Canterbury Sketches or Life from the Early Days

C. L. (Catherine Lucy) Innes

First published by Lyttleton Times Office in 1879

Digitised and made available online by the University of Auckland Libraries and Learning Services.

Epub © 2013 Early New Zealand Books Collection

ISBN 978-1-927289-16-7

[TITLE PAGES]

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Canterbury Sketches;

OR,
LIFE FROM
THE EARLY DAYS.

BY PILGRIM
(C. L. INNES ).

CHRISTCHURCH:
"LYTTELTON TIMES" OFFICE, GLOUCESTER STREET.
1879.

[PREFACE]

PREFACE

(BY THE VERY REV. THE DEAN OF CHRISTCHURCH).

WHO is there that does not know the peculiar pleasure of recalling the days of one's early childhood? To live over again in thought the scenes of our youth, or of our riper years can yield unmixed satisfaction to none; but to send memory back as far as she can find her way on the track of life, to fetch us all the traces she can recover of our childhood's footsteps, is always an interesting, as well as a freshening and healthy exercise. It is like looking back into another life, and yet one which is all our own – a life, as it were, in Elysian fields, or in the Golden Age, before sorrow and care were born – a life in which all the actors were heroes, all the clouds had a silver lining, and all the land was bathed with ambrosial light.

Closely akin to this is the interest which all communities and nations feel in tracing the history of their origin, and in exploring all that tradition has handed down of the exploits and characters of the renowned among their ancestors. But here we must note a difference between communities of modern growth – such as those of America and the British Colonies – and the grand old historic nations of Europe and Asia. The annals of the latter gradually become clouded over with a mist of uncertainty, which thickens more and more, as we trace them farther back into primeval antiquity, until at length they are completely lost in shadowy outline and unsubstantial myth. The origin and early history of modern

colonies, on the other hand, is enveloped in no such haze of obscurity; they may be found embedded among the substantial strata of official reports, and the hard, dry layers of facts and statistics, which form the material of uninviting Blue Books. On this account they may seem to lose in romance, what they gain in clearness. Yet, happily for our imaginations, and still more for those of our children, besides the Queen's high-way of level beaten fact, by which the business-like annalist must travel, there are pleasant bye-paths across the meadows for the tourist and the holiday loiterer: here and there, close to the dusty road, but apart from it, in sheltered nooks, are patches of verdure and a variegated embroidery of wild flowers, to refresh and gladden the weary and wayworn. Or, to vary the metaphor, we may say that, alongside the dry chronicle of fact, in the early history of our Colonies generally, and not least of all in that of the Canterbury Settlement, there spreads an ample margin embellished with illustrations, pathetic, humourous, romantic, joyous. There is poetry, as well as prose, in the life of the early settler; besides the documentary record of laws and institutions, there is also what our Teuton kinsmen call a folk-lore, to be carefully preserved, and lovingly cherished by the thoughtful and patriotic Colonist, not only that the deeds and words of those whom he reveres may not be forgotten, but for the sake of generations to come, that their past may afford them not merely a dull record of facts and names, but also bright lights and tender shadows for sentiment and imagination to dwell upon.

Of such a nature is the pleasing task to which the Authoress of the following Sketches has addressed herself. In many respects she is peculiarly qualified, if I may venture to say so, for the successful accomplishment of it. The actors in the scenes she describes were all personally known to her; she

was herself a passenger on board one of the celebrated Four Ships, which brought the first freight of Canterbury Colonists to the land of their adoption; her experiences of our "Life from the Early Days" began at an age when impressions are most lively; with the exception of a brief visit to the land we still fondly call Home, she has dwelt among us from her first coming to this day; her joys and sorrows have been identified with Canterbury, and she has never lost the happy enthusiasm of the true Canterbury Pilgrim.

Having now spoken, at the request of the authoress, this brief Prologue, I beg leave to retire for the present, being doubly honoured in having to appear again here and there, as I perceive by a perusal of the Sketches, as an actor in one of the minor parts of this historic drama. Both writer and actors, I venture to think, may comfort themselves with the assurance that, whatever may be the opinion of new comers, old settlers, at any rate, with few exceptions, will greet with pleasure the appearance on the public stage, of "Canterbury Sketches, or Life from the Early Days."

THE DEANERY, CHRISTCHURCH,
September 8th, 1879.

P. S. – By a singular coincidence, which did not occur to the writer of these lines until he wrote down the above date, this Preface was penned on the Twenty-ninth anniversary of the day on which his own ship, the Sir George Seymour, weighed anchor at Plymouth, and bade farewell to the shores of Old England, her three companions of the Pilgrim Fleet having left the preceding day, or during the night which followed it.

PREFACE

(By Pilgrim).

MAY I say a few words to my readers before launching my little barque into the great sea of literature? These Sketches were first written for the Canterbury Times, and appeared weekly. I have revised and added to them, and now publish them in the form of a book, which I trust may while away an hour, by recalling pleasant memories of old days. I have quoted largely from the Lyttelton Times, as it gave me much information I could not obtain elsewhere. I am also indebted to the Proprietors of the same paper for the "Canterbury Rhymes" which I have introduced. I must also thank my friend, the Dean of Christchurch, for having so kindly written the Preface, and also beg to thank the Subscribers who have enabled me to publish this little work. Deal leniently with my first attempt, my friends, as we may meet again at some future day,

TO MY READERS.

THE frontispiece of this little work requires a word on my part. It represents Christchurch in 1852, and was originally taken by Dr. Barker, I believe. It was sent Home and lithographed, and appeared in the Illustrated London News. The present picture is a photograph from that lithograph. It has been reduced and touched up by Mr. Dossetter, photographer. I have named the principal houses, the only one my readers will recognise is the Land Office, which is still in existence, and is now used as a Resident Magistrate's Court. The small bridge was the only footbridge in Christchurch. Mr. G. Brittan's house is where the Clarendon now stands. Mr. Cridland's house close to the river is the site of the Willows, Dr. Turnbull's residence. In the far distance is to be seen St. Michael's and Christ's College. Twenty-seven years has truly made a marvellous change.

PILGRIM.

ERRATA.

Page 4, third line, for "memos" read "memoirs.

Page 67, thirteenth line, for "Heapley" read "Heaphey."

CHAPTER I.

CANTERBURY SKETCHES.

LIFE FROM THE EARLY DAYS.

CHAPTER I.

IN these days of progress, and to use an American phrase – "go-a-headisim" – men I are more inclined to look to the future, rather than to the past, but there still may be a few who will care to read a simple but faithful record of the early days of this our adopted country. Some of the early settlers may read these few chapters and look back with regret to those happy times; aye, happy in spite of hard work and the many discomforts they had to endure. A bond of no ordinary friendship united the "Pilgrims," as we were called, we had all left "dear old England" with the same object – to try our fortunes in a new and strange land. I shall endeavour, to the best of my ability, to give some idea of our life in Canterbury from the early days, and commence these pages with the arrival of the first four ships in Lyttelton, on the 16th of December, 1850. I may here mention that this Canterbury Fleet, consisting of the Charlotte Jane, the Randolph, and the Cressy, sailed together from Plymouth on the 7th of September, 1850, and the Sir George Seymour on the morning of the 8th, and curiously enough, three of the

ships came in sight of New Zealand the same day, the Randolph and the Sir George Seymour being the only two that sighted each other during the three months' voyage. It was on a bright beautiful morning, with a true New Zealand sky of deep blue, and not a cloud to be seen, that the Charlotte Jane came to anchor at eight o'clock in the morning of the 16th of December, and earned the proud distinction of being the first ship to land emigrants on the shores of the Canterbury Settlement. The Randolph arrived the same evening, the next day the Sir George Seymour, and last of all the Cressy, on the 27th. The first view of Port Cooper (as it was then called) was most picturesque, the sun was just setting, and bathed the hills and harbour with a soft golden light. I give here a short Poem, published in the first number of the Lyttelton Times, January the 11th, 1851.

OUR FIRST NEW ZEALAND SUNSET.

Sett'st as thou wert wont to do,
Old fount of light?
Bathing with familiar hue
Tree, dale, and height.

Casting still old England's shades
Thou art aye the same,
If on land the vision fades,
Then, be ours the blame.

Grand old friend! thou shinest still,
Guiding to the work;
To the steadfast mind and will,
Never dim or mirk.

Glorious type! of fond old ties
Fate may have bereft us,
Paint thou with unfailing dyes
God hath not left us.
– D. T. WILLIAMS.

The following description of Port Cooper I have taken from Mr. Godley's private journal, published in the Canterbury Papers: –

"The harbour is very fine, both in a utilitarian and picturesque point of view. None of us were prepared for the beauty of the scenery, it took us more by surprise than at Otago, for the sketches we had seen in England were far from inviting. The character is very different from that of the lovely bay on the banks of which Port Chalmers stands, but I am not sure that I prefer it. The hills are bold, both in face and outline, bare for the most part, that is, with only small patches of wood at the bottom of the glens or gullies, but with much of that sublimity, which is produced by extent of view and rugged wildness."

Another extract runs thus: – "One might have supposed that the country had been colonised for years, so settled and so busy was the look of the Port. In the first place there is a splendid jetty; from thence a wide beaten-looking road leads up the hill, and turns off through a deep cutting to the eastward (this was the Bridle-path). On each side of the road there are houses scattered, to the number of about twenty-five, including two Hotels and a Custom-House (in the shape of a small weather-boarded hut certainly, but still a Custom-House). In a square railed off close to the jetty are four excellent houses intended for Immigration Barracks, with a cook-house in the centre; next the square comes a small house, which Captain Thomas, Chief Surveyor, inhabits, but which is destined for an Agent's office. Behind this, divided from it by a plot of land intended for a garden, stands a stately edifice, which was introduced in due form to us as our house, it is weather-boarded and has six rooms and a verandah, in short, after seeing it, we could not help laughing at our anticipations of a shed on the bare beach with a fire at the door."

Mr. Godley at that time was Agent for the Canterbury Association, and the following extract is from his memos.: – "From the 16th of December, 1850, to December 22nd, 1852, when Mr. Godley sailed for England, he was in all but the name, the governor of the settlement, which he had originated and formed. Such a career is not granted to many in this life; most men are but the agents to carry out the schemes of others; it was given to Mr. Godley to carry out his own design. What he was amongst us during the first two years of the settlement, some of us remember, and most of us know by tradition; not with coffers full, and facilities abundant, but in poverty of funds, amid great difficulties, amid much discomfort, amidst the disappointment of many sanguine expectations, and the ill-concealed hostility of a Government which appeared vexed at the additional trouble imposed upon it, by the founding of a new Colony within its jurisdiction, Mr. Godley guided the infant fortunes of Canterbury in the full and entire conviction of the result which must one day come."

I now go on to our first view of the Plains of Canterbury. A party of us made up our minds to climb to the top of the Bridle-path; the track lay up what might fairly be called a mountain, so after a stiff walk, we were glad to stop, and admire the view; in fact the admiration of the landscape (behind us) necessitated our stopping so often that our leader said, "Come this will not do, we shall never get to the top at this rate, let us take a good rest, and start again." We were all thankful to do so, and sat and lay down in various comfortable attitudes. Some amongst us offered a sacrifice to St. Nicotina, and others did a little sketching. After a short rest, we soon reached the top of the hill, and had our first view of the Canterbury Plains, and our future home. How

shall I describe them? In the far distance lay an amphitheatre of snow-capped mountains, and a vast yellowish plain without the smallest apparent inequality on its surface, lay stretched between them and the sea; there were also several dark patches, which proved to be Riccarton, Papanui, Rangiora, Ohoka, and Oxford Bushes, and also some rivers which, from their flowing in deep channels, made but a small show in the distance. From one point we could see the pretty bay of Port Cooper on one side, and on the other the grand Plains, with forty miles of surfy beach, the whole backed up by our glorious Southern Alps.

The first view of the Plains was rather disappointing to English eyes, that is, we missed the greenness which the growth of grass in a country long cultivated exhibits, but we soon grew to like our yellow tussocks, when we found what feed it made for cattle and sheep; and only the other day I was talking to a friend who told me, that the hares that were found on the Plains where the tussock still grows, were stronger and more vigorous than those fed on English grass, and gave better sport for coursing.

After a rest we started homewards, and found, as is often the case in human life, far easier to travel down hill. Some of our party had made arrangements to stay on board their respective ships for a time, a proceeding which our Emigration Agent, Mr. Fitzgerald, highly approved of, as it was most difficult to find accommodation for all in the Barracks. A sad accident happened a few days after our arrival; as a party of young men were coming down the hill, they saw a man sitting, as if he were resting at the side of the road, on coming up to him they found to their horror that he was at rest for ever, for he was dead. They carried him down to Lyttelton to his

poor widow and children, he was a Mr. John Williams, a passenger by the Randolph; he bore a high character amongst those who had an opportunity of knowing him, and was respected and liked by his fellow passengers. The cause of his death appeared to have been heart complaint. This sad event threw a gloom over our little community.

Our first Sunday in Lyttelton I can just remember, and I am indebted to my valued friend, the Very Rev. the Dean of Christchurch, for the following graphic picture of our first Sunday: – "I wish to draw now a little picture of our first Sunday in Canterbury, which I ought to be able to do, as it was my privilege to officiate at the very first service, simply because, for reasons I need not enter into, I was the first of the Pilgrim Chaplains to leave the ship, and take up my abode on shore. There was no church, no schoolroom, no place even in which it seemed possible service could be held. There was a warehouse on Norwich Quay, close by the water-side, full above and below (for it had two storeys) of sugar barrels, flour barrels, tar barrels, tar tarpaulins, coils of rope, and what not, a most unecclesiastical exterior, a most unattractive interior. It was a barn, with of course a lean-to. The lean-to style of architecture predominated in those days, so much so, that many buildings were lean-to's pure and simple, having nothing where-to to lean. The upper storey of this warehouse was to be our church, better after all, or at least more wholesome and airy than the "Catacomb's" in which our Christian forefathers were fain to find a refuge and a sanctuary; but though airy it was dark, for there were no windows, but only a wide opening at the seaward end, whereat protruded a windlass for lifting barrels and heavy goods. Stairs of course there were none whereby to ascend to the church aloft, a

ladder sufficed, but if I remember rightly, something like a permanent ladder was erected with a back to it, before Sunday came round. The seats were rough planks resting on cases, the lectern a case upon a case. Very hearty and happy notwithstanding were our first services in this shapeless ungainly looking building. The first service was held in the early morning, Mr. and Mrs. Godley and a few others attended, the bulk of the passengers of the three ships had not yet come to live on shore. A sermon was preached, and the Holy Communion was administered. At half past ten o'clock, which was the usual time of service for some years afterwards, several boat-loads of colonists came ashore for a second service, and strange it was to see the bright summer costumes and the pink and blue ribbons of the Pilgrim mothers and daughters, contrasted with those rough planks and cases, and that dingy, cob-webbed, lowering roof. Not less marked was the excellent singing and chanting we had at those services."

This extract is a vivid picture of our first service, and the Psalm for the day, the 22nd, was wonderfully applicable to us. These are the verses I refer to, "And there He setteth the hungry that they may find them a city to dwell in; that they may plant their fruits of increase. He blesseth them so that they multiply exceedingly and suffereth not their cattle to decrease." It seemed as if the Almighty had given us His blessing on our new life, and may we not say, on looking back through the long vista of years, that He has blessed many of us abundantly, and made us a prosperous and happy people? To return to mundane affairs, not a month after our arrival, on the 11th of January 1851, the first number of the Lyttelton Times was published, Mr. Fitzgerald being the able editor. I quote a few extracts from the first

leader. "In order to the successful establishment and conduct of a newspaper, it is essential, first, that there be some unoccupied room it is proposed to fill; some literary want which it is designed to supply; secondly, that the paper be conducted in such a manner so as to meet the deficiency. It probably never before happened that a resolution was formed to print and publish a weekly journal upon the shores of a bay, situated in the remotest corner of the globe; when at the time the surrounding country was a desert, and where scarcely twenty human habitations were in existence. These, however, were not all the circumstances. The establishment of the Lyttelton Times is but a chapter in the history of the foundation of the Colony itself; with that story our readers are already acquainted; they know it was designed to found a colony which should contain as far as possible within itself, all the elements of society in the more complete stages of development at which it had arrived in the more advanced communities of the old world."

The first number of the Lyttelton Times was on a very small scale, and contained a few advertisements, a leader, shipping intelligence, a poet's corner, and a small space devoted to news of the day. It was published weekly, and we looked forward to its advent every Saturday with pleasure. I find that the London Times of July 5th, 1851, thus noticed its small contemporary: –

"A slice of England, cut from top to bottom, was despatched in September last, to the Antipodes. A complete sample of civilization, weary of the fight for bread within the compass of these narrow isles, took ship at Gravesend in search of less crowded markets in New Zealand. The step was enthusiastic but by no means wild. It was not a blind helter-skelter risk from known troubles at home, to more

painful hardships to be discovered abroad, but a deliberate, long considered, solemn, and devoted pilgrimage to a temple, erected by nature for the good of all comers, blessed with strong limbs, and courageous hearts. Greece, in the heyday of heathen glory, had given her picture in little to the colonies she designed to establish, why should not England exhibit her own Saxon face to her new born dependencies? Noah's Ark did not more completely treasure up specimens of the creature world, than did the ships bound for Canterbury preserve casts from all the old moulds left behind them in the old country. At the head of the Pilgrims stood an actual Bishop, behind him were working clergy, working schoolmasters, working landlords, working labourers – workers everyone. Between deck and keel, were the elements of a college, the contents of a public library, the machinery for a bank, and the constituent parts of a constitutional Government. It is superfluous to say that the enterprising voyagers took on board with them type, a press, an editor, a reporter, pens, ink, and paper, and a determined resolution to start a journal for the enlightened public of New Zealand, the very earliest opportunity.

"It is certainly not a matter of astonishment, that the Canterbury settlers should settle upon an organ, half an hour after they were fortunate enough to reach a distant home; but it is really worthy of remark and admiration, that all the conditions of a highly influential journal should present itself in an instant to an antipodean contemporary on a desert coast, quite as readily, as to the journalist in the centre of this ever restless city. It is difficult to glance at the first number of the Lyttelton Times, now before us, and associate its existence with a community not a month old. So far from being ashamed

of our name-sake, we are positively proud of his acquaintance, and envious of his power. If the Editor of the Lyttelton Times can create so much out of nothing, what would he make of such a breeding heap as this of London?"

CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER II.

OUR life on landing from our respective ships, and before we went over the hill to the Plains, was decidedly primitive, and I know what the emigrants of the present day would say if they had to "rough it" as we did. We lived in the Emigration Barracks provided by the Canterbury Association, and there was great difficulty in finding accommodation for all. Mr. Fitzgerald, our Emigration Agent, had to use all his powers of persuasion to satisfy the Pilgrim mothers and daughters, sisters and wives.

I remember an amusing story told of a lady, who found she had to leave the barracks and make room for others, the rule being that each family was to stay for a fortnight and then go. She did not approve of this. Mr. Fitzgerald came several times to try to induce her to leave; so the last time he called, she sent him a message, to say that she had let down her back hair and had gone to bed, and did not mean to get up again. Mr. Fitzgerald could do nothing, and left deploring, and yet admiring, the ingenuity of woman.

Another lady landed with her husband and family, as their ship was leaving for England; she asked Mr. Fitzgerald for a room. He said there was not one to be had. What was to be done? they could not return to their ship. At last Mrs. W. said, being a woman of resources, "I know what I'll do, we'll get a spade and dig a hole in the side of the hill, and camp out all night, and I will write a letter to the

Canterbury Papers 1 and say we were obliged to sleep on the side of the hill." This threat was too much for poor Mr. Fitzgerald, and he managed to find them a room. The arrangements there were primitive. There was a galley or cook-house at the back, where, we could do our own cooking, or get it done by a man in charge. Our bread we got from an early Pilgrim, who started a small bakery and store. It was amusing to see us all anxiously waiting till the oven was drawn, and then hurrying off with the "staff of life."

I find the following extract, in a manuscript kindly lent me by The Rev. the Dean, which gives his idea of life at that time: –

"To look back to those days is like looking back into another life. It is not merely the lapse of time, it is not so much that – that period is separated from us by some twenty-eight years; it is not that those of us who were then young are now in middle life, and that the heads of those who were in their prime are now sprinkled over with the frosts of many winters. It is that our whole life then was so novel, so strange, so heart-stirring, memory certainly throws a halo over it – call it if you will – a halo of romance. It was the childhood of a people, a healthy, vigorous, and racy childhood. We had our troubles and our hardships, so has childhood, but they were more than compensated by childhood's freshness and elasticity. The weather was delicious, and our spirits were aa buoyant as the air, and our sleep was as deep and tranquil as that of the moonlit deep when every wind is hushed. I may refer to an amusing proof of this last-mentioned fact: – Two friends of mine were sleeping under canvas in what was then called

Charlotte Jane Square, being about the site of the present gaol in Lyttelton, where some of the Charlotte Janers first, and afterwards others, had pitched their tents. Well! as luck would have it, while they slept, the wind awoke; a Nor'wester sprang up in the night; a strong gust swept down the gully and carried off their tent, leaving those poor unprotected males all unconscious, and still they slept on in blissful ignorance on the bare hill-side, till the heat of the sun, or the laughter of their neighbours (I forget which) awoke them to a sense of their absurd position. My friends, I may say, were wide-awake enough in the day-time."

Soon after our arrival, Bishop Selwyn came into Port, in his schooner, the Undine. I remember seeing him standing at the helm, guiding his little vessel into port, with his tall athletic figure, and the long bishop's coat. He gave me the impression of being like St. Paul, his fine face, stern in repose, but his smile was like a gleam of sunshine. "He was more than all we expected, he gave us true help and encouragement, and his masterly mind and admirable talent for organisation were most earnestly and successfully exercised for our benefit. We had confidence in him, and he thoroughly justified our confidence." He had wonderful influence with the Natives, and spoke their language fluently. The following anecdote will give my readers some idea of what he was in those days: – One fine summer's morning, the Bishop and two of his friends, Mr. Mantell and. Mr. Cass, started to walk to Riccarton, the Messrs. Deans' property; they went up the Bridle-path along the top of the hill, till they came to the spur leading down the hill, near where Mr. Murray Aynsley's house now stands; and as they felt tired, they sat down to rest, the Bishop sitting on a large stone.

Mr. Mantell said to Mr. Cass, in an awe-struck whisper, "That ought to be called the Holy stone." After a short rest, they started down the hill, and soon came to the banks of the Heathcote. There was no bridge in those days, and the usual mode of crossing was to dispense with certain unmentionable garments and carry them over. Mr. Mantell and Mr. Cass dropped behind to allow the Bishop to go over first; after waiting a short time, and no doubt indulging in the luxury of a pipe, they went on and found Bishop Selwyn sitting on the bank, waiting for them. He said, "Well, we had better push on," and gathering up his long coat, walked into the river just as he was. His friends did not see why they should get wet, denuded themselves of a certain portion of their apparel, and followed the Bishop, who had reached the other side and was waiting for them. He remarked, "Well, my plan was the shortest!" "But a deuced uncomfortable one, I should think," muttered Mr. Mantell.

They had a long walk, and reached Riccarton in time for dinner. I must pay a tribute of respect to those pioneers of civilization, Messrs. William and John Deans, and their generous and unbounded hospitality to the Pilgrims. I feel sure that most of the early settlers will agree with me, that the genial brothers of Riccarton did all they could to help us, both with advice and substantial kindness of every sort. It was always open house at Riccarton, and in those days letters of introduction were not required; you just walked in and were treated with warm hospitality, the master of the house sometimes not even knowing your name.

The Bishop and his friends were quite ready for the excellent dinner which awaited them, and did full justice to it. After dinner the Bishop went out to

the kitchen (which was detached) to talk to the men; when he returned to the house, he was sitting in the parlour, eating apples and drinking new milk, when Mrs. Todd, the kindly Scotchwoman, (wife to Mr. Deans' foreman), whom no doubt many Pilgrims remember, said, looking at the Bishop, "Eh! Sir, you're unco wet, wull ye no gae and pit on some o' the Maister's claithes?"

He thanked her for her kind thought, and said "No, he was all right;" and then turning to his travelling companions, said, "Well, gentlemen, are you ready to walk back? I must be on board to-night." They declined with thanks. He then wished them all good-bye, and walked into Port that evening.

The following extracts I quote from "The Life of Bishop Selwyn," by the Rev. H. W. Tucker: –

"By the provident foresight of Bishop Selwyn, this commanding position has been secured for the site of the Metropolitan Cathedral of New Zealand, and at some future period in the far distant future, when the projected Cathedral shall have become a venerable pile, it will be a matter of no little interest to its then Ministers (should the tradition be so long preserved), to read how, in the dark or early ages of New Zealand, A. D. 1843, its founder, the first Bishop, returning from a walking visitation of more than a thousand miles, attended by a faithful companion of a then, it may be, extinct race, his shoes worn out, and tied to his instep by a leaf of native flax, travel-worn but not weary, once more found himself on this favoured spot, arrested for a moment by the noble prospect presented to his bodily eye, and cheered by the prophetic vision of a long line of successors – Bishops of New Zealand traversing the same spot, better clad and less ragged than himself.

Such a scene, illustrative of the 'Hour and the Man,' in the hands of a true artist, would afford a fitting subject for a painting.

"The Rev. S. Blackburne, who was selected as the head of St. John's College, Auckland, has contributed his own impression of the Bishop, and of his work, in New Zealand: 'Bishop Selwyn I always regard, as the greatest man this age has produced – a king every inch of him; he would rule by a look, but stoop to perform the most menial office without the slightest loss of dignity. What I most admired was his keen sense of duty, and his grand simplicity of character.' When Bishop Abraham, having been commissioned to appoint his successor to St. John's College, kindly offered the post to me, I told him, that I looked forward with intense pleasure to working in the diocese of so great a man as Bishop Selwyn. He replied 'He is a great man, and would appear so to his valet, if he had one.' Bishop Selwyn had a love of work, and great power of endurance. I have heard of his taking eight services in one day; when 10,000 soldiers were landed in New Zealand, with only one Chaplain, (and he a Roman Catholic) the Bishop felt it was his duty to provide for them; so he constituted himself Chaplain, started a number of services, and held Bible Classes for the men. The soldiers were enthusiastic about him, he knew exactly how to adapt his language to them; it was amusing to hear the Officers speak of him, they not only admired him as a Bishop, but they discovered in him great powers for taking in the details of military life. They used to say it was a shame he was not a General; naval men were equally enthusiastic about his seamanlike qualities, and all agreed that he would make a first rate Admiral.

"During the first ten years of his episcopate, he was most unpopular in Wellington, though later on there

was no place where he was more highly esteemed. Landing late in the evening in a little dingy, he heard two men on the beach talking about his schooner, and one of them said, 'What's that schooner that has come in this evening?' to which the other replied, 'Oh, that old fool the Bishop's;' just then the dingy grounded on the shore, and rubbing his hands and chuckling, he jumped out of the boat, saying, 'Yes, and here's the old fool himself.'"

A beautiful Poem was written after his death, but I do not know the author. I give it here.

IN MEMORIAM.

G. A. S. -1878.

"The feet shall tread it down, even the feet of the poor and the steps of the needy."

In Lichfield's holiest burial-place
Just where the earliest sunbeams fall,
A new-made grave is decked with flowers,
Beneath the old Cathedral wall.

Why is the turf around the grave
Trampled with marks of many feet?
And where the grass was greenest, now
All black and miry as the street?

It is the Whitsun holiday,
The town is filled with working-men,
And all the livelong yesterday,
They came and gazed, and came again.

Poor of the flock he loved so well,
Well may ye crowd – ye sons of toil!
There lies no truer working-man
In any grave in English soil.

The hand that held the pastoral staff,
That traced the Cross on infant's brow,
Had hewn the oak, had furled the sail,
Had reaped the corn, and held the plough.

The voice that soothed with tender words
The mourner and the little child,
In stern brief accents of command
Was heard above the tempest wild.

His life was work; and when the springs
Of mortal strength began to fail,
And Reason's clear defining light
Was shrinking in behind the veil –

A friend who watched beside the bed,
And strained his ears, to hear if aught
Yet faltered on his dying lips,
One mournful utterance faintly caught,

In low words, murmured heavily –
"Who's seeing to that work?" he said.
Is there no answer to that cry,
O Saviour of the faithful dead?

Thy workers die – but for the work,
Can that die too? O faithless word!
The Resurrection and the Life
Of all true work art Thou, O Lord.

"Commanding intellect and humble faith, unswerving obedience, and inexhaustible charity, tender heart, and dauntless courage – these surely were combined in George Augustus Selwyn, and make his memory and example a precious inheritance for all time."

One Sunday an accident happened, that might have had serious results. As the boats were returning from church, a sudden squall arose such as is common in the harbour, and the Sir George Seymour's boat upset, and in a moment the people were struggling in the water; we could see them plainly from our ship, the Randolph; all the boats pulled to the rescue and picked up the unfortunates. Amongst them were Mr. and Mrs. Watts-Russell, she was holding him up by his collar as he could not swim, once she felt him going, but pluckily held on till help arrived. One rather

amusing thing connected with it was, that an individual was seen swimming vigorously in the direction of the ship, with his "belltopper" fixed firmly on his head, he looked most comical with his hat bobbing about with the motion of the waves; he evidently thought that "self preservation was the first law of nature." Shortly after this, our dear old ship sailed for England. How sorry we were to say goodbye to our kind captain and officers, and the ship that had been our home for nearly six months! When we saw her sailing away, her white sails gleaming in the sun, we felt we were indeed in a strange land, and the last bit of home had left us, we almost dreaded the future, it all seemed so uncertain and dark.

I must now try and describe our exodus to the Plains. I hardly remember it, but it has so often been described to me by my mother, that I seem to know all about it. We (that is my father and mother and three children, the eldest not ten years old) started one bright sunny morning, in good spirits, having with us a roan mare, which we had borrowed. Poor old Kathleen! she was a faithful friend, but has long since gone to the "happy hunting grounds," she was very quiet, as may be supposed, for we had loaded her with pannikins, kettles, billies and bundles. We took some food so as to refresh the inner man, and started up the Bridle-path, and along the top of the hill, and down the spur, to the river Heathcote. By this time we sat down to rest our weary limbs. Bill Holland, our guide and handy man, was invaluable, he lighted a fire and made tea, and we had a jolly lunch; we then crossed the river by a small boat; we had a long and tiring walk through tussocky grass, wild irishman (a prickly shrub that grew in great abundance). At last my mother said to Bill, "When shall we get to Christ-

church?" he answered with a smile, "Why, ma-am, you are in the middle of Christchurch now. " She looked round in dismay, there was nothing to be seen but the Land Office, a large tent (Dr Barker's), a large expanse of plain, dotted here and there with Ti palms, quantities of tutu and fern, gullies, creeks and swamps all around, and nothing but a narrow track to guide us; such was Christchurch in 1851. We have improved somewhat since then; we can now boast of our handsome town, with some fine stone buildings, wide streets, numerous bridges over the Avon, our footpaths asphalted, our roads macadamized, and last, not least, our tunnel, which we owe to the energy of William Sefton Moorhouse, our second Superintendent, and our railways all over the country. An American, looking at Christchurch from the hill not long ago, said to his friend, "Wal, I guess you might have cleared your bush before building your town," and when told that the bush, as he called it, had all been planted by the early settlers, would scarcely believe it. In Hagley Park, there were a good many tents, and "V" huts scattered about. In case my readers may not know what a "V" hut is like, I will describe one: – It is exactly as if you took the roof off a house, and stood it on the ground, you can only stand upright in the middle.

1 The Canterbury Papers were a series of papers published in London for the information of intending Colonists.

CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER III.

IN commencing this Chapter, I must ask my readers to bear in mind, that I have been writing of the first three months, and as yet have not said much on public matters. The following extract from the Lyttelton Times gives a description of the selection of land, by the first body of Colonists: –

"The new Land Office was so far completed, as to allow the business to be carried on there, Mr Godley, Agent for the Canterbury Association, and Mr Guise Brittan, who had charge of the Land Office, were on the spot at an early hour. The numbers were severally called out, and the applicants came into the room in order, and made application for the piece of land they wanted, pointing out the locality on the map. There was, of course, some difficulty in pointing out the exact spot they wanted, but this was immeasurably lessened by the presence of Messrs Cass, Jollie, Torlesse, and Boys. I may here speak of the labours and hardships, the heartiness and geniality of this brave band of surveyors, who laid out towns, and named our streets, when they were a wilderness of tutu, and flax and raupo; nothing could exceed their civility, and attention. At five o'clock fifty choices had been made, when the office closed for the day. Outside the scene looked busy enough, groups of land purchasers, lounging under the verandah, or lying on the luxuriant fern and grass, with which the streets of Christchurch were still green, discussed the merits of their selections. Around, horses were tethered and dogs quarrelled, bullocks dragging timber

from the bush, raised the dust in the recent track. Dr. Barker's tent, which stands immediately opposite the Land Office, and is constructed of an immense stun-sail, formerly belonging to the Charlotte Jane, was remarkable for its seasonable hospitality, while on the next section, an eating house appeared in the most primitive phase which such an establishment can assume – a white cloth spread on boards supported joints of beef and mutton, which, together with bread, butter, tea, and coffee formed an excellent repast."

This extract gives a fair idea how business used to be transacted in those days. For the next three or four months we were busy getting on to our respective sections of land, building, fencing, and making gardens, so that in a short time, the Plains began to look populated, houses, "V" huts, tents, and lean-to's were springing up in all directions. We were very sociable then, and used to visit one another, but generally in the evening, when the day's work was over. It was always open house with everyone, and our friends would walk in quite sure of a hearty welcome; we always carried a lantern when we went out in the evening, as we should certainly have lost our way without, there were so few land marks. Our life in those days was very pleasant, although there was plenty of hard work and a dearth of comforts. I was much too young to do anything but enjoy myself. The climate was glorious, and we never seemed to catch cold. We lived in a whare, built by the Maoris of raupo, with a thatched roof, which was covered by a sail; it consisted of two rooms, and was made very comfortable inside, being lined with red blankets; there was a large fireplace, so that we could have splendid fires. Everything was baked in the camp-oven. In case some of my readers may not know

that useful article, I will describe it: – it was a large iron pot and was placed on hot embers, the lid was flat and was also covered with hot ashes; there was another pot used, called by the euphonious name of a "Go ashore," which used to hang by a chain over the fire, this was used for boiling. I remember one evening our having an invasion of friends unexpectedly, and like that heroine of ancient history, Mother Hubbard, our cupboard was rather bare; there were certainly two enormous loaves baking in two camp-ovens, but they were not nearly done. Our friends gazed with longing eyes when the covers were lifted off and an appetising odour issued forth, so at last the bread was taken out, and the crust cut off, and the centre returned to the oven; this operation was repeated several times, and with the help of some excellent corned beef, we managed to make a good tea. Fresh meat was not plentiful, but we soon had a butcher's shop in Christchurch, a small "V" hut, of course we had to fetch it ourselves, and many a hind quarter of mutton have I carried on the side of my saddle. A friend of mine one day remonstrated with the butcher for sending her nothing but necks, and breasts, and shoulders of mutton, and said she would like a change, he looked at her, and with a pitying smile on his bland oleaginous countenance said, "Bless my heart, ma-am, I believe you think sheep grow nothing but legs of mutton, you can't have one nohow till next week."

