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The Spike: or, Victoria College Review, September 1926

Good Advice from Invercargill

page 8

Good Advice from Invercargill


Dear Spike,—

Thanks for your request for a contribution. I have been sitting, this wonderful spring morning, in an old-fashioned garden, hoping—but in vain—for the Muse to sing again after years of silence. Suspicions of colour can be felt in the English trees, the pussy-willow is a-hum with bees, and the silver poplars shower a cascade of tassels behind. There is a yellow blaze of daffodils on the sward below, terminating in a vasty sweep of rhododendrons, where precocious red buds are dotted here and there. Beyond, the cedar holds its ever-drooping leaves, the tall Lawsonianas sway their fern-like branches, and the clouds drift slowly past the background of pines. For the moment the world of mortgages and probates and writs is a thing apart.

There are many great joys of which I could write you—of the bivouac on the Hump, watching the sun rise over a sea of mist, with the Princess Mountains towering in pink glory above the whiteness; of a week's camping in the glades of Manapouri; of the mosses and lichens of the fairy-like track to Doubtful Sound; of the long arms of Te Anau; of the Milford track, with its miles of cascades, towering peaks, and rumbling glaciers; and of the mirrored waters of Milford and the greenstone of Anita Bay. But without the leisure I cannot do it justice, and can only advise your readers to come and tarry awhile in this beauty spot of New Zealand.

Yours, with happy memories of V.U.C.,

F. G. Hall-Jones.