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Chapter III.

Ever charming, ever new,
When will the landscape tire the view?
The fountain’s fall, the river’s flow,
The woody valleys warm and low,
The windy summit wild and high,
Roughly rushing on the sky.—Dyer.

Ascending the steep range on the Porirua road, we had some splendid views of the bay. The little farms and clearings which are scattered here and there on each side add much to the beauty of the country. Arrived at Porirua harbour, we followed the shore up to the barracks, where a singular occurrence is said to have taken place during the late heavy earthquake: the ground on which the building (which is of brick) stands opened, dividing it into two parts, and immediately reclosed, leaving the line of fracture scarcely visible; the building remains to this day. Soon after leaving Porirua we entered the Horikeva valley, which is well known on account of the catastrophe which occurred within it. A company of the regiment which was stationed in Wellington at the time were marching through with their bright red coats and arms glistening in the sun, when an ambuscade of natives fired into them and completely cut them up, while, from the nature of the ground, scarcely a Maorie was killed. The track along the valley is very narrow, so that only two could walk abreast, and on each side rises a steep hill thickly timbered, from the slopes of which the natives picked off the soldiers one by one, whilst the latter could not distinguish their antagonists’ dusky forms from the trees behind which they were sheltered. Only four or five of the soldiers escaped to tell the tale.

At the extreme end of the valley we ascended a steep hill, from whence we obtained a fine view of Cook’s Straits, and about fifty miles along the coast, towards Whanganui: as far as the eye can reach nothing is seen but a succession of sandy plains, with now and then a patch of green, out of which, a short distance inland, the page 22 mountains start up covered with fine timber. On going down to the beach we found ourselves at Pikakareke, a native settlement. There a man, known as Scotch Jock, keeps a house of entertainment for “man and beast,” of which we gladly took advantage. Our course now lay along the coast. Here are beautiful sands, extending for more than forty miles, as hard and firm as those at Deal. After dark we arrived at Wikeni, and wandered about uncertain where to find the house we were to pass the night at, with a foaming river on one side and a swamp on the other. “I guess we were in a pretty considerable fix” for two or three hours, when we were surprised at the apparition of five white men, travellers like ourselves, but they knew the way, and we were all soon doing ample justice to the mortal remains of a native—pig. The house was so small that we had to lie in all sorts of places and positions, as we best could; as for beds, I don’t think they had even heard of such things. The house was what is called a toi-toi whare;^* the toi-toi is a reed which the natives use for the walls and roofs of their huts; these reeds are plaited together with flax; inside this is a lining of tapestry, worked entirely out of flax. The New Zealanders will build a house in this manner for a white man for five pounds. In the morning we walked to the river Ohou, where we stopped several days. Here there is a strip of land fit for cultivation, running inland on each side of the river. The natives grow a great number of peaches, and sell them for sixpence per bushel, but they are not equal in flavour to the English, because they are gathered before they are ripe; nevertheless, they make very nice preserves. Whilst here we were joined by the two H . . ls, our fellow-boarders from Wellington. They were going to Whanganui, so we all next day travelled together.

The sandy plains and hills were occasionally relieved by a patch of verdure. At noon we arrived at the Manawatu river. Like most other rivers in New Zealand it has a bar at its mouth, which makes it a dangerous harbour; we were paddled across in a canoe, got some refreshment at a Maorie whare, and again resumed our page 23 march, travelling along the sands. At sunset we reached Rangitikei. The “house of call” was here situated on the opposite side of the river, and we had much difficulty in making ourselves heard. At last Scott, the landlord, came over and ferried us across to his house, which is the best bush inn in New Zealand—containing six or seven good-sized rooms with glass windows.

We stopped here for the night, and then went on up the river to a station belonging to Mr. H…..n, managed by his overseer, Mr. McDonnel. We dined with him, and continued our march along the river. The land is very flat and swampy towards the mouth, but travelling up you gradually get into a hilly and welltimbered country. In our course we disturbed hundreds of wild ducks and pigs. Hunting the wild boar is one of the principal sports of the country, but is very dangerous, as the wound caused by a gore generally mortifies. I once heard of a man being chased for three miles, and only then escaping by climbing a tree, where he waited till the boar made off at daylight. The sport is followed with two heavy-built dogs (between a bulldog and a mastiff), until a wild boar is brought to bay against a tree, when the dogs approach cautiously on both sides and seize him by each ear; now the hunter rushes up and sticks the animal in the neck with a long hunting knife: the dogs frequently get killed. This sport is the best the country affords. Towards dusk we arrived at Handy Green’s “cabaret,” where we found three drunken sawyers, just come down from the bush to spend their money, helping themselves to what they liked best, without at all consulting Mr. Green, who submitted with a very bad grace; his wife, however, who was the better man of the two, rated them soundly. After supper we retired, scarcely hoping to get any rest; the musquitoes were very numerous, and the noise made by the drunken sawyers entirely dispelled sleep.

