EARLY NEW PLYMOUTH.

Taranaki Daily News, 14 January 1922, Page 10

EARLY NEW PLYMOUTH.

SOME MORE REMINISCENCES. - (By A.8.H., Inglewood.)’ The Maoris in the ’fifties were an interesting study, they being gentle and tender in their family relations, and mourned sincerely for their dead. A woman lost her husband, and refused to be comforted. Site sat day after day on the roof of their late home, her head crowned with green leaves, with a branch in her hand, which she waved to and fro, in time to a mournful chant, which had a pathetic beauty al] its

They could recognise and respect dauntless bravery when their own passions were not roused. During the war a settler left the block-house, unarmed, to visit his deserted home. Lost in sad thoughts he was startled to hear a voice say “Kapai” (good)., and found a number of armed Maoris facing him. Obeying a wise impulse, he stood perfectly still and gazed at them. One, trying his nerve still more, laid his hand on his captive’s neck-tie, which he at once handed to him. Then he calmly and slowly moved away backward. They let him go, saying in after days that they could’ not kill him, looking in those dauntless eyes. I did not hear that his own comrades tried a similar experiment.

Donald McLean (afterwards Sir Donald) paid us occasional visits, hoping to arrange land purchases for the Government from the Natives. He was a sturdy Highlander, with an imposing presence, being well versed in. the •language. He had the Maori action of walking to and fro Us he spoke. He was a useful man, and did not neglect his own. interests. The language was easily acquired, and if the agent adapted himself to food, manners of eating, etc., he made himself more acceptable to them. The lords of the soil had a strong love and pride in it, no doubt prompting them to such fine action, as their magnificent rush through our people with their cry “Ake! Ake!” a gallant foe, indeed. There were giants on the earth in those days, when George Augustus Selwyn, talented, handsome and athletic beyond the average, left home, kindred and brilliant prospects to toil for and raise these people. They did not appreciate or understand his grand unselfish efforts, but he may have created higher aspirations, whose outcome is still in evidence. His splendid manhood was devoted to his work. Those privileged to hear his eloquent, impassioned words and see the flash of his wonderful eyes, cannot easily forget him. After many years of strenuous work, he only gave it up to return to England when summoned by his Sovereign. The just Judge, Christopher William Richmond, made his first home in New Plymouth. He was one of tht finest men the country ever saw. He was not long with us. He jbined the Ministry, and later took his seat as Chief Justice. It is said of him that only one of his decisions was referred to the Privy Council. His was a grand record.

His brother-in-law, Harry Albert Atkinson, soldier and statesman, made his first mark in Taranaki. He was a sturdy bush farmer, who laughed at mud and hardship, being always ready for the work that was nearest. He was a leader in the volunteer movement, and was affectionately nici named “Hobnailed Farry.” He did wonderful work through the long war with his gallant Bushrangers, organising a new system, not waiting for Brigade orders or unravelling of red tape. He fought the foe with their own weapons. On one occasion he surprised the wily foe, who was preparing for a feast from a farmers’ flock. The Maoris had just apportioned the joints when the Rangers appeared. The raiders fled, flinging their spoil right and left. The path they took was known for years as “the mutton track.” (The track is through “Hapurunui,” Mr. Brewer’s property at the “Meeting of the Waters.”) Happily those grim days had their lighter hours. The sight of those sturdy fellows returning, in high glee, their lusty voices shouting their “Georgian Chorus,” etc., cheered even the most despondent and taught their foes respect and admiration.

The firendly Natives in those days often did yeoman service for their white friends, but “blood is thicker than water.” and hints of impending danger did at times leak through. Often we had false alarms. It was pathetic to see white-faced mothers leading their little ones to take refuge in the Mankind Hill barracks, their men having been inarched off to meet the foe, who mercifully never were able to reach the town, a small part of which was enclosed by trenches thrown up near where the Methodist Church now stands, and at the other end, near the White Hart Hotel. The foll> were huddled together far too closely, and often ran grave risks in venturing out beyond the outposts. One quaint woman said to me: “My husband goes back and forth, but it is in jeopardy of his death.” Naturally sickness was rife, but it was wisely decided to send many women and children to Nelson. Sad partings took place. Life was very hard. Some of the wanderers never returned. Others who did found mournful gaps, but liearts were brave, and even in the darkest days we said: “How we shall talk of these days in. the years to come!” But the sick hearts of hope deferred were hard to bear, and after so-called peace was restored, further outbreaks occurred. John Whiteley, hero, saint and martyr, was shot, alone and unarmed, on his round of loving mercy. The brave' pioner, Gascoigne, and his family, were slain on their threshold by many whom they had trusted as friends, but such is border warfare. Sir George Grey visited us at intervals, handsome and debonnair. His was an imposing figure. He had a clear voice and polished diction, a fine memory for those Who were privileged to hear his fine oratory. His tasks were simple. He was kindly to little children, popular, too. but the wisdom of his policy was then, as now, a moot point. •