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Letters from Early New Zealand

Wellington. September 10th, 1850

page 95
Wellington. September 10th, 1850.

My Dear Mother,

Yesterday we "closed our accounts" and sent them on board the Fairy Queen, which did not, however, sail till this morning, and I wished to be in her perhaps as much as it is possible (for me) to wish myself at sea. If I did not dread the idea of a voyage so much, I should have wished it too much, so it is just as well as it is. On Sunday we had a grand ceremony in view from the back of our house, no less than laying the first stone of a R.C. Cathedral, with a procession and all form. It is a very small one, and belongs to the French Mission here, which consists of the Bishop and about six priests and I believe as many nuns, but I have never seen any of them. It is to be built very substantially, and with thick walls, but of wood, and there is to be a very good bell, and an organ. They had such a lovely day, bright calm, and warm enough to sit out under an umbrella, but still fresh in the evening, quite perfect; but I fear very uncommon here, where there are such unceasing storms of wind, even in the summer, and sometimes changing so suddenly in direction that you would think it blew from two places at once; The saying is in N.Z. that you may know a Wellington man by his having always his hand on his hat. A hat cord would not do, it would only enable you to bear it safely from one point to another, your head would never be covered. Almost everyone wears a cap, and the few who persist in the round hats have them of most curious form; Mr. Fox, for instance, has always in front a wavy line of brim, which has evidently, after many struggles, succumbed to a continuous pinch from a finger and thumb; and Mr. Domett's would be considered shabby on any decently dressed scare-crow.

September 12th. Just a year since we left Stokesley! little dreaming where we should spend the anniversary. My husband laughs at me so for remembering all these days, page 96and "Well what then?" I cannot say what, but still I like to think of them, it seems to remind me so clearly of many little details that I already spend perhaps too much time in thinking about, as thinking cannot bring people or things nearer. Here it was, at least, made sweet by quantities of violets, the first I have seen since our last spring a year and a half ago, in London. We have had two autumns, two winters, and one short summer since, but no spring, I never thought violets so sweet before, which is saying a good deal, and now we have quite an abundance of them. First came, in the morning, a large bouquet of them with Mrs. Eyres' compliments! then, calling at Mrs. McCleverty's, she gathered for me a great handful of large double ones, and I had another bunch given me of white and blue single; and last, not least, we found a large plant in the garden covered with buds; so the room is quite sweet, besides two nosegays of wallflowers, stocks, etc. In the evening, we were lucky enough to get our pianoforte tuned by a passenger in the Mariner, who understands that, amongst other things, sheep farming and so on. He has really done it very well though it is not perfect; but it was so bad before that it is a great thing for us to have got him at all. Mr. Mackworth, whom I mentioned as having called on us (also a Mariner), is, we find, very musical; plays beautifully, and sings in a fabulously high tenor voice. I heard him to-day (13th) when we were calling at Mrs. Fox's, where he was tuning her pianoforte, which is a very good one; which kind office he also did for Mrs. Gold, who had out a new semi-grand one from Broadwood by the Lady Nugent. I believe that if anyone wanted to bring out a pianoforte, a square one is the best, because the machinery is much more simple than in one like ours (a low cabinet P.F.), where, if anything got broken, a mere tuner cannot repair it as he can in the square ones, and I think, too, that for anyone coming out for good, it would answer to bring out a more expensive kind than ours (£28 in its packing case from Wornham), they seem to bear the voyage far better; Mrs. Eyre's, Mrs. Gold's and Mrs. Fox's, hardly suffered at all, while I can afford now to say that ours was very bad. Our friend Mr. Giblin was dramming away at page 97it from six to ten p.m. I wish now so much that I had more music, but I did ask Louisa to send me a little, but she must not copy it, which is only bad for her eyes; only play it a little while, and then ask Tom Cocks if he can and will pay her for it, and send it off to us.

The Mariner goes off (D.V.) early to-morrow, September 15th, by Nelson to Canton, and my husband is longing to go in her. I should like very much to see China, too, and it is a fine weather passage from here, after leaving this coast, but for my own part I think nothing but England could make me wish myself again on the highly poetical but very detestable "bounding wave". I cannot see a vessel leave the harbour (unless going direct home) without feelings of intense pity for anyone who may be on board. Still we have no news of the Lord William Bentinck, which is now our hope for letters. In case this reaches you first, I may as well say that by the Mariner, which arrived September 2nd, we had not a single letter except indeed Laura's journal in a box; which, though a host in itself, still does not give a detailed account of business matters, nor yet of all the home news, and we are now daily hoping for the L.W.B. which sailed a few days before the Mariner and may, we think, have carried off all the P.O. letters.

September 15th, Sunday. To-day went the Mariner and we have now only one three-masted vessel in the harbour, which looks very empty without the Acheron, etc. It is quite pleasant, as the weather improves, to walk along the Hurt road on Sunday afternoon, and see it covered with smart-looking people (I was going to say well dressed people but that is not true).

