REMINISCENSES OF TRAVEL.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume II, Issue 183, 1 July 1874, Page 2

REMINISCENSES OF TRAVEL.

Being an account of a journey overland from Poverty Bay to Te Wairoa, byJJjIS Rev. J. B. Simpson. Continued from our last. 1 A traveller without observa^taj^ia ufiSjFpiS out wings.—Saadi* After an we emerge d into an open space where the logs were as Xhk'k Afl . heretofore. The wa d& Wccomplished, sijWMjWl 7 picked their vvuy True it was I offended, but gnarled roots tersected the forest path. f°h a o e 1° the left, so bright riant, that clustered Over the Ighpre, the calm ocean was still visible. ; ISfvery sound was hushed, save the murmur of. the sea in the distance, and the clear, grateful note of the tui. Evening was approaching ; and the hour added to the charm of the scene. We were at last on the low lands, and had to pass over some undulating land ere we came to the beach. It was a fair spot with pretty woodlands, and grassy knolls, and dells, where the fairies find a tribe of elves would love to haunt, were they imported to New Zealand. At present a few pigs resort to its grounds, and we have seen a wild grimalkin with tail erect, and startled gaze, crossing the path. The owl has his lonely perch in the dark treetops hardby. We could not help noticing a small lake most romantic in afepitet, Verdant slopes and fair clustering foliage of tupaki, koromiko, and a variety of ornamental shrubs flourished n6ar. It lay in a quiet recess so placid, and so protectedly environed by its high bank. A crop of raupo surrounded the waters; and an islet sustained a growth of reeds, and a few cabbage trees. It is a remarkable fact that these trees were injured by fire, surrounded as they wore with water, when every other shrub around remained intact ; so we see that apparently safe positions are not free from danger. What lambent flame was wafted to the tree tops ?■ Huge rocks peeped from the sward ; and the swamps displayed bright and pleasant verdancy. The waterhen loves to wander there. To one who has just travelled “ up hill and down dale,” to arrive at a hard beach over which a considerable portion of the journey is to be performed is a very agreeable circumstance ; and it was with fresh ardour that we re-pursued our way. The sea had changed its aspect; and instead of the calm surface, we beheld the mighty roll of the angry waters. Tier after tier of huge waves followed in succession, and burst upon the shore with an overwhelming effort. Whatever is great manifests, its power; and this element in its magnitude, its varying aspect of the serene, or of the furious when attacked by the tempest, reminds man that it is a formation of the Great Creator. George Herbert says “ He that will learn to pray, let him go to the sea,” and we think that thereun presence of the wide majesty of Ocean, though not within the precincts of the stately temple, unreflecting must be the mind of the beholder, and cold his heart, if his thoughts be not elevated, and he untouched with feelings of admiration and praise, for he contemplates one of the greatest, visible reflections of the Divinity. Thou art, O God I the life and light, Of all this wondrous world we see ; Its glow by day, its smile by night, Are but reflections caught from Thee. The poet of the Emerald Isle again writes, in accordance with the conviction; of Herbert— - My Choir shall be the moonlight waves, When murmuring homeward to their caves Or when the stillness of the sea, E’en more than music breathes of Thee !?, It is probable that King Canute, at the seaside, learned to pray, when contemplating his limited powers over this element. A smart gallop brought us to the Mahia. Though the place seems to be quiM enough at times ; it has a history (of stirring scenes; of thrilling incident; of the combat ; and the assembly of tribes) which is fast disappearing into oblivion, when the actors have been removed from ' existence. Not a vestige of the old pah remains ; and the mind pf the-modern spectator is filled with wonder, contemplating amid the silence, and absence of

. vitality,, these neglected lands, when an old resident tells him of the many who once inhabited this valley. The manuka and an occasional tuft of toitoi flourishes upon the site of the former kaiangas. A dark beadland loomed above——darkness had set in the dreary moor was quickly traversed, and the sea again confronted us*. . We saw a few lights cheerfully guiding us ; and directly pursuing our course thither, we arrive at the full glare of the aforesaid beacons ; and our host had a supper ready, for a prince.” The view of Mahia gives one the idea of a

