A SWAGGER'S DAY.

Auckland Star, Volume LXV, Issue 142, 18 June 1934, Page 6

A SWAGGER'S DAY.

TYPES MET ON THE ROAD. (By JjII.M.) A man who tramps the roads in search of work ha* many things, often .very unpleasant ' things, to contend with; Hunger, physical weariness, and rural suspicion are perhaps themain ones of a lengthy list. Yet there is a certain fascination about the life. I think it is the uncertainty of it, not knowing what is waiting for you around the corner, that imbues it with a piquancy that many find irresistible. •One moment you arc trudging along, footsore and weary, and the next minute you are seated in a luxurious car, bowling smoothly along, ■bound for nowhere in particular, your fate in •the hands of the gods. And if you are observant and at all inclined to psychological study, each day will add to your knowledge of that queer 'and perplexing thing, the human mind. Vivid recollections, of an irate farmer who had found me fast asleep in his haystack one i '.morning had disturbed my slumbers, and at [ the first sign of daybreak I arose and shook myself free of hay and dust. Surreptitiously ' I crept from the shed where I had sheltered for the night without • asking permission of Sthe owner, and breathed a sigh of relief when ! 1 a, simp look at the nearby farmhouse disclosed ' no sign of life. Reaching the road, I stood fora moment glancing down at a sleeping township' that lay in a. valley about a mile below'. ; When passiirg through this place the previous evening it had struck me as being a rather ' dirty little place, an industrial centre of mean ' shops and houses clustered around a huge meat works. Now, however, as the warm, soft light of the sun embraced the roof tops audohimneys, giving them a peaceful beauty, 1 my first impression of ugliness, which I had • thought the main characteristic of the- town. [ was "completely obliterated, and I turned and walked away, marvelling at the wonderful power of Nature.

A Kindly Blacksmith. That morning I tramped about twelve miles without anything of interest happening. Nobody gave me a lift, and the only people who evinced the slightest interest in me were the farmers and their men, who regarded me with typical suspicious looks, which I had become quite hardened to. In fact since becoming a wayfarer I believe there ie nothing on this earth you cannot get accustomed to. Once I thought three meals a day quite indispensable. Now I get along very well on two, and, indeed, very often one has to satisfy me; and, I must confess, I feel much better physically, in particular, for the change. * Reaching a country village about ten o'clock, I walked along the main street. There were a few people about the combined general store and post office, and one or two lounging in front of the hotel. Of course, a man with a swag was the cynosure of all eyes and the subject of whispered remarks. On the outskirts of the township, I came upon a blacksmith's shop ami caught sight of an aged smith at work within. A ewagger naturally becomes something of a physiognomist, and as I reckoned the smith had a kind face, I went into his shop and asked permission to boil the billy. The request was readily granted. On learning that I had tea and sugar (a swagger's most treasured possessions), but no other food, the smith hastened away and wrought back bread, butter and cokl meat. While I ate we discussed the slump, its cause and remedy. We agreed that the latter was possible only through a drastic change in our land .policy. It was a short step to Henry George and land nationalisation, and so an hour passed very agreeably. Finally, I thanked the old smith, and, after shaking hands, we parted, his last cheery words being, "Good luck. Call in again if you pass this way." A Lift. I had not travelled very far when the welcome sound of'the grinding of brakes came to me, and a two-seater ear pulled up beside me. "Going far?" asked a pleasant voice. I was, right to Auckland, I answered, as I took my place beside, the driver. He informed me that he could take me as far as To Kuiti. I learned that he was an English, tourist doing New Zealand by car. Seldom a day passed, he said, without him giving someone a lift, and very often ho had company all day long. "Of course," ho said, "I wouldn't do it in England, but the New Zealand swagger is quite different to the English tramp." I really enjoyed that, run along the coast. The scenery, of course, is magnificent. Now and again, through a break in the hills, we caught a glimp.se of the blue Tasman, tranquil and lazy beneath a blue sky. On our right was the rugged grandeur of the New Zealand bushclad hills.

I have discovered that my capacity for tho enjoyment of scenery depends, like many other things depend, on my stomach. This is perhaps a crude way to put it, but to-illustrate my point, I would at timee lunch sooner look upon a juicy beef steak on a plate before me, or, indeed, on the humble loaf of bread, than on the .view of the country obtainable from the summit of Mount Egniont. My benefactor "shouted" me afternoon tea, kept mo liberally supplied with cigarettes of a particularly choice brand, chatted affably about every topic Hinder.the sun, gave me half-a-crown, and wished me srood luck when wo finally arrived in To Kuiti. As it waft not yet four o'clock, I decided to tramp on until I came to a shed or haystack where I could impend tho night. Not far from Te Kuiti I came across a brother wayfarer sitting- by tho side of the road. JTe wae an old man, rather frail-looking, and I thought lie would bo much better joff in an old men's home. I stopped, and of course we talked "shop." I found him a surprising individual. Quito candidly, hp. admitted that ho was a swagger from preference, and that he had been one for over twenty years. With some pride, lie- told mo that ho was a "professional" and well known in various parts of tho country. According , to him, work, and indeed most things, were merely illusions. Perhaps the most surprising 'tiling about this surprising old man was his parting words to me, a quotation from the "Eubaiyat" of Omar Khayyam: Ah, make the most of what wg yet may spend, Before we, too, into the dust descend, Dust unto dust, and under dust to lie. Sans wine, sans song, sans singer, and—sans end.

A Day's Balance. Just before dark I met two youths carrying swags and making their way towards Tc Kuiti. They advised me to conic back with them, as there was no chance of getting food or lodging from any of the farmers nearby. Furthermore, one of these- youthful ewaggere informed me that ho and his mate were going to obtain shelter and food in Te Kuiti, even though it meant smashing the window of the police station in the process. However, I do not think they had to adopt those drastic measures. Eventually I found an " empty whare, and gathering some dried fern, managed to make myself a fairly comfortable bed. Before coing to sleep I ran over the events of the clay, and found that I had travelled about one hundred and thirty miles, mostly bv car. I was half-a-crown richer than in the morning. I had met an old blacksmith who was a gentleman, and who read, and understood, the works of Henry George. I ■had talked with a "professional" swagger who quoted Omar. I had met an English tourist who was also a gentleman, and I had conversed with two young Communists in the making. What the morrow would bring forth 1 did not know, but, like the poetical old swag>ger, I was content to leave it to Omar: Unborn to-morrow and dead yesterday, Why fre£,about tkera if to-day be sweet?