 3 of a section — the horse-hold-er — and he had to get four horses out ftiom a minaibure 'hell created by five hundred Mauser rifles. "Rowley" could bave let the horses go, and got to camp. He didn't let them go. Today he is a shattered man, pulled to pieces by four horses. He doesn't

wihimper, and gets a pension. Oh, well , it is the fortune of war. / v Wearing a check suit, the coat oi which has one empty sleeve, is Ernie Loekefct, of Wanganui — and l Losbeig. "Ernie" has left his dastuiguashed oonducfc medal at Wangaaiui, for fear someone wall tell him oi it. Somebody wnispers . 'Toor old Tuck !" "Pacw old Tuck" was a sergeant with the "First," and is now a sergeant major and instructor of mounted infantry. Was once a policeman, comes from Somerset, narrowly escaped paralysis, amd is just pulling out of the valley of the shadow. Way over there is Saddler-sergeant Harris, who was a prisoner at Waterfall — captured at Sanaa's Post. He joined from the Wellington, Guards, but is a cavalryman, and used to belong to tlue 10th Hussars. Han is was mentioned in despatches. • • • And among the forty-five or fifty soldiers at the shivoo were mien who have won good business posituoaas in the short five years of civil life since the war. The grit that sends a mian to pull a trigger for his Queen is the same grit that drives him ahead in commerce. Before we leave the "First," we would like to mention the snowy-moustaehed veteran on the chairman's right — lan McPherson. It sounds Scotch. It is Scotch. It is the chief engineer of Now Zealand's first troopship, Waiwera, taking a cup o' kindness for auld lang syne. ' "Right close" a couple of paces, and /you. bump Donnelly, of tihe Masonic Hotel. Who is Donnelly? He was the chief oletrk in th© Defence Pay Branch when the troops came marching home, and he worked all day and all night, and) understood bis business. There ia a lump of affection, as big as a prize pumpkin for old Donnelly. He was drafted from the Permanent Artillery — a mere gunner — to take the toughest billet in New Zealand. There are many fellows in tihe crowd who haive done tihangs, but it is a bit late in the day to re-hash them. You thought them worth a bit of a. cheer six years ago. You couldn't raise a whisper foar a khakero now-a-days. \/Mr. R. N. Glover (you might call it Royal Navy Glover) is the young son of Mrs. Glover-Eaton, and nisi two years in the colony have been two years of indifferent health. Thanks to the recuperative qualities of Cambridge (in the Waikato) young Glover is bucking up. But what we want to say about Mm is that he was a Royal Navy boy on board the famous Victory, and that, having put in his preliminary training there, joined H.M.S. Trafalgar, which is sufßcent of a cancidence. Also, he

was drafted to the Agineourt. His jiaval career was cut short by ill-health, and hie was invalided, coming to this colony to try to get back has strength. / iHe tells us he has had the duty of polishing the brass plate on the Victory, which marks the spot where. Nelson fell. Be tells a story of the old lady who, while crossing the smooth surface of the plate, slipped and fell. "That is where Nelson fell," remarked a sympathetic old tar. "And I don't wonder," said the ©Id party, "seem' how slippery that plate is. Why, I fell over it myself." • • • It was a painfully pathetic sight to see our worthy Town Olerk reciting Kipling's "Recessional" at the Trafalgar Day demonstration in. Newtown Park last Friday. Half a gale of nor'-west-erly was blowing, and he had to speak against it withi the Governor, Lady Plunket, the Premier, and' Bishop Wallis within arm's length. In an attempt to combat the elements— elooutaomani'ly speaking — he commenced! in a highpitched', strident voice, that the gale caught up and carried over the hills and far away. • * * Occasionally those within a twentyyards' radius caught the words . "Lest we forget 1 Lest we forget!" "We ain't likely to forget this!" said one "Permanent" man to another, as he dragged one sopping boot out of the grassy place equally as swampy. There was a loud bumst of silence when the last line was yelled out, but Mr. Palmer had done his duty, for many a man would have declined to recite under the circumstances, for the wind and clouds a-re so uniappreciatiye. Mr. Palmer held the words in his hand : "Lest he forgot! Lest he forgot!" • • • jC man dropped into this office on Trafalgar Day — that is, the twentieth — and said the House was stonewalling. We asked who were the masons engaged. "Oh, there are Tommy Taylor and Harry Bedford, and — oh, lots of them !'" We drifted out into the patriotic breeze of Manners-street, and beheld a fiery chestnut horse, fretting on his bit, and ridden by a young gentleman wearing a light check suit and a broad head. He rode a bit "long," to accentuate his stature, and didn't sit to the jog. It was Harry Bedford!, who was supposed to be wearing his little soul out in the agony of his feelings in the House. It was obvious that Harry had been making the pace, for the gallant chestnut was wet with honest sweat, and Harry looked as if he was a bit moist. Just mention this to show that nothing will tear our devoted Parliamentarians away from the House when stern duty calls.