LIFE IN THE BACKBLOCKS.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXV, Issue 26, 30 January 1904, Page 1 (Supplement)

LIFE IN THE BACKBLOCKS.

(By Sarah Carter.)

Empire-builders indeed are the men and the women, ton, who. bravely taking th"ir courage in both hands, face the privations and hardships of bush life —and that these are real and not imaginary only those who have experienced them can tell. There is

much brightness, no doubt, and when health is good and the weather fine, all the drawbacks vanish away like the mists before the morning sun. Life is to a great extent elemental away buck there in the heart of the virgin forest, leisure is not a Will o' the Wisp, but a reality: there is time for many things that are crowded out in the strenuous life , ., and if one has sufficient force of will it is possible to keep the rust off by reading, music photography or some other accomplishment: but for any'enjoyment at all thrrn must I> ;> good health, and there is no rlnubt that the la-ck of medical advice deters many from pioneerincr. What a boon a farmer doctor would be in the out-of-thr- ,- way districts! But how this could be managed it is not easy to sec. No man who has spent much money and valuable time in procuring a degree is likely to bury himself where in a few years he would get "blue mouldy," as Paddy says.

Some people —and no doubt they know what they are talking about—say that chivalry i≤ dead, as dead as a donkey; but if they saw how kind the honest simple-hearted bushman is to women, 'pears to mc they'd change their minds. To her is always given the easiest seat, the best food, the hardest and safest piece of roar]; if she is ill men tsar off, regardless of horse flesh ox time and space, and all along the road fresh relays of horses await the doctor. And to little children, too, how kind they are. carrying them for miles over roads that would scare a townsman into a fit, or holding a baby in front of them in the saddle; and to one another, too, they are ever willing to

''lend a hand." A knock with a whip handle on thp verandah-post calls the inmate out: '"I" hay, Smith, a beast of yours has gol into the swamp: I'll give you a help (o get it out, -, and away the two go. and if it. takes half a day to rescue trie poor animal not a grumble is heard. Of course this it not all sentimental humani'tarianism; that beast represents so much hard cash to its j owner, arid the man who gives aid j knows that he will get it too should I the need arise. . And how sociable they are. Bless you, they can yarn by the hour, with long pauses in between when the plug of tobacco goes round, is pared by a j knife aurl rubbed between the palms. ! then the pipes are knocked against the fire-place, refilled, fired up, and then the talk goes on again—very often on politics, for the bushman is a conscientious newspaper-reader. Many n knotty ■ question is Ihra&hed out. in the dim j whare with its calico window, and some j I are quite sure thsf ihpy could srive , points to Chamberlain, or even King; i Dick him-.elf. ' Hospitality always follows on the | ! heels of .sociability, and in the back ! blocks this Ls very much the ease. Whill- : i ever the larder contains the visitor is made free to duff, or a spotty i.s the piece de resistance, and very good they are too. in spite mayhap of be- ■ ing boiled in an oid trou-ser leg and , cooked in a billy. The bushmau is i often a good cook, but some of his ideas are rather primitive. Bread he can make either from leaven or yeast; and baked in a camp over a soda loaf is a treat, especially when sonic sugar and a few currants are added, then he calls it a cake. At Christmas time great and mysterious are the preparations, but the result does not always repay either the amount of materials used or the time expended. Very often he goes 1o town for Christmas, and has a good time, and if he is a sensible fellow, does not "'"knock down" his cheque at the first hotel he comes to. For diversion there are concerts, followed by a dance, and a ride home in j the grey dawn. These are occasions of ,

