CURRENT TOPICS.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 478, 7 June 1890, Page 4

CURRENT TOPICS.

BY Z AMI EL. It seems the Benevolent Society is in imminent danger of death from a natural cause—want of money. People seem to have made up their minds that Government. bv the Charitable Aid Board, and the late’ Edward Costlcy, by his legacy, have done quite enough for the poor of Auckland. They have buttoned up their pockets, and go about with the idea that private benevolenco is not needed. Xu doing so, they labour under a delusion. There are many cases of deserving poverty, which can only be reached by the private exertions of the benevolent. The Benevolent Society has done much good in relie vine such cases, and is capable of doing much more.if the public will provide some of the sinews of war. That the Auckland public is not uncharitable, we have had several proofs of late. Let us hope that still another proof will be given by hearty support of this deserving, but somewhat poverty-stricken Society.

•** * . The discovery of what was believed to be part of the wreck of the ill-fated British warship Orpheus on the West Coast cannot but recall to old Aucklandors many memories of early colonial times, when the power of the Maori tribes had yet to be broken and the wealth of the country had not begun to be developed. The name of H.M.s. Orpheus brings back reminiscences of the old days when Auckland was garrisoned by hundreds of Her Majesty’s red coats, when numbers of British warships lay at anchor in the Waitemata, noble-looking “ wooden walls with little of the modern ironclad eyesore about them, their crews ready at a moment’s notice to land and join in the work of warfare. Those were stirring times, times that Auckland is not likely to see again. Some queer scenes were enacted in the town’s streets in those days.

It was not very long after the Orpheus disaster that a strong party of bluejackets marched up Shortland-street to a newspaper office, and compelled the wielder of the Archimedean lever of the day to issue an “ extra ” containing an abject apology for a published reflection on the courage of Briton’s sons of old Neptune, under the dire threat of pulling down to the ground the ramshackle edifice which then did duty as office. Old Onehunga residents will remember Captain Jenkins, the eccentric but popular commander of H.M.s. Miranda, and his genial ways. _lt is not generally known that Jenkins, wandering tbo streets of the Manukau village in undress, was compelled by a party of his own bluejackets to drink a pint of kerosene slightly flavourec| with water and whisky, under threat *ofl dropning him into theharbour, and how thdj luckless officer always kept his own counseT about that ignominious quarter-of-an-hour. The gallant sailor-boys had a great deal more liberty in those days than they would be allowed in these degenerate times.

And those same tars knew how to face danger and death bravely, too. Of those three hundred souls on board the old Orpheus, not a man thought of his own saiety, according to accounts of the day, until the Commodore gave the order for the men to save themselves by swimming. Who can forget, too, the story of the three enthusiastic cheers given as the men stood shoulder to shoulder in the sinking ship, prepared to face even the grim enemy death with a true British “Hurrah” on their lips? Then the navals distinguished themselves in the Waikato war ; in fact, it is allowed that in the earlier part of that campaign some signal reverses would have befallen the British arms had it nob been for the pluck of the sailors from the warships lying in Auckland. By the way, it will be interesting to see if this is really the Orpheus, and what comes out of the battered old hull on the ocean beach. Stories are told about the specie on board for the payment of the troops in Auckland, and though it is extremely unlikely that much is left in the ship’s shell, still, Micawber-like, I shall wait and see wliat turns up.

Every young married woman should be careful when in the company of_ women with greater experience of married life, not to be too demonstrative in her professions of belief in the possibility of conjugal happiness. All old married ladies profess total disbelief in married happiness. They are especially careful to give expression to this disbelief before the three-weoks’-old bride. A good instance of this tendency came by accident tinder my notice the other day. A young bride was expressing her belief to several other married ladies that marriage might not be a failure after all. A cynic smile showed on every face, and one said, “Ob, you’re young yet. Wait till you’ve been married a year or so: It won’t last.” “ But,” she said, “it lasted for over twenty years with my father and mother.” Lucky girl. Ic must be an inheritance. I wish I had inherited it. **« * * * ■it- *