We had taken the precaution to bring from our ship a barrel of salt pork, and another of beef, so that we were not dependent on the butcher; we would sometimes vary our fare with eels, which were caught in eel baskets, made by the Maoris, and also by night lines. We also had pigeons, kakas, paradise and grey ducks, and last, not least, that delicious little bird, the New Zealand quail, and many a savoury

stew have I eaten, reminding one somewhat of that famous stew, compounded by Meg Merrilies, which Dominie Sampson, liked so "prodigiously."

The following poem gives a good description of

THE GOOD OLD DAYS.

The good old days we bid them hail,
Long time before the flood, Sir,
Of tag and rag, and eke bobtail,
Had covered us with mud, Sir.
When "Pilgrims" in romantic mood,
Came trooping o'er the ocean,
And all things seemed so smooth and good,
We never felt the motion.

Few houses then were seen upon
The hill side up and down, Sir,
And what is now a Lyttel-ton,
Was but a little town, Sir.
Joint families in tents were pent,
When houses were not rented,
So if we were not quite content,
At least we were con-tented.

Then boxes did not let us stand,
However chairs might fail, Sir,
We milked the cows, that came to hand,
In foot-pans for a pail, Sir.
Yet, all were in a humble way,
Though some, alas! were boasters,
Who underneath the table lay,
And made them out four-posters.

This was the joke we used to hear,
From many a merry wag, Sir,
We'll pay for things which we call dear,
With money by the Stag, 2 Sir.
O! money then was very tight,
It could not well be tighter,
But still our hearts were always light,
Our purse alone was lighter.

Our fare was low in point of flesh,
Tub-pork and salted beef, Sir,
With only now and then a fresh
Of mutton, for relief, Sir.
Yet when by jovial rapture taught,
We ventured to be merry,
O! then Victoria was our – Port,
Marsala was our Sherry.

The good old days before us rise,
A vision often near, Sir,
They win our smiles, or force our tears,
But still their memory's dear, Sir.
We trust an influence all their own,
No change from us shall sever,
And may the seed, that then was sown,
Yield fruit to last for ever.

Soon after our arrival on the Plains we had a church, a "V" hut, built where St. Michael's now stands. We went to church one Sunday, and found it so full, we had to sit outside and listen to the service; but what grander cathedral could we have than God's own beautiful earth, what finer roof than the deep blue o'erarching sky, "no busy hum of men," nothing to be heard but nature's voice speaking with a thousand tongues! One felt more reverent and nearer God than in the finest cathedral built by the hand of man.

I must now pass on to our first Anniversary, December 16th, 1851. Hagley Park was chosen as the scene of the amusements, which comprised a cricket match between the "Working Men's Eleven" and the "Christchurch Cricket Club Eleven;" the W. M. E. made 165, in two innings, and the C. C. C. E. made 131, in one innings. There were also some races, horse and foot, the race-course was very rough, and the horses untrained, two races and matches formed the "krect card," a sweepstakes of £5 with £2 added by the Club.

Mr. Jordan's Brandy ............1
Mr. Torlesse's Bob ............ 2
Mr. Holland's Jack ............3
Mr. Gartner's John Heki.........dist.

A match between Mr. Godley's Lady Nugent and Mr. Watts-Russell's Stationer, in which the mare proved the better horse.

Some wrestling matches, and a hunt for a pig with a greasy tail followed, and wound up the amusements of the day. It was the first real holiday we had indulged in since our arrival, and all seemed to enjoy it.

The Lyttelton Times thus notices the event: –

"Our first birthday is past, and we have celebrated the event as a public holiday, with every manifestation of public rejoicing. Notwithstanding the many disappointments which may have been experienced, for disappointment is an inevitable companion in all the undertakings of mortal man, it has been recognised by the great mass of the population of the settlement that it is good for them to be here."

One sad event happened in July, 1851, which threw a gloom over us all, I mean the death of "that true pioneer of civilization," Mr. William Deans, of Riccarton, who was drowned when the barque Maria was wrecked on her way to Wellington. He was respected among us for his kindness, usefulness, and sterling worth, and his loss was felt by all. His body was never found. A poem appeared in the Lyttelton Times, which shows the estimation in which he was held.

LINES ON A RECENT CALAMITY.

No deep funeral bell.
In pageantry of woe;
No plumed pomp is here to tell
The grief that "passeth show."

Such signs by others treasured
May force the added tear;
For him our mourning is not measured
By day, or month, or year.

His mem'ry need not plead
For the fame by others sought;
For kindly was his every deed,
And genial every thought.

Of his home no grudger he
Of heart, and hand, and mind;
A very prodigal in sympathy,
For the sorrows of his kind.

To the near and dear, relief
Comes, in guileless words, and plain;
For the cause of their unending grief
Is his unmeasured gain.
– -DAVID THEODORE WILLIAMS.

And now I will end this chapter with a few anecdotes. I remember an incident happening that would hardly be credited now, but I can vouch for its truth. A friend of ours had spent the evening with us (our house was situated in Hagley Park, opposite where the Public Gardens are now), and about ten o'clock he got up to go; my father directed him the way to reach Christchurch, and he left. Next morning about seven o'clock he made his appearance, looking rather woe-begone. "Good morning, Mr P." said my mother, "Come and have some breakfast, you are up in good time." "I have not been to bed all night," said the unfortunate man, with a most lugubrious expression on his usually cheerful countenance, "I lost my way, and have been wandering round the Park all night." However, a good breakfast refreshed him, and he went on his way rejoicing.

Another anecdote relates to Quail Island. Some friends were debating what it should be called, and

one suggested "Staffa." "Did it belong to a Native, " said another, he would say "Iona" (I own her); upon which second wit remarked, the Native would raher call it "Icolmkill" (I come kill). I hope my readers are sufficiently up in geography to know that these islands mentioned are close to each other.

The appearance of the Ti palm, or Ti tree, on the Plains was rather remarkable, they rose amidst the short grass, with their thick stalks, and graceful crest, often on looking up from the ground, startling one with their likeness to men; one of our wags said they looked "like men as trees walking." A less observant youth having lost his way close to Christchurch was cheered in the loneliness of the prairie by the appearance of a man approaching him, he took off his hat (not having forgotten the courteous address of the old country), and said to the stranger, "I beg your pardon, Sir, but will you tell me the way to Christchurch;" it was a Ti palm.

2 The Stag was a vessel which was long overdue in Port Cooper, and everyone expected something by her.

CHAPTER IV.

CHAPTER IV.

I DO not intend to follow closely either the political or social events of past years, but mean to touch lightly on all that bore reference to the progress of the colony; so, anyone expecting a minute history of all that happened will be disappointed.

To give some idea of the houses we were building, and had built, I quote a few advertisements from the Lyttelton Times: – "To let a comfortable, perfectly weatherproof hut, with an excellent cooking-stove." "To let a comfortable 'V' hut, with chimney complete." Land has risen considerably since then, as witness the following: – "Plots of Land a mile from town, on the Papanui road, at from £4 to £5 an acre." "On Tuesday, four quarter-acre sections fronting on a principal street in the Market Place, were sold at prices averaging upwards of £30 a section." A local runs thus: – "We are glad to observe that the work of making the road from Christchurch to Papanui Bush has been commenced, and that the bridge over the Avon is in course of erection. The continuation of the Ferry road into Christchurch is now complete." My readers must not suppose that when I speak of roads, they were anything like those of the present day; they were not, as we knew to our cost. If riding, they were not so bad, but in a bullock dray (which was the usual conveyance then) they were what the Danbury Newsman defined Scotland to be, "lumpy," and I may add bumpy – such ruts, and holes, and mud.

The following Poem written by the Prince of parodists, Crosbie Ward, gives some idea of them: –

THE STRUGGLE OF PAPANUI.

At Christchurch at the dawn of day,
All mudless stood the unloaded dray,
And in the stockyard near it, lay
Eight bullocks, waiting patiently.

The driver thought it not so nice
That afternoon, when clocks struck thrice,
Plunging in swamps and mud stained ice,
The deepness of the axle-tree.

In slush and quagmire, "fast as nails"
The oxen lash their muddy tails;
And furious, still the driver flails
And double thongs unceasingly.

Then plunge the steers to anger driven,
Then snaps the pole, with plunges liven,
And louder than these noises even,
Sharp cracks the whip-cord stingingly.

But heavier yet the whip must drop,
On mud-stained oxen, neck and crop;
And longer yet the dray must stop,
Imbedded to its axle-tree.

'Tis road, but scarce the stoutest one
Can ford the mud lake, rolling dun;
Where artful drains that wrong way run,
Pour down their waters constantly.

The quagmire thickens, on ye pack,
Through slimy swamps and spongy track;
Crack, driver, all the whip-cord crack,
And shout with all thy ribaldry.

Few, few will cart such roads to meet,
Each swamp will lower the price of wheat,
And every road be called a feat
Of Government perversity.
– -CROSBIE WARD.

This description is quite true, as one day when I was riding up to Papanui Bush, I came, as I thought, to a load of fire-wood lying on the road; my mare naturally shied, but, after a little gentle persuasion, was induced to let me inspect it, and I found the dray was there as well, buried in a deep hole, with the tops of the wheels just visible. Where the bullocks were deponent sayeth not, probably they had found a muddy grave.

On Saturday, the 18th of December, 1852, a farewell breakfast was given to Mr. and Mrs. Godley, on the eve of their departure for England. It took place in a tent in Hagley Park, a hundred and fifty people, comprising all classes of the community, assembled to do honour to the occasion, and testify their respect and esteem for their guests. An address was presented, expressing the deep regret of the colonists at losing Mr. and Mrs. Godley, and conveying a public testimony, of the uniform urbanity, zeal, and regard for the interests of all, with which he had discharged a very responsible and difficult position, and also offering their acknowledgments of the part in private life which Mrs. Godley had borne with him, by influence and example, in conducing to the friendly feeling existing throughout our young community. "Mrs. Godley's residence in the colony was not necessarily an agreeable one, it was not an enviable position for a lady, who had always lived amidst the luxuries that accompany wealth, and the gentle courtesies which surround high birth, to submit to the discomfort and inconvenience inseparable from the founding of a new settlement. It has been our misfortune to hear many ladies in this country, even those who left in straitened circumstances and precarious prospects at home, for a rough plenty, and the promise of wealth here,

grumble in no measured terms, at the indignities to which they considered themselves subjected – 'So different from what we have been accoustomed to!'

"Those who knew Mrs. Godley, not only casually, and as it were under the disguise of company manners, but in the most retired relations of home, never heard her utter a complaint or pretend to despise the tasks in which she had to engage, or the people with whom she was often compelled to associate. The humblest of those who were brought into contact with her found, instead of scornful pity or pure scorn,

"Such fine reserve, and noble reticence,
Manners so kind, jet stately, such a grace
Of tenderest courtesy.

"She, like her husband who is gone, could understand how the little offices of daily life become sanctified and ennobled by the name of duty; she, too, believed in the nobility of work, and what her hand found to do, she did it with all her might. She left us the example how it is possible in the midst of harassing cares and unwonted discomfort, to be gentle, serene, and cheerful, and uniformly courteous to all, and how little it needs of worldly wealth to create the purest type of an English home, upon the shores of a scarcely inhabited island." The above extract I have taken from a short Memoir of Mr. Godley, written by Mr. Fitzgerald.

Another extract from the "New Zealand Hand Book," edited by Sir Julius Vogel, runs thus: –

"During his term of office, Mr. Godley's remarkable energy, activity, and earnestness of purpose, contributed most powerfully to the success of the settlement."

Our first Superintendent, James Edward Fitzgerald, thus speaks of him in his speech at the opening of the Provincial Council: –

"I cannot allude to the past, without bearing this public testimony to the illustrious example, which he has bequeathed to his successors, of a stern, and ever present sense of public duty, and a fine and earnest zeal for the public service. With almost uncontrollable power, had he been so minded to sacrifice public for private ends, Mr. Godley left us with a public character, which no breath of suspicion ever sullied. His unbending integrity, his unwearied zeal in the duties of his office, which neither feebleness of health, nor severity of weather, nor domestic claims ever relaxed or excused; these rare and lofty qualifications will never be forgotten by those whose privilege it was to serve under his Government.

"I think Longfellow's words are applicable to him in a great measure: –

"Lives of great men all remind us,
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing leave behind us,
Foot-prints on the sands of Time.

"He was a great man; and has he not left foot-prints behind, that we, who are toiling through life's journey, may take heart and follow, and

"Be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate,
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labour and to wait."

I have quoted largely on the subject, as it shows the high estimation, both public and private, in which Mr. and Mrs. Godley were held; and yet only the other day I was asked, "Who was Mr. Godley? and what did he do?" How true are the words of our great poet, – "The evil that men do, lives after them, the good is often interred with their bones!"

In this year (1852) the stone of the Holy Trinity Church was laid in Lyttelton, being the first Church

in the Canterbury Settlement. "That nearly eighteen months elapsed, and no consecrated building was established upon the peculiar scheme of the Canterbury Association, had called forth much severe criticism from the friends of that body, and many taunts from its opponents." Also, a Grammar School was opened about the same time, under the direction of the Rev. H. Jacobs (our present Dean). So religion and education started together, and to my mind so they ought to continue to the end. I quote here partly from the "School List." "The Grammar School was opened on April 26th, 1852. On that day five pupils presented themselves. The first name entered on the books was Charles Colvin Pritchard (now the Rev. C. C. Pritchard, of Brasenose College, Oxford) son of C. E. Pritchard, M.A., of Brasenose College, Oxford. The second was Herbert John Mathias (now a large sheep farmer in Canterbury, and a member of the Selwyn County Council), and Frank Mathias, sons of the late Ven. Archdeacon Mathias. The fourth and fifth were David Theodore Williams (afterwards of Pembroke College, Oxford, and practising as a Solicitor in London), and Charles Hood Williams (who was for four years Assistant Secretary of Public Works in Canterbury, and is now Secretary to the Lyttelton Harbour Board), sons of Theodore Williams, a passenger by the Randolph, and well-known among the early settlers. Amongst seven others who came before the end of the month were William Guise Brittan, son of the late W. G. Brittan, and the present occupant of the honourable and responsible office of Church Steward, and Robert Simeon Jackson (late the Rev. E. S. Jackson, Private Secretary to the Most Rev. the Primate, and of the Melanesian Mission). The numbers rose to 16 before the end of the year. Progress was greatly hindered by the irregularity of attendance, caused

by the eccentricities of clocks and watches, when there was no public clock, and no watch makers; by the utter impassability of the roads in bad weather; and by the dire necessities of life in those old colonial days, when servants, male and female, were much scarcer than at present, when an old Indian Officer, who paid us a visit, described us as being "poor, proud, religious, and without servants."

Our principal amusements consisted of picnics; every one rode, and a large party would start early in the morning, taking the wherewithal to form a meal. A kettle and pannikins would be distributed among the riders, and we would go exploring, find a nice place, tether our horses, light a fire, boil our kettle, and make tea (we were always fond of tea), and had a jolly time. No formality; every one bent on enjoyment, and making things pleasant for all. Those were happy times, with little or no petty jealousies or cliqueism, which are both so rife in the present day, as much in Christchurch as elsewhere.

I remember once, after a long and tiring ride, coming to a station and being thankful to get off for a rest. We had a hearty welcome from our hosts, two Australian squatters. One, a stoutish, jolly good-tempered man; the other, a dark handsome fellow. They were so kind and hospitable, and we sat down to a capital dinner; but what I liked best was some delicious marmalade, which was taken out of a large nail can; it was imported from Tasmania in that same vessel. We little thought while laughing and talking together what the future fate of our kind hosts would be ere-long; one was, I believe, murdered by the Australian blacks, and the other poor fellow was shot by the accidental discharge of his gun. He lies in our quiet cemetery, and I never pass his peaceful grave but my thoughts go back to those dear old days – gone to return no more.

CHAPTER V.

CHAPTER V.

THE first elections for the Superintendency, the House of Representatives, and Provincial Council, took place in the middle of the year 1852. In March we received the Government Gazette, with the Proclamation from the Governor, appointing the number of Members to sit in the General, and Provincial Assemblies, and defining the boundaries of the Canterbury Province of New Zealand. So elections became the order of the day. The following skit was written at this time, so I give it here: –

THE LAY OP THE LAST REGISTERED DOG.

Ten Bob to his friends, dogs, horses, and men
Sends growling, and takes up his very best pen
To describe how his health has been falling away
Since these horrid elections have carried the sway.
Before any writs had arrived from the north
I could rise every morning, and freely go forth
Without smile from the vicar, or snarl from the mob,
Like a free, independent, and easy Ten Bob.
But no sooner had Governor Greyhound's despatch
Appointed the days for each course of the match,
Than all former connections were thrown to the wind,
No two dogs in the country could bark in one mind.
No dog knew his master, no man knew his dog,
And our puppies were lost in political fog.
The Superintendents election came first,
Some thought one dog best, and some thought his the worst.
But at length it was left to three claimants alone,
To fight for the Government collar, and bone.
The first was a dog of undoubted renown,
Who had long kept a watch in our waterside town,
By the name on his collar, his sires had seen,
Many fights with the wild wolves in Ireland green.
– -(JAMES EDWARD FITZGERALD.)

The second a bloodhound of Norman descent,
Whose forefathers once to the Holy Land went,
And 'tis thought in his heart a good portion lurks
Of the courage his ancestors showed to the Turks.
– -(HENRY JOHN TANCRED.)

The third a Scotch Terrier stricken in years,
"Who" some saucy dog screamed, in my wondering ears,
"Though often in battle, yet never was wounded,
"And still is alive, although once he was drownded."
– -(COLONEL CAMPBELL.)

Now the first two went off, much like weasel asleep,
In the desert to watch, over cattle or sheep,
And the terrier came forth, as wise as an owl,
And his mongrel assembly raised up a loud howl,
"See how bravely our dog wears his ribbon and collars,
"See what very nice bones for each bully that follows,
"Cheap kennels! cheap bones! of short commons no danger,
"All dogs if they please, shall be dogs in the manger,
"Those other two dogs do not merit your bark
"They are seeking to give you a bite in the dark,
"And to mock you by sending for men who wear tails,
"Who curtail in small shoes their young ladies' toenails,
"Can't say 'bow wow' in English, eat rice grown in bogs,
"Which they flavour with birds' nests, and fat little dogs!
"If they sent for a troop of industrious fleas,
"'T'were not half such a curse as the horrid Chinese."
Away stayed the bloodhound, and back came the watchdog
But, almost too late to outflank the old Scotch dog,
Till at length the poor terrier was fairly outbid,
When his foe snubbed celestials, as other dogs did,
Then we underwent flattery, threats and defiance,
Unfriendly disrupture, unholy alliance,
Nonsensical claptrap in sounding orations,
And unconstitutional associations,
Every wretched dog's life was a dog's life indeed,
For whether of spaniel or pig hunting breed,
He was sure to be fawned on or barked at all day,
The cupboard was bare, if he voted one way;
Since his master had threatened to give him the sack,
If he didn't he'd cold shoulder get from the pack;

How to judge, though for judgment a regular Daniel,
Whether best one should vote with the bulldog or spaniel,
We changed our opinions, and changed them again,
As much like vain dogs, as a vessel's dog vane.
How it ended, I really don't know and dont care,
For I soon got as cross as a sore headed bear,
And I grumble whenever I hear the bare name
Of the head of the poll or electoral claim.

Well, they tell me, that not such bad dogs after all,
Have been chosen for each empty kennel or stall,
My humour and health both begin to feel better,
So I'll just give the members, to finish my letter,
Advice which one candidate boldly defined,
(Although Wellington's own as the very best guide
To a youthful M.P. for the house that he sat in,)
"Know your mind! Mind you speak it, and never quote Latin."

E. J. WAKEFIELD.
September, 1853.

In July, the election for Superintendent took place. The candidates for the office were Mr. Fitzgerald, Mr. Tancred, and Colonel Campbell. Result of the poll – Fitzgerald 135, Campbell 94, Tancred 89; so Mr. Fitzgerald was elected our first Superintendent. Here is a quotation from the Lyttelton Times, after the election: –

"We congratulate the electors on their choice of one of the first Canterbury colonists, and a man well known to them all; Mr. Fitzgerald's experience in public business in England, and in the colony, his very active exertion, both here, and there, towards establishing the settlement, constitute strong claims for the preference which has been given him.

"Lyttelton was in a state of great excitement on the polling day; about ten o'clock, a procession was formed, headed by a band, led by a drum-major flourishing a broom; on two poles were displayed by

way of banners, a blue and a red shirt, surmounted by loaves of bread, of opposite dimensions, the large one intended to represent Colonel Campbell, and the flood of prosperity his election would secure; the smaller one, Mr. Fitzgerald, and the maximum of prosperity which his election would produce. Without intending it, the shirts represented the state and feelings of the Colonel's supporters at the close of the poll; the red shirt, the flush of temporary triumph, which the news from Akaroa threw them into (where he had a number of votes), and the blue shirt, the state of their looks when they heard their gallant candidate was (where he never was before) in the rear."

About the same time, elections of Members for the Provincial Council took place, but I will not describe them, as I do not intend to do more than mention the principal political events; but one remark I must make, and that is, that our elections in those days were better conducted than in the present; we had not then the pestilential element of "larrikinism" which is so rife now, and which makes many public meetings so objectionable, as witness the election of our City Councillors some little time ago, when Mr. William Wilson was returned at the head of the poll. I believe the finale was disgraceful.

In May of this year, 1853, our first market was established in Christchurch. It was held weekly, every Saturday, for the sale of stock and agricultural produce. The Market Place was the scene of operations, and there were over fifty persons present. "There was a considerable demand for wheat, which sold readily at 10s. a bushel; some good samples of barley were held at 8s., and oats at 6s. a bushel; potatoes, £4 to £5 a ton. In live stock, not much was done, some sales of pigs at good prices." An

excellent dinner was provided by Messrs. Ellis and Gartner, of the Golden Fleece, at the moderate charge of 2s. a head.

A Choral Society had been organised in Lyttelton some eight months, and they gave their first concert in June, which proved a complete success. The Society numbered about thirty performers, and owing to the energy of the conductor, and the aptitude of his pupils, bade fair to hold an honourable position in the public eye. There were nearly two hundred people present who, judging from their frequent applause, seemed to appreciate the performers' efforts.

In October, our first Provincial Council was opened. This was an epoch in the history of the Settlement, and deserves a full and particular description. The building that had been prepared for the future deliberations of the wise men had been first used as a printing-office; it was situated at the end of Chester street west, that small house next the river. It was a long low room, and had been papered for the occasion; the seats were covered with crimson cloth, and the Speaker's chair slightly raised from the floor. The house presented a very comfortable appearance, but I find the gentlemen of the Fourth Estate were not satisfied with their accommodation, as the following extract from the Lyttelton Times will show: – "A small space was devoted to the Reporters, indeed, the contrast between the comfort which Honourable Members had taken care to surround themselves, and the scant accommodation afforded to the Press, was very marked. We hope that Honourable Members will see that the Reporters' seats are railed off, and protected from the Sou'-westers which blow through the unweatherboarded planks." I believe they were made comfortable afterwards. There was

a very small strangers' gallery railed off, which was filled with ladies and the leading men of the Province. I happened to be in the same house not long ago, and could hardly realise that it could ever have been used as a Council Chamber. I thought, as I looked round, those old walls might tell many a story – printing-office, Council Chamber, and dwelling house for many families, verily the old house might write a book; but I am digressing. After attending Divine Service at St. Michael's, the Members proceeded to the House, and at ten o'clock took their seats; a few minutes afterwards, his Honor the Superintendent was announced, and was received by all standing. He bowed to the House, and then in a clear and impressive manner read his address, which was a masterly piece of eloquence. After giving a short but exhaustive sketch of the progress of the settlement up to that time, and laying down a well considered plan of operations to guide the Council in their future deliberations for the welfare of the Province, he wound up with a well deserved tribute to Mr. Godley. I give here a short extract from the beginning of his address: –

"Gentlemen of the Council – There is a certain solemnity in any event, which can occur but once in the life of any individual, or the history of a people; of such a character is the act which falls to my lot to perform, in addressing from this chair the first Legislative Assembly in the Province of Canterbury. You will feel with me that the language of ordinary congratulation falls far short of the dignity of the occasion, that it becomes me rather on my part, upon yours, and upon the behalf of the community whose interests are entrusted to our care, to acknowledge with deep thankfulness the goodness of Almighty God, that He has been pleased in the course of His

Providence to restore to us in this Legislature a semblance of the revered and tried institutions of our Native Land, affording to us thereby a guarantee of that most precious gift to a people – the inestimable blessing of civil and religious liberty."

I think most of my readers will agree with me, that this short extract shows what an eloquent speech was made at the opening of our first Council, which now, alas, has no successor. About this time, a scheme for building a Town Hall in Christchurch was mooted and found general favour, £1000 was required, £400 was soon collected in shares of £1 each, (in a future chapter I will report its progress). The arrival of the Ann, the first commercial steamer in our harbour, was hailed with pleasure by all, and a public breakfast was given to Captain Gibbs; it was an unmistakable expression of public feeling in the province, with respect to the importance of having steam established. In those days we were always giving breakfasts or dinners to somebody, or something, and undoubtedly, we were far more sociable and friendly than we are now; I suppose, naturally so, as we were but a small population, and most of us in the same rank of life. It is very different now; Christchurch is a large and populous town, and there are many grades of society; we have larger and grander ideas, but I do not think we are any happier than in those primitive days.

I saw an unusual sight in town the other day, a bullock dray with eight bullocks; it put me in mind of old times, when buggies, carriages, and dogcarts were unknown, and we were content to ride in a bullock-dray, which was very slow travelling, but very safe. I recollect an amusing story, told me by a genial parson, (it really happened here, but I have since heard, that the same story is told in Australia and America.) The said reverend gentleman was

driving a team of bullocks and dray to Christchurch, accompanied by a friend, who sometimes drove them.

Mr. R – – - began to shout at them in the usual way, "Get up, Redman," "Get on, Poley," "Come on, Captain," and so on, and cracking his whip vigorously, but the lazy oxen would not travel at their usual pace. Mr. R – – - apostrophised them still more, and I believe tried the effect of a little Greek and Latin, but all to no purpose; at last Mr. H – – - said, "It's no use, Sir, they won't go for you, will you kindly walk on, and I will try my powers of persuasion." Mr. R – – - walked on, and after a bit he looked round and saw the team coming along at a fine pace; when they overtook him, he said, "Well, Dick, you can make them go, tell me the secret." Mr. H – – - said "Well, Sir, I am afraid I used rather strong language, and treated them to an oath or two, and see the happy result."

CHAPTER VI.

CHAPTER VI.

I MUST claim the indulgence of my readers, as this chapter will be rather dry, but those who do not care for statistics may skip it. The question of communication between the Port and the Plains began to be much talked of in 1854, and numerous letters appeared in the Lyttelton Times, advocating various schemes. The cry of the public was, "we must have a road." It is true we had the Bridle-path, but that could hardly be called a road. I find that in August, Mr. Thomson, of Christchurch, succeeded in bringing an empty dray drawn by two horses, over the Bridle-path, this being the first conveyance that had crossed the hills between Christchurch and Lyttelton. A commission was appointed to consider the best plan to adopt. The means of transit which received their approval were these: – The Dray road, which was a modification of the Sumner road laid out by Captain Thomas, it was proposed to make shorter and less expensive by means of a tunnel passing 20 feet below the summit of Evans' Pass; this road, including a bridge over the Heathcote, would have taken 18 months to make, and would have cost £25,731. The other proposals of the commission were two lines of railway, either from Christchurch to Gollan's Bay, or from Christchurch to Lyttelton. The first proposed was not entertained, the second was a line of Railway 6 1/2 miles in length, passing Martin's cottage through a tunnel 1 1/4 miles long, in fact our present line of Railway; this would cost with 50 per. cent, added for contingencies £155,356, and

would take four years to complete, so as early as 1854 our railway was contemplated. Christchurch and Lyttelton nearly quarrelled about the transit question, and the City of the Plains, not content with calling itself a "Paradise," must needs call Lyttelton a "Wapping," and Lyttelton could not congratulate itself on being a compact little town, without calling Christchurch a "City of magnificent distances."

A census was taken this year, and I give the results, as they may be interesting to some of my readers. The gross population is given as 3,895, males 2,196, females 1699, of this number 565 were born in the Province. The returns also give a total of 7,221 acres of land fenced in, and the number in crop at 2,920. The stock as follows: – Horses 596, mules and asses 20, cattle 6, 363, sheep 99,245, goats 316, pigs 4,391.

I give the returns of the census for 1878 as a contrast. Population 91,922, freehold land 1,766,681 acres; total under crop 332,329 acres; in plantation of forest trees 4,784 acres; the total number of stock, horses 37,177, mules and asses 80, cattle including calves, 100,310, sheep including lambs, 3,560,301, the above table showing a wonderful increase in twenty-four years.

The Lyttelton Times made a great advance this year; it became a bi-weekly instead of a weekly paper, its size eight pages, and considering the paucity of news and the length of time we had to wait for Mails from England, it would have compared favourably with any country paper of the present day; one may trace the history of a people both socially and politically through the medium of the Press. "Unquestionably the power and importance of the public Press is one of the distinguishing features in the social condition of the most highly civilized nation in the Old World.

A public journal represents the opinion, not only of its writers, but of its readers; but while a public Press thus represents the public voice, it also acts directly and immediately as the teacher and guide of public opinion; and this action is powerful or feeble according to the ability, beneficial or hurtful according to the integrity or conscientiousness with which the task is performed."

In June of this year we lost a valued friend in Mr. John Deans of Riccarton, who died after some months illness, of consumption, brought on originally by a violent cold, caught when crossing the Isthmus of Panama. If energy and perseverance, rewarded by success, can exercise an influence to lead others on in the road to prosperity, neither William nor John Deans has lived in vain; they, whose example has encouraged the struggling and cheered the fainthearted on to renewed hope and exertions, have accomplished one part of the mission each of us is sent here to fulfil – to help our fellow man. Let us hope that the names of the Brothers Deans may ever occupy a place in the History of Canterbury.

I now pass on to 1855, and I find that efforts were made to raise a Patriotic Fund at the time of the Crimean War. The ladies of Canterbury also collected a fund for the sick and wounded. The amount subscribed for the Patriotic Fund was £997 9s. 4d., and the Ladies Fund £316 4s. 10d. The amount was sent to England, the greater part through the Bank at par. It speaks well for the liberality of Canterbury, that in those early days, when many of us found it a hard matter to make both ends meet, that so large a sum should have been collected; but we then, as now, always came to the fore when help was wanted, as witness our collection for the Indian Famine Fund.

Coal was discovered in 1855, at the Malvern Hills, and a local runs thus: – "The extent to which coal has been found within the Province, and is now coming into use in Christchurch, deserves more attention than it has hitherto received, especially considering the difficulty of obtaining fuel when the Papanui Bush is exhausted. Among the places where coal is burnt we may mention the Land Office, the Council Chamber, and the Royal Hotel. Drays are employed in bringing coal from the Malvern Hills to town, where it is sold at £5 a ton."

About the middle of the year our well-known genial old friend, Mr. John Ollivier, presented a petition to the Provincial Council in favour of the proposed tramway from Christchurch to Sumner. I have no doubt he spoke in his usual fluent pleasant manner on the subject. He moved a resolution to empower His Honor the Superintendent to employ all moneys in hand, and to raise whatever further supplies might be required, by debenture, to complete the same. Mr. John Hall, another old friend, then got up, and, in his usual clear and decisive manner, moved a counter resolution to the effect – "That the road from Christchurch should be metalled in part completion of the great line of communication between Christchurch and Lyttelton." Mr. Hall's amendment was carried by a majority of four, the voting being 12 to 8. So, even as early as 1854 a tramway was contemplated. An amusing parody was written shortly after, which I give in its entirety, as it is too good to cut: –

RAILROADIOR.

PROVINCIAL funds were falling fast,
When to the Council Chamber passed
A man, who held with red tape tied,
A paper, with these words outside,

His mouth half grinned, his eye with a wink,
Flashed like a blot of bright red ink,
And like a song, by Grisi sung,
These words fell from his well oiled tongue,
"Railroadior."

In Members' eyes he saw the doubt;
The objection to his scheme peep out;
Within "The Grand Idea" shone,
And he replied still pressing on,
"Railroadior."

"Try not the tunnel, "old hands said,
"Loose hang the boulders overhead,
"The work is long, the cost is high;
"Hang the expense" was his reply,
"Railroadior."

"Oh! stay thee," Christchurch said, "and spend
"Thy surplus cash upon this end;"
A mental thumb went to his nose,
In mute reply these words he shows,
"Railroadior."

"Beware the road along the tide,
"Beware the hole in the hill's inside;"
This was the public's parting prayer,
A voice said in an off-hand air,
"Railroadior."

So at the end of many a year,
The then Provincial Engineer
Surveyed the oft-projected track;
A sheet blew by, with printed back –
"Railroadior."

A tramway where the new road wound
Half buried in the soil was found,
And on a stick with red tape tied,
A paper, with these words outside –
"Railroadior."

There in the midst of rock and clay,
Useless, but beautiful it lay;
And scornful voices echoed far,
From Christchurch to the Sumner bar –
"Railroadior."

CROSBIE WARD.

CHAPTER VII.

CHAPTER VII.

