Newspaper Article 1888 – The Waipawa Wonder

THE WAIPAWA WONDER

[BY “TOUCHSTONE”]

Did you ever see a ghost? I don’t mean one of those shadowy phantoms for whom heavy suppers and consequent indigestion are responsible, or the very doubtful spectres conjured up by magicians of the Professor Pepper and Maskelyne and Cooke type, nor yet the protecting or damning spirit, which ‘haunts the ancestral halls’ familiar to the readers of the London Journal or other fiction of the ‘penny awful’ order.

Historic, genuine ghosts are those to whom my question refers; the ghost of William the Fourth, of Nap the First, ‘Julius Caesar’ or’ The Man in the Iron Mask’. I never believed in ghosts nor in “ghostesses”, for the matter of that, until yesterday morning. Then all my scepticism vanished, my nerves received a severe shock, and from an unbeliever I became transformed into a most faithful adherent of the doctrine, dogma, or whatever you may choose to call it – of ‘ghostism’.

It is not given to everybody to see ghosts, nor to hobnob with them, and the booking clerk at the Napier station and the guard by the first train will no doubt put down my ghostly friend as a humbug, yet will I take my solemn ‘Alfred David’ that Captain Cook – a gentleman of some celebrity in byegone days – skipped airily into the smoking carriage of the 7.20 train yesterday morning and proceeded to light up a long clay, loaded with the finest Virginia the odour of which ever greeted my olfactory organs. He wore a blue long-tailed coat with gilt buttons, a periwig with a long tail – he called it a queue – and he gave me a pinch of the finest ‘rappee’ snuff I ever sniffed.

‘Ha, ha, time flies,’ said he, ‘a good many changes since my time, my boy. What curious clothes you wear, and, dear me, what an improvement the train is to the old coaches I left in England a century ago. Just popped down, you see, to get an idea how New Zealand is going on. ‘Fore gad, you don’t do things badly. Meet you at Scrimmy’s (Scrimgeour’s)’ and a smack of a broad palm on a thin one, and he was gone.

Of course Captain Cook’s ghost is a fiction, you will say, but believe me, if he were not present yesterday at Waipawa he ought to have been – ought to have been there just for the sake of seeing the difference which a century can make – a century which has brought the cannibal Maori of his time into the billiard playing, sweepstake partaking, gold watch and watch guarded, tweed suited, whiskey drinking, football playing, lawyer outwitting and generally smart well-to-do and up-to snuff native of to-day.

ON THE WAY UP

Alas for hallucinations, Capt. Cook could not well have been on the Waipawa train after all. Maxwell with his red tape would have scared him away, ‘seven shillings return to Waipawa,’ would have effectually frightened him into absence. As for ‘excursions’ such a dignified old fellow would have scorned them, and although my eyes apparently unmistakeably gave evidence of his presence in the corner of a first class ‘double-bogie’ they must have been deceived. He would, nevertheless, if he were not an admiring spectator of the ‘Waipawa Wonder’ yesterday he certainly ought to have been. He would have blinked his hundred-year-old eyes over a crowd of men, women and children, white of face, without[?] in their hands and with dresses slightly more elaborate than tattoo marks and a flax mat; he would have seen thousands of people gathered together to witness the peaceful triumphs of art and industry in a country which in his time was the playground of barbarism and an uncivilised desert.

A truce to moralizing however. Few of those who left Napier yesterday morning ever dreamt of Captain Cook or of the early days of Hawke’s Bay; they had got a holiday from desk or bench and were prepared and ready to enjoy it. On the way up, they devoted the time mainly between admiring their crops and the scenery and abusing the Railway Department. The morning was bright, clear, bracing and fine, a typical New Zealand morning, the crops all along were cheering to see, good barley, good oats, a little but still good wheat, the scenery – well the ranges were swimming in a lovely blue haze, but were beautiful as every- the willows on their river banks were deliciously green, and everybody who looked out of the windows congratulated each other, that with a climate and land like this, Hawke’s Bay must go ahead.

