TOWN TALK.

Thames Star, Volume XVII, Issue 5168, 10 August 1885, Page 2

TOWN TALK.

(Feom our Auckland Cobeesponden p.)

In ancient times, when the Bible—that is to say, the Bible they had then—was read, or rather sung, in schools, I remember hearing a little allegory about a young person asking some relation, parent, or guardian for a piece of bread and getting in return a stone. I used to mentally conjure up a picture of his surprise, and wonder whether he heaved it back politely, or whether he attempted to keep up the farce by trying his molars upon it. Upon the whole, I remember I came to the con* elusion that my preceptor was palming off a bit of a yarn on me, and lhat the whole affair was just a take-in. Surely, thought I, such things could never be; iso I didn't think any more about the matter until last Tuesday evening, whea it dawned upon me that after all the old man might have been right.- I " happened in " at the Temperance Hall to hear of the unemployed (what pathos lies hid in that commonplace word). I saw there men—haggard, weary, broken-looking men, leaning on the form rails, their hands ,thrust into their, unkempt hair, their eager eyes gazing at the speakers, who one by one spoke of the impossibility of gaining permission—bare leave to live. Bread, in brief, was the question, asked by men whose earnestness came from deeper than their hearts—from their stomachs; men whose eloquence was not the result of classic lore, but the inspiration of an empty larder. Then came the answer, a perfect shower of verbal stones. They rattled adown the Hall until a gentleman, who goes down to posterity in the Star as an "Impatient Listener"—hitherto mute, inglorious—remarked, with the fervor, if not the elegance, of Dryden—

" Oh, stop this headlong- current of your goodness, It comes too fast upon a feeble soul." Messrs Sees and Duffua were the most generous with their stones—the farmer gentleman speaking condescendingly oon» coming Mr Henry George, even deigning to partly agree with him; the latter, learnedly and rapidly, about everything in general, and winding up with a wellrounded exhortation concerning nothing in particular. As- usual, the meeting closed with a resolution to "appeal to Parliament."

I Surely something is wrong. Where is the false entry that makes the balance of society come out wrong ? What is the miscalculation in the plan which makes the structure shakey ? What hand has struck the false note that renders Nature's harmony a chaotic discord? To think that men are here, that capital is here, that land is here, and yet the three factors cannot be conjoined in order to produce enough for the bare existence of these men. It is useless for people to hide their heads, ostrich-like, in the sand, to escape from this curse of national poverty which bos traced us even here. It must, sooner or later, be grappled with; it is My Sphinx question " which not to answer is to be destroyed." The argument should be made, However, not before starving men whoso hunger biasses them in favor of anything that is first offered, providing it *loohs like broad, drowniDg men who catch at straws ; but before the men and by the men who rale. I wonder—are there many of the men who sit in that wooden house at Wellington who realise the responsibility that rests with them.

What are the questions that are most generally asked of a candidate for Wellington ? Are they such as these—What are your views concerning this great land question ? How do you propose to legislate in order that the laws you shall make will provide for and protect both this and future generations? Or these—How mu,ch will you get for a.'road here, or a bridge there, or a railway at the other place ? I think the reader knows, and let him bear well in mind that the responsibility is not all with the candidate. Sines Edwin Arnold— B

"Ye suffer from yourselves, none else compels " Stronger than woe is will." '

It is rather strange that ia spite of the undoubted distress that prevails, the amusement-mongers hare no cause for complaint. Opera House, theatre, and local halls are all Weir patronised. The new sensation, "The Pearl Dirers," has

had a ftraiid reception. It is a "real pump and tabs" drama, tho scenery and accessories b.-ing exceptionally realistic. It is rather strange that any dramatic representation that contains anything unusually unpleasant, which in real life would be strenuously avoided, is generally the most sought after. This piece includes a wreck, a thunderstorm, and a Salvation Army. As regards the first two and last, as Milton said of Shakespeare, " The force of nature could no further ro,—to make a third, she joined the other two." Morbid indeed is the taste of the Auckland play* goer.