Page 1 Advertisements Column 6

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 7, Issue 379, 28 January 1864, Page 1

WHITTLINGS. THE PIC NIC. “The innocent enjoyments of life should not be contemn’d.” Peabody. “ A happy New 1’ ear to you,” said I to Mr. Grim, whom I met ou T. and W.’s wharf; “ but ara you not be at the Valley picnic to day’?” “ No,” —answered Mr. Grim, with a solemn shake of his head, “ I never countenance such gatherings.” I felt inclined, like Midshipman Easy, to argue the point, but the ferry-boat was waiting; so I sprang into it and across the thwarts in such a burry that I was in some danger of making my exit over the stern. Perhaps it was this circumstance that made me think as I looked over the boat’s side into the clear water, of the young ferryman - who waa„ drowned when rowing the punt across. He was to have been married soon— on dit; but, alas ! there’s many a slip twixt the cup and the lip. But to return to Mr. Grim. [ felt hurt at his reply, although I knew that lie was one of those unco gude 'beings who have nursed themselves into such a state of religious asceticism that, they almost think it a sin to laugh at any time. Not content with declaiming against horseracing, &c., they look with vinegar aspect upon the most innocent enjoyments of life if they take anything like a social clu racter." In their opinion you cannot be religious unless you were a very serious face, and be very solemn (solemn does not mean sincere) in the transactions of every day life. You should never laugh and be merry. You should nevery sing unless you sing psalms or hymns. Forgetting the emotions of their child hood and viewing life through their present morbidly religious mental state they deny to their children the-thousand little enjoyments and delights which Nature claims for them, and which the children long for like creatures Whose natural and healthful appetites are unsatisfied. But enough of Mr. Grim, and ho 1 for the pic nic. By the time l arrived' at the top of Major Durie’s cutting I was blowing like a grampus and glad to rest me a little. How quickly thought I, do associations spring up around usj This day three years ago I sat here with some friends, resting as I do now. We were on our way to a picnic at Oneida. It was just a morning as this; but woe’s me, how sad was the evening 1 “ Many- that laugh with the rising sun Are sad ere it go down.” Such painful recollections depressed my spirits. I thought of the uncertainty of life, and of the need of being ready for the great change which awaiteth us all. But I couldn’t convince myself that I was doing wrong in going to tke pic .nic any more tlmra tf I were going to dine at a friend's house. I had been at a similar joyous gathering in the Valley last New Year’s day, and had seen nothing to reprehend, with the exception of Mr.——having taken a little drop too much. There’s a time for every thing; a time to be grave and a time to be gay, a time to weep and a time to laugh ; a time to mourn and a time to dance,” —hut who comes here 1 Paddy O’Larry I believe. “ Good morning, Paddy ; and a happy New Year to you.” “The same to you, sir; an’ and a bunder returns, o’ the say son.” “ Ah, Paddy, you spalpeen, be quiet ; you don’t mqne what you say.” “ Troth an’ I do; didn’t my father’s father live to be a mighty ould man ? I forgit how ould he was but I know he lived till be died, an’ that’s sartain.” “ Yes ” I replied laughing; that’s sartain ; but, good day, I’m off to the Valley picnic.” “ Ah, thin joy go wid you, an’ I wish it’s myself could.” '1 hia bit of badinage raised my spirits so muchthat I went on my way whistling “ Begone dull care” “ Life*let us cherish” till I could whistle no longer from want of breath and water, —for I was choking with thirst, and couldn’t obtain a mouthful of anything wherewith to moisten my parched throat. It is a dry road, the No. 2 Line,-in summei, but there’s no Lion on it to endanger the traveller. At length I stood upon the brow of the flat and looked down upon the Valley, which presented as usual a pretty little tableau, although raarr’d a little by the ruinous condition the school-fence and the mal-apropos sight of a lot of pigs reposing at the school door, as if it were a fitting place for them to manifest their love of literature and ease.

“ Hope Springs Eternal in the Human Breast.” —The other day an elderly maiden lady, when being crossexamined as a witnessfin a civil case before Mr. Sheriff Barclay, was asked by the agent for the opposing party how old she was 1 I'he lady, deeply blushing, replied, “I am not married yet, and I don’t think it is usual for unmarried ladies to answer such a question.” Agent: “You can surely fe’i how old you are ?'’ The lady hesitated to give an answer, when the Sheriff said the gentleman had a perfect right to ask the question. Lady'(rather tartly): “ Y v ell, I’m fifty.” Agent: “ Are you not older ?” Lady :“No to tell a .lee, I”m sixty years auld.” Agent: “Do you expect to get married yet?’ Lady: “I.vrinna lee; I have not lost a’hope yet,”—a statement which elicited, the laughter of the court. — Perthshire Advertiser.. Men are generally like waggons—they rattle prodigiously when there is nothing in them.