“Gumfield Hardships.”

Northland Age, Volume VIII, Issue 26, 16 February 1912, Page 5

“Gumfield Hardships.”

[By Te Fana.] “No I” sMd the greybeard, as he viewed the sun through the bottom of a glass, “I’m not enterin’ me hardships for ‘Dick’s’ ’arf a thick ’un at the Wbipap. show. Not but wot I’d like to relieve him of it, representin’ at it doot about twenty an’ a bit 0’ cheermeups. Thankee ; with a dash. Billum—that’s me dorg—an’ me forked it. over last night an’ cum to ther couoloosion that thsra would he too much publicity about ther competition. Name in the paper an’ blokes oomin’ round wantin’ yar ter shout for ’sm. No sir ! Never do me ! It’s as clear as soup, that I’d a got a win too. Hardships! Blimts! I’ve 'ad nothin’ else for moron ten years 1 F’rinstance. There was that bottle I was keepin’ for med’oin#; made sure of it by plantin’it in a sack o’gum. But some low down dago muster seen me, through ther winder, an’ wen I was 'avia a bit 0’ shut eye he shook the bloomin’ bottle. An’ I wakes up ter find ther sun tearin’ down, ther insids of ther whars liks a stokehole an’ ther nearest pub forty mile# away. Hardship! I don’t think Then there was the time I was mates with Kiwi Tara. Fer a Native ’e was a good wovkin’ bloke an’ ther only fault I found with ’im was that ’a dident wash enough. ’E’d buy a pair 0’ dungaraet and wen ’e took ’em off at ther end o’ six months they’d stand up by themselves, ’l' was a great •port and uster tork about a oove sailed Tatts wot sold tickets on racehorses or something like that. ’E got on me nerves at last, and ter keep ’im quiet fer a bit I went ’arves in one of those tickets. Never thought no more about it till on# day ’e comes tip with a bit o’ graen paper in ’is ’and. ‘ E Tama,’ ’e says, ‘ you see te numa, one t’ree one t’ree; py corry ! I liirkim te heavy question, eh p Kapai you stickum en te wail.’ Every day after that I’d look at the 1313 an’ think about the time I’d ’ave if we struok a win. First prize was £SOOO an’ I’d picture meseif payin’ baok ther quid I owed Snorky Smith, buyin’ a bottle 0’ soent fer ther Maori girl at ther pah, an’ goin’ down ter Aucklan’ in ther saloon an’ eatln’ fish with a fork like a bloomin’ torf. I’d ’ave no end of a time.

“ Kiwi comes baok from Mangonui one night, wither crayfish an’ a piece 0’ paper printed all over with numbers an’ names 0’ racehorses. His eyes were bulgin’; an’ no wonder, fer there at ther bottom o’ ther list was 1 Ther winner o’ ther first prize £SOOO in ther Melbourne Cup sweepstake was Mr, Kiwi Tara, No. 1313.’ What’s that yer say p Not much of a hardship. No! But, blimet! I woke up !”

And a thin ray of sunlight glinted upon a falling tsar.