Saptized in the flood.

Hawke's Bay Times, Issue 1530, 2 December 1873, Page 34

Saptized in the flood.

A TRUE STOM 01 NEW ZEALAND. [t'ROJI SPAXGLES AMD SAWDUST.] 'XT VEU been in New Zealand ? No ? Xi. Then I'll tell you about that too. It's a wild place, New Zealand, the West Coast of it, that is. A very wild place, mountains, prepuces, forests, rapid rivers, lofty cataracts, ice, and snow; but 0, such scenery, such scenery ! Wild, savage, grand, gloomy, mysterious. Nothing like it in the world that ever I've seen, and I've travelled some, too. I've often wished,. when I was there, that I had been a painter, a picture-painter I mean; or a poet, or an author, or something that I could tell the world what I felt. We oniped one night in a place called the Otira Gorge, and a terrible place it was to get at, too.

Wc were going over from Christcliurch to Hokitika, ami had to travel slowly, for avc were heavy, and didn't know much about the road, not but that the road itself was good enough, but then, steep hills, dee]) valleys, rapid rivers,- narrow sideliugs, and so on, made us cautious.

First night wc camped at the foot of Porter's Pass, and then we wore amongst the ranges. Xext night wc stopped at the Cass, a deep valley amongst a lot ot mountain lakes, and through which a wide shallow river, with a bed of huge boulders and pebbly shingles, ran. '.Next morning we crossed the Bcaley river, a deep and dangerous stream, and then, along narrow ledges, up one hill, and down another, over swamps covered with saplings and branches; up, up, up, amongst the snow to the to[> of a saddle in the great dividing range, and over that, down the descent into the Otira Gorge. What a drive it was down that steep mountain side. A narrow sideling, cut into the face of the rock that overhung us on our left, and that fell away sheer perpendicular, hundreds and hundreds of feet below, to the bottom of the valley, where, from the top, even the big trees looked only like small shrubs. Locked in by mountains, down which the waterfalls and cascades leaped with a sullen plunge, the valley below looked like a deep pit out of which there was no egress. Turning sharp angles, and sweeping round graceful curves, now hidden, now seen, lay the road, still the rocky wall on the one hand and the rocky Ml on the other, until feelingvery nervous, even when all the danger was over, wc reached the bed of the Otira river, which had looked like a silver thread amongst the yellow rocks and dark bush from the top, but which we found to be a wild torrent, rushing madly amongst the boulders and huge rocks that lay scattered over its bed. Reaching the bottom, we crossed the bridge and rattled gaily along a winding road that led us into a wide open valley, bounded by forest-clad hills, where the giant Tercmakau spread over its vast bed of shingle and granite boulders. On a gentle grassy slope, near a dark pine wood, and at the mouth of a sparkling mountain stream, wc camped and slept, Beautiful as was the night, with the broad white moon shining coldly into that quiet Jow lying valley j still more beautiful

I was the morning, when the first of the I sunlight crept slowly down the steep mountain sides, dyeing them a delicate I rose line flaked with glistening white, | as it kissed the bare summits ; a dark I purple as it lit up the sombre upper I bush, and a rich vermilion as it blazed j on the clustering masses of red rata j blossom. Ah, a lovely place, sir, in I the fresh early dawn of a summer's ! morning. ' But when the rain falls and, the j floods come down, it is terrible to be | amongst those rugged hills, to listen to j the hoarse thunder of those rushing i rivers. We experienced both. We went on to Hokitika, thence to

the Grey, and the Bullev, and then back. We had been doing fair business, and started bade from Hokitika for Oliristchiirch on Monday morning, with money in our pockets, and in good spirits. We crossed the Arahura early in the morning, but in the forenoon the rain came on, and by the time we reached Taipo river it was coming down ji steady down-pour. Wc tried hard to reach the treacherous Taipo in time to cross, but when we got there wc found that the ilood had already come down, and that it was running bank high in a, wild chaos of whirling and boiling water. The Taipo, the Devil's Uiver of the Maoris, is perhaps the most dangerous to font in lS r ow Zealand. You can never depend on it for ten minutes together, for on the slightest rainfall or melting of snow in the ranges, the Hood conies down like a wall, and at the best it has a rapid enrrent, and a rough shifting bottom. It has three

channels where it is crossed by the road ; sometimes the stream runs in one, .sometimes in another, sometimes in two, sometimes in all three ; usually, however, in the middle and deepest one, over which there is a hanging bridge constructed of wire anil light timber. This is for foot passengers only, of course, and no more than one can cross'

at once. It is safe enough, I daresay, but to feel that frail structure swaying and springing beneath you, and to look at the swirl of dark-green water beneath, makes you wish you were well over whenever vou try it.