When we arose in the morning the ceiling was literally black with musquitoes; they are very similar in appearance to the common gnat. Just as you are settling to sleep, one comes buzzing round your head, and, when you think you have driven him away, page 24 he is hard at work sticking his poisonous proboscis into your flesh, which swells up and sometimes proves very serious when the blood is not in a healthy state. The house being tolerably quiet, we had breakfast, after which we walked on, still following the river, to Captain D……’s station, which is one of the best in the neighbourhood, having sufficient timbered land and a large open plain covered with good feed. We stopped here all night, as it was too far to go on to Turakina before nightfall, so H . . 1 and I got into a canoe, which was fast to the bank, and paddled across to the Maorie pah, which stood on the other side of the river. I no sooner jumped ashore than two fat old native women flung their arms round my neck, no doubt trying to imitate the white man’s greeting; fortunately I succeeded in dislodging them, after trying other means in vain, by a gentle punch in the ribs. This pah is situated on the bank of the river. All the young men had gone out pig-hunting, and in the afternoon we saw them return, each man carrying a quarter of the animal on his shoulder, with the bright red blood trailing down his tawny back.

Returning to Captain D……’s station, we were just in time to see his men bailing up some cattle; i. e. the cow is made to put her head between two posts, when a bar slides across the space and catches her by the neck, rendering it impossible to get her head back. A slip knot is then fastened to one of her hind legs, which is drawn up tight in a horizontal position to a strong post. She is then milked with safety.

Next morning we started early, but had not proceeded far before we lost the track, and walked about twenty miles, through long grass, fern, and toi-toi, taking it in turns to be leader; the first man had to lie down every few steps to force a passage through the tangled mass. Suddenly we came on a white man, when H . . l’s dog sprang at him; fortunately he caught the animal on his leg, and flung it several yards. He directed us to a station, where we refreshed ourselves, and then walked on to Turakina.

We stopped for the night at Mr. W … . n’s station, page 25 Kept by his overseer, Mr. McGregor. We found the house quite a mansion for the bush, containing seven or eight good-sized rooms, lighted with glass windows, which are uncommon up the country, owing to the difficulty of carriage. He has some excellent paddocks fenced in. The run is bounded on one side by the Turakina river, on the other three by a good post-and-rail fence. The sheep require but little looking after, as they cannot get over the boundary. Next day we took our leave and waded the river. The country is well timbered between this and Whanganui. We reached the latter place towards evening. Before you enter the town you pass the house of Mr. Taylor, the missionary. It stands on a nice plot of grass-land, surrounded by a garden, where all the plants and shrubs that grow in England flourish—they are cherished by most of the colonists as a memorial of the mother country.

The missionaries, notwithstanding all the accounts which are sent home of their hardships, lead a comfortable life; most of them are married, and with a wife and family around them, and nearly every luxury that England can boast, they cannot be very unhappy.

The town has a neat appearance, not unlike the old English style. The barracks and inn are built with the upper rooms projecting; again over that a gable juts out. They stand on a hill overlooking the town.

The natives here about are very numerous, and are considered the wildest in the colony. They have a large war pah, and some of the chiefs’ whares are enriched with elaborate carvings, consisting of scrolls and figures of men and animals.

The pah is surrounded by a fence of logs, let into the ground close together: this is done in case of war. The corner and entrance posts are decorated with grotesque and hideous figures of men devouring children—some with their tongues lolling out, and others with their knees drawn up to their chins—and daubed over with very bright colours, for the purpose of frightening the enemy.

The women are handsomer than those in the south island; but as the men make them carry everything page 26 in travelling, fetch wood, and do all the drudgery, they soon lose their shape, and become wrinkled and doubled up.