Passengers from Napier were not over numerous, a fact I put down to that extraordinary capacity for stupidity, which is, alas, far too salient a point of our railway administration. Seven bob doubled – – for paterfamilias must take his better half – – is very stiff. Add a ‘kid’ or two and the bill becomes a severe one in these dull times. When the Waipawa Racing Club hold their periodical festivities at Kaikoura, the fare from Napier, return, is but five bob, and yet on an occasion like that of yesterday, when a really worthy undertaking – untainted by the vice[?] of[?] and wholly[?] Deserving[?] support on public grounds is instituted the thrice idiotic imbeciles who rule the roost in railway matters declare that for four miles additional an extra two shillings shall be charged. Result, only too evident yesterday, only about half the number went from Napier who ought to have gone had a reasonable fare been charged. Maledictions on Maxwell are, however, so common an item on the newspaper bill of fare that I will inflict no more in this place upon you. ‘On the way up’ all stations contributed their contingent. Hastings sent a goodly crowd, not forgetting the band, and Te Aute and Kaikora each added their quota. On the road from Te Aute we descried the Rev. Sam – of whom more anon – in a buggy, and when the ‘scursion reached Waipawa it turned out its living freight of full five hundred upon the platform.

WAIPAWA EN FETE

Once at Waipawa there was no mistaking the fact that the Waipawa people had fully determined to make a day of it. In the matter of statistics I never was a whale. Waipawa my not be the ‘Modern Babylon,’ its hundreds are not thousands and its problematical thousands are certainly not a million. Nevertheless, the hundreds were there, well nigh up to the thousands. Besides numbers there was enthusiasm. Waipawa went it ‘big licks’ for enthusiasm yesterday. There were the members of the Committee in black broadcloth and white rosettes, there were the school children – and a mighty pretty, natty, well-dressed lot of youngsters too – there was the Chairman of the Town Board, and there was the populace in general. After a good deal of ceremony, a tremendous amount of ordering about of the school children, a pardonable fussiness on the part of the Committee, and a little delay with the bands – already inclined to be jealous and rusty – a start was made. The Garrison Band, whose masher-like uniform simply ‘killed’ the local belles, were to the front, next came a shandyran affair containing their Worships, Mayors Swan and Ellis, there was the Railway Band and the Hastings band and there were the ‘kids.’ The ‘kids,’ be it not forgotten, under the command of Lieut-Colonel, Major-General, Field-Marshal Williamson, the great Williamson, the only

WILLIAMSON OF WAIPAWA

To Williamson, the promoters of the Exhibition, the public, the children, everybody owes a debt of gratitude. Who stalked alongside the ‘kiddies’ contingent with the air of a volunteer adjutant? Who marshalled the procession in admirable order? Who restored order from chaos at the station, who kept the formidable phalanx of boys and girls from breaking rank, and rushing the buns? Who could pride himself on the excellent marching and description of his pupils – really excellent marching, without puff or undue praise – who but Williamson – Williamson of Waipawa, the lordly, dignified, black-coated, stiff bearing, energetic, ubiquitous, eminently useful – Williamson. Joking apart, the Waipawa school children were quite a feature of the ‘Wonder.’ They behaved like little ladies and gentlemen, they were under admirable control, and the arrangements on their behalf reflect the greatest credit upon their teacher, who, I feel sure, will not feel angry because I have chaffed him. Great is Williamson of Waipawa, and long may he live and prosper, likewise his ‘kiddies’ as Hans the Boatman called the youngsters.

