THE PERFECT IMMIGRANT

Hokitika Guardian, 10 January 1929, Page 2

THE PERFECT IMMIGRANT

DELIGHTFUL--ROOK ON NEW

ZEALAND LIFE

Hundreds and oven thornsands of cultivated men and womcif from tin Old Connlry (England. Ireland, (Scotland ami Wales) have set lied on New Zealand farniSj adapted themselves to the strangeness of the life and smoothed their path with good humour, charity, and a love for beauty. Few have written about their experiences. This is partly because these qualities u! heart, and head by no means always go with the capacity or even the desire to write. We know of one ease where a settler of unusual g.ifls and opportunities produced a singularly disappointing book. Besides, the local market lias not been hig enough to encourage much literary effort of this kind. All the warmer welcome, then, for “Pioneering in Poverty Bay,” which Mr Phillip T. ivenwav has written ami John Murray has published. It is a book of rare interest and delight. A young Englishman who hated the hideousness of English towns and the ideals of business and dreamt of a fleer life, Air Kenway came to New* Zealand in the ’eighties, and, with brothers, took up land in the wilds of Poverty Bay. From the beginning he loved the life and be describes simply, with feeling and with humour, how they started with a tout in the bush and made a home and the sheep station surrounding it, It is a singularly sincere book, it bubbles with fun, and every now and then there is a page of beauty. It was wild country, and Air Kenway had many an adventure on horseback before be brought the first petrol driven motor ear to the district, which led him into a new series of experiences. He tells us bow in order to get bis car out through mud on to the metalled road, lie liitched a pair of ponies to it and set off. When he started the engine the ponies bolted, and be bad the most exciting ride of Ins life. He tells us. too. bow. while he drove a charming elderly lady the ear stopped and refused to re-start As lie cranked and cranked at the handle a gentle voice said: “Isn’t the butter come yet.?”

Much interesting information about working back-country runs is mingled with observations about animals, birds and trees. The passages on burning off are fascinating. Now and again he becomes lyrical about the beauties ol the coiintrysitle and the joys of the life There are many delightful stories about neighbours, and a chapter on dogs that will make every dog-lover who reads the book wish to .write and thank him. The chapter on cooks will recall the immortal remark of “Saki” —“she was a good cool; as cooks go. andj as cooks go, she went.” In New Zealand, where the material for good food is abundant, where there is excellent moat and butter, and a good climate and solid vegetables, there is, also, hardly a soul who can cook. Waking at seven in the morning in the country, in a wooden house where everything is audible, you will be aware of a loud sizzling. It is a great panful of excellent mutton chops frying in plenty of fat. In half an hour the noise ceases, and you know that those chops will have been put in the oven to harden, while the billy is boiled. At eight you breakfast off something that looks and tastes like rather greasy boot soles. Cooking chops is easier that way, and as few English know good victuals from bad, I suppose it does not matter much ;. but if a French house-wife offered such food to her men, I shudder to think wfliat would \huppen.

You must not think however, that Mr Kenway is what, is called a “knocker.” On the contrary, a hook fairer in its judgments on New Zealand we have not read. It overflows with a keen and discriminating zest of life, but is never “superior.” The photographic illustrations are excellent. We wish we had room to quote more, hut a line or two about “cadets” must suffice. There was one young man of whom a fond aunt at Home wrote: “Oh, how nice it will he, how very nice for the dear hoy to sit on the hills all day and watch the sheep.” We know that aunt; there are even some of her kind in New Zealand, that “dear boy’s” first job was plucking wool off long dead and very far gone ewes, and sent Home a snapshot of himself in the thick of tliis bloody work, and female relatives protested strongly. However he was quite happy. In another case a cadet was made to undertake not to refuse to dean out the pigsties. There were no pigsties, hut the clause was inserted for a very good purpose. We can strongly recommend this delightful book by a shrewd and kindly observer. It has been compared with the late Mr Justice Alpers’ “Cheerful Yesterdays,” in that both reveal New Zealand as a land of opportunity—one indoors and the other out of doors. Both are notable interpretations of this country. “Pioneering in Poverty Bay” should be part of every English emigrant’s equipment.