We did not attempt to get near the bridge, of course, but knowing that the river fell almost as rapidly as it rose, Ave camped and waited. It was only just gone mid-day, so wo. determined to put up the big show tent, that would hold e'very thing'—wagons, horses, men, women, and children. We camped on a small, open patch a- little way back from the road, made up a fire in our little coke stove, and another big one between two trees outside, had dinner, and were soon lounging about on the wagons, carpets, side tents, or anything else to keep us from the wet ground.

Just before sundown we heard the patter of a horse's feet on the hard road outside, and saw a man, covered up to the throat in a macintosh, ride rapidly iip to the river. He looked at it and didn't I ike it, so he rode up the bank as if looking for a safe place to cross. As he got opposite to us he saw Bill, one of our grooms, who was drawing water for the horses, and, accosting him, said, " I'm afraid the river's dangerous to cross, my man."

'• I'd advise you not to try it, master, onless you want to drownd yourself," said Bill.

" What am Ito do?" said he, '< it's too late to. go back to the Arahura tonight, and I can't stop out here in this pelting rain." " Why no, master, it wouldn't be pleasant, neither way," replied Bill, " but I dar' say if you was to put it to the guv'nor, he might find room for you and your 'oss in the.tent," ''Tent!" said the stranger, "what tent ?"

" Why, our tent," . said Bill, " our show tent, as we've rigged up for the night, there's lots of room for 'arf a dozen outsiders."

" Show tent?" said he, " 1 don't understand you; what do you mean by a show tent ? You don't mean that you've got a show here ?" " Well," said Bill, grinning, " that's what we calls it. Some people calls it a 'ippodrum, and some calls it a circus, but wc calls it a show. You'd better go and ask the guy'nor, an' he'll let ycr in as a dead 'cd."

" A circus," said the stranger, " oh, dear me, I don't think I could, being as I am, a clergyman, it would scarcely be proper, you know ; although," he added in a plaintive voice, "it is very wet out here."

t: Clergyman or not, wc won't eat yer," rejoined Bill, gruffly. "If you likes to shelter in the slum you can 'ave a shakedown for axin' for; if wc ain't good enough for you, why you can do without, and stop where you are," and Bill, filling his buckets, walked away. Archie Drummond, our patchy, was standing at the opening of the tent, at the time, so he asked Bill what was up,

. " Oil!" says Bill, " it's a cove stuck up by the river. I askod him to come into the tent, but he says he's a parson, and he does'nt think it 'ud be proper." Archie gave a grunt, and away he walks to the gorger, and asked him to invite the stranger in, li Go yourself and ask him," says tho boss sulkily, for he warn't over pleased at being kept back by the river. So the hemperor, that's what we used to call Archie, on account of the frills he

used to put on—he was a gentleman born, was Arche, a graduate of the Edinburgh College, and had been no end of a swell in his time, before ho took to the sawdust—sung .out to the stranger, who was sheltering under a big tree near, ' : You'd better come in here, sir, out of the rain, and bring your poor beast in too."

The parson pricked up his ears, for you see Archie was a (Scotchman, and so was he : however, he came up to the tent.

''"'l'm afraid," said he, ''that the elders of my church in Greymouth. would scarcely like the idea of my being seen inside a circus." " The elders of your church, must be a lively set of people if they'd prefer to see you out in this rain than taking shelter even in a circus tent. If you won't come in yourself, at least send your horse in, for he's shivering, and has no waterproof," said Archie. " Young gentleman, you are right. .1. must at least be merciful to my beast anil will accept your hospitality." i To be run hulal ill uiir /lev/).