UP TOWN

Nine-tenths of Waipawa people were at the station, the other tenth were in and around Scrimgeour’s. Scrimgeour is an individual, I may mention, who owns that class of refreshment place known to the ungodly as an hotel, and to Harding of Mount Vernon and the devotees of Sir William Fox generally, as ‘a drinking den, sir, a haunt of horrible debauchery.’ The Waipawa dust being wafted about by the gentle zephyr somewhat unpleasantly, and the Waipawa main thoroughfare being apparently paved with petrified kidneys, certain of the unregenerate – I alas among them – patronised Scrimmy’s early after our arrival in the township which owns ‘The Wonder.’ Here did we meet certain and sundry celebrities, local and otherwise. I dropped across the genial ‘A Tramp, Esq., bent upon fresh ‘copy’ and subscribers for and to that excellent journal the Auckland Weekly News, who joined me in uttering the magic word ‘Press’ at the Exhibition portals shortly afterwards. ‘Sandy’ – for thus do the Waipawaites designate the host of the Empire – was doing a roaring trade when we went in – he did the same throughout the day, but I must say that ‘despite all temptations’ to dispense bad liquors, he dispensed good, and gave several scores of capital meals to scores of extremely hungry guests. The Empire corner at Waipawa is as the Criterion corner to Napier. Yesterday it was the rallying point for the visitors. Tight-trousered, brown-bearded fellows, down from the stations, shock headed Scandies from the Bush, mixed up with the visitors from Napier, and the Waipawa loafer, who sticks his hands in his pockets, smokes his V(enus[?]) or his Vanity Fair – according to age – all the same as the Hastings street loafer, and is just about as stupid looking, and certainly as har[?]. About twelve the procession got well up to time, and

THE OPENING CEREMONY

took place. This was a somewhat tame proceeding. Of course the Friendly Societies were there, in bands and aprons of wondrous colours, and of course, also, the local fire brigade were to the front – as fire brigades are and ought to be. The school children were also in force. Under Williamson, the great Williamson of Waipawa, were 180 youngsters. Hastings sent 80, Havelock 60, Hampden 45, far away Makaretu 30, Onga Onga 91 and Kaikora 11. (N.B. – These figures are put in for fear of the infuriated masters coming down and braining the News Editor – schoolmasters are always touchy). The children were all mustered up, the bands, friendly societies and firemen made a square, and the general public filled in the background. In the middle, just in front of the portals of ‘The Edifice’ (capitals, please Mr Printer) was a platform on which, all at ease[?], and apparently wishing to goodness ‘that all this rot was over.’ were the great Tanner, Thomas[?] M.H.R., of that ilk, the equally great J.D.O. Mayor Swan of Napier – the most prominent of all – and Mayor Ellis of Hastings. In the immediate vicinity were promoters, reporters and others. After considerable ‘humming and ha-ing,’ and whispering here and whispering there, Mr Hornaby, of the Waipawa News, in a gorgeous dress suit, and a white tie, made a few remarks, and asked the lordly Tanner to declare the exhibition open. Thereupon T.T., with that gracious air of condescension, which the ‘very superiah fellah’ of Hawke’s Bay can only assume, did orate to the multitude. He took credit to himself for brevity, and I gave him credit for that brevity, and gratefully too, as one who in the Press Gallery has suffered much in bye-gone times from T.T’s illimitable verbosity. However, it would be ill-natured to be captious[?] on an occasion like this, and really Mr Tanner did very well – that is to say – he got[?] all the usual platitudes suitable to an occasion like this just as well as most people would have done. After which we had the ‘Old Hundredth,’ sung – I believe – by the school children, but as the band drowned the[?] I’m not prepared to swear that the hymn was not ‘Old Bob Ridley’ or a similar profane[?]. After which, cheers for all and sundry, given with no great vigour and apparently regarded by the people as a nuisance. After which another vocal selection, supposed to be ‘God Save the Queen’ and another, yclept ‘God Defend New Zealand.’ I was deeply grieved to notice that the Exhibition was not opened with prayer. The Very Venerable Archdeacon, the saintly Sam, was in town, I saw him in a buggy, looking as cheery and as chirpy as if Renata’s[?] will had never been fought over and – but no matter. Seeing him, I imagined he would favour the assemblage with a short prayer, but no, he is doubtless saving himself for the opening of the Pro-Cathedral.