IN my last chapter I came to the year 1855. Early in January of 1856, His Excellency Governor Gore Browne, Mrs. Browne, and suite, arrived in the Zingari on a visit to us. We were all in a tremendous state of excitement (we take a Governor's visit more quietly now). We all gave him the cordial welcome due to Her Majesty's Representative. The Council voted £200 for his reception. We held levees, attended dinners and concerts, and went through the usual routine of a Governor's visit. I find, on referring to the Lyttelton Times, that a dress concert was given in their honour, and His Excellency and Mrs. Browne were driven there and back in the first Hansom cab in Christchurch. It must have retired into private life soon after, as Hansoms did not come into use till 1862. The following is from the Lyttelton Times concerning the Vice-Regal visit: – "January 5th, 1856. – The visit of His Excellency has been hitherto attended with mutual satisfaction and pleasure. His reception has been that of an honoured guest. He has expressed himself most gratified at the kind and hospitable feeling evinced towards him. His general demeanour has won golden opinions from all classes, and there is every prospect of a warm attachment springing up towards him."

Both His Excellency and Mrs. Browne were exceedingly popular with us, and most deservedly so. They stayed till the end of the month, and then left, expressing themselves much pleased with Canterbury and her people.

The road question was much discussed this year. There were great fights in the Council about it, and at last a vote of £3000 was carried by a majority of two. The Executive resigned on this question, as they would not agree to carry out the vote of the Committee, to expend £3000 on the Bridle-path. There were various opinions published in the Lyttelton Times, for people were as ready to rush into print then as now-a-days: –

"I am of opinion that the Government is not justified in proceeding with the Sumner road, considering the means at their disposal, and I think it equally unwise to propose a fresh survey at a further outlay for the purpose of forming a temporary road, when the present Bridle-path can be made available with the money voted on Thursday.
"A VOTER AT THE ELECTION."

"The Sumner road must be made some day; but for the present improve the Bridle-path, and we shall be satisfied with that.
"SHORT AND SWEET."

"I beg to state my decided opinion, that the Bridle-path be made as a temporary road, if a hole through the hill cannot be made. Should prefer the hole, but would like to get over the difficulty somehow.
"W. A."

"Set a stoot hairt to a stae brae. Climb the hill, and send your baggage round by steam.
"SCOTUS."

There was nothing decisive done in 1856. The Bridle-path was kept in repair, and most people used it. The Sumner road was not opened till later, but that was never really satisfactory. We were always expecting to hear of some dreadful accident, and it was a wonder there were so few, as the "Zig Zag" was neither a safe nor pleasant road.

As I endeavour occasionally to show how land has increased in value as I proceed, I will quote the price obtained in those days: – "The sale of Town Reserves came off on Thursday at the Royal Hotel, where they were put up to auction by the Provincial Secretary, Mr. Joseph Brittan. They consisted of the Gaol Reserve, Christchurch (amount of land 3 roods 5 perches). This reserve was where Messrs Kempthorne and Prosser's establishment now stands. The store at Sumner (amount of land 3 roods 5 perches), upset price £410; Bricks Wharf, Christchurch (just below Madras Bridge), amount of land 25 perches, £75; Heathcote Wharf, 1 rood 12 perches, £10; Hospital Reserve, Lyttelton, 1 rood, 12 perches, £50. The upset price for the whole amounted to £655; the property realised £915. The Hospital Reserve, which was put up at the upset price of £50, realised £215."

What millionaires some of us might be now, if we had only invested our little all in town land, and kept it till the present time! It was in this year that our first wool ship sailed for England, an event that deserves to be chronicled. "The sailing of our first wool ship, the William and Jane, marks an epoch in our history, and her arrival in London with a full cargo will be an evidence of our advancement that cannot be questioned. When the English public are satisfied with the fact that the small population of Canterbury can, in the fifth year of its settlement, produce and export about £40,000 of wool, besides (after providing for its domestic consumption) a considerable surplus of agricultural and dairy produce, little doubt can then remain of the fitness of Canterbury as a field for immigration."

Now a few words on the subject of servants, a fruitful topic in the present day. They were very

scarce, and though ships were constantly arriving, they all seemed to get absorbed at once. Most of the girls were totally inexperienced in the ways of Colonial life, which was very different from English habits. The supply not being equal to the demand, they were extremely independent. The anecdotes I introduce here are not exaggerated, but are taken from real life. A married couple came to my mother for employment. They seemed as if they would suit, and she was about to engage them, when the man, who was short (and, like many little people, had a self-opinionated and conceited air), said: "Madam, before entering into an engagement with you, allow me to ask you one question." (He here assumed a solemn and dignified air.) "Do you believe in the amelioration of the working classes?" My mother replied she did not think they required ameliorating. As it was, they were too independent. He said: "Madam, it is the one great object of my life, and I will not serve those who do not sympathise with me in it." Needless to say they were not engaged.

A girl asked her mistress for a holiday, and went to Kaiapoi, where there was to be a public ball, and appeared in one of her mistress' dresses. A lady recognising the dress, at once wrote and told her friend in Christchurch. The fair damsel was much surprised, on going back to her place a few days after, to find that her services were not required any longer.

Another girl, who professed to be a good cook, was told to prepare a pair of roast ducks, green peas, and new potatoes for dinner. The ducks and potatoes made their appearance at table, looking very nice, but no peas. "Bring in the peas, Norah," said the mistress. "Shure, ma'am," said Norah, "it's inside the ducks, they are." And sure enough

there they were. When we first came over to the Plains we had a Maori woman as a help, to use an Americanism; she could bake bread and meat in the camp oven, and that was about all. She came one day to my father and said in a most insinuating way, "O mai (give me) pit tickets." My father said: "Pit tickets! My good Api, we have no theatre or opera here." She reiterated her request, and he, always inclined for a little fun, said: "Oh, dark-eyed daughter of a race of chiefs, would that I could comply with your request, and that we might together listen to the bewitching strains of Grisi and Mario." He then expatiated on the merits of Phelps and Macready. She listened for some time and then turned indignantly away, exclaiming "You no good." I followed her, curious to know what she wanted, and found out she wished for some biscuits, whereupon I gladdened her heart with some eight or ten of ship quality. The following extracts from a little book called "Literary Foundlings" (published for the benefit of a bazaar for the Christchurch Orphan Asylum) gives a very good idea of the miseries we endured: –

REMINISCENCES.

OH, the charms of a stroll in our nice little port,
When the crowds of new-comers are thronging ashore.
As we gaze on the victims our agent has caught,
We declare that we never can want any more!

"Ha, ha!" says a station man, raising his veil,
"There's a couple, they'll suit me exact to a hair;
"When they're settled a bit, I'll go up without fail,
"And engage them for fifty; that's lots for the pair."

And there jogs the farmer, who, six years ago,
Disconsolate landed with never a bob.
He is come from the plains for a bumpkin or two,
And looks a great swell on the back of his cob.

There's my lady, too, riding upon her grey mare –
The servant turned "Missis!" as big as you please.
"Oh, how wulgar," she minces, "Them ship people are
"But I s'ppose I must have one in spite of the fleas."

And list to those gossips – "The good time is come,
"And we've plenty: so lately in piteous case
"They'll be only too glad, for a moderate sum,
"To be nursemaid or cook, in our nice little place."

"All right," cries an old hand, who looks on the scene,
"But I guess you will soon sing a different song;
"And those folks, who are certainly not very clean,
"Though they're down in the mouth now, they won't be so long."

Ah, wizard! you've given the tables a turn;
See, those whity-brown faces are flushing with pride;
And we're the poor folks who must wash, sweep, and churn,
Or eat humble pie, as we stand by their side.

There's our sturdy up-country man down on his knees:
Or at least, he's a look that he ought to be there.
"Oh, if fifty won't do, you may have what you please;
"Only come for a little, and try what we are."

And our very fine lady, who must have a "gall,"
Though I'm certain she'd really be better without
"Will thirty, will forty pounds do, Miss? You shall
"Have an evening whenever you like to go out."

And how do our poor simple gossips appear,
As they range through the room not at all at their ease?
And 'mid a loud whisper of "What do they here?"
Very humbly petition for help, "if you please."

"A cook's place," cries one, "Well, perhaps, it might do;
"But you know I've been servant with forty and nine!
"Well, what do you give?" "Five-and-twenty for you,
"Who are strong and can work hard." "Then I must decline."

"Five-and-twenty, indeed!" and she turned on her heel,
With a bounce that nigh frightened our gossips to fits.
"I suppose they don't think that young ladies can feel?
"And fancy we land here without any wits."

And what is the moral? Away with your tears!
Don the apron of freedom, and dust your own shelves!
Spend the wonderful wages on pin money, dears.
Leave the ladies alone, and be servants yourselves.

Another extract from the same little book is in the form of a letter taken from "Colonial Groans," addressed Dr. Pangrumble: –

"DEAR SIR, – I never grumble or groan, and why I come to you I don't know; but if ever a poor creature had a right to do so, I am the woman. My husband read some wonderful papers sent home by his brother from Canterbury about an Agricultural Show, and the weight of the sheep brought him out, – bringing his poor family to a land where the sheep are large and the houses small. I will say nothing of the voyage, the landing, or the journey to Christchurch. I have been here some months, and though not given to low spirits, am nearly worn to a shadow. I am informed if I venture to make a remark to a friend on the hardships of my life, 'Oh, it is nothing; think of what we endured – not a house – not a cart – not a servant; burnt out, washed out, blown out of our hut.' What comfort is that to me? I have, it is true, a pretty comfortable home, if one did not hear every sound, smell every bit of dinner, and get steamed on washing day. But I am not given to grumbling, though I did keep my three servants at home, and my dear papa had more. But Mr. Woolyman never took his proper position. I used to know my neighbours at home, but here no one knows me, or comes to see me, a few made a formal call, but I may die of dulness for the next year or two. Now comes my great trouble, my dear doctor. I am looking for a servant – not that this is a novelty. I have had ten in three months. My first, whom I engaged at colonial wages, informed me she always

liked the afternoon to herself; she, therefore, each day, went out about five o'clock, returning about nine, and she always took the whole of every alternate Sunday. We parted at the end of a month. Then came Biddy O'Shea, who had never seen a 'flure;' who cleaned my knives with blacklead, my silver with emery powder; who, failing to draw a fowl, sent it to table au naturel; on my observing that in England we took out the inside, she sent the next to table cut in half, and said, 'Shure and that's the only way to do it.' Then came many others, only to depart; among them young ladies who required Thursdays for their dancing lesson, whose friends when I opened the door asked for Miss – – -.

Others who objected to get up before seven or eight o'clock; and others who read novels in bed till daybreak. Others who, when I once went from home, put the children to bed at five, and had a little dance and supper. But I could bear it all, if I could comfort myself with a little chat; but the ladies of Canterbury never talk of their servants, or their neighbours; they are women of mind, and above such trifles; they have their schemes and institutions; they cannot waste their energies on more than one object, and are all more or less opposed to each other's hobby. * * * * * * * * * * *

But I do not like grumbling, it is not my nature; still, if time were not so precious, I could tell a few more troubles that press on the temper of

"Your poor friend,
"CHARITY WOOLYMAN."

This letter was written two or three years later, but answers very well for 1856.

CHAPTER VIII.

CHAPTER VIII.

I BEGIN this chapter with a description of our usual means of going to balls and parties, for we had them, though the gentle reader may not think so; when the distance was not too great, we would walk, our dresses tucked up, well shawled, and well goloshed; when too far for walking, a bullock dray would be called into requisition, bags filled with, straw and covered with red blankets, would form our seats, with plenty of rugs. This may sound odd now, but it was very comfortable.

I remember going to a large party, and spending a very pleasant evening; about four o'clock we tore ourselves away from the festive scene, but what was our consternation on finding that our horse could not be found, he had broken his tether rope, and gone home. There was nothing to be done but walk about three miles over a rough and swampy road, in kid shoes. I wonder if the two gentlemen who escorted us, remember that memorable walk. We passed through Christchurch in broad day-light, and felt we had a sort of up-all-night kind of look.

I have often ridden to a ball, with my dress strapped to the side of the saddle; those were jolly dances, no formality or cliqueism; we usually kept them up till morning; there were no wall flowers, ladies were scarce, and gentlemen plentiful, and I have often had to divide a dance between two of my partners; our music was a piano and cornet, with sometimes a violin.

There was an amusing anecdote told of a "new chum," I believe it was true: the said newly arrived gentleman went to a ball, given by a lady not far from Christchurch, a horse was lent him, and he rode up; on arriving he was told where to put his steed, in a paddock close to the house, with the other guests' horses; he took off saddle and bridle, and turned him out. After spending a delightful evening, he and his friends thought it time to go, so he sallied forth to catch his fiery untamed steed; after a while he came back to his friends, (who had caught their horses, and were saddling them by the light of a lantern), leading an animal; some one called out, "I say old man, your horse's ears are grown;" he looked at his steed, and behold it was a donkey. "By Jove," he said, "That's deuced funny, but it was the only animal my bridle would fit." I wonder which looked the greater donkey of the two. Whether he got his own horse afterwards, deponent sayeth not.

A party of friends were returning from a ball one night, when one of the ladies lost her golosh in a big mud-hole near the old Post-office. A gentleman who had some English papers in his pocket, just arrived by the mail, rushed to the rescue (need I say he was the devoted one), and lighting a match, burnt the whole of them trying to find it. He was successful in two ways: he found the golosh, and won the object of his affections. They were married shortly after.

I now turn to a very different subject. I find in the Lyttelton Times the following local: – "By the last emigrant ship the authorities received a consignment of about half-a-dozen volunteers from the London Constabulary Force, who have emigrated to serve in our Police Force for a certain period. They came opportunely, as shortly after a highway robbery

was committed near the Royal Hotel. A man of the name of Nelson was knocked down, had his jaw broken, and was otherwise severely handled; he was robbed of his watch and several other things. Shortly after, a house was broken into on the Papanui road, in the absence of its inmates, and some money taken. The police soon found the culprit, who turned out to be a man of the name of Alfred Ronnage, who had been loafing about with no visible means of support. He was committed to prison to take his trial, but got so violent that he had to be heavily ironed. He possessed cunning enough to escape repeatedly from prison by eluding the vigilance of the warder on the road-works, but was never able to escape altogether. He was so desperate a character that we were seized with a general terror when we heard that Ronnage was out again. For each attempt to escape he received an additional term of imprisonment, and it seemed as if he would pass his life in Lyttelton Gaol. He professed reformation at last, and was on his best behaviour for a year, and was then allowed to leave the Colony.

In December, 1856, the Egmont arrived, bringing Bishop Harper and family. The Bishop was formally installed on Christmas Day, a fitting season for such a ceremony. He has been our Bishop now for nearly twenty-three years, and may I add my tribute of respect to him as a consistent Christian, a kind friend, and a good Bishop. We shall never regret the day that brought him and his family amongst us.

Early in January our Annual Race Meeting took place, and proved a great success. The Racecourse, which was well chosen, was used for the first time; it lay a pleasant distance from town; the road, for some distance, passed-by comfortable farms, houses, and cultivated fields, and wound by Riccarton Bush,

whose trees and birds were the delight of our eyes and ears. There was not much sign of civilization beyond Riccarton, and we soon came to a vast grassy plain, with nothing to break the monotony of the view but an occasional Ti-tree. Our glorious snow-covered mountains formed a back ground, their white peaks distinctly marked against the blue sky; the sunlight glistening on their snowy sides rendered them a sight which made us feel our adopted country had a beauty and grandeur peculiarly her own. Here, in the midst of vast space, bustled a dwarfed race of excited mortals; there, jockeys and their accoutrements; there, would-be jockeys and their would-be accoutrements; here, a showy costume; there, a splendid clothed horse; here, a habit and plume and bright eye. There was novelty in the scene of unlimited freedom, even to the inhabitant of wide-spreading Christchurch, much more to the "cabined, cribbed, confined" townsmen of Lyttelton. Below is the result of one of the Races.

January 27, 1856. – Hurdle Race for £18, 10s., added to a sweepstakes of £2 each. Two miles, over 6 flights of hurdles.

Mr. Smart's bh. Tamerlane (Jannaway)...... 1
Mr. Lawrence's bg. Wild Dayrel (owner)...... 2
Mr. Caverhill's br. f. Child of the Mist (Mr. Leach)..... 3

There were more races, but I have quoted enough to show what they were like. Nearly everyone rode, and the great excitement was riding to see the start, and then dashing across full gallop to the winning post to see the finish. Of course they will not bear comparison with the races of the present day, but we enjoyed them more, as the horses were generally the property of intimate friends, and often ridden by gentlemen one knew well. The Races are now so much a matter of £ s. d. that one cannot

take the same interest. Ham, the home of our friends, Mr. and Mrs. Watts-Russell, was not far from the Course. They were both hospitable to the last degree, and we used to end the day with an impromptu dance there. She has left us for her English home; he, alas, has "gone to that undiscovered land, from whose bourne no traveller returns," but his memory is still green with us. We shall never forget our genial good old friend, the master of Ilam. I must also mention Green Hamerton, the home of Mr. and Mrs. Cookson, how hospitable and kind they both were to strangers as well as friends; many of the Pilgrims will remember the pleasant hours spent there. Both Mr. and Mrs. Cookson were always ready to help in any good work; her name is closely associated with the Female Home, she and other ladies established this Home, which did a deal of real good in the Colony at that time. A feeling of sorrow steals over me as I write, "The leaves of memory seem to make a mournful rustling in the dark." Those dear friends have both passed away from among us, but we think of them with regret; they are not forgotten.

At that time, when hard work was the order of the day, and there were but few amusements, it was well that we were able to visit homes where the refinements of life were kept up; some amongst us were better able to do so than others. Strangers have often remarked, "Canterbury is so English." May we not attribute this in a great measure to those early days when we all did our best to keep up the standard of morality and manners, and to create pure types of English homes?

I will close this chapter with a short description of Christchurch in 1857. The Provincial Council had now its head-quarters in Christchurch, the Council

Chamber, the Land Office, the Superintendent's Office were all there. There was an agency of the Union Bank established; also a branch Post Office, about a dozen general stores, three hotels, viz., the Golden Fleece, the White Hart, and the Royal Hotel, and a good number of private houses. We had a wind-mill, two water-mills, three breweries, one printing office, a nursery garden, and an iron foundry, started that year by Mr. Anderson, in Cashel street. An exceedingly good parody, written by Crosbie Ward, gives a vivid picture of this illigant city: –

THE TOWN OF CHRISTCHURCH.

Air – "Groves of Blarney."

Oh, the town of Christchurch
Is an illigant mixture
Of road and pasture,
And swamps and sand.
So widely stretching, in every direction,
From Brittan's section
And Caulfield's land.

Of fifty twenties
The whole extent is,
Of English acres,
All in a square.

And plenty of space is
In vacant places;
With patches of praties
Lying here and there.

Oh, when you enter
You're in the centre
Of houses in plenty,
On every hand.

There's more than twenty,
Both full and empty;
And the Superintendent's
Is very grand.

And there's many a mansion
Of grand expansion,
And some I could mention
That could not be beat.

And there's tidy villas,
With weeping willows;
And one with pillars
In Cashel street.

Oh, that's the location!
That's the admiration
Of the population
Both far and wide.

For in two rows neatly
All down the street, the
Houses stand in it,
On every side.

And there's loud resounding
From the iron foundry;
And the Union Bank
Has an office there.

And there's Mister Packer,
And there once was Thacker;
But Doctor Barker
Is in Cathedral square.

Now, them that governs
This noble Province
Has a gorgeous office,
That you'll admire.

But the way into the building
Is most bewildering:
So the officials and children
Slip through the wire.

And then there's verandahs
Above two of the windows;
But the other end is
Entirely bare.

And there's a big sun-dial,
Stuck up for a trial
How long the sky '11
Continue fair.

Now, the rooms are spacious,
And multifarious;
The Chief Secretary is
Under the tiles.

But the elegant chamber
Of the Legislature
Is the grandest feature
Of this noble pile.

And a new and grand set
Stands over against it
(Though they're not commenced yet),
On the other side

Of the River Avon,
That, through flax leaves waving,
Is the watercress laving
With her silver tide.

But long is the narration
Of the situation,
Which my poor genius
Cannot entwine.

But were I the writer
Of the Christchurch paper,
'Tis in every feature
I would make it shine.

December, 1857. C. W,

Before closing this chapter I must say a few words on the amusements of that time. Cricket had been kept up since the first Anniversary Day, but in 1857 did not appear to be flourishing. In Lyttelton a choral class was established, by whom music was supplied to the Church, and occasional concerts given to the public. A singing class had been started in Christchurch by Mr. Merton, for the practice of glees and madrigals, and proved a success. Two billiard-tables had been imported, and were erected at the Royal Hotel, whereby the hearts of the nobler sex(?) were made glad. Mr. Foley's Circus was really the only amusement we had for some time, and I can assure my readers his arrival created great excitement amongst us; he performed in Christchurch, Lyttelton, and Kaiapoi. The clever little mare Lucy who did such wonderful things, the graceful riding of Miss Tournear, the funniments of Mr. Merriman, and the tumbling and riding of Master Bird were highly appreciated by us.

CHAPTER IX.

CHAPTER IX.

THE subject of part of this chapter will be the description of that great event, so famous in our annals, the opening of the Sumner road by Mr. Fitzgerald our Superintendent, on August 24th, 1857. The proceedings attendant on the ceremony were characterised by simplicity and success. The procession assembled at ten o'clock in Christchurch, a band playing, banners waving, &c. Many a horseman tightened his girths in anticipation of the unknown, and therefore fearful dangers. The dog-cart, which was destined to become famous in our history, as the first vehicle to face the adventurous journey, received its precious freight about half-past ten o'clock; the Illustrious Four, who ventured their lives for their country's good, were James Edward Fitzgerald, Charles Bowen, Richard Packer, and John Marshman. His Honor, not content with two horses harnessed as a pair, indulged in the pleasures of a tandem, (my experience of tandem driving is, that the leader is given to turning round and staring one in the face, which would have been decidedly dangerous on the Sumner road); however, His Honor was a first-rate whip, and they started towards the Ferry. A four wheeled conveyance bore the band, and a crowd of horsemen followed; they reached the Heathcote, and while the numerous "cortege" were crossing the river in the large punt, eight at a time, the tandem with its precious freight got a good start and reached Sumner in safety. A triumphal arch was erected across the road, luncheon was provided

at the Inn, and the whole party took their ease and lunch at the same time. From Sumner to Lyttelton the perilous journey commenced. His Honor and party again started; there was a sandy flat to cross, it was crossed; there was a steep hill to climb, it was climbed. Here the party from Lyttelton joined them; there was a steep pinch to surmount, it was surmounted, and the dog-cart stood on the top of Evans Pass, and the harbour of Lyttelton lay below; so far well. Beneath the Pass the road led away in a series of zig-zags, not by any means inviting, and down these the dog-cart went, Mr. Fitzgerald still driving; but the passengers evidently thought that discretion was the better part of valour, and preferred walking to the foot of the zig-zag. After this sketch had been published in the Canterbury Times, the next number had the following notice, written by the "Feuilletoniste"

"Apropos of matters of historical interest, although not identified with the early days of Canterbury, I have been reading with pleasure, a series of papers in the Canterbury Times by 'Pilgrim.' In one of these he describes the ceremonies connected with the opening of the Sumner road; this has brought another ancient Pilgrim to the front, who in the columns of the Ashburton Mail adds his testimony, alluding to the fact that the then Superintendent of the Province drove tandem over the road; Pilgrim No. 2 takes up the running thus – 'the passengers were not alone in thinking discretion the better part of valour, for His Honor, whether or not he was a first-rate whip, was too glad to get the passengers to let him down easy with ropes; he was still driving, but like a Governor under responsible Government, he ruled in the leading strings of Bowen, Packer, Marshman, and Co.'" This I believe was true.

And now to resume my subject. All danger was over, and in Lyttelton, about two o'clock, the procession arrived safe and sound; there was a triumphal arch of banners over the road, and under this the dog-cart that had braved the perilous journey passed with the "Illustrious Four," with an attendant squadron of gay cavaliers, along London Street, receiving the congratulations of the inhabitants. The end of any great public holiday is invariably a feed where Englishmen are concerned, and a dinner was considered a fit conclusion to the ceremony of opening the Sumner Road; about 200 people sat down in Mr. Heapley's new room at the Universal Hotel, and thoroughly enjoyed their sumptuous banquet. The declaration of a free passage by land between Christchurch and Lyttelton formed a happy moment for mutual congratulations.

The following parody was written about this time entitled: –

ROAD LINES.

Believe me if all these tremendous big holes,
Which I view on the causeway to-day,
Were to-morrow bridged over with scrub and with poles,
And craftily covered with clay.

Thou would'st still be no use as this moment thou art,
Let the Government say what it will,
For thy precious zig-zags, are too steep for a cart,
And we're hopeless of holes in thy hill.

It was in this year our Superintendent, Mr. Fitzgerald, who had been in failing health for some time, declined to stand for the office again, and settled to return to England to avail himself of further medical advice. A deputation of the leading men of the Province waited on him, with a memorial signed by nearly everybody, expressing their sorrow for the cause of his departure (i.e. his illness), and testifying

their sense of the great ability, zeal, and singleness of purpose which always characterised his administration of the arduous duties of his office; a testimonial was raised and presented to him, amounting to about £481. Both Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald had highly cultivated tastes, and did much for the cause of music amongst us, the enjoyable musical and literary evenings that many of us have spent at their home will ever be remembered with pleasure. I look back to those social friendly re-unions at each other's homes, and think how much good they did us. Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald left, followed by the regret of all; and we hoped that his health might be restored, and that we might soon welcome him back to Canterbury.

This excellent parody written soon after his departure, is very amusing: –

BALLAD OF THE ANCIENT MEMBERS.

"Quorum pars magna Fui."
AIR – "Ben Bolt."

Oh, don't you remember, Fitzgerald, my boy,
Fitzgerald, who used so to teaze,
Who soaped us all down, when we wanted to frown,
And frowned when we most wished to please.
The wind blows fresh on Fitzgerald, my boy,
As he ploughs through the salt sea foam,
Oh, I'd like to ship for the same sort of trip,
And be paid, my old boy, to go home.

Oh, don't you remember the chamber, my boy,
Our first Parliamentary shop,
With the skylight above, and the four bare walls,
And the rain pouring in at the top.
There, Bills we could quietly pass, my boy,
And Bills we could quietly shelve;
But we've to mix among twenty and six,
Instead of the olden twelve.

And don't yon remember J. Brittan, my boy,
The eloquent Secreta – ry,
Who managed things here, after turning you out,
And was then tumbled over by me.
In the country far distant from town, my boy,
All desolate, drear, and. alone,
Some people exist among tussocks and sheep,
And Brittan looks after his own.

And don't you remember our stormy debates,
And the nice indiscriminate way,
In which bitter antagonists over-night
Would vote side by side the next day,
There were numbers who sat on the Government seats,
In the jolly days gone by,
But of all the men who were Ministers then,
There remain but you and I. 3

And don't you remember old Sewell, my boy,
And Cass smiling gaily at care,
And Hamilton the spark, and Aylmer the clerk,
And Simeon the first in the chair,
There's a change in the men that we talk to, my boy,
There's a change may make us look blue,
But I don't think you see any change in me,
And I see no change in you.

CROSBIE WARD.

A most interesting event took place on July 24th., 1857, the foundation stone of Christ's College was laid. A ceremony service was held at St. Michael's, and the Warden, Sub-Warden and Fellows of the College, walked to the proposed site, and the act of foundation was performed by His Lordship the Bishop of Christchurch, Warden of the College. A Psalm concluded the ceremonial service which

was simple and striking, and as the harbinger of many good works to be performed through the same instrumentality, bore a deep significance to the beholders. It was a wild looking spot then – twenty years have made a wonderful difference. I could not help contrasting the two views, past and present (on our 28th Anniversary) from Hagley Park; the space where the College buildings now stand was then covered with tutu, fern, and yellow tussocks, no fences, and only narrow paths worn through the undergrowth, the banks of the river fringed with tall flax and rushes. The present view – a spacious pile of buildings of various styles of architecture, a fine play ground for all sorts of manly sports, the Master's gardens bright with flowers, soft green lawns sloping to the river's edge, luxuriant willows drooping gracefully over the water. Lovers of the beauties of nature will find much to admire on going up the river Avon. I was coming down in a canoe lately, and was much struck with one particular view: a picturesque bridge in the foreground, the different tints of green from the trees and shrubs, the sombre blue gums being a good contrast to the lighter shades of green, the river reflecting the deep blue sky and fleecy white clouds, and glimpses of the distant hills all combined – showed that Canterbury can vie with most of her sister colonies (though they may have greater natural advantages) in pretty home-like scenery.

The following was a pretty poem written on the Avon in 1854.

THE RIVER AVON.

I LOVE thee, Avon! though thy banks have known
No deed of note, thy wandering course along;
No Bard of Avon hath poured forth in song
Thy tuneful praise; thy modest tide hath flown

For centuries on, unheeded and alone.
I love thee for thy English name, but more
Because my countrymen along thy shore –
Have made new homes. Therefore not all unknown
Henceforth thy streams shall flow. A little while
Shall see thy wastes grow lovely. Not in vain
Shall England's sons dwell by thee many a mile.
With verdant meads and fields of waving grain,
Thy rough uncultured banks ere long shall smile;
Heaven pointing spires shall beautify thy plain.

J.

In November o£ this year, elections became the order of the day; I need not enter into particulars about them, more than to say that the first election was for the Superintendency. The two candidates were Mr. William Sefton Moorhouse and Mr. J. Brittan; state of the poll, Moorhouse 727, Brittan 352; majority for Moorhouse 375; so Mr. Moorhouse was elected our second Superintendent. The election for members for Christchurch came off at the same time. The announcement of the poll for the Superintendency drew together a good number of electors, and the town was quite in a bustle. The following was the result at four o'clock: Packer 165, Bishop 160, looks 152, Cass 96, Hart 95, Pritchard 82. The last hour of the polling was most exciting, Messrs. Cass, Pritchard, and Hart were running one another close for the fourth place; finally Messrs. Cass and Hart drew somewhat in advance, and every exertion was made by the friends of both parties, polling man for man; during the last quarter of an hour intense excitement prevailed; at four o'clock the poll closed, giving Mr. Cass a majority of one.

I have not said anything about land in this chapter, but will conclude by giving an extract from the markets on the price of land: –

"Land, stock, and stations are rapidly rising in value. We note the sale during the week of Mr. Burke's run in the Timaru district, comprising 50,000 acres, 2,000 sheep, and improvements, for £5,500. Another run, unimproved, of 20,000 acres, on the Rakaia, for £1,200. Mr. Thompson sold by auction at Christchurch two quarter-acre sections at the corner of Tuam street and the South Christchurch road. One section having a frontage on Tuam street fetched £88; the other, a corner section, with two frontages and a building on it, brought £382."

I suppose the section sold for £88 would be worth £2,000 now.

3 The second Provincial Council was opened at the beginning of 1858. The first under Mr. Fitzgerald's Superintendency had been presided over by several Executives, but none of the Ministers known to that Council were re-elected to the second, except Mr. John Hall and Mr. Richard Packer.

CHAPTER X.

CHAPTER X.

IN my last chapter, I omitted two most important events – the opening of our first Theatre in Lyttelton, and the opening of the Town Hall in Christchurch. I intended to compress the whole of 1857 into one chapter, but found it impossible to do so, it requiring more space than I anticipated. Mr. Foley, whom I mentioned in a former chapter, as having brought a circus here, became more ambitious, and turned the Town Hall at Lyttelton into a Theatre. The following is the advertisement that greeted our admiring eyes one morning: –

THEATRE ROYAL, LYTTELTON.

MR. FOLEY has the honour to inform the public of Lyttelton, that the above establishment will be open for a series of dramatic performances. He assures them, that neither pains nor expense has been spared in the fittings and decorations, and with the assistance of several gentlemen amateurs, he feels assured that the performances will not fail to please those who may honour him by their presence.

Mr. Foley will deliver an opening address, written for the occasion.

OVERTURE BY THE ORCHESTRA.

The performance will commence with (for the first time here) the MUSICAL BURLETTA,

"THE LOAN OF A LOVER."

Gertrude, with songs ............ MRS. FOLEY

To be followed with

"Villikins and his Dinah " .........W. H. FOLEY

The whole to conclude with the screaming farce of

"BETSY BAKER."

ADMITTANCE – Reserved seats 6s.; Gallery 4s.; Children 2s. 6d.

Good order will be observed. No smoking allowed. Babies in arms not admitted.

On the opening night, the Theatre was full to overflowing, there must have been at least 200 people present; it was an evening of great delight to all – Mr. and Mrs. Foley doing full justice to the pretty little burletta, and the arrangements for seating, lighting, &c, being very good. One amusing thing happened, I am not prepared to say whether it was the first night or not. In spite of the stern prohibition "babies in arms not admitted," the inevitable baby was smuggled in, and as it always happens in the middle of some touching scene, the delightful infant began to roar vigorously. Cries of "turn it out," "sit on it," were heard all over the house; the child was made to stop, but only to burst out again with renewed vigour. The manager at last stepped forward, and in an impressive manner said, "Ladies and gentlemen, unless the play is stopped, the baby cannot go on." Was this a deep bit of sarcasm, or a lapsus linguae?

The Town Hall was opened in Christchurch, on the first of October, by a public concert, conducted by Mr. Merton; the room was a handsome one, and exceeded the expectations of most of its visitors. The concert was a success, and great credit was due to Mr. Merton, for his choice of classical music, calculated to form a correct taste, especially amongst beginners. The instrumental pieces were very well performed, especially the Overture from Gluck's Iphigeni en Aulide; Mr. Packer's solo on the cornopean was deservedly encored; Hoenlinden was well sung by Mr. Merton, and re-demanded, as also was Mrs. Beechey's song Adelaide, which gave general satisfaction. The choruses and anthems were sung with good effect. The Hall was a good room for sound, as acoustic principles had been studied in its construction, and it made a splendid ballroom (many a dance have I had on that same "flure.")

