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The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 80a

The Trip

The Trip.

Gilbert tells us that "A policeman's lot is not a happy one." And what about a Premier's existence? It is only those who have been in political power who can appreciate the troubles and difficulties which a Minister of the Crown has to contend with. All sorts and conditions of men— page 3 yes, and women—have their grievances; and a man requires the "patience of Job" to satisfy a tithe of the requirements of interviewers—their name is legion. Verily, many persons prefer their claims upon the Government of the day. People of all shades of political colour labour under the hallucination that the sole business of the Government is to provide for their wants. When the Premier (Hon. R. J. Seddon), the Hon. J. Carroll, with their Private Secretary and special correspondent, started on their tour through the Native districts of the North Island, it was only to be expected that they would be met with deputations in all the business centres en route. But it was not only in the big centres, but also in the small ones, that the Premier and party were welcomed.

According to the special reporter of the New Zealand Mail,—

"There were crowds of people at all the wayside stations between Palmerston and Mangaonoho on the lookout for an interview.

"At Halcombe, or thereabouts, the Crown Lands Commissioner of Wellington, Mr. Baker, cropped up. He had heard that Mr. Seddon had arranged to proceed from Pipiriki by canoe to Taumarunui, and he thought it but right to let him know it would be expedient to make the trip overland rather than by the river, as the journey by this latter route was beset with difficulties, and would occupy some four or five days. Mr. Baker was thanked for his information and went on his way.

"Mangaonoho, the present terminus of the railway (and likely to remain so for some years to come), was reached at half-past nine, and a 'bus of rather primitive design, with four horses harnessed to it, was in waiting to convey the party to Ohingaiti. It was a moonless night, but by the fitful gleam of the stars the visitors were able to dimly discern the lay of the country—the Rangitikei River far down below the serpentine curves of the road, further on the Makohine Gorge (where a viaduct 240ft. high is to be constructed), and hard by it the landslip which engulphed a where with its occupants not long since. Ohingaiti was reached at ten o'clock, and the travellers found at host Meehan's hotel all the comforts that might be expected even in a metropolitan hostelry.

"Ohingaiti has garnered up quite a collection of good stories, derived from its prelicensing days, when sly-grog selling was safe. Take a sample lot: An enterprising 'shebeenist' sent away for a case of whiskey, but the trouble was how to get it to the settlement without exciting suspicion. Mother-wit come to his rescue, and helped him over the stile. At the railway-station where he was to take delivery he noticed a case containing Government stores for Ohingaiti, and bearing the Public Works Office label. In a trice the label was shifted from the case of stores to the case of whiskey, and upon a Government trolly in care of Government employés the case of whiskey was unsuspectingly borne into the district. Once there, however, it mysteriously disappeared; but the shebeen drove a roaring trade for the next few days.

"In another instance the sly-grog seller received the 'straight tip' that the police were planning a raid. There was a spring close by, and into it eighteen bottles of whiskey were quietly stowed away. This accounts for the streak of luck which befell a couple of teamsters next morning. They took a bucket to the spring to water their horses, the bucket collided with one of the bottles, and the teamster, plunging in his hand, dragged forth a bottle of Walker's 'Kilmarnock.' In fact, he did not stop until he fished out eighteen bottles. For about a week fast and furious was the, pace on the road to Moawhango, and the news spread far and wide how well teamsters So-and-so had done out of their contract, and how generously they had stood drinks of whiskey for all and sundry whom they met."

The special correspondent also tells several other good stories relating to the trip. There is a place rejoicing in the euphonious name of Moawhango. The Natives here desired that it should be proclaimed a township, but the greatest wish of their hearts was that the Government should appoint a policeman to superintend the morals of the place. In many of our European communities the policeman is voted a bore and a nuisance, for, to quote Gilbert again, he interferes with the "enterprising burglar" when he "goes a-burgling"; but the Maoris have a better sense of the fitness of things, and according to our special reporter the Premier made the following remarks anent the appointment of a constable:—