We are quite delighted with the shopkeepers here, and indeed all the people of that class. We have made acquaintance with some very nice ones, and they are generally very civil. If we go into a new shop they seem quite delighted to seeus, and it is generally "yes we have, Mrs. Godley" to shew that they know who we are. But they have not an idea of pressing you to buy things, and very often you find the shop shut, and the door locked, the tradesman having preferred going out that day; or it is empty, and you might carry off half the shop, before your drumming on the counter page 98brings in a boy with a hot potato in his mouth; the only one who will leave his dinner.

October 1st. I have so many things to write about I hardly know where to begin, but in the first place we have received all the letters that should have come by the Mariner, and had a regular feast of news, and thank you all for them so very much. I hope in the next you will say that you have the letters we wrote en voyage. It is so stupid, I know, writing so many times without anything to answer, but still we could not help it, and we have been, I hope, pretty good about writing. You ought, by this time, to have got both the letters we sent by ship "direct" in May; one to yourself, and one to Louisa and Frances. But to be orderly I must go back to September 16th, Sara's birthday, and duly remembered indeed, but what a different day from old times, when we used always to spend it at Cefn, and have a cake presented by Mrs. Palfrey, besides one made by Mrs. Clarke for the great tea-drinking in the evening. Here it was partly spent in preparation for the next day's expedition "up the coast", as we call it, fifty-two miles, to Otaki, where Mr. Hadfield lives. You will not, I think, find it in any map; but it is on the west coast, about Latitude 40½. Captain O'Connell lent us a bright yellow dog-cart to hold four (much the smartest carriage here), and we hired a horse, weak, and slow to the last degree, but the best that we could get, and on September 17th, a lovely morning, behold us starting quite en famille, my husband riding his own horse, William driving, with a hunting-whip of my husband's, Powles by him, and Arthur and I, in state, in the seat behind, much elated at the whole affair and at finding ourselves again on wheels which has become a sort of treat. I don't know which of us enjoyed the idea of the expedition most, but I do know who expressed such feelings most loudly. I was quite amused at Arthur's excitement; he was singing all the songs he knew, and they are not few, quoting about "the stones did rattle", from J. Gilpin, and telling us of the feats to be accomplished up the coast with his father's gun; which, unloaded, and in its leather case he took charge of, with the privilege of having it put on his side of the carriage. We went along the Porirua road, which page 99I think you must know now by name, through about sixteen miles of beautiful bush, down at last on to the beach of the Porirua harbour (and this is or ought to be in the map), which has a very narrow entrance, and stretches inland, like a lake with tide, and surrounded with low wooded hills, for several miles. Where the beach is not firm or smooth enough, the road is cut along the hill at the side, and it is very sufficiently good, although you do get a few jolts, enough to alarm you for borrowed springs. Five miles along this, brought us to Pawatenui where we were to sleep; the public-house there being somewhat cleaner and better than the other houses of entertainment on the road. Even at Pawatenui we paid a visit, such a gay country is this! A 65th officer is there, in charge of a company now occupying the military post, and he, meeting us on the road, introduced himself, and took us up the hill to see the stockade and to call on his wife, they invited us to dine and drink tea, and spend the evening, which we firmly but respectfully declined, and went off for a walk; in which, however, we met with no adventure or striking novelty, not even a green parrot, after one that at starting flew close by us and made John go back for his gun. In the "Hotel", as Arthur persisted in calling it, we occupied the state apartments; a very quaint little building, out behind, about as large as the bathing house at Cefn; without a ceiling, and peeps of light through the roof, where we sat with the door open, to get the smoke to go up the chimney. It was all very clean, the furniture including a washhandstand, and two little beds which were screened off into a bedroom. We had some very good fried pork and potatoes, and plenty of eggs; and for dinner, tea, and breakfast, for five, besides two horses, paid only £1, 6s. 0d. The next morning we were up betimes, as we had (with a slow horse) rather a long journey before us. We began with eight miles of gradual ascent through the Horokiwi valley, still more striking in bush scenery and sharp cliffs than anything we had seen before; it made us think sometimes of the road near Beddgelert and Point "Everlasting".1 At the top we went through a short cutting, and then came suddenly upon a magnificient view, page 100which when it is fine, extends to Mount Egmont, (New Plymouth) and another separate hill, each more than twice as high as Snowdon. Unluckily we found the distance very misty, but still the view was very striking. The chain of thickly-wooded hills, which we had been winding up and through, leaves the coast at this point, and goes a mile or two inland, still running parallel with the sea. On the other side, the island of Kapiti, though eight miles before us, seemed nearly under our feet, at a distance of two or three miles from the shore; and immediately below us lay a strip of low land, and sand-hills, running down to a sandy beach that, with its lines of white surf, stretched away further than the eye could reach; the country, to my surprise, dotted over with little cultivations and native pahs, some deserted, but many in full activity; for it is a very favourite spot, being perfectly sheltered from all cold wind. We had then to descend the hill, the road winding down, but pretty steep, for more than two miles. There had been a small landslip, too, near the top; but we, having had timely notice, came prepared with a shovel, and soon cleared enough from the road to make it passable, though it was rather a near thing, and an accident would have been unpleasant, as there is not any kind of fence between you and a precipice of I don't know how many feet, about 1,200. At the bottom of the hill there is a "resting" place for man and horse, with the euphonious appellation of "Scotch Jock", though kept by a Mr. Nicholls, who, like almost all the old whalers settled here, has a Maori wife. We did not rest long, as we were not to dine till Waikane, our next stage after eight miles along the beach; which, when the tide is at all low. makes a beautiful road of hard sand. Our horse, however, did not seem to admire it as much as we did, and refused to go at all sometimes; and the utmost efforts of William and the hunting-whip only induced a slow amble of a few yards, and then another walk, and then another stop. Waikane is the most desert-looking place that perhaps ever was seen except the Manawatu further on. It is a collection of hills of loose sand, through which a river winds into the sea, and about it are a few very small attempts at houses, nearly all thatched and covered with a kind of coarse grass, all about page 101the same colour as the sand; then there is a large Church, built by the Maoris for themselves, and the old pah which looks at first sight something like a garden (without the plants) and the palings of the fence are many of them painted of a dull red, and some are ornamented at the top with great carved figures in wood, as monstrous as any you can conceive. You must understand that the Maori huts are never built high enough to be visible over their paling; they are just high enough, and only just, for them to stand up in; with a hole dug in the middle where the fire burns, and the potatoes are cooked, and another hole in one side of the wall through which they creep in and out. Such huts as are in the best repair as to keeping out wind, etc., are in great request at night, and they pack in literally as you would put things into your little carriage basket, which I remember always much fuller than it could hold. It is so funny to stand at the door and see them come out, one after another, till they cover a place nearly twice as big as the house. Of course the civilized Maoris are civilized in their houses too, but that comes by degrees, and then, for their chiefs, they build them sometimes most beautifully, in reeds that look like beautiful wicker work, but at Waikane there are still plenty of the old-fashioned ones, though in many respects the natives there are very much advanced and enlightened. There is a "resident Magistrate" there, Major Drury, of the Spanish Legion, who, as soon as he heard of our arrival was very civil about offering us a fresh horse instead of our tired one; but there were two words to that arrangement, for in this country you must always "first catch your horse", as there are neither stables nor enclosures; so that after eating a not very dirty dinner, we thought it better to make a real start, with such a steed as we had, than to waste our precious daylight in waiting any longer, on the chance of another. This same tired horse rather spoiled the pleasure of the journey! William walked the greatest part of the way, and we all did sometimes, but it was rather tiresome sitting there in a cold wind, either going a foot's pace, with a running accompaniment of blows and exclamations from William, or else, thinking ourselves very hardhearted when the poor thing broke into a mournful trot; page 102though I believe he could go better when he liked. It was a wild scene indeed, on that misty afternoon, threading our way along the unending line of beach. We could see the tops of the blue hills, through clouds running parallel, a few miles inland, over the low sand-hills that began immediately after high-water mark; with here and there stunted-looking vegetation like hay growing, and this, mile after mile, till evening came on, without a single land-mark, except the little streams, which were none of them above the horse's knees, (except the Waikane river, but as the tide was low we managed to ford that too). At last to our great joy we saw our dear Mr. Hadfield coming down to meet us.

