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The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 2

The Demonsthrashion. — Marriage av the Cities. — Thrue An' Faithful Account O' The Openin'

The Demonsthrashion.

Marriage av the Cities.

Thrue An' Faithful Account O' The Openin'.

Me Cousin Mick's City Hotel, Dunaidin

Av coorse yer tin thousand readhers will be looking out anxiously for yer humble sarviut's account o' the Openin' o' the Railway, and the thrip down from Willin'ton, an' begorra I'm sorry for it, for I've the divil's own headache to-day afther last night's banket, an', in konsiquince, I'll not be able to give ye sich a graffic report as I might have sint ye under more propishious sarcumstances. Howsomever, I'll thry an' give ye a brief outline o' the dimonsthration. Av coorse ye know that mesilf an' the Markiss kum down to Lyttelton in the Nymphe, whilst the rest o' the boys thraveiled in the Hineymo an' Taupo. Only two mimbers of the Ministhry, besides mesilf, kum down, as the rest o' me collaiges are busy makin' out our bills, bekaise it's the beginning o' the month. Me two fellow Ministhors, Misther Stout an' Farmer Fisher, wint aboord the Hineymo, but the Markiss iusisted that I should thravel wid him in the Nymphe, which landed in Port Cooper a day sooner thin the other mimbers. Begorra we got a grand recipshun in Christchurch, so we did. Five bould warriors, mounted on hansom chargers (splindid kab horses, out o' complimint to the Kabinit), wid dhrawn soords, gilloped afther the Vice-raygil carriage to the Club, where our party put up. Thin kum Docthor Fosther, robed in his a-cad-dam-ical page 39 kostchume, lookin as proud as a newly married pay-cock. The sthreets wor lined wid the most initinse enthusism, only there was so much dust that ye couldn't see it, an' the two min an' a boy, who are keepin' the ruins o' the kathedhril in ordher, stopped their wheelbarrows to gaze on the coortage as it passed. On the Thursday, mesilf an' the Markiss opened the Musaim, which is a great place intirely, so it is. Talk about moas, an' monkeys, an' whales, an' rhino-soar-us-is, an' sich like baists, 'pon me conshinse it has no aiquil in New Zayland; but for donkeys it's not to be minshioned in the same breath as Willinton at this saison o' the year, so it's not. On the Thursday night, av coorse, we attinded the

Mayor's Banket.

This was one o' the most illigant affairs I've iver pathronised. The tables groaned undher the plates, an' tumblers, an' wather-jugs, an' ivergreeus, an' corn-tongues, an' spoons, an' knives, an' forks, an' jellies, an' blue-monges, an' yallow-monges, an' red-monges, wid here an' there a bottle av claret an' a decanther av sherry to relaive the plisint monotony o' the festive seen, whilst at the Vice-raygil ind o' the table, where me an' the Markiss sat, there was three whole bottles av rale shampain, the divil a word o' lie in it. His Worship's liberality was most magnanymous, an' I'm tould on good authority that the gintlemin o' the press, who wor privileged to sit up above in the reporther's coop, wor thrated to a small bottle o' rodhero, betchune tin o' them. Sich ginerosity desarves to be rekorded. I'll not throuble ye wid a report av the spaiches. They wor grand crashuns intirely, so they wor, and Docthor Turnbull surpassed himself, but it was a mortial pity that he cut his spaich so short. He wound up wid the followin' poetic piroration, which he thranslated himself from the Moorish language:—

"Whin I remimber all
The 'tots' we've had together,
When cronies used to fall
Like laives in dusty weather,
I feel like one who dhrinks alone,
Chaip wine wid cork long started,
The flavour's fled, the sperrit's dead,
An' all the stringth departed."

Afther the bankit our party returned to the Club, an' tuk a few tumblers o' punch to sittle our stomiks, an' keep off the nightmare. Thin we had a six-handed game o' forty-fives, as it wasn't worth while turnin' in afore the time o' startin'. Mesilf, the Markiss, an' Pat O' Rell, our aid-to-kong (Frinch), wor partners, whilst Major Lain, Kaptin Townsind, an' George M'Lean, wor our veesey-vees (Frinch). We bait thim two out o' three, owin' to me shuparior knowledge o' the game. The Major thried to chaite once or twice, but I was too knowin' for him. These ould sojers are up to all kinds o' thricks, so they are. An' now for a condinsed account o'

The Thrip.

