NOTES BY THE WAY.

Tuapeka Times, Volume III, Issue 157, 9 February 1871, Page 5

NOTES BY THE WAY.

(By our vagabond -Reporter.)

I missed the mail last week, and no doubt have excited delusive hopes in your bosom that I had been drowned in the Lake, or otherwise gone to my account without yours being settled. " What a comfort it is to us in our bereavement that we did not honour that last draft he had the impudence to negotiate in Queenstown " no doubt you said in the privacy of the editorial sanctum. But here I am, as lively as ever, and I may tell you confidentially another goes down this mail, and you can arrange both together. I told you in my last I was about to visit the celebrated township of the Arrow if I could possibly procure a horse upon which I had a fair chance of retaining my seat for some 15 miles odd. I consulted my amiable host, who referred me to the head groom, a fast looking young gentleman, with a straw in his mouch, and very tight legs. " Have you a quiet horse," says I. " Quiet be d — d," says he. " Who the sanguinary residence of the evil one," I here paraphrase slightly, " wants a quiet horse !" " Perhaps the gentleman would like a cow T' says a grinning brute of a boy. 1 endeavoured to preserve my dignity, and explained that although an excellent horseman, I was subject to epiliptic fits if a horse bucked, or kicked, or bit pieces out of my leg, as the manner of some is. The groom grinned and winked openly at the odious boy ; but, fortunately, at that moment the good host appeared. Explanation repeated. " Give him Mousy," said he, and a tall gaunt slate coloured beast was brought out fully accoutred. He certainly did not look frisky — far from it ; but there was a sort of rotten unsteadiness in his legs, which gave him decidedly a groggy appearance. " Does he stumble ?" I asked. " Never in his life," said his owner, "and I have had him 17 years — he's a good horse, but you must hold him together." I did not like to enquire further, it was evidently some "horsy" expression. He could not mean that he was likely to fall to pieces, and that T, by judicious management, was to help it. I "mounted" — a very easy word to write, but try the actual fact upon Mousy, 17 hands, if an inch, and every joint quivering under you as you took your seat. I will not fatigue you with recounting that awful journey. How first the brule declined to move, and then suddenly went off in a plunging trot ; how he took a funeral pace along the flats, and galloped down the hills ; how he " stuck up " at the Shotover Bridge, and had to be ignominiously led over by an inebriated agriculturist, who favoured me with his opinion upon my equestrian abilities, and then wanted me to shout ; how at last we arrived, after some four hours martyrdom in the sun and dust, and how Mousy making straight and fast for the stable, I was knocked off by the top of the door, and picked up by the amiable landlord of the Royal Oak. What T have suffered, Mr. Times, in your service may be remembered, it can never be detailed. One word only — if you have an enemy with a tender skin, send him to Queenstown, and strongly recommend him my equine monster as a saddle hack. The Royal Oak was pasted over inside and out with

flaming placards. Some performance . thought I. I shall see these quiet villagers in their holiday garb enjoying themselves in the simple amusements suited to their tastes, provided for them probably by some travelling troop of pantomimeists, or perhaps some operatic company is about to discourse sweet sounds and awaken the latent harmony in their rural bosoms. Thus I meditated when the landlord entered. "We shall have a lively night, sir," said he, " lots of the boys are in town, and all Brackens is coming." I did not like, not wishing to display local ignorance, what " Brackens " meant, or why the " boys " should be in town when they ought to have been at home in bed, so I took safety in asking a question — "What time does the performance commence, are we far from the theatre ?" ' ' Performance !" says he, " why it's the election, it comes off to-morrow, and won't there be a row, that's all." A cold perspiration broke out over me. I had read of elections on the goldfields ; and to think that I was to be a spectator, perhaps an unwilling participator, in the atrocities pro. and con. currently reported to take place. Possible horrors flashed through my mind in a few seconds. I should be taken to be of one side or the other, perhaps tarred and feathered, pasted over with bills, howled at, knocked over and trampled upon. Each side of course would have a mob. Unknown to either I should be suspected by both as a secret agent, or a dead-head, or the man with the bag. I detained the landlord. I said to him solemnly, "My friend stow me away for the night anywhere out of the way ; tell everybody that in the room where I repose there is a Choctaw Missionary on his way to lecture at Queenstown, and that he has with him a sick wife and three children, and that on no account he be disturbed, or even approached." I pressed his hand and murmured softly, v Never mind what." It had its effect. I was installed in a comfortable little bed-room, quite private ocularly, orally having the advantage of hearing every sound uttered in the whole establishment. The bar was evidently full, and a continual gurgle, as of pouring liquor, lulled the ear. The conversation appeared to be general, but as no less than twenty were talking at once, it was difficult to catch the connected thread of any disputation. " Shepherd's my man," says one, " he's going to kick out those (adjective) Chinamen." " What did you sell out to them for ?" shouts • another. ' ' He's a bull-headed f ool. " ' ' Your another." "How about Brighton Beach." Such a jumble of unintelligible sounds. Occasionally some more excited gentleman would propose an appeal to arms. Then would a crash of glasses, a heavy fall, and comparative quiet for a time. At last I slept, or seemed to sleep, and woke to the morning sun streaming in at my window, while the not very distant sound of a fiddle, apparently accompanied by the stamping of feet, and a palpable Jew's harp, made me aware that the harmony was still alive. The outside world also was awake — a noisy cock close outside my window, and an infernal cat, apparently shut up in a cupboard directly behind my head, rendered further attempts at repose inpossible. And further pleasant voices of the country -cows driven away from their calves ; yelling milk boys ; an Hibernian female discoursing with a domestic enemy — induced me to register a vow never again to leave the sweet shades of the city. The ruralities of Vauxhall will suffice me iv future. And then the looming horrors of the day. An election day — a keenly contested election I had been kindly informed. Shall I stay in bed, I despairingly thought. No use ; the house is sure to be ransacked for concealed voters, and I dragged to the poll in my shirt. I looked at my watch — G a.m. I hear cheers and a trampling as of many horses. I may as well get up and make the best of it. Stroll out, find general excitement in and about the township. Opposition bill stickers hard at work attended by respective body guards of ardent supporters of either side. "Vote for Shepherd, the miners friend." " If you want Chinamen, vote for Haughton." "Shepherd and Woman's Rights !! !" Can I believe my eyes ? here is the illustrious candidate in person ; that familiar form so well known in the Council ; that smiling visage, now, alas, purple with suppressed emotion ; a paste brush in his hand, followed by a small boy carrying placards. He approached the front of the Roj^al Oak, sacred to the bills of his opponent — here shone out, in all the glories of coloured print, the thousand virtues of Haughton — the multitude of reasons why Shepherd should be kicked out. Dauntlessly, howover, he advanced, and commenced obliterating, by a decidedly opposing statement, the most cutting of the enemy's fabrications. Suddenly there rushed out from the stable opposite, a burly goodtempered looking man. " Who's meddling with those bills?" he cries, "let me catch him." The unhappy siniler trembled and dropped his paste brush. "Oh, it's you, is it?" added my new friend, in what one might call a " maintop " voice ; " condemn you " — here I again am obliged to paraphrase- " if I catch you at it again, I'll paste you all over with your (adjective) bill and lead you up and down the street with a dogchain. " Will the cheerful one show fight, thought I. No ;he said not a word, but walked away, followed by the small boy, his occupation gone, and hid himself, they told me, in the bar of a truculaat person of malignant aspect, who was pointed out to me later, and who has much the appearance of the old portraits of Judas Iscariot.

(To be continued.)