New Zealand as it is

Front matter

LONDON : PRINTED BY GILBERT A > RIVING TON, LIMITED, ST. JOHN't. SQU.i.EE. BY JOHN BRADSHAW, J.P. FOR THE COUNTY OF CHESTER, AND THE COLONY OF NEW ZEALAND. I lUltBott : SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, & RIVINGTON, CROWN BUILDINGS, 1 88, FLEET STREET. 1883. [All rights reserved. ] ■tu JjSUmort'am OF A DEAB LADY ; WHOSE ACQUAINTANCE WAS MADE IN NEW ZEALAND : — A GOOD WIPE — A BELOVED MOTHER — AN ADORED SISTER — THE FIBST OF MANY FBIENDS KINDLY GIVEN IN A NEW HOME ; THE FIBST TO BE LAID BENEATH THE COMMON SOIL. CONTENTS.

Chapter I. Introductory

It will generally be acknowledged that a book, to be satisfactory, should have a definite aim. It should be written with a purpose, and that purpose ought to be kept distinctly in view. Its object may be either to anmse or instruct, and it may often combine the two ideas with great advantage. In the present volume, it is to be hoped that matter will be found both new and sug gestive — something which will give a better idea of life at this side of the globe, and something which will tend to confirm or deter the intending emigrant. But little detailed information about the colony has been supplied by persons who have made of the country a permanent home — a home from which to compel a living by the toil of their hands and the sweat of their brow. This it is the endeavour of the author now to place before the public, and, while he attempts to do so, he fully recognizes the difficulties of such an undertaking.

In the first place, it is not easy for a stranger to convey the true value of his experiences to strangers, unless the latter should be able to seize a B certain impression of his individuality. In the second, it is next to impossible to draw apposite and trust worthy conclusions concerning the condition of a country relatively to others, unless a life of travel and somewhat extensive opportunities for comparison have fallen to the lot of the writer. In the present instance that lot has been more or less chequered : his numerous and varied facilities for studying life and social divergencies both in the Old World and the New commenced at Harrow ; then followed a certain period spent in Paris, Italy, and many parts of the Continent. This happened, too, in those good old days when the travelling carriage was entered at Marseilles, and the route was by road until Naples, bright with many a villa and fragrant with orange groves, was reached; when the Papal "fascia j^ssare" was a necessary credential to avoid delay at the Porto del Popolo, and plate and linen formed a heavy item in the baggage of those intending to winter in the City of the Seven Hills.

Next came a long, but not uninteresting period of twenty years, spent in the rapid whirl of business cares — a time when North and South America had frequently to be visited, and when the somewhat irksome restraints of office life were varied by changeful scenes and friend ships formed in many queer corners of the earth. Even yet we sometimes long — but long, alas ! in vain — for but another of those old fern-hunting expeditions among the mountains of Tijuca,— the bright-winged butterfly flit ting across the path, or the many-tinted humming bird hovering above the scented blossoms. In our New Zealand home, often do the recollections of more stirring times touch the chords of latent memory ; — the storm at sea, — the solemn burial, when calm at last prevailed, — the ship on fire, — but above all Introductory. 3 and over all, the glories of the primæval forest, the splen dour of the Alpine snows, and the grandeur of the Atlantic gale.

To us we trust that scenes like these have taught the truths which they must have been intended to convey : the omnipotence of God — the littleness of man. In a certain sense, New Zealand is but a little world. In proportion to the big cities of the earth, its towns are small, its villages still less. Its people, spread over an area almost identical with that of the United Kingdom, number no more than a sixth part of the population of the English capital. Such small com munities are likely to become narrow, especially that portion of the people which has seen no other country of the world. A large proportion of the colonists have found here but a second home, and the argument does not apply so forcibly to these. But the tendency is very marked in the young people who have been altogether brought up in the country.

They may be clever, well-educated, and even the children of those who have seen more, but their world is New Zealand ; they read, but what they read seems more like a tale of fairy-land than actual fact. They see nothing in this country like to the Old World buildings, towns, and ruins, which form the setting of the picture. As children we used to pass St. Paul's, and walk with awe among the tombs in the old Abbey on the Thames. We visited the Tower, and saw the knights clad in the armour of Agiucouit and Cressy. Our museums are full of ancient monuments and mummies, antique jewel lery and work from the ladies' bower, all speaking of the past ; and when we read, these things occur to the mental vision, and give life to what would other wise be dead. It is said that colonists born and bred, n when first they visit home are not impressed by what they see.

