1877 - Pratt, W. T. Colonial Experiences - CHAPTER V: HARD LINES.

       
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  1877 - Pratt, W. T. Colonial Experiences - CHAPTER V: HARD LINES.
 
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CHAPTER V: HARD LINES.

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CHAPTER V.

HARD LINES.

AT the time I came upon the scene the large timber had been felled, cross-cut and cleared off. and the work requiring to be done was the same I had been for some time engaged at, namely, all the roots to be grubbed up, large and small, large ones to be cut close to the stumps, closer indeed than I had cut my own, which involved an immense amount of chopping and levering, as the roots of New Zealand trees are mostly on or near the surface, are very large near the stumps, and radiate all round for a great distance, especially the white pine, and this bush was chiefly of this kind of timber. The price offered for this work was 7 1/2d. the rod of 55 yds. [Note: Handwritten correction says 5 1/2 yds.] square, and I knew by experience that I should

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have to work very hard, and very late to average four rods a day; --but I had been without flour so long that I agreed to do as many rods as would outset a 200 lb. bag, which at the price of flour at that time occupied me three weeks.

I was now virtually independent in my own estimation; before the flour would be exhausted, my wheat crop would be harvested, and though not more than sufficient for my wants and for seed, there would be several tons of potatoes to sell, which would provide everything else required.

As my left hand lies upon the paper while writing this, each finger bears evidence of that and subsequent harvests, from the awkwardness of the amateur reaper in the use of the sickle.

This was the only occasion upon which I worked for wages after the stoppage of the road-work, during the remainder of my residence in the valley, excepting the assisting a party temporarily who had taken a contract to procure a quantity of spars for a Nelson merchant.

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I cannot help contrasting the greatly improved position of the ordinary labourer of the present time, as regards the rate of wages, prices of provisions, and general articles of consumption, and the command of the comforts and conveniences of an advanced state of Society, with the period of which I have been writing.

At the present time flower is about 28s. the 200 lb. bag, and an ordinary day-labourer is paid 8s. per day of eight hours, consequently he can earn in 3 1/2 days a sack of flour, for which I wrought as many weeks, and had to work very hard, and for longer hours each day.

Soon after planting the potatoes I applied myself vigorously to the erection of a house, similar to the one that had come to grief the previous year, and with assistance, which had to be repaid in labour, it was finished before harvest.

After harvest I found it very useful for storing the crop, as by laying scantling across from wall to wall, the upper part of the house just contained it, leaving plenty of space

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in the lower part, the wheat forming a ceiling to the apartment. As the height was only about seven feet, which would not allow of the use of a flail for thrashing, I procured a round block of wood three feet in length and eighteen inches in diameter, and upon this I thrashed out the wheat as required, by taking as much of a sheaf as could be held by both hands and slashing it across the block until the corn was all knocked out of the ears, a slow process, but fairly effective, as from being stored in the house, where there was generally a good fire burning (as fire-wood was very plentiful), the corn was very dry and easily shed.

At this time a young man, who occupied the section adjoining mine, and the person I referred to as having assisted at the interment at the Wairau, proposed to join me, and work our land together. To this I assented, so he took up his abode with me, and we made common property of our few possessions. Ours was a very amicable partnership, and though only lasting twelve months, was only terminated by our entering into another partnership of a

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more ambitious character, to which I shall refer in due course. We shared some hard times very cheerfully together, and from being so happily suited to each other I suppose, we never had a single disagreement, or an angry word pass between us while we lived together, or since for that matter, for though we have been widely sundered, living in different provinces, we have often had business transactions together to our mutual satisfaction and advantage. As his was chiefly fern land, requiring more labour to cultivate it and yielding less return for the labour, and the cleared part of my bush land being of but small extent, we resolved to squat upon, and prepare for the next season's wheat crop, a piece of unoccupied land near the river, that had formerly been a Maori clearing.

The soil we knew to be very good, and being of a light loamy nature, was very easy to dig, an important consideration when from the absence of oxen, horses, and ploughs, all our cultivating had to be done with the spade.

The land in question was covered with a

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thick verdure of wild weeds, the creeping chick-weed predominating, a sure indication of the fertility of the soil, and it required deep and careful digging to bury the thick surface growth. We used to dig ten rods a day each; in fact we made it a set task to accomplish this much, by pacing out the distance to be dug each day. I remember our plan was to divide the day's work into certain stages, putting in a stick at a certain distance, and digging to it before stopping for a rest and smoke; then pacing and marking the next point to be reached (generally rather more than half the day's task) when we would stop for dinner, and so on for the entire day's work. In this way four acres were dug in good seed time, and sown with wheat, we harrowing it, by drawing a large bundle of brushwood to and fro over the surface until the grain was well buried, a very toilsome operation from our having to walk so continuously over the loose soil. It was, indeed, farming under difficulties in the absence of nearly all the usual appliances, and was limited entirely to manual labour. There have not been wanting theorists who

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have advocated the superiority of spade husbandry, but my practical experience would incline me to prefer guiding a plough to using a spade for this purpose, even though the yield might be less prolific.