An important event took place in January, 1858, namely, the laying of the foundation stone of the Government Buildings. An amusing article appeared in the Lyttelton Times about it, and I will give a few extracts: –

"The ceremonies to be performed to-day, on the occasion of laving the foundation stone of the Government Offices, are much more important than we had any idea of when we last mentioned the subject. The preparations made to add solemnity to the proceedings, and by a carefully constituted display of pomp and circumstance impress the minds of all beholders, having a gorgeous formality, and yet a bewitching mystery about them, which, taken in connection with architecture, made us think of nothing less than cloistered monasteries, and Gothic Cathedrals of the olden world.

"The programme of the procession has fallen into our hands, it is as follows: –

PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT BUILDINGS,
Christchurch, New Zealand.

ORDER OP PROCESSION
On the occasion of
LAYING THE FOUNDATION STONE
By His Honor the Superintendent,
On Wednesday, January 6th, 1858,
To form at the Church after Morning Prayer.

Police.
Merton's Brass Band.
Banner of New Zealand.
Justices of the Peace (two and two).
Banner of the Province.

Officers of Provincial Government (two and two).
Heads of Departments (two and two).
Clergy (two and two).
The Lord Bishop of Christchurch.
The Architects.
Usher of Provincial Council.
Clerk of Provincial Council.
Members of Provincial Council (two and two).
The Venerable Archdeacon of Akaroa (Chaplain to the House).
Clerk to the Executive Council.
Executive Council (two and two).
His Honor the Superintendent.
St. George's Banner.
Police.

"On arriving at the entrance, the procession will halt, and open to right and left to allow the Superintendent to advance between the ranks, the procession closing in behind him and entering the ground in inverted order."

The article goes on and makes a good deal of fun about the order of precedence and so forth, and concludes by saying – "But what will turn out, we expect, to be a more difficult task, is the opening 'to the right and left' (as directed in the concluding paragraph) in cases where there is only one unfortunate gentleman on the ground to open – a head of departments, for instance, walking two and two beside himself, will then halt, and open right and left, and stand vis-a-vis to allow the Superintendent to advance between him." Another complication follows the proceedings – "Close behind His Honor, the divided pluralist 'walks together and enters the ground arm-in-arm with himself,' – (but was Govern-

ment ever so hard on its officers?) – 'in inverted order, ' upside down, on his miserable departmental head."

The proceedings of the day were as follows: – It was observed as a grand holiday, and the site of the ceremony was conspicuous from a great distance over the Plains. A tall mast, upwards of 50ft. in height, was decorated with flags, &c. The preparations were designed and executed in high artistic style. The site was enclosed by a rail barrier, the uprights of which were continued up 12ft., and carried swallow-tailed pennants; the general outlines of the plan of the building were marked by flag-poles, each carrying a pennant. The Council Chamber entrance and clock tower were shown by the lofty mast above-mentioned, which was surmounted by shorter masts, each 40ft. high, carrying large pennants, blue and white at their summits; the central mast bore the Union Jack, with the flag of New Zealand below, and long strings of ships' flags (lent for the occasion) enhanced the animation of the scene; there was an enclosed gallery raised in tiers and provided with seats for the fair sex, of which there were a goodly number present. The colours were pink and white, and bouquets of flowers assisted to promote the general effect of the whole; altogether the arrangements were most artistic. The procession formed at the Church, in the order above-mentioned – the band first, the Superintendent bringing up the rear. On arriving at the entrance of the ground a halt was called, and the two lines separating to the right and left, His Honor passed between the ranks to the barrier, where he was received by the architects, Messrs. Mountfort and Luck, and conducted by them to the stone. A Psalm was then read, and a prayer appointed for the occasion offered by the Bishop. The Superintendent

then laid the stone; the hand struck up "Rule Britannia," and a salute of nine guns was fired.

His Honor then made a speech. He said that the duty had fallen to him, by virtue of his office, of joining in the celebration of an important event – the laying of the foundation stone of the principal public building in the Province. He congratulated all present on the unanimity that day displayed, and was glad to see so many of all classes and opinions agreeing to rejoice with one another on a state occasion. He then adverted to remarks made in the Lyttelton Times a short time before, referring to the programme, which he felt called upon to answer, because, though apparently humorous, under a disguise of fun, he thought there was a mischievous meaning. The Editor of the Lyttelton Times had written an article, in which he thought fit to insinuate that they were setting the General Government at defiance by displaying the numerical force of the Provincial officers. He thought this was an uncalled-for remark. He would take occasion to say, that so far from setting the General Government at defiance, he was determined to do all in his power to maintain the supremacy of the General Government. (Hear, hear.) With a few more remarks he concluded.

The Lyttelton Times said, in reporting the speech – "We cannot altogether pass over the allusion to us in His Honor's speech. We confess we were not prepared for the honour done us by so much notice. When we joke again we must endeavour to make our meaning intelligible to all."

The Provincial Council met on January 20th, for their ninth session. There were now twenty-six members. When they proceeded to the election of a Speaker, Mr. Ollivier proposed that Mr. Charles Bowen, senior, be elected Speaker. Mr. Fooks

seconded the nomination. The Clerk then put the motion, which was carried unanimously. The Superintendent, Mr. Sefton Moorhouse, then entered the Chamber and delivered an address. I need not give it, as it would take up too much space. I will quote one paragraph – "For a variety of reasons it has seemed to me expedient to call you together at this time, for the despatch of routine business, the enactment of one or two short Bills, and of some very simple yet important and highly necessary amendments of the "Waste Lands Regulation." These amended regulations I shall refer to in my next chapter, as they caused a good deal of excitement amongst us.

An amusing charade was written on the Council.

CHARADE.

The Council is summoned, the Speaker is there,
And our law-givers wise are met,
With potent, grave, and reverend, air,
In expectation set.

Oh, had I the brush of Douw or Vandyke,
Of Lawrence or Phillips, or even Van Eyck
(He who paints his old ladies so nice and so like),
Or a cast-off pen of Macaulay.

I might show how they looked and what they said,
How the wise ones dosed or the paper read,
And the busy ones came alway –
Each armed with a mighty paper scroll,
{My first) done up in a portentous roll,
Containing his private project fine,
For the cure of every want and crime,
Each social need of the place and time.
One by means of a tramway line,
From everywhere to nowhere;
And one for suppressing drunkenness,
Enacting – to save the labour –
That whenever a Colonist takes too much,

We should straightway fine his neighbour.
In short, so much of my first was there,
That our profoundest thinkers
Seemed to me (oh, pardon the idle rhyme)
Like twopenny postmen at Christmas time,
Or some new sort of Ornithorhynchus. 4
But now the time will soon be here,
When, no longer fancy free,
But sorry at heart and sick at head,
Bumping about on a villainous bed,
Till {my second) they'll surely be.
The chosen few o'er {my whole) shall steer,
From Lyttelton jetty to Manakau pier,
In the famous " Zingari."
Where I hope – though I scarcely dare to think
(For I can't quite all probabilities blink)
They won't make a mess of their statesmanship –
That they may be glad at home to stay,
In peace and quiet for many a day,
From the cares of office free.

S. R.

I leave my readers to guess the charade if they like, but tell them as a profound secret that I think it is – "Billow."

4 Note by Pilgrim: Or a beast with a bill.

CHAPTER XI.

CHAPTER XI.

THE subject that occupied the minds of the Provincial Councillors in the beginning of 1858, was the Amended Regulations for the Waste Lands, and not only were the Councillors interested, but it formed a general topic of conversation amongst us. I will not enter into particulars concerning them, but will here give what will explain them fully, the following parody, written by Crosbie Ward (when I write his name, I think of our great poet's words, which suit him well) –

I knew him well, Horatio: A fellow of infinite jest, and most excellent fancy, – Where be your gibes now? Your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table in a roar?

I give the parody in its entirety, there may be a few who have not read it, and others who will read it once more with pleasure, as it may recall many a merry hour spent with our dear friend, the author.

SONG OF THE SQUATTERS.

{After Longfellow.)

Would you hear a pretty story
Of our ancient Legislators,
Of our Statesmen in the old time,
Of the Councillors and wise men
In the very ancient age?
Shall I tell you how the Stockmen,
Crafty Squatters, subtle Shepherds,
From the Southward and the Northward,
From the deep and wide Waitangi,

From the changing Hurunui,
From the gloomy Harewood Forest,
From the icy Lake of Coleridge,
From the Country of Mackenzie,
From the regions of the Westward,
Came together down to Christchurch,
Entered the Provincial Council,
Made orations in the Council,
Begged, implored, and prayed the Council,
Coaxed the unsuspecting Council,
Hoaxed the simple minded Council,
Did the very wily Statesmen,
Humbugged, diddled, all the members,
And departed, laughing, chuckling,
With their thumbs up to their noses,
And their other fingers waving
To the Southward and the Northward,
To the deep and wide Waitangi,
To the changing Hurunui,
To the gloomy Harewood Forest,
To the icy Lake of Coleridge,
To the Country of Mackenzie,
Chuckling at the favours granted,
Grieving at the little asked for.

Do you ask me, whence those chucklings?
What might be these favours granted?
Who, these subtle, crafty Shepherds?
Who, the simple minded Council?
Statesmen, members, legislators?
I would answer, I would tell you
In a pretty little story,
Of the very ancient ages.

Oloware, the Secretary,
Sat within the Council Chamber,
On the crimson covered cushions,
On the Ministerial benches;
Pen and ink were placed before him;
At his side, a pile of papers;
On the floor, the bulky Blue Books;
In his hand, before him held he
"The Amended Regulations."

Tomicas, the Chief Surveyor
Sat upon the seat beside him,
On the crimson covered cushions,
On the Ministerial benches;
In his hand another copy
Of the "Waste Lands Regulations,
The "Amended Regulations."

All around the Council Chamber
Sat the six-and-twenty members,
Representing all the people,
All the districts of the Province;
Christchurch, Kaiapoi, and the Avon,
Akaroa and Rakaia.
Ashley, Lyttelton, and Heathcote.
Timaru and Port Victoria.
In their hands before them held they,
All the six-and-twenty members,
"The Amended Regulations."
Rose then Oloware the fluent,
The long-winded Secretary,
Spake such words of sounding grandeur,
Sentences so swift and rapid,
Phrases of such length and glibness,
That the boldest bowed before him,
Stopped his ear-holes with his fingers,
Wished himself outside the Chamber.
But to tell you his oration,
All the fervour of his genius,
All his ornamental language,
'Twould be longer, deeper, swifter,
And much harder to get over
Than the Rangitata River.
But before he ended, spake he
('Twas the pith of his oration):
"We have thought and deemed it proper
To throw open all the country,
By relaxing the conditions
Which have tied it up so closely,
And the Government doth ask ye
To assent to certain measures
(Those 'Amended Regulations'
Ye are holding now before ye)
Which relax the said conditions,

That have tied the land so tightly;
Tightly tied it, closely bound it,
From the ready-money buyer.
And the question is before ye,
Under your consideration.
Aye, or No, to pass those measures
The 'Amended Regulations.'
Thus he spake for twenty minutes,
Making frequent repetitions
And subdued reverberations
Like the dropping down of water
From a spout in rainy weather
Into some half-empty barrel.
When he stopped, rose Jonniol-tok,
Shrewd and subtle Jonniol-tok!
He the double-barrelled justice
Ever prompt to give opinions;
And at once he shoved his oar in
In his customary manner: –
"I assent to these proposals
With a trifling reservation,
Ye will sweep away conditions
Justly sweep away restrictions,
Which tie up the land so closely,
Only ye'll except the squatter
Will not touch the rights of squatters,
Of the shepherds and the stockmen.
Ye shall take the rights of farmers,
Of the millers, bakers, butchers,
Tailors, drapers, clothiers, hatters,
Soldiers, doctors, undertakers,
Of storekeepers and bootmakers,
Of all trades and occupations,
Of all persons in the Province,
But the shepherds, the runholders;
Them ye shall not touch nor injure."
Thus he spake and gave no reason
Shrewd and subtle Jonniol-tok!
And he left the other shepherds,
Squatters and the friends of squatters
To uphold him with their reasons;
For his words had done the business,
Woke desires were never dreamed of,
And a flutter passed among them

Lighting eyes with apprehension,
Opening mouth with expectation,
Consciousness of something coming-
Something of advantage coming;
And they took the hint and followed.
So the parson bird, the Tui,
The white-bearded songster Tui
In the morning wakes the woodlands
With his customary music.
Then the other Tuis round him,
Clear their throats and sing in concert,
All the parson birds together,
Or as sheep together huddled
On some river-bed of shingle
Of Rakaia or Waitangi,
Or the changing Hurunui,
Stand beside the flowing water –
Shrink beside the rapid water
And refuse to wet their fleeces;
Till one bolder than the others
Jumbuck of a forward nature,
Takes the stream as if he knew it
Tells them he knows all about it;
Then the others struggle after,
Struggle and plunge headlong after,
Wondering at their own presumption
So the shepherds, the runholders,
Followed after Jonniol-tok,
Their bell-wether Jonniol-tok.

Then spoke rugged Bobirodi,
The hard-headed one from Yorkshire;
He the prince of all the squatters,
Largest holder of runholders.
"Ye remember old Suellis,
Councillor with us of old time:
Crafty statesman, cunning prophet,
Who taught all of us our wisdom;
He arranged the matter for us,
And he said it should not alter,
Should remain as he had left it,
As he prophesied, so be it."
And the very big man, Stunnem,
Moving only eyes and shoulders,

Mutely making demonstrations, –
Saying nought was most impressive;
Then the shepherds in a chorus,
Squatters and the friends of squatters,
Begged, implored, and prayed the Council
To consider all their hardships –
How their rents were so oppressive,
How their wool was sold for nothing,
How they could not sell their wethers
For the paltry price of mutton,
How the market rate of stations,
Showed it was a losing business;
And they begged and prayed the Council
To maintain the old conditions
That had tied the land so closely,
Only on behalf of squatters
Sweeping quite away the others.

But the most effective reason,
Most conclusive in their favour,
Was the look that passed among them
All around the Council Chamber.

Few were bold enough to argue
In reply to Bobirodi
To the very big man Stunnem
To the subtle Jonniol-tok
And the few that stood their ground there
Stood their ground, and asked for justice,
Simple justice to all classes,
They were bullied and brow-beaten,
Called to order, reprimanded
By the big men, the stock owners,
Squatters, and the friends of squatters,
And the timid ones around them,
Who would fain be friends of squatters.
So the fluent Secretary,
Oloware, the rapid Speaker,
With his colleague sitting by him,
Tomicas, the Chief Surveyor,
Trembled on the crimson cushions,
Gave them all that they demanded,
Granted all the boon they asked for,
Never dared to ask objections,
For they feared the mighty squatters.

Then departed all the Stockmen,
Crafty Squatters, subtle Shepherds,
To the Southward and the Northward,
To the deep and wide Waitangi
To the changing Hurunui,
To the gloomy Harewood Forest,
To the icy Lake of Coleridge,
To the Country of Mackenzie,
To the region of the Westward;
With their thumbs up to their noses,
And their other lingers waving,
Chuckling at the favours granted,
Grieving at the little asked for,
And they kicked the farmer backward
From the fertile spots of country
In the region of the Westward, –
Never thinking of hereafter.

February, 1858. C. W.

The next sensation in the year was a large and influential meeting for the Indian Relief Fund, to consider the proper steps to be taken for affording relief to the sufferers by the Indian Mutiny; it was held at the Town Hall, Christchurch. There wore more than 200 people present of all classes. His Honor the {Superintendent took the chair, and the platform was occupied by the Bishop of Christchurch, the Archdeacon of Akaroa, and many leading men of the Province. Speeches were made by many present, the Bishop making a specially touching appeal to the sympathies of all. His Honor, Mr. Tancred, Mr. Ollivier, the Archdeacon of Akaroa, the Rev. Mr. Aldred, Mr. Hall, Mr. Cass, and Mr. Packer, all speaking well and strongly on the subject.

One gentleman said, "He hoped no one would think it sufficient to express sympathy without adding a contribution. He would, in that case, remind them of an anecdote concerning an old man

whose horse was the only means of subsistence for his family: the animal dropped down dead in the streets of the town; of course a crowd soon gathered round the poor man, and began to pity him loudly. Presently, a Quaker seeing the crowd, came up, and when he found what was the matter, joined in the pitying remarks; but he did something else; he asked a man near him, 'Are you sorry?' The man said he was very, very sorry. The Quaker asked again, 'But how much are you sorry? I am sorry two pounds.' The man took the hint, and the crowd seeing what was going on, followed the good example, and they were soon able to replace the horse the poor man had lost. - This was pulling out not only pocket-handkerchiefs, but something more solid too, out of their pockets, and he hoped all around him would do the same in the case before them."

A large Committee was appointed, and every effort made to raise a large sum for the fund. Amateur concerts were given, and subscription lists sent all over the country. In August the amounts collected came to £922 12s. 6d., which was remitted to England to Mr. Selfe, the Bank making no charge. I think my readers will agree with me that we did very well for the Indian Relief Fund.

CHAPTER XII.

CHAPTER XII.

THERE was not much in the year 1858 to call for special mention. We pursued the even tenor of our rather monotonous ways, till in October the Provincial Council met, and Mr. Sefton Moorhouse, our Superintendent, started the scheme of a railway between Christchurch and Lyttelton. The following is an extract from an able speech made by him at that time: –

"The want of a more perfect means of communication between our principal Port and the Plains, has been long a source of great embarrassment in the conduct of the commercial operations of the Province; having the advantage of a safe and commodious harbour, perfectly adapted to a very large commerce, the germs of which commerce are now starting into vigorous growth, it has become a matter of the very highest importance that you should consider the best method of securing the safe and expeditious transit of our marketable productions to the place of export. To this end I shall transmit for your consideration, a proposal to construct a line of railway from Christchurch to Lyttelton direct; this line would involve a tunnel through the heights beyond Lyttelton, and would, from the nature of the work, require a very large outlay of money; it will then remain with you to consider whether the ultimate advantage to be realised to the Province by the completion of the undertaking in question, would, or would not justify the required disbursement."

This tunnel, the level road from our fertile land to the ship side, the connecting link between the seaport and the interior, the throat as it were of the Province – this was an object worth spending money for; it was to cost £200,000 when complete, with the apparatus for working the traffic between the two towns; and with certain great works to be done in the harbour; it was to be completed in seven years. I believe it cost more than the sum I have just mentioned, as everything got much dearer before it was finished.

The proposal to attempt the construction of a railway between Christchurch and Lyttelton, and to make a tunnel through the hill was brought before the Council in due form. Without opposing the railway on its own merits, but with a good deal of quiet consideration of the subject, as to the shape in which it was proposed, and in a tone which showed they had well considered the subject, the discussion resulted in three practical resolutions: –

The first recommended that an Engineer should be sent out from England, and a liberal sum set apart for his services. The second appointed a commission of gentlemen, consisting of Messrs. Cass, Bray, Harman, Whitecoombe, Wylde, the Provincial Engineer, and the Provincial Secretary, to report on the most desirable lines of road to be purchased or reserved for the purpose of effecting railway communication throughout the Province. The third recommended that all information should be sent to England, and laid before any large contracting firm, who would be willing to undertake the work.

So the scheme for our first railway was started by William Sefton Moorhouse, and we may say that we owe it to his exertions that the railway and tunnel were completed, as he worked staunchly and un-weariedly, against a great deal of opposition, for

them. The railway question was vigorously discussed by letters in the papers; of course, it had its opposers, but what great work ever proceeds without opposition? – but the general feeling was, that it would be a grand thing for the Province.

There was a great deal of correspondence with England on the question, Mr Fitzgerald being very active in his exertions for our great scheme, although, I believe, he wanted the railway to Sumner, and a tunnel through Evans' Pass. On looking back, I cannot but admire the pluck and perseverance that carried the scheme through; it was a great work for a small settlement, only eight years old, to attempt to make a tunnel, a mile and a-half long through a mountain – a work which required the best engineering skill that could be got.

A charade appeared in the local paper called –

A CHARADE FOR THE TIMES.

(A straight line is the shortest distance between two points. – Euclid.)

MORN on the waters, purple and bright,
Bursts on the billows the flushing of light;
Bright in the beam it has caught from afar,
Sparkles the surge on the Sumner bar.
Struggling through mists with a mimic wrath,
Gleam the steep slopes of the Bridle-path.
Drooping his eyes, and wringing his hands,
On Lyttelton jetty a colonist stands.
What shall he do with his household gods –
His chairs and tables, his curtains and rods?
Greener than Erin's most verdurous turf,
Shall he trust them to Sumner's treacherous surf,
Or wearily drag them, box and bag,
By Evans' Pass or Gollan's Crag,
Over the slippery, steep zig-zag?
Ensphered in the Planet, or Wheeler and Nursed, 5
How – oh, how shall be moved my first?

But hark! the voice of cheerful bode –
Fitzgerald has opened the Sumner road.
Cheerily starts he with heart elate,
Case and package, bag, bundle, and crate,
Till he finds, as he nears the Sticking Point,
That the times and the road are out of joint.
See those carts of cruel stone;
Hark to the blaster's warning moan.
"Back from the path, ye ill-starred men,
Por the Sumner road is closed again!"
While the Christchurch bell, in mournful mode,
Tolls my last for the Sumner road,
And seems to foretell its own sad fate
To the colonist and its luckless freight.

Hurrah for the cure of all our ills!
Hurrah for the triumph of sturdy wills!
Double and treble our exports grow;
Northward, and southward, and westward ho,
Shall the stream of population flow;
Its halcyon days our land shall know.
When free from fear of tempest and tide,
My whole shall pierce the green hill side.

The answer to the above is – "Tunnel."

In March, 1859, a large sale of town and suburban land took place at Mr. Thomson's salerooms. Of the lots disposed of I quote a few items to show the value of land at that time: – "Twelve quarter-acre sections, fronting Hereford and Cashel streets, sold at the rate of £75 each; one quarter-acre at the corner of Hereford and Antigua streets fetched £105; another quarter-acre in Armagh street fetched £105; ten acres of rural land on the Avon sold at £30 an acre; about 15 acres of the Duke of Manchester's property at Riccarton sold for £50 an acre; a handsome, substantially-built house of seven rooms, and a quarter of an acre of land, at the corner of Kilmore street and the Market place, fetched £600."

I fear I am making this chapter rather dry, so, to enliven it, I will tell a few anecdotes about our balls. A bachelors' ball was given at the Royal Hotel in the large room; some of the married ladies were asked to act as hostesses, and one in particular, a young, handsome, fascinating woman, was doing her best to make the ball go off brilliantly, introducing gentlemen to partners, seeing there were no wallflowers or knots of black coats congregated near the door, as is their wont at a party. Soon after dancing commenced, a gentleman lounged into the room, evidently a "new chum," by his spick-and-span appearance, and "his chin new reaped showed like the stubble land at harvest home." He was a languid swell, and whisper ran round the room that he had just come from England, and was writing a book. We were awe-struck at the terrible thought he might put us in. Mrs. Blank, the lady I mentioned, who was always ready for a bit of fun, asked to be introduced to him; the ceremony was performed, and they began to talk, he first requesting the pleasure of a dance. After a few turns round the room, he remarked in a patronising manner – "Do you often have these little gatherings? (Fancy our disgust at having our ball called a little gathering.) "Oh, yes," said Mrs. B., "we occasionally indulge in a party." "And do all these people live here?" he inquired. "Yes, most of them live in Canterbury," was her reply. "But," he went on to say, "I suppose they are all staying in the hotel now; it seems a deuced comfortable place, I think I must come and stay here. What are the terms?" Mrs. B. saw it in a moment; he had taken her for the landlady of the house, and we were the boarders having a little dance. She kept up the joke for some time, and if the unfortunate would-be author had put all she told him in his book it would have been an edifying literary effort, as she

hoaxed him unmercifully. When she told him anything extraordinary, out would come his pocket-book, and he would take it down with all gravity possible. She passed him on to other partners; we all vied with each other in telling him – to use a slang expression – "crammers." One was, when he asked what we did for servants, some one said, we employed Maoris; the women had a natural genius for cooking, and the men were splendid footmen. And one lady said, "you know we always have them dressed in livery, and they stand behind one's chair at dinner; when you take me in to supper you will see what good servants they make." Then some gentlemen got hold of him, and told him marvellous tales about sheep, horses, and one said, "My dear fellow, can you sit a buck-jumper?" The unfortunate author said "he was sure he could, as he was a good rider." "Well," said his friend, "I've got a mare that I'll bet you a fiver you won't stick to for ten minutes. Yesterday I put the saddle on and was going to mount when she began to buck, and, by Jove, she bucked the saddle off without breaking the girths! 6 The next day I had a crupper put on, and mounted her, she had me off in two minutes, and bucked clean out of the saddle, bridle, and crupper; but I'll lend her to you with the greatest pleasure." Before the end of the evening the literary individual was undeceived, but I believe he was intensely disgusted with us all.

Another story on the same subject – a ball – occurs to me. A gentleman, just from England, met a lady at a ball, and was much taken with her. She was good-looking, well dressed, and her conversation above the average; but, alas, she was married. However, he made up his mind to call next day, and

renew the acquaintance. He was of the "Dundreary" school, rather "haw-haw;" not fond of work himself, he thought that women were only meant to do the ornamental, and did not trouble his head about the useful. She told him where they lived, and so next day, got up in irreproachable riding costume, he sallied forth on conquest bent. On reaching the paddock near the house, he saw a strange figure climbing the fence close to him; it was a woman, and she had on very thick clumsy boots, a short dress, a large hat, much the worse for wear, and thick gloves. She was carrying a bucket, and going into a newly-ploughed field, she began planting potatoes; and doing it well. To his horror he recognised his fair partner of the previous night. She looked up, and seeing him, called out, "Good afternoon, Mr. A.; I can't shake hands with you; suppose you come and help me for an hour." He muttered something about an engagement to dinner and rode away, saying to himself, "Fancy that lovely creature doomed to such a life! what a dem'd shame!" The lovely creature was enjoying a hearty laugh with her husband at the discomfiture of the swell.

I hope my readers are not tired, as I must tell one thing that happened to me at a ball. I was introduced to a gentleman, and he asked me to dance. He had just come from England, and was rather inclined to depreciate the Colony. I made up my mind to chaff him, and soon got a chance. On passing an old lady with a wizened face, and grey corkscrew ringlets, he remarked, "Hideous old parties like that ought to stay at home. I don't think old people ought to indulge in such dissipation." I said (without a smile), "Do you think so; I'll tell her what you say." He looked uncomfortable, and said, "Do you know her?" "I should think I ought to," I replied, "considering she is my mother." I pitied him, he looked so confused, and got scarlet, and

stammered out, "Very sorry; didn't know." Until pitying his confusion, I told him it was only a joke, but I noticed he was very careful to praise everyone, for fear they might be some relations of mine. We had a good laugh over it when we became better acquainted. He turned out a nice young fellow after all, in spite of his supercilious airs. I will end my chapter with a few verses from a poem called "Ode to New Zealand." In this I have been looking altogether on the bright side of the picture, this poem gives the reverse as to climate, &c.: –

A GROWL IN A SOU'-WESTER.

EDEN of the Southern Sea,
I devote my lay to thee –
Thee, of whom at home they tell
Things to make the bosom swell;
Thee, of whom in Crosby square
Loud lamentations shake the air.
Disbelieve, what mortal can,
The seductive tongue of gain?
So that men have christened thee,
"Eden of the Southern Sea."

Thee, whom praised by magic lyre
Of Hursthouse, men unseen admire;
Land of plains, and grassy swells,
Where the gentle Maori dwells;
Equal, save in copper face,
With the European race.
Strong in love, in Council brave,
Christian, chivalrous, and brave.
These are things they tell of thee,
"Eden of the Southern Sea."

Where the bee on drooping wing,
Laden with the spoils of spring,
Lays up so profuse a store,
Suffices all, and nothing more;
Where the breezes, soft and free,
Rival those of Italy;
Where the lovely kaka screeches,
And the pigs are fed on peaches!
What on earth compares with thee,
"Eden of the Southern Sea?"

Where the wide-extended plain
Waves with fields of golden grain;
Where the shepherd, 'midst his sheep,
Beneath the stars fears not to sleep;
Where the zephyrs from the hills
Are med'cine for all human ills;
Where contentment reigns around,
And no murmurs can be found.
This, and more, they say of thee,
"Eden of the Southern Sea."

But 'tis sad, though very clear,
That we're fated now to hear,
Landed on thy far-famed shore,
Things we heard not named before –
Settlers arming for their lives,
And their little ones and wives;
Forced to fly, or stay to be
"Chawed up catawampously."
We were not told this of thee,
"Eden of the Southern Sea."

Land where men with brains of fog
Built a city in a bog;
Land of rain, and storm, and flood!
Land of water, wind, and mud!
Where six days a week the gale,
Laden thick with rain and hail,
First from sou'-west blows a piercer,
Then veers nor'-west and blows fiercer!
This is what we think of thee,
"Eden of the Southern Sea."

Land where all is dear and bad,
Comfort scarcely to be had;
Wooden house, with shingle roof,
Neither wind nor waterproof;
And the mutton and the beef
Fit to cause a Briton grief;
And of all things the most dear
(As to price) a glass of beer.
Oh, I'm sadly sold in thee,
"Eden of the Southern Sea." J. T. R.

The gentle reader must not imagine that the climate was so bad as the above makes it out.

5 Note by Pilgrim: The Planet was the small steamer that plied between Lyttelton and Christchurch, and Wheeler and Nurse were our carriers for many years between the Port and the Plains.

6 Note by Pilgrim: That's a fact, I've seen it done.

CHAPTER XIII.

CHAPTER XIII.

I FIND on looking back, that I have said nothing about station life, but Lady Barker has described it in such a graphic manner that I am almost afraid to attempt the task; but the old proverb says, "Nothing venture nothing have;" so I will do my best to describe a ride I had to a station beyond Timaru, though I cannot write very much of the life on a station, as I only remained there a month. It was a bright clear morning in November, 1859, and we started at eight o'clock. I was riding a pretty mare called "Vanish," while my companion D. rode a strong black horse, who well deserved the name of "Jacob Faithful," and my mother travelled in a dog-cart driven by a friend. We left Christchurch and were soon clear of civilization, the wide unbounded plain around us dotted here and there with Ti-trees; we cantered easily along for some miles, and then drew rein to rest our horses. Our first halt was at an accommodation house called Gigg's, about twenty-five miles from Christchurch; old settlers will remember it well; there we had dinner (mutton chops, tea, and bread), and after an hour's rest we started again. The ride was most uninteresting; nothing to be seen but a vast yellowish plain, and the Snowy Mountains in the far distance; at last we got to the Rakaia and Dunford's accommodation house, where we were going to sleep that night. I was glad to dismount, for I felt very stiff. I think the first day's ride is always the most tiring. We had a good tea, which

we did full justice to; it consisted of tea, chops, and bread. We retired early, as we were both weary; mother and I shared the same room, and we went to bed, but we could not sleep for the FLEAS!!! (I must use capital letters to give my readers some idea of their size), they were awful, and there were such myriads that I expected to be carried bodily away. At last mother exclaimed, "I can't stand this, let us see what we are sleeping on." I said in a woe-begone voice, "On Fleas!" We looked and found an opossum rug alive with the lively tormentors. I put it out of the window, but as might be imagined, we did not get much rest. In the morning we told the servant (a rough good tempered Irish girl), who laughed and said, "Och shure, I thought the bed too hard entirely, so I put the rug onderneath, an be the same token the colley dogs have been slapeing on it every night;" certainly this accounted for our bad night's rest. We then had breakfast, and started to cross the river. I am thankful to say we were not obliged to ford it, as to my unaccustomed eye it looked very formidable; it was rushing down at the rate of knots, and was slightly discoloured. We were taken across in a boat, the horses being towed behind; my little mare nearly came to grief, as she slipped and fell on her side, and was literally dragged through. She was much exhausted when she got on shore, and we had to wait some time till she recovered; at last we resumed our journey. We intended to sleep at Turton's Hotel, Ashburton, that night, and as it was not a long stage (about eighteen miles), we arrived there in good time, having had a very dreary ride. We had tea, the bill of fare again being bread, tea, and chops; we were very comfortable, and had a good night's rest. We were astir early, as we wanted to get to the Rangitata in good time; after breakfast

we started; the road was flat and uninteresting; the much-dreaded river was in front of us, and although I am not of a nervous temperament, yet I own when I saw the wide river-bed, with a number of streams flowing rapidly through it, my courage, like Bob Acres', began to ooze out of the tips of my fingers, and I wished with all my heart we were safe back in Christchurch. D. said the river was low. I wonder what it would be if it were high, however, it had to be crossed, and summoning up my courage I gave mother a glance of despair, and saw she was as fri – -, no, as anxious as I was. I tucked up my habit, took my foot out of the stirrup, and made the dreaded plunge. "Vanish" walked carefully in, feeling her way. D. was pilot, and mother followed in the dog-cart. The first two streams were not so bad, but when we came to the main stream it did look dangerous, for it was rushing down with great force. D. turned to me and said, "Now, don't look into the water; keep your eyes on the opposite bank." I said, "All right," in a resigned tone, and in we went; it was deep, the water foamed up over the mare's neck, and once I felt her off her feet. D.'s horse behaved splendidly; he kept feeling his way, and if he touched a loose boulder would draw back and try another place. I never looked down; I have done so since, and the sensation is anything but pleasant; it is just as if you were being carried down the river, and you are sure to turn giddy. Many lives have been lost in that way; we got safely over, and I was truly thankful. I said to mother, "How did you feel coming over?" She said, "If I had known it was so dangerous, I would never have come." D. told me although he was an old settler, and had crossed very often, he liked it less each time. Young fellows fresh from home would make light of the rivers, and ford carelessly, and many a life has been lost

that way; old hands were very cautious when there was any sign of a fresh. Our next stage was Rakapuka (now Geraldine), our kind friends, Mr. and Mrs. C., welcomed us most cordially; it was rather late when we got there, and just getting dusk. We had a tea-dinner in a large room most comfortably furnished, about fifteen people at table. Afterwards we went into the drawing-room, and to our astonishment found it handsomely furnished, a large mirror over the mantelpiece decorated with ferns, pictures round the room, a piano, books, music, and drawings scattered about, showed that we had come to a home where the refinements of life had not been neglected. We spent a most enjoyable evening, our host played the flute well, accompanied by his wife on the piano; we had songs, duets, and trios – in fact, quite a concert. We remained several days there, and I thought if all station life was like that, I would be well content to stay there always; we had picnics, rides, and walks, and often ended the day with a dance; in fact, we enjoyed ourselves so much that I was quite sorry when we had to say good-bye, and resume our journey. We started one afternoon for Timaru, and the country now began to look more interesting; we came on some low downs near Timaru, which broke the monotony of the journey, and soon got a view of the glorious old sea, which is always grand. We reached Timaru towards evening, and stayed at a friend's house; he was a bachelor, but made us most comfortable. Next day we went on to the station.