bluff, with all the force of the word. It is exposed to the full sweep of the Ocean. We believe it-is the re sort of the larger specimen of the “ finny tribe,” including whales. It would afford a favorite residence for a seafaring individual, retired through incapacity, from that profession. During our stay we had the opportunity of making the acquaintance of a local celebrity known, or rejoicing under, the sobriquet of “ Happy Jack I” This title gives one an insight into his temperament. He is a fine, hale, old fellow, with a complexion as blooming as a rose ; and he is as cheerful as Mark Tapley, though he must have encountered many vicissitudes in his time. But contentment is his friend. He informed us that he happened to land on these savage shores in 1838; that he was immediately claimed as the pakeha of a chief; and that he conformed as much to Maori life as circumstances necessitated. Notwithstanding his unprotected position, he frequently asserted the superiority of his race, and in several adventures with very imperfect weapons, he put to flight many an aboriginal aggressor. During his remarks, —kindly sentiments—the exhibition of his genuine good nature evinced itself. “ Every one who knows him likes ‘ Happy Jack,” observed the host. “ Well, it is better to be blessed than cursed,” nobly answered the good .old fellow, while a happy expression mantled on his features. Since his arrival he never wandered from the spot. He cultivates a garden where he selected his home. It commands a view of the Ocean ; and Jack, gazing on the deep, very thoughtfully came to the conclusion that approaching or passing vessels, “ in gloomy tempests and a night of clouds,” beacon ; so iu’C spirit of Ju; lights for the safe" guidance of dtfiThe GovernifiEtttlaltfnllbipdrAe Jii*! pretts. nt small salaty, not only t>o» ! ot. pwfe.'tSSttJHtetiei < Thapka kind landremf 'of unreJ roitHiar attentions, next morning we J renewed our journey along a very t haM Beach of four miles’ length. We T oune to the first spur of the ranges. Any Bsfibsequent traveller will recognise the place when he sees a whale’s vertebra, of unusual proportions, bleaching in a hollow of the hillock; and, if intending to visit Wairoa, he goes in any other direction than into a defile, which, after a few minutes canter, leads to the beach again, he looses his way; and time, with a great deal of patience, will tell where his wanderings will terminate. An ornamental ntjaio (?) clump clusters in this defile —then we pass the nodding plumes, waving gleefully, as we hasten by. How graceful this plant is! Observe the Maori constructor of whares, seeking these grass reeds as assiduously as the bird seeks the straw wherewith to line her nest. Yes, the Maori builder will ornament the interior of his simple dwelling with a careful adjustment of thece reeds. They are scrym and paper to him. When you are getting down to the level of tne beach, it is most probable that your companions —having safely got over it—will turn to watch your descent. The Government should take steps to form a road there. You have sustained no injury from that slippery decline. Direct your gaze upwards, and take a look at that karaka bush, literally clothing the bare cliff. How trim it appears I One would think from the neat aspect of the foliage that some deranged arborist passed his shears over them once a week. Perhaps it may be the cutting wind. An occasional break in the thick foliage, resembles the mouth of a cave, and dark shades ever linger within. A brigand would have selected that retreat; or, perhaps, it might be the grateful home of goats. A periodical visit is paid to this declivity, when karaka berries are in season. The cookery of the kernels—delicacies to the natives —is elaborate and laborious. The kernels are considered to be poisonous in their crude state, but after being boiled during the space of two days, and a corresponding number of nights, they undergo a change for the benefit of mortals during the process, and form a dish to gratify the taste of any maori magnate. Sleighs are employed to convey the fruit for miles along the shore. A long beach has to be pased over, when we arrive at the Nuhaka river. Having no visible outlet, we supposed that it was a lake; but this river only periodically discharges itself into the sea. The action of the waves re-forms the barrier, when the flow of the stream has subsided. By continuing this road, the traveller arrives at the prosperous, native village of Nuhaka. There are the usual Cultivations along the bank of the river, which takes a serpentine course here to favor native agriculturists with fertile nooks; and we saw those personages busily engaged with the crops. They were the most industrious natives we have witnessed at work; and certainly the luxuriant appearance of their cultivations testify the care of the tillers. Any hungry native would delight to contemplate this scene, or he would become impatient until the operations of the kapa Maori were satisfactorily completed; and its contents appropriated. A verdant plantation of tara greets the sight; but we were advised not to discuss the root of this vegetable in its raw state, lest we should uncomfortably be made acquainted with its pungent nature. Further on, our road lay by a lagoon. Myriads of ducks and wild fowl, not too hasty in their departure, occupied the shore. This is a fine sheet of water extending for miles to the hills—the sombre hills. There is a contrast in the aspect of the waters at each side. To the left the angry Ocean bursts upon the shore, as if to vent its rage on the tranquil waters to the right. , Thus it is in the world, that men of comimon nature differ in temperament; and that in the various scenes of life, the turbulent are placed in proximity to the “meek, and humble of heart.” In the •calm retreat of the lagoon, the covey find a graceful home, and the gull and snipe love to dip in it, and the bittern claims an extent of reeds and raupo on its margin. We cracked our whips at derisive swamp hens whose bearing savored more of piquancy than of gracefulness.

To be Continued.