It was with him we were going to stay at Otaki, and as the last bit of road, four miles across country, literally, was mostly through swamp, and not very good, even for an N.Z. bye-road, he came to pilot us himself. We were very glad to turn inland, and to get out and walk through sand-hills, among which the carriage tumbled along pleasantly enough when it was empty; and then came a bit of swamp, and then one hole in it, so soft and deep, that both carriage and horse seemed to take root. It was nearly dark, and if we had been alone, I think we must have abandoned the hope of seeing Otaki, even by candlelight, for that night. But we had not only Mr. Hadfield, who knew so exactly the best bits of the road, or rather track, but Mr. Williams, too, his coadjutor, who had also come to meet us, and who persuaded the horse, in some marvellous way, that he could get out of the bog, and bring the carriage too, and then cross a river, deeper than any we saw that day; and at last to our great joy, the village, much scattered, but still a village, and its lights, came in sight. We were not a little pleased to find ourselves arrived, as you may suppose, and pretty tired too, though the last little bit was very pleasant, after our difficulties, bog, river, etc., were over, and we came to the meadows about Otaki; the evening dew giving us all sorts of sweet smells, though it was much too dark to see what or where they came from, as we trotted, on our feet, along our little winding path, Arthur talking as fast as ever, and not too tired, thanks to a precautionary little nap, which he had taken after page 103his dinner, and to sitting on the horse before his father, when we lightened our vehicle.