Life on a station is very enjoyable, if you are young and strong, as there is plenty of riding to be done. We often used to go out after cattle, and many a good gallop have I had after an unruly bullock or heifer. I was a good rider in those days,

and would mount anything. I remember once going out for a ride by myself down the flat towards the sea; I was cantering along enjoying the fresh breeze, when I came upon a mob of horses, and out from among them, without a moment's warning, rushed a big vicious-looking horse; he made straight for me with his ears laid flat back; he looked the picture of rage. I turned and fled, my horse going at full gallop; I never rode so fast in my life, but still heard the great brute thundering after me, till I could almost feel his hot breath; I dared not look round, my horse was as frightened as I was; we neared the woolshed and stockyard, but still the great brute kept gaining on me; I gave my horse one cut with the whip, he sprang forward and went so fast that it took my breath away; we reached the stockyard not a minute too soon. Some men standing by pulled down the rails of the stockyard and let me in just as the horse came up; they drove him away with stockwhips. My poor horse was trembling with fear, and covered with foam when I dismounted. The men told me if I had carried a stockwhip the horse would not have followed me, but he always attacked people when he had the chance. I immediately took some lessons in stockwhip cracking on horseback, which is very difficult for a lady to accomplish, and never went out afterwards without one.

There was a good deal of pig hunting going on, and in the evening I used to hear some wonderful "yarns." The following is one told by a mighty pig-killer. I give it in his own words, and it is quite true: –

"I went out one day with my two dogs and rifle after a famous pig called "Old Gough" (called so because he killed a man of that name). My great

ambition was to kill him, but I never even saw him. I rode up the run till I came to a place much frequented by the porcine tribe; it was thickly covered with tall fern, in which the pigs had paths or runs, and was matted overhead with just room for a pig to get along. I heard my dogs barking furiously, and knew they had tackled a boar by the angry grunts he was making. I tied my horse to a Ti-tree, and crept into the run; I could not stand upright, but by stooping could just get along, when suddenly, without any warning, down came an enormous black and white boar full butt straight for me; I could not turn back, and had not even room to raise my gun to my shoulder, but fired from my side, and wonderful to say the pig dropped dead without a struggle; he was so close I put my hand on him. The bullet had gone up his nostril right to his brain, and he died instantaneously. He must have had me if I had missed him, and the probability is that I should not be here now to tell this story."

I cannot say very much of the home life on a station, as I was only on a visit, and our host was bent on making it a pleasant one, and so it was. It is a green spot in my memory not easily forgotten. Our day's amusement was usually a walk in the morning, most likely to the woolshed to see what was going on; then an early dinner, and a ride in the afternoon sometimes to visit our neighbours. In the evening we would sit in the verandah till it got dark, and tell stories. I heard a veritable ghost story one night. It happened to a half-caste, a young fellow full of life and vigour, in perfect health, not given to drinking. He was living in a hut under a cliff in a lonely spot, where he acted as boundary-keeper and shepherd, and after being out all day had come home, had his tea, and gone to bed; he was lying smoking in his bunk wide awake, his

candle burning, when be heard some strange noises as if large stones were thrown on the roof of the hut from the cliff above. He got up and looked out, but could see nothing (he had an old pistol which he used for shooting pigs, and always kept loaded at the side of the bunk). He laid down again, and had just put out his candle, when a little dog he had with him, began to howl and jumped on the bed, while at the same time he heard something in the room. (I meant to explain that the door opened on the inside with a wooden latch and bar.) He described the noise in the room as being like a goat walking on its hind legs; it came nearer to the bed, and he called out, "Who's there?" His dog pressed close to him and trembled. No answer, but still the footsteps came nearer, and in desperation he seized his pistol and fired, when he suddenly felt himself caught hold of, and pressed against the side of the bunk. His words were – "It seemed awfully strong, and could do what it liked with me." He was really frightened, and shouted out and managed to get hold of his match-box and strike a light, when, to his amazement, he was alone, there being nothing to be seen. He got up and went outside, but still there was nothing to be seen, all was quiet and peaceful; he looked for the stones he had heard fall, but there was not one to be found. He went back to the hut, thinking he must have been dreaming, but no, there was the bullet embedded in the door of the hut, where it had struck a hard board; he went to bed, and to sleep, and heard nothing more to disturb him. Two or three days after he had to go to the home station for meat, and there he told his story. Of course the first thing that was said was, that he had been asleep; his idea was that a certain unmentionable party from the lower regions had paid him a visit. He went back that day, and about a month after, on coming

home, he found his hut burnt to the ground, and never found out what caused the fire. I am not a believer in Spiritualism, but sometimes things do happen that cannot be accounted for. As Shakespeare says, "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in our philosophy."

I have not said anything about the latter part of 1859, but an extract from the summary for England will give a fair idea of our improvements and progress: –

"The improvements most likely to catch the eye of a person who has been absent for a short time are in the towns. To begin with Lyttelton. During the year, Norwich Quay has been thoroughly formed and metalled, and 1500 cubic yards prepared for metalling; two large culverts have been built at the gullies in Winchester street and Dublin street; three new public wells have been sunk, and a plentiful supply of water obtained. In Christchurch, the most marked change has been effected in the formation of the main street, running from the Papanui Bridge (now Victoria Bridge) to Cashel street; a portion of the Square has been enclosed, and will be planted next year; bridges have been built over the Avon in Colombo street and at Woodford's mill; a cart bridge at Madras street, and a foot bridge at the College will be completed shortly. Immigration Barracks and a Market House fill up the Market Place very properly.

"Among miscellaneous topics the steam postal service stands first. The Coleman Company have not as yet placed their service on a permanent or satisfactory footing, and the public of Canterbury are beginning to think it necessary to express an opinion on the management. Canterbury requires that the service between this port and Australia

should be without transhipment of mails, passengers, and cargo; that the service should be fortnightly; and that the domestic management, so to speak, should be placed on a more comfortable footing for passengers.

"A rifle corps has been formed for the district round Christchurch. The regulations have been published, and Mr. H. A. Scott, a military man, has been appointed commandant. About thirty volunteers have been enrolled. The electric telegraph line between Christchurch and Lyttelton will soon be completed. A portion of the apparatus came out in the Mary Ann; the rest will follow in the Cashmere. A competent man to superintend the works is also on the spot."

Towards the end of 1859 the new Provincial Council Chamber was used for the first time. The Council met on October 1st, for the Eleventh Session. An amusing article appeared the week before in the Lyttelton Times, and the following is an abridged sketch of it: –

"The Provincial Council will meet to-morrow at one o'clock. Three cheers for the Council; surely every one in the Province will join in the hurrahs! Here we are again!! Ten months' holiday will have refreshed the energies and not impaired the faculties of those honourable gentlemen to whom the public of the Province have ever looked for all that is at once wise and witty, honest and humorous, far-sighted, jocund, and felicitous. * * * Nothing is changed. It is but one session more; one success to add to the brilliant page of the history of the Legislature of the Province of Canterbury, already teeming with triumphs. Once more the Council, like a glorious sun, will rise to throw its lustrous beams abroad, giving warmth, light, and hope to poor mortals who have mourned the long night of its absence.

"It seems like awakening from a long blank sleep, in which a crowd of unremembered shapes begotten by fancy, have haunted us, to the joyous heart-stirring scenes of the meridian day. Yet, this is not fancy, it is fact. We know these figures; we have seen them before; here is one at least of flesh and blood, a man of substance, no ghost; a plain man and no sorcerer. Look how he enters the wooden Gothic halls!! The hair sprinkled with the dust of time; the face a fruitful field. Natheless, the harvest has left but the stubble and the furrows. The hands folded behind, hidden beneath the coat-tails. We know our old friend well; in his eye is a twinkle, and on his lips a twitch, as he surveys the apartment, saying plainer than speech, that he is ready to be pleased with anything he is expected to admire, but he has his private opinions about the building. Dear old friend of ours! relic of ancient days! time-worn pillar of the constitution! Father of the Council! we heartily welcome thee once more to thy place; may'st thou live long, to talk quaint common-sense to many Councils for the future! What, indeed, would that body be without thee? 7 What the other members of the Council will look like, what they may do, and how they may do it, will be all mentioned hereafter. The Superintendent's address is a great State secret, but we are at liberty to mention that if it is in rhyme it will be word for word as follows: –

Gentlemen, I'm very glad
To meet you in this new-built chamber,
Such a one you have not had
For ten sessions past, remember.

Some may grumble at the pile
Of cash, here spent. We're all aware of it.
These things must be done in style
Or not at all – And you've your share of it.

Some may call it plain and queer,
And some may think it ornamental,
This, I know, 'twill save each year
A deal of trouble and of rental.

Gentlemen! I'm proud to say,
On opening this Eleventh Session,
That our state in every way
Is sound in spite of late depression.

Read the Engineer's report,
No statement ever could be cheerier,
There you'll find the facts – in short,
We've opened up the whole interior.

One work more we'll undertake,
With one huge obstacle we'll wrestle,
Help me, gentlemen, to make
A road between the road and vessel.
(About 200 lines of M. S. are here missing).

Think it out and talk your best,
Oppose it if it suits your conscience,
But, for the credit of the rest,
Oh, gentlemen, let none talk nonsense.

"His Honor will then retire, and if the Council has nothing else to do, they will perhaps set the address to music, and sing, thus commencing the Session with harmony, which we trust will not be broken till the day of prorogation."

I do not think it will be necessary to say anything more of the opening of the new Council Chamber. All the members were very glad to have such a commodious, comfortable room for their deliberations. My readers must not think that it was the late Council Chamber that I am alluding to (that was built long after) the one opened then, is now the present Waste Lands Board room.

7 Note by Pilgrim: I believe the worthy old gentleman referred to was the late Mr. Packer. He was a most useful member in all the early Councils.

CHAPTER XIV.

CHAPTER XIV.

I HAVE now come to the year 1860, which was not famous in our annals for any remarkable events; however, I will briefly touch on anything likely to prove interesting. The railway question still engaged men's minds, the position of affairs being as follows: –

The Commissioners appointed at home had entered into a contract with a firm in England to undertake the completion of the railway for a certain sum, contingently, first, that the contractors were satisfied through their agents here that the work was truly described; second, that the Provincial Council ratified the terms of the contract; and third, that the General Government permitted the expenditure to be incurred. Mr. Baynes, the agent for the contractors, Messrs. Smith and Knight, arrived here and proceeded with investigations on their behalf. The result was sufficiently favourable to prevent the contract lapsing. His Honor went to Auckland to supply any information needed by the General Government, and in April the Council met, and the consideration of the railway occupied the whole attention of the members. The closing debate was most vigorous. The division was 15 to 2 in favour of the resolution for the railway, which was accordingly approved. The works at that time were limited to the sinking of the trial shafts, one at each end of the tunnel (that was to be). On the Lyttelton side the work went on but slowly, as the rock was very hard; at the Heathcote end it proceeded with much greater rapidity, and in less than

a month the level was reached. Periodical explosions testified to the Lytteltonians that the work was going on and the tunnel was fairly started.

In my last chapter I described a ride to Timaru, and to show that I was not exaggerating about the length of time it took, I quote from an advertisement in the local paper concerning the mails: – "Christchurch and Waitangi Mail. – Except owing to unavoidable accident, the mail will not be more than three days in summer and four days in winter to Timaru, and two days from Timaru to the Waitangi." Now, by the express train, we do it in four hours! What a change in eighteen years! We have every reason to be proud of our progress; and if we go on at the same rate, what shall we be in twenty years hence? I suppose telephones will supersede letter writing all over the Colonies, we shall have the electric light instead of gas or candles, and improvements and inventions now not even thought of. I see in the distance a glorious future for our adopted home Shall we not some day be a great nation? In our New Zealand poet's (Mr. Bracken's) words: –

"Oh brothers! our race has a time-honoured story,
With pride we look back on the days that are gone;
Before us, Fame holds in a halo of glory
The map of our future, and beckons us on.
The East with its pleasures,
The West with its treasures,
The North with its lore on our country shall wait;
All freemen shall cheer her,
And tyrants shall fear her,
For Freedom's at home on her Southern estate,
Her Southern estate,
Her Southern estate.
In majesty rises a bold and a free land,
The starry cross glows O'er her unsullied snows
That crown her grand mountains, – hurrah for New Zealand!"

On July 25th of this year, a meeting was held at the Town Hall, Christchurch, in aid of the sufferers at Taranaki, the chair being taken by C. C. Bowen, Esq., Deputy-Superintendent. It was a very large meeting, the Bishop of Christchurch and most of the clergy and leading men of the town being present. The Chairman opened the meeting, and in a few appropriate words introduced the subject. The Bishop of Christchurch then proposed the first resolution, which I quote verbatim – "That this meeting having learned by the latest intelligence from Taranaki that the war between the European and Maori population still continues, and that there is no definite period at which it is reasonable to look for a cessation of hostilities, desires to express its sympathy with the European settlers there, for the suffering and loss to which they have been exposed." His Lordship then made a most excellent speech, and trusted that all would concur in the feelings of the deepest sympathy for the sufferers, and hoped that those who enjoyed the blessings of peace and prosperity would prove they appreciated them by their liberality towards their suffering brothers. A number of gentlemen spoke warmly on the subject, and it was resolved that subscription lists should be opened and be sent all over the Province. Our dear old friend, John Ollivier, who was as active in all good works then as he is at the present day, made a long and able speech. Mr. Joseph Brittan and Mr. George Gould were appointed secretary and treasurer respectively, and a subscription list was opened in the room, the amount collected exceeding £300. The sympathies of the public being fully enlisted, found expression in various ways. The ladies of Lyttelton formed themselves into a working corps, and met daily at the Town Hall for some hours. A considerable quantity of flannel shirts and underclothing, &c, was the result of the

praiseworthy movement. A fancy bazaar was started by the ladies of Christchurch, who all worked hard for the good cause; the bazaar was a great success, and realised the handsome sum of £750. The total sum collected by subscription, concerts, and entertainments for the relief fund, was £2000. This was not bad, considering that we were but a young Colony, and money was not too plentiful amongst us.

I alluded to Mr. John Ollivier just now as taking a prominent part, and I must quote a paragraph I found concerning him – "A prophet is not without honour in his own country;" it is from the News of the World of February 19th, 1860: – "Progress of the Canterbury Settlement. – The Lyttelton Times of October 29th, 1859, contains an able and lucid speech of Mr. Ollivier, Provincial Secretary, in submitting to the Council the annual Financial Statement of the Government. It appears therefrom that the settlement is making great and satisfactory progress; the proceedings of the Executive being marked with as much wisdom as energy. New roads, bridges, and other public works are being carried out with as much wisdom as zeal. There is a reason given for everything in Mr. Ollivier's speech, and a good reason too. Mr. Ollivier's financial statement is a much more satisfactory and agreeable thing to contemplate than that of Mr. Gladstone, which is undergoing so much criticism at home; indeed, the comparison of the two inspires a wish that the coming of Macaulay's 'New Zealander' could be anticipated, and the clearheaded and plain-speaking Colonist brought, not to the 'ruins of London Bridge,' but to the official benches of the House of Commons, where he would appear to much better advantage than some of the present occupants thereof."

An incident happened in this year that gave rise to a short poem called "Drifting," from which I will

give a few verses, presently. A small boat drifted from Pigeon Bay out to sea, with a woman and an infirm old negro on board. They were out for two days and nights, without either food or water, exposed to the inclemency of the weather. Search parties were sent out to look for them, and they were at last picked up by Captain Gray, of the Corsair. The poor woman was saved at a most critical time, as soon after her rescue she gave birth to a fine boy. When they were found, the poor old negro was lying in the bottom of the boat insensible from exhaustion, hunger, and cold, while Mrs. Fletcher, the woman, was bravely holding on to the steer oar, trying to make the brigantine. The old man eventually recovered.

DRIFTING.

A little boat alone, alone,
Fast drifting out to sea;
A weed upon the wild waves thrown
The frail thing seems to be;
And fast it floats upon the tide,
Without a hand to save or guide
Save one – a woman, pale with care,
And anxious eyes, sits trembling there.

A woman and an aged man,
All helpless in his fear,
Who since their peril first began,
With childish moan and tear,
And crouching form, bewails his fate;
But she, who sees the danger great,
Seizes the oar, and strives to guide
The frail bark o'er the drifting tide.

What thoughts were hers as hours went by,
And night came stealing on;
And the cold wind breathed like a sigh
Over the lonely one!
What thoughts of life, of hope, of home,
Where she perchance might never come –
Of light and love and comfort there,
And here starvation and despair!

Yet with firm hand and sleepless eyes
She steered the little bark;
Saw the next morn's bright sun arise,
Saw the next day grow dark.
And still – no help; around on high
The wide expanse of sea and sky.
Well might all faith and hope depart
From that poor woman's trembling heart.

But no! a woman's soul is strong,
Although her frame be weak;
Her fortitude endureth long,
And patience calm and meek.
So houseless, foodless, weak but brave,
She steered the lone boat o'er the wave;
And God in mercy heard her cry,
And did not let the wanderers die.

There are two verses more, hut I will not give them, as the above is long enough for this chapter.

I must again note the progress of the tunnel. "Most of our readers who have had to undergo the miseries of a journey into Port during the last four months, must have noticed a heap of rocky earth which appears to be thrown up out of the hill-side nearly opposite Mr. Cookson's house. If they ask a passer-by what it means, they will be told it is the railway, and that is about all they are likely to gain in the way of information." I will give a short resume of what had been done up to October. The Lyttelton shaft was commenced in February, the rock was reached at about fifteen feet from the surface, and was exceedingly hard and tough; for this reason the work at Lyttelton was comparatively slow. It was anticipated that the making of the tunnel would be the means of providing a water supply to Lyttelton, and certainly a good deal of water was found – rather more than the miners liked, as it retarded their work and necessitated the use of water-tight cartridges. The work at the Christchurch end had

been carried on under more favourable circumstances, and consequently made greater progress. This was owing partly to the fact, that in sinking the shaft, for fifty feet of its depth nothing harder was found than sandy clay, and when they came to rock it was found to be of a more practicable nature than at Lyttelton. The number of men employed varied from twenty to thirty; but when the works were in full operation, a much larger number were employed, and the mining was carried on night and day.

There was a farewell entertainment given to the agents of Messrs. Smith and Knight. A large number of gentlemen assembled in Mr. Longden's new warehouse, Colombo street, to join in a farewell breakfast given by His Honor to Messrs. Baynes and M'Candlish, the agent and engineer of Messrs Smith and Knight. The latter firm having declined to enter upon the contract for the construction of the railway on the terms laid down in a preliminary agreement, the duties of Messrs. Baynes and M'Candlish were at an end, and they were returning to England. In my next chapter I will report on the progress of the railway.

Mr. Fitzgerald returned from England during the year, and we were all delighted to have him amongst us once more. An amusing poem appeared in the Lyttelton Times, entitled –

ARCADES AMBO.

A bucolic – after VIRGIL.

First Swain – M.
Fitzgerald! Once again we meet,
Thee warmly doth the country greet!
If thou to me assistance lend,
Then I will be thy dearest friend.

Second Swain – F.
Oh, Moorhouse, Fortune's favoured son,
Thou hast her every gift but one,
If to my counsels thou'lt attend,
I'll make thee great, and be thy friend.

First Swain – M.
Nay, Fitz, I fear thou hast forgot
That I'm in power, and thou art not;
My plans are formed, take that for granted,
And keep advice until 'tis wanted.

Second Swain – F.
Oh! Moorhouse, Moorhouse, half an ounce
Of sense is worth a pound of bounce!
Be wise; thy reckless schemes resign,
And wholly trust to me and mine.

First Swain – M.
Now, hearken! Rather, I declare,
Than give our fortunes to thy care –
Rather than trust thy plans or thee –
I'd sink the country in the sea.

Second Swain – F.
Then hearken thou! In loud debate,
With warning voice throughout the State,
I'll rouse the bitter social storm
To do thee and thy projects harm.

First Swain – M.
Begone! and do thy worst; for I
Thee and thy crack-brained schemes defy.

Second Swain – F.
Begone! and let the public try
Which is more crack-brained, thou or I.

First Swain – M.
But stay – perhaps – conceive – suppose,
The public will not come to blows.

Second Swain – F.
Aye, stay – Perhaps they may not quite
For either scheme care to fight.

First Swain – M.
Of course they think you very rash.

Second Swain – F.
And you, they know, can scatter cash.

First Swain – M.
But, then, you're at the bottom true.

Second Swain – F.
Well, come! they think the same of you.

Both.
No quarrels then; the public know
That they themselves are rather slow,
And wish that you – and I – who lead
Should have a little extra speed.

[Exeunt amicably. ]

C. W.

In the beginning of this chapter, I said New Zealand would have a glorious future, and curiously enough I came upon a humorous sketch of what Christchurch will be in 1963. It is rather long, but I hope my readers will find it amusing. It is called "A Night at the Club; or, Christchurch in 1963." Scene – The Library; present – Old Prosy. The New Member; decanters, glasses, &c.

Old Prosy – It is a wonderful thing, James, how much the mind sympathises with the body, and when the frail tenement is in good condition, with what a happy self-complacency the inhabitant glows. I believe that a nice observer of literature might tell the very hour of the day in which any particular passage was written; and, from a close observation and collection of the sentiments, might sketch a fair diary of the regimen of the author, and say whether he dined alone on a solitary steak, or with an assemblage of wits, on all the delicacies of the season.

New Member – There is something in that; and by reducing your theory to a science, much might be done for literature. The friendly critic might at once point out a fault and its remedy; sound port

wine for despondent poets, and severe cathartics for satirists and cynics. Of course, our paternal Government would take it up. And think of the glorious spectacle to be presented by all Canterbury attending at the Office of the Board for the Regulation of the Public Digestion, to receive the bi-monthly pill that should ensure temper and argument to our writers, comprehension and submission to our readers! Why, we should get rid of the whole school of sensation novelists, not to mention the other ravings of mental dyspepsia. By-the-by, what is that pamphlet at your elbow?

Old Prosy – Professor Geo. Logic's "Attempt to prove the Earth is an Animal." He considers earthquakes as symptoms of indigestion, brought on by imbibing too much atmospheric nutriment.

New Member – There is a review of it in the last Anti-Creation Gazette. For my part I rather incline to the theory of the Anti-Chaos Society that the Earth works on a pivot. Have you seen Lady Darwina Buckle's new novel, "The History of a Family?"

Old P. – No; what is it?

New M. – The family is her own, and the history begins with the founder, a really delightful old baboon; there is an anti-biographical sketch of his great grandson, which brought tears to my eyes. The heroic monkey had such clear views of the glorious destiny of his race, and such entire devotion to it, that he actually used to bite a slice off his eldest son's tail every morning before breakfast to hasten its development.

Old P. – Didn't Lady Darwina's brother come to grief in Africa lately?

New M. – Yes; he went out to civilise Gorilladom. He got them to acknowledge the relationship, but in learning Gorilla he forgot his English; and when they ceased to be afraid of his gun, they grew tired of him, so he got eaten one day.

Old P. – You were talking of Geology. Here is a letter to the Superintendent, suggesting that if a sufficient portion of the Plains were sown with blue paper, carefully buried at a proper depth, the mineral formations might be brought to crop out in properly-labelled parcels.

New M. – A capital idea. Do you know anything of this breach of promise case? Young Lord Waimakariri and the Earl of Timaru's daughter. It is not the first scrape of the sort he has got into, is it?

Old P. – No; he was pulled up two years ago by the Board for the Regulation of Ballrooms (of which my old friend the President of the Anti-Sitting-on-the-Stairs and Suppression-of-Flirting Society is Chairman) for exciting false hopes in the gentle bosom of Miss Fanny Riccarton. He got out of that by explaining that Miss Fanny's hand, being a large one, took him double the time to shake, but he had no intention of distinguishing her from her sisters.

New M. – He makes it a case of conscience this time, I hear, and appeals to the Ecclesiastical Courts.

Old P. – Yes; he says nothing would delight him i more now than to marry Lady Louisa, but it is well known that a man changes his identity every seven years; so, besides that, it goes against his principles to bind the coming Viscount to a wife who by that time mayn't suit him at all; he would feel it essential to be married over again at regular intervals, and he expects the clergy would object.

New M. – He's an ingenious youth. How is the new theatre going on?

Old P. – So so. The legitimate drama seems defunct, though, by-the-bye, I see the Board of Education advertises, "Shakespeare adapted to the infant capacity, to follow Milton monosyllableized now in use." However, Mr. Meshach Robinson has promised the manager a help.

New M. – He's collecting funds to import the All-England Croquetiers, isn't he?

Old P. – Yes; thirty young ladies are coming to play. They are to wear fancy dresses, on the ground; but to ensure success they are to be seen nowhere else, unless they choose to go about in black dresses and coal-scuttle bonnets.

New M. – But the Theatre?

Old P. – Oh, the manager gives Meshach £50, and they are to appear on the stage standing on their heads in a blaze of fireworks to receive a gilt croquet mallet from the first tragedian.

New M. – Well, we have had a pleasant chat, but how is it we have the library to ourselves?

Old P. – All the Members have gone to the dinner. Did you not know that to-day was the celebration of the Lyttelton and Christchurch junction. Here comes one of the absentees full of news.

Third Member (entering) – A splendid evening. Dinner capital! The steam band playing all the time, only it's a pity the leader makes such a row with his flageolet on account of his boiler being in his inside. Waiting perfect. As I came out I saw a steam waiter salute a steam housemaid with the greatest gallantry; and at the stable a self-acting

groom put his comb between his teeth and gave me change for half-a-crown with perfect facility and accuracy. But what is all this crowd in the street

Old P. (approaching window) – Oh! they always turn out to look at Jim Crow.

New M. – And who is Jim Crow?

Old P. – The only man in Christchurch who is not a Government officer.

Tremendous excitement; new member rushes out and into the wake of Jim Crow. Old Prosy goes to bed.

CHAPTER XV.

CHAPTER XV.

I LITTLE thought when I began to write these sketches how much pleasure I should find in the task, and how sorry I should feel when I laid down my pen and knew my work was over. There is to me an inexpressible pleasure in recalling memories of bygone days; and our past, though it may not contain records of noble deeds and battles fought and won, yet I may say there were many acts of quiet heroism performed amongst us. The battle of life was by no means easy in those days – and is it not very often a hard battle – and I think we did our duty bravely. The past of a Colony gives useful lessons in endurance, work, patience, and courage.

I have come to my fifteenth chapter, and we are now in 1861 – a year not famed for any great occurrence, and yet full of small events interesting to us at the time. Are my readers tired of the progress of the railway? I hope not, as I shall have a good deal to say on the subject. In my last chapter I mentioned that Messrs. Smith and Knight declined to enter into a contract to complete the railway, so it was at a standstill for a time; but our indefatigable Superintendent was not to be beaten, and went to Melbourne to find a contractor who would undertake our great work. He was successful, and returned, bringing with him a well-known influential contractor connected with important works in Victoria, I allude to the late Mr. Holmes, who, in the name of Messrs. Holmes, Richardson and Co., undertook the com-

pletion of the railway, and signed an agreement to execute a contract to construct the works for a sum of £240,500, within a term of five years, under a penalty of £20,000. On His Honor's return from Melbourne, he was received with great enthusiasm, and it was determined to give him a public reception. On the auspicious day, about half-past eleven, a large number of mounted cavaliers were ready to meet him at the Heathcote Ferry, and on his arrival there he was received with most cordial cheers and greetings from over a hundred horsemen. He took his seat in the carriage provided for him, and accompanied by Mr. Maude, the Provincial Secretary, started for Christchurch – a procession being formed with an advanced guard of twenty, the remainder following the carriage three deep. At the Town Belt the Christchurch Band met them, and, to the tune of "See, the Conquering Hero Comes!" the cavalcade entered the town; continued cheers, gathering strength as the procession moved on, greeting the people's representative, and proving that with the Christchurch public the railway was indeed popular. On reaching the Town Hall, His Honor ascended the balcony, and was received with three hearty cheers from over 500 people below. He made a long and able speech telling what he had done, and what he expected to do for the railway, and amongst other things said: "He felt greatly obliged to the people of Christchurch for their support. It would not make him one whit more proud, but it would strengthen his hands, and materially assist him in the pursuit of a policy which he had determined to carry through. He had been accused in the papers of being mad, reckless, and a gambler, and by God's blessing, if his life was spared, he now again promised them he would make a railway to the North and another to the South."

In Mr. Moorhouse's efforts to establish a railway in the Province, he had persevered with such unfailing energy, that all rejoiced with him in the success of his labours. Like many an enterprise, the temporary adversity that followed its entrance into the world was attended with a double share of prosperity as it progressed.

I now turn to another subject to which I have alluded before, and that is the "First of May," when the runholders paid their rent, once a-year. A humorous sketch made its appearance in the Lyttelton Times, and I will give a portion of it here, as it may prove interesting to old settlers: – "The first of May, the rent-day of the Old Country, has been selected by both playwright and painter, as a true type of English society of the present day. Another Jerrold and another Wilkie ought to rise among us to portray on the stage or on canvas a very different subject with the same title – 'The Rent-Day.' It is a subject equally fertile here as in the Old Country, and. contains within itself the elements which, in graphic hands, would be made to represent a complete corresponding type of the habits and manners of society in Canterbury. Our rent-day picture would contain no figures of a patronising landlord, no stony-hearted agent, no insolent footman, no fawning tenant, no brokenhearted wife; these features do not attend the payment of our rent, which falls due so extensively on the first of May. Instead of them we have characters, with quite as much life in them, quite as much contrast between them, quite as much serious business to do, but with no touch of the pathetic. * * * * * An easy tenure and a profitable business make a ready rent-payer, and the sheep farmers of Canterbury have the first-

named – never to be sufficiently estimated – advantage, and are without question models of punctual paymasters."

The Board of Commissioners – commonly called the Waste Lands Board – as it sits to receive the license fees due to-day, is a picture in itself. There sits the Chief Commissioner (the late G. Brittan, Esq.), an unrivalled patron of cricket, imbued deeply with the true English sportsmanlike feeling, and in all senses a lover of the game. There sits the Chief Surveyor (T. Cass, Esq.), the lightest-hearted youngster that ever went through thirty years of the toughest work. There is the Treasurer (R. J. S. Harman, Esq.), the trusty man of business, who forms the connecting link between the Plains of Canterbury and the British Peerage. There is the now grown venerable Extra Commissioner (the late E. Packer, Esq.), a genuine English mixture of sound sense and good humour, at whom no one will laugh, with whom we hope to have many a good chuckle yet. There rests the ex officio Commissioner, the Provincial Secretary (T. W. Maude, Esq.) of whom men say that fortune has favoured him in public and private more than any other official who has bound his head to the public yoke. Add to the list at the table end, the Clerk of the Board, who had prayed the fickle goddess to let him emulate the gentleman beside him.

"See the solemn Christchurch Board –
One, two, three, four, and five,
They bag such heaps of cash
To keep the game alive.

"Jingle, jingle, jingle, go the silver and the gold,
As the squatters crowd to pay;
For every one will lose his run
If he miss the first of May."

There is a good deal more of this sketch describing the rent-payers, but it would take up too much room to give it all.

An interesting event, but particularly so to the Fourth Estate, took place in this year. An advertisement from the Lyttelton Times runs thus: "May the 22nd. On Saturday next will appear the first number of a weekly newspaper named the Press, to be printed and published every Saturday morning at the Press Office, Montreal street, Christchurch." The Lyttelton Times thus gives notice of the birth of its contemporary: – "An advertisement in our columns to-day announces the publication of a new paper in Christchurch. The new journal will bear the Conservative name of the Press. We understand it will be of small size, and under the management of Mr. Fitzgerald. The vigour likely to be displayed in its columns none can doubt." The Press made its appearance, and about a fortnight after the Lyttelton Times made the following mild observations: – "We desire to offer an ample apology for an error committed by us last Wednesday week with reference to the Press, a mistake which that paper has very properly pointed out. We overlooked the fact that we were committing an offence against etiquette; it was by no means our desire to be offensive. We mentioned it out of sincere goodwill towards the Press, believing that the name of Mr. Fitzgerald was a guarantee for the honesty, dignified conduct, and practical ability of any journal with which he might be connected. Our mistake lay in being too precipitate, for after the appearance of the journal the fatuity of our anticipation was apparent. In expressing our sincere regret, we beg to assure the Press that we shall not again commit the blunder of associating the name of Mr. Fitzgerald, or of any other writer

of repute, with its management." So the rival papers began by pitching into each other, hammer and tongs, and have kept it up ever since, and I suppose will do so to the end of the chapter. I must say the Press gave as good as it got, even in those early days.

July 17th, 1861, was a most eventful day for us, as on that date the first sod of the railway was turned by His Honor the Superintendent. Human wishes may be more or less intense according to the character of the exciting cause. Nero wished that all the people of Rome had but one neck, that he might act as executioner. But I venture to say no wish was ever more devoutly uttered than embodied by the people of Christchurch in these words: "I wish Wednesday, the 17th of July, may be a fine day." Alas! for the futility of earthly hopes, it was one of the wettest days in the month of July that we had ever known in Canterbury. True, however, as the axiom might be "that nice customs curtsey to great kings," the weather showed no disposition to make any exception in favour of His Honor, as it rained the whole day, a steady, uncompromising rain that showed no signs of leaving off.

Of course we had a procession (we always had one in those days), and this was the order: –

Police Inspector Mounted.
Police on Foot.
Christchurch and Foresters' Bands.
Volunteers Armed.
Volunteers Unarmed.
Christchurch Volunteer Fire Brigade.
The Superintendent.
Horsemen, Four Deep.

In this order, the bands playing music of a martial strain, the procession proceeded up the Heathcote Valley from the Ferry, and arrived at the ground selected for the performance of the ceremony. On the ground the Volunteers paraded two deep on one side of a hollow square, the visitors occupying the remaining three sides. At this stage of the proceedings there could not have been less than from 1500 to 2000 people present. Mr. Richardson, who represented the firm of Holmes and Co., then came forward and said: "The time has now arrived for the commencement of the Lyttelton and Christchurch Railway, and I think there is no one so fit as His Honor to commence the work. I have much pleasure in asking him to cut the first sod." His Honor (vide Bell's Life) lost no time in getting "to work," and at once proceeded to perform the "great work," handling the spade "with such skill and dexterity" that a thoroughbred "navvy" could not have done better. The enthusiastic cheers that greeted him were literally deafening.

