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Taranaki: A Tale of the War

Chapter II

page 11

Chapter II.

“There lies a vale in Ida, lovelier
Than all the valleys of Ionian hills;
The swimming vapour slopes athwart the glen,
Puts forth an arm, and creeps from pine to pine,
And loiters, slowly drawn. On either hand,
The lawns and meadow ledges, midway down,
Hang rich in flowers; and far below them roars
The long brook, falling thro' the clov'n ravine
In cataract after cataract to the sea.”

Tennyson.

Our story opens in the month of August, 1859, some eight months previous to the first act of hostilities with the Natives. Within a few miles of the Town of New Plymouth, there is a winding stream leading through a deep ravine for several miles from the foot of the mountain range of Egmont to the sea. This stream, known as “Matu Taku,” winds through a valley of the most romantic scenery.

Along its borders, and in the glens and lawns, or valleys, formed in its tortuous course, were several of the more wealthy settlers located, whose homes, for the most part, were picturesquely built on some jutting eminence above the dell, or on the brink of the bush that clothed its precipitous sides.

In a corner overlooking one of the most charming scenes on this river, with an extended plateau of level page 12 land reaching down to the sea, was situated the then happy homestead of Mr. Wellman, who had emigrated to the Colony some ten years previously, and purchased a large tract of land in and around the locality in which his home was built, which, though as a matter of course, in that early stage of the Colony's existence, was not of any great pretensions to architectural beauty, was, nevertheless, a handsome, comfortable two-storied house in cottage style, with a deep verandah encircling it, and a luxuriant and blooming flower and fruit garden, at the time we write, surrounding it.

Such was the appearance of Glenfairy in the month of August, 1859. The interior of this happy home was complete in every requisite that comfort and good taste could dictate. The proprietor and his estimable lady were of that class of English gentry noted for that homely taste no where found so correct, or in better order than in England; to these, were added, certain little luxurious refinements, ever to be found where ladies' tastes predominate, and Mr. Wellman was too good a husband and fond a father, not to indulge a loving wife and daughters in those little extras so much derived from their taste and care. In a front room of modern dimensions, and adorned as the above description portrays, sat two young ladies, one afternoon in August, the time our tale opens, Fanny and Louisa Wellman, the sisters of Glenfairy, as they were generally spoken of. Fanny, the eldest, had reached her twentieth year, and, though to the casual observer, she might not realize the perfection of poetic page 13 imagination as to personal beauty, there was a grace and elegance in her carriage and movements, and a sweet smile ever giving lustre to her soft blue eyes, under the dark fringed eyelash and perfectly arched eyebrow, that could not fail to strike the beholder as something pure and lovely. There was a depth of feeling in the fine forchead, partly concealed beneath the simple braid of light brown hair, which, with the general contour of her regular features, told of one to be deeply truly loved, of superior mind and sweetness of disposition. Her sister, Louisa, had decidedly the advantage as the beauty of face, but it lacked the sweet expression that betrayed the refined and gentle spirit of the elder. She, however, was but fourteen, and had not as yet the advantages and experiences that Fanny had so evidently benefited from, though, indeed, both seemed occupied in attaining such ends; for, whilst Louisa pored over a French book, Fanny was employed on a piece of elaborate embroidery, and was the first to speak.

“Dear Lou., is not that tiresome book yet finished? and will you not come for a walk with me to meet Mary St. Pierre, who, you know, promised to come to Glenfairy to-day?”

Louisa, closing her book cheerfully, rose, and kissing her sister, said, “Dearest Fanny, I am your devoted slave; come, let us go. Mamma I see already awaits us in the garden.”

The becoming little hats and feathers, and neat cloaks, were soon donned, and the girls joined their page 14 mother, a lady of quiet and endearing manner, though, to strangers, seeming proud and reserved, which soon thawed off under her real kind nature. She was much loved by all who knew her, though from the reserve and quiet manner natural to her, she seldom mixed with her neighbours. A pleased and happy smile greeted the fair sisters.

“I have been, whilst waiting for you, my children, enjoying a little quiet thought in viewing our beautiful gardens and the pretty view of our fertile fields; how grateful and happy we should be after all our wanderings to have so sweet a home in so healthy a clime. We owe much, my dear children to the all bountiful Giver: may you never forget His mercies, or his His ever-watchful care, nor cease to love, fear, and trust in Him when the hour of trial comes—which, alas, must come as our lot in life.”

Alas! the year had not revolved before the sisters had reason to recal this advice from her they loved and honoured so much.