During the freshes, which occur after heavy rains, the natives come down the river in their canoes by hundreds to see their friends. The river has a good harbour. Whanganui, since I left, has been made a port of entry; and part of the regiment being stationed there makes trade better in the town. The surrounding land is generally very poor. A small depth of soil brings you to pumice-stone, much used for building chimneys to the wooden houses. This curious stone floats down the rivers and creeks in large masses, and frequently deceives new comers, who, imagining it to be a firm rock, congratulate themselves on having found out a spot where they can cross the creek without getting wet; when they step upon it, however, it yields, and they are immersed up to their necks in water. The pumice-stone draws all the moisture from the soil, and renders it of but little use for agricultural purposes. The land is worth here from ten to twenty shillings per acre. Another great evil is the immense number of rats, which destroy corn and everything eatable. They are almost a match for a cat; in fact, I have known six cats turned out of a house by them in a single night. At the same house one of my companions missed a woollen stocking on rising in the morning; after a long search, a small portion of it was found sticking out of a rat’s hole in the corner of the room. The officers of the garrison amuse themselves, when indulging in bed in the morning, by practising pistol-shooting on them. They can fancy them to be Maories, by a little stretch of imagination, and practise bush-fighting from behind the bedposts.

Farming here is preposterous. If you buy timbered land, at the price before mentioned, it costs you twenty pounds per acre to clear it. Fern and flax land is also expensive to get into working order; add to this, the suppy of corn, &c., required is small, and the natives grow all kinds of grain and vegetables cheaper than the white man can, because their land and living cost page 27 them nothing. Neither do cattle-stations pay well. The price of heifers is about seven pounds per head, which in a few years, by increase and importation, will be much reduced. It is also a long time before cattle yield any return. Sheep pay well, as the wool will never decrease much in value—the increase averages about seventy-five per cent. per annum. A settler will generally take sheep on thirds; that is, he takes the sheep on his run, and attends to them, finding labour: the party to whom the sheep belong gives him annually onethird of the increase and half the wool, besides paying for material for dressing in case of scab, &c., The fleece of a hundred sheep is worth about fifteen pounds a year. It requires a capital of five or six hundred pounds to commence. You pay government ten pounds per annum for your run, and a proviso is made that you must have at least five hundred sheep on it at the expiration of six months.

We did not stay long at Whanganui, and returning made a slight diversion from the usual track to visit Otaki, which is considered the finest native town in the country. It is picturesquely situated in a charming valley, interspersed with clumps of the most varied and beautiful trees, a small stream of water running through it. Two quaint bridges connect the town; and the neat little whares of the natives, with the mission-house, church, parsonage, and schools, contribute to render the place a little paradise. The mission-house and church have been entirely constructed by the natives, superintended by a white man, and shew a good deal of ingenuity. The church is quite original, being about sixty feet in length by thirty feet, and twenty feet in height to the bearings of the rafters; the sides and ends are lined with panels of plaited flax, separated by stout planks, painted Indian red and ornamented with white scrollwork—these are continued as high as the ridge-pole. The ridge is supported by a row of huge pillars, formed of single trees, also painted red; this divides the church into two aisles. The pulpit and altar-rails are elaborately carved. After leaving the church we went over the mission-house, which is built of wood, two stories high; page 28 the framing and roof are good, and the floor is well laid, and altogether the house presents a very neat appearance. When the reader considers that this, together with the church, &c., was built by the aborigines, under the superintendence of one man, he will agree with me that they are apt to learn. The missionaries teach the natives the rudiments of education, farming, and general useful labour. Both the Catholic and Protestant missionaries have done much towards bringing the natives into a state of civilization, and I must say the Catholic missionaries are generally the more hospitable of the two, an instance of which I will give by and by.

On leaving the town we soon came to the Otaki. Here it was necessary to ford the river, which is extremely rapid. Fortunately an old native man and woman were in the way, who soon transported us to the other side, high and dry, when our eyes were dazzled by the apparition of a very pretty Maorie girl, more resembling a Spanish beauty than a savage. Her complexion was clear and transparent, with dark sparkling eyes, veiled by hair black as jet, which floated in wavy masses around her well-formed shoulders; her olive features were set off by teeth of surpassing whiteness, while her loose dress, unconfined at the waist and falling just below the knee, served to shew her symmetrical form to great advantage. Pointing to a wedding-ring, she told us, with a pride she could not conceal, that she was married to a white man. The native women are extremely proud of having a white husband. A few days’ retracing our steps brought us to Wellington, where we once more put up at Mrs. Edwards’ select boarding establishment. My brother, finding no opening for an architect in New Zealand, as the buildings were not of sufficient extent to require a professional man, resolved to try Sydney.