They miss the plains, the waving tussuck, the bright blue sky and atmospheric purity of their native land. Our fields look like gardens, our churches are only old bits of building, our churchyards but a number of graves. They fail at first to grasp the Avealth that tillage hides, the history those churches tell, the love that in those old churchyards lies buried. But notwithstanding this they have a country, and they love it; they have their tales of how their fathers strove suc cessfully with great and many difficulties. They have a history, but it is not ours ; they have experience, but it is of the new, and not of the old. The object of the following pages is to place these and other characteristics of this country before the reader in their cosmopolitan rather than in their purely colonial aspect; and to consider them rather as they affect those who are about to -leave their native land than as they appear to colonists themselves.

Chapter II. Outward Bound

We were recommended by " an old colonial " to come by sail round the Cape, on the ground that as time was of little object, we and all our belono-ino-s would, bv so doing, arrive together. This was very good advice for a family man ; but the untrammelled bachelor would probably prefer to come by Suez or San Francisco. The extra fares by steamer and the expense of transhipping in Australia or carrying a large family across the Amei^ican continent, would generally prove prohibitory. Steamers do not always serve in connexion, and hotel bills have to be encountered. Transhipments, too, cost more to a stranger than to one well acquainted with the ways and customs of the road. The farmer, ignorant of usual charges, and unwilling to seem a nig gard, is apt to pay heavily for any little services which may be rendered, just as he would do under similar circumstances either in Liverpool or New York.

Then come boatmen, cabmen, theatres, and other places of amusement, the latter rendered all the more irresistible by the tedium of a long voyage. Practically, therefore, our friend was right. By all means come by sail, if economy is to be studied. But in that case it is necessary to be prepared for a few discomforts which are not ordinarily to be found by the more expeditious, if costlier, steam service via Australia or the States. When making a selection from one of the many ways by which the colony can be reached, it will be advisable for a proposing settler, unless he happens to be a mil lionaire, to take the cheapest. As a rule, six weeks, more or less, are, when leaving old ties for the purpose of undertaking new responsibilities, but of little moment. Money is likely to be of far more.

Supposing a man, by the sale of his property, to have a larger sum standing at his credit in a bank than was ever the case before ; he is inclined to think twenty pounds spent here, and twenty pounds spent there, of little consequence. He will still have a large sum left, he argues, to take out to the colony. He is apt to run into wild extravagances which hereafter he may con sider had better have been left alone. A person about to emigrate should recollect that he will shortly arrive in a new country where past experience will avail him little, but ready money form a large ingredient in his future. It may be longer than he thinks before he can even settle down ; it will certainly be much longer than he thinks before any return from his labour can place him in easy circumstances. With such a prospect the wise man will spend as little as he can in coming out, and arrive with as much cash as possible in his pocket.

To those intending to come by sail, a few suggestions may tend to make the voyage somewhat less irksome, and minister considerably to the comforts of the tra veller. A small private store of luxuries, when a voyage of long duration is in prospect, is of more importance than might at first sight appear. Talk to shipping agents, and they will assure the applicant that any Outward Bound. 7 private supplies are altogether unnecessary — that their company invariably finds all the stores that can possibly be wanted, and that not to do so would be both a slur on the management, and in a short time bring it to irretrievable discredit. True it is, that most vessels are well stored with live sheep, pigs, and poultry of all descriptions ; that they carry a certain supply of potted meats, good butter and bad, biscuits, preserves, potatoes, and cheese.

Yet sheep do not seem to thrive after being a month at sea ; pigs have a foolish habit of jumping overboard, cutting their throats by suicidal contact with the waves, or dying asphyxiated in their sties ; poultry moult at improper times ; potatoes take to growing when least wanted so to do, and cheese emits an odour far from appetizing. Knowing all this, we would recommend a small supply of jam and some really good tinned potted meats ; also some tinned " coffee and milk" — a comforting and popular beverage at sea, whatever it may be on dry land. Nor should a small swing lamp be forgotten, with kettle over head, from which to brew a cup of coffee after '.the galley fires are out, or perhaps the last hot glass of grog. A few other trifles will greatly add to the comforts of the voyage, and some of these are almost necessary.

The traveller by sail round the Cape must, as a rule, fix up his cabin. This may be done in two wrays — either at his own cost and under his personal supervision, or the ship will undertake to do it on such terms as may be arranged. The latter course is preferable, and will be found in the long-run cheaper. In either case a few brass hooks, on which to hang the boot and clothes' bags ; a square piece of ticking, or some such strong material, to be nailed to the side, and containing a couple of rows of pockets, in which to fit brushes, bottles, and other little articles, will help to make the cabin more shipshape. A supply of line, to prevent the cabin boxes from rolling from side to side as the ship lurches, will add to the immunity of shins, and greatly assist the placidity of their owner.

