RANDOM THOUGHTS.

Tuapeka Times, Volume III, Issue 185, 24 August 1871, Page 5

RANDOM THOUGHTS.

The good folks of this town seem to be suffering from an infliction of land mania. Every land sale is attended by an eager and anxious crowd of would-be landed proprietors, and the various sections are put up and knocked down with a rapidity that is bewildering. I suppose everybody intends to buildf get married, have a large family, and grow potatoes. Quite right ; I admire their energy and pluck ; let them have all the land, and as much more as they can get hold of. Even I have had a mild attack of the mania, and at the last sale I rushed away to the auctioneer's rooms with the intention of going in for a few acres (on very deferred payments, of course), but I found that the Bale had commenced a quarter of an hour before I got there, and that I was just in time to see the last section knocked down to the highest bidder. However, I consoled myself by the reflection that in good. time I too should become the occupier of a piece of ground — 6 x 2.

What an age of poetasters is the present. In this province at least there must be a goodly crop, judging from the execrable twaddle frequently to be found in most of the newspapers under the heading

" Original Poetry." The Tokomairiro "Brass Trumpet" supplies notable examples. That favoured journal, among its numerous acquisitions, can number that of having secured the services and contributions of every twaddling, scribbling rhymester in this part of the country, some of whose effusions I can only characterise as excrements of the brains of fools. Tt is all very well to foster and encourage the growth of ever beauteous Poesy, but to be in a position to do this, our critical Daniel of Toko, must acquire sufficient enlightenment to enable him to discriminate between true poetry and genuine jumble— the one a delicate flower which requires tender nursing and training ; the other a rank weed fit only to be torn up by the roots and trodden

under foot Having indulged in this bit of moralising, I wish now to plead guilty to having once written some verses myself, which 1 intended to publish. Before doing so, however, I submitted them to my friend Jones, whom I look upon as an authority in these matters. Jones' opinion not being favourable, 1 decided not to publish. I will give you his brief and pithy criticism in rhyme, trusting it may prove a useful hint to those would-be poets (but won't) whose productions are so offensive to our finer feelings :—: — He read the first line, then he paused— rubbed

his nose ; A small sigh escaped as he slowly arose ; And then, as lie shook his confounded old

head, The single word " bunkum !" was all that he

said. The poem which Jones so mercilessly condemned was an " Ode to baked potatoes," to which I have a decided partiality, and to show the sublime poetic fire which pervaded it, I append the first verse :—: —

'Tis baked potatoes that can give Sweetest pleasure while we live ; But pork and pudding will supply Indigestion till we die.

I "was enjoying my usual fortnightly fit of the mumps the other day, when Jones popped in and commenced talking politics —a subject which, of all others, I most detest when lam out of sorts. Blessed is he who is free from care and bile. . . . I must explain that Jones is a staunch adherent of tetotalism, his peculiar eccentricity consisting in the belief that a man by the use of sxairituous liquors in never so small a degree violates the first laws of nature, and entails upon himself all the ills, &c. ; and that simply signing the pledge is an insurance against mumps, dumps, blues, and so forth, for evermore, amen. He had incessantly bored me to sign for some time, and I had at length promised to think over it. To resume : Jones soon discovered that T was in no humour for an argument, and I knew what would follow — I knew that the old he-Caudle, instead of allowing me to enjoy my mumps alone, would rumain and torture me with one of his longwinded sermons " Fitz, my boy," he commenced, " I perceive by your monosyllabic responses, and your air of general listlessness and^tbstraction, that j^ou are suffering the penalty of infringing upon those laws, the strict observance of which is the only panacea for the thousand ills to which flesh is heir. (1 knew it was coming.) Now, it is self-evident," he continued, " that you have allowed that reprehensible negligence, which is a part of your nature, to prevent you from following my injunctions regarding your physical and mental weal, and I feel greatly inclined to treat you to a lecture." " Lecture away, and be hanged !" was my gracious reply; "I can stand it." " Very good, my boy, 7 ' responded Jones ; "having obtained your assent, 1 shall proceed to remark that " " Mine's whisky !" T interrupted, with a grin of torture. This was too much for Jones ; he left abruptly.

A Chinaman at the Upper Darling the other day amused himself by digging a a tunnel into one of his countrymen, with a large knife, which he accomplished after thirteen persevering attempts. Elated with his success, he attempted to put in a drive through his own ribs, but being muddled by a beverage, the principal ingredient of which was strychnine, he quitted these digging operations, and elected to hang himself to a tree. FITZSMYTHE.