great enjoyment at little outlay. What ; a flutter there is among the girls, when i a-stiohing and sorting up, and what I joy when a new blouse can be got, and | very fresh mid dainty thpy manage to j Inok, and, with their clear complexions ; and bright eyes, and movements of eager i enjoyment make just a_> attractive a picture in their own way a.s v soeieiy | function in town. After all, our capa- ; city for enjoyment is limited. The mere j j we have .the more we want; and I hf ' i bush girl in muslin blouse and simple \ brooch gets quite as much pleasure out , of the evening as a society V>lle in her : j wiu're satin and diamonds. To orrwho h3.s seen both, this is indisputable.. ', Now. let us suppose n young man of β-ood physique and industrious habit'; wishes to take up land that is unimproved land, and sets out to make the desert, blossom as the. rose. How shall 'ie : proceed? Well, the first' question is. ; . "Has he capital, and how much?" That all-necessary point settled, he goes to ! : the Crown Lands Department to make : i inquiries as to what "Blocks" arc in the : market. lie is given a. map, which h" ! i carefully studies at his leisure, decides ! ; or. which locality he prefers- and snts out to "view the country o'er."' When ha ; is arrived, as the French say. he will ] . lx> wise if he kee.pe his eyes and ears i open, and suspends his judgment, for it i is utterly unaccountable what men will do when seized with land fever, "Truth is ever on the scaffold." and he will bs j entertained to the most extraordinary ! yarns—especially if he is taken for a j "blooming new chvun." Having made his j choice, he hies him back to town, and with all despatch, secures his "section," ' unless there are other applicants for the same piece, -when lie will have to await the ballot. With what pride he ' realises that he is now a landowner, and ' has a stake in the country. Let us pre- I sume that the season is winter. In that \ case his next step is to call for csti- j mates for bush falling, this usually runs i from 20/ to 24/ per acre. Next the un-der-scrubbing has to be done, and then all timber under about three feet in diameter is felled. Then follows a few

I months of waiting, for the bush cannot i be burned until March, for it requires the i summer heat to sufficiently dry it. With i what anxiety T.he weather is watched I in the closing days of February. Even the wind comes into the calculations, i for it is a serious matter if the fire ' spreads on to ;i. neighbour's clearing. Then, "all things being equal," the allj important ignition is accomplished, and j presently great volumes of tawny smoke, ; lanced by red tongues of ilauic, darken I the afternoon sky, and dim the glories i of the sunset. In great massive cloudi like colnmns the smoke rise-* to the sky, creating a very majestic sight, suggestive ; r>f the destruction of the tines of the Plain. But th? finest sp?dacle is witnessed when darkness falls, and the "•ulliei nre transformed into blazing thoroughfares, sometime* suggesting a : city lit up for some great occasion, on a ! vast scale of illumination; then, again, ; ona seems to be wandering with Dante ! and Virgil in the pages of the "Inferno." For weeks iiftrr everyone lie routes ! across will greet him with the query, !-'Have you had a good burn?" and he 'will be" a lucky man if he can answer in Ihe affirmative. The burn well over and the ashes j thoroughly cooled, it is time for sur- ! face sowing. Seed merchants will tell you to give from thirty vo forty-five ; pounds of seed on rvcry acre. Now this is sheer extrn.vagen.ee, sixteen to J twenty is any amount. As to the mix-. ! turo, the following one has stood the 'test of experience. (X.13. Those who are | ! not interested may sk:p this) viz.: ."Jibs | ' Cocksfoot, Olbs ' English Rye, 21bs, i Chcwinjrs Fescue, ilb Crushed Dogs; Tail, lib Timothy, fib White Clover, Jib Alsyke, lib Devonshire Orey Turnip, j j Unless oar bushman wishes to spend the winter in a ten*: he will have had I timber cut out for his whare or house, i and now is the time while the grass is j j growing to set to work to put a roof j over his head. The question of "house < or whare," will be settled to a great extent by the fact whether he is going to "bach" or is going to take to himself a wife. Is there in the whole gamut of human experience anytb/mg

\ sweeter than making a nest for our beloved V What happy anticipations weave themselves into the sawing of boards and the accompaniment of the hammer driving home the nails which are to make the edifice sure and steadfast. Then a garden must be prepared for -the spring vegetables. Hard labour it is. breaking into the virgin soil where the. mattock has to cleave its way into the net work of roots, but love lightens toil, and the thought. " We'll have peas of Christmas," calls up a vision of a dainty wife and a happy home, and the toiler strengthens his back and rests on his spade well content. About June he buys his stock, and now he is set up as a farmer and ready to face, the practical question of how to make ends meet. If he is fortunate in his choice of a partner, and there are plenty of good-hearted girls in the world, only the. good ones need some looking for. (iold is heavy and sinks out of sight: it is not always the gay girl full of chaffing talk who will make the most cheerful wife. No, she has often to be found patiently doing her duty in the home, and not got for one asking either. That life in the bush is full of many unique and often trying experiences to the young wife is undeniable, but to go into that would take an article to itself.