UNGODLY REMUERA.

Observer, Volume 4, Issue 85, 29 April 1882, Page 99

UNGODLY REMUERA.

There is woe among the jam tarts of Remuera, and some of the stalwart aristocrats, of that select region are preparing to go for the scalp of the Rev. G-. B. Monro, the Presbyterian minister of the district. That gentleman has taken up the subject of church attendance and has delivered a jeremiad on the sinf ulness of this city and suburbs in general and Bemuera in particular. He finds that only 12£ per cent., of the residents of Remuera are church-goers, and he confidently declares that nine-tenths of the people who absent themselves from the tabernacle are literally dwelling in tents of sin. In other words, they are spending their Sundays in drinking, "boosing," card-playing, or in sleeping off the effects of Saturday night's indulgence. The other one-tenth he supposes to be engaged in reading the works of Bishop Colenso, Darwin, and Tom Paine. The bracketing of these three names calls to mind the form of message adopted by General Suwarrow when fighting the battles of the infamous Empress Katherine of Russia, which Byron satirises thus : — ■ " Praise to God and to the Empress " (Powers Eternal! such names mingled) "Isnmel's ours!" Thanks to Bishop Colenso and Tom Paine for the empty pews in the Eemuera churches ! We hardly think the aristocratic Eemuereans deserve this imputation, though we know sufficient of the Sunday habits of some of them to make any Presbyterian's hair stand on end. There is for instance, a decent Scotchman (a jam tart, remember) who spends his Sabbaths in fencing, wheeling manure in a barrow, &c, while another wellknown house in the district is a regular rendezvous for those wishing a quiet flutter at " Nap," varied with a game at " lawn-tennis." But these are of course, people without the fold. What is to be said of the large number of Mr Monro's own members and adherents who confessedly do not attend on his ministrations ? It is sad to think that nine-tenths of these should be confirmed topers, and that even one-tenth should be debased by Darwin and Colenso's pernicious doctrines ! There is certainly " something rotten " in Remuera, and particularly in her moral agencies, when such a state of things exists.

A HORRIBLE TALE. " For oh, it is such an 'orrible tale, I'm sure 'twill make your cheek turn pale." — Old Song. There was a thrilling, hair-raising sensation at Hokianga the other day, which formed a pleasingrelief to the eternal Maori " drunks," war whoops, and whirr of the circular saw. An ingenious lady, who has been for some time past in fear of being burgled, devised a machine to shoot any unwelcome visitors, by rigging up a loaded gun against the door, with an apparatus attached to the trigger. It happened, however, that the house was infested with rodents, and on the night in question a rat, being closely pursued by the torn cat, sought refuge from certain death by climbing up the barrel o*f the gun. The cat* felt awfully disgusted at being served such a mean trick, and tried to investigate the mysterious disappearance of the prey. Espying the rat perched on the muzzle of the gun, looking down upon its foe with a lofty air of defiance, tabby essayed to mount, but in doing so placed its paw on the trigger. There was a loud explosion, and the mangled remains of the rodent were jammed against the roof. When Mrs H. got out of bed to send for the police in order to remove the remains of the supposed burglar, a few stray bits of fur were all that remained to tell the tragic tale.