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Variety In Brief

I was exceedingly interested in Mr. James Cowan's article in the March number of the “N.Z. Railways Magazine” about the work of the early Wesleyan Missionaries, the more so as the Rev. John Hobbs is my greatgrandfather, and the Rev. William Gittos my great-uncle. Mr. Gittos was greatly beloved of the Maoris. I recently met a descendant of a Maori who knew him, at Lower Hutt, and he spoke glowingly of the Maoris’ love and regard for “Te Kitohi.” In 1839, Mr. Hobbs made the trip from Hokianga to Port Nicholson by whaleboat, accompanied only by Maoris. En route he called on his friend Te Rauparaha, at Kapiti Island, the latter's stronghold. That worthy had profound respect for the missionary, and received him with the utmost cordiality. Only a day or so previously, however, he had ordered a slave girl who had been unfortunate enough to incur his displeasure to prepare an oven for her own cremation! Arrived at the entrance of the Hutt River, Mr. Hobbs found a Scotsman who was trying to fashion a boat, and as he had no nails he was melting metal in a fire and trying to make substitutes. Being the only white resident in the Wellington province, he pined for the society of some of his kind, and hoped to sail to Akaroa, where there were a few white settlers. Strangely enough it was only a year after that, that the first white settlers arrived at Port Nicholson. When they parted, the Scotsman, wishing to express his gratitude to the missionary for his help and inspiration, presented him with his most treasured possession—a book of the Psalms of David. Mr. Cowan referred to Mr. Hobbs's share in influencing the Maoris to sign the Treaty of Waitangi. For many weeks previous to the signing of the Treaty. Mr. Hobbs's friend, Tamati Waka Nene, the famous Ngapuhi chief, daily discussed the matter with the missionary, and it was the chief's influence on the momentous occasion which turned the tide in favour of the signing of the Treaty. He had eventually become convinced of the wisdom of entrusting the destinies of his people to the “Great White Queen.” The Maoris were wavering, but after his impassioned appeal the waverers were convinced of the wisdom of the step— the procession to the tent in which the fateful document lay commenced, and the Treaty was signed. Mr. Hobbs went to Sydney in 1827 to meet his English bride, and they were married there. Frequently he had to leave her at Hokianga for months, but he had no anxiety on her behalf, as he had left her in charge of his faithful friend, Tamati Waka Nene. The trip to Port Nicholson occupied months, as Mr. Hobbs walked back to Hokianga through the bush. Even in those days the missionaries sometimes had visitors from the Homeland. About a hundred years ago, Lady Franklin, wife of the famous explorer, Sir John Franklin, was for a considerable time a guest of the Rev. J. Hobbs and Mrs. Hobbs at the mission house. This gently born woman was carried in a chair by the sailors up the hill. Grief-stricken, she hoped to hear something of her husband who had gone on a voyage of exploration in the Arctic and had not been heard of since. Lady Franklin travelled round the world on this unsuccesful quest. The tragedy of it, that the mystery should remain unsolved till some four years ago, during an aerial survey of the Arctic, when remains of Sir John Franklin's expedition were discovered. When Lady Franklin returned Home, knowing what rare treasures books were at the Mission House, she sent some little books for the small Hobbs children, and it was interesting to note that they were given to the Franklin children by their god-mother, “Margaret Hamilton.” There is small doubt that this lady was the mother of Lord Frederick Hamilton, the famous author, as the two families were great friends.—“Jasmine.”

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An extraordinary thing happened in the United States some time ago. A locomotive weighing nearly 170 tons, one of the biggest freight engines in the country, was lost during a flood. There was a cloud burst and a wall of water roared down a ravine, destroying an embankment and sending the engine hurtling into the ravine. It disappeared entirely into a stream that filled the gully.

No one knew exactly where it was. Yet it was valuable enough to justify salvaging. How could its whereabouts be found?

An engineer passed over the stream holding a magnetic needle. Suddenly the needle began to move, as though attracted by a mass of iron.

“Here,” said the engineer, “is the engine.”

Arrangements were made to salvage it, and it was found at the exact spot indicated by the needle. —“Redan.”