Melbourne Observer. 130220B. February 20, 2013. Part B. Pages 15-24, 57-66 by Ash Long

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Melbourne Observer - Wednesday, February 20, 2013 - Page 15

PHILOSOPHER’S SCRAPBOOK Passing Of A Pal

Gentle-natured, faithful, loving, kind, Can I believe behind those speaking eyes Now glazed in death, No soul existed; Or that somewhere, in the vast spaces of the Beyond One friend awaits me, patient, expectant eyed, As in life he watched my every step Quick with joy at kindly word or thought Spoken or expressed The dumb that could not speak By word of mouth, Yet whose brown eyes held speech That I, poor dolt, could not In my puny mind translate. Just a dog -my pal. Yet could I know that "over there" In that Valhalla to which this life Is but short journey When my spirit feet have trod the portals, One stood within, four-footed, rapturous To welcome me, as in these days just passed, I'd easier go at my appointed time, To meet just punishment or reward For ill or good committed In this vale of tears; Did I but know that in The untrod regions of that unknown space Awaiting me-to guide my infant spirit steps Would be - Just a dog - My Pal. - Monty Blandford (On the death of his beloved bulldog ‘Wog’)

Important Job I may fail to be as clever as my neighbour down the street, I may fail to be as wealthy as some other men I meet, I may never win the glory which a lot of men have had, But I've got to be successful as a little fellow's dad. There are certain dreams I cherish which I'd like to see come true, There are things I would accomplish ere my time of life is through; But the task my heart is set on is to guide a little lad And to make myself successful as that little fellow's dad. I may never come to glory, I may never gather gold. Men may list me with the failures when my business life is told; But if he who follows after shall be manly, I'll be glad For I'll know I've been successful as that little fellow's dad. It's the one job that I dream of, it's the task I think of most, If I failed that growing youngster, I'd have nothing else to boast For though wealth and fame I'd gather all my fortune would be sad If I'd failed to be successful as that little fellow's dad. - E.A.G.

It couldn’t be done ... so he did it Somebody said that it couldn't be done, But he, with a chuckle, replied That "Maybe it couldn't," but he would be one Who wouldn't say so -till he tried. So he buckled right in, with a trace of a grin On his face. If he worried he hid it. He started to sing as he tackled the thing That couldn't be done - and he did it. Somebody scoffed, "Oh, you'll never do that; At least, no one ever has done it," But he took off his coat, and he took off his hat, And the first thing we knew - he'd begun it.

With the lift of his chin, and a bit of a grin, Without any doubting or quitting, He started to sing as he tackled the thing That couldn't be done - and he did it. There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done, There are thousands to prophesy failure, There are thousands to point to you one by one, The dangers that wait to assail you. But just buckle in with a grin, Then take off your coat and go to it, Just start in to sing as you tackle the thing That "cannot be done"- and you'll do it.

Monday, it’s Washing Day I'm an inoffensive householder, I don't philosophise, I rent a flat in Camberwell, I'm neither rich nor wise, My outlook's quite suburban but you must give me my due I know how many beans make five, I've learned a thing or two. And that power of observation, which undoubtedly is mine Has lately been attracted to the washing on the line. I note each Monday morning as my train goes rattling on, The back yards that we pass evince the same phenomenon There's no woman at her washing, you can see the evidence, And it's often most intriguing, stretched across from fence to fence. There are sheets and shirts a-shining in a spotless, snowy state, And camisoles - and other things I shan't enumerate. Though differing in detail every prospect is the same, That that's at all remarkable of course I do not claim. No, my point (which very likely you

will all regard as bosh) Is that everybody's linen every Monday gets a wash, And by Wednesday at latest, it looks just as good as new. Now, wouldn't it be wonderful if we were like that, too? I say, wouldn't it be wonderful if you and I, old scout, Could every Monday morning get a

thorough doing out, Put our notions through the wringer, take the starch out of our brains, Wash the dirt from our conceptions, and then drop it down the drains, And by Wednesday at latest have a nice clean point of view, And our funny old ideas all washed white and good as new? - Allan Dawes

Providence saved my life Have you ever been broke? Just broke to the wide? With what you stand up in, and nothing beside? Living on scraps the best part of the week, when you can get 'em, and with nowhere to sleep. I've been like that on a cold winter's night - when the streets were deserted, and nothing in sight but a slowmoving ‘bobby’ whose job is to see that the public is protected from people like me, who. get put inside to answer in court why they're wandering about without means of support. It always strikes me as a queer sort of joke, to pick on a man just because he is broke. Life isn't worth much when you get to that state of just waiting to die with nowhere to wait. I remember the time, it's a long while ago, when I stood on a bridge with the river below. The last food I'd had was two days before, and I never expected I'd need any more. The night was the worst that ever I'd known, with a dirty wet fog, that chilled to the bone. I set my teeth hard, and I set down my heel on the rail that my hands were too perished to feel when a snivelling pup came out of the fog and whimpered to me (just a scrap of a dog, bedraggled and dirty like me) - just a wreck, with Oh, such a sad little face on his poor scraggy neck. A few seconds more and I would have died, but he licked my hand, and I sat down and cried. And I covered the poor little mite in my coat, and carried him off with a lump in my throat. I took him along to the one place I knew where they'd give him a bed and a biscuit or two. They didn't seem keen on taking him in, but the sergeant in charge, gave a bit of a grin when I told him the dog could do with a meal. He said, "I'll fix him up, but how do you feel ?" It may be perhaps the sergeant had seen the state I was in - I wasn't too clean.

Cigarettes

You may talk about our enemies, But I have never met, Such a soul-and-body killer. As the noxious cigarette. For it hardens up your arteries, And it makes your bloodstream bad And it finally has you scuttled, If you don't give it up, my lad. You like to have a good time To play and sing and dance, But if a sickness comes to you, It does reduce your chance. To be smart, you have to do it, In this world so big and wide, But the live fish swim 'gainst currents, It's the dead go with the tide. Once the bulwark of a nation, Always practical and keen, Now the hand that rocks the cradle Is besmudged with nicotine. Once a breath as sweet as morning, Like the early roses wet, Now she kisses baby's gold curls, Through the smoke of a cigarette. You say I'm too old-fashioned, But it would be good indeed, If our women led in victory O'er this soul-destroying weed. And now the war is ended, Did I gamble, I'd make bets That the world would be much better If it gave up cigarettes. - Pearl C Ellison

Her Heaven: An Epitaph The hunger and cold that I'd suffered all day, exhausted my limits, and I fainted away. Well, they fed me and slept me, and gave me two bob, and the following day they gave me a job. I've worked ever since, and I've put a bit by. I'm comfortable now, and I don't want to die. I've a nice little house in a quiet little street, with a decent-sized garden, that's kept nice and neat. I've worked there a lot when I've had time to spare, and I'm so proud of one little corner that's there, with the pick of my flowers round a little old stone, that stands on the corner, all on its own. It bears an inscription not very grand - the letters are crooked, but you'll understand that I wasn't too steady - I couldn't quite see at the time I carved it, quite, quite, recently. And these are words that I carved on the stone: "Here lies my friend, when I was alone, Hopeless and friendless, just lost in a fog - God saved my life, with the help of a dog. - NosMo King

"Here lies a poor woman who always was tired, She lived in a house where help was not hired, Her last words on earth were "Dear friends, I am going Where washing ain't done, nor sweeping. nor sewing, But everything there is exact to my wishes For where they don't eat, there's no washing of dishes, I'll be where loud anthems will always be ringing, But, having no voice, I'll be clear of the singing, Don't mourn for me now; don't mourn for me never I'm going to do nothing for ever and ever "

Page 16 - Melbourne Observer - Wednesday, February 20, 2013

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PHILOSOPHER’S SCRAPBOOK The Wasp And the Bee A wasp met a bee that was buzzing by, And he said, "Little cousin, can you tell me why You are loved so much better by people than I? My back shines as bright and yellow as gold, And my shape is most elegant, too, to behold, Yet nobody likes me, for that I am told," "Ah, cousin," the bee said, "'tis all very true, But if I had half as much mischief to do, Indeed they would love me no better than you. You have a fine shape and a delicate wing, They own you are handsome, but then there's one thing, They cannot put up with, and that is your sting. My coat is quite homely and plain, as you see, Yet nobody ever is angry with me, Because I'm a humble and innocent bee," From this little story let people beware, Because, like the wasp, if ill-natured they are They will never be loved if they're ever so fair.

