II. FIRST DIFFICULTIES.
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II.
FIRST DIFFICULTIES.
THE real difficulties of emigrant life do not always occur at the same time and place in different individuals. There is nothing so difficult to foretell as the life of an emigrant; he may be a drudge and a grumbler all his days, or he may be the prime minister of a prosperous colony in ten years. He may land with five shillings in 1848, and die worth £25,000 in 1862, and vice versa. Emigration is a powerful test of the capacities of men, and it is equally severe in testing the character. On receiving the offer of a free passage for myself and family, I was requested to give an immediate answer. I was not long in making up my mind. I accepted the valuable offer, believing that in doing so I was consulting the real good of my family. As soon as my relatives became acquainted with my resolution they endeavoured to dissuade me from emigrating. Even my wife, who at first, had been passive in the matter, now became an active opponent, and sought to enlist my minister, the Rev. Dr. D-----, in the opposing ranks, but the utmost he would consent to do in the matter was to withhold a certificate of character, believing that would give a temporary check. Opposition was of no avail; the Rubicon had been passed, and I felt it impossible to draw back. And now, after the lapse of twenty-six years of emigrant life, I can honestly say that the
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greatest difficulty I ever experienced was breaking away from the loving hearts of a father's home. Never can I forget the last look I had from the steamer, as she bore me away from home and kindred and the place of my birth. On nearing the bar I saw a family group standing at the end of the pier, to have a last look of the son and brother. I stood aloof from the rest of the passengers, and waved my hand. My brother and sister instantly recognised me and waved their handkerchiefs. My aged father (threescore and ten) saw me, and lifted his hat and waved it very sorrowfully, while I beheld his white locks fluttering in the breeze. At last I saw him wipe the tears from his eyes and turn away. I have never seen a scene like that again. Had it been possible, I would have followed him. He never expected to see me again, and, considering his years, all hope was taken from me. Yet we were both mistaken. Ten years later I recrossed that bar on one of the London steamers (not as a steerage passenger), and again waved my hat to the same family group. I embraced both parents, and the old people blessed the day I sailed for New Zealand; and I assure the reader I have no cause to regret it myself; but on looking back to my first day of emigrant life, I unhesitatingly affirm that it was the only difficulty I ever had, and my experience is that of thousands now resident in New Zealand.
