From Gisborne to Melbourne.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume X, Issue 1071, 9 May 1882, Page 2

From Gisborne to Melbourne.

[Written for the Poverty Bay Standard.] No. VI. My advent to Christchurch, the modern city of the modern plains of a modern colony, was attended by some pleasurable feelings. I had long heard of this interesting place, of its thorough go-ahead English, fox-hunting, church-going (if not church-loving) people, and of their enterprise which has placed Canterbury in the van of progress. But I cannot say that those feelings were so thoroughly realised in my visit to their city, as in other places to which 1 have been. Still I shall have a good deal to write about Christchurch, for, unrealistic though the result of my expectations is, there is, nevertheless, much to wonder at and admire.

The first (1 may say the only) thing that strikes tl e eye after emerging from the tunnel through which the railway rune from Lyttelton to the city, is the comparative poverty and unsettled state of the hind. With the tunnel mountain we part company with hills of any size, the land hence, onward, being perfectly Hat. The distance is about seven miles, and the aridity of the soil is counter-balanced by an excellent landscape. Here and there are to be seen handsome, pretentious-looking residences, and neat, cosy cottages of the less well-to-do, but thrifty class. Fruit depended from over-laden boughs in rich abundance ; paddocks and orchards and cornfields generally, had a gay and seasonable appearance, and the neatest, and enduring nature of the live fences, which were the rule rather than the exception, gave evidence of the taste and energy of their owners. I think there is nothing so charming as the blue-tinted, and golden-fringed hills, reflected by the morning and evening sun of your dear, though now far-off New Zealand. But I forgot I must not be sentimental. It is the business of life that pays and interests most—not in sentimentalism.

Like must other older and bigger cities Christchurch presents nothing very striking to the visitor. Situated us it is on a low-lying plain, there is little to be seen except the gloom of smoke t hat hangs, in cunopial form, over it towards the evening of a fine, calm day. True, a spire, taller than the rest, shimmers in the setting sun, and which, on enquiry I found to belong to the edifice which does cathedral duty for the ecclesiastical pomps and vanities of the vanities of the religious world. I may be permitted to remark here —a fact I was not then acquainted with —that the railway station is one of the most complete, comfortable, and commodious in New Zealand, and from what I have seen, I may say in the Colonies. We are apt to form our opinions of places, primarily, from the treatment we experience at the hands of our friends and strangers ; and I must say that both at Christchurch and Dunedin we were met by an amount of care-taking civility, both on the part of the officials, and the hotelkeepers—-which goes a long way to smooth t e path of the future, if I remember rightly—for 1 did not take a note of it at the time—the building is of stone, and not without some pretension to architectural display. The platform is wide, and designed for the comfort of passengers. The retiring, waiting, and refreshment rooms for both ladies and gentlemen, are comfortably arranged, and provided with conveniences calculated to secure the comfort of travellers. At Dunedin, our party had to go and look for lodgings, and we found there the true value of civil and obliging conduct. Our luggage was taken to a “ parcels office.” We paid a shilling for the obligation of having it entered, as per description ; received a ticket, which securely guaranteed it from loss —excepting, perhaps, fire —until we sent for it, which we did in the course of an hour or two. I wish anything we could write would have the effect of promoting a universal politeness amongst men—more especially Government officials, and those paid to serve the public. I am not now alluding ton civility one sometimes sees, bordering on servility, when the conduct and demeanor of persons are put on for a special occasion, as they change their garb, but to the manner, and mode of speech, that come from an inannate deference to others, and an educated quality of the mind—when civility of speech is accompanied by politeness of mannerism, more for the sake of a pleasing companionship, than from a sense of duty which pays well and costs little. But from whatever cause real politeness springs, it is pleasant to see, and it never fails to bring its own reward to its possessor. I saw a remarkable incidence in support of what I say, while at Dunedin. Two gentlemen and two ladies were enquiring, of an apparently eccentric son of Scotia’s Isle, a vendor of matches and periodicals, their way to a house they desired to find, when this “ nature’s gentleman,” fearing that his broad dialect, and difficulty of making himself understood, would not suffice, cut the matter short by walking some distance to the corner of the street, and put the enquirers straight upon their way. 1 heard one of the gentlemen murmur, as the guide returned to his post, “ Now, that’s what I call a civil man.” “ Indeed,” replied the elder of the two, “ I think he’s a polite man as well, and egad I’ll give him sixpence.” He ran back to do so, whereon his Scotch friend wished to go the rest of the distance with the party in case they “ Wad na come intil the street, and find it themsels and he continued his politeness while within hearing, and kept his post where the party left him to see if they turned the proper street, and as t hey did so he waved his hand to signify his pleasure. That man was essentially a gentleman—naturally, according to his own lights, if not conventionally according to the lights of the world. But I digress. My ignorance of the geographical disposition of places in Christchurch made jne look rather awkward at the outset, but the situation was of short duration, and a shilling to the cabman brought relief. I knew friend Coker kept an hotel in the Cathedral city; and having stayed at the Occident! Hotel in Wellington some years before, while under his proprietorship, I decided on paying him a visit now. Consequently, on emerging from the platform, and unreflectingly concluding that my destination was some distance off, I yielded to the solicitations of the “ hansomest ” of cabmen, and, saying “ Coker’s,” was driven off in that dashing stylo Hansom cabs like to

adopt, but I had hardly time to arrange my overcoat on the seat beside me, when my hansom friend pulled up in front of the hotel. I looked, wondered, and alighted ; but to find that we were only about 100 yards from the station. I don’t think I ever had so short a ride before ; and since then I make it a habit to enquire what distance I am going to travel before I decide what the nature of the motor power is to be. (To be Continued.)