My visit to the circus was by no means an unmixed pleasure. I like to see clever people do clever things, but I must confess that the sight of a younsrster just about in the first of his teens tying himself into a series of fantastic knots for the edification of a mixed audience of both sexes, has a tendency to send a cold shiver along my vertebral column, even without the aid of the cold southerly breeze which is customarily associated with this kind of shows. To my mind this contortion business is cruel, and ought to be made punishable by law, especially so far as it may relate to the employment of mere children -as circus performers. I reckon that if anyone had introduced a horse, dog, or any other domestic animal into the circus and tied its limb 3 and body into such apparently impossible complications, the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals would have been down upon the management like a thousand of bricks. •if w * * * How much more, then, should young children be protected from such barbarous treatment. What astonished me most was that thoughtful men and women, who hold good positions in society, can applaud an exhibition of this kind. I cannot do it, no matter how clever may be the performer, and no matter how easy the wonderful contortions may seem to be, for it requires no expert knowledge to show me that the exploit is painful to the performer, harmful to the body, and must have a disastrous effect on the latter years oi the life of any . who may be induced by ambition or otherwise to become a contortionist. .1 earnestly hope the day is not far off when auch painful exhibitions shall be prohibited under the severest penalties that the law can inflict. , , . .. ~ For people who look for it there is humour in everything—even an art exhibition. During the last week “ everybody as is anybody,” as the cockneys say, has been to soo tho pictures the Choral Hali» 0?

course we don’t all like the same things—it would be somewhat unfortunate if wo did—and the reasons given for admiring or disliking certain pictures by different people were sufficiently amusing. One of the most curious came from two pretty girls, who were wandering round diligently, if somewhat wearily. They are joined by a somewhat famous local artist, who says, “ How do you like my picture of W 1 ‘ “ Oh,” said tho girls, ‘‘isn’t it a square picture ?” “ Yes,” said the artist, a smile of gratified, vanity stealing over his compliment-expecting visage, “it is a square one.” “ Well—er —you mustn't mind, you know, of course wo think it nice enough, but both of us like oblong pictures best; long - shaped frames are much nicer.” With a smile they passed on to the next picture. Tho artist retired outside, where he appeared to be calling some lady in French pretty forcibly, judging from his gestures.

What means thisunusualactivityamongsb the members of the Auckland Ministers’ Association ? Hitherto, the principle which approves of frequent exchanges in the pulpits of our city and suburban churches has been pretty well confined to the Wesleyan persuasion, who never have any parson for more than three years without a change of pulpit. The arrangement has generally worked remarkably well, and its adoption by the Ministers’ Association, if only on trial for a day, is undoubtedly a step in the right direction. The best clergymen in the world and the most intelligent of congregations are bound to get rather well acquainted with each other after the lapse of a number- of years, and if the parson is not of the “drawing” order, his congregation is apt to become wofully bored with hearing the same old story told in the same old style, to the same old congregation Sunday after Sunday, two or three times daily,” without intermission for extended periods varying from three to twenty years, and over.

The experience of thousands,l venture to assert, is that after sitting under one for any number of years,, his style and voice assumes to them a peculiarly sedative character which is so irrestible that it becomes almost impossible to keep the mind concentrated on the subject. Given an exchange of parsons, however,and the most lethargic of the congregation are compelled to listen to his utterances,if only out of curiosity, and an attentive congregation having been secured, half the battle is won. I thoroughly approve of the system of having a regular exchange of pulpits, and I hope the Ministers’ Association will continue to carx’y on that which has been so well begun.

* the benefit football ' .’MPrarday attradted a good deal provided plenty of arnusegrand stand. He was evidently oSa ! of those curioue, and happily now nearly extinct animdlS,’'“yclept the lady-killer;;: : He had come out with the intention of feminine carnage, and his makeup was of the mostasbonishingly stupendous character. If only for the time, pains, and money that must have been expended to produce such a truly” surprising and magnificent result, he deserved to be looked on with sincere and passionate admiration. He was unique. He wasn’t a very young man by any means—they have the disease, but rarely get it so bad as this creature had it. A somewhat pimply face, a head covered with sandy hair, and a large, heavily-set body made up the real part of him. But it was his adornments and his charming manner that endeared him to all hearts.