Mr. Hadfield's house is a little low cottage, built of reeds, and thatched with a long reedy grass that the natives call "toi-toi". There is a door in the middle, and on one side his bedroom, and on the other his sitting-room; and through the sitting-room, a bedroom with a little bath-room, larger and better than the other rooms, with a large French bed with white curtains, carpet all over the floor, quite luxurious. This last apartment was all new since my husband was at Otaki, two months before, and indeed was I believe finished at that time expressly to contain me. I was the first lady who had ever paid Mr. Hadfield a visit, and was made much of accordingly; he questioned the servants, and then, wherever it was possible, had everything for us exactly as we had it at home. His only servant is a Maori boy of about fourteen, who was baptized a few years ago by the name of Cole; very good and intelligent, and of course very unlike anything you ever saw in the way of a servant. He has long been one of the best boys at school, but was quite new to his business as a servant; his long black hair unbrushed, his brown feet bare, black trowsers, and always a very clean white shirt, and over that one of blue serge; the regular colonial working garments. (William does his stable work in one). He, of course, cannot speak English, and, though very respectful, talks to his Master quite in a different way from our button-boys at home; addresses him as Harrawidda, their version of Hadfield (they have no Mr.), and in all his difficulties he had only to speak, and his voice, without opening the door, was perfectly audible from a little pantry, or exaggerated cupboard, formed by the end of the passage opposite the door, full of tea-cups, etc., where the mysteries of preparing the tea-tray were gone through. Mr. Hadfield only drinks water, so this was all new to him, and the first night it would have made anyone laugh, after many consultations through the wall, to see him come in with the tray, a knife, a Rockingham tea-pot, a slop-basin, and two cups without saucers, all looking as if they had lost their way, and didn't know where to stand upon it. He came just inside page 104the door with this, and then, seeing me sitting in the corner expecting it, he was quite overpowered, and with the Maori for "Oh", he disappeared. Mr. Hadfield had to go and help him, and we all to keep our countenance as well as we could. William and Powles lived at the schoolmaster's, an Englishman who talks Maori; and the kitchen was a little shed, just outside the house, and built of the same material. The reeds are bound together, like a Pan's pipe, with strips of flax, which is stronger than any string, and one side of the room is made all at once, with a hole left, if required, for window or door, and then stuck up and fastened to the wooden frame; and of course the beauty of the work depends on the evenness of the reeds, and the neatness of the fitting. Mr. Hadfield's is not a fair specimen, having been built in a hurry.

We have quite agreed that he is the nicest person we have yet seen, out of England. But I think I have already given you long descriptions of him. He first landed in the north where Archdeacon Williams had been for twenty-two years (the Father of Mr. W. now at Otaki), and when he had been there only a very short time, not long enough to learn Maori, the two young chiefs now baptized as Thompson and Martyn, came up from near Waikane where they then lived, and begged to have someone come down and teach them the white people's religion and their ways. So he came with them, and after sometime these two became Christians, Martyn first sending away two of the three wives he then had, and they have since both spent sometime, with their wives, up at the Bishop's College at Auckland, and are now the great people at Otaki, being cousins, and descended from two of quite the greatest Maori families of chiefs. Mr. Hadfield came amongst them two years before there were any settlers in the country, except a few old whalers, and lived with them for years in such wretched places, by the seashore, in the midst of loose sand-hills. It was he who persuaded them to move inland, at Otaki, and begin cultivations on the rich land nearer the mountains, build good houses, etc., and leave off roaming about, as their manner of life is, along the sea-shore, or up and down the rivers, in their canoes. He has been a few times very page 105near being tomahawked to death, for trying to break through their superstitions; but otherwise they are devoted to him, wherever he is known. At last he got so ill that he was carried, partly by men and partly in a boat, down to Wellington, never expecting to return, He was there for five years, suffering intense pain almost constantly, and always when he moved, and seeing every doctor of any pretention who came into port. At last he took to cold water, and, after a year's treatment, is able to do almost anything. For instance, during this winter he had to go a long way (73 miles) up the coast, beyond where we went, and after a fatiguing day, when it was quite dark, arrived at a river to be crossed, without a canoe; so he took off his clothes, put them on his head, and walked through with the water up to his shoulders; then dressed, in a bitterly cold wind, and went on again to another river, which however he crossed in a canoe, and was not at all the worse. However, as you are not so much interested in him as we are, I will excuse anymore "biography". When the natives at Otaki heard of his coming back, they came together in numbers, and built him his present house in two days, refusing any payment, and Otaki is now his home; but being Archdeacon for a country about 150 miles long, he cannot be very stationary, so he had Mr. Williams to assist him in his home duties. He (Mr. W.) is quite a rough diamond; came out here as baby and neither he nor his wife have ever been out of New Zealand. (Her Father is another Archdeacon Williams, a brother; the two came out together.) As soon as the Bishop's College was established, he was, at his own earnest request, sent there; with a view to being ordained and spending his life in working amongst the Maoris.