Leaving the garden they descended by a bush road down the glen, under which their cottage was built; the fresh breezes of opening spring wafted a sweet perfume from the new spring buds of the musk and acacia trees around them.

As they proceeded, a lovely valley opened to their view, an oblong lawn in the ravine, round which the mountain stream meandered, forming a beautiful oasis in the midst of the thickly planted bush and more lofty trees inland, that covered the hills round it.

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The joyous voice of Louisa was first heard as they emerged on its margin. “Oh! dearest mamma, what a lovely spot for a pic-nic! let us hail the spring time here with our friends.” Fanny eagerly joined in the petition, which with a smile was assented to, and the three happy hearts were soon engaged in the details of the plans for their rural fěte, which for some time previously, had, if the truth were known, been in contemplation by Mr. and Mrs. Wellman. The plan being satisfactorily arranged, they proceeded to ascend the gorge on the hillside to the road that led through the village towards the grounds of “The Retreat,” to meet Miss St. Pierre. She being the only daughter of a widowed father, was idolized in her home, and under the care of a maiden sister known in the neighbourhood as the good Aunt Dorothy, had grown up a sweet girl of much promise and beauty; but just now she is coming over yon hill on a Shetland pony, all alone, singing snatches of song as she merrily canters on. Let us pause a moment to describe her. Though shorter in stature than Fanny Wellman, and not possessing her grace of figure and deportment, she was of exceeding beauty, a fair child of Northern origin. Her bright, fair hair fell in rich profusion over her neck, fair as virgin snow, and her laughing blue eye, added to the contour of a perfect face, and the blush of her cheeks, a small but determined looking mouth, pearly teeth, and dimpled chin, made her seize you at once, enthralled by her merry laugh; still there was not that deep soft page 16 look of our heroine, or that sweet expression that formed the chief attraction and enchantment, with the grace and elegance so natural to Fanny Wellman, they were sworn friends, but the gay and lively Mary looked up to and adored the deep-feeling Fanny. With the spirit and manner of the fawn, as she approached our pedestrians she sprang off her pony and turning him lose on his homeward path, gaily rushing forward embraced her friends.

“Oh, how happy I am to meet you! I have such news to tell: the boys are all at home and cousin Herbert is coming, and papa is to give a fěte, and Aunt Dorothy is so busy, and—and—”

Thus she merrily spoke, as if her heart was too full to give utterance to all, and pausing a moment at her own excitement, her merry laugh joined in by her friends rang over the silent dell, as they now turned their steps towards the village to prolong their walk by a detour to Glenfairy, they happily discussed the arrangement for their parties, which was the custom of the settlers every season as it commenced, in this happy district. Mr. St. Pierre the largest landed proprietor in the Province, had settled in this neighbourhood with his father-in-law some years previously; both were devoted to agricultural pursuits, and Mr. Dickson had, at a considerable outlay, imported, not only the best and most valuable breed of cattle and horses, but also innumerable plants and shrubs with which his splendid gardens were richly stocked; his page 17 place “The Mount” was appropriately situated above the Retreat on a plateau of rich pasture land which he had reclaimed from the bush, and was the most picturesque spot in the country, commanding a splendid view of all places round, the winding glades and deep ravines, the many clearings scattered over the plains beneath, and the distant sea. In a wide, extensive amphitheatre under this plateau was the Retreat; the clearing round within the semicircle was of considerable extent and laid out with the greatest care and taste, the border, on the hill-side running three parts round, was clothed with the luxuriant wild bush spots of clearing, were traced here and there where the ascent was more inclined, and above all was seen the rushing stream in a succession of waterfalls winding to the dale, thus forming the brightest ornament of the three places; issuing first from the mountain gorge, it sluggishly passed through the plateau of the Mount, then in devious courses through the plain, increased by two smaller streams from other ravines, it sped over the decline to the glade of the Retreat, half encircling it and passing through the centre of the Village, now, indeed, of only three or four scattered houses, it wound through the dell of Glenfairy, forming the island before mentioned, when with deeper stream it sought the sea a mile below. Most assuredly Nature had adorned this beauteous region with lavish hand, and now art, taste, skill, and capital, had rendered it almost perfect as to situation and clime; not less so was the comfort and happiness of its page 18 inhabitants, but the hand of the rude spoiler came and “the peace of the valley was broken”; but why should we forestall events too soon? alas, too soon! The day of sorrow comes, let us not, therefore, anticipate evil.