Sketcher.

Southern Cross, Volume 2, Issue 6, 12 May 1894, Page 7

Sketcher.

INVERCARGILL BY NIGHT. (Contributed) I suffer from attacks of insomnia, and, being visited with one at the beginning of the week before last, found time drag very heavily, listening to the ticking of my clock, and also the regular breathing of my fellow-lodger, which, accompanied by an occasional snore, only added to my misery. After much rolling and tossing from side to aide, 1 finally arose, decided to try the effects of a walk,, and, quietly dressing, and taking my mackintosh and umbrella, I stepped outside. The wind was blowing very fiercely, roaring and shrieking through the trees, whistling among the telegraph wires, and howling and moaning round the houses, at one time dying away almost to a whisper, only to return with redoubled fury, as if intent on levelling everything in its path and furious at its non-success. The heavens were obscured by dense clouds which threatened rain at any moment, and, although the moon was obscured, still it was the means of preventing that pitch darkness which usually accompanies such tempestuous weather. I walked briskly onward, passing house after house, each wrapped in darkness. How I envied the inmates their deep slumbers ! Presently a light appears in a room, and I pause to 1 watch. It passes to another, and, after a few moments, returns,, disappears, and all is dark again. I journey on, thinking that, no doubt, the light has been carried by a loving mother, aroused by her child’s cry, and she must fly to its assistance, perhaps only to find it uncovered or frightened by a dream. Happy child ! How soon it is soothed by a mother’s caress. Happy mother to possess such confiding love. At intervals the moon peeps through a break in the clouds, adding a new

charm to the weirdness of the scene. Horses, some with rugs and some without, and occasionally a few cows, are passed, all reposing under the lee of various kinds of shelter. How and then the hark of a dog breaks on the air, showing that although others are asleep he is wide awake enough to proclaim “ Ho admittance,” whatever the business may be. This is the only life ! meet with, seeing nothing but houses, which stand up like large shadows in the dim light. As I turn into Dee street a very heavy hailstorm comes down, and I wait under the shelter of a friendly verandah and watch this grand scene. The hail falls thickly and heavily, and soon the ground is enveloped in a mantle of white, on which the moon finally sheds her rays. I try to ‘imagine how many footfalls a day these verandahs will reecho to, but this is far beyond my comprehension, and once m«re I proceed onward. I pass the railway station and come to Ja building well lit up. On going near I find that I am looking into the engine - shed. Here the cleaners are all busy preparing “ the iron horses ” for their various duties of the morrow. All is bustle and activity as if the men were doubtful of being ready ere daylight breaks. From here I go to the wharf, wondering how the small craft have survived the storm. I find four, including a yacht, have foundered, with the remainder almost full of water, but still floating defiantly. As I am about to return home I hear voices in the distance, and soon make out four muffled figures approaching. Wondering what brings them out so early, I stop to watch. Imagine my surprise on seeing each one has a towel. They evidently represent our most enthusiastic bathers. After a hurried survey of the heavens and a short consultation, they decide that they can be in and out before the next squall. At once undressing, and having carefully rolled their clothes in their overcoats, they jam the latter between the steps, seats and planks of the wharf. Then one short run, and all are over in the water, swimming and chasing each other, laughing and joking, evidently in great enjoyment, heeding neither the coldness of the wind or the water. In a few minutes they rush out and dress. This is no easy matter owing to the strong wind. Standing on their bundles, they hold up an article of dress which immediately fill out with the wind and' as they try to get inside of it the wind retaliates by twisting it into all sorts of shapes. This only causes more hearty laughter and jokes. The rain now sets in. The bathers snatch up their remaining garments and rush to the shelter of the large shed at the end of the wharf, where their toilet is completed. By this time I had arrived, and joining them, we got into conversation, when I learnt that they had started bathing in September of last year, and since the beginning of this year had not missed one day, heeding neither low tides nor unsettled weather. They also remarked that “ some day ” they expected to see baths erected, as Or. Hanan, our energetic representative, had the matter in hand. I asked why was “ some day ” so emphatically spoken. They replied —“ Oh, this same question was talked of eight years ago, so surely it cannot be held in abeyance much longer.” I expressed my doubts as to “ eight years,” but they were most decided cn the time. If baths are not to be erected they intend to try and have a shelter shed put up on the wharf, as they do not mind how cold the water is, but say that undressing and dressing in rain, frost and wind, detracts from the pleasure of a dip. Besides, they know others who would like to bathe, but who do not relish undressing on the wharf. I was surprised to learn that two of them were lately from Australia, where cold weather is a rarity. I must also add that they all looked the picture of health—no doubt the result of their morning’s swim. I remarked that I did not think our Borough Council knew we had such

enthusiastic bathers in our midst, otherwise they would have this public matter attended to without further delay ; and then as daylight had broken on the scene T returned to my lodgings, to find no little commotion had been caused by my absence. My appearnce dispelled alt fears, and feeling tired, T speedily sought refuge in Blanket Bay.