His suit was greyey in colour and of most alarming pattern, his moustache so waxed that it stuck out in huge spikes each side of his face, and a buttonhole the size of a welldeveloped caulifiowet —more or less—flamed in his waistcoat. His watch chain would have moored a small steamer comfortably, and several people felt faint after catching a glimpse of his necktie. And didn’t the amiable fellow know of the attention he was exciting,and didn’t it please him ! He lolled across one of the best front seats, taking room enough for a brace of householders and their families, and turned from side to side so that everyone might have an equal chance of admiring his incomparable charm and manners. He turned round and stared in girls’ faces till their attendant swains were so carried away by their admiration of his conduct that they seemed in danger of going for him bodily. After a bit when the game became exciting the creature found that he was not getting that amount of public examination he deserved, so he drew forth a large and vindictive-looking pipe, and loading it with some compound almost as odious as himself, deliberately puffed the foul-smelling smoke in every direction. This aroused such an amount of enthusiasm amongst the young men, that he seemed to think discretion the better part of valour, and retired to shed the light of his presence on the more re-_ generate crowd outside. *** * * * Most male and all female Aucklanders tramping down to their “ daily bread ” workshops last Monday were startled to see bills stuck on all the telegraph posts bearing the soul-scaring words, “Murder, £2OO reward !” Having glanced down it, their startled expression generally changed to one of unmitigated self-disgust. They had been taken in by a clever advertisement. Zamiel has heard, never mind how, something of posting of those same bills. ’Twas on Sunday, towards the witching hour of midnight, when a man with a sepulchral smile and a large ulster issued out of a well-known hostelry, not a hundred miles from Queen-street. His tightly-curled moustache and the flashing eye betrayed that he had some sinister object in being abroad so near Monday morning. He crept quietly down the street until be reached a telegraph post, where he eased up, and extracted a bulky roll of papers from his pocket. Selecting one, he began hasti y and nervously to stick it on the post. But the lynx-eye of the law (which never sleeps), in the person of a policeman, was on his track. A burly form approached from behind, and, tapping the mysterious one on the shoulder, observed, “ This here will have to stop. ”

With a ghastly, soul-revolting grin, the ulstered figure turned and demanded, “ What will have to stop ?” “ This stickin’ of yer bills on these here posts,” returned the guardian of the law. “ Very well,” returned the figure, with awful distinctness, “ I’ll stop when I get to the end of the wharf.” “I was told,” said the bobby, “ to watch anyone sticking bills on these posts.” “ All right,” answered the Wcked one, “ come and watch me stick this one on the next post ; there’s no extra charge.” “You’ll find there will be a charge,” stoutly declared the undaunted and lionheart policeman. “I will take you in chargeand he laughed sardonically at his own misplaced humour. The muffled man saw it was no time for trifling. Taking the guardian of law and.order by the hand,

he murmured something in his ear. “ Great Scott!” shouted the burly one. “ Exactly so !” returned the stranger. There was a whispered consultation, and the bill-sticker glided noiselessly towards the wharf while the incorruptible law moved ofl up the street whistling blithely. A good story is told of a couple of friends returning from a convivial gathering this week at a rather early hour. The night was dark and the way lonely. When halfway home they were attacked by two midnight ruffians, and a desperate encounter ended in the assailants being beaten off. Of course, the friends compared notes when they had somewhat recovered from the shock, l “ You should have seen me,” said one. “ 1 managed to get hold of the ugly chap with the buck teeth and carroty hair, and by Jove I nearly strangled the little beggar ! Look ! I got part of his scarf in my hands !” The other brave fellow put his hands up to his neck, and said, “ For God’s sake say nothing about this —that a my scarfs you’ve got in your hands. Next!

Verily, “La Grippe” has a deal to answer for, and although the epidemic has undoubtedly been the cause of much inconvenience and annoyance in the home circle.it has by far played more havoc with business arrangements. In fact, city men generally have been “at sixes and at sevens” during the past week nursing their wrath at the absence of their factotums, while the dear chappies themselves have probably been making capital out of that ’orrid idfluedza-ka-chow ! ker-chee !! and enjoying themselves without stint.

