PAKIHI NOTES.

Temuka Leader, Issue 2748, 8 December 1894, Page 4

PAKIHI NOTES.

The Weather.—The weather has not been on its best behaviour. For over a wteek we were subjected to almost all the variations possible. The morning broke faif and promising, about 10 a.m. a strong nor’>wester set in, and before night the wind bad veered round to the south-west and generally brought up a sprinkling of rain. The atmosphere was never at rest, for when the wind was tired of the two quarters named it either came fresh from the ocean waves or cold from the mountain snow. I remember sitting one Sunday with a chilly friend on a garden seat. Although the midday sun Was predominant there was a cold wind blowing, and in spite of all ' his efforts iny friend could not keep himself warm. We shifted the seat to a sheltered bower, ; but the. acute wind whistled through the trees, and,after (Basting ah aspersion on the climate of my native land, my friend suggested that we should go indoors. Of course I resented the aspersion, but candor forces me to admit that on that day 1 myself did opt feel as warm as usual. This I have said was the role of the weather for about a week. Then came a delightfulchaiige. For two whole days ? Thursday and Friday, the sun, was prolific in his bounties, and tHe atmosphere was ‘ pervaded with a gentle breeze from the ocean. On Saturday, however, the heat was so intense ns "to almost singe one’s hair, followed, as one would naturally expect, on Sunday by welcome showers. Monday remained dull, but to-day, to my great disgust, the nor’-wester is again rampant. The Crops.—Some of the oops are looking particularly well, but 1 noticed others again in which the sorrel is making too much headway. They are quite, equal to, if not in advance of, those ronnd about Orari, but are not so even as some I noticed between “ The Stamps” and Temuka. My friend of the matipo tree, however, tells me, although his crop is looking well he has not had anything like a sufficient quantity of rain, but nothing short of a deluge would satisfy him. A good area of the laud is at present being broken up for turnips. 1 was surprised when riding out one night to see four contracting camps in close proximity to each other—quite a little township. Two of: these, 1 ascertained,' were engaged in road-making. The Biver.—The notice that the river was in good fishing order had not appeared in these columns before it was again in high flood. On Monday morning I could hear the rush of the turbulent waters, and taking " Within the Maze” in. my hand, I strolled towards the river bank. Imagine my surprise to see a sea of water before me. The waters had subsided a little yesterday, but the north stream must have been in very 'high flood indeed to send such a volume of water down the southern branch. This extraordinary behaviour of the river must be a source of great annoyance to the. local fishermen, for, as already recorded they were just beginning to scbre. My friend Will Wimble, had in fact, been telling me, with a benign smile on his face, how he had captured a 13-pounder, and as he always remembered me when his luck was good I wished him all the success imaginable. I aspect it will be two weeks, at least, before the river is in fishing order again. A Farewell.—lt was a lovely summer day, and, fanned by a gentle breeze fresh from the ocean-wave, I lay stretched at my ease on the grass plot that fronts my cottage, inhaling the balmy fragrance of sweet smelling flowers. Above, the lark was pouring forth his melodious soug of praise; in the adjoining meadows the bleating lambs were frolicking in their blissful ignorance, whilst from the not far-distant field came the clink, clink of chains, as the weary plough-horses forced the stubborn plough through the arid soil. A perfect lull seemed to pervade the atmosphere. All was essentially peaceful. As I lay there, looking np into the blue heavens, the little brook as it rushed by murmuring its oft-repeated song—- “ Men may come, and men may go”— started my soliloquies. Recollections crowded upon my brain—l fell into a deep reverie. I was about to leave—yes, to leave—a beautiful and well-cared for dwelling-house; a little school in which I took a pride; loving aud obedient scholars; a warm-hearted and generous people. I called to remembrance the day, four years ago, when I had turned yonder corner, a perfect stranger to everyone. How different were, things now!, I shall ever remember those happy fireside chats, those pleasant little “athonjes,” and those eminently successful, social gatherings. Here 1 have learned that “ Peace and plenty cheer the' laboring swain and “ Kind' hearts are better than coronets.” I exclaimed, in the words, of the poet, “ ‘ Pakihi,’ I love thee, all unlovely as thou seemest, and benighted as thou art.” It is hard to leave, but on the world’s broad field of battle one must for ever be pushing forward—he who hesitates is lost. May prosperity and happiness ever hover round the dwellings of such a kind, hospitable, and generous people, .