A CHURCH AMID THE HILLS

Evening Star, Issue 20428, 8 March 1930, Page 2

A CHURCH AMID THE HILLS

PICTURESQUE NEW ZEALAND CHURCH FWritten bv E.M., for the ‘ Evening Star.’] It is not to be expected that our churches in New Zealand should possess such literary and historical associations as do those of older countries. In England, for instance, one is constantly coining across churches and cathedrals, the history of which extends back hundreds of years, and what an interest they sometimes possess for the student, the sightseer, and tho antiquarian I Take, for example, the parish church at Nuneaton, in Warwickshire, of which wo have a recollection. For one thing, it is interesting because it is the Milby Church in George Eliot’s story of ‘ Janet’s Repentance.’ Then another _ feature of interest is that the curfew is still rung there throughout the year. You observe a little niche in one of its sandstone walls. In olden times it wa’s a belief amongst mothers in the town that if they walked around the church seven times, their children would not catch cold. To make sure that they walked the prescribed number of times, they would pick up seven stones, and deposit one in this niche at the conclusion of each' circuit. On another of the sandstone walls of th© church are many pronounced grooves. In the bajitle of Bosworth Field, fought nearby, the local troops sided with Henry Tudor, and these grooves indicate places where they sharpened their hattleaxes before marching to the front.

Then the churchyard is of interest. Here in a corner is the grave of the original of Lawyer Dempster in ‘ Janet’s Repentance.’ Nearby is a headstone to one Jane Greenwood 1 , where the epitaph is more quaintly expressed than usual:—“She was. What was she? All that a wife, a mother, and a sister ought to be. That she was.”

Of course, there are churches in New Zealand which possess outstanding associations. The Anglican church at Russell, North Auckland, and St, Mary’s Church, New Plymouth are both linked up with stories of adventure during the troublesome times with the Maori. Then there is the unique Maori church at Ohinemutu, where Maori art has been wedded to that sense of _ beauty and refinement that customarily marks an Anglican place of worship. The result is a building displaying characteristics of the Native race, and chaste and harmonious to a degree. Recently we were privileged to visit a New Zealand church, which in respect to origin and setting may be said to be out of the ordinary. This was the Acland l chapel, situated on the Aclaud estate. Mount Peel, South Canterbury, which is one of the few private chapels in the ' dominion. We made the visit from Geraldine. The distance from this place to the Acland estate is twenty miles, but the modern motor makes the journey and back a pleasant afternoon spin. The road to the north stretches out straight and level in front of us until it seems to come to a point, in the far distance. The countryside, with its wealth of willows and poplars and may-trees in full blossom, reminds us of Warwickshire, but there is a distinctly New' Zealand touch in the countless number of sheep and lambs to he seen in the fields. Quite evidently the supply of Canterbury lamb is being well maintained. The road now inclines towards the hills that form the outskirts of the Southern Alps. These hills still retain vestiges of tho bush that once grew here luxuriantly. We are now at _ Peel Forest, from which much good tirnber lias been taken in the past. To-day this beautiful spot is a popular resort for campers. These campers, and the fanners in the district support a small township at Peel Forest. The road continues to wind inwards. We remember as wo speed along that it was on a sheep station in this district that Samuel Butler was once employed in the early days, and that somewhere in the mountain in front of ns is the site of the mystical city of Erewhon.

Five miles beyond the township of Peel Forest, _we reach the object of our visit—a little church set on a knoll at the foot of the hills, about it being what is not common in New Zealand, a churchyard. No other building could be seen anywhere. There it stood quiet, remote, sheltered by spruce and fir trees looking in its surroundings as if a bit of England had been transferred across the sea.

The history of the chapel may be told in a few words. In the early days, when the .run was far removed from any place of public worship, Mr Acland, proprietor, a man of deeply religious tendencies, and a “ good churchman,” conceived the idea of building a church on the estate for the benefit of himself, his family, and Ids employees. The date of the foundation stone tells us that the erection of the building was commenced in 1860. No city smoke and soot here to mar its appearance! /The little stone church is as unmarked by time as if it had been erected six, rather than sixty, years ago. In size the Acland chapel reminds us of Aukl Alloway Kirk of Burns and Tam o’ Shanter fame, but whereas the latter is a roofless ruin, the former is in excellent repair, and its surroundings aro carefully tendedThe key of the church door was suspended in a prominent position in the little porch, for visitors are invited to enter.

Inside the building wo found the usual features of the Anglican Church. Individual to' this church were, however, several tablets, which had been placed on the walls to perpetuate the memory of -members of the A eland family. But what caught and riveted the attention most, from a sightseer’s point of view, were the stained-glass windows, also erected as memorials. These were of great beauty, and permitted that “ dim religious light ” of which the poet speaks. The temptation was to linger, rather than to hurry forth, and we sat down in one of the pews, and for a few minutes al-„ lowed our imagination to wander into the past, picturing an occasion when the pioneer had occupied one of these pews, or other occasions on which tha little church had concerned itself with such, events as marriages, christenings, and funerals. The posies of fresh flowers on the altar served to link up the church with the present. We picked up an old Bible from one-of the pews, and words written therein, in faded brown ink, indicated an interesting story. Two hundred years ago an Englishman left portion of his estate to bo devoted to the purchase and dissemination of copies of the Scriptures. This particular copy had come into the hands of Mr Acland .who had taken his possession with him when he left his beloved Devon and emigrated to Now Zealand, some three-quarters of a century'ago. With few exceptions the graves in the little churchyard were thefee of members of the Aoland family, and of persons who had been employed on the estate. The pioneer 'himself is buried here, and the wording on the

headstone tells us that tie was boin in 1823, and died in 1903. ihe other graves attracted the attention. One was that of a woman who was the iirst while child born in Canterbury. Ihe other was that of a man who had been employed on the estate lor fortynine years. The kind of headstone most in evidence was a design representing a St. George's cross, perhaps because it had in it a reminder ol taroff “Merry England.” ■ Here in this peaceful churchyard, “far from the madding crowd, was travelv a place in which to linger and to reflect. On the fact, for instance, that almost every one of the headatones bore words that indicated a belief in the life hereafter! It is remarkable how the instinctive belief in fife after death is so prevalent the world over. There were some sounds to 'be heard in this remote churchyard, but they were sounds appropriate to the place. The wind sighed and soughed in the trees, blackbirds, thrushes, and other birds were making the enclosure resound with .their melody. From overhead came _ the _ noise of fluttering wings, as wild pigeons flew hither and thither, and ipingted with all was the occasional bleat of a shep on the hillside adjacent. It was with these sounds falling on our ears, and impressing themselves on onr memories, that we said farewell to .the little church amid the hills.