Toowoomba Pet Fox May 25, 1895.

*THE WORKER*

BRISBANE, MAY 25, 1895.

Interview with Mr. John Hamilton, M.L.A.,

and the

Toowoomba Pet Fox.

A Dream.

Shortly after the publication of the last of a series of interviews which were running through the WORKER, this paper instructed the gentleman in whose province this class of work lies to wait upon and obtain an interview with the member for the Cook, Mr. John Hamilton.

As our readers are no doubt aware of the belligerent proclivities of the parliamentarian in question, it can be easily understood that our representative viewed his mission as an undertaking fraught with considerable danger. His request for a week's grace was readily complied with. He informs us that in the interval he was wont to adjourn to the Enoggera ranges daily in order to perfect himself in the science of revolver shooting. When at length he had attained something like the necessary proficiency he adjourned to Parliament House to fulfil his mission. We append his account of the affair:

“Arming myself with a Colt's five-chamber, a supply of explosive cartridges, and a bowie knife, I entered the precincts of the House, and, sending up my card to Mr. Hamilton, took up my position behind a stone pillar which commanded the staircase, and with my shooting-iron cocked stood ready.

* * *

“I waited for some time without result. Something attracted my attention behind me, with the result that I injudiciously exposed myself for a moment, whereupon a bullet fired from the staircase tore a piece out of the pillar within three inches of my head. I knew at once that Mr. Hamilton was on the warpath.

“With the stealth and cunning of an Apache Indian I retaliated. For a time the air was full of the smoke of powder and the shrill sound of whistling bullets. I was, I regret to say, no match for my opponent, one of whose bullets lodged in my intestines, and I fell forward on my face, mortally wounded.

“Mr. Hamilton thereupon courteously rang up the ambulance, and I was conveyed to the hospital unconscious, where I have since been lying betwixt life and death.”

[EDITORIAL NOTE – It has come to our ears privately that our interviewer, who the readers of the WORKER will have already perceived is a romancer of the first water, had been unavoidably detained during the last few months at Boggo-road picking oakum. We understand his incarceration was due to his having burnt down a woolshed at Thursday Island – a place we are prepared to swear by all that is sacred our interviewer has never seen, consequently the narrative must be taken cum grano salis.]

* * *

Acting under instructions I proceeded to Lytton to await the arrival of the Lucinda from her trip north. As she approached the mouth of the river I procured a boat and boarded her.

As I stepped on board I unavoidably trod upon the recumbent figure of the member for the – who had been drunk nearly all through the trip, and quite disgusted the Colonial Secretary. This person was reclining gracefully in the lee scuppers hosing his head to its normal dimensions in order that he might don the hat he started with. The deck hands were busy clearing the decks of debris – champagne bottles, broken wine glasses, soda bottles, surplus jellies, &c., &c., which had accumulated to such an extent as to seriously impede locomotion along the deck. Ignoring the multitudinous requests to come and 'ave a nip,” I made my way astern to a spot where Mr. W. H. Groom, the junior member for Toowoomba, sat pathetically gazing across the bay.

“You appear to have a good time of it?” I observed.

“Oh, don't mention it,” said he, with a rueful visage. “We have a real tip-top jingbang time of it. Half of them have had to put on their hats with bootjacks this morning. Poor – there won't get over it in a hurry. I'll warrant. We have had a rorty old spree, I can tell you. Gad, if the temperance people were only to get wind of our doings we'd have a hot reception at the next election.”

* * *

“Yes, we're back rather earlier than we expected, but that was owing to an unforeseen circumstance. You see the champagne ran out, and we had to return. We couldn't stand the provincial brands.”

“You are credited, Mr. Groom, with having politically endeavoured to turn yourself inside out during this junketing expedition. I dare say those lying telegraphic correspondents have been misrepresenting you as usual.”

“True, very true. I am the Brisbane correspondent of the Toowoomba Chronicle myself, so I know just what they are capable of; but apart from that I believe I did say some funny things over which I am a bit shaky now, but it was all owing to that old beggar Nelson. He's a hypnotist. He hypnotised me. The art of hypnotism is already being largely studied and applied in the sphere of politics. It is the secret of success in leadership, and the old bloke is a dab at it I can tell you. Tommy Byrnes and Tozer are practising it for all they are worth, but although Byrnes can do it a little, poor old Horry can't make any progress at all. Of course the Colonial Secretary can't spare as much time as the other aspirants – he wastes so much of it in trying to explain away his 'inaccuracies.'”