The first sound the natives heard the next morning after our arrival was the Church bell, about six o'clock, when almost everyone in the village comes in to Morning Prayer; then school comes till about eight; men and women and all. The Church is not yet finished, and has been built entirely by voluntary contributions of labour; the Government Surveyor says, already to the amount of £2,500, besides of course material, which they get for nothing, in the bush. It is, I grieve to say, a barn-shaped building, page 106ninety feet long, but with a nice high-pitched roof, and good lancet windows, and the inside is very handsome in effect, in the peculiar Maori style; with the one defect, however, of there being only one row of pillars down the middle made of four large "Totara" trees. The ridge pole which they support is also solid Totara, ninety feet long, all painted red, and relieved with arabesques in white over the rest of the woodwork, in the roof. There is a large schoolhouse in which at present the service is performed. The village is very pretty, and stands on a flat, with a brook, or small river, running through it. The bush, with very fine trees, comes close up to the cultivations, and has, so far, been left in patches of wood that ornament the country very much, but as anyone can go and cut for firewood Mr. Hadfield is afraid that they will gradually, as it were, melt away. Besides that, the trees so left generally die of their own accord, when they lose the protection of the bush around. There is everywhere a beautiful background of well-wooded hills, and good high ones too, and the village is quite scattered, and no two houses standing together, each one has about a quarter acre, if not more, for garden and potatoes. Thompson's house is really very pretty; it is weatherboard painted white, tall chimneys, a deep verandah with green trellis work, French windows opening to the ground, and inside done with Maori work, and red and white painting, which looks much better than it sounds. The garden is quite a large one, and beautifully kept, and full of English plants. He came to beg that we would come and pay him a visit, and we accordingly went there as soon as we went out, but that was too soon, and Mrs. Thompson, peeping and laughing, but unwilling to appear, requested that we would "call again to-morrow" which we did, and found her fully prepared in full English costume, and the house all as neat as hands could make it; she complained after our visit (to Powles in confidence) that her stays were very stiff and disagreeable, so I have no doubt that a tolerably solid pain formed part of her English education at Auckland. In one room she showed me a quantity of coats and trowsers, some of naval, and some of military uniforms, all given by Sir G. Grey to old Rauperaha, Thompson's father (who is lately page 107dead), and in another was displayed her own dress, worn at the Government House Ball for the Queen's birthday; a pink and white soft-looking barege, with badly made flounces, and a black silk scarf. Mrs. Martyn's dress was also laid out, when we paid her a visit in just as good a house, and she is an uncommonly nice woman, really quite a natural lady, and so gentle and quiet in her manners, and even dignified; while Mrs. Thompson still bursts out laughing, and hides her face, à tout moment, like a true Maori, though she is perfectly civilized in manner and behaviour. Unfortunately, they can none of them talk English, beyond a few words, though they understand a good deal, and so we could only converse through Mr. Hadfield. Mrs. Thompson has no children, which is a great distress, but Mrs. Martyn has several. Martyn himself is quite an "exemplary character" and as gentle and retiring as his wife, and quite Mr. Hadfield's right-hand man in any scheme for the good of the natives. They have so much reverence for his opinion, and esteem for him personally, besides the influence of his rank, and on public occasions he comes forward as a great orator, which is a talent very much considered among them. On Sunday we had a very full congregation at Church, and a Sunday-school of about 200 men, women, and children. Several classes were taught on the green in front of the school, and the turn-out was most respectable in dress, etc. Thompson and Martyn wear as good clothes as can be made in the Colony, and so do a few others, but the usual dress is a blue shirt with white trowsers, and the women have bright coloured cotton gowns with a shawl, or blanket, or mat, wrapped round them, and put over the head, or not, according to the state of the weather. They never wear anything else but their own thick black hair, which is generally, on Sunday at all events, oiled, and parted down the middle as we do, and looks very nice, especially when it curls well, as is often the case. The wild Maori head-dress is à la mop, and one. frightful woman I saw here with it growing straight up at least six or eight inches, all over her head, and so thick as to look solid.

In Church everyone joins in the responses quite loud and in the singing; I heard them sing a Psalm to one of their own page 108airs, with I thought a very good effect. Indeed, a certain Mr. Lloyd, a great authority in music, I hear says that he is sure that these airs cannot be of Maori origin; they must, he thinks, have been taught them by some Missionary Jesuits of whom they have lost the tradition; they are exactly like the chanting in the R.C. Cathedrals, when it is performed by the priests and without accompaniment.

