“What are the best evening amusements?” The best are the cheapest. The reader is told that for one shilling he may enter the Polytechnic Institution—open from 7 to 10 p.m.—where the most interesting objects were to be seen—models of engines, and endless curiosities of art. Every new topic, event, or discovery was illustrated, explained, or
(Rly. Publicity photo.)
First-class sleeping compartment complete with hand basin provided with hot and cold water, on one of the latest passenger cars in service on the New Zealand Railways.
commented on. The chief attraction of the moment was a series of lectures by Mr. Carpenter, on “The Rail, the River, and the Road.” These lectures were illustrated by dissolving views, the first of which represented a time so lawless that peaceful subjects found it expedient to travel in companies. Then followed carriages in various degrees of progress, until the summit of excellence was reached in the mail coaches of about 16 years before. Then, just when road travelling was pronounced perfect, the rail superseded it altogether.
The traveller might also spend a profitable evening by visiting the Gallery of Illustration, where he would see a “moving panorama”—“The Ocean Mail.”
The next pages of the “Miscellany” contained a story—“Don Savaedra De Escolar. A Tale of the Peninsula War,” founded on fact, by E. J. Brabazon. Then followed “Military Anecdotes,” from the notebook of Henry Curling. One of these stories was of General Picton, who, when mortally wounded, threatened to shoot the surgeon who attended him if he reported him as unfit for duty. The surgeon shrugged his shoulders, shook Picton's hand, and withdrew. So it came about that the gallant general died, as he had wished to do, amid the blaze of battle.