THE MAN OF THE PERIOD.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume II, Issue 120, 10 January 1874, Page 2

THE MAN OF THE PERIOD.

(by an intelligent scamp.) “ Lone, wild, and strange, I stand alike exempt From all affection and all contempt.” —Byron. Having in a previous article introduced myself to the inhabitants of Poverty Bay, and my talents being sufficiently “Heralded” forth to an enlightened public, I will tell you, fellow residents, how I spent my Christmas. Yes.' lots of “gatter” and no pay. Such a happy Christmas I have not spent for many a day; not since my youthful career on board the whaler, a little incident in my life to which I" have already brought your attention. I was overwhelmed with invitations, as my society is indispensable to the celebrities of the community. ~ I could not oblige all my friends at once, there-

fore I hardly knew which to accept, aud being of rather a bashful nature (proofs of which I have already given) I thought I would accept wine Lust’s invitation to partake of his Christmas cheer at the “ Pig and Whistle.” Ah, I thought, here is a glorious chance to pick up scraps for the Poverty Bay “ Dishcloth/’ —so soun to astound the world, as well as to give a specimen of my “Heraldry” and post - prandial speeches. I knew I should be called upon to propose the usual toasts, which would enable me to introduce occasional smatterings of the “ Press” of “ inn ate” eloquence which I have sucked from the brains of bigger men than myself. Ah ! its a good job my eloquence was “inn born,” (that’s the meaning, you know, of “ inn ate”), for it gave me an opportunity of early acquiring correct views of “ public" life, wuich, 1 find, at an advanced age, stand me in good stead of the education which (like the country which first beheld this Scamp) my parents saw good reasons for wittiholding from me. I will pass over the dinner, which was par excellence —cheap, at any rate; and even suited my fastidious palate. Ah ! I mentally ejaculated, now I am iu my glory, and despite my anxiousness to commence the “ lick spout” business, I could not help smacking my lips at the sight of the decanters. After imbibing until I thought my nerves were sufficiently braced, I commenced, and would you believe it P I was the only one who appreciated what I said. No; it did not wash. My eloquence failed to please the company, so I cried a “ go." Dissatisfied co-patronizers of “free trade” in Christmas dinners ! What did they want? I was not to be “bluffed,” so I thought I would display my powers as a vocilisc. I can sing, but my great powers lie in tragedy; the company did not think so, for the wind up was more like a Farce. What a glorious thing to be “ A Man of the Period” thought I. Having once belonged to a Ministrel Troupe, although in a menial position, I fancy myself a second Sims Beeves ; therefore I doubted not I should make a complete “ hit,” but to my horror, this soulless lot of gratuitous plum-pudding staffers, compared my voice to a cracked frying pan, so I retired (as steadily as I could) to soothe my wounded feelings in quietude. I have lately been studying “ Heraldry,” but it don’t seem to gee. You know the familiar line—- “ Things are not what they seem.”

Well, that’s the case with me (that is, the Dishcloth) just now, and I am afraid if this state of things last we shall all be non est some fine morning. But somehow I. do not “ take” anywhere for long ; and shall soon have to “jack up,” as “Heraldic” devices I am afraid won’t pay in this small place. He, fellow hangers on, is the only thing we wait for. By the bye, did you see what a “ buster” we gave this article in our first production ?—(Communicated.)