Life Man comes into the world without his consent, and leaves it against his will. On earth he is misjudged and misunder stood. In infancy he is an angel, in boyhood a little devil, in manhood he is a fool. If he has a wife and family he is a chump, if a bachelor he is inhuman. If he enters a public house, he is a drunkard, if he stays out be is a miser. If he is a poor man he has no brains, if he is rich he has all the luck in the world. If he has brains he is considered smart, but dishonest. If he goes to church he is a hypocrite, if he stays away he is a sinful man. If he gives to charity, it is adver tisement, if he does not he is stingy and mean. When he comes into the world everybody wants to kiss him, before he goes out everyone wants to kick him. If he dies a young man there was a great future before him, if he lives to a ripe old age everybody hopes he has made a will. LIFE ISAFUNNY PROPOSITION !

Gone fishin’

A fellow isn't thinking mean - out fishin' His thoughts are mostly good and clean out fishin' He doesn't knock his fellow-men Or harbour any grudges then, A feller's at his finest when-out fishing' The rich are comrades to the poor out fishin', All brothers of the common lure - out fishin', The urchin with the pin and string Can chum with millionaire or king Vain pride is a forgotten thing -out fishin'. A feller gets a chance to dream - out fishin', He learns the beauty of the stream out fishin', And he can wash his soul in air That isn't foul with selfish care,

And relish plain and simple fare -out fishin'. A feller has no time for hate-out fishin', He isn't eager to be great - out fishin', He isn't thinking thoughts of self, Or goods piled high upon the shelf, But is always just himself -out fishin'. A feller's glad to be a friend - out fishin'. A helping hand he'll lend - out fishin', The brotherhood of rod and line, And sky and stream is always fine, Men come close to God's design - out fishin'. A feller isn't plotting schemes - out fishin', He's only busy with his dreams - out fishin', His livery is a coat of tan, His creed to do the best he can, A feller's always mostly man - out fishin'.

A Woman’s ‘If’

If we can sit among a crowd of gossips, And not repeat the scandal that we've heard; If we can know aught of another's business, And not betray it by a single word; If we can smile and still, inside, feel kindly When other women hint our hats are frights, If we can sit upon a church committee, And not involve ourselves in any fights; If we can go to a bargain sale counter, And neither shove nor elbow our way in;

If we can keep our hearts from pride, or triumph, Should any of our neighbours chance to sin; If we can loyal be to one who's absent At gatherings when we hear folks run her down; If we can keep our tempers at the moment The clothes line breaks, or kiddies act the clown; If we can go through life with kindly tolerance, And keep our faith in God until it ends, Then when there comes to us the great transition We rank as WOMEN and not cats, my friends.

Give your heart to a dog Buy a pup and your money will bring Love unflinching that cannot lie Perfect passion and worship fed By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head. Nevertheless it is hardly fair, To risk your heart for a dog to tear. When the fourteen years which nature permits, Are closing in -asthma or tumor or fits, And the vet's unspoken prescription To lethal chambers or loaded guns, Then you will find it's your own affair, But-you've given your heart for a dog to tear. When the body that lived at your single will, When the whimper of welcome is stilled - how still. When the spirit that answered your every word, Is gone- wherever it goes -for good, You will discover how much you care, And will give your heart to a dog to tear.

Wanted! a spot to live in Where there is peace and joy, A place full of contentment, That nothing can destroy. Where all the folk I meet each day Are friends, in the truest sense. Where my mistakes and failings Make no gossip o'er the fence, Where I am loved-in spite of faults, (Which I have by the score) Where every house in every street, Has "Welcome" on the door, And everyone-in every house Is kindly, loving, true Ready to serve with pleasure Whatever they can do. A place where there's no greed for power No frantic fight for gain No jealousy or hatred Which leave their blackened stain Of war, on hearts and lives of men Who wanted not to fight, But live in peace with those they love Each living soul's birthright. If I could find that perfect spot, A place all sweet and fair, Where there's no hate or selfishness Could I make my home there? Would my house be ha order For all the world to see Or would there be a room or two Not fit for company? It's just as well I've stopped to think Before I advertise, That "stop-look-listen" sign I've seen Is very, very wise But all the same-I'll not destroy That "ad"- I'll get to work To make that dream of mine come true, No longer can I shirk That much delayed spring-cleaning Into those cupboards, where I've hid my beastly skeletons Hoping to keep them there While all the time they worried me, Lest, when my friends should call, The faulty lock that held them Would give way, and out they'd fall. So out I'll drag them-every one Pride, hate and love of self, And criticism-worst of all, Come off that topmost shelf ! My! What a space you've cluttered up Each beastly, bony thing, And oh ! what joy to see you go I'm truly glad it's spring. Now that I've brought these skeletons Into the light of day I'll watch that in this house of mine They come no more to stay. So when that glad New Day shall come, And our dreams we realize, If I am worthy of a place Why ! then I'll advertise. M. DANGERFIELD

Melbourne Observer - Wednesday, February 20, 2013 - Page 17

Observer Classic Books

Les Misérables by Victor Hugo BOOK EIGHTH - CEMETERIES TAKE THAT WHICH IS COMMITTED THEM CHAPTER IV - IN WHICH JEAN VALJEAN HAS QUITE THE AIR OF HAVING READ AUSTIN CASTILLEJO Continued from last week

The strides of a lame man are like the ogling glances of a one-eyed man; they do not reach their goal very promptly. Moreover, Fauchelevent was in a dilemma. He took nearly a quarter of an hour to return to his cottage in the garden. Cosette had waked up. Jean Valjean had placed her near the fire. At the moment when Fauchelevent entered, Jean Valjean was pointing out to her the vintner’s basket on the wall, and saying to her, “Listen attentively to me, my little Cosette. We must go away from this house, but we shall return to it, and we shall be very happy here. The good man who lives here is going to carry you off on his back in that. You will wait for me at a lady’s house. I shall come to fetch you. Obey, and say nothing, above all things, unless you want Madame Thenardier to get you again!” Cosette nodded gravely. Jean Valjean turned round at the noise made by Fauchelevent opening the door. “Well?” “Everything is arranged, and nothing is,” said Fauchelevent. “I have permission to bring you in; but before bringing you in you must be got out. That’s where the difficulty lies. It is easy enough with the child.” “You will carry her out?” “And she will hold her tongue?” “I answer for that.” “But you, Father Madeleine?” And, after a silence, fraught with anxiety, Fauchelevent exclaimed:— “Why, get out as you came in!” Jean Valjean, as in the first instance, contented himself with saying, “Impossible.” Fauchelevent grumbled, more to himself than to Jean Valjean:— “There is another thing which bothers me. I have said that I would put earth in it. When I come to think it over, the earth instead of the corpse will not seem like the real thing, it won’t do, it will get displaced, it will move about. The men will bear it. You understand, Father Madeleine, the government will notice it.” Jean Valjean stared him straight in the eye and thought that he was raving. Fauchelevent went on:— “How the de-uce are you going to get out? It must all be done by tomorrow morning. It is tomorrow that I am to bring you in. The prioress expects you.” Then he explained to Jean Valjean that this was his recompense for a service which he, Fauchelevent, was to render to the community. That it fell among his duties to take part in their burials, that he nailed up the coffins and helped the grave-digger at the cemetery. That the nun who had died that morning had requested to be buried in the coffin which had served her for a bed, and interred in the vault under the altar of the chapel. That the police regulations forbade this, but that she was one of those dead to whom nothing is refused. That the prioress and the vocal mothers intended to fulfil the wish of the deceased. That it was so much the worse for the government. That he, Fauchelevent, was to nail up the coffin in the cell, raise the stone in the chapel, and lower the corpse into the vault. And that, by way of thanks, the prioress was to admit his brother to the house as a gardener, and his niece as a pupil. That his brother was M. Madeleine, and that his niece was Cosette. That the prioress had told him to bring his brother on the following evening, after the counterfeit interment in the cemetery. But that he could not bring M. Madeleine in from the outside if M. Madeleine was not outside. That that was the first problem. And then, that there was another: the empty coffin. “What is that empty coffin?” asked Jean Valjean. Fauchelevent replied:— “The coffin of the administration.”

