HOLIDAY-MAKING

Auckland Star, Volume LXIII, Issue 239, 8 October 1932, Page 3 (Supplement)

HOLIDAY-MAKING

A FORTNiGHT IN WELLINGTON. P.O. Box 313. Haw era. Dear Peter Pan. I've just returned from a perfectly wonderful holiday in Wellington, where I've been staying with a friend for the last fortnight. Would you like to hear all about it? Well, I'll tell you the most interesting parts

It" was just becoming dark when our train reached Wellington. I was spellbound by the lights—so many of them shining up on the hillsides like stars and gleaming in the hollows like jewels. When my friend and I were going to bed at night we looked out of tile windows at them all, sparkling everywhere. They were so like stars that we could even pick our constellations; one I found was like a little boy on a scootcr. Oh, they were lovely, those lights!

Wellington does seem strange at first, with houses built on the hillsides; with long flights of steps leading to them, especially when one is used to living in a. town where the ground is perfectly Hat. And the streets are so bewildering! I was staying not very far from Parliament Buildings, and I suppose I could find njy way down Lambton Quay to Willis Street, but if I went much further I should be hopelessly lost, I'm afraid. Of course, my friend knew her way about, so I didn't have to worry.

Of course, I to the Museum. It is not a very big building, but some of the exhibits are very interesting, especially the. New Zealand birds and the shells. Oh, those shells! I was in despair about them. There were so many, and all had their names. Now, I collect shells, as I've told ycu before, but I know scarcely any of their names, but I couldn't possibly learn all the names of those at the Museum —there were so many. There J"fc only one or two names I remembered, and I can't remember which has one of them!

Then we went one afternoon to the Zoo, the most interesting section of which was, I thought, the collection of birds. There was one cage full of scores of pretty lovebirds. You should have heard the twittering! Then there was the happy family, consisting of a white cat, white doves, fowls and guinea pigs, all living amicably together. I wae rather sorry for some of the poor caged a..imals, though— especially the eagles, which perched gazing at the blue sky and flapping their wings. It seems such a shame to shut those great birds up in a small space, when they, should have the whole wide sky to fly in.

We heard the Carillon play. I have heard it before over the wireless, and I love the bell music. The tower itself is a beautiful building, and "s a fitting memorial, with the ever-burning lamp at the top, tj those brave men who gave their lives for their country.

I vieited a newspaper office, and wae shown over the building, so that now I know ho\? -a paper is printed. When we were looking at the big printing machines a mail came along and explained them to us, and even set part going, so that a newspaper was cut off, folded and sent up a wire apparatus leading to the next storey. It was ever so interesting. Isn't it wonderful that a machine can cut the papers, fold them, and even count them We went to see where photographs were taken for advertising purposes; saw the big metal caste of the different pages of the paper, and had our names made in little metal casts on a linotyping machine. I suppose you've seen all these things, Peter Pan, as you work in a newspaper office. I think sometimes I should like to be a journalist. It seems such interesting work.

I think the pleasantest day I spent was when I went to see the Massey Memorial. We took a tram to Miramar and walked about four miles close to the sea, through a small bay known as Karaka Bay. It was a perfectly calm, clear, spring-like day. and we' sat down on the rocks for lunch, and listened to the waves gurgling and lapping around. The sea was blue and calm, the sky almost cloudless, > and the sunshine bright and warm. We- walked on, and reached the memorial early in the afternoon. It ie truly a perfect piece of architecture, I think, and a fitting resting-place for a great man; it was a place of peace and repose on that beautiful spring day; the golden sunlight fell through the high window like apertures and lighted up the pure white stone of the tomb like a benediction. It was a place in which one naturally trod softly, in reverence. The sunlight and the calm made one wish to kneel and worship.

The view from the memorial was wonderful. Below lay the rippling waters of the hafbour, silver in the sunlight, and to one side was the city of Wellington, mostly in a hollow, but spread up on the hillsides too, and straight across the blue hills rose, mysterious and beautifuL Grey and silver clouds were resting on the hilltops, and wraiths of mist went gliding through the hollows. was a glimpse of the snowsummited . Tararuae, too, with • light drifts of pearly cloud above them. It was a beautiful sight, and one I think I shall remember always.

We went round the Turn-bull Library, too, and were shown some of- the wonderful books there. Among them were Captain Cook's log bok and a journal of Samuel Marsden's; also a book made by members of an Antarctic expedition. Oh, there were more books than one could read in a lifetime. There was a beautiful cabinet there, too, made of different New Zealand woods, inlaid and highly polished. It is to be put in the new Dominion Museum when it is built. We took a tram to Wadestown and went to Wiltons Bush, and here again I was in despair, because the names were on some of the trees, and I couldn't remember them. My friend and I made up our minds to remember the Maori name of the bush-lawyer, though. It is "tataramoa," and we said, "Well, the rnoa is extinct, and we can remember it is "Tata, ah, moa.'" I remember the New Zealand honeysuckle is called rewarewa, though, so that is something. I was not really sorry to come home again, although I had such a wonderful holiday, but it's always nice to come home, isn't it? I love the journey, too—we had a beautiful day to travel home, and spring was abroad in all the fields, where golden wattle trees stood, lambs frolicked, and daisies Were white among the green grass. There were daffodils and narcissi, too, and fruit trees in garb of white blossoni. All too short the journey seemed, except that I was eager to be home again. It was so pleasant to step off the train and see once more the faces I knew so well. I remain, Yours sincerely, Elsa Flavell.

First Tramp (who has fallen into the canal) : Help! Help! Help! I- can't swim. •Second Tramp (oil bank): Well, licit hoi- can J, but Fin not making such a fuss about it.