Take a solitary instance that occurred in a prominent city counting-house during the first week of the present month. . A wellknown city magnate dropped into his neatly-appointed sanctum at the usual hour in the morning, only to find the office boy standing on his head for want of something better to do, balancing “ the boss’s ” inkstand on his left foot. Inquiries elicited the fact that the clerks, Messrs Korjones, Kerbrown, and Kersmith, were suffering from “That ’orrid idfluedsa, sir! And please, sir, I think as 'ow I gob it myself, sir! which I ’as pains ’arf way down my blessed back, sir, and a creepy sensation in my jints, sir, and I thinks as ow 111 go home.” And home the boy accordingly travelled, leaving the magnate somewhat in a quandary.

Without his retainers his occupation was gone. Ah ! A happy thought. Why nob go up to Kerobinson’s at Hamilton, and have a day’s shooting ? Good shot! and away he travelled, kicking over the office stool and the ditto cat in his hurry to. catch the train. He was soon in the field with his favourite double-barrelled shooting, iron, and was deeply sympathising with his sick clerks who, he imagined, were, no doubt, swathed in blankets, etc., when —whir-r r ! a “regular beauty” of a pheasant rose, and - bang ! bang ! went both barrels, followed by another discharge of powder and shot, and a fow expletives from the hedge near. “ That was my bird, you old duffer !” The voice was strangely familiar. “ Have a pot shotathim, Jim !” This was another strangely familiar baritone. “A man of his age ought to know better !” This was a third voice, and looking round in the direction, the city magnate was perfectly “ flabbergasted ” to find his faithful retainers —Messrs Kerbrown, Kerjones and Kersmith—looking at him with mingled, not to say miscellaneous expressions of countenance. The explanations that followed may have been satisfactory, or they may not have been so ; I don't know myself—but I do know that the magnate got the pheasant and I believe the sportive clerks got the 3ack.

But “this idfluedza” is a terrible visitation ! It seems to be no respecter of persons, and treats rich and poor with the same scant courtesy. It just knocks ! and you have to let it in. Once in, it resembles a poor relative; it is a very hard job to get it out. You possess your soul in patience for what seems to you an unconscionable time ; you bear with it, you humour it, you keep a stiff upper lip, nay, you smile a sickly sort of smile, and just as you fancy it is about to take its departure and relieve you somewhat, this incubus settles down in some other part of your well-ordered establishment, and commences de novo to tease you with its many blandishments. The many achesand pains—commencing at the hair and ending at the big toe, with double distilled aches in the small of the back, and ditto, ditto in the limbs—would be exquisite if they were not excruciating. Although many patients have confided to me exactly wheie the pains started, and “the very best remedy in the world for this idfluedza,” they have all combined in asseverating that the epidemic is accompanied with a total depression of spirits. As one man quaintly remarked when he was suffering a recovery : “lean just imagine how a criminal feels the morning of his execution.” I say that, under these circumstances, we should almost be thankful to the standing depression, which won’t go itself, but keeps us constantly on the move.

One reads some amusing things in the correspondence columns of the exchanges, and the following little excerpt from a Dunedin paper has more than a local interest and is too good to be lost: “The Government runs things generally with a blissful disregard of anything save the one object in view. Times and seasons matter nought. The mantle of the Government has fallen on the Railway Commissioners in the matter of the excursions, I fancy. The other day I saw an excursion ticket on which was printed in bold black type: * Available for Feb. 28 and 29.’ What does it matter to a Railway Commissioner that owing to a freak of ‘ 6ome person in authority,’ February has only twenty-eight days as a rule, and that 1890 is not a leap year? Not a groat. The only thing that brought the little error home to the Commissioners was when some one pointed out that if the ticket was available from February 28th to February 29fch it must of necessity be available for two years—from February 27th, 1890, to February 29th, 1892, for no Feoruary 29th occurs till then. They grasped the point—--1 hope the operation did not hurt themand set a junior to writing ‘ March Ist ’ in the place of February 29.”