Random Notes

Southern Cross, Volume 1, Issue 35, 25 November 1893, Page 9

Random Notes

A somewhat irascible Scot takes me to task over Swift’s missing word problem. He, in all seriousness, assures me that the Dean of St. Patrick had neither Stout nor Seddon in view, but his friend Arbuthnot, as the paragon of all virtues, cardinal and other. My friend, taking pity on my ignorance, gives me a long account of his fellow-countryman, whose wit meets with very considerable laudation at his hands. I cannot find rc*n for his lengthy communication on the subject. I may, howevei’, assure my Scottish friend that I was not answering an “ exam.” paper, as he calls it, and consequently could allow myself to indulge in a joke, which joke evidently required the “ surgical operation ”• in the case of my correspondent. Arbuthnot, I believe, was a wit, and a Scotchman to boot, but then “he had been caught yoxing,” which circumstance, according to Sydney Smith’s dictum, accounts for much which otherwise would prove utterly inexplicable in Arbnthnot’s career. Arbuthnot was the author, I believe, of a treatise which, at the present juncture, would prove a mine of money to any publisher who chose to repi’oduce it — “ The Art of Political Lying.” It is many years since I had an opportunity of perusing that work, but to-day, as in his own time, Arbuthnot could find abundant material from which to develop his system. How suitable for our colonial system of polities his treatise would prove my readers may learn from Ai’buthnot’s outline of chapter 7 of his work, which is as follows : —“ 1 his chapter is wholly taken up in an enquiry which of the two parties is the greatest ai'tist in political lying. He owns sometimes the one party and sometimes the other is better believed, but that they have both very great geniuses among them He attributes the ill success of either party to their glutting the market and retailing too much of a bad commodity at once* Where there is too great a quantity of worms

it is hard to catch gudgeons!! He proposes a scheme which indeed seems to be sqmewhat chimerical. It amounts to this —That thb party should agree to vent r no thing but the truth for three months together, which will give them credit for. six months’ lying afterwards. He owns that he believes it almost impossible to find fit persons to execute this scheme !

Ido not know how it is, but, like the spring,: the advent of election times draws forth the hibernating poetic (?) faculties of our amateur poet, just as an early glimpse of sunshine calls out the blue-bottle with his familiar but exasperating hum ! He, the poet, not the blue bottle, has been buzzing about my ears this last week, and were I to attempt to place all the communications received, I fear the editor woidd have something plain to say upon the subject. That my readers, however, may judge of the amount of talent the approaching elections hive called forth, I cull one or two choice specimens, bub I must preface these poetical productions with the statement that Ido not hold myself responsible for the views expressed :

HO. I. A HEW ELECTIOH BALLAD. (To the tune of “ Hever count your chicks before they hatch out!”) Ye electors of sedate Invercargill, Listen ye to the story that I troll ! Show your sense and your wit are so great still, And put Hatch at the top of the poll ! Go ye not far to sea to seet seal-skins, Hor make petitions to Parliament your gaol, Refrain from all personal allusions, And put Hatch at the top of the Poll! Who pours oil on the wild, troubled waters? Who his tongue knows well how to control ? Why he, the beloved of the electors, Who’ll put Hatch at the top of the Poll! See! the “Kelly gang” muster their numbers, And to vote in battalions they roll ! But on We’nesday they’ll wake from their slumbers, And find Hatch at the top (?) of the poll! No 11. A LABOUR LAY. (Hot fully hatched out.) Who last election straight was sent By In’gill up to Parliament On Labour legislation bent ? Jim Kelly. Who proved a member tried and true, Whose Liberalism is true blue ? Why give our member what is due— Jim Kt i’y. * * * # Who, Tuesday next, will top the poll, Though Hatch his wandering tongue control ? Why,—sure as I’m a living soul— Jim Kelly. No. 111. THE SOLILOQUY Of a puzzled Mataura elector. To vote or not to vote ; that is the question ! Whether ’tis nobler now my vote to lose, With right of franchise in the time to come, Or, voting, send a man to Parliament We do not love, or send a Liberal Whose views maybe a trifle shaky? Our own G.F. has been our member true For nine long years, yet now we sigh for change,— But change for what ? Ay, there’s the rub That makes our voting thus so troublesome. For which to choose upon the Lib’ral side Requires more wit than man is gifted with ! Shall, then, McHab,the “ Social Liberal Pest ” Secure our vote, or he, in rabbits skilled And kindred topics deeply learned and famed, Who doth his brother Liberal roundly charge With wandering from the narrow paths of truth ? Thus “ party ” doth make cowards of us all, And make us rather choose the man we know Than fly to others that we know not of. So, Tuesday next, I’ll vote I know not how, But hope Mataura yet will send a man Whose cigarette will perfume those high halls Where sapient legislators frame new laws To guide our feet ’midst party’s mazy paths. Yox.