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Letters from Early New Zealand

Lyttelton. September 2nd, 1851

page 219
Lyttelton. September 2nd, 1851.

My Dear Mother,

I sent off yesterday a letter to Sara, and to C. Pollen, each with enclosures, and we hope and expect they would be in time for the Laura, the direct ship home from Wellington, by which my last to you was also to go. I can now thank you for a very long letter by the Dominion which I received on Friday, and for all the news it contained; and I may also repeat here, although I try to thank them individually, how very much I am obliged to everyone for writing so well. There is no one out here who gets nearly as many (private) letters as we do.

September 3rd. You never used to let us keep your birthday, but here we must do as we like, and Arthur and I must get up some festivity, and I must tell you from 16,000 miles off how much I wish and pray for every blessing you can have, and of how many happy returns I wish for you of this and every other day in the year…. I saw Mrs. Cookson on Saturday, and they have taken a house with four little rooms in it, so small that I do not know where they, and two children, and two servants, will put themselves to. They mean to stay there for some months, and look about for a nice situation where they can make a nice garden. Their youngest child died on board, which makes her look very sad, poor thing, when children are mentioned. It was the only death on board, and I hear it had had something the matter from its birth, and then when it got, like most of the other children on board, first measles, and then whooping-cough, it could not recover. Twenty-nine were ill at once, and I believe the doctor is not thought very clever. However, poor thing, I believe she knows that no amount of good nursing or care could have saved it. But illness with a child, at sea, is wretched; you can get neither quiet, nor space, nor, sometimes, fresh air, nor warmth (unless you are in a warm latitude), nor any of the page 220little etceteras, warm baths and so on, that one imagines so requisite in illness, and it is a miserable feeling that you are not doing the best that can be done. The Cooksons lost another child, just before they left England. I think she seems a nice person, but very decided and anxious-looking, if you know what I mean; I doubt whether she will be very agreeable. He seems very popular and a most amiable, excellent man. In the same ship, came out a little Miss Roberts, to be a governess, and she came to call upon me (and stopped my writing yesterday) and gave me this account of the child's death. She came to see if I could help her in finding a situation. But I could only "wish" and shake my head, and then, by way of a sort of hint gave her a slight sketch of Mrs. Dysandt's history, which I have told you, and of her approaching marriage! But she altogether repudiates the idea of marrying and says she will, and can, undertake anything; governessing in all its branches, even here, to the nursery and dressing department; all kinds of house work, cooking, superintending farming operations, which power of usefulness, in spite of her protest, marks her out for a colonist's wife. The young men here should, I think, draw lots for her.

There was but one lady chief-cabin passenger on board the Bangalore; a Mrs. Tribe. I have not yet seen her; all I know of her is that, Mr. Tribe being unwell, she attended the sale of surplus stores from some of the recently arrived ships; and as it does not often happen that ladies attend sales here, Mr. Longden, who was acting as auctioneer, found that when she bid for anything no one would bid against her. So he perpetrated a small joke, to the effect that she must be considered, for the moment, not in her female capacity, but as the legal representative of — Tribe, Esq. When the sale was over, he, being the most gallant of men, immediately went to Mrs. Tribe to apologise to her and assure her "duty to his employers," etc. Upon which Mrs. Tribe, to show her perfect forgiveness, called for a pot of beer. Mr. Bowdery (and Kirby) has not appeared, but in his place a Mr. Bowron, also late bookseller in Oxford Street, also with daughters, and I cannot help thinking you may have heard the name im-page 221perfectly. I have only met them in the street as yet, but they look like nice people, and the daughters are rather pretty, but I don't know who can receive any of them at present. They have, I fear, very little capital; and unless he sells his land again (fifty acres) or part of it, in small lots, I don't know how he and all his family are to live, build a house, etc., before the land can produce anything. Some of the people have made a great deal of money by selling an acre or two of their land in very small patches to suit the working people, very many of whom have now bought their own little patches, on which they can have a minute cottage and garden. Mr. (the Revd. B.) Dudley, the incumbent of this place, chose his fifty acres on the hill along the "bridle path", and by selling about nine acres, he got back the whole of his purchase-money (for the fifty acres), and about £200 or more besides. But as he employed a surveyor, an attorney, and an auctioneer, each of a grasping and somewhat suspicious character, I am afraid he will not realize much by the transaction. (I have since heard that he has done very well and not suffered one penny by the failure.) Indeed the auctioneer has just failed, having absorbed the greater part of the proceeds of all his sales. It has made quite a sensation here, but we have not heard yet what he can pay in the pound. He is more than suspected of foul play. He used to adopt the George Robins' style, and send most absurd advertisements to the Lyttelton Times. Mr. and Mrs. Cookson called yesterday, and stayed to dine with us; they talk of coming on shore the end of this week, into such a tiny house. They seem really nice people, I liked her much better than the first time. I suspect she is like me, and does not, naturally, like new people. In a Colony, one comes across such curious people; it seems very ungracious to say so, but unconsciously one becomes almost a little afraid of new-comers, unless one knows something about them. If anyone gets into a scrape, or makes a bad marriage—"Oh, go out to New Zealand (or some other very distant Colony) where no one will know anything about it." One is sometimes disposed to feel a little indignant about it, but in fact, it is a very good and right thing that there should be a place where people can, as it page 222were, begin over again; and if they will only not often call very early in the morning, and not sit very long, I am sure I have no right to complain.