Mr. Williams went, for the Sunday, to a place about ten miles off. There is always some place wanting a visit from him, or from Mr. Hadfield; there are only native teachers, besides themselves, in the whole district, and so, wherever they go for Sunday, the natives assemble for many miles round, often in hundreds. Mr. Hadfield proposed to us to make an expedition to one of these places of meeeting (of course on a river for the convenience of canoe travelling) thirty-five miles from Otaki, to shew us a little more of the country and to give us, as he said, 'a night in the bush'. Of course, we joyfully acquiesced, and putting the "needful for a night" in my husband's saddle bags, started one fine morning for another drive along the beach road. After six miles we came to a river, which, the tide being high, was to be crossed in boats. The horses had their saddles taken off, ropes tied to their heads, and were then swum across, two going with each turn of the boat. I had ridden so far, as the vehicle had been sent on, in order to ford the stream at low tide, when it is passable; we had with us too "Zacariah", Mr. Hadfield's head teacher, a very nice intelligent native; and an old chief from Otaki, who rode with us for company, who had in old times once all but put an end to Mr. Hadfield with his tomahawk for breaking through a "tapu" (taboo) and who now trotted along most peaceably, with a little foal following. Another native drove me in the carriage, and they talked and laughed together most pleasantly; we were a funny looking party; fifteen miles further, in a northerly direction, brought us to a much larger river, the Manawatu, where we were to leave the vehicle and proceed riding; it is never fordable, being about (vaguely) as wide as the Thames in London, and quite a sea running when there is much wind. We crossed in a canoe and had some trouble with the horses, my husband's page 109swimming so fast ahead (our canoe having only two little paddles) that he broke loose and turned and swam back to the shore again. However, he was soon caught again, and a second attempt was more successful, and at last we were all safely across, and ready for another start. But you may Imagine the delay that these rivers cause. The canoe is generally on the opposite side, the horses don't like taking to the water, or break away; in fact they are the great difficulty in N.Z. travelling, and many people are drowned in trying to cross without a boat, or from getting a bad canoe, and so on. They say more people have been drowned in N.Z. than have yet died in any other way.

Nothing can exceed the dreariness of the country at the mouth of the Manawatu. At low tide shores are left of mixed sand and mud, and there is nothing to be seen but little hillocks covered with loose sand, or else coarse stunted rushes. Then we came to swamp, with some tall reeds, and flax ten or twelve feet high. Mr. Hadfield led the way along a little track easy enough to follow (excepting through the loose sand), and after five or six miles, it ran very much up and down steep hillocks which began to be covered with bushes, and something like vegetation; for our course was inland towards the hills. Just as it got dark we came suddenly into a considerable pah, and a large patch of bush, and I never saw anything nicer than the way in which the natives came flocking out to meet Mr. Hadfield, whose coming was unexpected. We had to pass quite through the village to get to the house we were to sleep in, which turned out to be a very pretty little reed cottage, with two rooms and a passage, and so well-built as to be a beautiful specimen of the style. The only Imperfection was that it had as yet, being unfinished, neither furniture nor fireplace, and that the French windows were a good deal broken. Half a dozen natives took charge of our horses, and turned them out, for of course there was not a stable; and the rest came flocking round us doing anything they could. There was, in the space before the house, a round hole dug about a foot deep, such as they use for ovens and fireplaces; and by this we sat on the ground, wrapped in blankets like themselves, and talking as well as we could, till the kettle was boiled, and other preparations made for page 110tea. They made us a capital fire and the evening, though fine, was just cold enough to make us appreciate it. Mr. Hadfield's time was fully occupied in listening to all the stories they had to tell him, and giving answers to their many questions, etc. They could not have seemed more pleased if their nearest and dearest relation had just returned. A few of the old ones even gave a few notes of "tangi" (that is, a grand cry all round, either for grief when someone is dead, or for joy on meeting after long absence) but as Mr. Hadfield does not approve of " tangis" these were suppressed. He says that he cannot persuade the old Maoris to change all their habits, but they are very well content to let their children learn those that he likes to teach, and the young generation were evidently both better dressed, and better mannered. There was a young man most fashionably dressed, and even understanding a few words of English, who was the builder of the house, and came to us at the fire, to hear its praises, as well as we could express them, and to ask about Port Cooper, about which they are all very curious, and he had an old Father, as Mr. Hadfield said "quite an old Maori" dressed in an old red blanket, with a face tattooed till it was nearly black, who would come and look in at us when we were in the house, and at breakfast next morning there was the black face applied to the largest hole in the window and watching everything we did with the deepest attention.

