SHORTLAND TOWN BY NIGHT Evening News
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SHORTLAND TOWN BY NIGHT
Evening News
EVERYBODY (that is everybody in Auckland) has heard of Shortland Town. Has everybody seen it? As the latter is not likely may I attempt a description?
The 'diggings', despite their richness and despite their business --which does not appear to me to be slack--would not, of course, be of paramount importance elsewhere. But as they are undoubtedly of sufficient extent to revive, in a measure, the falling fortunes of the Province, they should possess a certain amount of interest here. What business is done in the township is mostly done at night, and the manner in which capital is interchanged about the present time deserves notice. Four diggers--improved by a little liquor--taking the air in a 'trap' about Auckland on Monday did seem to contrast favourably of the chances on the goldfields. The appearance of Shortland town itself, however, in sober earnest, argues much more. In the words of most hotel and storekeepers, 'things are quiet'. As a tolerably old hand on 'rushes' I may express an opinion to the effect that things are much more brisk than they have been in Auckland for many a day. The streets are a vast improvement on the streets of some months ago. Where I breakfasted economically on a box of sardines and a pint of beer, I can now dine well and cheaply on the food of civilisation. Jim hails Joe a couple of hundred yards off and insists--despite the protestations of Joe 'that he has had a skinful'--on taking another drink. Bell-men pervade the thoroughfares and announce various entertainments, from a public meeting to a theatrical performance. As I write, four mates, decent fellows, come in for a feed, and hospitably invite the various friends who shake hands with them to 'peg away'. And yet there is no rowdiness. There may be the exuberance of spirits which naturally affects a man when he is making a very good living, for the first time perhaps for a long period. But drunkards are few and far between--all things considered--and, manifold temptations taken into account, everyone is very steady. The storekeepers are not as busy as the people who drive a single trade. Once a week is the time for going to the grocer's, and therefore, they may do enough on Saturdays for the rest of the week. But boots wear out, meat is eaten, and hair grow long, hats fill with holes, and a bottle comes to an end every day. Therefore, I suppose it is that the bootmakers are in excruciating attitudes, pulling endless strings, that the butchers, 'each and the people's friend' are performing anatomical feats in steak cutting, that the barbers are doing wonders in the way of easy shaving and genteel haircutting,
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that hats of various shapes are purchased, and that black bottles are taken to the tent, affectionately, under the arm. The staff of life has been omitted--labelled everywhere 'five pence the loaf' but even this seems to be in sufficient demand. The sound of the harp, sacbut, psaltery, dulcimer, and all kinds of music is prevalent. That is to say fiddles, cornet-a-pistons, and trombones are performing lively airs in dancing saloons. On the authority of the bellman, I may state that there is a really magnificent performance at the theatre; the privileges of the Press not being recognised, I cannot speak from experience on this matter. It would be gross exaggeration to assert that the Maoris are reduced to poverty in this portion of New Zealand. In a state of sobriety they offer many articles of food for sale. Yielding a little to the seductions of waipera [waipiro] they indulge in occasional playful though frantic gestures, and in untranslateable language. We cannot expect all Maoris to be patterns; and the vast majority are driving a steady trade, making the living of the pakeha cheap, and are themselves behaving quite as well as, if not better than, many Europeans. There need be no doubt on the matter: most people in business are doing more than well in Shortland Town. When two or three hotels are over-crowded, when most shops are getting along steadily, trade must be pretty lively. All cannot do well. Counters out of the thick of the township will not have an overplus of customers; every digger does not hit gold. That there are plenty of shopkeepers making money at the Thames, plenty of miners making more than 'tucker', any one who sees the streets by night, and watches money changing hands, will affirm. There is a briskness and an amount of ready cash, to which the dulness and 'tick' of Auckland present a strong contrast. In the moonlight two or three places of worship shine conspicuously. The Bank of New Zealand has a good looking building for its branch, and gold is coming in to it freely. Odd corners of stores are boarded off, and labelled with the names of solicitors; mining agencies are carried on in extremely limited spaces. Of the large number of people in the streets few, comparatively, wear the aspect of 'loafers'; many jingle silver in their trousers pockets. One very good sign of the times is, that already all here have an absolute direct interest in the success of the miners. Employers and employed have shares in claims; proprietors and potboys in different degrees are contributing to the working of some claims, which they expect will produce them fortunes, or are drawing dividends from good 'crushings'. Altogether, the place is a vast relief from the 'general depression' of Auckland--which, however, must soon feel the beneficial effects of its proximity to this thriving goldfield.