We have such a lovely morning (September 5th), and Arthur has gone with Powles to gather a dish of Maori cabbage; it is a kind of weed that grows very abundantly in places, here, and is something between a turnip and a cabbage; but after rain, or in the spring, the fresh sprouts are very good to eat, as a substitute for turnip tops; we dress it like spinach, and think it very good, as one does any vegetable here. Arthur, when he gathers them is allowed to help them at dinner, which he can do pretty well. Hamilton Ward heard him asking me last night "how many" some difficult numbers made, so to puzzle him he said, "How many beans make five?" So Arthur said, quite quick, "One more than four," which would have done for William's "sell book," I think, in old days, it came so pat. The FitzGeralds are making a very nice garden. They have got such a woman, for their single servant! She is the widow of an emigrant who was killed in the docks on board, I think, the Bronté, so a subscription was got up for her, to be, I think, invested in land here. No official notice of this came out with her, and she has been once to me, and once to my husband, to scold us, because the money is not at once forthcoming, "She thought it" (the Association) "was an honourable Company," and that we ought to take the two children (of five and two and very naughty) and clothe, feed, and send them to school, and let her be at liberty to go to a place. The FitzGeralds cannot keep her any longer, she is so stupid, but half in charity, and as she had been a London servant, took her at first, children and all. The other day, Mr. F. sent their little boy up to get a few little shrubs from the wood, to see if they would grow into a hedge, so presently he asked, "Well, Mrs. Waller, did those little plants come?" "Oh yes, Sir, I've got them drying on the stove." Then Mrs. FitzGerald had been herself cooking some pigeons with rice, as she cannot cook a bit. "Oh"—said Mrs. Waller— "that is so like Irish stew" "Is it?"—said Mrs. F.— "why do you think so?" "Oh, because there is so much page 223of it." It makes one think of Kidderminster and the fleas, and of that saying "about as big as a stone."

I have just heard that the Labuan mail is to close tomorrow at twelve; and as she goes by India, I think I shall send this, on the chance of its being a good way. If this should arrive before the letter that is to go to you (D.V.) in a day or so, direct from Wellington, by the ship Laura, I must tell you, with many thanks understood, that everything has arrived quite safely, and in order, up to the present time, including the last Dominion letters, with an account of the 7th May breakfast. I hope in my next to tell you of the safe arrival of the Lady Nugent and Captain Parsons, and of our having visited the old cabin and thought of your actually being in it. I shall hope for rather more comforting accounts of poor Charles; I could not help, at last, writing a line to him, and enclosed it either to Charlotte Pollen, or to Sara, I am not sure which. C.P. never tells me how she is herself, and Hungerford only mentions those matters quite in a business-like way, but I had had my own fears of what you say, that she was not very strong this time. I am thinking that perhaps I have not yet said enough about E. Lewis. She is a very nice girl in many ways, so very willing and goodnatured to me, but she is like a good many, not at all particular in her work, and will never even dust the room all over unless you watch her; and really the house is so small and so simply furnished, that she has no wonderfully hard work. Generally she has done her work before twelve, and then sits and works; but she washes her own clothes, and a few of Arthur's little things. Her place was much harder at first, when we had the Maori boy, who was a very inefficient help, and she used to fight with him, I hear now, until he beat her a good deal the hardest one day. Now, I believe, she fights, whenever she has the opportunity, with poor Charity, who is a regularly solid girl, good-natured to the greatest degree, and very honest, and only sixteen; so Elisabeth thinks herself so very superior that she is always snubbing her. This I hear from Powles when I have asked how she was getting on, but it has never yet come before me. It seems, too, that Elisabeth has inspired a romantic attachment in one of our policemen; the page 224little Irishman, who plays violin, or flageolet, at our balls; but I believe she professes not to smile on him at all. Powles is not displeased at this, and says, "Well, it's not a bad thing for Halfpenny (that is his name) is always standing at that corner to watch, so you are sure the house is well guarded." One morning she had "some words" with Charity, about lighting the fire, and she followed them up with some blows, which Powles discovered; and as she likes her, through all her misdemeanours, she frightened her very much at what is to be done on the next offence, but begged me not to notice it. Both she and Charity have grown very fat since they came, I think I may say that they live better, and have, on the whole, more comfortable places than any other servants out here. I think there is no fear of their going away, except to be married. They each have fifteen pounds a year, which is considered good wages here for anything but an experienced servant, or cook. Elisabeth has a very respectable cousin here, Henry Jones, who was foreman in some very large establishment in London; he is a carpenter, and married, just before he came out (in the Cressy), a very smart lady who was a cook in London. They built a very good house on "the Esplanade" that is our High Street, facing the sea, of course. It cost them £200, and they now live in it, and have a workshop, and let the rest for three pounds a week. I don't know what ground rent they pay, but though he is just now much pressed from his first expenses (we have been helping him a little), they are sure, humanly speaking, to be very well off soon. I have just been out to see one of our old sailors from Lady Nugent who is going on in the Labuan, to Calcutta. You would have been amused to see how he shook hands with us, quite like old friends, and apologised for not coming to see us sooner, because he was a little afraid of being persuaded into taking too much. Arthur is now showing him his flags. I must say good-bye, and close, for fear of being late. You must give a great deal of love to everyone, and to Heneage when you write. I was expecting to hear that he would soon be tired of Malta. I cannot help hoping to hear of Coombes coming back, for I should be so sorry not to find him. I hope David Gardener is going on well, page 225please give him some message from me, and pray remember me very kindly to Mr. Evans; and when you write, please send much love to Stokesley; but I forget, and perhaps you may be there before this arrives. Wherever it is, God bless you, and all you care for, in which number I hope I may include

Your very affectionate daughter,

Charlotte.

Arthur sends you a lovely composition of his; I believe it is called "The Channel Fleet," "at sunset," I am to add. He has just begged me to send this portrait of me to Uncle Charles; I need not say all his own idea. I forgot, in my note to Frances, to thank her for the F.E.W. tin case, and to wish her joy of Mad. Sigel's approaching departure.