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Gisborne Times, Volume XXVI, Issue 2272, 18 August 1908, Page 1

[Correspondence 911 public matters is welcomed at all times, but it must bo distinctly understood that this journal is in no way associated with the opinions of its correspondents.]

NO-LIOENSE

[To the Editor.]

Sir, —A correspondent, ‘‘What Now,” in your issue of Wednesday takes exception to my indulging in a speculative theory as to tho existence of any connection between the \i ai111ata mud springs and the Invercargill prohibition “bubble” lately pricked by Mr. Harnett, of tho_ football team. Tho experts will decide thatpoint- between us. lam also accused of not believing the Mayor instead of Mr. Harnett. I was simply commenting 011 press reports, and did. and still do, give tho Mayor and Councilors unstinted credit for what they did not sec, and I also claim tor Mr. Harnett credit for wliat lie saw. It is unfortunate that Mr. Harnett could not get more on the “bubble as well as on the ball, as the evidence of an unbiased mind would have been invaluable. The Invercargill official police report is before me. It states that the drunks handled in 190i-8 wore 86. it not bo more than probablo that somo of these gentry, finding tho house a bit dull, wero taking the air when Mr. Harnett was looking around the. city? It is iio wonder that a body ol men like the footballers, fresh from a free country, should be taken aback when introduced to a city where tlio people were .living under coercion. Last election a paid agitator of the prohibitionists (9s per day and beer galore) laid before me the reasons why I should also join them. The one on which the most stress was laid was this, that in the event of prohibition being carried it would make 110 difference to me, as I could always keep two gallons in tho house. I replied that the most loathsome of reptiles to me was a hyiKicrite. Should this blight of prohibition, yyitli its attendant accessories (which cannot be mentioned here), be allowed to defile this electorate, we may yet hear ill the summer evenings the voices of our girls crooning with tears in their eyes snatches of that old home ballad, “Where is my lover, oil, where is lie gone!” Alii Where? —I am, etc., “QUID NUNC.”