THE INTELLIGENT VAGRANT.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXX, Issue 4571, 13 November 1875, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE INTELLIGENT VAGRANT.

(From the New Zealand Mail.) Quis sclt an adjlci&nt hodiernie crastina summas Tempera Di Superb— Horace. The Immigration Officer has been made aware of a new “ occupation.” Amongst the Howrah's immigrants was one gentleman in reference to whose name the “ occupation column was blank. On being asked by Mr. Elliot how he had been accustomed to earn his living, he said that he had really forgotten, the length of the voyage and the interest he took in the icebergs liad quite driven the thing out of his head. But he felt certain that a day or two on shore would make his memory all right, and enable him to remember his occupation. Mr. Elliot, to whose urbanity the captain of the Hindostan was a witness, let this immigrant ashore, and subsequent events show that this trust was not betrayed. Yesterday morning he came into the office and formally registered himself as a water-cart driver. He says that he spent two days ascertaining what was the pleasantest and easiest kind of work going in the colony, and haring found out, has adopted it. He told a fellowimmigrant, who had foolishly put himself down as a schoolmaster, that “ all you had to do was to sit on a box, smoke, and turn a little wheel now and again.” He considers the colony the true home of the working man, and is about to write to Sir George Grey on the subject. X wonder the colony is not indignant at the conduct of the Government that refused the use of cannon to salute Sir George Grey. Had they lent the Reception Committee thecanuon there is no knowing what good they might not have accomplished. It is more than probable that the same exuberant feeling which displayed itself in ringing the firebells until the ropes broke, would have loaded the cannons up to the muzzle and caused some of them to burst. Then a few of the committee might have been killed ; it is even within the bounds of possibility that the Eev. G. M. Keed might have been disintegrated, and what a boon to humanity that would have been. If anyone should contemplate a trip to the old country and back, X would advise him to carefully count the cost before setting out. The thing cannot be done so cheaply as some might imagine. A practical instance has been lately afforded. Some gentlemen were going round with a subscription list in order to get funds for fitting up the Thorndon Baths. They called on the Hon. Mr. Watertoast amongst others, and expressing surprise at the tenuity of his contribution, were answered that his visit Home had cost him so much that he could only afford a small sum for the general benefit in the way of bathing. Most people are agreed that the letter of “ A Passenger” has put matters straight as regards Captain Logan of the Hero and the Marquis of Normanby. Perhaps it is unnecesary for me to mention in this connection that I m not a personal acquaintance of the lastnamed gentleman, which is a matter to be regretted —for his sake. I could teach him to say such nice little cutting things about Sir George Grey, and I fear that without instruction from some one such as me he is too thoroughly good-natured to say cutting things about anyone. This is not the point however, which is that the c orrespondence about the Hero was a mistake forOaptainLogan,andhas effects thathe did not contemplate. Why, it was only a few days ago that they fetched down one of the Governor’s horses to put on board the Luna, in which his master was going to the Canterbury races. On previous trips that horse had always walked aboard, as his groom said, “like a Christian,” but this time he just put his nose to the end of the plank, cleared the people out from behind him by means of his heels, and refused to budge an inch. Captain Fairchild has taken too many donkeys on board (in connection with the opening of Parliament) to be beaten by a mere horse. Besides, he saw a chance of another paragraph in the paper, complimenting him on his well-known skill and ingenuity. So he mustered Liq crew, and by means of the best hawsers and a dozen spare oars, hoisted the horse on board amidst the breathless interest of the lookers-on. But when the horse was got on board, he just lay down on deck and would not move. Someone expressed his surprise at this unwonted obstinacy, but an observer said 1 : “He’s beenjreading all those letters about the Hero, and he don’t like going in a steamer any more, lest the captain should write to the papers, and drag his name into the correspondence. There are certain columns of this newspaper to which I have long wished to contribute, but to which the editor has always refused me access. Those are the shipping columns. To me, as they now are, they furnish horribly dry readme-, but I have a notion that if their subjects were treated by me they would assume a phase of interest they never knew before. But I cannot get permissisu to try my hand. Only this week I wrote a beautiful and technical description of that barque’s nearly going ashore, but it was refused insertion. I am not in the habit of taking trouble for nothing, however, so I shall put it in here. This is it :—During the gale which blew yesterday, a fore-and-aft barque lying in the stream dragged so rapidly that, but for the prompt action taken by the steward, who was in command, she would have run aground in two or three days. The steward, seeing the danger which threatened his vessel, ordered the captain aloft to pass the garboard-streak through the mizzen hatchway, which had the immediate effect of stopping the leeway on the best bower halyards. The maintopjibboom was then stowed under the foresail hatchway, the backstay was spliced all over the deck, and the gallant steward congratulated himself that nothing more was needed for the safety of his vessel.”

The proprietors of the New Zealand “Bradshaw” have, to my mind, made a great mistake. I do not mean in their time-tables, or their letter-press generally. They have wilfully committed a far worse blunder than making trains run a mile a minute, or stop at the wrong places. They have got their work done at one printing office. That was a fatal mistake. They should have managed, at no matter what cost, to have got it done at all the printing offices in the colony, and then their publication would have received disinterested approbation from every newspaper in New Zealand. Messrs. Dalgleish and Reid have something yet to learn in their new business.

The Volunteer movement is an admirable n <. But something which happened to me n Wednesday night has convinced me that (benefits are not without alloy. One of the immigrants by the Herschel plays on the barrel organ, and whistles into the bargain. The connection between these facts and the Volunteer movement will be seen directly. The was playing away in Willisstreet on Wednesday evening, and a gentleman who is passionately fond of music stopped to listen to him. In five minutes the gentleman came hobbling into the Hew Zealand Times Office with a broken shin, two black eyes, and bumps all over his face and forehead. He wanted to write a letter to the paper about boys with guns, who had poked him in the eyes and otherwise abused him. His letter was refused, and it was plainly hinted to him that he was drunk. But just then a reporter came in, using language which he would not dare submit in writing to the editor, and explained that a cadet corps had been at drill, and its members, so soon as drill was over, passed an agreeable evening playing French Tig about the streets, and carrying their guns anyhow.

When opposition lines of steamers commenced running up and down the coast X naturally supposed that one line at least would show a deficiency in passenger traffic as compared with that obtained by the line which had all the traffic to itself for a long time. I was pleasantly disappointed then when I found that in fact each line showed an increase on the traffic of the old monopoly. It made me think that the patriotic people of the colony must have determined to go out of their way to

support the efforts for their benefit, ie passenger lists of each departing or arriving steamer continued to be as long as my arm. But I found out at last that these passenger lists were more apparent than real. rea in the paper one morning that my friend Brownjones had arrived in the Rauporaki, from Dunedin, on his way to Auckland. I rushed on board to embrace him, but could not find him, and was directed to apply at the agents, I did so, and was told that it was a mistake of the newspapers, which I easily believed, and would have departed satisfied only for a conversation which I heard going on between the purser and the clerk as I left the office. The clerk said to the purser, “ I wonder how that name got into the passenger list ?” The purser replied, “Well, you see, the Hoosawiyetheuoo that came in with us was full up to sleeping on the tables, and I was not going to be beat, so I just picked twenty names out of an old directory, slapped ’em down on a list, and gave it to the reporter. We’re not going to be beat for passengers, I can tell you.”