The Daily News. SATURDAY, JUNE 22, 1912. PICTURESQUE POLITICS.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LIV, Issue 306, 22 June 1912, Page 4

The Daily News. SATURDAY, JUNE 22, 1912. PICTURESQUE POLITICS.

In our quiet little way we are. rather disposed to think that our Dominion politics have an element of picturesqueness, though it is a little bit difficult to understand exactly where the suggestion comes from. It is on record that, to the horror of the House and the whole community, a West Coast member upon one occasion said "-damn" in a loud tone j of voice on the floor of the House, and was promptly called to order. We are referring, of course, to the West Coast of the South Island, for our own West Coast is far too circumspect to indulge in improprieties of this sort. Then, again, there was a pickle bottle incident, where a prominent Otago representative used this effective weapon as a striking argument in a dispute with a Minister of the Crown. Once more there is the historic story of how Parata, waking from a quiet slumber on his. bench in the House, found the now Postmaster-Gen-eral discoursing upon his favorite theme of unimproved values, and remarked stentorially "Good Ell!" The member for Christchurch South mistook the interjection as meaning a suggestion that he should seek seclusion in a warmer climate, and promptly challenged the Chairman of Committee. Nobody will ever forget how, after a whispered consultation with that arch-conspirator, Mr. T. Wilford, the gonial Maori member rose from his seat with a smile as wide as a piece of string, and remarked, "No, sir; I say 'Good Ell!' not 'Go fell.'" These little side line* are not always chronicled in a newspaper world that has to work at top speed during a furious session, but they are treasured by individual members and by that select and conservative organisation, the Press Gallery, which practically dictates to Parliament the why and wherefore of its every action. But these are mild high-lights in politics «empared with the pomp and eircumst»»ee which attend the election of a President for the American Republic. This fearful and wonderful operation extends over ft cool twelve months, and its various phases are as involved as the worm of an illicit still. Apparently nobody knows exactly what happens, for as our cablegrams told us yesterday, at the general Presidential Convention, although a thousand journalists were present, they found it impossible to follow the proceedings. They talk big in America, and Chicago—where the pigs come from—is apparently blessed with a public hall which writes its accommodation in acres and its attendance in thousands. This lordly palace, if we can gather any sense from the involved and intricate cables concerning the election, has been the scene of a political controversy that ought" to become historical. Politics in the strenuous continent arc, it seems, but poorly equipped without the accompaniment of brass bands, and megaphones, and other contributory noises. Nor iB it quite clear whether the new President is elected by

Bears, bludgcrs, negroes and bad men from Badville. By-and-bye we shall probably know who has been really elect-; cd President, but we shall never know why. The involved and intricate procedure necessary lor such an election vould puzzle a Philadelphia lawyer, and it really seems as if Bill and Cherokee •lira and the Eev. Mr. Smith and Lord Kuowswho, if they like to put their heads together and have the necessary financial backing, can appoint Brown or Jones President, in the face of the whole American nation. This is picturesque politics with a vengeance, but it "sure is" a trifle hardy where sensitive plants like ourselves are concerned. Our own system- of Mr. Mackenzie saying "I did" and Mr. Massey saying "You didn't," and the pair of them continuing in logical First Standard argument: "Did-didn't, did-didn't, did-didn't," to about four hundred places of decimals, is certainly much ' more understandable from the public point of view, and as it eliminates the element of graft it is probably of more ultimate benefit to the country. Politics is too interesting a subject to be allowed to fall flat, but there really seems to be another extreme where it can become too inflated. Twelve months of the American system, in allopathic doses, would be calculated to drive the average New Zealander to pray for a speedy realisation of the era predicted by Macauky, when he would be found sitting upon London Bridge gazing on the ruins of Westminster Abbey. That particular epoch, of course, would mean the end of politics on earth.