RECOLLECTIONS OF TWO GREAT COLONIAL POETS.

Bruce Herald, Volume VII, Issue 649, 13 November 1874, Page 3

RECOLLECTIONS OF TWO GREAT COLONIAL POETS.

The following amusing sketch is by '' Philip Henry," a clever contributor to the * Wairarapa Standard ' : —

The history of a nation or people is supposed to be incomplete without it recognises the poets which figure in it. We fear that Mr Yogel, in his Handbook of New Zealand, has overlooked this important fact, and that intending immigrants may be deterred from selecting i his Colony as their future home if left uuder the impression that the savage arts only are cultivated here.

Poets, however, BUch as they are, are plentiful amongst us, and there are but tew Colonists who have not come more or less in contact with one or two of these devoted beiugs, who dedicate their existence to expressing in indifferent rhymes, equally indifferent sentiments.

One of the first settlers with whom we became acquainted on our arrival in this Province was a poet. The name of James McTwaddle is not unknown to fame, having been more than once affixed in print to the produce of his muse. Reversing Josh Billiugs' maxim, Mr MeTwaddle resigned the occupation of chopping wood for the more congenial taste of manufacturing couplets. We recollect the thrill of emotion with which we first crossed the threshold of the bard and aaztd upou his inspired lineaments. He was an aged man, and was attired iv nondescript garments, with a head of matted hair, which appeared to have remained unkempt from his youth upwards. His home was peculiar, being built of rough slabs of wood, through the interatices of which glimpses of tbe surrounding scenery were easily attainable. The floor was also of rounded slabs, on which it was difficult to balance a seat, except in one corner, where they were smoother, and that was of course the poet's corner. The whole building had a kind of thoughtful slant, but when we understood that it had been constructed by the poet himself, we could easily comprehend that it Bhould differ from ordinary dwellings.

We stayed at his abode a night and found the bedchamber to which we were consigned consisted of two shelves,, the lower one of which formed the poet's dairy, and the upper one our bed. Before retiring to rest Mr McTwaddle sang to U3 two of his short poems, one was inscribed " To a lady whom I met with a fine bonnet," and was set to the tune of " Auld Robin Gray ;" the other was called " Will you come to Terawiti, bonnie lassie oh ?" and had a chorus.

The poet, weareiuformed, had recently published a volume of epic poems called " The cow's colloquy." It was supposed to represent the grave deliberations of tho poet's milch kine on human error as exemplified in the conduct of the local road board in letting road contracts. He had just made a successful tour round the neighborhood sell'ng copies of it at five shillings each. One young man, it was said, had objected to purchase a copy on the. ground that he could not read, but Mr MeT waddle overruled that objection, and persuaded him that it was even with that drawback well worth, the money to him. Another had said "go away McTwaddle, if I buy your book I'll become as tnad, as you are," but McTwaddle would not go away, and his victim at laßt in despair threw down half a sovereign and took two copies, remarking that he did not often resort to so expensive a method of lighting a fire. We purchased a copy ourselves, remarking that we would forwar4 jt £o Tennyson, believing that the 'perusal of- it WQIII4 peeve a gratification to him. But MeTwaddle assured us that heha r d already posted a copy to the Isle of Wight. The other great poßt of whom we would now speak, was a younger wav named

Gush, and at the time we knew him, earned an honeßt but precarious living by shingle- splitting. He :was. great in email odes and ballads. The first little poem of his which we read was a complimentary address to a young lady written in an album, in which were some remarkable sentiments, particularly in one verse, where be trusted that the maiden addressed would prove like the eternal hills, ever young and green. He once came to us to invite our opinion on a national ode which he had composed. 11 The Germans,'' said he, " have a word which signifies .'.I aco, a, Prussian,' and the idea occurred to me to write a poem beginning •lam a New Zealander.' " "I fancy, 1 ' i said he, modp.Btiy, "that it may spread all | through^NeW and become our I National ■?. lyric, inspiring our Colonial Syouths patriotic sentiments!" Then throwing his little head well back, expanding his little chesfc, and extending his little arms, Mr Grush reciied the first verae, " I am a New Zealander, I cherish the name. I am a IN ew Zealander, I'll guard its fame." We assured him that we thought it a Bplendid National Anthem, and that it would secure him a Colonial reputation. He said that he agreed with us, and that he intended to give up shingle splitting as not being a soul nourishing occupation, and adopt some profession which would be more congenial to a poet's nature. We subsequently learnt that he went into the wool-scouring and hide scraping busings*, and trusted that there he found that Btimulus to poetic effusion for which his soul longed. These recollections may be of value to the future historian of tne Colony. We da not presume to say thac either of the individuals to whom we have spoken was a bhakespeare cr a Milton, still they show that literature has noc entirely been without its prophets in these early stages of Wew Zealand's growth, and we trust that when* a record of the Colony, worthy of the name does appear, the names of McTwaddle and Crush may receive honorable mention.