Some of the men, and one of the women, were very good-looking. I wish you could have seen the group round that fire, with the bright blaze putting out the starlight, and lighting up such picturesque wild-looking faces. In the house, we found an old bedstead which was our table; one chair, some teacups, and a washhandbasin, and some blankets; we made a capital bed in one corner, of fern, and had our tablecloth as a curtain in the window. At the first dawn of day we were up, and at seven were in the canoe which was to take us back to the mouth of the Manawatu, by a winding course of more than thirty miles down the river, though, by the way we had ridden, it was only about nine. We had a fine large canoe and seven paddles, so that we went pretty quick when the wind was not against us. There were numbers of wild ducks, page 111too, and my husband managed to get three brace, besides those we lost. The banks of the river were in some places very pretty, and the woods beautiful, hung over in some places with bunches and garlands of a gigantic white clematis; and another tree which is something like laburnum, was nearly out. All the way down we passed a succession of little native settlements, the inhabitants all rushing out to salute Mr. Hadfield, and get a few words in return. Halfway down, a few white people are settled, one had a "store" and another a steam engine (!) for a saw mill, etc. From this place the banks became flatter and less pretty, and from some difficulty about crossing the horses, which had come to meet us, at the right place, we had to leave our canoe three or four miles up from the mouth, and ride to where we left the carriage, and then home again along the beach road. Our only misfortune was, that in trying to persuade the horse in the carriage to go something beyond a walk, we angered him so much that he kicked his foot right through the splash-board, against my knee. I was not at all hurt, but the carriage was, and being a lent one, of course, we were rather unhappy. However, I hope the saddler here can produce some patent leather to repair the breach; but we had to resign ourselves to very slow progress, and as it began to rain a little and get dark, the way seemed very long. At last I got out, and on to a horse again, and then we cantered home till the bad road came, after leaving the beach; we forded the Ohau as it was low water, and got home before nine; having travelled about sixty miles in the day, which is considered a great deal in N.Z., indeed, no lady had been there before.

Arthur spent the night that we were away from Otaki at Mrs. Thompson's; she had especially invited him and Powles, and a great part of the days was devoted to running about the village, at the head of a troop of perhaps twenty little native children, who were excessively amused at running after him, and in flying little kites made of reeds and grass (by Cole) which flew much more easily than our paper ones, and any length of string is easily got by stripping up the flax leaves into thin bits and knotting them together.

We went one day to dine with Mr. and Mrs. Williams, page 112and were waited upon by a daughter of Martin's, who is there as a servant, receiving no wages, but by way of learning how to do things; which they think all right and not at all infra dig. It was most amusing to watch her manœuvres, she was so overwhelmed at such a large party, for with Mr. Hadfield, and a sister of Mr. W.'s, we made six, and when the large dish holding the leg of mutton had to be lifted off to make room for the pudding, she fairly despaired of ever getting happily through so hazardous an undertaking, and hung down her head, and her clasped hands, with a low cry. We could hardly help laughing, but she did manage it at last when pressed and reasoned with by Mrs. Williams, who was half annoyed, and seemed almost to think some apology was necessary. She has all Maori girls as servants, devotes a great deal of time to teaching them, and to teaching one class of girls to work, etc. Mr. W. has a number of boys in the garden something in the same way, Mr. Hadfield buys and grows a number of fruit trees to distribute, and they do extremely well, even at Motoa (the little place up the Manawatu) there was a wild standard peach tree growing at the edge of the bush and covered with blossom, and looking as wild as possible, though of course it had been planted, as they are not indigenous.

We took one day's rest, to rest our horses, at Otaki, after our expedition, and then left it with sorrow. Mr. Hadfield had some business in Wellington, and so, to our great satisfaction, he came down with us. We again found our beach road very long. The Waikanae river too was at high tide, so that we had to drag the carriage (partly under water) through backwoods, and unload it, to take the things across dry, in a canoe. Our principal luggage, it is true, was Arthur's tub, acting in concert with a bit of waterproof stuff, as a portmanteau; but then we carried besides, saddle bags, a gun, some Maori walking sticks, a large flax basket, given by Mrs. Martyn and filled with shells, a cannister of luncheon put in by Mr. Hadfield, and a kiwi, a wingless-bird, alive in a box; besides extra coats, plaids and blankets, which we were very glad of. The whole business delayed us about an hour. Then we had the long hill to climb up, page 113and there again found the evening too misty to get the distant view, though we had a beautiful gleam after a shower, just as we got to the top. Again we slept at Pawatenui, and had the state apartment. We had a very cold night there., quite thick ice on the water next morning, to the great detriment of a flock of little goslings, six of whom were killed, and another was found by Arthur so numb with cold that it couldn't walk; however, we warmed and revived it so well that the landlord made it a present to him. It took us seven hours to get home the twenty-one miles, walking up and down hills, which was a great chance for the gosling, who had got quite well, and enjoyed a little swim in a puddle at the roadside extremely; you can fancy Arthur's delight, and the number of times that it had to be peeped at, under all its warm coverings, to see that it was really alive, and "singing its little song". Next morning it was found dead in its bed (!) and as he says "its grave is to be seen in the garden".

Our kiwi was not much more successful. It was a most curious beast, with a head and whiskers like a rat, a long, long bill like a woodcock, but not so straight, coarse feathers, pointed and feeling like fur, legs like a miniature ostrich, and a short round body with make believe wings as big as a just born chicken's. I defy anyone to see it run without laughing, its head swaying from side to side at each stride, and a sort of abandon in its gait, that you see in some of the little figures with large heads in Punch running away from some monster. It was a night bird, and quite stupid in the day, could hardly see to eat its food, even worms and raw meat, and would run its head into any dark hole it could find. We had it for about a week and then one night it ran away, just after it had been fed, and we could never find it. It was very cross, and would scratch and peck anyone who came near it, but so very funny and odd looking that we were sorry to lose it.