THE WOODVILLE CONTINGENT

arrived shortly after the opening ceremony was concluded. Children here were in abundance from various country districts, though not from Woodville itself, and a goodly number of adults also rolled up. By some mistake on the part of the committee, no carriage was sent to the station to convey Captain Russell and Mr W.C. Smith, M.H.R, [?] but I don’t think these two gentlemen in question regretted the omission very much, for they walked up from the station and doubtless had a good yarn over Atkinson’s latest job, the Shannon appointment, and over political questions in general. Once in town the country school children from the South and the Bush followed those who arrived by the first train into the showgrounds where they were regaled with buns, fruit and other delicacies. Certainly the Ladies Committee deserve very great credit for the manner in which the ‘kiddies’ were treated. There was an admirable display of system – there was enough and more than enough and to spare for all, and the children’s faces were simply beaming with delight. This kindly forethought for the wants on [of] the youngsters was one of the most pleasant and praiseworthy features of the day.

‘UP GUARDS AND AT ‘EM’

was the expression erroneously credited to Wellington at Waterloo, but ‘Open doors and into it,’ would have been a very fair cry for the crowd immediately after the opening ceremony had been concluded. The ‘it’, the ‘Waipawa Wonder’ itself, is a wondrous structure, one-eighth Oddfellows’ Hall and the other seven eighths wood, canvas and iron, inanimates put together although a really commodious house for the thousand and one exhibits which have found their way to this little inland town of Waipawa. It is not my intention to describe in glowing panegyrics each and every exhibit. For that I have neither time or inclination, but I intend to jot down a few random ideas picked up during the few hours I spent in ‘The Show.’ As to the buildings themselves, they are roughly put together, reminding one of a circus and a temporary Salvation barracks combined. The Oddfellows’ Hall has been utilised for the most valuable of the exhibits – pictures, curios, and the like – and in front of it has been erected a temporary facade which is the reverse of beautiful. However, one can hardly expect a Sir Joseph Paxton and a Crystal Palace in Waipawa, and so we mustn’t be captiously critical. But to the exhibits. The large hall and stage of the Oddfellows’ Hall is the main centre of attraction for the visitors. Here are the pictures and curios. An Invercargill artist, Mr Moreton[?], sends some fine water colours, the scenes depicted being tn the South Island, and the best, a view of the famous Otira Gorge. Mr Bloomfield, of Auckland, has pictures of the Pink and White Terraces, hidden now unhappily for ever, and some scenes in the Southern Alps. Two pictures of Mr Richmond Beetham are exhibited by Mr J.N. Williams, and afford proof of the loss New Zealand art has sustained by Mr Beetham’s death. A Mr Kirkwood sends some pictures of South Island scenery, which are of a very unequal merit, but he has a little gem ‘White Wings’ painted on opaque glass. The exhibits were so jumbled up, some of one class being mixed up with another, that it is difficult to describe the situation of any exhibit – I believe ‘White Wings’ is in a little room at the back of the main hall – it is well worth searching for. Our old friend Mr H. H. Murdoch – the Hastings Bulldog, as he is jocularly called – sends two extremely well-painted plaques, both depicting ‘doggy’ subjects, and some other pictures. Lindauer’s fine Maori portraits, shown by Mr Carnell, attract considerable attention, and so does a fine picture of the ‘Champagne Pool at Wairakei’ by Mr Aldis of Auckland. Excellent photos are shown by Mr Carnell and Mrs Cobb, some interesting photos and sketches of Napier in the early days also attracting attention. I must not forget a case of coloured photographs by a Wanganui lady, Miss Battle. These are extremely well done and attracted much admiration. There was a lot of purely amateur artistic work which could well have been away, also a number of German oliographs [oleographs], mostly hideous, and a few depicting the human female form divine with such a lack of costume as to excite the wrath of one Mrs Grundy from the Bush who said “come along and don’t stare at them, the[?] in the traditional manner. In the curio line the Exhibition comes out strong. There are the usual native mats and meres, South Sea Island and New Guinea curios, stuffed fish, stuffed animals and birds, boomerangs, old books, including a Vinegar Bible – which belonged to George the First, and which can (be) bought for a ten pound note – cheap I should say – there are coins interesting no doubt to a nuismatist [numismatist] ; old chinaware, Indian ornaments and goodness knows what besides. In what is called the

