OUR TRIP TO THE AWATERE.

Marlborough Express, Volume IV, Issue 152, 9 January 1869, Page 4

OUR TRIP TO THE AWATERE.

“ God made the country, and Man made the town.” Cowper

The weather turning fine at the end of a recent week, we conceived the idea of availing ourselves, in company with a mutual friend, of an invitation to visit one of the domains of a well-to-do flpckowner, and make observations generally in the valley of the Awatere. The morning of our start was beautiful, the earth being bathed in sunshine, and fanned by the gentlest of zephyrs. Away we went through that rising locality Maxwell-road, past the Cathochapel, the spire of which just approaching completion, we could not help looking upon as an ornament to the town, and creditable both to the zeal of its Minister, and the influential body of worshippers that belong to this shrine. Gliding by Mr, Masters’ commodious and well-built hostelry, by the Cemetery, that lonely “ God’/ Acre,” where so many of our little ones sleep ; through the entrance to the Veinon Run, we soon found ourselves in the Tayleur, and at a spot beyond the mouth

of the Maxwell Pass we saw evidences of the strength and volume of the great flood of February, 1868, in the washing away of the road, and the leaving of loose shingle in its place. At the end of the valley, a new crossing is formed to the left, making a shorter cut into the narrow Pass, through the ups and downs of which we proceeded at a steady pace till we reached the foot of the Saddle. There are two ways of getting up this steep acclivity on horseback : one by the old track on the right side of the gully, and the other by a dray road on the left side, formed at some cost by the wisdom of the first Government of this Province. Any horseman may ascend the old track on the right without alighting, the rise for most of the distance is very straight and of comparatively slight ascent. There is a pinch at the top, but it could easily be improved for the purposes of a road. The Government road, being cut out of the

hill-side, is mostdisagreably hot in summer weather, has turnings and windings which increase the danger to heavy loads going up or down, and the ascent is steep throughout. The reader will perhaps pardon our noticing this matter so particularly when we tell him that drays have gone over the side, and one narrowly escaped that fate only the other week. Hawkers’ carts have dragged backwards, throwing their miscellaneous contents down the hill, and last, though not least, it is on record that

the brewer’s horses have plunged over, the casks bounding down the gully, like balls, until they burst, and Oh, viiserabile dictu! pouringout “Dodson’sßest,” which streamed onwards till it mingled profitlessly with the cool brook below ! When will the people elect Superintendents that will move about the country, and leave the marks of their feet in the admirable works which follow their visits 1 If some more serious accident does not occur on the Tayleur Saddle, than such as we have enumerated, the paternal Government which we have the honor of possessing, may thank their fortunate stars ! But to proceed; from the top of the Saddle a striking view is got of mountains s'oping downwards on each side in the foreground, and between them a peep at the Awatere Plains, with the peculiar blue-clay precipices overhanging the South bank of the river, and the whole scene melting away into distant mountains canopied by the clear sky, or varying clouds. Descending and emerging into the open, we turn to the right, passing a small lagoon, a gem of bright blue in the midst of the fair green, grassy flats. This is a favored spot, from which a splendid view is had on all sides. From sea-ward on the left hand, to the wild mountains on the right, a charming panorama is spread out, which may not easily be forgotten. But we had not much time for admiring the beauties of nature, as we were afraid we should be too late for that important institution, an Englishman’s dinner, if we did not speed on ; so, turning our horses’ heads up the valley, after a canter of three or four miles, we were passing opposite the original location—as an American would say—of the founder of a family, whose members occupy a great deal of the country from a line north of the Awatere river to another south of the Clarence river. If the master of any station should not be one of the shoots of this enterprising and energetic Scotch family, it will probably be found that his wife is one of the hospitable and kindly daughters of it, as the writer, from pleasant memories of the past, can well recall. This paternal home of the M’Bae family is snugly ensconsed in the valley, and is so sheltered by trees, that the house is but barely perceptible from the road. As we did not call here till on our return, we will proceed to describe our farther progress, how we ascended several terraces, and hastened on as quickly as we could, lest there should be 1 cauld kail ’ for us when we reached our journey’s end. By and bye the bright mansion hove in sight up against the hills before us, and on getting nearer, we crossed a purling brook, in which dark colored native trout may be caught, reminding us how in youthful days we used, in the mid-summertimes, to catch spotted beauties of a more silvery scalage, in a far-off land, where the red deer bound over the purple-flowered hills, and the salmon, those princes of fish, glide in the deepest parts of the mountain streams. Reaching the stables, we left our horses, and proceeded to the terrace and stately porch of this the finest mansion in the province, and not too soon, for we found our host and his family in the middle of dinner. We were heartily welcomed ; but we must drop our indulgent readers till next week, when we hope to introduce him more fully to the scene, and to other scenes on our way back to “ Beautiful Blenheim, city of streams.” (To be continued.)

[The following was published in an Extra issued on Saturday last. ]