CANTERBURY SCENES.

Press, Volume XLVI, Issue 7421, 21 September 1889, Page 6

CANTERBURY SCENES.

BY THB "WAXBX&AL. n Winter is winter amongst the Malvern HUls, and when rain is t ailing on th© hous-es and streets of Chrfstehorch. snow is whitening the slopes ™_* nmml _,l°* Golgotha, Flagpole, Mount Misery, «*W Peaks, and all the other enrlonsly name* hills that form the Mal»«n _fj»«». Winter is winter there, and are far apart; but neither bad distances disturb the uplander*. nor affec* their hospitality: so I was not surprised when one evening.my host suggested tha we should visit our nearest neighbours. Our nearest neighbours lived about tw 0 miles further down the valley, and the ' track wound round abigspur, then followed the creek across the flat; but there was a short cut another way and we went by the short cut. The night was dark an » keen frost had set in. My host ledth 8 way down a gully, crossed a deep Uttl« creek five times, and brought up against seemingly perpendicular wall of snow, had followed him thus far in perfect con fidence, but when he advised tbat we should keep well up the hill to avoid some dangerous place, I began to think there was some excitement in visltifcghiil_-•»«" hours on a dark winter's night. I had been armed with a stout stave about five feelong, and began to find out Its use, for with it I felt the banks of the creek, and when we began to ascend the hill It save mc many a tumble. The hill was not nearly so high or so steep as it appeareo when first I saw it loom out of the dark ness; but the snow that covered it war frozen, and one either sank into it Or> slipped down with it in a ™"»- e J calculated to warm one on the coldest o Di » Keep higher up," said my host. " There

is a precipice close by, and if you W over you won't pay a visit to-night." I struggled desperately through the enow to reach a higher altitude, and was en couraged to proceed by hearing a voice ahead say, , •• There's a bad slip just here, look out for it." I did look out for it and saw it eloping into a dark hollow from my feet. In a few minutes we reached the top* and immediately dipped downlntoagUlly made another ascent, walked along a hill Side and saw darkness beneath us. and at struck a broad, gradually sloping spur, down which we walked smartly not at all discouraged by knowing there was a bog in an undefined place. Flagpole loomed white and massive above Uβ on our left, a great star ehoae on the snowy dome of Mount Misery; the air wa3 pare and sharp, and the walk down the spur was exhilarating. Suddenly there was a wild barkinj? oi dogs, a rattle oi chains, and five great collies raved and fumed as if they would tear us to pieces, and were only withheld by their chains. If they had been loose they would have fawned on us and wagged their tails as a welcome. We had reached ]t J out nearest neighbour v—a bachelor house-' hold—and in a minute or two we were seated by a great blazing fire and deriding the question whether we would take whiskey'" hot or cold." In the room where we were seated, Lady Barker had probably written out the best notes for that c harming little book of her's on New Zealand, and Sir Charles Mapier Broome had lounged after a day's hard work on the hills. Our neighbours, stand In the foremost rank? of Canter, bury settlers, their name wae well known when Christchurch was hard to find, and their lives have been part of the real history of the province—the history oi man's settlement and cultivation of the land. I listen to an account of pig sticking on the plains, of sport each as one only finds in the Punjaub now, and envy the wild gallops over the unf enced plain, the eight of the wild boara amidst the yellow tussock grass, and the grasp of the lons bamboo handled spear. Then the eon. versation turns to stories of snow-storms and buried flocks. Only two years ago oujr neighbours lost 1200 sheep in one storm; and they can remember digging sheep pat of deep drifts away down on the plain 9 where now. even four inches of snow/is a phenomenon. They were not amongst the bills then or the picture of such a storm there would have been forthcoming and worth relating* but when I heard of men riding on the surface of the snow over fences and gullies, held twenty or thirty feet above the ground in places by the firm white powder, I became again impressed with the fact that winter is winter amidst the Malvera HiHs; but what must it be in the higher ranges away back? Snow twenty feet deep in the lower gullies, and men struggling over It In search of buried sheep would make a nood picture; but .the storm would make a better one, with the mountain sheep gathered to leeward of some high saddle, amidst gaunt bare rocks and tufts of waving snowgrass. The sky black as night, the hills around half hidden with driving snow, and the great flakes pouring over the saddle and falling thick and fast on the helpleß3 t frightened sheep. Sheep in large nana! bers will live more than a week beneath the snow, their warmth melts a small hole through the covering mass which i? the only guide to the searchers after