HOME INDUSTRIES

the ladies are all to the front. I though I had dropped ‘unbeknown like’ into a church bazaar, as the quilts, the mantel[?] drapes, the brackets, the crazy cushions, and the fancy work generally came into sight. Some of the work was really excellent. A Napier young lady, Miss Holt, sends a most wonderful quilt over which lady visitors gushed exceedingly, but I dare not attempt to criticise such essentially feminine productions as ‘one crossstitch work bracket drape,’ ‘one Gobelin work bracket,’ nor ‘one Mar[…]jue embroidered cushion.’ The fabrication of these as [is] a fearful and wonderful mystery to man – but suffice it to say, that there is a very good display of some very beautiful work in this line.

ODDS AND ENDS

of all sorts of useful and ornamental, and some neither the one nor the other are scattered about the main hall, and its side rooms. The enterprising Mr Napthali has a big show of pianos, which are to be purchased on liberal terms, and judging by the enquiries being made of him yesterday I should say he is not likely to regret his space. The genial ‘Nap’ has also a stall at which can be bought all sorts and conditions of fancy goods, jewellery, watches, etc, and this, with a knowledge of human nature which I give him great credit for, he artfully has placed under the charge of a very attractive Napier young lady. He should do well. The models are few, and not particularly striking. Of course there is the usual model steam engine – and a very clever bit of work too – model gardens, model houses[?] in cork and in wood, models of quartz mills, bridges, lent by the Public Works Department and others, but models are very dry things to my mind and so we’ll pass them and

GO ROUND THE ANNEXES

Beer is to the front in quantities enough to disgust the Rechabites and Good Templars – beer by Swan and beer by local brewers but all in barrels and bottles and all safe at present from the prying tongue of the tasting judges. There is also a fine display of bottled ales and stout by Messrs Newbiggin and Co., Napier. Mr Thos Ellery makes goodly exhibits of hop and horehound beers and Messrs Gilberd and Thomson, Gifford and Co., of Napier, come out very strong in aerated waters and cordials. All these bottled exhibits are tastefully arranged. Auckland has sent down quite a heap of exhibits, some of which attract much attention. Mr Firth – the celebrated Firth once of the Matamata Estate, and now owner of the ‘Eight Hours Roller Flour Mills’ in Auckland – has sent over two tons of flour, mairena, germina, and half a dozen other products from cereals. Auckland too send s a very ingenious incubator by Pelham and Roberts, but I prefer the incubator shown by Mr J. Mar […] of Tomoana which can accommodate 60 eggs at a time and practical proof of whose ability in the hatching line was given yesterday. An Auckland firm, Roberts and Fleming, show a patent kerosene tilt[?] which is very ingenious and which saves much kerosene, and prevents the use of much bad language to and by those who use it. This is well worth looking at, and Mr Adams, the gentleman who runs the Auckland exhibits, ought to do a good trade in the ‘Acme Kerosene Tin[?]’. I forgot when referring to the main building, to mention the display made by Kitchen and Sons, Weltington [Wellington]. They are just as much to the fore with their soaps, and their candles, and their baking powders and their blacking as ever and their exhibit is a very attractive one. It’s difficult for a man to ‘enthuse’ over such varied articles and products as sheep dip, oatmeal, mill belting, carbolated creosote, earth elements[?] ‘Balloon Baking Powder’ (so called I suppose from its raising qualities), and Climax Fire Extinguishers. Variety is charming, no doubt but it tends to a chaotical[?] state of mind, and when one has to dodge about from one end of the ground to[?] slightly exasperating. Good-bye then to all attempts to speak of exhibits in their classes. Let me take them as they come up to the memory.