It was a glorious mornin'. The purple fingers av Appollo (a haythin god) wor dhrawin' aside the crimson curtins from the gooldin couch o' Sol in the gorgeous west, an' the deep boomin' av the mighty ocean seemed to sing pay-ins in honour av the occashun. The grand voice av the say an' the main seemed to say, "Success to the main line o' railways," an' as I pondhered on the murnful dirges o' the deep, I exclaimed wid Tinnyson—

"Break, break, break,
On thy could grey stones, O say,
An' I would that me tongue could utther,
'This line is sure to pay.'"

An' now the fog-horn blows, the guards jump aboord, an' a thrimindchious cheer bursts from the stintorian lungs av one juvenile pathriot as he waves a dirty little pocket-hankercher in the mornin' breeze, an' cries "hooray."

page 40

Whiz, whiz, whizing we go be paddock, field, garden, an' plain, an' as the clock sthrikes eight, the towers av Ashburton loom in the distance, an' the Markiss whispers to me, "Be the hokey, I'm ready for breakkust, Paddy." Arrivin' at

Ashburton,

an addhress is prisinted to us, expressin' loyalty, etcethra, an' we rush over to the Town Hall, where a very nate ray past greets our oilfactory narves. Afther breakfast we inspect a fine Bullock that tuk first prize at the Corporation Show a few days before. We jump aboord again, an' rush across the plains to Timaru. As we come close to this important say-port, Misther Wakefield points out the breakwather to us in the distance through the tiliscope av idayality. Arrivin' at

Timaru,

we recaive a perfect ovation. Thriumphal arches, an' flags, an' banners, an' po-shays take us for a dhrive round the town, an' in half-an-hour we return an' make another start, laivin' siviral av our passingers behind us. A couple of hours more brings us to

Oamaru,

where a grand war-like display awaits us. The intire army of the White City are dhrawn up in battle array. The squadhrons an' battalions parade wid soords dhrawn and baignets gleamin' in the noon-day blaze, whilst the hayros' eyes flash marshal ardhor, an' their mustashes bristle wid fierce emotion as the vice-raygil salute is fired. Afther inspectin' the breakwather we return to lunch, an' murther-in-Irish, ye never saw sich a sight in yer born days. Talk about the poor craythurs runnin' afther victuals in the Chinese famine, 'pon me sowl it was only small pittaties compared to the rush made to the banket hall at Oamaru. We wor led into a big barn, through laborinths of corasacks, till we kum to a narrow staircase, where we filed up one be one to the banket. Av coorse mesilf and the vice-raygil party had nothin' to complain av, as we raiched the hall first an' devoured two turkeys before the company was saited. Be me conshinse it was as good as a play to see the Markiss get up wid a turkey's dhrum-stick in one band an' a glass o' rbodhero in the other to respond to the toast av his health, proposed be Major Stewart in felicichus language. I may here menshin ong-pass-on (Frinch), that we only left about twinty av our passingers at Oamaru. Nothin' av importance happened until we raiched

Palmerston,

an' 'pon mo conshinse, I must confess that the people o' Palmerston turned out like gintlemin on the occasion, and tuk the shine out av ivery other place on the rout. There was lashins an' lavins av shampain an' cakes, an' it was the only town on the voyage where we wor greeted wid good, sound, hearty cheers. But, av coorse, the enthusiasm av the Palmerstonians is aisily ixplained, for sure the Mayor—Mickey Fagan—is a Patlander, an' whativer an Irishman's failins may be, want of hospitality an' ginerosity is not one of thim, so it's not. On we go agin be the desarted village o' Waikouaiti, that was once inhabited be an intherprising' race, but is now lonely an' dissolute, like Gooldsmith's sweet Auburn—

Sweet, lovely bowers av innocinse an' aise,
At thee, alas! Cobb's coach no longer stays,

I mintally exclaimed as we swept be the lonely ruins. Nothin' further av importance happened until we raiched Deborah Bay tunnel, whin an incident occurred that's worthy av notice. Before intherin the tunnel, me ould Ingin frind, the Naybob, who had his quarthers in tbe nixt apartment to our State carriage, called me out on to the platlorm, an' whispered in me ear, Blur-an-ages, Paddy asthore, don't lave me, don't lave me, aviek machree, for faix ther's some ladies in the thrain, an' iver since that Valentine Baker affair, I'm mighty narvous goin' through tunnels in the company o' faimailes page 41 so I am." Av coorse I pacified me ould frind, an' whin we got through the tunnel another ipisode tuk place. The ingin stopped to take in wather, an' me respicted an' vinirable frind wint ashore for a minit or two. I think some new variety av fern must have sthruck his eye, but I won't be sartin that it was that tuk him down. It was gettin' dark, an' before the Naybob could secure his botanical threasure the night-ingin snorted, an' the Ingin knight snorted too, as he rushed to the carriage. "Stop the thrain, bad luck to ye: stop the thrain. Would ye lave a knight in the bush sich a night as this, an' me so nigh to town?" ses he, as he made a frantic effort to jump up. As luck would have it, I managed to catch him be the turban, an' wid the assistance o' the Markiss I dhragged him aboord. The ould fellow was so pliased at gettin' in that he got as jolly as a sand-boy, an' chanted the followin' verse in the eggs-uberance av his joy—