We found all safe and well at Wellington, and met with a most agreeable surprise in our little walk down the town. We met the Post-Master who told us that our Mariner letters had all turned up, and insisted with, I may say, true Wellington good-nature, upon turning back with us nearly a mile, page 114and re-opening his office to give them to us, as the next day was Sunday. There is, of course, no penny-postman here, only when any ship comes in you go to the P.O. to see if it has brought you anything. Then came a very pleasant evening, as I need hardly say. Everybody so good about writing. I am very glad to hear of the going to London being all settled, and I shall hope, in the next ship, for a chapter on spring fashions from Louisa. She and Frances are both very good about writing lots of news, but they need not be afraid of repeating, for they are sure to tell things in different words that make quite variety enough; and how is Ruby? I wish that one of them would be so kind as to write just a few words, that a letter has come from N.Z., and that all are well, and Powles better than she was in England, to her sister, Mrs. May, 19 Elizabeth Terrace, King's Road, Chelsea. She has no time to write by this opportunity, as we are sending by the Hooghly, a chance ship, that has called here on its way to Sydney from Port Cooper, where she has been carrying cattle. Captain Mitchell bought all her cargo, 200 head of horned cattle, and has left them at his station there, quite across the plain, about fifty miles from Lyttelton, which he has chosen in hopes that its distance from the port, town, &c, will prevent its being chosen by any of the first comers. He has come up himself, and is gong on to Sydney and India, to be back (D.V.) in a year. I hope he will, for he is a capital colonist and very energetic and effective, as my husband says. Mr. Wodehouse is come up with him and Captain Thomas, who gives capital accounts of all the doings at Lyttelton. There are about sixty houses, but the workmen, etc., who make up the community there, are, I fear, a bad set enough, many of them convicts from Sydney, and instead of our life there being at all secluded, or lonely, I am afraid one of our greatest wants will be anything like privacy. The land about there is in great request just now; there is so little available, about the port, that if the settlement comes to anything, it must become very valuable. Captain Thomas was much pressed, the other day, to sell one quarter acre for £500. The Captain of a ship wanted it, engaging to spend £1,000 on an Hotel on it. The people page 115here are all full of it, and I think, if we could sell land on the spot, half Wellington would come and buy. I think my husband will be twice as well and happy when he is at some work again, for he has too much time here to think about how his throat is. He caught a cold at Otaki which threw him back again, in that respect, but he is himself very well and looking so, as everyone remarks. We go out walking now between six and seven which is the pleasantest part of the day, and Arthur and I take a little walk down to the sea to try which of us can throw stones the farthest. We are wondering how soon our Illustrated Newses will begin to come out, which we asked you to send us. Captain Stokes lent me his, with the Britannia bridge in it. He is back here again with his Acheron, owing to an accident he met with at Nelson; the assistant master and three men drowned, and a midshipman (a Mr. Paget, son of Ld. W. Paget), and three more only saved by miracle, from a boat capsizing in the swell there. He still says he will be back in a month to take us down, but I am afraid it will not answer, as we must travel with our goods, and every scrap of furniture, on our backs, as it would be very inconvenient to do without them, either here or there, and it would not do to carry our saucepans, etc., by one of Her Majesty's steamers.

We are going to-day to a pic-nic, given by Mrs. Petre and another lady, at a place about eight miles off, to about twenty of the élite of Wellington. Not however, Mr. and Mrs. Eyre; they have gone up the coast further than we did, riding with a light cart in attendance, with a tent, etc.; I don't know how they will get all this across the Manawatu, but we shall see. She was quite ill from fatigue when she got to Otaki, we hear, but recovered and went on. She is very delicate, I think.

I may ask you to send me out a silk gown of some rather dark, cheap kind; a made up skirt with flounces, if they are still to be had, would be thought beautiful here, and cannot be bought. I can get scrub gowns, but everything wears out so fast here with fading in the hot sun, and mud, and so much our-of-door work. I have asked for stockings and gloves, and now must ask if Pattison can furnish two pairs of thin boots, on my old last, but with wide ends, and page 116anything you like to send us, and will ask Tom Cocks to pay for, we shall be very grateful for.

I must stop. I have not time for the loads of love I would send, if I could, to everybody. Sara and the baby, I long to hear more of it; and everyone individually at home. Many thanks to William for his letter. Please to ask C. Pollen to read this instead of a special letter this time. She too is a Princess about writing, and now Goodbye, and God bless you one and all. Always my dear Mother.

Yours very affectionately,

Charlotte.

Wellington. October 23rd, 1850.

1 i.e. Aberglaslyn.