ODDS AND ENDS ONCE MORE

There was a capital show of what was classed as cabinet and rustic work. I should like to spend a few pounds, if I had them, with Mr Jorginson of Napier and lay in a stock of his fernstands, his hanging pots, and his flower-stands, and were I possessed of a garden I should certainly speculate in the rustic garden tubs, garden seats, garden chairs and rustic tables shown by Mr Judd of Palmerston. The articles show excellent taste in construction and do not seem to be so fragile as this class of work generally is. A Kaikora man sends a splendid secretaire which would just suit the News editorial sanctum, but newspaper proprietors are stony-hearted these hard times, and £22 is a stiff price. There is a sideboard too and an inlaid table made by Mr Robinson, of Waipawa, which made many onlookers break the tenth commandment, and Mr Rush, of the City of Shrubs, sent some very creditable specimens of turnery. ‘Heave half a brick at him’ is what the Black Country rough says to his mate as a stranger passes along, but the gentleman in charge of ‘Glen and Grif’s’ exhibits of bricks and tiles wore a particularly cheerful look on his face as he presided over his bricks and the strangers inspected the excellent exhibits in peace. The quality was, as one bearded gentleman in the (illegible) he was evidently a connoisseur in the brick line ‘just as good as they makes ‘em at ‘ome,’ and with this dictum I left, feeling quite satisfied. From bricks to birds is a curious change, but while I have them in mind I must not forget the splendid specimens of taxidermy shown by Mr Alex Yuill of Napier. Some of the birds stuffed shown by this gentleman were really admirable, and there was a fox with a pheasant between his fore-paws which recalled Old Country reminiscences of the ‘tally-ho, yoicks, halloo, order’. ‘Alliteration’s artful aid’ is responsible for a change to buggies from birds. Mr Faulkner of Napier and Corskie, Shanly and Jones, of Waipawa, have sent some capital specimens of the carriage-builder’s art – the best to my mind being a real gem of a dogcart, with lancewood shafts, from our Napier factory and a Whitechapel cart – as natty a thing as you could wish for – from Mt Corskie’s shop.

AGRICULTURAL MACHINERY

Naturally, at a country exhibition, the above should be well to the front, and so it was yesterday. Having heard so much of the sheep-shearing machines I anxiously sought for the Barkquand[?] automatic sheep-shearing machine, which according to the catalogue – was to be shown in full work every day. Something, however, had gone wrong, or something was missing, and I was disappointed. However, the machine will be in working order by Saturday, and will be worked every day until 800 sheep have been shorn. Christchurch is the boss town in the colony in the plough and harrow line, and it was therefore not astonishing to see a good display made by Messrs Booth and Macdonald of that place. A Carlyle iron windmill and pump in work attracted some attention, and there was a patent disc-harrow and seed-sower[?] combined, over which the agricultural cognoscenti were loudly enthusiastic. Messrs Jones and Sons, of Waipukurau, made a goodly show, and Messrs Andrews and Beaven, of Christchurch, had a most ingenious, cheap, and useful cocksfoot thresher on view. This and a cocksfoot cleaner are exhibited by Messrs Fulton and Southwell, of Napier. Mr Fulton kindly gave me a lengthy description of the thresher, which, I regret, I have mislaid. A friend, however, who is an authority on matters agricultural, told me that the thresher and the cleaner are the only two machines of the kind he has ever seen, so my readers who are farmers should look out for the little tent in which they are shown. Of wool-presses there were several, and Messrs Finch and Fischer of Napier showed a very ingenious curilage[?] compressor, which should sell well. Most of these exhibits were shown in the Show Yard, where also were found

THE SIDE SHOWS

These were not of a particularly lively lively character. The Merry-go-round did a big business, although threepence for a ride for a child seems rather stiff. However’ ‘make hay while the sun shines’ is a good old adage, and the Merry-go-round man recognised the fact that a couple of thousand children are not in Waipawa every day in the year. The “two headed lamb” did only a poor business, but Punch and Judy are evidently as approved personages here as at home and the manipulators of the squeaking (illegible) raked in the dollars very fairly. An enterprising individual of Hibernian extraction attempted to run a skittle alley of a rather primitive character, but notwithstanding his cries of “Here you are, a shy for sixpence and a bob if all the pins is downed” he had to shut up early in the day. Aunt Sally was to the fore, and sundry small boys nearly had their shins broken by a hiccuppy joker who couldn’t or wouldn’t shy straight. There was also a shooting gallery which was fairly well patronised.