By all means take a lounging-chair, in which to enjoy the soothing pipe, or rest when feeling ill at ease. Label it, ticket it, do all you can to make it private property, and from the very first assert your rights, or some one in time wall come to think it his, and make you feel an intruder, where by all law you should be owner. There always are a few on board who think the deck or skylight seats will make an easy resting-place until they try. To such short-sighted ones true kindness is to show no pity. If so improvident at first, how can they hope to make good settlers ? Tell them to net a ham mock or shift as best they can. A sea voyage always presents features more or less similar. To the sailor, busy with his professional duties, time slips rapidly away ; but the passenger must occasionally feel the tedious monotony of three months passed between the cabin and the poop.

Any little ex citement, such as the passing sail or harmless joke, is gladly seized upon to occupy the vacant hours. In our case the usual squalls and succeeding calms of the favourable breeze and adverse winds never exceeded a medium intensity. Once only during the " southing " were we under doubled-reefed topsails. Thus we were compelled to look within ourselves for any var-iation in our daily life. Of course there were little quarrels and little tiffs, but the general harmony was maintained. Myself and wife, a brother-in-law, a west-country farmer with his wife, four daughters, and four slouching boys, a Wellington wine-merchant and his bride, a north of Outward Bound. 9 Ireland family, a hydropathic doctor, an ex-officer, an ex-bank-clerk, a Scotch engineer, steady and hardworking, with two or three young men who seemed to have no idea of why they had left the old country, or what they were going to do in the new, constituted a fair sample of the human cargo generally carried by such ships as ours. The details may differ — the general type remains.

Chapter III. First Impressions

We sighted land the day previous to reaching Lyttelton. It was afternoon, and although the sun, setting in full blue ether, bathed the distant mountains in a flood of mellow light, it rendered the shore-line hazy, and its objects indistinct. We were not there fore prepared for the lovely panorama which warmed our hearts when first stepping on deck next morning. In front, the verdantly clad hills of the Peninsula and Port Lyttelton ; behind, a long range of snow-capped mountains, distant about sixty to eighty miles, their peaks rising from 3000 to 5000 feet above the sea. Behind these again might have been seen, had the in tervening ranges permitted, Mount Cook, the loftiest mountain in the middle island, its summit 13,000 feet high, and clothed with perpetual snow. Above was a clear blue sky, unstained by the slightest fleck of white.

We had seen views quite as lovely, but none which possessed exactly the same shade of colouring. The tone wras not so warm as that to be seen from the top of Milan Cathedral when reflected upon the Italian Alps, nor was it the cold clear blue characteristic of North American skies, neither did it call to mind the grey shadowless intensity of the tropics. It had a tinge of each — or perhaps more correctly, it was a combination of the three, but it possessed an individuality all its own. It must not be supposed that the New Zealand sky always wears the smiling aspect which it did that day. Here as elsewhere we have rains, storms, and moun tain mists. But it must be conceded that the num ber of days in which it is a pleasure to live ; and when the sky appears of the bluest and the landscape at its best, far exceeds the proportion in most other habitable countries.

It has often been said that moun taineers fail to appreciate the beauty of their native scenery. This may after all be but a popular delusion. Take them away and. set them down in some smoky city or monotonous plain, would they live there contented ? or would they not rather pine for the exhilarating air of their mountain slopes and the far-off beauties of their native glens ? At all events in New Zealand we have seen one of the oldest settlers start up suddenly from his seat in the railway carriage, and with outstretched. arms pointing to the mountains, and with animated ex pression, exclaim, "Isn't that lovely?" Indeed we often hear, instead of the stereotyped " Is it not a beautiful day ? " the expression, " Does not the country look beautiful to-day ? " Whether it be from the rareness of the atmosphere, or the greater variety of the mountain tints, we know not, but a true lover of the country always finds something fresh to admire in our island scenery.

Two transatlantic ships had just made the port before our own, and as the Harbour Board at that time possessed but one tug, we were left until late in the afternoon to enjoy the beauties of the landscape, so that it was quite dusk when we set foot on the harbour jetty. We believe that the one of our party most delighted at being ao-ain on shore was our little fox terrier " Wasp." It was vastly amusing to see him prick his ears, and sniff the air, evidently in some doubts as to his whereabouts. That he had suspicions of being no lonsfer on board was clear, but it was not until the actual soil was reached, and a patch of grass smelt and eaten, that he seemed fully to realize the pleasant fact. Then his enthusiasm knew no bounds. Every street corner was investigated, and every open door attracted his attention.

