EATING A PHILANTHROPIST.

A Tale Of New Zealand.
{"newspaper_name": "The Southern journal.", "edition": "01", "page": "p1", "byline": ""}
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How beautiful is nature! says the poet:
How delightful! sighs the sentimentalist,
to contemplate man, in his natural state,
untrammelIed by the artificial restraints Of
society! @
Such were the exclamations Of Mr.. Au-
gus:us Snivelle, as he reclined on a couch
in the classic region Of Regent street,
His form was envel!oped in garment Of
variegated colors, in which the green and
red We'd with the yellow and The purple.
In one hand Mr.. Snivelle held copy Of
the Tales Of the Colonies. in which the
manners and customs of the natives of Van
Dieman's Land are so sweetly described;
in the other he held a pipe--not vulgar
thing Of cJay--but real Meerschaum,
from whose amber mouth-piece he inhaled
the fragrance Of the Persian weed, and
gently pulled the wrea,hing smoke from his
languid lips. a


"Oh! where," he said, els nature to be
found in all her pristine simplicity! Not
in St. James, Park, nor the Lowther Ar
cade! | am weary with the decelts and
the sophisticutions Of civilized lie. Be
sides, am getting too fat; | will go TO
New Zealand" Ple went.


Beneath roof thatched with the leaves
of the fax plant, lay Pummereboo. His
form was unentrammelled by the artificial
restraint Of braces, because he was without
that article of dress which those con-
veniences are intended TO support; neither
had he shoes and stockings, or waistcoat,
or coat, or shirt, or shirt collar. His only
garment--a sort of mat which adorned his
person when he went abroad--was care
lessIy laid aside, displaying without en-
cumbrances the elegant patterns curiously
tattooed in various devices on his bislre
colored skin; and as he smiled as he thought
Of his coming repast, he showed a fcrmid-
able row of teeth, strong and firmly set TO
make fat man tremble. In his left hand
was bit Of fern root, at which he conde.
scended to nibble while he waited Cor
breakfast; in his right hand he held ma
tive tomahawk with which he was won't 10
kill slave or a wife occasionally, when it
pleased him to do so. He was an unsophis-
ticated child of nature.


"Where," he said, as he threw away his
fern root, and gave his tomahawk a
little flourish, h,-"Where is Wirrlwarri,
wow?'


| Wirriwarriwow appeared. She was as
little trammeIled by artificial restraint as
her lord Being engaged in the domestic
duty of preparing the matutinal meal. she
had dispensed with the mat which some.
times shaded her charms from strangers
eyes; and she stood as nature had formed
her, perfectly unconscious that her appear
ancc would have excited considerable sur





prise in the Regent street Of the white peo-
pie. She stood--in the wilds Of New Zeal.
and--in the unsophislica,ed state Of ma.
ture's loveliness; and save row of sharks
teeth around her neck, and string Of coral
pendant from her nose, she was a practical
illustration of that most poetical and deli
cate idea of beauty when unadorned, adorn.
ed the most. ....-..


s'Where is my breakfast?" said the
chief; and us he spoke he played with
his tomahawk--promiscuous-like.


"Wirriwarriwow pointed to the path that
led TO their cottage ornee.


4 "a white man comes"


"What sort of man is he?" said the
chief. his mouth watering with anticipa.
ton.


"a very fat one"


The chiefs eyes sparkIed. "Cover your
SELF" said he, with your ,nat.''


His vile obeyed; she threw over hel
copper colorcd shoulders sort Of New
Zealans Polka--rather scant--and there
awaited the approach Of the fat stran-
ger. a4sa


Mr.. Augustus SniveIle arrived--not al
the door--because it had no door--but al
the entrance Of the chiefs dwelling. lie
surveyed the lady with intelligent Gu
tiosity. i
Z: The chief frowned; and then smiled as
he made rough mental calculation o
teppcnny nails. Mr.. Snivelle beheld the