THE FOUR BANDS

were high in favour with the public. Everybody enjoys good music, and it was a relief to get out of the building, where the atmosphere was rather ‘high,’ into the fresh air. Waipawa’s own band exists no longer, unless in a state of coma[?], at any rate it was not there yesterday. The Garrison band played ‘The Bohemian Girl’ as they alone can play it, the Railway band were also to the fore, whilst the Woodville and Hastings musicians also helped. The wondrous head gear of the latter were the subject of much admiration. It is the helmet and the plumes which make the bandsman, is evidently the opinion of the Woodvilleites and the Hastings people. ‘Let the Garrison band trot out their silver buttoned ‘weskits,’ let the Railway band strut about in their white braided uniforms and their small neat caps, but we, ha, ha, we will pulverise them with our helmets.’ They certainly are immense. Joking apart, the bandsmen had a very great deal to do with the success of the day, and I’m sure they must have been very thirsty before the day was over. Mentioning thirst reminds one of refreshments, and so a word as to

THE TUCKER DEPARTMENT

This was mainly run by the host of the Empire. I believe he gave a capital lunch, at least no complaints came to my ears, and in the liquid refreshment line, the ‘drinks is all good’ as Mrs Gamp used to remark to her friend Betsy Prigs [Betsey Prigg]. An old acquaintance of political fame, the genial Jack Harker, gave a helping hand behind the bar, and although I believe the Rechabites and Templars of Waipawa are going ‘to raise Cain’ because such a thing as a drinking booth ‘pollutes the Exhibition’ very few folks yesterday appeared to trouble themselves about the blue ribbon anathemas, and Sandy Scrimgeour and his aides did a roaring business. In the Exhibition itself, cups of tea were delivered gratis, a privilege eagerly taken advantage of by the fair sex, whilst in out-of-the-way corners[?] family parties of an economical turn lunched al fresco[?] upon the contents of sundry parcels and baskets. Talking about tucker and liquors, do not let me forget to recount a conversation I heard before the exhi[…] spirits of Messrs Oastendy[?] Wellington. The ubiquitous[?] Maroney – a ‘broth of a boy’[?] the bush and in Napier – is this[?] and if he sees[?] , let him[?] learn and inwardly digest it. I[?] gaping abstractedly at a bar of soap, a patent cinder[?] -sifter, a pickle bottle, some patent paint, or some blessed thing or other when I heard the following. ‘Oh what a lovely b[…] that would make.’ The speaker was a sandy- haired, sallowish faced fellow in a big brimmed hat and high heeled boots (mark him ye Waipawa men in blue). ‘[…]’ d’yer call it, why we’d sanguinarily swim in it,’ replied the friend, ‘and look at there yer battens and this ere canvas, a slash of a sheath knife, and with George J – (wild horses won’t drag the name from me) to keep watch, and we can collar the lot.’ Oastendyk and what’s his name would look might sick if it came off’ says No. 2, ‘Blow (he really said something stronger), Oastendyk and Fake, said No. 1, ‘that’s their look out.’ Now Pat Maroney, me bhoy, I’m no informer, but for the love of your L[…] Dhu, the friendship I bear to ye – watch that whiskey or there’ll be some bottles missing. Of course Pat must put the ‘force[?] on guard.’ and the Waipawa ‘force[?]’ are good men there. Is not Denis Brosnahan there a ‘rale gintlemanly peeler,’ who for ‘style’ in walking in a procession, for picking up the ‘spieler’ and the drunken loafer of the district cannot be beaten? Look to it, Dennis, me bhoy, those canvas walled sheds are mighty thin and thief tempting. There are valuable goods within, and the promoters take no responsibility. Dennis, the eyes of Waipawa[?] are upon you. Keep a watchful guard over the treasures of the ‘Waipawa Wonder’ or there’ll be trouble.

