New Zealand Mutton in London.

South Canterbury Times, Issue 7062, 7 February 1893, Page 3

New Zealand Mutton in London.

An interviewer lately sought out a portly ' knight of the cleaver, which tamed oat to be tramps when once be had overcome a natural reluctance to reveal business eecrets. The interviewer is a trifle vulgar, bat the con* fusion of the retail butcher is both amusing and instructive, and should be produced in bis own words. This is how it runs s—- “ I does sell a little New Zealan’ stuff over the counter as Hinglish 5 bat wot’a the odds! Aian’tit good meat ? Ain’t it fresh, pure, ’olesome and palatable ?” He paused for breath at the end of this : long string of adjectives. 11 An* if we gives the public meat as is good '■ an’ agrees with ’em I ’olds we does our dooty by'em fair and square. True, 1 ain’t agoin’ to my as it doesn’t mean extry profit, 'cos it does. But ain’t a man intitled to git as much profit out of bis bisuess as he can, these ’ard times P” The speaker was evidently very much addicted to the interrogatory form of reply. •’I will say this for the Now Zealan’ mutton, an’ it shows, *ow the public like to 'are a genuine article, and that is—no piece as ever I sold for Hinglish ’as come back or lorst me a customer. That ses a good deal for the New Zealan’, hey ?” As he expected an answer, our represenfca* live was bound to admit it did. " ’Ow much do I sell ? Well, look for yourself: This is a pretty big stock of mat' ton, ain't it ?—wot yer sees around yer? Well, 90 per cent, o’ that is New Zealan’. This is New Zealan’ wot I am heeling now. . And the wretched man cut a long shred of raw amcton from a neighbouring joint, and positively-smiled as be s wallowed it. “ Lor’ bless yer, don’t think as Ido a big trade heither—not so so big as it . will be if Qprdi'gives'me strength to labour oh. ■. ' " Par bigger people lap* me , carry on this mercy little game,” he said, huskily, endeavouring to pull himself together. The thought of premature decay bad evidently unnerved 1 him. ” I ain’t doin’ the turnover yet as 1 thought I' should ; but the New Zealan’ - 'elps, an* I shall stick to ’er.” His voice failed and trembled: Disappoint* ment and despair were undoubtedly gnawing at his vitals. And then a strange thing happened ! Just as the tears were beginning to blur the vista of pendent carcases, and the man himself seemed tottering on the verge of nervous break up, a young woman entered the shop with a market basket on her arm, and brushing ' Contemptuously past an officious assistant, stated that she “ alius liked to see the boss.” "Hi, mister,’ she shouted to the blueeyed butcher, who had been our representative's vis-a-vis, “ I wants a leg of prime, juioy, Hinglish mutton. An* sharp’s the word, an’ no kid !” t Instantly this plaything of emotion was v himself again. A leg was taken down, exhibited to the customer, handled, appraised, bought, and taken away. e “ Another out 0’ colonial gone,” he said to a our representative, smiling capaciously. Then shaking the visitor’s band tenderly in fare- a well, he whispered in melodramatic accents, n " I trusts yer !” j