* * *

“You say you didn't find unemployed out west, Mr. Groom?”

“Well, of course I couldn't ascertain, but I thought it was quite good enough to follow Tozer's example. You see if the people in work are certain there are thousands of men in the colony out of employment they will require the Government to in some way find employment for them, and as the present Government would not agree to do so, the voters might turn them out. That would not suit my book. I don't want to see wages too high, and we can only keep wages down by having a large body of unemployed to compete with one another for employment. No, no; we must silence this cry of thousands of unemployed, and if we men of position only keep repeating it often enough the crowd in work who have votes may think there's plenty of employment for all who require it, and our party of law and order may reign for another few years. I suppose you know Powers and I attended a cause meeting of the Government on the Coercion Act? No1 Oh well, we did. Give Charlie a rub about it. I know your Maryborough workers think a lot of him over his opposition to the Coercion Act, but he was willing to suppose all but two clauses of it!”

* * *

“What do you think of this new fad of Bimetallism?” said the WORKER man.

“Well, we've had a caucus meeting on the subject while we've been coming down, and it's likely enough it will be worked for all it is worth. You see, the alarming growth of the doctrines of social science is an element to be reckoned with in modern politics. Now what we want to do is to excite dissension between the bimetallists and monometallists so that the real issue that lie behind them may be forgotten in the squabble. Freetrade and Protection are already played out. They served the same purpose for a good many years. What we want now is something to replace them, and the bimetallic question is the very idea. We intend to make it the test question at the next election.”

“What side do you propose taking. Mr. Groom?”

“Well,” said the old gentlemen, “It is said I make it a point never to take any side; that I've been 30 odd years in Parliament; that I know a thing or two; and that the seat of my pants is worn threadbare straddling the fence for so long. But of course I don't agree with this.”

* * *

“You are then still in hopes of getting into the Cabinet, Mr. Groom?”

“Well, I don't know whether I will get there this time or not, but anyhow old Santa Claus Nelson is sure to put something in my stocking.”

“But the Toowoomba people -”

“Oh, leave them to me. Do you think I have lived among them a generation without knowing how to lead them about by the nose. My constituency consists principally of Germans and silly people who go like sheep wherever the bellwether takes them, and I take good care to keep sweet with the bellwether, and kiss the German babies. 'Nothing like soft sawder and human nature,' as Sam Slick says.”

Hereupon Mr. Groom executed a pas de seul, humming at the same time the popular “ 'E don't know where'e are!”

From the lee scuppers came a hoarse rancour voice exclaiming “Oh, for God's sake, shut up!”

* * *

Down through the fanlight the WORKER saw into the cabin of the Colonial Secretary who was busily occupied cleaning his teeth with a hair brush, while Tommy Byrnes' valet was paring the toe-nails of his master. Old Nelson was down on his hands and knees scrambling after a collar-stud which had rolled under the berth, while Coercionist Leahy was rubbing his rubicund cheeks with a piece of billard chalk in order that he might present a decent appearance when the vessel arrived at the wharf.

The WORKER representative took a stroll up on the promenade deck where the Hon. R. C. White, of the N.S.W. Legislative Council, was walking alone with a disgusted look on his face.

“What do you think of them?” asked the WORKER man.

“Well,”said the New South Welshman, “I've seen some hogs in my time, but this push about caps anything I've ever come across. That chap Tozer, for instance, has done nothing but talk about himself for the past fortnight, and, instead of spending the colony's money in boozing up these miserable wretches, you would think by the airs he gives himself that he was spending his own; and that chap in the lee scuppers would do honour to a black's camp. No more parliamentary expeditions for me – not in Queensland, at any rate. Good-bye,” he said, as the vessel touched the wharf, “rub it into the nincompoops; you can't give it to them too hot. Look at Byrnes and his valet - his valet! Ha! Ha! Ha!”