STILL MORE ODDS AND ENDS

Higgle-de-piggledy is the general order of the ‘Wonder’ and higgle-de-piggledy must be my notes. In class B in the catalogue, I spotted No. 77, specimens of shorthand writing – 30[?] styles exhibited by J. T. C. Cook. This alphabetically named gentleman is I believe, identical with the sub- editor of the[?] – press[?]. He also struts under public gaze as ‘Galery[?]’ and has recently got off much wishy washy twaddle about a Australian trip under the nom-de-plume of ‘One of the Fifteen’. Of any different styles of shorthand writing I am ignorant, but of the fifty, nay a hundred and fifty, styles of Daily Telgraphese[?] I am alas only too cognisant. […]. out the great Cook’s exhibit but it is not to be found. If his shorthand specimens are of a merit equal to his longhand and longworded effusions in the Daily Butterwrapper, the visitors to the Exhibition can congratulate themselves upon the ‘specimens’ being out of sight. A word or two concerning the future arrangements in connection with the ‘Wonder’. A poultry and bird show are ‘down’ for December 6 and 7, a farm and dairy produce show for December 8, a dog and cat show for December 10 and a fruit, flower and vegetable ditto for December 11. These no doubt will prove big draws. As to the band contest, I could gain no definite information, so must be silent thereon. On the whole the ‘Waipawa Wonder’ is well worth a visit and certainly reflects great credit on those who have floated the enterprise. Personally I have to thank Mr B. B. Johnson, the secretary, and Mr J. T. M. Hornsby for the assistance they afforded me, and I trust that when the affair is all over and the accounts all paid, that a substantial surplus will reward their efforts and those with whom they are associated.

Where is that Balance-Sheet?

WHAT THE WANGANUI HERALD SAYS

Yesterday we published an article dealing with the Norsewood Relief Fund and the conduct of the Treasurer, Edward William Knowles, in not producing a balance sheet in connection therewith. We notice that outside papers have also taken the matter up, the reason being that money was subscribed in other districts besides Hawke’s Bay and the subscribers naturally desire to know what has become of the cash.

The Wanganui Herald in a leading article has the following under the heading of ‘WHERE IS THE BALANCE SHEET.’ There is a contrast to be drawn, not by any means in favour of Hawke’s Bay, from the manner in which the accounts for the Stratford and Norsewood Relief Funds were treated. It will be within the recollections of our […] that in Mayor Spurdle’s term […] the first of these bush […] public sympathy was […] lists[?] were got out, money and […] collected, food, fencing wire and what not purchased and delegates appointed to visit the spot. When all was over, and long before the matter had become one of historical interest only, a balance sheet was drawn up and duly audited and published by the treasurer, to satisfy, as it did, those who had subscribed. Two years later, during Mayor Laird’s reign, a similar catastrophe happened in Hawke’s Bay, and one of the first to […] asking if assistance was required was the Mayor of Wanganui. The reply […] money was wanted, and money was […] raised, till through the petty[?] […] bungling of some people of the […] were told to send no more. […] pounds of Wanganui money went […] and more could easily have been got. […] this money was spent we know not. […] notice that the Wairarapa Star says that the last payment was made on August 16th, and we should imagine that a longer period than 3½ months was not required for an audit and proper balance sheet. We must say that we think it reflects discreditably on those who had charge of the fund (Mr Swan, Mayor of Napier, was the gentleman we believe to whom Mr Laird sent the Wanganui contributions) that those who contributed should have to ask for a balance sheet. The bush-fire season is coming round again, and unless some account of how that money went is given there is every probability that when next called on Wanganui may decline to respond as liberally, and that by the carelessness of Hawke’s Bay the deserving in other parts who need relief may be sufferers. We notice that the Evening News has taken up the matter, why do not the Telegraph and H. B. Herald?

[The reason is, in the case of the Telegraph, that the treasurer of the fund, Edward William Knowles, is the proprietor of that paper. – ED, NEWS]