Mr. Moorhouse then made a short speech in these words: "Ladies and gentlemen, – In such unfavourable weather, I will not detain you. It is not for me to take any credit to myself for the success of this undertaking Up to this time, by the blessing of Providence, it has prospered, and I hope will continue to do so, and that this is only the dawning of a great future for Canterbury. My friends, the contractors, have provided a most liberal entertainment, and I cannot do better than propose an adjournment to the tent."

This speech was followed by a feu de joie and "present arms" by the Canterbury Volunteers in grand style. Everyone then proceeded to the extensive tent; the display of good things within presented a sight which by dinner-loving Englishmen

(dare I say women) is certain to be looked upon with pleasure. Grace was said by the Ven. Archdeacon Mathias, and the guests forthwith proceeded to enjoy themselves. There were a number of speeches made, and everybody drank everyone else's health, and thus ended the momentous event of turning the first sod of our railway.

Towards the end of this year a meeting was held in Christchurch to memorialise the Government to offer a reward for the discovery of a payable gold-field. The Government acceded to the request, and offered a reward of £1000 for that purpose. An amusing poem appeared at that time, and I give a few verses: –

LAMENT OF CANTERBURY.

Dear Mr. Editor, I pray you give ear
To my sad tale, my pitiful lament,
I've not been so annoyed this many a year,
My inside's really quite in a ferment.
Those other provinces – oh dear! oh dear!
Are filling me with shame and discontent;
I, who was once so vigorous and bold,
Am in the dumps – and why? – I've got no gold!

There's that Otago – oatmeal-eating place,
Is turning gold up by the hundred weight;
That fag-end of the world – now in the race
Is going ahead at a confounded rate.
See what a grin lights up each Scotchman's face,
When they compare their own with my sad fate;
Otago may be wet, and bleak, and cold,
But what of that when they've got lots of gold.

I've circulated rumours not a few
Of people finding nuggets by the score,
To cause a rush, but that game wouldn't do,
It only got me laughed at more and more.
They found some lately down at Timaru,
Though they that found it planted it before;
The people don't seem willing to be sold,
They can't be made to believe there's any gold.

"What shall I do? My case is very hard,
I've one more grief to state before I leave it;
I'm offering now one thousand pounds reward
For finding gold – but people won't believe it;
They think – the beggars are so on their guard,
It's all a hoax and that they'll not receive it.
Dear Mr. Editor, may I be so bold,
One question – Do you know of any gold?

F. T. M.

The latter part of 1861 and the beginning of 1862 were devoid of any great interest to my readers. Fortunately, there were no great calamities to record, and perhaps quite as fortunately, very little political news. A general election had passed off with little or no excitement, Mr. Sefton Moorhouse being re-elected Superintendent.

I wonder if many of my readers have any conception of what Christchurch was like in 1862. To give some idea I will enumerate the public buildings, churches, &c. The Provincial Buildings and Council Chamber (it would be needless for me to describe them, as everyone knows them), the Post Office, the Town Hall (that was near where Strange's shop is now), Resident Magistrate's Court (the same that is used still), Immigration Barracks, and Police Office. The churches were St. Michael's, St. Luke's, the Wesleyan Chapel, on the north side of High street (now used as a shop, and called The Hall), and St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church. The Roman Catholics had not built a church, but held service in a small building on the Ferry road. Amongst the public buildings I did not mention the Hospital, which was in a sufficient state of progress to admit a few patients. It had been built at the public expense out of votes by the Provincial Council.

I will now close this chapter with a sad little episode that happened in this year. I am not sure

whether Lady Barker has not retailed this in one of her pleasant stories, but if she has, I am sure she will forgive me for giving it here. A gentleman who had been in the Colony about a year, had joined a survey party who were camped near the Rakaia. He left the camp at noon on Good Friday to go to Mr. Parker's station with a letter, but did not turn up when expected; and a search party went out to look for him, and found the poor young fellow dead. He was lying on his face, and under him was a pocket-book, in which he kept a diary, and from this it seems he left the camp on Good Friday at noon, and had gone about five miles in the direction of the Orari station, when, being nearly dark, he slipped down a steep bank and broke his leg. Rain coming on, and finding the river rising, he dragged himself a little way up the bank, and folding his blanket round him, made up his mind to die. He suffered from extreme thirst, from which he found some relief from a sponge he had with him, which he soaked in the rain, and squeezed into his mouth. His last entry was on Monday night; he says he passed his time in cooeying for assistance, and in praying, and that he was resigned to his fate; he also wrote a loving message to his mother.

One can imagine the awful misery of those long hours from Good Friday to Monday night; but no doubt strength was given him from above to bear his sad and terrible fate.

What thoughts were his, as all alone,
He sought for help on high?
He fear-ed not, or made a moan,
But laid him down to die.
He thought of his mother far away,
And sent her a message of love.
Alas! she'll weep for him many a day;
But they'll meet in Heaven above.

CHAPTER XVI.

CHAPTER XVI.

I SHALL endeavour in this chapter to include two years, as some of the events would not be at all interesting to the majority of my readers, although they were naturally so to us. In these days of progress I think we are inclined to look forward, and many live in the present, crave for the future, and never think of the dead past, if they can help it; for my part, I love the memories of old days. One of the principal events of 1862 was the laying the first stone in the tunnel arch, but I need, not give a long description of that interesting ceremony; it took place on September 29th, at the Heathcote Valley, in the presence of a numerous assemblage, but I believe the "numerous assemblage" saw very little of the important ceremony, as from the nature of the ground it was difficult to obtain a good view. The stone, a fine specimen, weighing upwards of half-a-ton, from the quarry over the tunnel, was carefully deposited on its bed, the Provincial Engineer adjusting it by means of a square and level; Mrs. Moorhouse spread the mortar with a silver trowel; Archdeacon Mathias deposited the usual corn and oil, and closed the ceremony with a short and suitable prayer, invoking a blessing on the work; everyone then proceeded to a large tent, where a dejeuner was provided by Messrs. Holmes and Co., and where, I have no doubt, the public enjoyed themselves; of course the usual toasts and speeches followed ad libitum. A game of football was then started, in which all classes joined; there

might be seen grave merchants measuring their length on the grass, and the inimitable "Thatcher" getting a spill, having "collided" against a highly respectable Government Official. The festivities ended with a dance, which was kept up with great spirit. The most interesting part of the entertainment was a walk into the tunnel, which was lighted up to enable visitors to explore its gloomy recesses. Since the commencement of the tunnel, fifteen months before, 800 yards had been completed (though not of the full dimensions), 400 yards at each end.

The 21st of October was also an important day in our annals, for on that date the first electric telegraph in New Zealand was completed. The line started from the Resident Magistrate's Court, Lyttelton, and was carried over the hill along the course of the Heathcote Valley to Christchurch, terminating in a tower at the west end of the Government Buildings. Of course the opening of the telegraph was celebrated by a dinner, or rather two, as there was one given in Lyttelton and a return dinner in Christchurch; there was also a public ball. It was certainly a matter of congratulation that we should have the first telegraph in New Zealand. There was an amusing story told of an old Scotch woman, who did not understand much about the telegraph, and who went to the office and enquired of the clerk if she could send a message into Port. "Yes, madam," was the reply. "Weel, ye maun know that a freen o' mine has gien me a muckle cheese, and I want to get it out," said she. The civil clerk gave her the form to fill in, but she looked at him in astonishment, and said, "My conscience, I canna write weel enough, write it yersel', my bonnie lad." He was pleased with the compliment, and said, "Well, old lady, what am I to say." She dictated a long message to her friend about the said

cheese, stating when it was to be sent, and a long rigmarole, which would have cost about 10s., so the clerk told her and prevailed on her to let him send the message in his own words, which were, "Please send cheese by first opportunity," with name and address. The woman sat herself down and waited; the message was sent, still the old woman sat, until at last the young man said, "Do you wait for an answer?" She looked at him in surprise and said, "Weel, I'm just waiting for the cheese." "Waiting for the cheese? Why, my good woman, you don't think it is coming by electric telegraph," he said, laughing. "And what for no," she said. "Did'na I pay my twa shillings to get my cheese to take hame with me?" To this the clerk replied, "You can send messages, but not articles by it;" when the old lady rose up, and giving him a look of severe reproach, said, "Oh, the cheatrey of thae new fangled things, I maun hae my twa shillings back." However, she found she could not get them, and left the office, mourning over the depravity of human nature and electric telegraphs.

I daresay many of my readers will remember Thatcher and his local comic songs. He made his first appearance this year, and was highly appreciated. There was a genial humour about him, such a flow of wit and power of application, that no shaft of his fell aimless, no event escaped his Argus eye. The following is a specimen of his prose: it is called "Thatcher's Summary," and was evidently a satire on the Lyttelton Times Summary: –

"We beg to present our readers with our first summary for England.

"Canterbury, as our readers are aware, is a large island on the mainland of New Zealand. It is bounded on the north by Cook's Straits, on the

south by Timaru, on the east by Papanui, and on the west by Riccarton. The first batch of emigrants arrived at Port Cooper in December, 1850, consisting of 799 souls, one cow, five pigs, seventeen cocks and hens, and a Bishop. Lyttelton, the port, is a magnificent city, with a population of 50,000, and is beautifully laid out with parks, public gardens, fountains, &c, &c. Our readers who have visited Paris will have some faint idea of the beauty and splendour of this splendid city. There are three large Banks doing an immense business. The Bank of New Zealand is similar in appearance to the Bank of England. The Hospital is a noble building, though not quite so commodious as St. Bartholomew's. The jetty is a monument of Provincial industry. Large ships arrive daily and discharge their cargoes into railway trucks alongside. The depth at low water is 30ft. Besides the Government jetty, there is a wharf at the east end of the shore abutting on Norwich Quay. The wharf is very picturesque, and is relieved by the appearance of a large Peacock, which may be seen strutting there.

"We leave Lyttelton by the Bridle-path, and, after a gentle ascent, we reach the top of the hill overlooking the Canterbury Plains. The weary traveller is struck by the noble appearance of a large hotel at the foot of the hill, erected by J. Birdsey, Esq. The building is four storeys high, and makes up 325 beds. Another mile brings us to the river Heathcote, which is spanned by a fine suspension bridge, after the model of the one at Hungerford. A good metalled road brings us to Christchurch, which has a population of 100,000. It has two rivers, the Heathcote and Avon, both navigable up to the city for vessels of 1000 tons. It has several streets, Cashel street is similar to Regent street, and Cathedral Square is

like Belgrave Square. The Government Buildings are superior to the Royal Exchange, and built in a style of great magnificence. It seldom rains in Christchurch, but we have heavy dews. The bell-tower of St. Michael's is one of the lions. The chief products of Christchurch are – mud, Maoris, watercresses, wool, mountebanks, and lawyers." 8

The Cathedral had been talked of before this year, but it was in December of 1862 that the first practical steps were taken for building one. A meeting was held at St. Michael's for the purpose of considering how to provide more church accommodation, and a strong feeling was manifested in favour of proceeding with the immediate erection of a portion of the Cathedral. On December 31st, scarcely a month after the question was mooted, a list of subscribers was published, and it was worthy of the enterprise, amounting to a total of £11,000. A deep feeling of interest prevailed throughout the settlement in this great work, and I may in a future chapter describe the laying of the foundation stone.

I think I have mentioned all the events of importance in 1862, which was rather a dull year; yet stay, I nearly forgot one important arrival in the Province, and that was the thoroughbred horse Traducer. It may be interesting to sporting men to know what was thought of the grand old horse on his arrival in Canterbury. He is thus described: – "Traducer, a perfect stranger in Canterbury, is perhaps on that account imperfectly appreciated. We have seen many better animals, good head and neck, very middling shoulder, capital back, barrel

loins and quarters, muscular thighs, but perhaps a little slender in the arm, and decidedly weedy below the knee. His pedigree is inviting, and for constitution, temper, and colour, we admire him greatly." Perhaps the circumstances under which he was imported are not generally known. Mr. Walker shipped him with some other thoroughbred horses and mares (amongst them Mermaid – the dam of Lurline) on board the Kensington, bound for Lyttelton. The voyage was a very long one, and the horse boxes were not well put together, so there was continual carpentering going on, and when the weather was rough, the poor horses got very much knocked about. The Kensington had to put into the Cape of Good Hope for water, provisions, &c, and Mr. Walker made up his mind to leave the horses there. Mr. Innes, a passenger by the same vessel, thought it a pity such valuable stock should be lost to Canterbury, made Mr. Walker an offer, and bought them all in the name of Messrs. Harris and Innes. Mr. Innes had new boxes made, and as the latter part of the voyage from the Cape here was comparatively calm, the horses arrived in fair condition. So to Mr. Walker and Mr. Innes we are indebted for Traducer, the sire of more winners than any other horse in New Zealand.

In the beginning of 1863, the Lyttelton Times has the following paragraph: – "This time twelve years ago, within a month from the arrival of the first settlers, the first number of the Lyttelton Times was published in the shape of a very small sheet, which was printed under great disadvantages in a shed by no means waterproof. The Lyttelton Times has expanded steadily with the growth of the settlement. One small sheet published once a week sufficed at first, now three good sized papers published three times a week are scarcely sufficient

to meet the demand for news, or afford the means of advertising required by the business of the Province."

The summer of 1863 passed away and left behind it traces which were long felt; there were few among the settlers that remembered such a season. Day after day passed, and still the scorching heat of the sun continued, often without the relief of the cool nights which are customary in this part of New Zealand. The country was burnt up from end to end. Wells dried up, creeks ceased to run, rivers dwindled to the size of creeks, before one refreshing shower came; and to add to this we had enormous bush fires everywhere all through the Peninsula. At Oxford, Kaiapoi, Arowhenua, and Little River was the destroyer busy. Thousands of pounds worth of valuable bush was destroyed, and large tracts of grass country were swept bare, to the great loss of the owners, who were not able to find food for their sheep. We have grumbled at the drought this season, but it is not to be compared with that of 1863. After fires came earthquakes, of which we had two slight shocks. But in spite of drought, fires, and earthquakes, we managed, to enjoy ourselves. I don't think we used to take such a gloomy view of things as we do now; we were more sanguine and hopeful. Our amusements were now fast increasing; beginning with the Regatta on New Tear's Day, which was better than any preceding it; we next had the Annual Race Meeting, which was the most successful one yet held; then came a grand promenade concert in Barnard's Horse Repository (now Tattersall's), given by the Canterbury Musical Society, assisted by Madame Carandini's Opera Company, which proved a splendid success, there being over 1600 people present, an unheard of number in those days. There were also two balls, one on

board the Shalimar, and the other on the Mermaid, both enjoyable gatherings. In addition to these we had musical performances of a higher order than any hitherto given. The English Opera Company, consisting of Madame Carandini, Messrs. Kohler, Sherwin, Small, and Salaman, were well patronised, so altogether we managed to enjoy ourselves.

Now a few words about the tunnel and railway. The Moorhouse tunnel was progressing satisfactorily, and on July 30th the workings extended to a length of 1067 lineal yards, viz., 521 on the Lyttelton side, and 546 on the Christchurch side. This was forty-nine yards less than two-fifths of the whole length – a result highly to the credit of the contractor. On the Christchurch side, the north tunnel front had been built of the Heathcote Valley greystone, and the brick lining had been carried through the soft ground to its junction with the rock, a distance of 136 yards. At that time the railway works for the Plains were in a forward state, the whole of the line from Ferrymead to Christchurch being ready for the permanent way. Two hundred tons of rails had arrived per Metropolis, and the first locomotive had been delivered at the Ferrymead station in good condition. I find that later in the year, the Christchurch station, a building of considerable size, was in course of erection, and the carriage shed had been commenced. Three carriages, two first-class and one second-class, were ready for use; also twenty waggons; and these, with another second-class and twenty more waggons that were on board the Fair Tasmania, completed the number intended for working the line.

I almost forgot to mention an important political event which took place in the beginning of this year, – I mean the resignation of His Honor the Superin-

tendent, Mr Moorhouse. It took everyone by surprise, and there was a general feeling of regret expressed that Mr. Moorhouse should feel himself obliged to retire from the office to which he had been so lately re-elected. I will quote part of a leading article from the Lyttelton Times: – "Mr. Moorhouse has held the office of Superintendent for five years, a period during which the Province has undergone all the vicissitudes of a young country. No man in high office can hope to pass through his time of service without much opposition and much severe criticism; it is only justice to the present Superintendent to say, that he has earned, both from opponents and from friends, a character for ability, perseverance, and an honest desire to do his duty by the public which will follow him into private life. To his energy and determination must be mainly attributed the successful prosecution of the greatest public work in this Province, and our readers have not forgotten how pertinaciously he adhered to his purpose through evil report and good report. Not only in the matter of the railway, but in many other great works affecting our future, Mr. Moorhouse's sanguine and active mind has, no doubt, given the Province a push ahead, and imparted an impetus to our progress. Mr. Moorhouse came into office an untried and inexperienced man; he retires with a wide experience of New Zealand politics, with an enlarged view of the responsibilities of office, and with the respect due to a man who has done his duty to the best of his ability in a difficult position. We cannot but say here that it is to the credit of the Superintendent that he has chosen a quiet and prosperous time to resign his office. We are informed that private interests have before called on him to retire, but he stood manfully to his post through a time of loud clamour and political agitation."

On Thursday evening, March 5th, 1863, Mr. Moorhouse delivered a farewell address at the Town Hall, which was filled to overflowing. He made a splendid speech, and when he had finished was applauded by the audience rising en masse and giving several rounds of hearty cheers.

We were spared the trouble of a contested election, as Mr. Bealey was the only candidate, and was elected Superintendent of Canterbury. I need not go into details of the elections. My next chapter will contain a description of the opening of the railway between Christchurch and Ferrymead.

8 Note by Pilgrim: Thatcher's last two words were in allusion to a certain lawyer in Christchurch, about whom Thatcher wrote a local song. The said lawyer was very irate, and called Thatcher a mountebank in a letter to the papers.

CHAPTER XVII.

CHAPTER XVII.

I WILL begin my seventeenth chapter with a description of the opening of the first railway in New Zealand, on Wednesday, December 3rd, 1863. It was one of those great events that form an epoch in the history of a country. The first portion of the first railway was opened, and the idea of its projector (Mr. Moorhouse) was thereby realised in part. Early in the day Christchurch began to look busy, and a stranger would have known there was something unusual going on, as flags and banners were displayed everywhere; unwonted bustle and excitement prevailed, and the road to the station was crowded with vehicles of all kinds laden with passengers, while numbers of pedestrians were to be seen making their way to the great centre of attraction – the railway station. I daresay some of my readers will remember the old station; we should think it very small now, for it was like some of the little roadside stations one sees in England in the country: but we thought a great deal of it then. The booking-office, the wool-store, and the engine-house had been decorated with flags, flowers, and evergreens, while on and about the small platform promenaded a number of well-dressed people, all in a state of great excitement, and seemingly impressed with the urgent necessity of shaking hands with everybody and as often as possible. Happy smiling faces met the view on all sides, and there was but one drawback, which was a howling Nor'-wester, and as a "Canterbury Rhymester" said: –

Among the dreary mountains, far up above the gorge,
There lives a potent demon, ever working at his forge;
A worker of the wind is he, a flatulent old buffer,
And he sends his manufactures down, that man and beast may suffer.

The Prince of the Air is roused from his lair,
And howls in his bullying might;
The gravel and dust are now mixed with the gust,
And the demons shriek out with delight.

Above all, about all, and through everything, and everywhere, circulated dense clouds of dust, which brought everyone to a state of griminess impossible to describe. However, there was one comfort – we were all alike; and the determination to be jolly was depicted on every face. A little way down the line stood the "Iron Horse" in a state of polished brass and oiliness, and quite indifferent to the excitement round him. He was from the workshop of Messrs. Slaughter, Gunny and Co., was of 50 horse-power, and could draw with ease a weight of 200 tons. There were also four passenger carriages, two first, and two second-class, and about thirty waggons. His Honor the Superintendent and party arrived about 2 p.m. in a carriage and four greys with postillions. The official party, consisting of His Honor, Members of the Executive Council, and Heads of Departments, then took their seats in the first passenger train ever drawn in Canterbury, and the train started at 2. 3 p.m. from Christchurch, arriving at Ferrymead station at 2. 13 p.m. The train then returned to Christchurch, when the carriages were soon filled with an invited party, and continued to run occasionally backwards and forwards till eight o'clock at night, to the great delight of the public; it was calculated that 3500 people travelled up and down the line that day. The goods shed was decorated with flags, and the pillars were covered with wreaths

of evergreens; at one end was the motto "God save the Queen," and opposite "Advance Canterbury," while on the walls were "Success to the Lyttelton and Christchurch Railway," and "Progress and Railways" – the arms of England and Canterbury being emblazoned on shields suspended upon the sides of the shed, at intervals. Upon two tables running the whole length of the building was arranged a magnificent dejeuner, reflecting great credit on the caterer, Mr. Birdsey. At four o'clock His Honor entered the building and took his seat, next to him being the Lord Bishop of Christchurch and Mr. Holmes, the contractor. The invited guests numbered about five hundred, and all being seated, a brisk attack was made upon the good things. Perhaps, the most amusing part was the picnician make-shifts of those who could not get seats at the table; down one side of the shed were a number of waggons, and some of these were made to do duty as sideboards; others were empty, and into these the seatless ones vanished, and catered for themselves. In one party of nine there were only three knives and two forks, and there was to be seen a gentleman vainly endeavouring to carve a large ham with a small penknife, while another was demolishing a turkey in a very primitive fashion, by trying to pull it to pieces. They were evidently not Good Templars, as they had managed to collect a goodly supply of the juice of the grape, Champagne and Moselle. I need not give particulars of the speeches, as they would fill up several pages. After the breakfast or lunch was over, everyone left the shed, and went on the platform to watch the arrivals and departures of the trains with delighted excursionists. There was a large crowd in front of the booking-office, and Mr. Moorhouse being called for by the populace, he was hoisted on the roof, and from this exalted position delivered a lengthy speech,

which was received with the utmost enthusiasm by the people, who wound up by chairing him and carrying him about on their shoulders. Everyone seemed pleased, and it was conceded by all that the carriages were good, that the engine was good, and the railway as a whole was good. Yet, stay! there was one exception – a disconsolate-looking Cockney, who remarked, "It's hall wery well, but the hengine does not screech henough."

Thirteen years before, a Maori track from Port Lyttelton to Christchurch was the only means of communication between the harbour and the great plains of Canterbury; the first Pilgrims had not arrived, and the only inhabitants then were a few pioneers and surveyors employed by the Association; Mr. Godley had but lately come from Wellington, to await the arrival of the first settlers, and the Bridlepath had been commenced on the Lyttelton side of the hill. Thirteen years before, those who were concerned in the future settlement might have looked forward to an early visit of steamers to our coast, but certainly the most sanguine – in December, 1850 – never expected to see, in 1863, a railway train running on our Plains, or to hear the shrill whistle giving notice of approach to the capital of our Province. The youngest of the original Provinces of New Zealand may be allowed to congratulate herself on having been the first to introduce those two great civilisers – the electric telegraph and the locomotive engine.

THE IRON HORSE.

Room for the engine – Clear the track,
Your seats now, please – Ho, there! keep back,
Shrieks the whistle with piercing cry.
Over the belted road we fly,
Sweeping along by cot and hall,
Fence and hedgerow, and ditch and wall,
Piercing the air with its giant force,
Hip! Hurrah! for the iron horse!

Steaming steed, thou art friend of man,
Short'ning space with thy iron span;
Commerce rides on thy flying car,
Binding towns that were sundered far.
Rapid herald of joy and peace,
Comfort, progress, and wealth increase
Along thy path and round thy course.
Hip! Hurrah! for the iron horse!

THOMAS BRACKEN.

I shall now pass over the year 1864, lightly touching on some of the principal events, condensing them as much as possible. The All England Cricketers paid us a visit in the early part of the year, and played twenty-two of Canterbury. I regret to say we were beaten. The scores were: – Canterbury Twenty-two, first innings, 31; second innings, 105. All England Eleven, first innings, 137.

It was this year that Messrs. Cobb and Co. started their line of coaches in Canterbury. In May, Mr. L. G. Cole and staff arrived in Christchurch with coaches, by steamer; horses came overland a week after. Coaches were at once put on for Lyttelton, Kaiapoi, and Leithfield, and a mail service to Timaru.

The next item of interest was the arrival of the Lyster Opera Company, engaged by our old friend, J. L. Hall; it was a spirited venture. The Company consisted of Madame Lucy Escott, Miss Georgia Hodson, Mdlle. Rosalie Durand, Messrs. Squires, Armes Beaumont, Wharton, Kitts, and Fred. Lyster. This was a great treat for those who had not heard an opera for some time; and though we may have had better singers since, I doubt much if we have ever had a better company as a whole. But what do my readers think of the prices of admission? 12s. 6d. for the circle, 10s. for the stalls, and 5s. for the pit! – And yet we went.

I now turn to a very different subject – the Cathedral. On the fourteenth anniversary of the province the ceremony of laying the foundation stone of the Cathedral was celebrated. It was a very wet day, to the great disappointment of those connected with the ceremony, as walking in surplices and with umbrellas from St. Michael's to Cathedral-square was not conducive to health or to the appearance of the procession. Service was held at St. Michael's at 9. 30, the church being well attended. The Lessons, as appointed by the Rubric, were singularly appropriate, the first containing the promise of the Almighty that the knowledge of Himself should be extended to the uttermost part of the earth, and the second giving an account of the missionary labours of the Apostles to those nations who were at that time "sitting in darkness and the shadow of death." After service the procession proceeded to Cathedral-square; the various Volunteer corps mustered in great force, numbering about 400; the square was decorated with flags, which hung limply down in mute reproach against the rain. In the square, where the stone was to be laid, was a raised platform for those who had to take part in the ceremony; a short service was held, His Lordship and different clergymen taking part in it. Mr. J. G. Hawkes then deposited in the cavity of the stone the bottle containing the inscriptions, printed on vellum, together with proof impressions of every coin in circulation. The Bishop then, taking the silver trowel, laid the stone of our Cathedral, the hymn "Christ, our Corner Stone, is laid" being sung by the choir. After the stone had been laid, everyone joined in singing the glorious Old Hundredth Psalm, and the Bishop pronounced the Benediction. The company then went to luncheon at Coker's new room in Cathedral-square. I need not enter into particulars about the luncheon, or the

toasts which followed. Thus ended the laying of the foundation stone of the Cathedral; yet, in the midst of the exultation felt by all on that day, so memorable in our annals, the thought would come, "How many of those present who saw the first stone laid would live to see the last placed?" "And one felt himself in the position of Xerxes, whose pride in reviewing his legions was checked by the reflection, that in a few years not one who saw that vast army start on its mission of victorious enterprise would be alive to witness its triumph." But when I look back and see how everything else has flourished since that time, I cannot but think that our Cathedral ought to be further advanced. I fear we are but luke-warm in our efforts; let us all unite together and finish the work, that some of us who saw the first stone laid may yet worship God in our noble church.

A conversation I had with a friend the other day here occurs to me. We were talking of the number of sketches I intended writing. I said, "I want to bring in three events – they are, the laying of the foundation stone of the Cathedral, the unveiling of the Godley statue, and the Opening of the tunnel." "Ah! I see," said, my friend, with a cynical smile, "the Ruins of Christchurch, the Iron man, and the Hole through the hill." I thought to myself, "The Ruins of Christchurch" – not inaptly named; but we shall yet make it a glorious, living Church. "The Iron man!" – Yes, iron in his unbending integrity; his earnestness of purpose, and his stern and ever present sense of public duty. "The Hole through the hill!" – Aye! the hole that let in a flood of prosperity on Canterbury.

I will now conclude this chapter by describing the illumination of the tunnel, which was thrown open for the inspection of the public, on December 26,

1864. The following is partly from the Lyttelton Times, and partly my own recollection? of the event: –

"It is impossible for any thoughtful person to visit the scene of busy activity, presented by the works of the railway, without being struck with mingled feelings of congratulation, and serious if not solemn reflection. The natural aspect of the locality is a striking one; those grand old hills, towering in their massive majesty, their rugged outline standing out in bold relief against the sky, seem to frown in stern defiance, as if triumphing at forming an insuperable barrier between the Port and the Plains; yet this obstacle is nearly overcome by the skill and ingenuity of man, and has been converted into a means of facilitating the intercourse it seemed at one time destined to obstruct. A railway in Canterbury; the words are quickly spoken, and almost as quickly written, yet they are fraught with the most important results, both to ourselves and to our successors."

It was a beautiful summer's day, with sky of the deepest blue, flecked with fleecy white clouds, a light breeze from the sea made the day all that could be desired, in point of weather. On arriving at the mouth of the tunnel, we found it decorated with evergreens. The number of candles used for lighting amounted to 3000, and they were disposed at intervals, in semi-circles, triangles, circles, pendants from the roof, and a row along the side walls. When we entered the tunnel, it was nearly full, and we were compelled to walk Indian file. The advertisement said there was to be a lime light, and the question often heard on all sides, was – "Where is the lime light?" Very little information about it could be obtained, but on going farther we came upon the great attraction; yet our expectations were not

realised. The light was enclosed in a box like a camera, and through the lens a bluish light could be seen, dazzling to look at, but its illuminating powers were very feeble, and it seemed too confined; however, it was there, and the public were satisfied. As might be expected, the ground was rough and uneven, and as we got near the red light, that showed the end of the work, we noticed that the water lay in considerable quantities. The ventilation was very good, even at the farthest extremities. There were no artificial means adopted with regard to ventilation, but there is no doubt that a natural current was established, the cold air rushing in below, while the heated air passed along the roof, and escaped at the entrance. The rock which was then being penetrated was extremely hard. At that time, 46 chains, or 1012 yards, had been completed from the Heathcote end, so that 900 yards more (500 on the Lyttelton side, and 400 on the Christchurch side) would join the headings in the centre. Two thousand two hundred people visited the tunnel that day.

Thus I bring to a close my seventeenth chapter, having covered two years in it. My next will embrace two or three years, as I intend to conclude with the opening of the Moorhouse tunnel.

CHAPTER XVIII.

CHAPTER XVIII.

I HAVE now almost come to my last chapter. The great event of the year 1866 was the election of Superintendent, it was a contested election, and created great excitement. The candidates were Mr. J. D. Lance, Mr. Moorhouse, and Mr. Travers. The contest, which had lingered over five months, closed on Wednesday, May 30, 1866. The voice of the people made itself heard most distinctly on this occasion, the votes polled for Mr. Moorhouse showing a majority of nearly two to one over those for Mr. Lance, who stood next. The official declaration of the poll was published at the Town Hall, the numbers being as follows: – Moorhouse, 1604; Lance, 881; Travers, 186; this result was most satisfactory. The new Superintendent entered on his duties backed by the voice of a large majority of the people, and the Lyttelton Times says: – "The Province will now, we trust, enjoy the repose which always results from a strong Government, and will be able to follow the course of uninterrupted progress and prosperity, which its great capabilities warrant in believing it will shortly enjoy."

The appointment of an Executive Council followed closely on the election, when Mr. Tancred accepted office as President, Mr. E. E. Stewart as Provincial Secretary, and Mr. Garrick as Provincial Solicitor, to whom was added Mr. Cass, a gentleman of large experience in the affairs of the Province.

I almost omitted to mention an important birth on July 8, 1865, and that was the first appearance of

the paper I wrote these sketches for – the Canterbury Times. The leading article contains the following extract: –

"The first appearance of the Canterbury Times can scarcely be called, the birth of a new journal. We are entering on a field which the Lyttelton Times was able to fill with tolerable success so long as it remained a bi-weekly or a tri-weekly publication, and therefore we feel that we stand on a more familiar footing with a large number of our readers than would be the case with an entirely new journal. Both in town and country there are a number of persons who find in the ordinary newspapers, hitherto published, whether daily or tri-weekly, something more and something less than they require. We aim at removing what is superfluous, and supplying what is deficient for the purposes of the reading public. The present number is submitted not as fulfilling all our conceptions, but rather as indicating the direction in which we propose to go."

The Canterbury Times was then a paper of eight pages, printed on good paper, and I have the first number now before me. The first page was devoted to literature, that is, a poem and a tale; the second and third pages to the news from the other Provinces; the fourth and fifth to shipping intelligence, and "Town and Country;" the sixth and seventh to Southern telegrams and correspondence, and the Miscellany, that is, gleanings of all kinds; the last page contained a long list of unclaimed letters, and a few advertisements. The proof of merit is success, and I am not singular in my opinion, that the Canterbury Times of the present day is the best weekly paper in New Zealand. Some months ago a copy of the Canterbury Times was sent to a gentleman of high standing in the West of England (he is the

President of the Agricultural Association there), and his opinions on literature, agriculture, and other matters connected with a weekly paper, are well worth having. I quote a passage from his letter, he says: – "I was very much pleased with the Canterbury Times, which, as regards editorial ability, seems to me equal to our London weekly papers." This shows the estimation our paper is held in Old England.

