THISTLEDOWN.

Te Aroha News, Volume XII, Issue 1784, 2 November 1895, Page 2

THISTLEDOWN.

“ A man may jest and toll the truth.” ' —Horace.

As I think I have remarked once before a prospector’s lot is not altogether a happy one, but as a rule he takes the frowns and the smiles of fate with an even heart-beat and gets perhaps as much enjoyment out of life as the best of us. Bad weather, bad tracks, bad luck, bad grub and wrestlings with bush lawers and supplejacks, he can stand with an occasional growl, but the wild beasts of foreign climes he draws the line at. Not long ago and not a hundred miles from here a noted prospecter was walking quietly home with dish on his back and his pick over his shouider when he heard a thump-a-tkump, dump-a,-dump,-be-hind him, careless wonder grew at last to a cute apprehension as the sound cont'mulid; and grew nearer and more distinct. His quickened, uneaven pace and his . hasty glances over his shoulder betrayed his unquiet mind. The time and place ware eerie and perhaps he was a cousin Jack and knew of the strange guomes, trolks, and other fairies who guard the treasures of the under-ground world, at last round the comer it came, horror of horrows it must be the Pooka, at least, with a yell, he flung his pick .down the gully and down the road he went at a pace which would shame the new J. engine, and quite put in the back ground T. G’s. famous record hundred yards before the bullock at Taupiri- I’ve seen people run at “West End Pair for cheeses— I’ve seen ladies run at Bow Pair for chemise—At Greenwich Fair twenty men run for a hat, and one from a Bailiff much faster than that; at football I’ve seen lads run ’after the bladder—l’ve seen Irish bricklayers run up a ladder—l’ve seen little boys run away from a cane—l’ve seen (that; is read of) good running in Spain; but I never did read of or witness such speed as Willian exerted that evening—lndeed all I have ever heard of boys, women or men, falls far short of Bill as ran down the glen. Pear lent him wings and ten feet up a tree he went at a bound, close at his heels was the creature and there it stopped at the foot of the tree. For a quarter of an hour he clung convulsively to his limit, when the owner of his besieger appears, pats it on the head and calmly remarks ‘ Hallo Bill, what brings you up the tree ?’ Bill’s language was frequent and free and is still so wheu he is reminded of the Major and his pet Kangaroo. ,

The poetical effusion of our parliamentary representatives do not as a rule reach even the level of the Spring poet. C’utha Mackenzie, hovever, has however produced a ‘pome’ which, whatever its other merits, will form an effective substitute for the popular Kautzo which cheers our sailors when hauling on the mainbrace while significiently suggesting to * the old man.’ the advisability of splicing the mainbrace. With characteristic modesty he attributes its composition to the poet laureate of the House, Mr E. M. Smith:— Who has his hands as white as snow; Random Reeves, the ranter O And who could toil ne’er undergo? vVRandom Reeves the ranter 0! . Yet who’d teach you how to reap a crop. To build a ship or firewood chop, Or when or where to shut your shops ? Random Reever the ranter O!

Random Reeves the ranter O ! Our witty, dear enchamber O! Come let us quaff A shandy-gall To Random Reeves the ranter'O ! Who to Melbourne gay did go j Rambling Reeves the rover, Q ! Who burned with socialises glad ? Rambling Reeves the rover, O ! Who, socialistic overproof, Came back reduced, with stealthy hoof And tapered down to shun reproof j Random Reeves the rover, O ! Our wandering fright enchanter O! So full of merry banter, O ! Once more, dear chaps. With no heel-taps To Random Reeves the rover, 0 ! 0 0 0 O Every now and then we read of fatal accidents from people mistaking arsenic for taking powder or foi. carbonate of soda. A more laughable mistake was that of Jim Keogh. He had bought a cow at the Minister fair, but as luck would have, it. of a Protestant—His wife had no liking for heretiq butter, so says she, 4 Run into the house Shanween as thore and fetch me out the holy wather and we’ll take the Protestant devil out of the baste/ Shanween obeyed, as he thought, but instead of the holy water fetched a bottle of vitriol, which, without more ado, his better half promptly emptied on the unlucky cow. 4 Shure, its mighty hard to make the devil let go his own' was the pious dame’s remarks as the scarified beast lashed out in all directions. N ** * * Shanween, or as he was popularly called Cleoghaun,—please excuse my spelling if wrong—had been by his own account a notable * wrasttler ’ and shillelagh man in his youth, and was still the wonder of admiring youths who listened to his overtruthful tales at every wake. I give you one, but unfortunately not in his impressive style. He was returning from a fair and had got some two or three miles out of the town when he fancied he heard something which made him stop. 4 After listening a minute I recognised the sound of my cousins’Strolles bating, the Egans out of the town. I turned to run to thiir help when I wondered to see my stocking down. I was in my small clothes and the° excitement had bust my knee buttons, and in another moment if I had not run to their help my muscles would have exploded with the quiver I was in. I ran to the town, I bruk a leg from a huxler’s stall, cut a lane I through the t crowd to my cousins and we ! bet the Egans clane out of the town.’ laptx. 1