“FITZ” IN THE COUNTRY.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume IX, Issue 1004, 26 November 1881, Page 3

“FITZ” IN THE COUNTRY.

TO THE EDITOR. Sir,—I have just come back to Gisborne from the country, where I have been the last 12 months ; but will feel extremely obliged if you will insert in your paper these few lines. I find things are pretty much the same in town as when I left. Business is slack, and there does not appear to be much doing for the workingman. The same thirsty souls are to be seen prowling about the streets early of a morning, sighing for a “pint.” I miss the faces of some of the old heavy drinkers—good riddance say I. It would appear that I have lots of friends just now. Perhaps they think I have a cheque. Well, I have, and I mean to nurse it. As soon as I came in, every one was very kind, saying, “How are you old man? When did you come down?” and all other sorts of soft nonsense. One man said to me, “You’re looking well,” which was a lie, because I have the rheumatics in my off knee. I guessed what these topers were after, so I asked them to have drinks all round, and they said they did’nt mind just a taste.” I noticed most took pints, the rest took something “short.” Then they got more fond of me, and did’nt mind taking just another glass, as we did’nt meet every day! Of course I had to pay; but no more “shouting” for me; I’ll see them all dry enough first. Gisbornites seem to love and talk scandal the same as ever. This is a mistake in such a small place. They should act upon the great Napoleon’s advice, which was to “wash your dirty linen at home.” I do. The engineers in Poverty Bay might be worse, but I think they are great duffers. If you don’t believe me, just you drive up to the Motu township,

and judge for yourself—such a township, and such roads! Bridges and drains are wanted on the line, not poking about the middle of the road. What is your engineer doing with Gladstone Road? That stuff which he is putting down, which he calls metal. I call “rubbidge.” Talking about bridges, I see you have got a new bridge in Peel Street, but the public don’t seem to make much use of it. I was told a lawyer was the cause of this construction; I replied, “I thought he was the cause of its obstruction!" Not so bad for a County Cork man. I believe there are some other lawyers likely to come before the public soon. I hope so; they want weeding out.

Politics is all the go up country, and there is plenty of drinking and fighting, over it. Mac is my man. lie is not much to look at on the boards, and he does not speak much to the point; but he is good at promises. My idea is that all the candidates only want to get into Parliament, and when they get there they will forget us. I know Mac will; yet I have a fancy to vote for him, then I won’t be disappointed if he turns out trumps. I say, what we want is land for the people, and people for the land; but none of your lawyers’ fandangos, and private land companies. Most of my time up country has been taken up with gardening on the banks of the Waikohu stream. The soil gets hard in the sun, never mind which way you knock it up. Plenty of manure and sand is the thing to push on the vegetables. Last week we had a few lettuces and radishes, and by Christmas new peas and potatoes will be in. Think of that for early crops. Cabbages, cauliflowers, onions, parsnips, and carrots look promising, and will be soon fit to eat. I hear you have had new potatoes some time in Gisborne. I was looking at some to-day, but I don’t call them potatoes. They are no bigger than marbles in size, and they are as weak and watery as sore eyes.

I never like to see anything in the garden coming on before the 10th November, because once at the Wairoa we had a frost that day which played the gooseberry with the potatoes and other vegetables. The bolborus weed has been a great nuisance to me. It is a runner with more roots than the devil fish has tails; and has a pretty pink or blue flower (sometimes it’s white.) The only way to get rid of it is to trench it down four spits deep in early spring, jnst before the frosts. Those that say that bleeding the plant by constant cutting under the surface during the summer, will kill it, don’t know what they talk about, as the bolborus comes up as strong as supplejacks afterwards. You will be sorry to know that the Tui and Korimako (bell bird) are rapidly dying out, and pigeons are getting scarce. Rats and cats is at the bottom of this. One eats the eggs, and the other gobbles the young birds. I hear that somebody has been importing snails. Mark my words, they will become like the Scotch thistles—a regular nuisance. To kill them, put lime about their holes, or mix sulphur and treacle for them to eat.

I am glad to report that I have succeeded in propagating a winter broad bean, which I have named “Fitz’s Winter Magnum Bonum.” The pods, which are nearly a foot long, contain from 10 to 13 beans. They may be pulled in September. I am going to be in the hospital for my knee for a short time before the election. l am a County Cork man, and an old soldier, and couldn’t think of missing the elections.—l am &c., Fitz.