I now go on to 1867. The unveiling of the Godley statue took place in this year, and as it was considered an event in our history, I will describe it: – Tuesday, the 7th of August, 1867, was fixed for this event. The sun shone bright, and the deep blue sky ushered in a day to be famous in our annals, as on that day our young Province offered up its first act of hero worship. Many of the shops were closed, flags were flying in various parts of the town, and people began to assemble early in Cathedral square, the whole of Christchurch wearing a holiday appearance. The statue was covered by a veil of unbleached cotton, and in the rear of the pedestal was erected a flagpole, from which floated the Union Jack, which the friendly wind kept blowing over the head of the statue. The stands for the ladies were covered with canvas, and well supplied with seats. Shortly after twelve o'clock the procession started from the Government Buildings, preceded by the band playing "Auld Lang Syne." First were the Foresters and Oddfellows, carrying banners; then the Provincial Executive, followed by His Honor the Judge and the Very Rev. the Dean, the Resident Magistrate, the Chief Commissioner of Waste Lands; and finally the City Council and Town Clerk. A large number of people had already assembled in the vicinity of the statue. On arriving, the officials ascended the platform, and the Dean offered up an appropriate prayer; after which, the band struck up "Rule

Britannia," the veil was lifted off, and the people gave three cheers as they saw, for the first time, the statue of John Robert Godley, the founder of Canterbury. The statue, which was the work of Mr. Woolner, is well known to all who live in Christchurch; but for the benefit of those who have not the supreme felicity of doing so, I will briefly describe it: – The figure is upright, in a life-like attitude, and is dressed in ordinary costume; over one arm is thrown a plaid, while the hand of the other holds carelessly a wide-awake hat; the head is erect, the gaze being directed towards the horizon with an earnest enquiring look. One might fancy, indeed, that Mr. Godley was standing on the top of the Bridle-path, having climbed it for the first time to gaze on the Canterbury Plains. After the unveiling of the statue, Mr. C. C. Bowen came forward to deliver the inaugural address. I wish I could give it here, as it was a most eloquent eulogy of Mr. Godley's life and character, the concluding words were: – "In some future day, when this generation is dead and gone, to those who looked up inquiringly to the statue, it would be told how the fathers of this Colony left their homes and tamed the wilderness under the leadership of a man of heroic type; how, when he died, the representatives of that people determined to erect a monument worthy of his memory, and how a great sculptor, in executing the work, impressed it with the stamp of his own genius.

'So shall some old man speak in after time
To all the people, winning reverence.'

And now he would congratulate the City that this statue was to be handed over to its care, worthy, as it was, of admiration – like King Arthur's sword, of old, not only for the memory of a great man, but on account of its own intrinsic beauty; not like that

sword, to disappear from the eyes of men, but to be preserved by us and our successors as a possession for ever."

I heard it asked lately, "Why should John Robert Godley have a statue?" The answer is plain: John Robert Godley deserves a public statue, because be set before an infant Colony an example of spotless integrity, and of thorough devotion to honest, manly work; because to him we owe much of the prosperity we have enjoyed, and the high position Canterbury has always held among the various provinces. We cannot estimate too highly the advantage to Canterbury, then, now, and in all time to come, which was conferred by the example and precepts of John Robert Godley.

The Iron Man, aye fitly named,
All iron in his sense of right;
For virtues many he was famed.
He ruled us with a hand of might.

Our noble leader's passed away,
The founder of our favour'd land:
He's passed unto a brighter day,
His life, his death, alike were grand.

In May of the year 1867 we were all in a state of excitement about the tunnel, as it was known that the miners had almost made a "hole through the hill." All sorts of absurd rumours were floating about, that the miners had passed or were working parallel with each other, that the one party was working some twenty or thirty feet above the other, and such like; but on Friday, May 24th, communication was established between the two drives by the miners on the Port side breaking into a drill-hole sunk some days previously on the face of the Heathcote drive. After a few minutes spent in enlarging the opening, an iron rod was passed

through from drive to drive, and the fact was announced in Lyttelton by firing a salute of twenty guns. So the Moorhouse tunnel was in fact accomplished. The tunnel was not completed till December 9th, and on that day it was formally opened. The first passenger train left Christchurch at 9 a.m. on Monday, conveying a large number of passengers, and the journey to the mouth of the tunnel was soon accomplished. Notwithstanding the caution to all to keep the whole of the body inside the carriage on entering and passing through the tunnel, not a few ventured to put their heads out to gaze eagerly forward. Silently almost and smoothly, the engine entered, and immediately gave a signal that seemed doubly shrill; proceeding at an easy pace the train soon reached Lyttelton, the time being 6 min. 27 sec. "Amongst those who travelled to and from Lyttelton on that memorable day were many who had toiled over the Bridle-path hundreds of times, and the triumph mingled with regret with which they looked and spoke of that rugged old servant, must have appeared whimsical to anyone who had not tried his wind against the hill, and looked with delight on the prospect from its summit." No more puffing and panting, either from the Valley Hotel or from Lyttelton to the top; no more fierce Nor'-westers to encounter. The Provincial Council ought to have enacted a law that all immigrants should be compelled to walk over the hill by the Bridle-path, for if they were allowed to come by the easy road, which had taken us years to make, they would never fully appreciate the difficulties we had overcome. And so our great work was finished, and to it in a great measure we owe the prosperity of Canterbury, as, without the tunnel, we should never have been what we are at the present day – a prosperous, thriving people. The following extract is from the Lyttelton

Times, and may prove interesting to some of my readers: –

"The Mont Cenis and Lyttelton tunnels. – Among the many engineering works that are attracting the attention of the scientific world, there are two undertakings, which, on account of their unusual character, and the circumstances under which they have been commenced, are exciting more than usual interest. The greater of these works is the tunnel of seven and a half miles long, now in course of construction through Mont Cenis, undertaken at the joint expense of the Government of France and Italy, to connect Savoy with the great plains of Northern Italy – a work unparalleled for its magnitude. But perhaps of greater scientific importance is the tunnel nearly three-quarters of a mile long, which is being bored through the crater wall of one of the extinct volcanos of Bank's Peninsula in New Zealand, to connect the town and harbour of Lyttelton with the Canterbury Plains, undertaken in a country which thirteen years ago was an uninhabited wilderness, and carried on by the ordinary staff, and paid out of the revenues of a Government of a Province, whose population barely numbers 20,000 souls. These works have many points in common; there are also great and important differences. The Mont Cenis tunnel is being carried through stratified rock, which is sufficiently soft to allow of the application of boring machinery. The Lyttelton tunnel runs through volcanic formation, often presenting basaltic rocks of the hardest description, against which the boring machinery used at Mont Cenis would be useless. The continental work employs 1,600 men, under the direction of a large engineering staff; the colonial work is in the hands of a contractor, who employs only eighty men, and the engineering consists of the

Government Engineer and a single Inspector. The Mont Cenis tunnel is being done by day-work, and has cost up to the present time £230 per lineal yard; the Lyttelton tunnel is contracted for at somewhat less than £70 per lineal yard." The article goes on to describe the Mont Cenis tunnel in full, and also ours, and its progress, which I have already done. The first sod of the railway was turned on July 17th, 1861, and the tunnel was completed and formally opened on December 9th, 1867, the cost, according to contract, being £195,000.

In December of 1867, we heard with deep and lasting regret of the death of a dear and valued friend, Mr. Crosbie Ward, and I cannot do better than give some extracts from a leader in the Canterbury Times: – "The news of Mr. Ward's death has been received in this province with deep and unusual regret, and the Colony generally will not fail to estimate the loss which it has suffered – the early, and to human eyes untimely, death of a man in the prime of his intellectual powers, just as his lesson on statesmanship was hardly learned, and when the public had begun to rely on the promise of his future life. On July 1st, 1859, his connection commenced with the Lyttelton Times. On first embarking on this enterprise, which he did with his wonted activity, everything connected with a paper was new to him; but he undertook at once the general management, and till very lately was writing for its columns. It is now a melancholy pleasure to recall the exuberance of humour which he displayed in his first literary efforts. His vein was so rich and original that had he been thrown in the way of pursuing a literary career, this talent would soon have distinguished him from his fellows. His wit was so full of fun, so free from malice, and so genial, that although he hit about

freely, there were few who were seriously angry when jokes were made at their expense. * * * In the first two sessions of the General Assembly which he attended – those of 1858 and 1860 – he took comparatively little part; he spoke little, and then with embarrassment. His manner was that of a man struggling with a wealth of thought, but as yet unable to take a clear view of the necessities of the occasion, able more than most men to see what was to be said on both sides of a question, conscientiously desirous to do justice, but wanting the experience which was gradually to bring him practical decision. But while comparatively silent in the House, he was not idle, and he very soon commanded a position in the Assembly remarkable for a man of his age, and second to none in the Colony. In August, 1861, he joined Mr. Fox's Ministry as Postmaster-General. He at once began to display the administrative talents which afterwards made him so sought after, as a colleague, by leaders of different Administrations. * * * But the time was come when all political differences were to sink out of sight in the deep regret felt by men of all parties at his compulsory retirement from public life. For, when he took the office of Agent for the Province of Canterbury in England, it was felt by all who knew him that his career was nearly over. A fatal disease had got such mastery as to deprive him of rest, and make his life a protracted torture. From a letter that has just arrived, dated October 26th, 1867, we hear that he was doing his duty to the last with his wonted pluck, although not expected to live many days. Mr. Selfe writes: – 'Poor Crosbie Ward is dying, sinking fast; he will never leave his room alive; I think a few days will see the end; he is emaciated to the last degree, and suffers much. I saw him yesterday for a quarter of an hour, as he expressed a wish to

see me. His mind is clear, and he bears up gallantly; his pluck is wonderful, and he will die in harness.' The telegram did not mention the date of his death, but this extract shows us our old friend dying as he had lived – a brave, unselfish man, doing the work he had to do in this life with all his might, until death relieved him from his pain and from his labours. * * * New Zealand will find a niche among our departed worthies for one who, in his short career, had served her so honestly and so well, because he was just, and pure, and true in all his dealings; because he ever strove to do his duty before God and man; because he was manly and firm in his public conduct; gentle and kind in his private relations. Therefore, all love, honour, and respect, all tender regrets and gentle memories will gather round the early grave of Crosbie Ward."

CHAPTER XIX.

CHAPTER XIX.

IN the "Canterbury Sketches" I first published I ended with the year 1867; I intend now to give two more chapters on the principal events of 1868 and 1869. On Wednesday, the 5th of February, Christchurch experienced a most severe flood, caused by the overflow of the Waimakariri. Road communication was entirely cut off with most of the inland towns, telegraph-posts were broken down and washed away, and numbers of bridges were destroyed. By one o'clock of this memorable day, the banks below Madras bridge had been topped and the road on either side flooded; by this time large crowds had collected on all the bridges, and men were busy keeping the piles free from debris. I myself drove across the Victoria bridge, and the water was then half-way up the axles; half an hour after it was impassable. Shortly before three o'clock the overflow commenced at the bottom of Gloucester street, the river being level with the buttresses of the Government foot-bridge, Lane's Mill and Montreal street bridges, and flowing over Worcester street bridge. So rapidly did the stream increase in volume, that within a quarter of an hour, the road from Lane's Mill to beyond the Government Buildings was entirely under water, and the houses in the immediate vicinity were flooded; great apprehensions were entertained for the safety of Lane's Mill. The water now covered the greater portion of the waste land between the river and the Drill Shed, whilst on the left bank, below Madras bridge, the road was

impassable. At seven o'clock the whole of the block containing the Market Place and Post Office was knee-deep in water, and communication with both Victoria and Colombo street bridges was entirely cut off for pedestrians. The Golden Fleece Hotel had become the general stand for all the cabs in the town, and here after dark were collected a large number of Hansoms and four-wheelers ready to ferry people over the flooded land to the bridges. At half-past twelve next morning, the overflow had reached its full height, and shortly after it began to fall. Before this the Post Office was from three to four feet under water, while the flow from near the Government bridge had made its way up Gloucester street, and passing round Luck and Clark's office, had effected a junction with that proceeding from the Market Place. Mr. Hargreaves' office was the highest point reached in Cathedral square, and Dr. Deamer's house the highest in Armagh street. Cabs were flying to and fro at the Colombo street bridge the greater part of the night; and one man, in attempting to cross in the early part of the evening, was nearly drowned; fortunately, plenty of willing hands were ready to help him; the approach on the City side of the bridge had been partially washed away, and the man in question unfortunately stepped into the hole. I remember passing Dr. Barker's house and seeing all his kitchen utensils (pots and pans) floating out on the lawn, the kitchen, as some of my readers will remember, being very low. Another story was told of a gentleman who had been to a party, and on coming to the bridge he usually crossed, finding it impassable, had to dispense with some of his apparel and wade and swim through. The damage done by the Avon was insignificant, and sank almost into nothingness when the tales of suffering from the Northern districts were brought into consideration.

Never within the memory of the oldest European, and I might say Maori, resident have the rivers given such an example of their powers of destruction. Such, too, was the unexpected suddenness of the disaster that everyone was taken unawares. In the Kaiapoi and Rangiora districts, the accounts of loss and suffering were heart-rending; and the flood coming just at the close of February, when the crops were only just stacked, the loss to the farmers was incalculable; and what made it so hard to bear was, that wheat and barley were sure to have commanded a high price, and would have compensated for the losses of the year before. The fact that large stacks of hay and straw being lifted up and floated bodily over the fences and deposited in trim shape will give some idea of the force of the water. The loss of pigs and poultry was also very great, and the total destruction of the fences and crops in many instances was most disheartening to the young colonist. One very sad incident happened – the death by drowning of two little girls, daughters of a Mr. Wilkinson, living near Rangiora; the father was awakened in the night by a rush of water, and found it all round his house, upon this, he woke up his wife and children, and they started to walk to the Masonic Hotel, about a mile distant; they had got about half-way, when his wife and children got frightened with the rush of the water and clung round him. He got confused, and shortly after lost his footing, and knew no more till he found himself on a hillock in a field near the Masonic Hotel, where he had been carried, insensible, by the water. When he came to himself he cooeyed, and he fancied he heard a faint answer, which proved to be his wife, who was found to be in a very weak state. On leaving the house the water was breast high. The bodies of the two little girls were found shortly after.

Different opinions prevailed as to the cause of the outbreak of the river; those most generally entertained were, that it had been caused by a waterspout in the hills, or the upheaval of the river beds by the late earthquakes. Whether these opinions were correct or not, it is difficult to tell; it was said that some years before, there lived a Maori, who had seen the Ashley River running through Rangiora Bush, who foretold that it would do so again.

The arrival of Lord Lyttelton and Mr. Selfe was our next excitement, and a public breakfast and dinner was given in their honour. An account of the breakfast I quote from a paragraph that appeared in the Canterbury Times of February 8th: – "Seventeen years ago a band of adventurous men and women were on the eve of leaving England for a far-distant and comparatively unknown country. They were about to engage in what a very distinguished countryman of their own had called the heroic work of colonisation.

"These men and women were in a sense the infanti perditi of those who now make up the large population of Canterbury. To bid them 'God-speed,' to speak words of hope, and to infuse a spirit of union and self-reliance, an English nobleman invited the Pilgrim Band to meet him at a breakfast. He had taken a deep interest in the work they were about to engage in; from the very first he had given time, labour, and means to promote it; and he was the intimate friend of that noble-minded and good colonist who became their leader (John Robert Godley). The words of farewell were spoken, the emigrants left the land of their birth, they were safely borne to a new country. There were hardships to endure, and they were cheerfully borne; dangers to encounter, and they were bravely overcome.

Canterbury was founded amid many trials, many discouragements, and those whose honour it is to have been the Pilgrims of the settlement were joined by others from the Old Country gradually increasing in numbers, till the period of infancy was passed and that of boyhood begun. Waste places have been transformed into cultivated homesteads, and man's industry has already achieved in this small corner of the British Empire a work worthy of the oldest and wealthiest countries in Christendom. The English nobleman, who may be said to have officiated at the launching of our venture, who has watched our career in sunshine and storm with the utmost solicitude, who has aided us by his counsel and his means, is now our guest. The breakfast, which was held in the Town Hall, had in it elements of peculiar and significant interest. The entertainment was entirely confined to the early settlers of all classes, the exceptions including such persons as were connected by ties of close relationship to the pioneers of the settlement. It was truly an entertainment of no ordinary description, and by far the most interesting that has ever been held in Canterbury." The number there was about 250. I know, I did nothing but shake hands with old Pilgrims and their belongings. Mr. Fitzgerald occupied the chair. On his right hand sat Lord Lyttelton, Mrs. Fitzgerald, His Honor Mr. Justice Gresson, The Very Rev. the Dean of Christchurch, and the Hon. G. S. Lyttelton. He was supported on his left by H Selfe Selfe, His Honor the Superintendent, J. Selfe, and W. Wilson, M. P. C., T. S. Duncan, M. P. C.; and C. C. Bowen, B. M., filled the Vice-Chair. Whilst breakfast was going on, I could not help thinking as I glanced down the long tables and saw so many happy faces, looking prosperous and well-to-do, that their adopted land had proved a land of plenty to many of them.

Some I knew were not by any means well off when they arrived, but by their energy and industry had gained a position they fully deserved.

The Chairman (Mr. Fitzgerald) made a speech, proposing the health of our honoured guests, Lord Lyttelton and Mr. Selfe, which was about the most eloquent I ever listened to. I think I might quote a few extracts, and am sure my readers will read them with pleasure. He said, "That it now became his duty to propose the toast for the purpose of drinking which they hai met in the hall that day. This breakfast was something of the character of a return match. It was a breakfast given by those who accepted his Lordship's hospitality and that of the Canterbury Association on the eve of leaving the shores of England for Canterbury, who in return had now asked him to meet them, in order that they might thank him for all they had done on their behalf. If ever there was a moment in which one might be forgiven for feeling deep and heartfelt emotion, such was the present. When be saw old familiar faces which he never expected to see in this life, old scenes came rushing to his memory of the days when they laboured together for that object, the great achievement of which they had met that day to celebrate. Dreamers they were called, as all men would be called, who placed before it more than the busy world around them would call practical, and it was Lord Lyttelton who was obliged to bear the scorn as the arch visionary of their scheme. More than seventeen years had elapsed, and he saw around him that day 'the remnant of the forlorn hope of Canterbury.' Lord Lyttelton and Mr. Selfe need not be ashamed of what he could with justice term one of the noblest works of their lives. They were not all represented there, the doom of death had some-

what thinned their ranks; but if death had taken away the first colonists of Canterbury, it had not deprived them of their labours, their words, and their examples. These he hoped would live for ever in the hearts of the New Zealand people. He could hardly forget on landing on these shores that they had to regret the loss of two of their greatest friends, Edward and Henry Ward, a loss which had been embittered by the death of him who came to fill up the ranks of his brothers; Crosbie Ward had died in harness to the last, with all those distinguished abilities of which they all had been so justly proud. Nor could he speak of those who had passed from them without calling to recollection the name of him who was especially the leader and founder of the settlement – John Robert Godley. However he might attempt, in the presence of those who only knew him at a distance, to convey the character of John Robert Godley, he dare not speak of him in the presence of two of his most honoured and cherished friends, for he was sure such language would fall coldly on their minds, when they were so fully acquainted with his great worth. For his own part, the longer he lived and looked back on his memory, it seemed to loom larger and larger in the gaze, and as one of his dearest friends he could say of him, 'Eheu quanto minus est cum reliquis versari quam tui meminisse.' One remark he would make, and that was, that he only who knew the effect which was produced on a young and struggling community, could form any idea of the influence of the genius and example of that great man on the community he helped to found, and not on that community only, but on the whole Colony. He well remembered once when a gentleman whom they knew, loved, and justly respected more than any man connected with New Zealand

(he meant Mr. Weld), discussed with himself some of those difficulties and embarrassments in which the Colony, over which he then presided, was placed; he well remembered Mr. Weld saying to him, 'I wish Godley were here; I never took a step in public life without thinking what Godley would have said if he had been here.' That was a remarkable illustration of the truth how 'One being dead yet speaketh.' They had done what poor honour they could to the founder of the Colony by the erection of a statue, which any town in Europe might be proud to own, but which he hoped they had not erected merely in the hope of vain glory and ornament, but that those who come after him might be led to study the character of a man, who, although in a private station, and weighed down by the burden of ill-health, yet managed to work so much for his fellow-men, and for a community who knew how to honour its great dead. * * * * *

Another extract runs thus: – "He saw around him many who had nothing to regret as private individuals in coming to the country. The Very Rev. the Dean might have been at the head of the Church had he chosen to leave his curacy in Christchurch and accept a mitre in another settlement. He saw Mr. C. C. Bowen, who had risen step by step, and now dispensed justice with the same ability he formerly dispensed the moneys from the Exchequer."

He then went on to mention the names of Mr. Harman, Mr. Calvert, Mr. T. S. Duncan, Mr. E. Dobson, Mr. Cass, Mr. W. G. Brittan, and Dr. Barker; many of whom had held, and still occupied, places of trust in the Province. After speaking at some length on different interesting topics, Mr. Fitzgerald wound up a most eloquent speech by proposing the health of Lord Lyttelton and Mr. Selfe, which was drunk in the most enthusiastic manner.

Lord Lyttelton returned thanks in a telling speech, and proposed the Chairman's health, and said – He had already spoken of Mr. Fitzgerald at some length; he would say, however, that having spoken just now of those great and broad principles of colonization, for the success of which he believed they were more indebted to Mr. Gibbon Wakefield than anybody else, he believed that there was no one who could support and appreciate those principles better than Mr. Fitzgerald himself. They had to remember that those who attempted to achieve great things must aim far higher than they can ever attain. Next to Mr. Godley he did not know anyone to whom the settlement owed more for its foundation than Mr. Fitzgerald. (Cheers.)

Band – "The Harp that once through Tara's Halls."

Mr. Fitzgerald said he would accept the hint which had just been given by the band, and allow his harp to be mute in Tara's Halls. He felt sure he would consult their feelings and his own by saying as little as possible, considering the time he had occupied their attention already. He could only say that it was peculiarly gratifying to him to visit Canterbury again.

And thus terminated a most interesting entertainment, and one that will be long remembered by us.

Before closing this chapter, as chronicler of the chief events of 1868, I must not omit to mention the resignation of our ever-popular Superintendent, Mr. Moorhouse, and the election of Mr. Rolleston in his stead. In my next, I shall have to record what must always be considered a notable event in our history – the visit of Royalty amongst us – and devote the greater part to an account of the Duke of Edinburgh's visit to Canterbury.

CHAPTER XX.

CHAPTER XX.

I SHALL devote most of this chapter to the account of the Duke of Edinburgh's visit to us. He arrived at Lyttelton in H. M. S. Galatea, on the 23rd of April, 1869, where he was received with great enthusiasm. I pass on to his reception in Christchurch, which never before presented so gay an appearance; look where you would, the eye met what might be literally called a thicket of bunting. For weeks past the Duke of Edinburgh's visit had been in everyone's mind, and his landing in Wellington was the signal for preparations in real earnest, although they had been quietly going on, even before the Prince's second visit to Adelaide. Painters were as busy as they could be in painting transparencies, and impetus was given to almost every branch of trade. Wednesday, the day before his arrival, was a very busy day throughout Christchurch. The trimming of arches, the fitting up of transparencies, gas-jets, flag-poles, &c. &c, kept everyone busy.

The morning opened gloriously; it was Prince's instead of Queen's weather. At the Christchurch terminus, the decoration of the reception tent was actively carried on under the superintendence of Mr. Greenaway, the Secretary of the Horticultural Society; the tent adjoined the refreshment room, and was open at both ends; it was tastefully decorated with choice flowers, evergreens, pot plants, flags, &c. I need hardly describe the many triumphal arches, banners, &c, to be seen everywhere. There were

fully ten thousand people ranged along the route whence the procession was announced to come, long before the arrival of the Prince. The train entered the Christchurch station at nineteen minutes past eleven, stopping opposite the reception tent, where the Prince alighted, accompanied by his suite. This was a signal for a burst of cheering, the City Artillery at the same time commencing a Royal Salute. The members of the Fire Brigade and the Police lined a pathway across the platform, whilst the Mayor and City Councillors occupied the centre of the covered space. The Mayor then presented an address, which the Prince replied to briefly but pleasantly; he then, accompanied by the Governor and two members of his suite, took his seat in an open carriage drawn by six splendid black horses, driven by Mr. L. G. Cole. The procession having been formed, moved off amidst the cheers of the assembled multitude; the horses in the Royal carriage were restive during the ovation, but Mr. Cole's admirable command of them prevented any accident. The following is the order of the procession: –

Police.
Employes of the Canterbury Foundry.
Lancashire and Cheshire Men.
Members of the Iron Trade.
Butchers (mounted).
Oddfellows.
Band.
Foresters.
Maoris (mounted).
Steam Fire Engine and Brigade.
Clergy.

Carriages containing His Honor the Judge, the Registrar, and Mr. C. C. Bowen, R. M.
The Speaker of the Provincial Council.
The Sheriff and Crown Prosecutor.
Private Carriages.
Carriages containing His Honor the Superintendent and Executive Council.
The City Council.
The Mayor, City Solicitor, and Clerk.
Yeomanry Band.
Cavalry.
Carriage containing H. R. H. the Duke of Edinburgh.
His Excellency the Governor.
Carriages containing H. R. H.'s Suite.
Yeomanry Cadets.
Artillery Band.
Volunteers.

The detachment of police comprised both horse and foot, and were as near the model of such bodies in appearance, as could be. The employes of the Canterbury Iron Foundry had a magnificent banner; it was made of blue silk, and had a large locomotive engine in the centre of a circle of network, which had also circles of open space at each corner, filled in respectively by a plough, a reaping machine, wool-press, and flax-machine: all these ornamentations were worked in with gold. The Lancashire and Cheshire men had the traditional rush-cart, with four Morris-dancers. The members of the iron trade were preceded by a blue silk banner bearing their name on a white ground. The butchers were an interesting and attractive feature; they mustered upwards of

one hundred and twenty, mounted on fine-looking horses, and dressed in blue coats, with crimson sashes, breeches and boots. The Maoris numbered about eighty, and presented a clean, well-dressed, and novel appearance; the leading section wore a unique species of helmet, manufactured from white and coloured flax, and the remainder wore forage-caps, with white bands and a single feather; Pita Te Hori, in full costume in accordance with his rank, brought up the rear. The team attached to the Royal carriage did more than ordinary credit to Messrs. Cole and Co., who supplied it. Six horses jet black, and matched to a nicety, are not easily procured; and Mr. Cole handled his team in his usual masterly manner. The Volunteers brought up the rear of the largest procession ever seen in Christchurch; it was fully three-quarters of a mile in length.

The Prince attended a levee at the Council Chamber, and Mr. Anderson (the Mayor of Christchurch) gave a breakfast in honour of His Royal Highness' visit. It was a great success. There were innumerable healths drank, and speeches ad libitum.

An excellent feature in the loyal demonstration was the Public Festival, provision having been made that every class might enjoy themselves. To those who like a good dinner (and what Englishman does not?) this festival in Barnard's Repository proved a great attraction. The project was first started by the Popular Amusement and Entertainment Association, and was from the first warmly taken up by the public – large contributions, both in cash and kind, being poured in on the Committee; large, however, as was the supply of good cheer, the public were equal to the emergency. The street outside the Repository was crowded by an eager, hungry, and not altogether good-tempered crowd before the doors were opened.

The inside of the building was tastefully decorated with evergreens; the tables were set out in four rows on the ground floor, running the length of the building, groaning under every description of eatables, including roast beef, plum-pudding, together with plenty of good Colonial beer. There was seating for 500 people. At 1.30 p.m., the doors opened, and a rush ensued, the building being immediately filled. The doors were then closed until those seated had dined, when they retired by the other door opening into Hereford street – their places being immediately filled by others; in this way, not less than 1500 persons were regaled with a comfortable dinner.

There was a good story told at the time, and no doubt it was true. The Committee, who had worked very hard, and had succeeded in making everything go off well, intended to have a comfortable little dinner after the multitude had been fed, and in one of the loose boxes was locked up a small supply of wine for their use; but alas! "the best laid schemes o'mice and men gang aft agley." The Committee were seated, and one jovial soul said, "Now, let us enjoy ourselves; where is the wine?" The door was unlocked, but alack! the wine was gone! Some ingenious individual of an inquiring mind had sawn a bole out at the back, and no doubt had enjoyed himself, and with his friends' help had finished the wine; in fact, I believe this too ardent worshipper at the shrine of Bacchus was found, surrounded by empty bottles, peacefully slumbering.

'Twas the last glass of brandy
Had gone to his head;
The station is handy,
Oh put him to bed.
His head in the morning
Will be very bad;
Oh, boozer, take warning –
S. and B. can't be had.

One can imagine the disappointment of the poor Committee, and I suppose they had to solace themselves with Colonial beer.

The bustle and excitement of the reception proceedings now being over, the next item on the bill of attraction was the illumination of public and private buildings in the town; the streets were thronged with dense crowds of people, and the cabs were plying their busy trade to-and-fro incessantly. The night was calm, but there was rather too much moonlight, which interfered somewhat with the effect of the transparencies; they were, however, a brilliant success, and of sufficient interest to keep the streets busy till twelve o'clock. It would be impossible for me to describe the illuminations – it would take far too long, and would not be very interesting.

Before His Royal Highness' departure, a public ball was given in the Council Chamber.

The Royal visit terminated on the 25th of April, when the Prince sailed for Dunedin in H. M. S. Blanche; and judging from what His Royal Highness is reported to have said, he had greatly enjoyed his visit.

An interesting event that occurred early in 1870 deserves mention, it was the opening of our first Art Exhibition. It was held in the Museum, and was formerly opened on February the 8th, 1870, by his Honor the Superintendent, the time fixed being three o'clock; entrance was gained through the temporary building erected in front of the Museum; proceeding through the handsome doorway of the building the Exhibition proper was arrived at; there was a gay animated throng promenading to-and-fro; and a cursory glance showed that the building was well stocked with exhibits. At the north end of the floor

a raised dais, covered with crimson cloth, stood prepared for His Honor the Superintendent, and immediately behind were a number of musicians specially selected to assist at the musical part of the inaugural ceremony; they consisted of Messrs. Zinckraff (piano), Bunz (violin), Corrie (violin), Coombs (cornet), and Rowley (flute); they struck up Mendelssohn's Wedding March, and in a moment afterwards the Managing Committee came into the room, followed by His Honor, the Provincial Executive, the Right Rev. the Primate, Mr. Justice Gresson, and the Mayor of Christchurch; they formed on each side of the dais, which His Honor ascended. Mr. C. C. Bowen made a speech, on behalf of the Managing Committee, to his Honor. The following are a few extracts from it: – "The Exhibition promises to be of such general interest as to justify the Committee in asking His Honor the Superintendent to open it; the Provincial Government has already shown its appreciation of the objects of the Committee, as well by heading the list of guarantors, whose liberality has enabled them to meet preliminary expenses, as by allowing the use of the new Museum building for the purposes of the Exhibition; the public has responded to the invitation to forward works of art and objects of archaeological and ethnological interest with an alacrity and public spirit which is most creditable, and the attractions have been further enhanced by valuable contributions received by neighbouring Provinces. Many of the pictures which will arrest attention bear witness to the talent of residents in New Zealand; to those who are ever anxious to trace in present efforts a promise of future excellence, these pictures will be even more interesting than the works of those whose European name to a certain extent guarantees their merit. That the Museum building is inaugurated by such an Exhibition within

its walls, is a fair promise that in this Province Science and Art will proceed hand in hand, supported by a sympathising public and encouraged by a representative Government."

The Superintendent then replied in a scholarly eloquent address, I again give a few extracts: – "The occasion on which we meet is one of no small interest. The founding of a new Colony, the overcoming of material difficulties, the opening out of the country for settlement have hitherto furnished the principal occasions for congratulation on the success of our undertaking as colonists, and it is admitted on all hands that our material progress in the nineteen years that have elapsed since the foundation of the settlement does great credit to our industry and perseverance, and to the sagacity that characterised the first founders and rulers of this settlement.

"One great interest of the present Exhibition is, that it marks a period in our history, when for the first time we are able to gather together the works of Art, which are scattered here and there amongst us, as souvenirs of other days and other countries, and to place them side by side with similar collections, which have been forwarded from other provinces. I do not think, even if there is no further result than immediate pleasure and advantage which is derived by the intercommunication of a number of people, recalling together the memories of the past, and interchanging their ideas on subjects which are contemplated without the alloy which is mixed up with ordinary business and pursuits of life, that the Committee will have any reason to regret the great trouble they have taken in the origination and in carrying out the details of this Exhibition.

"The Government of this country will never, I trust, be behindhand in stimulating and encouraging

this great object, but its efforts will be futile, unless the sympathies of the people are cordially enlisted in the work. It will be by mutual co-operation and association that the effect of our work will be made immediately sensible, but science, virtue itself, is paralysed in an atmosphere of isolation. The great characteristic of the period in which we live, the peculiar development, if I may so term it, of the Christianity of our time, is the practical belief in our common brotherhood. The problems which are now agitating the minds of earnest men throughout the civilised world, is how to better the social, moral and intellectual condition of our fellow-men. Faith, that was the characteristic of a former age, is more ostensibly taking the place that has been assigned to it as second in the list of Christian graces, the motto of the age is, 'I count nothing strange that is human.' We may well congratulate ourselves if, even in a small degree, our efforts are permitted to tend in the age which we live, to the removal of social estrangement, to the cultivation of the intellect, to the refinement of manners, and to the elevation of character, by the study of all that is beautiful in Art and in Nature. It only remains for me to announce that this Exhibition is now open to the public."

My readers will see by these extracts what an eloquent address was made by our Superintendent, Mr. Rolleston. The Exhibition continued open for a month, and was a most enjoyable place to spend an hour or two; the collection of pictures was very good indeed, and arrangements were made to have concerts certain evenings at which most of our Amateurs assisted. I believe on the whole it was not a pecuniary success, that it really did not cover its expenses; that it was a success, as far as the public were concerned, cannot be doubted, and there was no doubt that they

derived a great deal o£ pleasure, and not a little valuable instruction from the Exhibition, "a high authority says that in no circumstances whatever can a man be made comfortable without Art which is the highest exercise of human nature," and it should not be forgotten that the study of Art affords relief from the struggle and contests of ordinary life.

I now bring to a close my twentieth chapter – the last but one. I might touch on many events that happened in 1870 and 1871, but it would take up too much room, and, as being so near the present day, would not be considered as interesting as events which took place in the early days of the settlement.

CHAPTER XXI.

CHAPTER XXI.

THIS, my last chapter, I have found very difficult to write. I first intended to cover a period of ten years, but from the difficulties of the task, I have given up the idea. To the Public Works scheme initiated by Mr. (now Sir Julius) Vogel in 1872, we certainly owe our present prosperity, and although there may be times of temporary depression in Canterbury, yet the material resources of the country will always bring things back to their proper level. The great political event which took place in November, 1876, was the Abolition of the Provinces; there can be little doubt that Canterbury now regrets the part she took in bringing about Abolition, the results including the loss of her land fund, and other benefits which accrued to the Province prior to Abolition being decidedly unpalatable.

