FROM HOME TO HERE.

Dominion, Volume 4, Issue 963, 2 November 1910, Page 7

FROM HOME TO HERE.

PER S.S. ARAWA. PICTURE IN GREY AND GOLD. THE IMMIGRANT. "Fellow Traveller" sen<ils to Thb Dojiimont the following rather touching picture of tlio grey past and gold hopes of tlie average immigrant. Ha writes:—"Arrived Arawa from London, 40 first saloon, 69 seaond, 34G third"— such is the brief press notice, and- the eye of the city merchant glanoca through tho summary -of cargo; and' then passes on to the condition of tho money maxket, and tho prices which are obtaining for wool in London. Little thinks he what the arrival of such great immigrant- ships really means, of the living freight of prospec-. tive oolonists which she carries, of tho hopes and fears, tho joys and sorrows, of her hundreds of passengers who, discontent with Home conditions, and trampled down by 'the tyrannous, havo crossed three oceans in search of homo and i happiness. Little does he comprohend what it means to New Zealand that the accommodation on every steami'r leaving London for here np to 1 the end of the year has already been booked right up to the very last cabin, that some, denied a berth, steal on board as stowaways, and content themselves with a "shake-down" anywhere, and that specially, fitted cargo steamers are being dispatched to cope with' tho mighty rush 'of emigration.

Last Tug Sceno Off Tilbury. Oil September 16 the Arawa swung fr*™ London docks, and steamed slowly down to her anchorago off Tilbury - . Presently a noisy tug churned across the muddy Thames and forged Under the side. Her decks were black with people—miners from . Cornwall, mm-workers from Birmingham, bard* Scotch farmers-men from all trades, and gathered from all corners of t-he United, Kingdom.. Presently she turned her prow once more to the shore, to return m half an hour with another living load. And then-still another! On board the - tag - all is 'chaos. Passengers are laughing, weeping, jostling ofie another, ruslnng after stray items °f,'j lg J= a S. < r> or-talking feverishly in excited family groups. , There is so'much to be said in this last half hour, so many endearing messages for thosa lett behind, so many solemn warnings for those leaving.the hearth and home, perhaps never to return. An oli lady who has never before smelt salt water solemnly complains that "it'a cr ff?£ shame that there are'no seats on this steamer" (the tug). "Do they expect us to stand all the wav to New Zealand?" But what of lhlt scene ■ when tha CTeat bell clangs out its warning to friends and relations that their hour of grace is finished? : What of the tears, the anguish of parting, the brave smiles that hide the aching tetWpen."\ Bnt are n^

'Thus Bit By Bit the. Emigrants •? ■«,« lle i 1( i nB VfW round the Capo cannot be other than tedious, but everything is done by ihe ship's officers (especially the long-suffering': and genial purser) to make tho time pass S w 5 1' ■ c P\une comes aboard at the Equator, and solemnly baptises a contJn g e n t of volunteer novices, 10l _tne good old days when all and sundry were shaved and soaked . are gone for ever. .After leaving the Cape ue take thfr 'great circle," which," quickly brings us into the laud of-con-tinuous. rain and biting cold. Ono would naturally think' that the emigrant would, find the long, cold.nighta very tedious, but suolr is by no mean® tho case. On the Contrary, an energetic committee arranges some amusement' tor every evening, and many of tho afternoons—concerts, sports, dances, debates, and- lecture?. A "New Zealand night is given, whereat all tho speakers are New Zealinders returning home from a trip to , the Old Country, and ar perfect ' bombardment of questions is hurled at them from prospective fanners, artisans, minors, and clerks. night is devoted to short half-hour .lectures on rabbits, S an i other snbjerts.of general inkiest- Thus, bit by bit, the emigrants get to know about the country ' thev propose to settle in, and to equip themselves for the very different conditions which they will have to face.

The Fit and the Unfit. fl^ d / re hcSo . altogether fitted for the conditions obtaining in tho colonies* Alas, there aro many who will never wait to see the fall of the loaves. Some are England's > outcasts, men who never succeeded ■ and never could succeed in the Old Country,' and wh,o have imagined that tho road to success in a new country is broad, and easy of.asccnt. Others are men wlio have been tramod in some obscure branch of 0110 of England's great industries, and who will land' in the dominion only to find'that hero there is no market for the fruit of their hands, no mill'for them-to-grind their corn m. Still a tliird class aro competent enough, but during tho voyage they have i drunk away their little substance, and sare landing in a now country destitute, and in many cases in debt. _ But there is a brighter side t? tho pioture. Many aro practical farmers with capital behind them, 1 and such the country will receivo with open arms. Many are sturdy, steady-going, clean-lmng workmen, skilled in some particular line which is flourishing in JNow Zealand—coal-mining, farm-labour-ing, carpentering, bricklaying— and these'will not be long out of a job. And among tho ' women aro many domestic servants, who will no doubt be eagerly sought after ore they hava been a day ashore. .

, M To-Morrow Will See the Scattering.™ | -As the'great steamship slips past Pencairow Lighthouse and glides gently up to hor anchorage, how varied arid yet how. alike are the thoughts of all these hundreds of souls who are looking for the first. time on the land which henceforth is to be their oiiiij their homo! What does the future hold in store? Now at "last the long, long dreams of past years, the dreams of a time of happiness and comfort, of peaco and plenty, is about to end in this the first morn of thoir new 'life. Pray God the dream may' be realised in its fulness I To-morrow will see the scattering. Trains and steamers will whirl them away to their new labours, thoir new splioro of usefulness. One humorist voices the opinion of all: "Ai least thero is a glorious uncertaintj in the new life; there was a deadly certainty about the old—a certainty of continual ' poverty mid miomling drudgery."