Random Notes

Southern Cross, Volume 1, Issue 25, 16 September 1893, Page 9

Random Notes

When I gave room last week to the latest production of Southland’s' poetic (?) muse, I looked for a short period of relaxation. But, no ! For when early this week I opened out my usual budget of correspondence, the advent of another heavy parcel warned me that the approach of Spring was producing the usual result in the general awakening of the rural muse. On opening the suspicious envelope, however, my disgust changed to surprise. Shade of Horace ! Sapphics !! Our poets are improving, when they seek the cool shade of the Latin classics for inspiration. Though I fear that the exact Horace, so fastidious in his rhythms, would feel inclined to condemn not a few of my contributor’s lines for weakness in the feet, and though there are traces of mixture of metaphors in the production, still my admiration for him who is the subject of these verses leads me to give them due publicity.

AD T. BUXTONIUM

Maker of <d a y bricks, dost thou hear the shouting ? Seest thou advancing Prohibition’s banners ? Seize then thy goose-quill, thy always willing friend, and Write to the papers. Letters write columns long, such as thou art wont to, — Knock all thine adversaries right into a cocked hat; Pile it on, hot and strong, let them feel your weight, and Give them no quarter. “ Fairplay ” and Bussell, thy confessed opponents, Need but to see thee to tremble at thy prowess— Send thou then upon them one well-directed broadside Bight from thy watch-tower Hark to the loud report! Their ranks are in confusion. The enemy, retreating, seek Grantley woods for shelter. Follow up thy victory, do not spare the vanquished— Spear them like eels, sir. Praise to thee, Buxton! our beloved Beformer. Power to thy quill, thou noble censor morwm ! Long may thy shooting maintain thy reputation, Makarewa’s Gunner! It is quite refreshing to find one so enthusiastic in his admiration as the writer of the foregping shows himself to be. In my own humble way I endeavour to emulate the example of Southland’s own sage, whose advice and reprehension are so often gratuitously given for the improvement of us all. Some there are who sneer (rash mortals that they are!), but the noble-minded can always afford to be generous ! The subject of the above poetic eulogium can afford to smile at the dogs snarling in the manger, for he knows that he, as truly as a well-known hero of modern fiction, can say—“ I am a practical man with a place in the world, and when I leave it there will be a hole that will be felt , just as when a molar is removed from the jaw.” Here, in Invercargill, we take things political generally very quietly. If we want uproarious meetings we must wend our way Dunedinwards. Even upon the great and burning question of Prohibition we do not give ourselves up to intemperate raving upon the public. platform on either side. The “ raving ” we keep for the columns of our daily press ! In Dunedin they are nothing if not entirely “ up to date ” in these fin-de-siecle days. Of the truth of this statement I furnished evidence last week in commenting upon the latest political gathering in Dunedin. More recently a certain “Temperance and Prohibition” lecturer has been adding to the truth of my remark. I have a hazy recollection of a certain Collins who lectured on science, philosophy, and all the ologies during the halcyon Lyceum days. Is this “ Temperance and Prohibition ” lecturer the same Collins, or another of the same kidney ? His method of publishing his title seems very like sailing under false colours, as, from the published reports of his meetings, he seems to warrant the insertion of the little prefix anti before each of the terms which qualify his title—lecturer. This little peculiarity of Mr Collins’ is neither here nor there, however, when we consider the fact that he, like the newspapers which so generously commissioned Mr Stringer of lengthy report renown, is actuated by the principles of purest philanthropy! At a somewhat rowdy meeting in the Dunedin City Hall on Thursday of last week, Mr W. W. Collins, replying to his critic, Mr A. S. Adams, gave clear proof of his possessing in his heart an inexhaustible spring of the milk of human kindness. He (Mr C.) confessed to having been offered some time ago the position of paid lecturer by the Licensed Victuallers. This, however, his temperance principles constrained him to reject. Now, however, at his own proper cost in the way of advertising, hall rent, &c,, he advocates the Victuallers’position, though he says, “ not in the interests of the Licensed Victuallers.” Almost, at the same moment, however, Mr C. made the somewhat remarkable statement that “ he had not the slightest idea ” whether the expenses of his meeting were paid by those disinterested citizens or not. This utterance, the reporters tell us, called forth .“ laughter and applause !” The question might well be asked, who pays the expenses

of victuallers’ advocates ? The meeting, we are told, broke up in confusion, and that word, I am inclined to think, adequately describes the condition of the minds of his audience as the moving principle of Mr Collins’ actions.

There is one name in the N.Z. newspaper press which carries weight, viz,, Civis, the immortal writer of Passing Notes ! Civis the wise, the urbane, and the original! How many thousands look anxiously forward to his weekly utterances, combining, as they do, the wisdom of the serpent and the harmle '.sness of the dove ! But Civis sometimes nods, as did also the great Homer, and last week our Colonial Aristarchus furnished an illustration in proof thereof. Some two or three weeks ago I allowed myself to give a few lines descriptive of football as played in the Emerald Isle.’ What was my surprise, then, last week, to find that the great Givis had used my humble contribution as a peg on which to hang a Passing Note. Some acknowledgment ought to have been made, though, for among pressmen, as among thieves, we ought to find some little honour. The publication of the above-mentioned note, however, I feel constrained to accept as an approving smile from the celebrated cynic, and in my more humble way go on rejoicing in the approbation of our great but inscrutable guide and philosopher. Vox.