● Victor Hugo “What coffin? What administration?” “A nun dies. The municipal doctor comes and says, ‘A nun has died.’ The government sends a coffin. The next day it sends a hearse and undertaker’s men to get the coffin and carry it to the cemetery. The undertaker’s men will come and lift the coffin; there will be nothing in it.” “Put something in it.” “A corpse? I have none.” “No.” “What then?” “A living person.” “What person?” “Me!” said Jean Valjean. Fauchelevent, who was seated, sprang up as though a bomb had burst under his chair. “You!” “Why not?” Jean Valjean gave way to one of those rare smiles which lighted up his face like a flash from heaven in the winter. “You know, Fauchelevent, what you have said: ‘Mother Crucifixion is dead.’ and I add: ‘and Father Madeleine is buried.’” “Ah! good, you can laugh, you are not speaking seriously.” “Very seriously, I must get out of this place.” “Certainly.” “l have told you to find a basket, and a cover for me also,” “Well?” “The basket will be of pine, and the cover a black cloth.” “In the first place, it will be a white cloth. Nuns are buried in white.” “Let it be a white cloth, then.” “You are not like other men, Father Madeleine.” To behold such devices, which are nothing else than the savage and daring inventions of the galleys, spring forth from the peaceable things which surrounded him, and mingle with what he called the “petty course of life in the convent,” caused Fauchelevent as much amazement as a gull fishing in the gutter of the Rue Saint–Denis would inspire in a passer-by. Jean Valjean went on:— “The problem is to get out of here without being seen. This offers the means. But give me some information, in the first place. How is it managed? Where is this coffin?”

“The empty one?” “Yes.” “Down stairs, in what is called the dead-room. It stands on two trestles, under the pall.” “How long is the coffin?” “Six feet.” “What is this dead-room?” “It is a chamber on the ground floor which has a grated window opening on the garden, which is closed on the outside by a shutter, and two doors; one leads into the convent, the other into the church.” “What church?” “The church in the street, the church which any one can enter.” “Have you the keys to those two doors?” “No; I have the key to the door which communicates with the convent; the porter has the key to the door which communicates with the church.” “When does the porter open that door?” “Only to allow the undertaker’s men to enter, when they come to get the coffin. When the coffin has been taken out, the door is closed again.” “Who nails up the coffin?” “I do.” “Who spreads the pall over it?” “I do.” “Are you alone?” “Not another man, except the police doctor, can enter the dead-room. That is even written on the wall.” “Could you hide me in that room to-night when every one is asleep?” “No. But I could hide you in a small, dark nook which opens on the dead-room, where I keep my tools to use for burials, and of which I have the key.” “At what time will the hearse come for the coffin tomorrow?” “About three o’clock in the afternoon. The burial will take place at the Vaugirard cemetery a little before nightfall. It is not very near.” “I will remain concealed in your tool-closet all night and all the morning. And how about food? I shall be hungry.” “I will bring you something.” “You can come and nail me up in the coffin at two o’clock.” Fauchelevent recoiled and cracked his fingerjoints.

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“But that is impossible!” “Bah! Impossible to take a hammer and drive some nails in a plank?” What seemed unprecedented to Fauchelevent was, we repeat, a simple matter to Jean Valjean. Jean Valjean had been in worse straits than this. Any man who has been a prisoner understands how to contract himself to fit the diameter of the escape. The prisoner is subject to flight as the sick man is subject to a crisis which saves or kills him. An escape is a cure. What does not a man undergo for the sake of a cure? To have himself nailed up in a case and carried off like a bale of goods, to live for a long time in a box, to find air where there is none, to economize his breath for hours, to know how to stifle without dying — this was one of Jean Valjean’s gloomy talents. Moreover, a coffin containing a living being,— that convict’s expedient,— is also an imperial expedient. If we are to credit the monk Austin Castillejo, this was the means employed by Charles the Fifth, desirous of seeing the Plombes for the last time after his abdication. He had her brought into and carried out of the monastery of Saint–Yuste in this manner. Fauchelevent, who had recovered himself a little, exclaimed:— “But how will you manage to breathe?” “I will breathe.” “In that box! The mere thought of it suffocates me.” “You surely must have a gimlet, you will make a few holes here and there, around my mouth, and you will nail the top plank on loosely.” “Good! And what if you should happen to cough or to sneeze?” “A man who is making his escape does not cough or sneeze.” And Jean Valjean added:— “Father Fauchelevent, we must come to a decision: I must either be caught here, or accept this escape through the hearse.” Every one has noticed the taste which cats have for pausing and lounging between the two leaves of a half-shut door. Who is there who has not said to a cat, “Do come in!” There are men who, when an incident stands half-open before them, have the same tendency to halt in indecision between two resolutions, at the risk of getting crushed through the abrupt closing of the adventure by fate. The over-prudent, cats as they are, and because they are cats, sometimes incur more danger than the audacious. Fauchelevent was of this hesitating nature. But Jean Valjean’s coolness prevailed over him in spite of himself. He grumbled:— “Well, since there is no other means.” Jean Valjean resumed:— “The only thing which troubles me is what will take place at the cemetery.” “That is the very point that is not troublesome,” exclaimed Fauchelevent. “If you are sure of coming out of the coffin all right, I am sure of getting you out of the grave. The grave-digger is a drunkard, and a friend of mine. He is Father Mestienne. An old fellow of the old school. The grave-digger puts the corpses in the grave, and I put the grave-digger in my pocket. I will tell you what will take place. They will arrive a little before dusk, three-quarters of an hour before the gates of the cemetery are closed. The hearse will drive directly up to the grave. I shall follow; that is my business. I shall have a hammer, a chisel, and some pincers in my pocket. The hearse halts, the undertaker’s men knot a rope around your coffin and lower you down. The priest says the prayers, makes the sign of the cross, sprinkles the holy water, and takes his departure. I am left alone with Father Mestienne. He is my friend, I tell you. One of two things will happen, he will either be sober, or he will not be sober. If he is not drunk, I shall say to him: ‘Come and drink a bout while the Bon Coing [the Good Quince] is open.’ I carry him off, I get him drunk,— it does not take long to make Father Mestienne drunk, he always has the beginning of it about him,— I lay him under the table, I take his card, so that I can get into the cemetery again, and I return without him. Then you have no longer any one but me to deal with. If he is drunk, I shall say to him: ‘Be off; I will do your

Continued on Page 18

Page 18 - Melbourne Observer - Wednesday, February 20, 2013

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Observer Classic Books From Page 17 work for you.’ Off he goes, and I drag you out of the hole.” Jean Valjean held out his hand, and Fauchelevent precipitated himself upon it with the touching effusion of a peasant. “That is settled, Father Fauchelevent. All will go well.” “Provided nothing goes wrong,” thought Fauchelevent. “In that case, it would be terrible.”