To come down to the present day, we see the signs of progress and prosperity in this our adopted land. Our railways are extending all over the country, and, like main arteries, convey the life blood of Canterbury to and from its great heart, Christchurch. The line from Christchurch to Invercargill, a distance of nearly 400 miles, was opened last year, and speaks well for our progress. The lines of railway are also extending northward, and I hope the day is not far distant when there will be communication with the West Coast, so that we shall have trains running from there, bringing coal to Lyttelton, which will no doubt be the New Zealand station for men-of-war and large steamships.

I may here say a word on our harbour works, which were commenced in 1870 or 1871, and comprise a magnificent breakwater, a number of well-built and extensive wharves. Dredging operations have also been carried on, and, as instancing the improved shipping accommodation thus provided, it may be noted that the depth of water in the harbour which formerly averaged from seven to eight feet has been increased to an average depth of seventeen feet at low water, the expenditure up to the present time being nearly half a million. The work now in prospect is a graving dock, capable of docking first-class ironclads.

Our local manufactures and industries are also worthy of mention; we have only to read the report of our last Agricultural and Pastoral Association's Show in November, 1879, to find that New Zealand manufactures and produce formed a really grand display. "The entries under this head exceeded in number those of the previous year, while as a whole, the character of this year's exhibits showed a vast improvement on those of any former occasion." One of the most interesting in the section for colonial manufactures was the splendid display of woollen goods from the Kaiapoi and Mosgiel factories. The exhibits from the Kaiapoi factory comprised a large assortment of beautifully dyed skeins of fingering wool of all tints, flannels, blankets, stockings, shirtings, tweeds, &c, and were well worth seeing. The Mosgiel exhibits were similar in character to those shown by their contemporary, but one could not fail to see their superior finish. Their tweeds would compare favourably with those made in any part of the world, whilst their blankets and woollen goods could not be surpassed. Of course the Mosgiel factory is much older than the Kaiapoi

one, and probably has a superior plant. Fireclay goods and drain pipes, and pottery-ware formed a striking feature in the Show. "The collections exhibited by Messrs. Austin and Kirk and Mr. W. Neighbours were well calculated to show, not only the superior quality of Canterbury clays, but also the excellent workmanship which can be turned out here. No one could look at the exhibits of these two firms without feeling certain that a great future awaits the development of this branch of local industry." Another decided feature was the large and varied display of cooking ranges, as a whole they were most creditable to their makers, and should entitle Canterbury to a first place in this description of industry. In the section for cured and preserved meats, Mr. Mein showed a very good collection; a curiosity in the shape of a whole sheep cured and rolled was also shown. The bacon and hams were specially good, Mr. T. H. Green taking first honors. There were also prizes given for bone manure, preserved fruits, New Zealand wines, ale, porter, rope, leather, boots, saddlery, baskets, casks, &c. I must not omit to mention the show of implements, which was really magnificent, the entries being no fewer than 287. The above, collated from the Canterbury Times, gives a very good idea of our colonial industries.

I need hardly mention our Museum, which is far superior to any other in New Zealand. This is owing to the liberality of the Provincial Council (now, alas, defunct), and the energy and able management of its director (Dr. von Haast). I can also point with pride to our Hospital, Lunatic Asylum, Orphanage, and other public institutions, and our Churches of all denominations, scattered far and wide. I look back to the time when five clergymen did the whole

duty of the Province – they were the Very Rev. the Dean (then the Rev. H. Jacobs), who is esteemed and respected amongst us in no small degree; the Rev. B. W. Dudley (now Canon Dudley), who has grown gray in the good work, and is still labouring amongst us; the Rev. W. W. Willock (now Archdeacon Willock), who, to his friends' great sorrow, is laid upon a bed of sickness, from which he may never rise; the Rev. E. Puckle, who has been doing God's work earnestly in Melbourne for some years, and has attained his 80th year; and the Rev. Mr. Kingdon, whose present residence I do not know. I wish to pay a tribute of respect to those earnest workers in the cause of religion, and feel sure my readers will agree with me, that their unwearied exertions amongst us, when the difficulty of going from place to place was so great, deserve to be remembered by us with gratitude.

Of our social life in the present day I need hardly touch on, except to say that, as is usually the case in large towns, there are a number of cliques in Christ-church, and we are not so sociable as we were in the good old days, but that we can hardly expect. We have our lawn tennis, and garden parties, our archery club, our balls and parties, our at homes, our five o'clock teas, our concerts, theatres, and operas – in fact, we are "a slice of England cut from top to bottom," and follow in the steps of our Mother country as nearly as possible.

There is a subject I should like to say a few words upon, ere closing this chapter. It is that the working-man of the present day would do well to take a lesson from the working-man of early times, who turned his hand to anything, and was contented to take low wages rather than be out of employment. I could cite many instances of men, who are now

wealthy farmers; men who can give their children the best education the Colony affords, who send their daughters to good schools, and their sons to college; men who have gained their position and wealth, and the respect of their neighbours, by the honest industry of their hands; and well they deserve it. One instance I remember was a man who came out to Canterbury with a large family; he had a little money to start with, having been a small farmer in England; but not wishing to touch his capital, be resolved to go to work. He came to Riccarton and asked for a job, but it was a slack time, and there was not much doing; the only work the foreman could offer him was the cleaning out of some very dirty pigsties, so he said, "Well, my man, I have nothing for you to do but the pigsties; if you like to do them you shall have four shillings a day." The farmer said he would willingly do them, and so next morning he came in workmanlike clothes and big boots, ready for the task (which was something like the herculean labour of cleaning out the Augean stable); he worked so well that he was taken on permanently, and got on steadily from that time. He is now a thriving man, with large possessions, and is much respected in his district: this instance is only one of many. There would not be so many unemployed in Canterbury and elsewhere, if they went to work in the same spirit the early settlers did; they did not stand out for high wages, but took what work they could get; and what their hands found to do they did it with all their might. A friend said to me the other day, "Do you know what the unemployed really want?" I said, "I have a sort of idea." He said, "I'll tell you; they want nothing to do, and to be well paid for doing it." It is not quite so bad as that; but from what I hear, many of the unemployed will not go into the

country, they don't care about doing piece-work, and decline to take less than six shillings a day. I know well there are exceptions – men who will take low wages and do any work for the sake of their families, but I am not speaking of them. I allude to the agitators, and their followers; men who talk of the rights of the people, and would like to have liberty, equality, and fraternity established here. But these men will no doubt find their level ere-long.

There are many other subjects I might touch upon, but I think I have said enough to give a fair idea of what Canterbury is in the present day. And now to say what is always painful even on paper – "Farewell." I trust my readers will have some little pleasure in reading these Sketches. I have had great pleasure in writing them, and though they are not brilliant efforts of genius, they are simple and truthful records of the past years. So now with regret I say, "Farewell," and lay down my pen, having completed "Canterbury Sketches, or Life from the Early Days."

PILGRIM.

THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS.

MY FRIEND MR. BRACKEN

HAS KINDLY WRITTEN THE FOLLOWING POEM

FOR THIS LITTLE BOOK.

THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS.

Three halfscore years ago, – no more, –
Since Godley stood upon the shore,
A leader of the Pilgrims bold,
Who framed the New upon the Old,
And stamp'd the Old upon the New,
'Neath speckless skies of sunny blue.

Three halfscore years – and can this be?
Tis but a ripple on the sea
Of Time; – Oh! what a wondrous change,
Since o'er the ridge of yonder range
Hope led the Pilgrims, firm and true,
'Neath speckless skies of sunny blue.

They saw, from yonder mountain's brow,
Plains yearning for the spade and plough;
And where the naked rivers ran,
Vales waiting to be dressed by man;
Their help all Nature seemed to woo,
'Neath speckless skies of sunny blue.

They gave the breeze, that fann'd the foam,
Sweet farewell sighs to carry Home; –
But though old Albion was dear,
They saw a fairer England here
Awaiting them, the dauntless few,
'Neath speckless skies of sunny blue.

Behold their work! Revere their names!
Green pictures set in golden frames,
Around the City of the Stream,
Fulfil the Pilgrims' brightest dream;
With them a fairer England grew
'Neath speckless skies of sunny blue.

THOMAS BRACKEN.

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NOTES AT AN AUCTION ROOM.

THE FOLLOWING SKETCHES APPEARED AT INTERVALS IN OUR LOCAL PAPERS, I NOW RE-PUBLISH THEM AS GIVING AN IDEA OF CHRISTCHURCH IN THE PRESENT DAY.

(C. L. INNES).

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NOTES AT AN AUCTION ROOM.

NOTES AT AN AUCTION ROOM IN CHRISTCHURCH, 1878.

ONE day, when strolling through town, I came to the open door of a well-known auction room, and having a little time to spare, I went in and passed an amusing hour. The genial persuasive auctioneer, whom I shall call Mr. Smiler, was expatiating on the merits of three pair of fowls, which were making their voices heard, but not melodiously. I began to take mental photographs of the different faces round me. There was the thrifty farmer's wife, her pleasant face tanned a good wholesome brown, getting quite excited when she saw anything going cheap; her husband, good honest man, trying to restrain her zeal with a low spoken, "Eh, wife, we dinna want that." She was feeling with experienced finger and thumb some sheets and towels, &c, &c, and turning to her neighbour, a thin woman with an inquisitive nose and small bright eyes, said, "Thae things will do fine for our Jock, he's goin' to get married."

I next noticed a stout, good-tempered looking party in black coat, white waistcoat, and a good deal of gold chain meandering across it. I think he was of the Jewish persuasion; he was very polite and good-natured, and did not pull the things about and find fault with them, as many present did.

About this time a piano was offered, our friend the genial auctioneer praising it highly. A red faced horny handed son of toil, one of our "New Zealand serfs" (a man after Sir George Grey's own

heart), with hair to match his face, and a capacious mouth said, in a stentorian voice, "Let's have a toon" (he was slightly inebriated). Mr. Smiler said, "Will any lady or gentleman oblige me by striking a chord or two?" The inebriated one muttered, "Misther, you must be drunk, that planner aint got no cords to pull." There was a general laugh at this; when a woman then stepped forward, neatly but poorly dressed, who looked as if she had seen better days, and had a worn but patient face, and sat down at the piano. A change came over her face as she ran her hands over the keys, as if the sounds evoked memories of a happy past. I thought one might weave a pitiful little story; how she might have been a happy wife and mother with a pretty home. Death takes away the loving husband and father, leaving her but poorly provided for; she has to work for her children, and is just able to make a living. What memories might not the touch of the piano bring back to her! Was this her thought?

Oh! for the touch of a vanished hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still.

But let her not despond, there is one who has said, "I will be a Father to thee and to thy seed after thee." I turned sorrowfully away, when I heard a coarse voice say, "Come, old girl, play up; let's have, 'We won't go home till morning.'" There was a cry of "shame" in the room, as the poor woman looked frightened. Mr. Smiler thanked her, and she stepped into the crowd. Of course it was our rubicund friend that spoke; he bid £10, saying "He didn't want the pianner, but it was a some-think to start it." And as he used a number of unnecessary adjectives and became very noisy, Mr. Smiler in a quiet but decided manner snubbed him, and he disappeared.

A tall fair man now attracted my attention; he was good-looking and fashionably dressed; he wore an eyeglass, which ever and anon he used; a supercilious smile lingered on his well-cut features; his chin, "new reaped, showed like the stubble land;" he caressed a small fair moustache most tenderly – a cherished ornament; he looked at everybody and everything with languid contempt; but suddenly he caught sight of his manly form in a large looking-glass, a smile of intense satisfaction appearing on his face. There was something worthy of admiration.

Next was an old man in a battered white hat, in his shirt sleeves; he had a mean penurious face, and kept bidding ridiculously low prices for everything, and when remonstrated with, said, "Them things are for sale without reserve, aint they?" I should think he was very economically inclined, and as the weather was hot, had pawned his coat; he was not poor, as he would bid a high price for anything that took his fancy. He ran me up for some article I wanted, and when the price was quite beyond its worth, I let him have it; his face was worth seeing, he was so disgusted.

To a thoughtful mind there is both profit and amusement to be gained in a place of this kind; it makes one feel for our poorer neighbours, and wish to help them – not merely with money, but with what is almost as precious, sympathy. On the other hand, there is the amusing side, for what should we do without comedy, we have enough tragedy in our lives. I left the auction room, feeling I had spent a not unprofitable hour; and if the reading of this gives pleasure to one of my readers, I shall be rewarded.

C. L. I.

A SKETCH AT THE CHRISTCHURCH RAILWAY STATION.

A SKETCH AT THE CHRISTCHURCH RAILWAY STATION.

TRULY a prolific subject: would I had the ability to depict vividly all I saw one day at the Railway Station! It brought to my mind Frith's great picture. What a bustle, and what hurrying to-and-fro! What anxious faces! each intent on their precious luggage being carefully stowed away in the van. One fussy old party, with ruddy face and hair just touched with Time's frost, insists that his luggage is not in the van. The civil porter assures him he put it in himself, but of course he is not satisfied, and the whole of the luggage is turned over, and there was the small portmanteau at the bottom. I think the porter does not bless the old gentleman, who only grunts out, "You fellows are so confoundedly careless; I always see for myself." In the same carriage that I have ensconced myself, the better to observe what is going on, there is a lady, who insists on her husband getting out to count her multifarious packages. She says, "Porter, I have three bandboxes, three parcels, three portmanteaus, one box, a carpet-bag, a basket, and a bundle of shawls." Her husband – poor man – is trying to pacify her with the assurance that he has seen everything put in, but she is determined to see for herself; she does so, and talks the whole time. I pity the poor man – he looks so miserable; I am sure he wishes he were an elephant, and then his wife would only have one trunk. Alas for his bachelor days! Who would commit matrimony, with such a prospect before him? In the same carriage is seated an experienced traveller (not married, I am

sure) – his small portmanteau under the seat, his hat deposited in the netting, a sealskin cap on, his paper in his hand, prepared for his long journey. Trains coming and going, their engines bright and clean; porters tearing along with trucks full of luggage; boys rushing about with papers – "Here you are, sir, Lyttelton Times, Press, Canterbury Times, Commercial Advertiser, New Zealand Punch;" and any amount of light literature at the bookstall. It is indeed a busy scene.

There go some buxom dames, with their blooming daughters, no doubt going shopping to spend some of their eggs and butter money. Following them are a couple of stalwart, ruddy men – a good type of the New Zealand farmer; they are enjoying a crack about the coming harvest. One says, "Weel, an' how are the crops looking, Tam? are we going to get a good hairvest?" "Aye, my man," said the other; "the wheat's looking fine this year." Canterbury has been a land of plenty to them; they look thriving.

Here come a tribe of children, fresh from school, with their mother. It is Saturday, and they are evidently going home, and have been buying toys lollies, etc., etc., to judge by the parcels they are carrying. One little blue-eyed mite, that I longed to kiss, says (holding up a pretty doll, worth about ten shillings), "Me dot dis doll for mine sixpence." I see by the smile on mamma's face what she has done: when little blue eyes said, "Me would like dat doll for dis sixpence," she went and bought it, and her pet will never know that it cost a good many sixpences.

The trust and faith little children have in their mother's power to do everything for them is a blessed feeling. We, children of a larger growth, ought to have the same trust and dependence in our All-wise

Father, but we lack it sadly; and often when we wish for some fancied good, and it is withheld, we are discontented, and murmur at our lot. My own experience tells me that we should at times be thankful that our wishes are not granted.

I saw rather a curious sight while standing on the platform. A man, who looked like a foreigner, dressed as a sailor, with gold rings in his ears; he had something on his shoulder, and on looking closely I saw it was a large brown rat, quite tame; it kept nestling its head into his hand most lovingly, and was not at all alarmed at the noise around it. It looked about with its black bead-like eyes quite unconcerned. 1 wished to speak to the man who had so strange a pet, but he was just off by the train to Port.

Just then I heard sounds of music outside, and found it was the Italian band that go about – a violinist and two harpists. They play well, and, I am told, entirely by ear. I bestowed the large sum of sixpence on them, and they at once struck up "The Last Rose of Summer," which I had asked them to play a fortnight before. They had a sense of gratitude which Tallyrand defines as "a lively sense of favours to come."

One sad sight was a woman, who had almost lost the semblance of womanhood, reeling along, helplessly intoxicated. A man in that state is bad enough, but a woman inspires one with feelings of utter loathing, as our great Will, says, "Oh, thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, we will call thee Devil." My friend, Thomas Bracken, thus writes of –

THE VILEST FIEND OF ALL.

What are thy crimes? yon soulless thing
Was once God's image, pure and fair.
Yea, fiend! as witnesses I'll bring
Lust, hatred, murder, and despair,

To prove thy guilt; the fiercest flame
That burns below, where sinners fall,
Is fed by thee! Remorse and Shame
Proclaim thee vilest fiend of all.

Oh, God of justice, God of right,
Why is this world so full of woe?
Why are souls withered by this blight?
Is this the working of Thy foe,
The rebel sire of sin and crime,
Who makes Thy likeness Man his thrall?
Oh, Father, shield our new-born clime
From this – the vilest fiend of all!

I remember rather an amusing anecdote about a woman who was given to imbibing, and was also of a saving disposition. She made up her mind, after a good deal of persuasion from her mistress, to take the pledge, and went to a Good Templar's meeting, and there signed it in due form. She came home, and went to bed; but, sad to say, in the morning she was unable to get up; she was "evidently suffering a recovery." On inquiry, it was found, she had finished half a bottle of whisky that was in her box; naturally she was rather the worse for it. When asked what made her break the pledge, her answer was a characteristic one – "Shure, mistress, I wasn't goin' to whaste the good ould whisky, av course I drank it, and, by the sane token, it's mortal bad I feel this mornin'." I fear there was not much hope for her reformation, even if Father Hennebery took her in hand.

As it was now getting late, I left the station, well pleased with all I had seen.

"This sketch is completed and closed like the day,
And the hand that has written lays it away."

C. L. I.

ST. PATRICK'S DAY IN CHRISTCHURCH.

ST. PATRICK'S DAY IN CHRISTCHURCH.

MONDAY, the 17th of March, 1879, was set apart in Christchurch as a holiday for the Kaitangata Relief Fund, and of course I was there, to see the procession start from the Theatre. What an immense crowd had assembled! our country cousins came out in great force. I stood at the corner of the street and saw the procession file past. Who is this stalwart knight, in bright armour, heading the procession? His visor is up, and we can see those manly features. Surely I recognise him; have I not seen him, when, afraid of a coup de soleil, I went to get a pith helmet. All hail, Sir Hulbert! We greet thee, most puissant knight of head gear! Another knight follows, and then comes the Marshal in Naval uniform, his honest face beaming with delight, and I can almost fancy I hear the words – "Going, going, gone!" issuing from his lips. But, lo! who is this of kingly presence, with his majestic spouse, seated in a carriage drawn by four grey horses? We doff our hats to bluff King Hal. (the very much married man), and Queen Katharine of Arragon. Long live King Ick! Here comes a waggon-load of strange figures – clowns, niggers, and sailors – I could not recognise half of them. But, soft; who is this graceful being, clad in virgin white, on a milk-white steed? Can this be the beauteous Godiva? I struggle through the crowd; for if there is one thing I have a weakness for, it is the female form divine; but, ugh! it is an old and ugly woman, with a large night-cap with frills, and – dare I say it – a robe de nuit. I turned my head modestly away, but she is wafting kisses to

the crowd, quite unabashed at her costume, or, rather, want of it. A carriage now passes, in which reclines the portly form of Sir John Falstaff. He is in gorgeous array, with plumed hat, and a smile of intense satisfaction adorns his rubicund visage. Ah, Sir John, when you get up to the Cricket ground, "you will sweat to death, and lard the lean earth as you walk along." A conveyance then passed bearing some demonlike forms scattering programmes; they are printing them as they go along. And here comes the Press in all his glory. He is dressed in a light and airy suit of newspaper. I see the Press on his back, the Globe in front; down one leg the Lyttelton Times, and the other the Canterbury Times; round his ankles the Weekly Record and Message of Life; a large inkstand on his head, with a pen in it. A waggon now passed with the King of Pain attired in a handsome dressing gown. He looks most venerable and wise, with his white hair and beard. A poor toothache-cursed victim sits at his feet, imploring relief. The King administers the cure; but as I went to four streets to see them pass and the unfortunate individual always bore the same anguished expression of countenance, I suppose it took some time to effect this; let us hope he was relieved at last. It would be impossible for me to particularise all the gay and festive Councillors – it would take too long. There were two good Bands, and then a long procession of Foresters, Oddfellows, Druids, and other Friendly Societies.

I went up to the ground; there was an immense crowd; Richardson's Show seemed the great centre of attraction. I went in, but the atmosphere was that of a Turkish bath, so I did not stay long. The game of cricket was splendid; it is a pity they did not play the All-England Eleven. I am sure the Muffs would have had a glorious victory. Where all

distinguished themselves, it would be invidious for me to particularise. One thing I missed, and that was to have my fortune told by the Mystic Lady. I should like to dive into the mysterious future, and see if that dread autocrat, my Editor, is going to give me a rise of salary (which, of course, I deserve). As I strolled through the ground I heard one or two amusing things, by keeping my ears open. Two gaudily-dressed servant girls, with at least four different colours on, passed a quiet-looking girl, neatly dressed. They spoke to her; she just nodded in a friendly way; whereupon one of the damsels, with a Migg's-like sniff, exclaimed – "Oh, my! aint we hup in the world now we're a pupil teacher!"

Further on, I came across a man who was far from sober. A mounted policeman came by, and, stopping near us, dismounted to tighten his girths. The inebriate one staggered up to him, and throwing his arms round his neck, said in touching, if slightly indistinct accents, "I shay, ole man, I'm not qui' well; letsh me have you' hoss to ridish shome. You my frien', an' I likish you; letsh have a glassh of branny and warrer." The policeman, a solemn, dignified party, stood stiff as a ramrod while being embraced. He then handed his affectionate friend over to another blue-coated functionary, "who took him up tenderly and with care," and passed him outside.

In the midst of all this gay scene, where everyone seemed happy, the thought came – "Those poor widows and fatherless children whom we are working for, what must their feelings be at losing the breadwinner, their sole support and comfort? But we did what we could for them, and raised a handsome sum. A very fine poem was written on this sad event, entitled –

IN MEMORIAM:

AN APPEAL.

The touch of God is on the chord which runs
Through all humanity, from heart to heart
The Hand Divine, that holds the stars and suns,
Strikes on Love's strings, and inner voices start,
Proclaiming we are each of each a part.

The Priest of Nature may expound this truth,
Afflictions are but solemn lessons read
To mortals; Science still is in her youth;
The living gain their knowledge through the dead.
All human suffering points the road ahead.

It may be so; anon we'll learn that text,
But now the widows' and the orphans' eyes
Are following from this life to the next
Loved spirits torn away from dearest ties,
And God to us is speaking through their cries.

He calls on us to succour those in need,
We're bound together in a common bond;
Faith's purest action is a noble deed,
Hope's truest anchor is a helping hand,
Love is the key that opes the doors beyond.

A few short days ago, and those who rest,
Held this poor lease of earth which now we hold;
The pulse of life beat strongly in each breast –
Ah! 'tis the same old story, often told,
We know not when the spark may leave the mould.

Oh! brothers, there are weary hearts to-day,
And cheerless homes where sorrow sits in gloom,
And lonely weeping ones, who can but pray,
"Thy will be done!" whilst bowing to their doom,
And longing for the meeting 'yond the tomb.

Not ours to change the mystic second birth,
Not ours to bring the loved ones back again,
But ours to do our duty upon earth
By succouring the mourners who remain;
To them we're linked in sympathetic chain.

To-day, Humanity's resistless breath
Sweeps through the credal barriers, and brings
Us all together to the Church of Death, –
And common fold of toilers and of kings;
And Charity broods o'er with outstretched wings.

To-day the pure Christ-Spirit, from above,
With warm vibration thrills through every soul;
To-day we owe a sacred debt to Love;
To-day Our Father claims a special call
At gates which lead to Hope's eternal goal.

THOMAS BRACKEN.

CHRISTCHURCH ON THE CUP DAY, NOVEMBER, 1879.

CHRISTCHURCH ON THE CUP DAY, NOVEMBER, 1879.

THE week which has just closed has always been considered the carnival of the year. I, unfortunately, could not go to the Races; and, on taking my usual constitutional round the town, I resolved to give my idea of the misery of being in Christchurch on the Cup Day. Nearly all the shops were closed, and the town looked deserted. One lonely cab was on the City stand, and in the pathetic words of our great poet, Thomas Moore, (slightly parodied) –

'Twas the last Christchurch cabman,
Left mourning alone;
All thy busy companions
To the Racecourse have gone.

I must leave thee, thou lone one,
To pine on thy stand,
While thy former companions
Are doing the grand.

If it was not the last cab, I did not see another. The forlorn driver looked up and down the deserted street, in expectation of a fare. When he saw me, he gesticulated wildly, in the vain hope that I might be going to the Races; but I shook my head. His hopes were blighted, and he collapsed on the top of his cab in a limp state.

Passing a confectioner's, I looked in; the presiding goddess – a living testimony to the good cheer of the establishment – was gazing mournfully over the counter. A solitary salad stood there, but it seemed

to say, "Let us alone, we are withered." Buns, cakes, tarts, mutton pies were laid out in tempting profusion. Taking pity on her, I went in and bought a penny bun, she beamed with gratitude, and no doubt will think kindly of me in future years.

Walking down High street, I met three people; they all had the same oppressed, discontented expression. I felt the reflex of their gloom spread over my own face. I sympathised with them; the story our faces told was, "We ought to be at the Races; about this time the Cup is being run for; would we were there!" I tried to comfort myself – as people always do on such occasions – with the thought that I was better at home than amongst any amount of "sweeps," and no doubt I should have indulged in a bet or two, and as my bad luck is proverbial, should have lost; but such comfort was vain. I next turned up Hereford street, and went into the Public Library. In the Reference Room were several studious parties hunting up abstruse questions of no possible importance. Here, at least, I should not be reminded of my solitary condition, but even here I heard the word "races" uttered in a hollow whisper. I left in disgust the race-desecrated temple.

On my way home, I came across a group of small boys. What were they doing? I stopped to watch them. They were passing round a hat, and each taking out a piece of folded paper, one exclaimed, "Hurrah! I've got Betrayer!" "I'll give you a bob for him, Jim," said another. "No fear," said the small boy, "I'll stick to him." I again fly from the race-infected scene; the spirit of gambling is inherent in everyone, I believe.

I passed a public-house; the barman looked the saddest man. He was studying last night's Star, and I am open to lay a mild bet, that he was reading the

account of yesterday's racing. As he saw me his face lighted up, but I passed on, and it darkened. Here comes one who will surely be a customer; he looks s seedy party, who has not tried the salutary effect of a bath for some time; he hesitates, feels in his pockets, and goes in. The barman's face is radiant. "Good evening, what will you take, sir?" he said with a genial smile. The Seedy Party says, with an off-hand air, – "Have you any Roderer, gold seal?" Barman: "Yes, sir; the very best." S. P.: "No, on second thoughts, I won't have it. Can you recommend your still Hock or Moselle?" Barman: "Certainly, sir, we keep the best wines in town." S. P.: "Have you ice?" "Yes, sir," said the Barman. The Seedy Party drawls out, "Then bring me a bottle of your very best ginger beer." At this unlooked-for announcement the barman's face of disgust was a study; he duly administered a glass of the very flattest ginger beer. The Seedy Party drank it, and then producing a penny, handed it to the barman, saying, "I'll owe you the rest," decamped.

People were now returning from the Races. I saw a friend; I rushed up to him and exclaimed, "Well, old man, what won the cup?" He replies, "Betrayer, and, by Jove, I clear a hundred pounds." I register a vow mentally and solemnly, then and there, that I will go to the next Races, and that never, never again will I be found in Christchurch on the Cup Day.

C. L. I.

THE AGRICULTURAL SHOW.

THE AGRICULTURAL SHOW.

OUR Canterbury Show is now a thing of the past, having taken place on the 12th of November, 1879. Of course, I went to pick up material for a sketch. I leave it to more experienced judges to comment on the merits of the stock exhibits, and only give my impression of the Show taken as a whole, including various little incidents I saw. Wednesday morning was fine, and the delicious coolness of the air being an additional incentive for holiday-making, people began to pour into the grounds the moment the gates were opened. About noon there were one or two heavy showers, and the change in the weather was viewed with consternation by the fair sex, who, no doubt, wished to display their pretty dresses; but Aquarius proved propitious, and our dear old friend Sol showed a smiling face. The scene on the way down defies description – carriages, buses, cabs, buggies, and vehicles of every kind, were seen on the road, and also crowds of people walking. On arriving at the gates there was a great crush, but my experience of a Christchurch crowd is, that everyone is very civil, you may get rather squeezed, yet all look so good-tempered, it is impossible to be angry. I at once went to look at the horses. The draught stock were more fully represented than last year. In the young stock the competition was very close, and I heard it said that a finer looking lot of youngsters could hardly be beaten in the Old Country. There were seventy-four draught horses entered, and it took the judges five hours to examine them. The class for

blood stock was not so well filled as last year, and the animals shown did not give the visitors a fair idea of this class. I missed the veteran, old Traducer, and should have liked to have seen him again.

I was standing looking at the busy scene with interest, numbers of people all intent on pleasure were passing to-and-fro. I saw a young couple, the woman carrying a baby, evidently the first; the man looked rather bored, as his wife kept asking innumerable trivial questions, such as, "Why do they plait the horses' tails, John?" I could see he was dying to get away to have a quiet look at the cattle and sheep, but his better-half(?) said, "John, you must carry the baby." He answered with a smile, "Na, na, lass, I canna do that, my han's are fu' o' tobacky; ye maun carry him yersel." She looked disgusted, and muttered something about "his nasty pipe." I fear poor John got a curtain lecture that night. I next paid a visit to the cattle and sheep. There were a number of bucolic-looking men hanging over the rails discussing the various good points of the animals. I believe it was the best show for both cattle and sheep that has ever been held in New Zealand. I noticed another young couple leaning over and inspecting a very fat sheep. I imagined she was afraid of the ponderous animal, as he was holding her hand on his arm; but why they were so much interested in the adipose beast I failed to see, and wondered if they were calculating how much it weighed, or how many pounds of candles it would make; and as I am always anxious for information, I listened to their conversation, and this is what I heard – "And does she love her own George as much as ever, Pet." She answered with a sweet smile, "More than ever, darling." I saw it all; they were just married, and

it was their honeymoon. I wonder if next year they will follow the example of my other young couple, and when she asks him to carry the baby, will he decline. I daresay he will, as lover and husband are two very different individuals. I now came across a very fat, good tempered looking dame sitting on the grass, a lot of children around her, partaking of mutton pies and ginger beer. I spoke to her, she looked so jolly, and I said it was a nice day, not too warm. She laughed and said, "Och, sure, it's warum enough for me, an I be afther takin' a rist. I'm too sthout intirely." I said, "Well, you look very happy and comfortable." "I am that," she said, "and I bliss the day we left the ould counthry to come here; we've prospered, thank the Lord." I said, "good day," and left her thinking what a blessing is a contented mind and a grateful heart. I then looked into the Flower Show, and the display of flowers and plants was magnificent. I heard that His Excellency and Lady Robinson were very much pleased with it.

It would take up too much space to describe the different exhibits that interested me. I now turned to make my way to the gate of egress, when just then I saw a very happy individual, who had certainly been imbibing something stronger than lemonade: he was very jolly; and when his friend who was with him said, "Come, Dick, let's go home." He replied with a very solemn and dignified air, "I'm all ri – , I'm beaufool, you're beaufool, everything beaufool;" and seeing an acidulated prim looking woman approaching he said, "You're a divine creecher; I should like to kish you" (he must have been inebriated). His friend pulled him away, and the acidulated female, looking the picture of virtuous indignation, said, "Take your misguided friend

away, young man, or I shall be under the painful necessity of reporting him to the police authorities." Our jovial friend remarked, "He must have a drinksh;" and they disappeared. I stood for a while and mused; and as I saw the busy crowd the thought came to me, such is human life. We are all moving onward down life's river towards the ocean of eternity, and but a few short years will pass, and many of that busy crowd will have gone to that "undiscovered land from whose bourne no traveller returns," and our place will know us no more. Like a stone thrown into the bosom of a calm lake, a few ripples come and go, and all is still. So with us, a few ripples of grief, but all goes on the same; we are forgotten (save by a few); our place is filled up. But a truce to moralising. I soon reached the gate, hailed a Hansom, and went home, well pleased with my visit to the Agricultural and Pastoral Show of 1879.

C. L. I.

[POEMS]

LINES ON HEARING A WOMAN SICK UNTO DEATH SAY,

"I dreamt I saw Jesus, and he said, 'Come here.'"

I.

I had a wondrous dream one night,
And oh, it was a glorious sight!
Jesus my Saviour stood quite near;
He beckoned me and said, "Come here?"

II.

He turned and onward went His way;
I strove to follow night and day;
The road was rough, I longed for rest;
But still I thought of His behest.

III.

I followed Him – a toilsome road;
I knew full well it led to God.
I saw His Hand still beckon me;
I struggled on, His Face to see.

IV.

At last when worn, and faint, and sore,
I fell, and thought to rise no more,
Jesus my Saviour stood quite near;
He raised me up and said, "I'm here."

v.

Oh, blessed dream! 'twas from above;
From Him who is the God of Love.
To me it was in mercy given,
That I might long and hope for Heaven.

C. L. Innes.
Nov. 13, 1879.

LINES

Suggested by the Look on a Little Child's Face, on Hearing the Murmur of the Shell.

I.

My bonnie boy, what do you hear
As I hold the shell to your listening ear?
Do your hear the surge of the billows bright
As they break on the shore, their foam so white?
You raise your innocent, wondering eyes
To mine, with a look of sweet surprise,
And I ask, "Baby, what does it say?"
You cry "boom, boom," in your pretty way.

II.

'Tis the voice of the great sea, baby dear,
The murmur of Ocean that you hear.
It speaks of the joyous, sparkling sea,
As the vessel bounds o'er the waves so free;
It tells of storms, fierce, wild, and dark,
And the fate of many a gallant bark.
Hold it close to your ear and listen well,
'Tis the soft low murmur of the Shell!

III.

Ah! baby darling, how will it be
When you sail alone o'er Life's great sea?
I trust 'twill be calm, happy, and bright,
With very few storms, my dear one to fright;
And when Life's voyage is over and past
May you reach the Haven of Peace at last.

C. L. Innes.
Dec. 10, 1879.

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