THE MAN OF THE PERIOD.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume II, Issue 116, 24 December 1873, Page 3

THE MAN OF THE PERIOD.

(by an intelligent scamp.) Fellow residents of this thriving district-, —I am but a new arrival in the Bay, therefore my talents are unknown. But although a new arrival, I am better known than trusted. My character preceded me. Fellow citizens, I write ’cause I am just the man you require; in fact I shall be the salvation of the home of your adoption. To tell you my past career—past never to return — I am agentleman : amanofhonor. lamdescended by a long train of noble blood, from the noblest ancestry, William the Conqueror is modern compared with my patriarchal history. Since I have been here I have mixed with all classes, and taken a social glass with the celebrities in the community, which I do not (and I hope you will not) consider derogatory to my exalted position. I am evidently of noble descent; but of what country my parents are reticent on, perhaps not caring to wound my feelings. My oratorical talents predominate, especially in the touting line. Why send to America for a manager for the Oil Springs when I reside in your midst ? Why take the trouble to import a live Editor from another province when I am here. My soul melts with unction! Your local company is capable of supplying the whole universe with petroleum and kerosene, but only under my direction and influence. I have offered my services at a nominal salary, and if good at nothing else but “blowing.” my presumption will carry me through, possibly into grief, but “ nothing venture, nothing have.” My abilities are unknown ; and, therefore, unappreciated ; but, although at present hid under a bushel (in the shape of a large hat, to make myself conspicuous) they only await a favorable opportunity to “ Herald” them forth to an anxious and expectant public. *• Public!” Oh, what glorious recollections come over my beer-besotted soul at the mention of thy name I Ah, there’s virtue in me there, when, surrounded by an admiring multitude of loafers, I melt my bottom dollar in liquid explanation of the great secret and object of my life. “ Bottom dollar,” did I say ? Aye, and more too, and this reminds me of at least one unpleasant private hint I have had from a celebrated “ pub,” to be just before I’m generous ; but the “ blowing” business is nearly run out (as well as the cash.) I am established now as a man of mark, and as I know my numerous friends would wish to see in print the record of a few incidents of my early life, I will recount them here. I commenced my career on board a whaler at the early age of 14 summers, and, with my affable ways, was the idol of the ship’s company. I was destined to rise to an exalted position in this world of strife (as you see) ; and have now the gratification of enjoying—what my talents aspire to and deserve—a social glass with all classes of the community. Adversity, they say, is kind, and exemplifies its affection by introducing us to many strange bedfellows. Thus from “ Jemmy Ducks,” I became a “ Devil.” When on board our friend, the whaler, I fancied myself Captain, and after various buffetings (a la «t. Paul—but the simile must not be considered profane) I was dubbed “ Knight of the Composition Pot.” I thought I was a real live Editor—although in disguise. But true merit is not easily discovered. Mine wasn’t, which makes the aphorism a reliable one to quote. Looking back, however, on the changeful past, I must say I have had lots of ups and downs, more of the latter, but that was my misfortune—l won’t say it was a virtue —but, certainly ’twan’t a fault. I flatter myself I am well versed in French and Latin, in feet so learned that in discoursing with friends over a social glass,' I cannot but introduce my high-flown quotations,'lest my abilities in that respect should be unnoticed. I am self conceited, butthat is. many good man’s failing, and as

food men are scarce, I must be a little egotistical, was never great in small things— i.e. (this stands, as you know, for id estj speaking in terms of erudition, maximusin minimis, therefore I jumped to the case at once. I don’t mean the case you meet with in Lindlay Murray and other school books, for these involved a degree of nicety far beneath the promptings of my superficial genius. I had heard (I think ’tis among my fo’castle reminiscences), a fable about a Frog attempting to become an Ox, and that the “blowing” necessary to increase the size of the former, caused him to “ bust up” altogether. I remember, too, an old rhyme my grandmother used to repeat to me —when she taught me to suck eggs—commencing—

“ Weak is the head that is not able “ To gather wisdom from a fable.” And I recollect now that my friends have always said, when I used to repeat the fable to them, that “ I would never become an Editor.” I have, through my own exertions, raised myself to my present position in poverty (Bay). I confess to have had some experience as a journalist. I used to “ Advertise” on the cheap some years ago down South, but that didn’t pay. My partner was too cute for me, he was, and we displayed our generalship by a masterly retreat, losing nil—that’s Latin for “ nothing” (entre nous, French : inter nos, Latin : these mean “ between ourselves,”) we had nothing to lose, so we cleared out with a pretty good stock of whitewash still on hand. But, my friends’ prophecy was correct. I never have been an Editor. I was a proprietor once, but people said I couldn’t write, so I “ jacked up” in disgust. Since then I have been manager, “ having men under me,” which is the grandest thing out; although, sometimes, they succeeded better in managing me. lam now on “ familiar terms” with myself and a man who is an Editor, and to be seen in his company is the next best thing to being dubbed an Editor one’s self. But you cannot think how business bores me. It is a heavy drag upon my intellect; and I find relief only at the close of day when I air my importance at the “ Pig and Whistle,” by assuming virtues which I know I do not possess. —(Communicated.)