AKAROA, OR THE HAPPY VALLEY.

Akaroa Mail and Banks Peninsula Advertiser, Volume VII, Issue 649, 3 October 1882, Page 2

AKAROA, OR THE HAPPY VALLEY.

By Silas Wegg. " Be.uitiful beyond words, full of peace and rest." Yes,"those were, I remember, the fir:-.t words that broke from my lips involuntarily when I fist gajwd at the llnp;>y Valley. I stoo.l on the su , limit of a lofty iiioiuKiiin, part, of a chain of ve.rd.tnt hills tliat guard the entrance to Aonba, and divide it from the toilsome world. T ;e scene was indeed marvellously beautiful, and in contemplating it, »ns coa'.d feel how wise were its inhabitants in choosing the euphonious appellation of A<irak;i, which, translated, nu-aris "The Lmd of Rest.' , Ah I before said, the valley was encircled by a gigantic chain of hills, on the higher peaks of which was a carpet of virgin snow, through which fern.s and mosses of exquisite beauty forced their marvellous tr icery of emerald. The sides of the hills were in part clad with a verdant carpet of fragrant grasses, but many of the spurs were still clothed with the primeval forest. And Oh, what a foiest! Not a hideous collection of weird Eucalypti, not a serried rovv of monotonous pines, but a wondrous collection of green and amber shades, which the sun kissed with a loving delight that glorified every spray. This wondrous variety of foliage was tenanted by thousands; of birds, whose gay plumage and musical voices gave an additional charm to their own loveliness.

Tlie di'iiii of hills ran round the v.illey, being only divided in one place, where, between two mighty bluffs, the ocean found its way, to form a pc icei'ul lake; nl the bottom of the valley. It was indeed marvellous to note how even the mighty ocean itself changed it* chancier i:i the " Land of Rest." Outside the heads the greit waves were rolling against the rocks I with whitened crests, tint inside they laved the land lovingly, and wore calm as the hushed lake of Galilee, save where here or there they broke into ripples of mimic laughter, and danced in'the sunlight. Here atiii there tiny wreaths of smoke showed where the ho ues of the Aorakians sniig'y nestled, and far away, in a dreamy ho ; low, the white houses of the capital gli-tened in the gardens that surrounded them. I who gazed at this scene had visited many climes. I wish this particularly stated, in order that if these chronicles ever see the light (and I have given orders that they shall ader my death), that my readers may understand that it was no uneducated eye that was entranced, but one that i<.id seen the glories of the Old and New Worlds. I am an Englishman, named plain John Smith, and, in the service of Her Majesty, have visited many lands, but never did fairer vision greet my eyes than when I crossed the saddle and looked down on the valley of Aorakn. High as I was when the vv»w me, I was yet within a few yards of a human habitation. It was a resting-place for the weary from the outer world, and was known to some as the Gar-wood House on the Hill Top, no doubt in reference to a particular sort of timber. Others, however, with a charming poetical allusion to the many tiny streams in the vicinity, called it the Brooks Hotel, a pretty conceit that is worthy of mention, more especially an I understand that some coarse ruffians (not true Aorakians, but wanderers from me (itiiur world) had given it the horrible name of the brick-land place—no doubt because some clay in the vicinity was considered peculiarly suitable for building purposes. The effects of the scene and the peculiar atmosphere upon me were marvellous! On the other side of tiie range a breeze that had played amongst the icebergs of Uiu' £>oi!t!)';iii 0 can. had strung my limbs iiiiu ;ii:tiiiii as [ useciided : but. wiieu once

I li, d trrnNwd t.'ie saddle, *• ii energy swmed

to deptrt, and a delicious languor spread over me. a feeling of content in the present, aiirJ contempt for the restless struggles of the outer world. My mind wandered towards diuamy tilings—the lotus eaterH, Phwiymioti, and that channi 'g period of the loves ol Cupid and Psyche before wretched energy and excitement mads the happy owner of the boy god's adoration insult Boinnus with the fat!il taper. It was with difficulty indeed tlint I roused myself and proceeded to tho hotel, where, having speedily satisfied my material wants, I fell asleep to the murmurs of the zephyrs amongst the tree tops, and the trickling of the tiny streams.

But it is limb I should relate how I came to think of visiting a place so much in contrast with the scenes of ray past life. I am one of that great body who have done more for civilisation and progress than all the rest of the world together. I am n civil engineer, and for years had been carrying on the work of progress in America and British India. In the latter place I had been (-truck down with a terrible fever, caused by the malaria from a pestilential swamp across which we were constructing a railway. Tended by a native to whom I Imd shown a little kindness, the fever at hist left me, but in such a debilitated state that al l chance of my ultimate recovery seemed hopeless. Whilst I lay prostrated, however, my faithful attendant consulted one of those strange niystios only to he found in the East This curious being, after long questioning, announced that tiie only way to save my life was to send me to the islands of tha Southern Se.is, where I was to seek the Valley of Rest, when I should recover my heahh and poaee, but only after undergoing deadly peril.

It would be needless lo recapitulate my journey, suffice it to say that it was with extreme difficulty that the shattered wreck of. the once burly John Smith was kept alive till the Happy Valley had been reached at last.

The morning after myjarrival I left the Gar-wood and proceeded down the valley, and as I folio ,ved the sinuous windings of the road I laughed at the mystic's warning of the danger 1 was to encounter here, for it seemed to me ridiculous that peril could intrude into a scene of such perfect peace. It is true that the rest of what he had said had come lo pass, but danger here seemed impossible. Why, the very workmen on the road were quite unliko our restless navvies! Instead of sturdi y proceeding with their work, as those independent Britons are wont to do, the Happy Valley laborers seemed glad to accost me, and, resting peacefully on their tools, told me tales of rustic I a.jpiness. Even when I left them they did not rashly resume their labors, but quietly glided back, as it were, into occupation, with such a gradual momentum, that for a long time it was almost impossible to tell whether they were at work or not.

Downward I went, the eye every moment resting upon n.'W beauties, till I reached what is knewn as the Latter end of the road. Here some huge ruins disfigured the otherwise perfect landscape. They were cvi lentiy the work of some prior race, who had tortured tlie glorious trees i to prim boards and hideous scantlings, but one could see that such signs of acti viti'hiid long pas-ed away.

I shall never forget that walk, the sense of the beauty of the scene impressed inn so strongly. A thousand, entile fed upon n thousuid hills; a thousand lam l >K gam bulled beside their pensive nioth-rs; the liomesipjids nulled snugly in cos}- nooks ; the, birds carolled their spring ; th>» (lowers perfumed the air; and it wis villi a sense of gratitude tint I have seldom felt that I thanked God that I hnd been permitted to witness this entrancing sight. It was late at night when, after a pleasant journey through the 13<ys, whoso brilii.in green slopes spread into the calm bosom of the trnnquiUised ocean, that I reached the capital, a description of which merits another chapter.