A LADY’S LETTER FROM AUCKLAND.

Gisborne Standard and Cook County Gazette, Volume V, Issue 649, 20 August 1891, Page 3

A LADY’S LETTER FROM AUCKLAND.

IBy Standard Siicur, Pobbe&fokdbxt— Anguet 3, The Parnell entertainment last Tuesday evening was a great success. The little ball was almost too crowded, and judging by the numbers of ladies who had oome from Onehunge, Bemuera and Princes Street, I should say the unkind remarks of some peoule as to these evenings being solely confines to Parnell residents, and girls from others places being rigorously excluded, had little foundation in fact. "They call us the 1 Parnell Mutual Protection Society 1* Did you ever hear such a thing ?” indignantly demands one after another of the Parnell kittens, Such a crowd io such a little room AmimA a buss of voices. The first waits is intended to clear the course, but as soon as it

ends the centre < f the dancing floor is filled again. An elaborate pianoforte duet by Mrs I Carre and Mrs Cremonini makes a most excellent accompaniment to the animated conversation in the hall. When it is finished politely murmured “ Thank-you’s ” echo far and near, but not more than half a dozen people present would have been prepared to swear that the performers had not been playing “Woodland Whispers ” or the “Canary Birds Quadrille.” However, the two ladies, having the success of the entertainment more at heart than their own glorification, look as pleased as if they had been rapturously applauded by the most critical audience in the world. The event of the evening is number 5 on the programme—Haydn’s 11 Toy Symphony.” It is preceded by a wholesale eviction of the chaperons who had found comfortable chairs on the stage, and by a mysterous drawing together of the curtains. When they are drawn apart the orchestra is displayed prettily grouped, with their lillipntian instruments ready for business. The conductor, Miss Emily Reeve, looks most graceful in her pretty pale green evening dress. She glances round her orchestra swiftly—then the baton is raised and one bar beaten to give the time, and with the next decided down beat the piece commences. It goes capitally. The harmony and volume ot sound obtained from the toys is surprising to those who have never before heard the work so rendered. The minuet with its duet for the cuckoos and nightingales, and later on the graceful melody of the voices, sounds sweetly pretty, while the closing presto movement is attacked well and carried through with grand swing, the final chords being rendered well together and ending sharply—no ragged edges. The performance lasts ten minutes, and is listened to in dead silence. It is loudly applauded, but the performers are too merciful to inflict a repeat upon a standing audience.

I believe I have not told you the names of the performers, nor their instruments. The vocalists are Mrs Kilgour and Miss H. Buck (who looks lovely in a cream evening dress), sopranos; and Mrs Gus Coates, contralto ; Miss O’Brien and Miss J. Reeve are the violinists ; Miss Anderson’s drum and Miss Walker's tambourine are manipulated In a Way that has won special praise for Herr Schmitt • Miss Way worth—whose dark green dress Is trimmed with the fashionable jewelled passementerie, rather a novelty here —brings in the corncrake with excellent effect, while Mrs C. Pollen wields an Infantile looking bell rattle. Bath trumpets—the C and the G—are in the hands of Miss Kissling, who has a difficult task In discriminating between the two. Miss George and Miss Ruck are provided with triangles. The euckoos, Mrs Ward and Miss C. Walker, are rather nervous, and their gentle little notes are almost lost except when they come in alone, as they mostly do. Miss F, ChurtOn produces the most ravishing trills and bursts of liquid melody from the short pipe which goes by the name of a nightingale. There can be no mistake about the canary with which Miss Kilgour supplements the more piercing notes of the “ Song-bird of night," for the little yellow creature perches at the top of the pipe through which she blows, and wags its head and its tail in due proportion tJ tbs amount of fervour which is thrown into its impassioned lay.

When dancing has begun again it Is possible to get a glimpse of some of the gowns. Miss Walker’s surah silk—white striped, with very pretty pals blue—is one of the prettiest. The skirt has a tolerably long train, which is, however, detached from the underskirt, and lined with lace, so that it looks equally pretty when held up by two ribbons while dancing, or trailing during the promenade. The bottom of the skirt is finished with three flounces heads 1 with an almost invisible line of palest pink and a great cluster of pink rosea starting high up on the right side and ending in a straggling spray. Miss Power looks charming in a maize sa’in, trimmed with beautifully fine cream lace. The color, the puffed elbow sleeves of the filmy lace, and the Grecian style in which her hair is worn, suit her exactly. The cotillion causes much amusement. Some of the dancers undoubtedly resort to artifice in order to control fate in the allotment ot partners. But these are the exception. The majority enjoy the aeet of uneertainty, and in some cases are visibly embarrassed at finding they have drawn utter strangers. A Shakspearian reading by Mrs Goodhue and Miss Waymouth is an additional attraction in the programme of the evening’s entertainment.

Several novelties in the way of advertising have been resorted to lately by Auckland tradesmen. One enterprising hatter hires a band of music, and gives Saturday evening concerts free, A still more startling innovation in quiet little Auckland is the adoption of customs common enough in larger cities. Passing down Queen Street one afternoon I met a mournful looking little procession of six men walking in single file, in short dress-ing-gowns of almost wonderful, flowered pattern. Each was holding over his head on the end of a stick quite the " latest ’’ thing in hats. The crowns were at least two feet high, and not more than six inches in diameter, while the brims stood out a considerable distance, and very fully followed the line of beauty—if every curve is to be considered such. On the black background of the high crown the advertisement appeared in large white letters. I thought? of the burning indignation with which Thomas Carlyle would have regarded such a display—of the outburst of scorn and contempt which a similar scene in London provoked. Many will remember the passage in " Past and Present ”: — “ The Hatter in the Strand of London, instead of making batter felt hats than another, mounts a huge lath-and-plaeter hat, seven feet high, upon wheels ; sends a map to drive it through the streets) hoping to be saved thereby. He has not attempted to make better hate, as he was appointed by the Universe to do, and as with this ingenuity of his he could very probably have done ; but his whole industry is turned to penuadf us that he hag made such I He, too, knows thit the Quack has become God. Laugh not at him, 0 reader; or da not laugh only. He has ceased to be comic f he is fast becoming tragic." One cannot help thinking how swift the descept hag been since these and the memorable words which follow them were written—how much mere hollowness js covered by pretension now than then—how much more universal the system of conducting business on the credit of established names, and consequently how much nearer the final catastrophe.