lost flocks. Small mobs of sheep have been known to lire there three weeks beneath the snow and under favourable circumstances even loDger than that. There is something interesting in hill lore, and one can be delighted wlvh pictures of strings of horses treading path ways through the snow to relieve from their prisons on high ground. I wiej, somebody would depict the freshness and sweetness of Canterbury's chief pastoral countries, and write an ode on the delicate flavour of merino mutton, fattened'on young tussock shoots and made tender by exposure to the frosty air. The Malvern Bills then might send legs and quarter s for the royal tables of Europe.and epicures would anticipate New Zealand mutton ex Aorangi, instead of sheep from the salt marshes of Russia. Cannot some lecturer also demonstrate the difference between 1 English mutton, built up from theelements of city sewage, dye water, rotten bones and putrid straw, and New Zealand mud ton built up from sweet native grass, mountain breezes, and sparkling water! We " took it hot," listened to stories Of hill life and adventures, then followed our own tracks through the snow back again, carefully avoiding both the precipice and the slip. The next day we enjoyed a curious phenomenon. Snow, like frozen mist, fell from an awfully calm sky. It powdered the:thread«like blades of the tussock grass with minnte diamonds, whitened the slenderest twigs of the willows by the creek, covered the needles of the dark pine trees and even clung to the thorns of the gooseberry bushes in the kitchen garden. Everything was covered with its soft whiteness, the air was fall of it as if with a frozen fog. All day it fell, and ah night, silently, steadfastly, beautifully. When morning came again the sun shone on a white world, the bills around were ■ smooth as polished alabaster, not a single break in their whiteness. The sun ehon e out of a blue cloudless sky, and it* radianc e was reflected from the spurs and valleys that sloped towards it with such brilliance that human eyes could scarcely look on it. Then after that calm bright day a keen frost set in, the water in the bath and in the ewers was frozen, th e ground was bard as iron and rang like a bell with the stamping of horses waiting for their feed. I thought the bitter cold might h%ve driven wild pigsfa m the high country to some sheltered vaiieys near, so I took the rifle and went out for a solitary bunt. I climbed the spur that rises from the kitchen garden and saw what a wonderful

mamm* »lope m»kee in » hiU eoqntoj. Tlie MU eldje thfct faces the «ua the enow wUI melt it& If eooner. and ithe fcheep thrive better on it "than on a face that elopes even one degree from the eun. I believe that the difference In value as sheep country between a piece of country facing the eun at an angle of 46 degrees and another piece sloping from it at the same angle Iβ greater than the difference between a hill summit and ibe base. In epltue of the .deep snow, the air on the elope I was climbing seemed as mild and balmy as a spring breeze. The snow diamonds were melting from the long grass, gatherin into tremulous scleaming drops of water and falling to the ground In miniature showers. At 2.000 ft above sea level, with the snow knee deep around mc, I couia i have felt comfortable in the lightest o •ummer garb, so warm was the fJr.ijM yet so light and invigorating was It tnat every breath seemed like a refreshing draught. I was sitting on a rock to admire the seenehof wintry hills, when I heard an anmistakable grunt, and saw six pigs ploughing. through the snow in a guuy below mc. I hurried to head them, but they were too quick, and before I got within rifle shot they had remehea a spur and were out of sight. I followed their tracks for two or three miles, and then gave up the chase. Pig ß can travel faster than men in a hill country, and It woe easier to watch the changeful scene than follow gaunt porkers. 1 noticed that about 4 o'clock in the afternoon the sunlight left the main valleys and gathered on the hill tops, where it began to play strange illusive tricks with colouring and shade, painting the snow peaks with rosy hues, crimsoning the rugged spurs with lights that waved and twisted and turned co rapidly that one could not tell what colour a peak really was. A strange radiance filled the air even after the sunliebt bad left the highest ranges. It made the snowy hills shimmer ac the earth shimmers on a hot day—it made the crags and peaks look weird and ghostly. But this effect only lasted for a few moments ; then one cottld see the evening sky in all its beauty—coloured in broad bands of glowing reds, steely greens, and euch like hues as one sees in an opal or a piece o> mother of pearl. It Is the wintry twilightaniJL When the rich colours die away a pale bronze halo surrounds the mountain, and their peaks gleam like richly burnished brass, Then it is time for hunter or shepherd to descend towards the lower valleys and find shelter; for night on the bare bills is terrible In its coldness.