A FLYING VISIT.

Patea Mail, 27 November 1880, Page 4

A FLYING VISIT.

(Bv a Rovixo Whiter.) Anybody going on a pilgrimage from Wanganui up the West Coast may forcibly realise the pleasures of nature, in spite of all the much-talkecl-of and largcly-paid-for improvements of civilisation of the past few years. Nature is extremely pleasing when looked at from a civilised point, but any unfortunate being who had once abandoned her to be obliged to make friends with her again on her own terms will find his experience in this Colony about as romantic a piece of business as staying in a Maori whare, or partaking of an Australian darkey’s entertainment of caterpillars and worms au naturel. The ride to Waitotara by rail was well enough with a thick skin and placid temper, and with the faculty of going to sleep at will; but taking to the road again one begins to commune with nature on more ecpial terms, though still the artificial adornments of the old witch arc not altogether cast oft’. Cobb’s coach with four good horses and a potential Jehu was waiting - to carry us on, and all made a rush to secure some sort of a seat. Knees and elbows and heads used as battering rams arc nature’s legitimate weapons in such a struggle, and according to the law of the survival of the fittest, I got a seat; though as to some details of the fierce fight it is better to be dumb. There were seventeen of us altogether packed in this black hole, including a sweet old lady at whom it was impossible to look without causing her face to ripple into smiles, with the observation “ I beg your pardon, I’m

rather ’ard of ‘earing,” under the impression you were addressing her; and a prize baby who was cooing with infinite enjoyment oyer the not by any means enticing refreshment of a suck at its nurse’s dirty finger. At last we jostled down, and accommodated our knees, and even in some cases wont so far as to change civilities ; and jogged along at a steady slow trot up hill, through a rough and broken country, not by any means so rich and capable of tillage as some I had seen nearer Wanganui. Here and there we crossed some little rushing river sparkling and flashing through a thickly-wooded gully, or winding round and about some gently sloping green meadows, or at intervals some fine young growing crops of grain. There seemed to be a greater inclination for grain growing amongst the fanners further on the road to Patea than I found around Wanganui, and the breed of cattle looked by no means inferior to those of the excellent Wanganui herds. So we bumped and jolted along, the gentlemen sometimes bound to hold on like grim death to avoid executing a summersault backwards, and at other turns finding themselves with many apologies in the opposite ladies’ laps. On we went through several rising young towns in which, by some mysterious means, several store and smart hotel-keepers manage to do a thriving business : and so on and on till we arrived at Patea.

This is an iron ago indeed, when we stuff our mattresses and chair cushions with iron as a softer material than feathers; when we make iron float as lightly as cork ; and swallow iron to strengthen oar bodies ; and out of the world’s many demands for iron the West Coast of the North Island ought to make some good account, for it has a bountiful gift of the finest iron in the world, but it has not discovered the way to work it up in earnest, and has only pottered about burning its fingers and losing money. The day will come though, in good time, and when it docs Patea will be a rising place, for its fine little river navigable for ships of some size up to the town will be a source of wealth and trade, and the iron-sand everywhere around some parts of the neighbourhood is available in millions of tons.

Patea town is a quiet bright little place, with an air of “ go” about it that speaks volumes for the future ; and the view up the main street, with Mount Egmont standing out as sharp and clear against the sky as if only a mile or two away, is most beautiful. The main street

has well been named Egmont, for the one grand feature of it will always be the gigantic purple and silver peak in the distance. In some day of future prosperity, Patea may be a beautiful little Pompeii or Herculaneum, a resort for tourists hunting up the worldrenowned beauties and the soft balmy climate of New Zealand ; I mean in those future days, perhaps not remote, when the sides of the lovely Mountain will supply the finest champagne wine in the world, and the unrivalled villas of the wealthy Patea merchants will dot the coast with scented nests of green and glowing colours. In the meantime, it must be confessed that the sea coast about Patea is rugged and commonplace, without even the charm of bold ugliness. The brown sandy coast crumbles and slips sheer down on to the uight-marish black sands, and washes and wastes away in dreary mud. There are some very nice properties around the town, that I am only sorry I had not sufficient time to visit; and the substantial well metalled roads are becoming everywhere bordered by a continuous line of trim gorse or white thorn hedges, and good grass or grain sown paddocks, that before many years pass over will extend from end to end of this island, as in the south. Captain Wray’s property on the eastern side will, when opened up, bo of great value. Mr Honeyfield has a nice estate of from 700 to 800 acres; Mr Derritt has about 700 acres, with a very pretty house surrounded by well-grown trees ? and Mr Coutts’s farm near the river is an enviable lot. Looking down from the steep bank o the winding bright river, there is a view up the lovely green valley of Patea for about five or six miles, reminding mo o one of Turner’s fairy-liko sketches from the south of France. Messrs Williamson’s extensive farm and sheltered homestead ; Mr Jardine’s property as seen from a hill overlooking Gakaramca ; and a beautiful winding hill road at Manutahi, near a steep green gully through which rushes a little shaded stream, are the properties I noticed most in my brief visit to the Patea district. I should much like to have lingered and made friends, but the relentless hand of my destiny had me as tenderly by the “ scruff of the neck ” as a peeler handling a friendless larrikin, and I was hurried ou without being permitted to gush any more, Cobb awaited me, and I was bound to hurry ou or feel the utmost terror of the potential Jehu’s wrath.