Dear old dog — now no more ! a link that bound us to kind friends at home, and happy lines in pleasant places. We were soon carried by train from Lyttelton to Christ church ; a luxurious mode of transit, far different from the toils of the pilgrim fathers, or of those early settlers who had to drag both themselves and their weary loads over the summit of the Port Hills. And here it may be remarked, that the new arrival has, now-a-days, no hardships to undergo, for the better-class hotels are both cheap and numerous. The usual charge is ten shillings a day, including sitting-room ; whilst bachelors and persons intending a longer residence are placed by arrangement on better terms. Food is plentiful and excellent. Soup, fish, poultry, beef, and mutton, vegetables, tarts, with bread and butter of the very best quality, ought to satisfy all grumblers.

To the poorer class of emigrants the Government barracks afford protection until they have found a first situa tion. Those in an intermediate position will find at the smaller hotels or lodging-houses, which every where abound, beds at about two shillings a nio-ht, one shilling being charged for each meal. Under 'such circumstances a person can calculate to a nicety what he is spending, and adjust his daily bill either to the depth of his purse, or to his own inclinations. The day after our arrival was Sunday, and the sun gave us a kindly welcome, making all things appear bright and good. It was pleasant that Sunday morning to form part of a large congregation in the Church of St. John. Service had of course been held on board ship, and some of the children were trained to sing fairly well.

But the change from this to a well filled church, with accompaniments of organ and able choir clothed in regulation surplices, was very great. Remember too this was the first opportunity afforded us of seeing a number of our future countrymen and countrywomen assembled together. To find such a crowd of well-dressed people — well-dressed, that is, according to their several stations — earnest in their attention to the service, and evidently appreciating the sacredness of the place in which they were collected, was a sight which altogether came up to, nay, exceeded our most anxious anticipations. And as the sunlight streamed through the painted windows of the apse, wre could not but feel grateful to have once more fallen amongst others who, like ourselves, were offshoots from the old country.

We have attended the services in American churches, but never could dismiss the thought that though in church, that church was not in England. There was something foreign which could not be forgotten. Whether in the highly-trained quartette which took the place of our more congre gational choirs ; or in the congregation itself, which remained seated whilst the Te Deum was being sung to a most elaborate setting ; or maybe in the delivery of the minister, which, while perhaps more correct than that of some of the clergy at home, still grated on the nerves from the pervading accentuation of the stage ; from one or other or from all these causes we never could feel quite at home. Here all was of home — homelike. The same service was read without alteration — the same hymn-books used to which we had been accustomed — the same attention paid to kneeling and standing; in short, the whole scene rendered it apparent that the Church of England and the Church of New Zealand were one and the same, undivided even by external forms.

It was pleasant, that first Sunday afternoon, to saunter through the public park, and note the numbers of well clothed and respectable people enjoying the sunshine like ourselves. Where, it occurred to us, are the great un washed — those unhappy beings who, through their vices or misfortunes, do not possess a Sunday suit ? Certainly our first impression was, that no such class existed in this country ; and subsequent experience has shown that, although there are many such hidden away in secret corners, their position is too often one of choice and not of necessity. The whole air of Christchurch breathes a solid respectability ; while the park in which we are sitting, surrounded on three sides by the prettv river Avon, and on the fourth by the Christchurch College and Public Museum, gives an opportunity for all to cultivate a taste for the beautiful, and add to their stock of general knowledge.

Plants and flowers from all parts of the world are acclimatized here : the surroundino woods, planted with English forest-trees, give evidence by their healthy growth that the soil and climate are congenial to their tastes and habits. But what shall we say of the weeping willows, for which the banks of the Avon are justly celebrated? They grow, as generally throughout New Zealand when planted in favourable situations, with a most luxuriant habit and to a laro-e size. Beautiful in summer with their light green foliage, they are scarcely less beautiful in winter when their elegant branches trail the ground. Christchurch might well be called the city of the weeping willows. But what makes Christchurch, and indeed the larger portion of Canter bury, so pleasant to the new comer, is the feeling of home which it keeps alive.

It is hard to believe that so many thousand miles of sea intervene between ourselves and the old country. It is not that its general appearance can be compared to a cathedral city such as Ely, or even Southwell — it is all too new and business-like, and yet to a certain extent it possesses the repose of these. Still less can it be compared to a large manufacturing or busy commercial town at home ; it is all too bright, and cheei'ful, and lovely. It is as though a magician had transported some of the prettiest villas from the lakes of Cumberland, and set them down, with their gardens all gay with flowers and evergreen shrubs, in an uncertain rotation along the several streets ; that he had then flown to Oxford and stolen some of its Gothic architecture, to be reproduced in another form in the numerous public buildings which everywhere adorn the town; and lastly, that to fill in any gaps remaining, he had brought from Canada, or some small lake-town of the United States, a number of those pretty four-roomed wooden cottages which abound there.

