Contributor.

Southern Cross, Volume 1, Issue 35, 25 November 1893, Page 7

Contributor.

FROM THE OLD WORLD TO

THE NEW

(By W. H. Mathieson.)

As I Lave said nothing about

SHIP LIFE,

I may just say a word about it here. 3 enjoyed myself more on ship board than anywhere else on my trip. One T«ason was that throughout my trip I was never seasick. I was about the only one hi several steamships in that position. M; n j ol the ladies particujarly suffered terribly, and I pitied the poor creatures. One young lady in particular on my trip Home was so long ill that I was really afraid she -would shuffle off altogether. She could eat nothing, and was kept alive by a little port wine. Every morning 3 got up at six o’clock, had a hot bath and finished with a cold shower. I 4hen had a cup of coffee and a walk on deck till breakfast at half-past eight. This course, which I followed religiously every morning, was mainly responsible for—first, my good health, and secondly, my good spirits. After breakfast I sat down and did a few hours’ writing, and enjoyed working np my notes; and have been very much gratified at the interest that has been taken in my letters, not only in Southland but throughout the colony. When I arrived in Auckland 3 was met at the wharf by some old Invercargill friends. Mr and Mrs Deverill (late of the G-overnment Survey Office) I found out here, and in the course of conversation it came out that they had been receiving the Southern Cross, and had read all about the Royal marriage. I got the first glance of the paper with the description of it in. When I got ashore at Wellington I met a couple of Invercargill lads, and the first words they addressed to me were —“ So you were sunstruck in the Red Sea ? How are you now P ” To say I was surprised but faintly indicates my feelin the continued change, I had quite forgotten that event, for after the first fortnight I had suffered no inconvenience from it. The incident, however, shows that the Cross has a wide circulation. But I must get back to my subject. Shipboard to many people is a most insufferable bore. They have nothing to do, and after the first day’s novelty has worn off they do not know how to pass their time. They get tired sitting on the deck hour after hour doing nothing. They get tired of reading with only the break of the meal-bell to relieve the monotony. They try sleeping, and they soon get tired of that, and for very desperation they find their way to the smoking room and try cards. From cards to drink is an easy step, and I have seen plenty in my trip that spent from breakfast time till the lights were put out in the card room from the first day out till the whistle had sounded going up to the wharf. Therefore to anyone intending taking a long journey I say, Have something to do. Have some hobby—improve yonr mind by learning something. There is no rest this side of the grave. A writer on this subject says— “ You must work still or be for ever an ass, a cabbage, a slag, a molecule in the eyes of all men, your wife, and yourself. A certain Lord Chancellor used to saj r that he found the greatest relaxation in grinding at the mathematical problems of Euclid. Mr Gladstone says his best rest is in a change of work. When Mr Balfour comes home from the House of Commons ki the early morning, he tears the heart out of his piano as a rest before going to bed. Rest from work you cannot have if the soul in your bone machine be not a contemptible farthing candle. Taking things easy is not letting things slide. What is it then ? Have you ever seen a hawk sailing round a mountain on extended wings that do not even quiver, and yet which hear it up and send it with the speed of an arrow over tree and stream, over the foaming fall and the bill of purple heather ? He is taldng

things easy, and still he is getting on better than if he were to beat his wings until not a feather remained, and shriek till he set his neck awry. There are some minds fine as gold, clear as crystal, that in the same way take things easy and yet sail on to the amazement of all. Fools think they are not working. But they are. If not with their hands, then with their hqads. ‘On what do yon stand ?’ asked an elector of young Benjamin Disraeli, ‘On my head,’ the youth replied.” Indeed it is a strange affair That in life’s belter skelter, O ! Men have to toil so long and sair For ejd, and clacs and shelter, O ! HEW YORK. The first sight o c America is obtained at the mouth of the harbour, Sandy Hook, Hew York. We got in on a lovely morning. During' the two days and nights we were coming along the coast, on what is called the Hewfoundland 1 Banks, we were enveloped in a. dense fog, that kept the poor captain on the bridge, and the fog horn was sounded every 30 secs., night and day: The clear spring morning was thei’efore doubly welcome, and made the beautiful green islands down the bay look delightfully fresh and charming. The opposite side of the bay is adorned by beautiful villas, snugly sheltered with the finest trees I had seen in all my trip. The majority of the houses were painted pure white, with a setting of dark green foliage and the lighter shade of the closely cropped lawn in front, each assisting to set the other off. The Americans on board drew my attention to this, and were evidently proud of their harbour. We soon got in sight of the most magnificent statue in the world—the statue of Liberty —and the city of Hew York was shortly in view, and a most magnificent suspension bridge next seen, like a spider’s web, in the distance, bridgingthe space between Hew York and Brooklyn. Unfortunately the two cities are at loggerheads. If the two cities were to amalgamate, their united populations would be nearly three millions. They would then prove a worthy rival to London. As we passed up the bay we met a magnificent five-decker river steamer laden with women and children, who got a ride down the bay and back again for fivepence. Hundreds were on board enjoying the magnificent morning. The large beam engine working between the two. funnels looked peculiar to mo. This steamer is laid on every fine day, expressly for the convenience of the gentler sex, and there could he no question about its being popular —one glance at its crowded decks proved that. One thing I did not fail to notice was the clearness of the atmosphere, caused by the steamers using smokeless coal. This fact was accentuated by large petroleum works, covering over 20 acres, whose large smoke stack was vomiting dense columns of the most villainous black smoke I ever saw. The crude petroleum was conveyed to these works, some 60 miles inland, in pipes. These works supply Hew Zea’*ud with kerosene. They ai’e the most dirty-looking works I ever clapped my eyes on, and looked all the blacker from their contrast to the beautiful white villas I have just been describing. The next thing that struck me was the very puny appearance of the river tugs. It caused me to laugh heartily to see a little toy steamer with a larg’e three-masted schooner-rigged timber vessel, loaded three feet above the bulwarks, comingup the river behind one of these diminutive tugs, (to be continued.)