CHAPTER iv IT IS NOT NECESSARY TO BE DRUNK IN ORDER TO BE IMMORTAL On the following day, as the sun was declining, the very rare passers-by on the Boulevard du Maine pulled off their hats to an old-fashioned hearse, ornamented with skulls, cross-bones, and tears. This hearse contained a coffin covered with a white cloth over which spread a large black cross, like a huge corpse with drooping arms. A mourning-coach, in which could be seen a priest in his surplice, and a choir boy in his red cap, followed. Two undertaker’s men in gray uniforms trimmed with black walked on the right and the left of the hearse. Behind it came an old man in the garments of a laborer, who limped along. The procession was going in the direction of the Vaugirard cemetery. The handle of a hammer, the blade of a cold chisel, and the antennae of a pair of pincers were visible, protruding from the man’s pocket. The Vaugirard cemetery formed an exception among the cemeteries of Paris. It had its peculiar usages, just as it had its carriage entrance and its house door, which old people in the quarter, who clung tenaciously to ancient words, still called the porte cavaliere and the porte pietonne.16 The Bernardines–Benedictines of the Rue Petit–Picpus had obtained permission, as we have already stated, to be buried there in a corner apart, and at night, the plot of land having formerly belonged to their community. The grave-diggers being thus bound to service in the evening in summer and at night in winter, in this cemetery, they were subjected to a special discipline. The gates of the Paris cemeteries closed, at that epoch, at sundown, and this being a municipal regulation, the Vaugirard cemetery was bound by it like the rest. The carriage gate and

the house door were two contiguous grated gates, adjoining a pavilion built by the architect Perronet, and inhabited by the door-keeper of the cemetery. These gates, therefore, swung inexorably on their hinges at the instant when the sun disappeared behind the dome of the Invalides. If any grave-digger were delayed after that moment in the cemetery, there was but one way for him to get out — his grave-digger’s card furnished by the department of public funerals. A sort of letter-box was constructed in the porter’s window. The grave-digger dropped his card into this box, the porter heard it fall, pulled the rope, and the small door opened. If the man had not his card, he mentioned his name, the porter, who was sometimes in bed and asleep, rose, came out and identified the man, and opened the gate with his key; the gravedigger stepped out, but had to pay a fine of fifteen francs. 16 Instead of porte cochere and porte batarde. This cemetery, with its peculiarities outside the regulations, embarrassed the symmetry of the administration. It was suppressed a little later than 1830. The cemetery of Mont–Parnasse, called the Eastern cemetery, succeeded to it, and inherited that famous dram-shop next to the Vaugirard cemetery, which was surmounted by a quince painted on a board, and which formed an angle, one side on the drinkers’ tables, and the other on the tombs, with this sign: Au Bon Coing. The Vaugirard cemetery was what may be called a faded cemetery. It was falling into disuse. Dampness was invading it, the flowers were deserting it. The bourgeois did not care much about being buried in the Vaugirard; it hinted at poverty. Pere–Lachaise if you please! to be buried in Pere–Lachaise is equivalent to having furniture of mahogany. It is recognized as elegant. The Vaugirard cemetery was a venerable enclosure, planted like an old-fashioned French garden. Straight alleys, box, thuya-trees, holly, ancient tombs beneath aged cypress-trees, and very tall grass. In the evening it was tragic there. There were very lugubrious lines about it. The sun had not yet set when the hearse with the white pall and the black cross entered the avenue of the Vaugirard cemetery. The lame man who followed it was no other than Fauchelevent.

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The interment of Mother Crucifixion in the vault under the altar, the exit of Cosette, the introduction of Jean Valjean to the dead-room,— all had been executed without difficulty, and there had been no hitch. Let us remark in passing, that the burial of Mother Crucifixion under the altar of the convent is a perfectly venial offence in our sight. It is one of the faults which resemble a duty. The nuns had committed it, not only without difficulty, but even with the applause of their own consciences. In the cloister, what is called the “government” is only an intermeddling with authority, an interference which is always questionable. In the first place, the rule; as for the code, we shall see. Make as many laws as you please, men; but keep them for yourselves. The tribute to Caesar is never anything but the remnants of the tribute to God. A prince is nothing in the presence of a principle. Fauchelevent limped along behind the hearse in a very contented frame of mind. His twin plots, the one with the nuns, the one for the convent, the other against it, the other with M. Madeleine, had succeeded, to all appearance. Jean Valjean’s composure was one of those powerful tranquillities which are contagious. Fauchelevent no longer felt doubtful as to his success. What remained to be done was a mere nothing. Within the last two years, he had made good Father Mestienne, a chubby-cheeked person, drunk at least ten times. He played with Father Mestienne. He did what he liked with him. He made him dance according to his whim. Mestienne’s head adjusted itself to the cap of Fauchelevent’s will. Fauchelevent’s confidence was perfect. At the moment when the convoy entered the avenue leading to the cemetery, Fauchelevent glanced cheerfully at the hearse, and said half aloud, as he rubbed his big hands:— “Here’s a fine farce!” All at once the hearse halted; it had reached the gate. The permission for interment must be exhibited. The undertaker’s man addressed himself to the porter of the cemetery. During this colloquy, which always is productive of a delay of from one to two minutes, some one, a stranger, came and placed himself behind the hearse, beside Fauchelevent. He was a sort of laboring

man, who wore a waistcoat with large pockets and carried a mattock under his arm. Fauchelevent surveyed this stranger. “Who are you?” he demanded. “The man replied:— “The grave-digger.” If a man could survive the blow of a cannonball full in the breast, he would make the same face that Fauchelevent made. “The grave-digger?” “Yes.” “You?” “I.” “Father Mestienne is the grave-digger.” “He was.” “What! He was?” “He is dead.”Fauchelevent had expected anything but this, that a grave-digger could die. It is true, nevertheless, that grave-diggers do die themselves. By dint of excavating graves for other people, one hollows out one’s own. Fauchelevent stood there with his mouth wide open. He had hardly the strength to stammer:— “But it is not possible!” “It is so.” “But,” he persisted feebly, “Father Mestienne is the grave-digger.” “After Napoleon, Louis XVIII. After Mestienne, Gribier. Peasant, my name is Gribier.” Fauchelevent, who was deadly pale, stared at this Gribier. He was a tall, thin, livid, utterly funereal man. He had the air of an unsuccessful doctor who had turned grave-digger. Fauchelevent burst out laughing. “Ah!” said he, “what queer things do happen! Father Mestienne is dead, but long live little Father Lenoir! Do you know who little Father Lenoir is? He is a jug of red wine. It is a jug of Surene, morbigou! of real Paris Surene? Ah! So old Mestienne is dead! I am sorry for it; he was a jolly fellow. But you are a jolly fellow, too. Are you not, comrade? We’ll go and have a drink together presently.” The man replied:— “I have been a student. I passed my fourth examination. I never drink.” The hearse had set out again, and was rolling up the grand alley of the cemetery. ● To Be Continued Next Week

Observer Crossword Solution No 3 T HR A S H E D GR EM L I N A C R AW N I O O P R E T OR I R A D I A T OR C I L S I L L M N S H A I RDO N OR I F I C E M E M I GH T E S T ON T A R I O Y A S P E C T E L NUMB E D E H E E S K I MOS R A B A B A I G U I P R GN H A RN E S S E D T I L E R Y E N O S CO T I N DOM I C I L E OR I G I N R O H I M N N S P I E RC I N A B R E A S T S N UR E A R O A N T R E A T E D R E A RM P U G ME L E E R MR S I MP A L E U S A Y SO H B I NOD S R ON T O MA NN E D I EM I R S T I R S P C A I R H I MA CHU R A S T ON I S H P HNOM T W R E S I E S T A U T I F F T A N W ROS Y C U S S R A N K A R A L R E A L M M E R S T Y L E C E T A P R EM I S E ME CC A M L N MA R E U R E O M I S S I ON P L A Y S U P S S U L B T N T T U T OR I A L E NOUGH A I E T T R I M ON R E CORD E R S A S S E S N R I A G C P R I MP A R T S R A L I B I A T HO L I E R F C A A S P I R E D N A B I D E D S N R A B A T U R H ME RGE S I R AG T I ME U O Q MAMA G F S GR A NU L E S MA I N T A I G L A R E F N E O YOD E L L E D L EG I RON

