REVIEW.

Hawke's Bay Times, Issue 1631, 24 November 1874, Page 437

REVIEW.

Otago Guardian. The Narrative of Edward Crewe ; or Life in New Zealand. By W. M. B. London : Sampson, Low, and Co.

This is one of the most pleasantly written books that it has been our fortune to meet with for a very long time. In the first chapterthe author records a wish to impress upon his readers " the perfect veracity of the narration." We can only say, that if it be not all true, it is so well told that it deserves to be true. Of a certainty, much bears the stamp of genuine experiences in the Northern province, and a little occasional embellishment, if such has indeed been resorted to, may well be pardoned. The story of the juvenile sea-serpent which would insist on coming into the boat, does require a moderate share of credulity to enable one to swallow it, but it is related with such circumstantiality, that remembering Stokes's description of veritable seasnakes (Hydrus Stokesii) in the official narrative of The Voyage of the Beagle, we do so with a slight reservation of fashionable scepticism. And the history of the discovery of the rich quartz reef, yielding with rudest appliances 50oz. to the ton, and resulting in the fortunate finder and his sole confidante obtaining 14,3490 z. Bdwt. 13gr. of gold—(mark the exactness of the pennyweights and grains) makes one long to rediscover the appropriately named "Golden Falls." The locality is fairly described, though its name is withheld. There is the " miniature waterfall," with a deep pool below, and immediately below the narrowing creek, presenting " somewhat the appearance of an American canon, the cliffs rising precipitous on either side, roofed over with a green canopy of forest." And we are told that " under the earth at Golden Falls lie lumps of gold as big as—as chalk :" a comparison so delightfully indefinite that one feels as though, after all, the writer was poking fun. Nevertheless, it is all'told with an air of most profound gravity—the accidental discovery—the secret testing of the yellow metal—the precautions resorted to for the preservation of the golden secret—the cautious purchase and transportation to the reef of materials for the construction of a rude crushing machine : nailing up the various portions in two boxes, one marked, " Flat Fig Tobacco " and the other " Best Sydney Soap" ;—and the book terminates with the tantalising statement that " Gold will be re-discovered there—at Golden Falls—in masses that will utterly upset the value of coined money." After .this, it is satisfactory to know that the bearings of the place and full directions have been fairly written out. And the author should be secure of a warm welcome at the firesides of his nephews, nieces, and other possible heirs, seeing that he publicly affirms, " The manuscript is enclosed in a sealed packet, and bequeathed, in my will, to my next of kin." We have only space for a few extracts. Here is a sketch, the truthfulness of which will be recognized at once, for who has not met with one or more members of the class of whom the Loverocks are types ? Mr and Mrs Loverock, with their two daughters and three sons, belonged to that much-to-be-pitied class known as decayed gentlefolk. They were possessed of little money, and could do nothing. Mrs Loverock would vent herself in a fit of crying over the labor and trouble of washing her husband's shirts; nor was she in her element when in the kitchen, every substance she attempted to cook having, when dished up under her auspices, the same taste. Her bread, poor woman, was only fit to be eaten by men possessing an appetite and digestion equal to those whose daily toil is in a brickyard. Mr Loverock was equally wanting, having no notion of chopping a bit of firewood; nor could he use a spade or drive a nail. Not one of the family could milk a cow. Yet these very good but useless people had left England to farm in the New Zealand bush !

Another type of emigrant was the young gentleman who brought out with him " quite a library of big-volumed encyclopedias, a kind of property for which," says Mr Crewe, " I have great respect. But an emigrant was hardly likely to cull, say £25 worth of information from works of reference; and the above guess amount at the cost price would have proved a more handy property if appearing on the right page of his banking-book." We must not omit Mr Crewe's panegyric on tea:—■

A good thing is tea; good in the bush; on board ship, in a tent, or camping without a tent, It is good for the strong and for the

weak ; good when you are well, or when you are ill. It is good when young, or when you get old. Sarages like it, so do men who are not savages. Fine tea is good out of a fine China cup, seated at a fine table in a fine house, poured out by a fine lady, and handed rounded by a fine gentleman's gentleman. There is no end to whal may be said of the good of tea.

Every old bushman, miner, and _ upcountry settler will concur in this eulogium. Tea is one of the greatest comforts of existence in the bush.

The various phases of colonial life in the early days of Auckland are depicted with the pen of an artist. The stories of pighunting, boating, timber-felling, and the accounts of bush life and Maori life are all told in an easy, flowing, unaffected style, which leads the reader on from page to page, and from chapter to chapter, till he finishes the entire volume, and reluctantly lays it down with a strong desire for more of it. " W.M.8." half promises that we shall hear of other lands where Mr Crewe made a home. We hope to see the promise fulfilled at an early date. It is but seldom one meets with such a thoroughly readable book.