INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF A JOURNALIST.

Observer, Volume 7, Issue 227, 17 January 1885, Page 9

INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF A JOURNALIST.

By Nemo (0. O. Montrose.)

HOW I BECAME A WAR CORRES-

POJNTDENT

Chapter LIII. — My First Literary Effort — Alcohol as a Poison — The Peach Grove Expedition — My First Attempt as a War Correspondent —My Connection icith the "New Zealander" and " New Zealand Herald "• — Learning /Shorthand — The .Late W. C. Wilson.

Mr earliest literary effort was when I was a very good little boy at school. On that occasion I raised myself at least six inches, in my own estimation, by writing a prize essay on "Alcohols," tracing the manufacture through all its various processes, and demonstrating that they were deadly poison. Ed passant _[ may remark that I have swallowed enough of them since to have poisoned a whole regiment of soldiers, if my theory had been Correct. After that effort of genius — I mean the theoretical, not the practical part of the business — I rested on my laurels for many years, until a circumstance occurred which gave me an attack of cacccthes scribendi and .set me writing again.

During the war in Taranaki there was a reconnaissance in force up the Iluirangi Valley, which was called "The Peach (irove Expedition/ and the regiment to which I belonged (the 40th) formed part of the division. The skirmishers of the Light Company, in advancing up to the bush, suddenly received a volley from the enemy from behind a ditch and bank fence, but having repulsed the natives and burnt several pas, the troops were ordered to retire, the skirmishers covering the rear through dense fern reaching above their heads. Taking fresh heart, the Maoris hung on their rear, keeping up n brisk fire, and sometimes approaching withing thirty yards or less. At intervals the skirmishers woiild hold their ground for a few minutes while a Avounded man was being carried out, but in retiring a man who had been shot was lost in the fern and left behind. He was only missed when the roll was called in Waitara camp. For this the Taranaki Herald, which, if I remember aright, was edited at the time by a Mr Richmond, denounced the 40th for having "shown the white feather," and to uphold the honour of " the old FightingFortieth," which at that time bore eighteen honours on its colours, including many of the historical battles and sieges of the Peninsular War and the Battle of Waterloo, I wrote a modest letter to the editor of the paper, explaining the circumstances, and signing myself ' ; Miles." The act was a very serious breach of the Queen" s Regulations and Articles of War for the British Army, but who would stop at trifles under such circumstances, especially when there was no one else to take up the cudgels ? My letter, however, failed to carry conviction to the mind of the editor, who merely acknowledged its receipt, and declared that he saw no reason to retract. So I wrote a second letter, going more fully into the details, and corroborating my statements with the evidence of other eye-witnesses, which made the editor cry peccavi and apologise in the handsomest terms in a leading article.

I never knew till years afterwards that Colonel Leslie was aware that I was the author of the letters signed " Miles," and the information was communicated to me by Mr Hulmo, now of Tauranga, an ex-lieu-tenant of the 40th, formerly one of the smartest officers in the corps, and the sou of a distinguished Colonel who did good service in the war in the North against the Ngapulii tribe. Colonel Leslie had waited upon the editor of the Taranaki Herald, and sought the name of " Miles," but, of course, in conformity with j ournalistic honour, the information was refused. The Colonel, however, assured him on the word of an officer and a gentleman that no harm should come to the writer, and upon this assurance, my name was given uj). It was perhaps on this and other grounds that I experienced so many acts of kindness from Colonel Leslie which I was at a loss to account for at the time.

I did not write another line until the Waikato war. Noticing many glaring and absurd blunders in the newspaper accomrfcs of engagements ' in. which I had taken part, I wrote to the New Zealamler, then, owned by the late Mr John Williamson, who had dissolved partnership with Mr W. C. Wilson, in consequence of a difference of opinion as to the moral justification for the war. Mr Williamson, whom I had the honor of knowing personally in after years, was a conscientious man, who had the courage of his opinions. Perhaps he believed that to destroy the Waikato tribes would be aiming a blow at the commercial prosperity of the Province of Auckland, for at that time the natives were large producers of grain and other agricultural products ; or that it was a war of the strong against the weak, which could not be justified on grounds of national justice or expediency, and that no mere act of aggression committed by an uncivilised and ignorant race could warrant their destruction and the seizure of their lands. I cannot tell, and, as he has passed away, it is too late now to ask him. At anyrate, he was a true man, did not flinch the consequences, and faced financial ruin rather than advocate what he believed to be

wrong.