S DWE L L CHR E E A ORD A I N I P E N R WR E S OK YO S E L A T E A DO F F I V R RUD OCCH I E I H COR D I A N A I R N A P N I D E R G S URG I T R U I A NO MO N P I E E DGE NO E A N T E AM I N A S C D T T H A C I DR E H V O D PO L E G A A S H E A N I C UN E EON I L E R GH S A R S S T R I K HR E E L U W MY R T H EGO T R MOR I MA T E O N G N I G G I E S T E N A S T R E T U P R E P R A N A R A H C N P I C KM T T E R E S D E F RO

I G N I T E S E G O L F C L U B S H A O D I A B E T I C S H A R C H E R S

MO URN E D H E R A Y S L E D WE E D T N H E ND E A R I L M N I GA T T I S A E S EM O E A L N A L OE L T S E X I S E S M R EMM AM O D P RO I N T C MAM A L L T H I F E R S OC E A N A U D I S C R S T I I A D WO L E F N E R E S R I T G M L E A V E Y T N R E B U E S E V E A L U P MA S E C T S D E

NUME N R D R A L DR L I A S C E N S R O A Z A RD R Z U UR I D L L E E E CR A S R R B A L ME N R A I V E T A S A L U T E T R X HU B C A A A L N I N E T D S M L L AM B A I AMB L E I L L ROA D I N M T S H E R E O E E A C A K R D ODW I N E L P R A Y E L D Y A N AGE N M B EWSMA T O L S A N E L R D V E R I C N C C A N T E

T O Y E D S Y H O R N E T S P Y E A R S E D R E A D E D D N Y O K E D

Melbourne Observer - Wednesday, February 20, 2013 - Page 19

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Observer Readers’ Club The Way We Were

Melbourne Photo Flashback

100 Years Ago Mornington Standard Saturday, February 22, 1913 Horse and Dog Meat GERMIIANYEATINGMORE. Germany's dainty dishes of horse and dog are being consumed in steadilyincreasing quantities. Owing to the heavy protectivc taxes, beef and mutton, which might be obtained from Australia, are excessively expensive to the poorer classes, and in 1912, 7578 dogs were eaten, as comnpired with 6650 in 1911. The consumption of horseflesh was also marked, 175,000 being slaughtered for food during the 12 months, as against 156,000 in 1911. Prussia consumed more horseolesh thri ever, disposing of 120,000 of England's broken.down u:gs

● View of St. Georges Rd, Thornbury, looking north, showing a no. 9 tram and the old racecourse at left. Circa 1941

Life’s Lessons

Reader Recipes

■ Some people grow up and spread cheer, others just grow up and spread. ■ Charientism. An artfully veiled insult.

Trivia Challenge ■ Which of the following is not an Australian innovation? A) Chiko Roll B) Lawn Sprinkler C) Plastic bank notes D) Dual flush toilet E) Wine Cask?

Your Stars with Christina La Cross ARIES (MAR 21 - APR 20) An air of unrest which the planets have created could see you falling out with the most easy going of signs. Try to say nothing if you cannot say something nice Aries. A friendship depends on it. TAURUS (APR 21 - MAY 21) Something which used to be your responsibility now seems to lay more with someone you don't think worthy. Ask yourself if you would be willing to do it before you give your reaction. GEMINI (MAY 22 - JUNE 21) People you have not seen in some time seem to be getting back in contract and they all want to help you. It's clear to see you've lost a lot of faith but tonight you'll see it's true. CANCER (JUNE 22 - JULY 23) Old work contacts all come in handy this week as they can fill in some blanks about what is possible in your future. Just make sure you stick to facts and not fiction Cancer. LEO (JULY 24 - AUG 23) Too many people are giving you their opinion on what should really be a personal decision between two people. Speak up now Leo, before you cast yourself as someone others can walk over. VIRGO (AUG 24 - SEPT 23) If you think you've got plans for the next few days then put them on hold as the planets have plans of their own for you which are going to shock, surprise and ultimately please you . LIBRA (SEPT 24 - OCT 23) Saturn wants to put some order into your life but you keep on rocking the boat. Some would say that you're enjoying having a few fireworks in your life. We know you want peace, don't you? SCORPIO (OCT 24 - NOV 22) Venus makes it impossible for you not to lay your cards on the table and say how you really feel. Is this a good thing? At least you'll find out today who is on your side Scorpio. SAGITTARIUS (NOV 23 - DEC 21) Avoid fall outs with family as it seems you don't know all the details and you're unlikely to until next week. You could end up with egg on your face if you don't slow your pace. CAPRICORN (DEC 22 - JAN 20) You're finding it hard to balance your finances but it would be better if you were a little more honest with your spending today. Only then will you work out how and what you can save. AQUARIUS (JAN 21 - FEB 19) Be nice to everyone you meet as it is the very faces you think don't hold any power who can help you make that all important crossover. Children bring stress and joy, but it's all progress. PISCES (FEB 20 - MARCH 20) Things you buy or invest in now, say a lot about how you feel and where you feel your loyalty really lies. Don't say bad things about an ex.Focus on the future, not the past.

IN PRINT: Read the Melbourne Observer every week. Buy at your newsagent, or by mail subscription. FACEBOOK: Follow our updates, and post your own coments at www.facebook.com: Melbourne Observer Group TWITTER: Follow our updates, and post your own Tweets at www.twitter.com/ MelbourneObs BY POST: Mail contributions to Observer Readers’ Club PO Box 1278, Research, Vic 3095 FAX: 1-800 231 312 E-MAIL: editor@ melbourneobserver.com.au

Birthdays/Celebrations

Word Of The Week

Answer: B) Lawn sprinkler

Liberal Organiser at Frankston ADDRESS BY MISS ME ASON. Between 30 and 40 la dies and gentlemen were present at the Mechanic’s Hall Frankston, on Wednesday eveving, when Miss Meason, an organiser of the People's Liberal Party, delivered a political address. Dr Maxwell occupied the chair, and in a brief speech introduced Miss M.eason to her hearers. Miss Meason said sihe was pleased to be present that evening in the interests of Liberalism, and was also pleased that there was such a good attendance. The Liberals wanted organisation,and organisatrion meant strength. Women had had a vote for some little time. and she was pleased to see the number of ladies present that evening. They had a great deal to work for - to return the liberals and the defeat of the Referendum. Ours is a great country, but it is overlegislated.

Join in our chat

■ Wednesday, February 20. Observer follower André Haermeyer (57); André currently lives in Frankfurt. Wes Crook. ■ Thursday, February 21. Andrew Rutherford, Hughesdale. ■ Friday, February 22. Mick Pacholli (58). ■ Saturday, February 23. Ali Meikle of Horsham (23). ■ Sunday, February 24. Marjory Lawrence and Jim Long (now dec.) were married on this day in 1945. Radio man Geoff Brown. ■ Monday, February 25. Happy birthday to Marjory, who enters her 90th year. Glenys Sigley. ■ Tuesday, February 26. Terry David.

