SLY GROG SELLING.

Bay of Plenty Times, Volume II, Issue 116, 11 October 1873, Page 3

SLY GROG SELLING.

Ohinemutu, October 6.

TO THE EDITOE, Sis, —From very good information I can positively assert that, some weeks back, some liquor, viz., rum, was seized by Lieutenant Bluett’s orders at the Niho o te Kiore, it having been sold there in large quantities without a license. I can also assert, Irom what I heard from Lieutenant Bluett himself, that the liquor belonged to a native of Ohinemutu, and that the said native had written to him what, so far as his knowledge of law goes, was a confession of having sold the liquor. It was thought advisable by that worthy officer to refer the whole of the evidence to the magistrates of the Kotorua district, since which nothing has been heard of the affair. As the lynx eye of the law has already reached and fined two Europeans in this district on aboriginal or Maori evidence,* I cannot understand why natives only should be allowed to break the law with imnunitv.- —I am, &g., J XJ3TICS.

The pursuit for information (says the Thames S tar) is sometimes attended with difficulties, even in San Francisco. One inquirer, who applied to the Chronicle for information as to whore Cain obtained his wife, is cruelly rebuffed, the only reply vouchsafed being this ;—“ Upon any subject of a public nature we never refuse to throw the desired light. But this ia altogether a different thing. It is a family matter with which we do not care to meddle. Cain died before any of us were born, and such idle curiosity regarding the family affairs of a deceased person wo regard as reprehensible, and calculated to violate the sanctities of domestic life. For these reasons, and because we do not wish to injure tbs feelings of the relatives of the deceased, we decline to anoWe r the question,"

I My impressions of tauranga Lex me see—what arr my impressions of Tauranga bea-sick anti seedy, I recline in the cabin ot the Southern Cross, feebly attempting to read. IS ever mind what 1 am reading; but i may mention incidentally that I have lumrd a novel lately written by Puck—no, by Outda—spoken of as calculated to cause the weak-minded to open Ins eyes. I am dimly aware that folks are talking about the Hoads, or Head, being in sight. I make a s* struggle to the poop. .Looming in the distance I see a sugar-loaf with the top knocked oil, dyed a blueish grey, and magnified up to some unknown power, which X am informed is the Head in question. My own clears somewhat under the influence of the fresh breeZe, before which the little boat is bowling along, and which, aiding her steam, soon shoots us past tho saccharinely suggestive mount, and into the harbour of Taumnua. I see that a broad estuary on the right affords a 11 silent highway ” { !’ ,<> unnumbered acres of luxuriantly fertile land, impatient ly awaiting the husbandman at tho foot of tho hills that bound tho view in that direction* I may, of course, be wrong both as to the fertility and expanse of country on tho look out for Agricola Rideus Hodge, but the mixture of soda and J 3 the steward considerately brings mo just now is reviving, and somehow nature generally doesn’t wear quite so funereal an aspect as it did an hour since. e glide alongside tho wharf (glide, I believe, is tho correct word to use on such occasions but on second thoughts I don’t think there was was much gliding about it, unless an infirm and imbecile crab, undecided in his choice between two or more lines of progression, and alternately trying all, may be said to glide) and I sally forth to the township- Hero I am rather perplexed. Two hotels, both, 1 am told, excellent, invite me to enter, and partake of tho appetizing meal, certain savoury odours induce mo to believoare only waiting to be consumed* I wander about for a time undecided j when my perplexity is increased by espying a third caravanserai somewhere up a hill. (is)ho who hesitates is lost. I toss for it. Heads, Masonic ; tails, Tauranga. Up goes the coin, and down it comes uppermost a . No ! nothing abort of the rack shall induce me to divulge the distinctive appellation of the host elry that hospitably L’kes charge of my box of paper collars and my tooth-brush. Mr > that is that sort of advertisement. Good wine needs no bush. (By the way, what does that last sago sentence mean ? I never knew ) dinner 1 stroll out to see the Hons, and naturally enough first visit the cemetery. Now I wouldn't for any consideration do or say anything to wound the amour propre of the free and independent electors of Tauranga, and so I hope they will discover no

hidden slight in what Xam about to say. Were the question asked any but those directly interested in the township and its neighbourhood: 1 ‘ 'W’hat fact or circumstance in connection with Tauranga interests you moat ?” and were the answer fairly given, what, think you, would it bo ? The prosperity of its inhabitants P The beauty and fertility of the surrounding district ? The number and breed of its flocks and herds ? The harmony and good fellowship that characterise the community ? Its present great good luck in having three candidates for the Superinteudenoy alternately expending on it their blandishments and their cash ? None of these, as I think—but u Tauranga was the scene of the Gate Pah tragedy S M Kind Taurangites I pardon me, at least, if I say that as I tread the turf beneath which sleep their last sleep those who there fell, iaui read the simple record of fe oir deaths, yonr mportance, your prosperity, your amiability, great as I allow them all, are forgotten, and I think only of that morning when valour, loyalty, and traditional glory availed little against the wily (and plucky) Maoris, whose representatives now throng your streets. Was it Southey or Shelley who wrote these lines :

4f An Indian grave ! ■what memories awake, What thoughts arise as the hushed words we breathe! Again we see the murky morning break. Where shroud-like mists the bivouac enwreathe: Lurid the sun as the red soil beneath Falls on what yastere’en were comrades, friends. Their clay, bho’ the clay cover, they bequeath To Fatherland a name that lives, and lends New lustre to the patriot sword that land defends. * * # * * “An Indian burial ground ! who, lingering there. When urn and pillar cast a spectral shade ’Neath the round moon, and sighing zephyrs bear Soft odours on their wings, and Night, arrayed In all her tropic loveliness, has made More calm and holy still the hallowed ground ; Who has not heard, and, heard, not obeyed The spirit voices breathing clear around And yearned for loftier glories than the tramp can sound!

Who ever wrote them, they are suggested to me now by the fact that many who lie here had but latelyarrived hither from the “Land of the turban, minaret, and palm,*’ Whose scenes inspired them. I see that there hare appeared lately in this journal certain comments on the state into which the cemetery has been allowed to fail, so on that head I, a stranger, say nothing. A shower driven me back to my hotel, where, amidst the clouds that rise from my modest briar-root, like incense before the shrine of Mnemosyne,lthinkof ather clouds that have rolled over other lands, and dimly through the haze and smoke see forms, once as erect and dauntless as were those who on that April morning leapt over the half bidden parapet, and who now, after life’s fitful fever, sleep as soundly and as well. Holloa t there's the tea bell! By Jove I I was going to give my impressions of Tauranga, and instead here have I been indulging itr sentimental twaddle about a few fellows dead ages ago. That won’t do. I'hat's not colonial S All right, Mr Coming! An remir. Q.M.P.