A farewell Symposium.

Although the fact is not set forth in the sixpenny programme of the proceedings issued by the Government, it has been definitely arranged that on the evening prior to His Royal Highness's departure from these hospitable shores a gathering of a more or less convivial nature will be held to celebrate the event. It will be a gathering at which all personal differences will be forgotten; where the feast of reason will be conspicuously absent as befits such an occasion, but where the flow of soul will hold continual sway; where the niceties of court etiquette will be dispensed with: and each, guest will be viewed as a man and a brother. Invitations to this momentous "night off" have already been issued, and the speeches which are to be made by various speakers have been prepared, carefully type-written, and as carefully committed to memory. What the daily papers call the "usual loyal toasts" will find no part on the programme of liquids, and there will be a maximum of sack to a minimum of bread. Of music there will be none, and any man attempting to sing the National Anthem will immediately be ejected with all possible violence.

The applause at this point will be "loud and prolonged," and after its cessation the Premier, overcome with emotion though he be, will respond in a brief speech of seventy-five minutes' duration. Only portion of the reply can here be reproduced:—"A serpent's tooth is not so sharp as the gratitude of so esteemed and valuable an ally as he who has just spoken—I mean it is more sharp. I—er—er—yes—hum—feel that nothing could be more appropriate to the occasion than this voluntary declaration, which having been made in the presence of His Royal Highness the Duke cannot fail to be a splendid advertisement to the colony and of its resources—and of the resources of its politicians. I have naturally during His Royal Highness's tour of the colony kept in the background, and have been busily engaged in departmental matters, knowing as I did that it was the will of my people that my illustrious guest should not be—as it were—or—yes—hum—overshadowed by—er—any one else. He has moved freely among my people—while they they were roped off—and has been impressed by the manner in which they showed their love, affection, and loyalty to him and the institution he represents. This will also be a good advertisement for the colony, and when the whole story is published in the English papers I believe that the people will immediately show a desire page 57 to know the colony better, and will develop a frightful appetite for frozen meat and chilled butter. This will be a good thing for the farmers—and for me, because I'll be able to get a bit more out of them. His Highness has been fed exclusively on frozen meat since coming here, and I am informed has put on several stone in weight. This also will be a good ad . . . . . . I'm sorry he is is going, for money is no object just now, and I could have kept on at this game for a long time Next election? . . . . I'll have something else on then. The bill doesn't count. I don't have to pay it. The result will be to solidify the Empire and extend its boundaries . . . Flag . . . Never shall be slaves . . . Duke . . . Patriotism . . . Khaki . . . British Constitution . . . Lest we forget ... To drink his health, do it now!"

Suggestion for new Statue to Commemorate the Visitation.

The Duke will of course reply, and without any of that prince-like grace and hauteur that had been observed when acknowledging the printed addresses of "oldest inhabitants," etc. His Highness's speech for the occasion reads:—"From the somewhat incoherent remarks that have lately been uttered, I think it is just about time I took myself off. There appears to be an ill-founded idea that I am something of a Royal bagman who has conic here to boom frozen meat and khaki. This is altogether wrong. I made the voyage to Australia for certain well-founded reasons of State, and thought it would be as well to give New Zealand a look in at the same time. The people of this part of my father's dominions have received me with an enthusiasm and devotion that has completely taken my breath away. They have spent their spondoolix in regal style, and if they would only impose upon themselves fresh taxation to help pay for the maintenance of the army and navy they would set an example to other parts of the Empire which would be very valuable. I'm not going to kid to you in the way that I have been doing lately any more, and will, therefore, not tell you with 'how much regret' I leave New Zealand. As a matter of fact I am none too sorry—this hand-shaking business is fairly hard work for one unused to manual toil. My dear friend the Premier—I trust he will permit me to refer to him thus—has remarked that he has kept very much in the background during my visit. Well, I really shudder to think what he would have been like had he emerged from his accustomed retirement. He has really seemed to have been here, there, and everywhere, and I certainly will have to see about that Governorship which his fuglemen of the Press have lately been discussing with such noisy satisfaction. Nothing could more appropriately reward the Empire than his acceptance of high office under the Crown. It has been said frequently enough that 'much remains for the Liberals to do 'in the colony, but it appears that there are a good many Liberals about, and some of them are no doubt ready and eager to be up and 'doing' on the slightest provocation. Mr. Pirani would no doubt be able to assist in this direction after recovering from the prostration that would overcome him on parting from his honoured chief. Of course I am now speaking without that restraint imposed upon one in such an exalted station as myself, and as the Premier has led the way in this direction, I feel that in following his footsteps no harm can result. He has reached the highest pinnacle of fame in this country, and should no longer hide his light under a Statute Book—as the Satrap of the Pacific he would shine in the great optic of the world with even greater luminosity. Still, as the hour draws near when we all must part, I can hardly do so without shedding a Princely tear in case we should never meet again—lest I should never see your arches of butter-boxes, and old-age pensioners, and cadets. These I will always remember as the most—er—hum—ah—pleasing—hum—things I have seen."

At this stage of the proceedings the Duke will distribute "presents" among his faithful fellow countrymen—principally photographs and snuff-boxes. And the man who receives a snuff-box will consider himself an aristocrat all the rest of his days.

There has been an unfortunate duplication of effort in Wellington in connection with the Duke's visit. For instance, a platform is being erected for "visitors from the West Coast "and another for" old-age pensioners." Surely one platform would have been sufficient for carry-ing out the general intention.