● Amaretta: ‘These charming Italian macaroons are best enjoyed with a cuppa at tea time,’ says Taste.com.au Ingredients 1 cup blanched whole almonds 110g (1/2 cup) caster sugar 2 eggwhites Pinch of cream of tartar 2 tbs pure icing sugar 5ml (1 tsp) almond essence 1/4 cup flaked almonds Espresso, to serve Log in to add to My Shopping List Method: Step 1: Preheat oven to 180°C. Place almonds on a baking tray and bake for 10 minutes until golden brown, turning after 5 minutes. Set aside to cool. Reduce oven temperature to 160°C. Step 2: Place almonds and half the caster sugar in a food processor and process until fine crumbs. Beat eggwhites and cream of tartar in a bowl until stiff peaks form. Gradually add remaining caster sugar until combined and glossy, then beat in almond essence. Combine almond mixture and icing sugar in a bowl. Fold into eggwhites until just combined. Step 3: Grease and line a baking tray with nonstick baking paper. Spoon mixture into a piping bag (use a 1cm nozzle) and pipe rounds, about 3cm in diameter, on tray (or place spoonfuls of mixture on tray). Step 4: Top each biscuit with a flaked almond, then bake for 15 minutes until crisp. Cool completely. Serve with espresso.

● Observer readers Deborah Jane Gray and Christian Wagstaff (pictured), celebrated their birthdays on Monday (Feb. 18). Many happy returns.

Observer Mailbag

Cheerios

■ Thanks to Tommy Dysart, Joanie Brockenshire and Kole Dysart for the Valentine’s Day special message. Our special lovey-dovey gang at Highett. ■ David Mann, Observer reader and 3AW Promotions Manager, has been attending the Order of Australia conference in Canberra. Cheerio to his father Sid Mann at Roseville Retirement Village, East Doncaster. ■ Publicist Lionel Midford has sent opening night invitations to Observer columnists Kevin Trask, Julie Houghton, Mark Richardson, John Pasquarelli, Yvonne Lawrence and Cheryl Threadgold for Yes, Prime Minister on Thurs., March 7 at the Playhouse.

■ ‘Harmonica Mavis’ Ellis telephoned the Observer office during the week, after we published a birthday greeting for February 14. Her family were taking her to a celebration lunch last weekend. Mavis is managing vertigo difficulties, as part of Meniere’s Disease. ■ Hello again to Sheila Heath of Hoppers Crossing/ Werribee, who is on the recovery list. ■ Observer columnist Kevin Trask and wife Cate have been managing their busy lives with just one car, after a driver ran a red light and collected Kevin’s vehicle. Kev is still sore after the ‘prang’. ■ Cheerio to Joshua Olek who has scored his first radio job at Star FM Warragul.

Readers’ Photos

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Melbourne Observer - Wednesday, February 20, 2013 - Page 21

It’s Time Today I am 55 ... where has time gone? In real terms I am past the half way mark, so I ask myself what have I done with this gift - called time - I have been given? What I haven’t used properly is gone forever. What I have used wisely will last forever. So I have to admit I am mainly of the former ... maybe it’s time to wake up! How much time I have left, only God knows, but as sure as the nose on my face, it’s time to wake up to the fact that time stops for no-one ... so think real carefully now, maybe it’s time I stop for a brief moment for time and ponder, and seriously consider that time is the only thing in this life that is not negotiable. I run many businesses and in many cases, sometimes I may lose a 100 or even a 1000 dollars in a day, but fortunately on the next day i make a 100 or 1000 [ i hope!] It may even be like last week where I have my shop flooded and I lose thousands of dollars of stock and cry deeply for my loss. But then I wake up to the fact that it’s NOT worth crying tears for the mere loss of a few dollars. But I should be crying oceans of tears for the time I lost which I will never, never be able to replace ... nor will you for that matter ... come to think of it, nor can anyone, even with an ocean full of dollar coins, be able to buy one minute of time ... so why, why, why on earth do I strive for that which will not last? For the bigger house, for the better car, for the longer holiday, for those extra savings in the bank, that when I come to the end of my time, will amount to a huge big fat zero of good to me. Why, why indeed? Well it’s time for a wake-up call indeed and decide to value this small window of opportunity that God has given me called time. Above all else, whether you are of one religious persuasion or other matters little, but most people with any sense, realise that this life is not all there is, and realise that there must be something else.something else over and above our simple understanding of this little speck in the whole universe called earth that we tiny little beings called humans live in, and some of us think stupidly that we know it all. Well, I for one sure know stuff all, but let me tell you I am happy to know the one that knows all stuff! So in the whole scheme of things I will endeavour to use the little fraction of time He grants me to invest it in endeavours that will have an eternal significance ... so for me anyhow I have to say that TIME to me is nothing more than TEMPORARILY INTERUPTING MY ETERNITY. I trust for you to as you come to realise that this short window of opportunity, called time, God has given you as well is all you will ever have to work out your eternal destiny! So happy birthday William! A message from William Monos

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Victoria Pictorial

Sunday Drives Historic Photo Collection

● St Andrew’s Kirk, Ballarat

● The Weir, Lower Side, Yarrawonga. 1950

● Steam Tram. Back Beach, Sorrento. 1914.

● Entrance to ‘The Chalet’, Warburton. 1940.

● The main road, Olinda. 1945.

● View at Mt Dandenong, 1925.

● The Great Ocean Road, Wye River

● Near ‘Elephant Rock’, Flinders. 1921.

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Melbourne Boulevard Pharmacy and Health Foods

Questions and answers about teeth whitening â&#x2013; How does it work? You place a mouth tray filled with whitening gel in your mouth, and our advanced cold blue light accelerator produces the best results available in a fraction of the time or cost of other procedures. Does it harm my teeth, gums or dental work? No. The treatment uses a special cold light, which will not burn and special whitening gels. For people with normal, healthy teeth and gums there are no adverse side effects. It does not remove tooth enamel. How effective is it on my teeth, crown or caps? It removes stains caused by aging, coffee, tea, cola, red wine, smoking, etc. It also reduces discolouration caused by medications and white spots from fluoride. Stains are removed from crowns/veneers without changing their original colour. Does it hurt? No. For people with normal, healthy teeth and gums there is no pain and any side effects are temporary and will disappear quickly. How long will teeth whitening last? Depending on your lifestyle and dental hygiene it is possible to maintain your whiter teeth for two years. How long after the treatment before I can eat/ drink? For 24 hours after the treatment you should avoid coffee, tea, cola drinks, red wine, smoking or consuming anything that could stain your teeth. If it stains a white shirt, it could stain your teeth! Make an Appointment Today!

Shop 5, 401 St Kilda Road Melbourne, Vic 3004 9866 1284 naturopath.mbp@live.com.au ShowBiz Social Club At Bentleigh Club Monday night (Oct. 22) Photos: Gigi Hellmuth

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Melbourne

Observer

Travellers’ Good Buys

with David Ellis

Anything but ruffled, that’s The Feathers ■ Bok into The Feathers hotel in the historic little English market town of Woodstock, and you’ll find Reception’s in a building that dates back to the 1600s, was a draper’s shop for the first half of the 20th century, and then a butcher’s. And not any butcher: this chap made somewhat of a name for himself when he roasted a whole ox just up the road in the grounds of Blenheim Palace during celebrations there for the 1953 coronation of Queen Elizabeth II. And after unpacking in your room that’s in an even older part of the hotel, take yourself to the quiet of the Study to read or nap – and discover you’re sitting in what was a sanatorium 300 years ago for those struck down with tuberculosis. And when it’s time for dinner, it’ll be in the equally fascinating dining room, created within part of several more centuries-old village cottages that were all slowly bought-up and cobbled together into today’s colourful and eclectic Feathers Hotel. (And which explains why no two of the 16 bedrooms and 5 suites are the same.) Finally, enjoy a nightcap in the Gin Bar that the Guinness Book of Records recognises as having the world’s most different-label gins. And which explains why a sign says: “We provide assistance to your room if required.” The Feathers, one quickly comes

● The Feathers: parts date back to the 1600s.