Such a description may seem fantastic, for Christchurch is not a collection of Cumberland villas, neither is it Oxford or any Ameri can town. It seems a realization, with a difference, of all three. To add life to the picture, tramways run along the principal streets, four-wheelers and hansom cabs, drawn by capital horses, are on the stands; a large railway station, numerous merchants' warehouses, ex cellent shops which would not disgrace any town at home, sawmills, engineers' and other manufacturing establishments, are placed in the business quarter ; and last, but not to be forgotten, is the handsome cathedral, designed by Sir Gilbert Scott, situated in the central square. All this will give a fair idea of Christchurch as it is, with its many churches, handsome residences, asphalt side-walks, and broad streets.

The first few days were passed in delivering some of our letters of introduction, and in taking hurried peeps at the surrounding neighbourhood. The latter included visits to Amberley and the Mount Grey Downs, to Whitecliffs, situated under the Malvern Hills, and lastly, to Leeston. Our intention before leaving England was to settle in South Canterbury, and in this we were confirmed by the advice of one who knew the country well. The little we saw of the district about Christ church fully confirmed us in our intention. The fact is that land in so central a situation, and which is worth anything, has been taken up long ago, and now sells at such prices as to put it quite out of the power of a new arrival, unless he be very wealthy, to buy with any prospect of future success. The land which can still be bought at a comparatively reasonable rate is not worth anything as an investment, and would only lead to future disappointment and loss.

The general appearance of the country, when taken as a whole, is disappointing to the casual observer. To one who has heard or read of the rich plains stretching from the Port Hills to the mountain ridges, the journey by rail from Christchurch either to Ashburton, Whitecliffs, or Amberley, is not a little disconcerting. It has been stated that the journey to Ashburton alone would be sufficient to cause an intending settler to turn tail, and re-seek his native land. But were he to do this, he would return with a greatly mistaken idea. The country around Christchurch consists of a very unequal quality of land, ranging from the most arid and stony tussuck to the richest swamp. Unfortunately for first impressions, the rail has everywhere been carried through the poorest country, with the exception of the line from Lyttelton to Christchurch.

That the amount of good land must be considerable is evident, not only from general report, but from the large amount of agricultural produce raised in the district. But it makes the intending settler shudder when he learns the value put upon such land — and not only the value put upon it, but the price at which it can be sold. Some of the fine grass country between Lyttelton and Christchurch would readily bring from 50/. to 60/. per acre. From personal knowledge we know that some of the fat Leeston swamps would bring from 25/. to 30/. per acre; nor would the price be less for any of the more highly cultivated and really productive land in the district, some of which expe rience has shown to be capable of producing an average of from forty to forty-five bushels of wheat per acre. But from this class of land we fall almost immediately to the cold clays of the Mount Grey Downs, which are dear at j OZ. ; or the more shingly plains, for which 5/., or even 3/., would prove equally costly.

These were some of the reasons which induced us to leave many kind friends in Christchurch, and push south with the idea of com pleting a previously formed intention. The following chapters will give the reader some insight into the causes which have rendered good land in North Canter bury so dear, and are now tending gradually to raise properties in South Canterbury to the same level. c

Chapter IV. Society

The subject of "Society " is dangerous ground, for society contains many gradations within itself, each claiming to be more or less its true representative. To one stand ing, as it were, upon an eminence, and taking a telescopic view of the globe, how puny and contemptible the narrow conceptions of mere cliquism must appear when compared to the " Society " of the entire human race. The late Bishop of Lichfield, formerly Primate of New Zealand, realized the great idea of one comprehensive human family; and both by preaching and in conversation endeavoured to promote a wider-reaching unity. In the course of a life passed in hard work, he once preached in the four quarters of the globe within the short space of six months. " The longer I live," he used to say, " the smaller I think the world."

Truth was, that the longer he lived, the more he recognized the necessity of an ail pervading Christianity ; and, as he did so, the kinder and more tender he became to each member of what we call " Society." He went forth in an apostolic spirit to approach and reconcile the English and American churches; but was, whilst attempting to do this, not at all to be imposed upon by the hollow and specious fallacies of every speculative " Down Easter." The word Society, as a prefix to the present chapter, Society. 19 must be taken in its primary and more general sense. It must be taken as meaning " the persons collectively considered who live in any region or any period," rather than as " a number of persons associated for any temporary or permanent objects." Let no one coming to New Zealand seek to emulate the fanaticism of the recluse, or expect to find the haunts of the social butterfly.