"Och Paddy, me darlint, me jewel, me dear,
I've fought wid yer counthrymin out in Cowbull,
Yer welkim, me honey, to visit Cashmere,
Be-jabers, me heart is wid gratichude full."

Arrival at Dunaidin.

Be the hokey-poker, me pin lacks iloquince to discribe the grand ovation we recaived at the Dunaidin Station. The volunteers, undher Kurnil Stavely, looked mighty imposin', dhrawn up in line av battle, only it was so dark we couldn't see thim, so we couldn't. Thin there was the illicthors lights (a manhood suffrage dimonsthration), an' illuminations on Watsons', an' Sargood's, and the Banks, an' the braes, an' the public building Begog, it was a fine sight intirely, so it was. A carriage an' four greys wor waitin' to take mesilf an' the vice-raygil party to the Club, but who the dickens should I meet at the station but me cousin Mick, who keeps the City Hotel, an' he would force me home wid him in spite o' the remonsthrances o' the Markiss, who feels miserable if I'm not always be his side whiu he's thravel- lin'. Av coorse dacincy wouldn't allow me to turn the could shouldher on me own kith an' kin, for although I occupy a more ixalted position thin me rilitive, still there's no dirty pride about me, an' blood is sthronger than wather, so it is. I need hardly tell ye that Mick made me as welkim as the flowers o' May to the City, an' he got a warmin'-pan to mc feet, bekaise I'm not cured o' me could yit. Whin I tell ye that it's twinty-one years since Mick an' I parted, ye'll undherstand how glad we wor to meet again. Whin we lift the County Waxford together, he imigrated to Boston, an' I kum out to New Zayland. Av coorse our first few words o' greet in' was in our native language, as follows:—"Och asthore, banachlath gude deamatha thu grah machree?" ses Mick. "Arrah bather shin ma bouchileen bawn, shule aroon, shin-fane shin-fane, thiggin thu," ses I. That inded the discoorse in Gaelic, an' "Kinnahin," from Belfast, was brought in to keep us company. As I've to start in the mornin' be the thrain, in ordher to be up at the nixt Kabinit sayance in Willin'ton, I have been forced to write this on the Sunday against me will. The ixcillint banket given last night be yer Mayor (Misther Leary) suggested the following thrifle:—

The Dunaidin Bankit.

Don't talk to me av Throjans
Or ainshint thaologans,
That live in Æsop's fables, or Homer's high-flown dhrames;
I wish ye wouldn't prate, O,
Of Sock-rat-is an' Plato,
I'm mountin' my Pig-asses now for grandher, nobler thaimes.

page 42

The Railway Dimonsthation
Claims me congratulation;
Och, blur-an-ounthers, man alive! 'twas beautiful to see
The City Guards an' Gunners
(Begorra, they are stunners),
Presintin' arms, an' legs, too, for the Governor an' me.

The grand illuminations,
An' banners av all nations,
In lovely situations, wor gorgeous to behould;
Likewise the banket, too, boys,
No thripe or Irish stew, boys,
But rale ould mountain jew, boys, wid geese an' turkeys could.

The butchers an' the bakers
Put life into the spaikers,
Wid diafram ixtinded, the Markiss poured a flood
Av flowery ilocution;
An' ivery risolution
We toasted, boys, wint far to prove the rod-hero was good.

The Clargy, too, wor presint,
Quite jovial an' pleasant,
Forgettin' all their differinces, remimbirin' they are min
Who're buildin' up a nation;
The lines of siparation
Wor wash'd in aitch libation, an Union conquer'd thin.

Begorra, as I gazed, boys,
Quite gratified an' plaised, boys,
I thin purshued, amazed, boys, a tkrain of thought on love;
Some think that line a stale way
To heaven; but it's the Rail-way
To link the cities of the earth wid cities up above.

Paddy Murphy.

Inn Bee .—A grate many people is wondherin' why I didn't wair me Coort shuit at the Dimonsthration, but I forgot to take it out o' me uncle's on the Kay.