I remember looking round, and observing what a small proportion the result of three or four days' hard work bore to the entire plot, and feeling almost disheartened at the prospect, but as day by day added to the one, and diminished the other, the work seemed to grow less monotonous, and proceeded more lightly and cheerfully, and it was with a feeling of gleeful satisfaction that the last corner was rounded in.

After this, it seemed a light sort of pastime to dig an acre for barley, our spades were like burnished steel with the constant friction, and were very carefully housed at night, to preserve them in good working order, an old file being in constant requisition during the day to keep a good edge on them.

It was our custom to thrash upon wet days only, when no out-door work could be done, and it often happened from a continuance of fine

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weather, that our supply of flower would become exhausted; but we would not waste fine weather for such a trifling matter, and contented ourselves with potatoes only until the next wet day.

Upon awaking in the morning, and hearing the rain falling, we would rise early, get out the block, thrash out, and winnow about a bushel of wheat (we knew to a nicety how many-sheaves to thrash), and carry it down the valley to the house of the owner of a hand flower-mill, the only one in the place, for the use of which 1s. per bushel was charged, with the privilege of grinding the wheat ourselves; the thrashing, winnowing, and grinding occupying the entire day. This quantity we could make last a month, by making bread of about equal quantities of flower and potatoes, and this was the formula: as much flower added to mashed potatoes as would make a stiff dough, no water being used, and the loaf baked by placing it on the hot hearth, and covering it with hot wood, ashes, and embers. It would come out quite clean and light, and was simply delicious, the only fault being there

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was never enough of it, as we could only afford a small piece each as a relish with our tea, having first made our principal meal off potatoes. Our tea, I should remark, was made from the dried leaves of a native shrub, of a very spicy flavour, and known as the kawa-kawa, too pungent if used fresh and green, so we always had a branch hanging near the fireplace, from which a few leaves were stripped as required, and put in the tea-pot, and an infusion made as with ordinary tea, and milk being added (for at this time there were two cows in the valley), it made a very agreeable beverage; sugar we had none, but it did not seem to require it. I am convinced it must have possessed very refreshing and sustaining properties, otherwise I am sure with our spare diet, and continuous hard work, we could not have maintained such robust health and vigorous strength.

During the wheat grinding, I, upon one occasion, beguiled its tediousness for my partner and self, by reading aloud the first volume of Red Gauntlet, holding the book with one hand and turning the mill with the

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other, while my companion performed the "dem'd horrid grind," as Mantalini would have called it, at the other handle, deriving compensation in the interest of the story for any extra labour imposed.

While the digging of the four-acre field was in progress, we were favoured with an unusually long spell of fine weather, consequently had been without flour for some time, and as usual when out of flour, we had dispensed with the tea, not caring for it unless there was a piece of bread or damper to accompany it.

One morning at this time, when we had been without meat or flour for about a fortnight, I proposed roasting the potatoes for breakfast for a change, for I was beginning to feel dainty. Somehow I was not in my usual trim that morning at work, and at last I was obliged to lean upon my spade and was very sick. I felt too weak and ill to continue the work, and said as much to my companion. He replied that he also felt quite out of sorts. I then proposed our returning home and killing the pig in the sty, which was intended to have

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been kept for a future occasion; to this he cheerfully assented, and at noon that day, after having made a good square meal as a Yankee would say, we felt quite ourselves again.

As neither of us felt inclined to return to the digging, I resolved to signalize the sacrifice of the pig by a little experimental cookery, that I had been revolving in my mind for some time, and had only been waiting for an opportunity to put in practice; it was the manufacture of a haggis, and now the long-wished-for chance presented itself.

It would be absurd to take credit for any originality in relation to a subject, or dish, long ago immortalized by Robert Burns.

A few months previously, I had tasted this national dainty at a neighbour's house, and relishing it very much, was curious to inquire the secret of its composition, and now with the materials at hand I felt quite competent to undertake its preparation for our joint benefit, and imparted my inten-

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tion to my companion, who, being a Scotchman, was pleased, perhaps a little flattered, at my enthusiasm in what might be considered his country's cause, and watched with absorbing interest my culinary preparations.

In the course of the momentous proceedings I discovered one important element wanting, namely, oatmeal; what was to be done? Were we to be defeated for such a trifle? No, indeed! We had some bran in the house. Why should not that do as well? Accordingly, as much bran was added as gave the requisite cohesion to the ingredients, and now the matchless deed was achieved, and the haggis all ready for cooking; but this was deferred until the evening, when we should be sufficiently at leisure to give our entire minds to its attention and contemplation.

Accordingly, in the evening, we were sitting on either side of the fireplace, smoking our pipes and pleasantly chatting, while the music of the bubbling pot formed a grateful accompaniment, when we were

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nearly startled off our seats by a loud explosion in the pot. The melancholy fact was soon disclosed; the haggis had burst; sufficient allowance had not been made for the swelling of the bran, and a large pot of soup was the result.

This was a serious disappointment, but it was not to be borne that we should lose our supper by a mishap of this kind, so we regaled ourselves with a large basin of the soup each, and finished the remainder for breakfast next morning.


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