Observer Wines & Liqueurs Melbourne

with David Ellis

Easily hooked with this spag ■ We see little Aglianico here in Australia, a wine that’s big in the south of Italy where it was introduced from Greece some several millennia ago. For whatever reason it’s never really caught on either elsewhere in Italy nor in many other parts of the world, but the dozen or so Australian makers who have planted and are refining it here are doing so with quite some success, and winning fans for this full-flavoured variety. One such is Bill Calabria at Griffith in the NSW Riverina who sports good Italian lineage, and has recently released a 2010 Calabria Aglianico, that’s a delightfully more-ish drop bright cherry in colour and with ripe plum fruit and black cherry aromas, and savoury coffee and smoky notes on the palate. At just $14.99 it’s rewardingly classy and elegant to enjoy with richer light-meat dishes such as roast duck or pork belly – or as in its homeland with Spaghetti alla Puttanesca, the socalled ‘Prostitutes Spaghetti; whose flavoursome sauce is made with garlic, olive oil, tomatoes, anchovies, capers and dill, and which the “girls” of Naples could easy whip up between clients. ■ No funny business about this delightful Riverina Italian Aglianico. ■ Rewardingrom an ideal vintage.

One to note ■ Katnook Estate’s 2010 Coonawarra Cabernet Sauvignon is a wine that’s richly reflective of the great 2010 vintage, one that’s often described as being amongst the region’s best-ever, with near-ideal weather conditions that included below average rainfall and above average temperatures. The beautifully intense blackberry and mulberry aromas, generous pure-fruit flavours, finely grained tannins and underlying mocha notes, make it a great buy at $40 – in fact Langton’s Wine Auction have described it as “an outstanding Coonawarra Cabernet Sauvignon with excellent fruit definition and tannin maturity.” Enjoy it with slow-baked beef ribs accompanied by a peppercorn or fresh mushroom sauce.

We’re archived on http://vintnews.com

to appreciate, is all about history – as is Woodstock it’s very self, the Domesday Book recording that what is now the town was a Royal Forest for hunting and timber-gathering as early as 1086. And it’s also known that King Henry I later had a menagerie for his personal amusement within the forest, while his grandson Henry II courted his mistress Rosamund Clifford (the “Fair Rosamund”) there in the 1160s – and in more serious mood, in 1179 conferred a Royal Charter on the nowemerging little Woodstock. We first became acquainted with The Feathers some 20 years back when respected hotelier, Mr Gordon Campbell-Grey bought the property, then known as The Dorchester, and set about putting it on the map as a country retreat to stay and dine splendidly in equally splendid surroundings. He spent a small fortune on restoring The Dorchester, and with his love of food and a hobby of collecting stuffed birds, re-named it The Feathers. Just over 100km north of London’s CBD on the outskirts of Oxford, The Feathers is an easy place to get to for a memorable lunch, but better still is to opt for a night or two there to enjoy the property and the dining, and to take-in the many local highlights: Oxford, Blenheim Palace where Sir Winston Churchill was born in 1874, the Cotswold Wildlife Park, Warwick Castle, and not least, Baron Ferdinand de Rothschild’s extraordinary Waddesdon Manor that took six years to build between 1877 and 1883 and which now attracts 300,000 visitors a year to its spectacular gardens, priceless art collections, aviary and woodland playground. We called into The Feathers for a nostalgic lunch during a visit to Britain and Wales last October, opting to self-drive rather than take the train from London: after overnighting at a Heathrow Airport hotel we collected a Vauxhall Zafira from the airport agency, left Heathrow at 9.30am and after a stop at tiny Bladon to see the graves of Sir Winston Churchill and many of his family, were at The Feathers in time for a leisurely 2.5hr lunch. The roomy Zafira booked here through DriveAway Holidays cost just $357 for 5-days, including insurances, unlimited kilometres and 24hr roadside service. As it was those many years ago on our first visit, the anguish at lunch was decisions, decisions when presented with the British/Continental menu: five mouth-watering entrees, a half dozen mains and as many desserts… plus a choice of British and French cheeses, fruit bread, biscuits and chutneys to finish. Then to the Gin Bar: here there are no fewer than 161 different labels from every gin-producing country in the world – and the opportunity to sip on the world’s most expensive G&T: a Monkey 47 Gin from Holland with Q Tonic Water from the USA costing GBP22.75 (AU$35 at time of our visit.) For more information about The Feathers: www.thefeathers.co.uk ; DriveAway Holidays www. driveaway.com.au or phone 1300 723 972.

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Melbourne

Observer Victorian Sport Racing Briefs

Took second heat ■ John Hallam's most consistent 5-Y-0 Million To One/Ezee Lombo mare Ezee Duzit Lombo was successful in taking the 2nd Heat of the VHRSC Metropolitan Cup for C4 & C5 class over 2190 metres. Driven by Nathan Jack, Ezee Duzit Lombo from gate two enjoyed a sweet trip trailing the pacemaker Bon Jovi (gate four) until the home turn. Not wanting to use the sprint lane, Ezee Duzit Lombo was eased to the outside on the final bend and finished best to score by 7.3 metres in 1-57.5 over the leader, with Lifes A Lombo a stablemate of the winner third after following the pair.

Three-wide trail home ■ Echuca trainer Faye McEwan snared the Ben and Anne O'Donoghue Pace for C1 class over 2190 metres with 7-Y-0 E Dees Cam/Adio Annie gelding Pieces OfA Dream. Dropping back in grade having not won since November 2011, Pieces Of A Dream taking a concession for David Moran was eased to the tail of the field from gate two on the second line, with another of the Newberry team Splendid Choice leading from gate five. Gaining a three wide trail home at the expense of Sir Philo in the last lap, Pieces Of A Dream ran home strongly out wide on straightening to defeat the pacemaker by a neck in 1-59.6. Safely Loaded came from last on the marker line to finish third after taking inside runs.

2 insw in succession ■ Goornong trainer/driver Peter Salathiel continued his recent run of luck, when 4-Y-0 Presidential Ball/Shes High Maintenance gelding Beau Dandy brought up two wins in succession by taking the VHRSC Provincial Cup (4th Heat) for C1 class over 2190 metres in a rate of 1-58.9. Beginning brilliantly to lead from gate three, Beau Dandy coasted at the head of affairs in accounting for Forbidden Forest which trailed and Earls Reign which trailed the pair.

Led throughout ■ Wahring's Daniel Jack is also having a good run with his team and Art Major/My Ami Lee filly Priceless Gem greeted the judge in the Laurie & Mickey Cormican 3-Y-0 Pace over 1690 metres at Shepparton. Driven by Daniel, Priceless Gem led throughout from the pole to score in 1-58.2 over Rogers Passion (one/one) the margin a head only, with Paradise Ranch third off a three wide trail.

Sixth win at Geelong ■ At Geelong on Wednesday, Doreen trainer Rebecca Cartwright's smart 4-Y-0 Village Jasper/ Jeane Darc mare La Pucelle chalked up her sixth victory in eight outings when successful in the Prestige Jayco Geelong Pace for C2 class over 1609 metres.

This Week’s Meetings ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

Wednesday - Cranbourne/Mildura, Thursday - Birchip @ Charlton/Echuca, Friday - Melton, Saturday - Geelong (Cup), Sunday - Bendigo, Monday - Hamilton, Tuesday - Nyah @ Swan Hill.

Horses To Follow ■ Rocky Carrington, Muscle Stride, Lombo Scrutinizer, Gollahman, Pirates Plunder, Bon Jovi, Funny Car.

TONTINE TROTTING SERIES UNDERWAY ■ The progressive Horsham club hosted the Wednesday harness racing on February 13, featuring heat one of the prestigious Decron Horse Care Tontine Trotting Series for T0 or better class over 2700 metres. In an upset result, veteran Elmore trainer Neville Welsh snared the major prize with honest 4-Y-0 Sundon/Wheels To Go gelding Wildenstein. Driven by son Clinton, Wildenstein ($22.10) bred by Graham Mulhall's Mulhall Corporation and raced by Graham, jumped straight to the front from his pole line draw and after being rated to perfection with no pressure being applied, kicked clear on straightening to score by 5.4 metres in a rate of 2-06.9 over Eurasian Kosmos (one/one three wide home turn) and the hot favourite Sunset Invasion which faced the breeze from the 20 metre mark.

