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SMALL NEWS ITEMS.

 

MR. GLADSTONE.

 

*      MR. GLADSTONE attended the EARL and COUNTESS of ABERDEEN's garden party last Saturday afternoon, but the right hon. gentleman made no speech.  MR. GLADSTONE is stated to be suffering from hoarseness.  Is it any wonder ?  The wonder to us is that the right hon. gentleman has any voice left at all.

 

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         Some poet without a name has sent us the following, but we don't know anything about the case: -

 

"Last Saturday a "forward" in a certain football team,

Wrote a letter to a lady, that spread over half a ream;

He called her "duck" and "darling" and other things as sweet,

But he went and lost the letter, somewhere in Finkle-street,

 

A gallant soldier found it, and didn't he just laugh,

And when he meets that "forward" you bet there'll be some chaff;

But the ladylove will never know that letter sweet was lost,

For the finder put a stamp on it and dropped it in the Post.

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          Here is one of the grand old men of our own district.  MR. ROBERT ADAIR is the oldest journalist in the North of England, so far as we are aware, and half-a-century ago he was a man who had to be reckoned with in all public matters affecting Maryport and district.  MR. ADAIR was 86 on the 23rd April, and is the last of a family of 13, ten brothers and three sisters, who all grew up to be men and women, some of them being men of remarkable experiences.  His nephew MR. R. ADAIR, Pow-street, is one of our best known and respected tradesmen.

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          It is said that during the time cholera was so bad in West Cumberland, hundreds died through sheer fear.  MR. ROBERT ADAIR once told us that he was sent for to see a man in Maryport who was supposed to be dying of the cholera.  MR. ADAIR went and looked at the man, made him put out his tongue, felt his pulse, &c., and then said in a most confident tone, "Why man, you have passed the crisis, you are certain to get better."  The man did get better, and MR. ADAIR says, "I felt very much like an imposter, for I knew nothing whatever about the disease, but I saw the man was dying of fear, and if I hadn't acted as I did, he would have died in a few hours."  We have no doubt at all that MR. ADAIR was right in his opinion, but the moral is - Be prudent as you like, but resist fear with a mighty resistance.

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          We heard a tale this week that is worth telling, but we dare not say where it happened.  A clerical looking gentleman, in the hope of obtaining a contribution, entered the office of a weekly paper, and, finding the editor at the desk, said - "I am soliciting aid for a high-toned gentleman of refinement and intelligence, who is in need of a little ready money, but is too proud to make known his sufferings."

          "Why !" exclaimed the editor, "I'm the only man in town that answers that description.  What's the gentleman's name ?"

          "I am not at liberty to disclose his name."

          "It must be me, Parson.  God bless you, and prosper you in your good work," said the editor, wiping away a tear.

          The editor says that the look the Parson gave him as he went out will haunt him in his grave.  And so it should.

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          "B" - the author of the lines below about ground-rents - has our sympathy.  We would much like to see ground-rents, royalty rents, and all kinds of lords' rents be abolished.  They certainly cripple commerce.

 

GROUND RENT.

 

O could there in this town be found

A little bit of building ground

Free from this awful "ground-rent";

'Twould vex a saint's immortal soul,

And make him yell and jump and howl

To have to pay this "ground-rent."

 

The Squire, and others such as he,

Can yacht and play and have their spree,

But hard-worked devils such as me

May toil and sweat for ground-rent.

 

The Local Board and Water Rate,

The Income-Tax and Poor's Rate,

School Board and Police and every rate

Are not enough; there's "ground-rents"/

 

Landlords may well be fat and smart

When fed by rents and "ground-rents."

 

Workington.........................................B.

 

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*

 

          Here is one of the grand old men of our own district.  MR. ROBERT ADAIR is the oldest journalist in the North of England, so far as we are aware, and half-a-century ago he was a man who had to be reckoned with in all public matters affecting Maryport and district.  MR. ADAIR was 86 on the 23rd April, and is the last of a family of 13, ten brothers and three sisters, who all grew up to be men and women, some of them being men of remarkable experiences.  His nephew MR. R. ADAIR, Pow-street, is one of our best known and respected tradesmen.

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*

          It is said that during the time cholera was so bad in West Cumberland, hundreds died through sheer fear.  MR. ROBERT ADAIR once told us that he was sent for to see a man in Maryport who was supposed to be dying of the cholera.  MR. ADAIR went and looked at the man, made him put out his tongue, felt his pulse, &c., and then said in a most confident tone, "Why man, you have passed the crisis, you are certain to get better."  The man did get better, and MR. ADAIR says, "I felt very much like an imposter, for I knew nothing whatever about the disease, but I saw the man was dying of fear, and if I hadn't acted as I did, he would have died in a few hours."  We have no doubt at all that MR. ADAIR was right in his opinion, but the moral is - Be prudent as you like, but resist fear with a mighty resistance.

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