WE have been favoured with the following paper by an intending colonist. As an example of the light in which the Association is viewed, and its project accepted, by those most interested, we willingly find a place for it here. But, independently of the circumstances under which it is written, as elucidating a principle it is deserving of attention.
THE CLUB PRINCIPLE,
Which is now the order of the day, and is being carried into effect in all the walks of life, from one end of the kingdom to another, is that by which the maximum of comfort and luxury with the minimum of expense is realized. In proof of it, witness the number of model dwellings, baths, wash-houses, &c., for the poor that are being reared up on this plan, and the increasing number of clubs that are springing up in every street of the West End of London.
How do a number of young men of limited means manage to build a palace in Pall Mall—to furnish it in regal style, and enrich it with the treasures of literature and art? Is it not by clubbing together that they get this splendid habitation—their dinner table covered with damask, costly plate, and sparkling crystal—their retinue of courteous butlers, stately porters, messengers of despatch, faultless flunkies, and their joint at eating-house prices? Is not all this, and much more, done by association and organization? for all the combination in the world would be of no avail without order and method.
Take the origin of any one club—say a military one. A number of gentlemen belonging to the army found themselves constantly in London, spending their leave of absence from their regiments; or, perhaps, on business. Many of them had few friends and acquaintances in town; they had to get their meals either at good and ruinous hotels, or cheap and nasty eating houses. Some bright genius said—If we were to club together all the money we fritter away individually, we might have, at the eating-house prices, as good, or better, than the best hotels now give us, and have something to show for our money. A dozen of those this genius first converted formed themselves into an association, named a committee of management, appointed a secretary, and wrote to state their views to those they thought would join them. Here was the nucleus—they soon numbered hundreds; and the result is before our astonished eyes in the splendid edifice thus created.
The Canterbury Association, with its committee of management and secretary, is nothing more nor less than a nucleus to form a club in New Zealand. They say, individuals colonizing are in the position of the individual members before they joined the club—they fritter away their substance in small colonial 'eating shops,' and have nothing to show for it but disappointment, failure, and vexation. They ask them to combine; and offer them as the premium for so doing, not palaces, damask, plate, crystal, and a pompous array of menials, but a splendid country, a magnificent climate, a stake in the soil, a comfortable home, a position in a nation, full occupation for their time and talent, a certainty of something for their children, and the joint at eating-house prices as long as they live.