Second start ■ The all conquering Emma Stewart/Clayton Tonkin stable were winners at Horsham when Armbro Operative/Sure Sign gelding Hayes And Kidd greeted the judge in the Moore Bulk Haulage 3-Y-0 Pace over 2200 metres in a rate of 2-00.3. Having his second start in Victoria after two wins in the Riverina district of NSW, Hayes And Kidd driven by Greg Sugars spent most of the race at the rear of the field after starting from the extreme draw. Sent forward three wide uncovered in the final circuit, Hayes And Kidd raced to the front on the final bend, defeating Gollahman from well back after racing rough at the start, with Citysneak third from mid-field on debut. The mile rate 200.3.

First up ■ Elliminyt (Colac) trainer Courtney Slater produced 4-Y-0 Safely Kept/Torado Fire gelding El Sabio to score first up for the stable in the Wimmera Mail Times Pace for C0 class over 1700 metres. Having his first outing since October, El Sabio which looked quite smart when presented at the races as a juvenile before losing all form, was trapped wide from outside the front row before reinsman Michael Bellman settled him outside the pole line leader Jonalex.

Baker’s Delight

Harness Racing

Thursday double day

Melbourne

Observer

len-baker@ bigpond.com

with Len Baker

Taking over on the home turn, El Sabio comfortably held his rivals at bay in the run to the post, defeating Gnotuk off a three wide trail last lap and Belated (one/two), returning a rate of 1-58.8.

Quinella

Regular ■ Ararat's Michael Bellman is a regular winner throughout Victoria and landed the Shelton & Lane Graphics & Print Pace over 2200 metres at Horsham with 5-Y-0 Life Sign/Charz Bonus entire Lifes A Bonus in a rate of 1-59.5. Settling mid-field in the running line from gate two, Lifes A Bonus was eased three wide in the last lap to give chase to the leaders Mathias and Night Affair. With a line of three on turning, Night Affair after racing in the open put pay to Mathias, with Lifes A Bonus issuing an immediate challenge and the pair drew away to fight out the finish. Gaining a last bound nose decision, Lifes A Bonus recorded his 6th victory in 40 race appearances. Radical Impact finished third after following the winner home.

■ McKenzies Creek (Horsham) trainer Barry Dunn snared the quinella in the Wimmera Roadways Pace for C1 & C2 class mares over 1700 metres with Modern Scooter and Modern McKenzie in a rate of 159.3. Driven by Wayne Lane, Modern McKenzie was trapped three wide from gate five for the first lap, before surprisingly being handed the lead by his stablemate at the bell. Despite a half hearted challenge by Modern Scooter on straightening, Modern McKenzie safely held on the score by a head in 1-59.3, with Dance With Mia (three back the mark■ Monday's Shepparton ers) third. fixture was a great one for the Goulburn Valley and Bendigo who provided five winners on the eight ■ Allandale trainer Basil event card. Dooley is enjoying a great Bunbartha's John run with his small but se- Newberry landed the lect team and 6-Y-0 To- Eddie Walsh Pace for C0 tally Ruthless/Our Emma class over 2190 metres gelding Make A Fuss with speedy Courage Unmade it two from two this der Fire/Shez Madam 4-Y-0 gelding On time in when successful in Jasper Fire Within, leading the VHRSC Provincial throughout from gate three Cup (5th Heat) for C1 to account for Im For Real class over 2200 metres. which raced outside him Taking a concession and Stuart which trailed for teenager Zac Phillips, in a rate of 2-00. Make A Fuss from the pole was crossed by All Charged Up (gate five) as the start was effected, but ■ Terang trainer/driver immediately eased around Robert Arundell's 4-Y-0 the leader to assume con- Armbro Operative/Hi Ho trol. Fitz mare Big Mumma Once at the head of af- Fitz was a shock winner fairs, Make A Fuss coasted of the Choice Hotels Pace to the wire virtually un- for C0 class (mares) over touched in accounting for 2240 metres at the St All Charged Up and Pi- Arnaud meeting held at rates Plunder which Tabcorp Park Melton on moved from last to race in Friday, breaking her the open at the bell. The maiden status at start number nine. mile rate 2-02.1.

At Shepp.

Great run

New status

■ Two harness meeting were held in Victoria on Thursday February 14 - Cranbourne racing in the afternoon and Bendigo at night. Monegeetta co-trainers Lisa and David Miles produced what could be something special in Great Success/Our First Strike gelding Roy Hobbs to take out the Aldebaran Park 3-Y-0 Trotters Mobile over 2080 metres at Cranbourne. Having his first outing since June last year, Roy Hobbs, a half-brother to the handy Dottie Hinson bred and raced by Lisa Miles in partnership with long time stable supporters Tony Eley, Terry Wait and international race caller David Raphael, began safely from outside the front row to unsuccessfully tackle the hot favourite Bellmac Kody (gate two) for the front position. Unable to cross, reinsman David Miles eased to be three back along the markers in the small five horse field which was only four as the third elect Sun Of Sonoke last season's Redwood winner galloped away wildly and was tailed off. Moving away from the markers in the final circuit to join Bellmac Kody on the home turn, Roy Hobbs after a short tussle cruised away over the concluding stages to record an ultra impressive 7.1 metre victory over the leader in a record rate of 200.2, with Missgoodytwoshoes a further 60.8 metres away in third place. Lightly raced, Roy Hobbs was making his 6th race appearance.

Snared handicap ■ Six-year-old Scarfell Meadow/Jay Field Princess gelding Slancio did a bigShowBiz job to snare the Seelite Social Club Windows & Doors TrottersAt Handicap for Club T0 or Bentleigh better class over 2575 metres at Cranbourne. Monday night (Oct. 22) Trained in Gippsland by Chris Hunter and Photos: Gigi Hellmuth driven by son Glenn, Slancio was slow to begin from the 20 metre mark, settling at the tail of the field, with stablemate Dawn Tears at the head of affairs. Commencing a forward move three wide midrace, Slancio was accommodated by Shiraz Cabernet coming out ahead of him yo receive a three wide trail. Unfortunately Shiraz Cabernet couldn't sustain the effort and dropped out in the final circuit taking Slancio back with him. While all this was going on, Lance Justice sooled Sonofpaco forward to join the leader on the final bend and the pair kicked away, with Slancio giving chase out wide, but a long way from the front runners. Continuing to make ground on straightening, Slancio ran home strongly to blouse Sonofpaco by a head on the wire, with Dawn Tears holding down third. The mile rate 2-06.4.

Stable double at Bendigo ■ At Bendigo, astute Avenel trainer Wayne Potter was responsible for a stable double with a pair of very smart four year old geldings - Teo Enteo (Armbro Operative/The Milky Way) taking the Insolink Bendigo Conference Pace for C5 & C6 class over 2150 metres and Teniamo (Grinfromeartoear/ Wineglass Bay) the GT Recovery & Reorganisation Pacers Handicp for C0 class over the same trip. Teo Enteo taking a concession for the stable's Mark Pitt formerly from NSW, raced in the ‘sweet seat’ one/one for most of the journey from gate three, with Wipem Dry (gate four) crossing to lead shortly after the start. Becoming badly pocketed in the last lap as Road Ro Rock moved three wide around him, Teo Enteo looked in trouble approaching the home turn, before being extricated to make the final bend four wide and finish full of running to blouse Cut For An Ace (one/three - three wide trail last lap) which led on turning by 1.8 metres in a rate of 1-57.8. Road To Rock (second up since August) battled on strongly to finish a close up third. Teniamo first up since December 2011 was Chris Alford's only drive for the night and he justified his short $1.50 quote by leading throughout from barrier six to score from Alissa Tiki (three back the markers) and Modernize which followed the winner in a mile rate of 2-03.3.

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Melbourne Observer - Wednesday, February 20, 2013 - Page 63

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