LETTERS FROM A TRAVELLING

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume II, Issue 189, 22 July 1874, Page 2

LETTERS FROM A TRAVELLING

CORRESPONDENT. No. 3. • a , That Napier has at last woke up from her long sleep, and is beginning to show sigils of progress, I have endeavored to explain in my previous letters ; and as the subject of the town and its doings is pretty well exhausted, we will take a drive into the country, to hear and see what is to be hoard and seen there. It was one of those beautiful Autumn mornings, which, in the clearness and brightness of the air, mark the the fading of the passing Summer into the coming Winter, with that exquisite loveliness, which, now and again, raises the sordid soul of man a little nearer to the angels at all events for the nonce—but the prosaic rattle of the coach wheels, and the extremely unangelic observations of the driver to his horses, soon Brings the poetic flight to an end; and a place on the box being secured we begin our travels towards the distant hills. I cannot, however, say that a Cobb’s coach is altogether an agreeable means of conveyance, for the jolting in rough places, and the tremendous rattling of the whole machine render conservation rather a jerkey and difficult matter, to say nothing of the chances of being pitched off head first. But after the first six or seven miles, when the Ngaruroro river is crossed, we come to a fine road in good condition, and which continues so for the next thirty-five miles. If I was to say that the changes which have taken place within the last five years, are as great and striking in the country as in the town, I should certainly not be adhering to the truth. The habitations of man, and the work of his hands, are not so thickly represented along this road as one might very naturally expect, considering the extreme richness and fertility of the lands, and the length of time during which Hawke’s Bay has been settled. There is not a hamlet or village along that long stretch of country, from Napier to Havelock, and from Havelock to Waipawa; and both these last places are but a scattered and very thinly spread congregation of small houses —hardly to be called a village. The whole length and breadth of the land, with the exception of here and there a Maori wheat field, presents to the eye the same monotonous repetition of sheep, sheep, sheep! Nothing but sheep ! Even the few specimens of the inhabitants whom I met occasionally, spoke and smelt of nothing but sheep, and garnished their conversation, now and then, with a slight seasoning of cattle, with a small dash of horse. Hawke’s Bay may, without fear of contradiction assert that she is not an agricultural district. There is no sign of it. But nevertheless nothing will ever induce me to give in it the doctrine that by sheep alone, men can live, where the land, is fit for the plough. That the long-wool sheep of Hawke’s Bay are rapidly arriving at great perfection requires but a glance at some of the flocks, at once to determine. But I have heard it asserted by thoroughly trustworthy and practical men, that from some cause not yet explained, after a certain point of excellence in the sheep has been attained they fall off, and do not progress any further towards that perfection which breeders fondly hope to reach. This is a serious piece of truth. But I am not prepared to admit that the explanation of that circumstance is far >to seek. I have come to the conclusion that the constant and unremitted grazing of the rich alluvial flats, for so many years has so hardened the crust and so saturated the grass with the droppings of animals, that it has become foul in the extreme, and that scours, and staggers, and presently other, and still more alarming diseases, will make their appearance, and prove frightfully fatal to qni. .stock. The two first evils are already alarmingly prevalent. Some flock owners seek a remedy for these ills in moving their flocks of longwools to hilly and dry country. This I contend may prove a temporary preventive against scours and staggers, but will have the effect, if persisted in, in entirely altering the character both in wool and carcase of their flocks. Hill land is hard travelling for heavy sheep, and the pasture is rarely, if ever, of sufficient quantity. But that practical and clever men whose whole life has been passed in the management of sheep, place great reliance upon the efficacy of this hill remedy, there can be no doubt, from the fact of their giving such very high prices for very second rate hill land. Still I am not at all satisfied with it. No; the plough must be brought into action, and the foubland turned down and a crop of whatever is likely to pay best be raised on the ground for two or three years; after which return to a fresh sowing of grass. Nothing is .easier than this plan. One-fifth of the land say, is turned down and cropped each year, and evßKjfcfifth year you come back to fresh paraire, pure, sweet, and luxuriant. I will not admit that rye grass is the cause ’of the. sickness and falling off in sheep. - Until the paddocks became-,foul by years of constant grazing, rye grass and ('lover were found fine, healthy, fattening, feed for any sort of animals. Then why hot now by a return to a cleaner method of grazing ?

But at any rate the plough will soon have to be brought into action, not alone on account of the sheep, but on account of the shepherd. Here, however, we are met by the great difficulty of the labor question. Which is pot likely to be satisfactorily solved under the present I . migration scheme. And I fear that the high price that lands in Hawke’s Bay, of any real agricultural value are now fetching, will be quite too much to meet the views of that class of farmers from the old country whose means are moderate, and whose hope is that they and their children’s children my find a home in this country, free from the fear of landlords and tax-payers. Vain hope! New Zealand is a very hot-bed of landlords and tax-payers, and of a system of land owning and tax-paying which would make the hair of the veriest old Tory in all England stand on end. But let us hope for the best, even when that hope is poor in the extreme. Let no man say that he delights in paying rent and taxes, —that man is not to be trusted and I would not have him on any land of mine at any price whatever, for he would never pay a shilling. A cry is being raised in Napier against the rye grass of Poverty Bay as the cause of all the diseases the sheep is heir too. As well say at once that to our rye grass may be traced the Native Land Act, 1865 by which the Hawke’s Bay plains fell into the hands of the Twelve, and in consequence of the cheapness of that land those people will not use the plough, or the harrow, or, in fact, grow anything, but rye grass; and their lands become filthy and foul beyond measure. And, moreover, rye grass is becoming a pretty heavy annual crop in those districts. People do talk a great deal of it, and are believed, I hope this time they will believe this plain truth, that bad farming, and not Poverty Bay rye grass, is at the bottom of their difficulty. Hawke’s Bay cattle are, upon the whole, very fine, the herds of Messrs. Hunter of Porangahau, and the Messrs. Hardy of Pakowhai are superb; great care has been taken of them no doubt. Of horses little can be said. I saw nothing under that head of any value either for the collar or saddle. But lam given to understand that Mr. M’Lean of the Tuki Tuki has a splendid young thorougbred “Fisherman,” to stand this season. The finest horse seen for many years, so the judges tell me; and imported from New South Wales.

Upon the whole then the result of my observations in Hawke’s Bay, amounts to this, that her beauties remain, at present very imperfectly developed, and the great natural resources of that fine district are as little understood and valued now, as they ever have been. The land of the squatter, and land jobber, lies heavy on the land ; and there is not yet a sufficiently strong party to resist, or in any way to counteract that blighting influence. The time however is not far distant when some change for the better may take place in men’s minds as to the regulation of the public estate. But Hawke’s Bay is, unhappily, beyond cure. Her Tallies will never laugh with corn; at least not yet a while, and where the thistle now is, it will be some time before you see anything else. Small townships,—so called, by courtesy, —- spring up few and far between, flourish up to the development of a few drinking houses, a store, a very little school and a still more insignificant church, in neither of which last buildings is much taught or to be learnt notwithstanding the glorious intention of their founders. Having got thus far on the road of fame, these little places flicker up to a state of insane drunkenness, &c„ and then flicker down into an almost equally insane reaction; and the difference between good and evil becomes so hopelessly confused in men’s minds, that the last state of those towns is worse than the first. There is little more to be said under the heading of the Country District. There is yet so much to be done and so many long years are wanted to do it in, so as to render the inland country of Hawke’s Bay interesting to the stranger; that I think we may dismiss the contemplation and discussion of this part of our subject as pretty, well exhausted. We will take a look at the Public works next lime.