"Then they wanted a policeman. But before the policeman came there must be a police-station and a lock-up, and the Government had neither land in the place nor a house in which to put the policeman. He could not be put into a tent, and if the prisoners were put into a tent they would soon make tracks. Were they prepared to give the Government a piece of land upon which to put up a station, and were they disposed to contribute towards the expense of putting it up? Or should he say that if they gave the site the Government would put up the station? They could consider this matter, and let him have their answer when they came to a decision. At present he believed there was a district constable. However, if they had a place for the policeman and a lockup for the prisoners he would send the policeman along next week. They could hardly expect their prisoners to behave as did the prisoners in the early days of Dunedin. Those prisoners, it is alleged, used to be regularly liberated each morning to amuse themselves as they pleased all day. A bell rang in the evening to let them know that the gaol was going to be locked up for the night. Then there would be great commotion amongst the prisoners. They would say to one another, 'There goes the bell; if we don't hurry up we shall be locked out for the night.' (Laughter amongst the Natives.)"

page 4

Civilisation goes "marching on," and the swarthy inhabitants of Moawhango require a telephone. The Maoris are essentially a business people, and this fact seems very contradictory to their poetic character, for the business man and the poet seldom run together. Marcus Clarke was not much of a poet, but he was a literary genius, and a few remarks of his on "business men" may not be out of place; "They are the cream of the social bowl—in their own estimation; the stone pillars which, according to the Arabic legend, hold the earth up. There never was, or can be, anything to equal them. You may be the best fellow in the world, the sole supporter of an aged mother, and the protector of a whole boarding-school full of orphan sisters; you may work like a horse, and give all your goods to feed the poor; but if you are not a business man you are sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal. To be a business man is a special gift, a sort of inherent nature, like a cast in the eye. If you are a business man you will succeed in business—that is to say, you will be a good husband, a good father, a conscientious Christian, always vote with the Government, and when you die will go straight to heaven. If you are a business man people will 'shout' for you, the papers will write you up, and your friends will give you prayer-books with gilt edges."

"Mr. Seddon went on to say he was surprised to find that the Natives wanted the telephone brought to Moawhango. He looked upon this request as having been inspired by the Europeans. In this case they were getting the Natives to pull the chestnuts out of the fire for them. When the land question was settled, and when, as a consequence, they had a large population settled in the district, it would be time enough to talk of the telephone and the telegraph.

"Another luxury that was asked for was a hotel. Now, this request spoilt everything else on the list. (Laughter.) He was surprised that in a place like that, so far from Hunterville, they could have got to know that such a thing as a hotel existed. (More laughter.) In fact he had thought waipiro could never have been brought so far inland. (Renewed laughter.) It was really strange that in the absence of a bridge across the river any one would take the trouble to cart up waipiro. (Great laughter.) When the Rev. Mr. Isitt, the temperance lecturer, read in the paper that the Natives were requesting the Government to establish a special licensing district among them he would not be surprised to hear that he would shortly visit Moawhango. In fact he (Mr. Seddon) would recommend him to come at once—the sooner the better, so that he might show them that what they really wanted was a temperance lecturer to teach them to drink cold water. He himself would much prefer that there should never be a publichouse in the district.

"The Premier went on to point the moral, and adorn it with a tale. Once upon a time there was a miners' camp on the West Coast where the waipiro had run out. The miners took to drinking Painkiller, and soon finished this. As a last resort one of them laid siege to Jacob's Oil, and this finished him. At this there was great laughter from the Maoris, and they all directed their gaze upon one of their number, who sheepishly hung his head. It appeared that the Premier had scored off a Native sly-grog seller without knowing it. This Native's name was Jacob, and his compatriots took the allusion to the deadly properties of St. Jacob's Oil to apply to Jacob's whiskey."

That the Maoris were much happier in their primitive state must be apparent to every thoughtful observer. The scientific inventions of the age are very well in their way, but, to one who thinks at all. Max Adeler's observation on the happiest way to live must carry weight: "It has always seemed to me that village life is the happiest and most comfortable, and that the busy city man who would establish his home where he can have repose without inconvenience and discomfort should place it amid the trees and flowers and by the grassy highway of some pretty hamlet, where the noise of the world's greater commerce never comes, and where isolation and companionship are both possible without an effort. Such a home, planted judiciously in a half-acre, where children can romp and play, and where one can cultivate a few flowers and vegetables, mingling the sentimental heliotrope with the practical cabbage, and the ornamental verbena with the useful onion, may be made an earthly paradise."