ABOUT PAPAROA.

Wairoa Bell, Volume V, Issue 198, 19 May 1893, Page 2

ABOUT PAPAROA.

(By our Tatarariki Correspondent). I was” much surprised to read the article of your Paparoa correspondent a few weeks ago, in which we were informed of the existence of a new Arcadia almost at our very doors, a fact most of us were in entire ignorance of, aud which many even now look upon as doubtful : Wliichimy meaning' is plain, and I'd have you to know That all this flap-doodle is nothing hut blow For that scribe would out-rival Tom Pepper When writing about Paparoa. Perhaps your correspondent may have slightly exaggerated the capabilities of his district. It

is a fault most of us are addicted to ; even King David in the days of old said “ That all men are liars, ’ and if I must confess the truth I am a little inclined that way myself : so, can make every excuse for my brother scribe of Paparoa. .But where is Paparoa, any way? I asked myself upon reading the article in question and, strange though it may appear, found some difficulty in getting anj correct information about the place, its prospects, or its people. One said it was near liowiek or Waiuku or some place about there, another that it was somewhere on the East Coast, while a third would have it that it was one of the Fiji Islands, At last I bethought me of asking a gentleman whose official position caused him to travel a good deal about the country, and in reply to my query “ Where is Paparoa, and what kind of a place is it?” he said “ Why Paparoa is away at the back of Toka Toka, and one of the most poverty-stricken holes tint was ever created,” While talking to the old woman that night on the matter, my little boy Tommy (aged eight years) said

“Father, I can tell you about that place : you know Bill Jones lived there one time and he has often been talking to me about it. Give me sixpence and 111 write it all down for you.” Now I felt doubtful about Tommy, who is rather given to draw upon his imagination—a fault I cannot well correct, as like his father he will have tojbecome a newspaper correspondent some day, but X told him to write out his essay and stick to the truth as near as possible. Here it is, but I fancy his mother has been correcting the orthography and grammar :

“ Paparoa is the name of a place in the far North which was diskovered years and years ago by Kriosper Columbas. The inhabitants profess Chiistiauity, and always keep a missonary for their own selves. They are very good people and never eat their missonary, but live moastly on taturs and eals and other vegetabuls. I would not like to live in Paparoa for I would have to go to church three times every Sundy, and never have no money to put in the plait, for no one there never has any money only koppers. It is rong- of mothers not to give their little boys money for religous pupases, specially when sig-aretts and things are so chepe in the stoars. The people nearly all wear clothes on Sundays, particularly the feymales, who if they have not got real clothes wear flour bags insted. Bill Jones’ sister has a—[There is a blotch hero which renders the next word illegible. Ed. | —made out of two flour bags, which is marked behind ‘ ‘ Rotary Process ” and down one leg ‘‘ Housewiles’ Pride.” There ain’t no pubs in Paparoa, only sly grog shops. They will only servo respekable peeple who must talk it away and get drunk qruet like in their own shanties. Katterpillows and things of that kind won't live there bekaws they doan’t like flax and fern and teatree, which is too hard for their teeth. That’s all i can rekolect about Paparoa except that peeple live in howses and wash their selves sometimes when they are going away from hoam.” This is Master Tommy’s account, but how much truth and how much fiction it [contains X am unable to say. Slightly modified, however, it is pretty near what most of the people around here believe. No doubt we are all iu error, and hope your Paparoa correspondent will soon favour us with another epistle, containing more particulars of the immense resources of his districti Never mind about our temporary prosperity, and our poor gum land—we know all about that, and must make the best of it When Trounson becomes Premier of New Zealand, and Paparoa the seat of government (bat not before), the Wairoa will sink into oblivion and its prosperity be numbered with the past.— 11 Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.” PAPABOA. Respectfully dedicated (without permission) to the Paparoa Correspondent of 1 The Wairoa Bell.’ I hear of a place called Paparoa Which 1 The Bell’s ’ own scribe about doth blow, Fa'her, oh where is this blooming shore, .Shall we not seek it and toil no more ? Is it where the dock and the sorrel grow, And the thistle thrives, is that Paparoa ? Not there, not there, my child. Is it far - away near the Otamatea, Where none can indulge in a jovial spree, Where the settler quietly takes his ease, And potatoes grow nearly as large as peas. On the poor bleak hills, though they look quite grand, Oh, say, is it far from Schnapper Land ? Not there, not there, my child. Perhaps it is where as I have read, Whole families d/ne on a Schnapper’s head, And where (but of course it’s not their fault). A dainty dish is boiled spuds and salt, And brimming basins of buttermilk flow, Is it there dear Father, this Paparoa Not there, not child. Or is it a place in the Southern Sea, Where xhe main product is the lively flea, And flour bag suits are the usual wear Of the Cockatoo and his daughters fair, And the grasshopper starves, and the crickets go Far away in disgust, is that Paparoa ? Not there, not there, my child. I hath not seen it my gentle child But have read of its climate soft and mild. And its verdant fields with the clover white, And the grass that will grow in a single night Over six feet high ; less an inoh or so, jx land of delight, that’s Paparoa. It is there, it is there my child. Where the settlers thrive in most robust health, And pockets are lined with unbounded wealth. Sleek flocks and herds unrestrictedJjjjjjftm, Aud flowers adorn each rural home™ While rich luscious grapes in profusion grow, Hail ! Queen of the North ! Proud Paparoa. It is there, it is there, my child. —FT. TatararikH The Twi emeries, Dove Cot Villa'