He was so much pleased with my humble literary contributions that he requested me to become a regular correspondent at a fixed rate of remuneration per column. I forget what it was now, but it was good enough to make a man in the ranks imagine that he had discovered a gold mine. When the Netv Zealander became defunct, I transferred my services to the Neio Zealand Herald. We were then in the thick of the war, and I found a great deal to write about. SomehoAv, though it had leaked out that I was writing for the newspapers, and was daily and often hourly breaking the Queen's Regulations, no attempt was ever made to put them in force against me, nor was the slightest hint given to discontinue. I can only suppose that the military authorities thought it was better on the whole that the war should be described by an unprejudiced eye-witness who understood what he was writing about, than by a civilian who was generally miles away from the scene of an engagement, was likely to be misled by the canard mongers, to become a victim to the jealousies that often exist between different branches of the service, or to divulge secrets which might be prematurely communicated to the enemy. At all events, the officers placed every facility in my way in obtaining-, writing, and forwarding- budgets of news. I Avas allowed to write in the hospital marquee, furnished with materials, and my letters sent by the orderlies. I remember one experience in this hospital which is worth relating here. I was engaged writing an accouut"of an engagement while the doctors were busy around me. To complete my budget I had to attach a correct list of the casualties. The list lay beside me on the rough table, but at intervals Hospital - Sergeant Ilollett would come in to report that some soldier who was entered among the wounded had just died, and I corrected the return accordingly. But it was trying work, endeavouring to write amidst wounded and dying, with every now and then a smothered groan from some poor fellow who Avinced under the lancet or the probe, or the last Avail of someone Avhose soul Avas passing away.

(i lf you can write here," said Sergeant Hollct, "you Anil be able to stand anything afterwards. It's fine training for the nerves."

One difficulty I experienced in noting down, the disjointed reports of officers, was their rapidity of delivery. They had a quick, incisive, graphic way of communicating facts, especially after the heat and excitement of a fight, and it was often impossible to note down their statements, especially when they consisted largely of figures, or descriptions of relative positions. It was the result of their military training. To overcome the difficulty, I made a clumsy system of stenography, but even that fell far short of requirements. So I wrote to the late W. C. Wilson, and asked him what was the best system of shorthand to study. He sent me Taylor's, which I had begun to learn when I received a second letter from Mr J. A. Wilson, stating that Mr Kinsella, wh© was an experienced reporter, and a writer of Gurney's method, recommended Pitman's as the one most generally used, and the best. I procured the books, went at it with a will, and in a few months began to use shorthand a little. My method of practice was industrious and unremitting. I ran over the characters mentally on sentry, on outpost duty, at work in the trenches, and wrote and re-wrote the lessons scores of times when on guard, or in the intervals of leisure, never leaving anything until I had thoroughly mastered it. I often rigged tip a rough desk and wrote in the sun^ or rested a board taken out of a Maori whare on my knees. When I could not write I had a slip of paper, on one side of which was written the shorthand characters, and on the other the longhand, and whenever my memory failed me, I refreshed it by referring to the key on the back. It was slow and tedious work, but sure. I am particular in entering into these details, because they may bo of service to others, who have to study under similar difficulties. It is better to be slow and sure in learning a difficult art like shorthand. Before many months had passed I began to cx2Derience all the benefit of this method of study. As I never forgot what I had learned, I soon gained increased interest in the work, and confidence in my own efforts, and when the preliminary stages Vere got over, the progress was easy and rapid. The majority of men who begin learningshorthand lose heart, and throw up the sponge as soon as they began to encounter the real difficulties, and find that a knowledge of the art is not to be acquired in a few weeks or months. What the pons asinorum is to many students of Euclid the harder lessons in Pitman's phonography are to some beginners in shorthand.

I think 1 can honestly say that whatever position I have gained as a journalist, I owe to the great kindness I always experienced at the Lands of the late Mr W. 0. Wilson, for whoso memory I shall ever entertain the deepest feeling* of respect. lie was a hard man in business, but always strictly just and conscientious. He had to establish and mainfain the New Zealand Herald in times of great commercial depression, when a financial crisis hung over Auckland, and nothing- but the strictest economy, prudence and industry enabled him to pull through and make the Herald what it undoubtedly is, the leading daily journal in New Zealand. He successfully carried the paper through the terrible crisis that preceded the discovery of the Thames Groldfield, when

Auckland was threatened with a financial and commercial panic, when there were scores of failures every day, the streets were thronged with the unemployed, and a soup kitchen had to be opened to relievo the starving. But with all his scrupulous economy in his business, I often knew him to do generous acts without ostentation, and he was always a kind and considerate employer who practically understood the difficulties of journalism and could make allowance for shortcomings. My connection with the Daily Soutliern Cross, which took place after the Siege of Orakau, will form the subject of a future chapter, after that memorable affair has been described.

(To be continued.)