"IN THE WRONG BOX."

New Zealander, Volume XIX, Issue 1825, 23 March 1863, Page 3

"IN THE WRONG BOX."

To the Editor of the Nbw-Ze aland er. Sir, —I know no meaner person than he who vauntingly tries to make fun at the expense of his country or countrymen for his own amusement or for that of others. Although some incidents cannot be properly related without in some measure exhibiting the aboriginal state of the inhabitants, no country can justly, I believe, exult in its original civilization over another. The comparative rude habits of living to be met with half a century past in Ireland, Scotland, and the islands surrounding, will perhaps even compare favorably with that of England at no distant period, as vestiges remaining to the present day will show It is not very remote when chimneys were first used in England, and to compare the household furniture of Elizabethian style to that of the present day is simply ridiculous, when it is said that good English squires who were particular to attend to their personal comforts, had the substantial luxury of a junk of wood for a pillow. There is a charm about that rude simplicity when hospitable halls were littered with rushes, and even the cattle shared the same roof with their owners.

But my object is not to raise the vexed question of nationalities, or make reflection on any' English ftiends (even on Mr. Colenso himself, of anti-Scotch predilections), who are no doubt far in advance ot the other liortion of the three kingdoms; and if they are, it is no reason why they' should despise their less fortunate neighbours ,more than that part of the strand next the sea should boast of its being covered by the flood-tide before the land wash, or that a person should triumph over the fact that he was born before another, —an affair over which he had no control. My' humble opinion is that all sectione of the earth in rotation will be blessed with the refining influences ol civilization, and that those who are now considered most in advance, will be looked upon hereafter as in league with barbarity in their institutions and laws when compared to what they will attain to. And it is the duty of every man, small or large be bis sphere, to encourage and promote the introduction of good laws and institutions, and to frown on maladministration of every kind: for we have heard that once on a time the frowns of a slave advanced the premier of a hundred and twentv seven provinces to a very lofty gallows. If such were the fate of a man high in power in the dark ages or the world for spite to the best of citizens, although av.it ifillWi what "bonCB elmi4l t ( H ‘■ubpidiipte «loiseti iq t “ |l“i-

have in the face of an enlightened community in the 19th century to stun d it long, when actuated by the same spirit with the above ancient and notable personage? The world, thank God. i> all the time revolving, and New Zealand eight years ago is not New Zealand of to-dav; and it ill suits him who should be the father of a district to compliment a community of hundreds of families, admitted on all hands the best colonists ever came into the country as a nest of “ dirh/ low thieves.” Thank you, Mr. ’Resident Magistrate, they don’t trouble you, anditis seldom you eau/eu»i‘ on troubling them, but when you can you will! But I am, Mr. Editor, going beyond my depth in moralising on the above abstruse yet interesting subject, which ill comports with the rather ludicrous though true story. The above has been intended as an apologctical introduction to my countrymen, some of whom 1 know will feel an interest in the tale, though ill suited for Saxon tastes. And to begin I may inform my readers that I was “ raised ” in the Highlands ot Scotland, as my name will indicate as well as my English. Many persons there who lives on the sea coast, in order to help a subsistence, used to go to the rocks projecting into the deep water to fish. To these shore fishing resorts, when a little urchin, 1 often went unknown to ray watchful parents, and as often as I went without a o-uardian my flesh suffered for it. I thought that was the onlv fault with the kelt. How easily a summary castigation was administered, for my father had nothing to do but take an “ Irish, reef ” in my rear, and in less than two twos I went through the hot ordeal of the correcting switch. Now, Mr. Editor, you may he an Irishman for anything I know or care, or in any case you may not know what an “ Irish reef ” is, so, en ■passant I will tell you that there are three “ reefs,” an English, a Scotch, and an Irishman’s reef. The first, when in a gale, takes in a reef by lowering his sail, so that the wind will pass over it; the Scotchman makes a hole in the centre of the sail so that tfie superabundant wind passes through it; but Paddy hoists up the sail so as the blow or rather the blunt will pass under it, which is the “ Irish reef.” To resume my story of the rock-fishing that we called in Celtic phrase ‘ Cragach’—great varieties of fish were caught, such as snibhun or cuidig, rockcod, haddock, and at rare times a fish we called the “ doling.” meaning blind fish. The name in English I believe is catfish, which is said to live for nine days in dry peat dust—(cuiln’mhoainc) —I suppose to be like its counterpart on the land with “ nine lives.” In appearance it is something similar to a dogfish, only wanting the horns on the back. It is ugly and forbidding, resembling the toad in formation of head and the leathery skin.

However a very thrifty Highlander who regularly attended the rock-fishing was in the habit of filling his creel in the peat stack on his way to the fishing, so as to have it ready at hand to shoulder on his return from the rock in the twilight, as there is some trouble and art required in filling a creel properly with peat. It is first filled with the broken parts until within a few inches of the brim, then on the top of that the peats are put in standing like bricks packed on end, and finished with a tight key like the arch of a bridge, so that the creel takes much more than its full, and requires as much care in stowing as the deck-load of a ship, and never required more skill in stowing than the night in view, as the sequel will show. Notwithstanding the Highlander being a very thrifty man, and one that always tried to kill two birds with one stone, yet he had a great horror of fairies and witches, as the country was then abounding in both, and everybody believed in their existence, except the parish minister, who would loose his stipend and church if one witch were found in his parish. Our hero had also a great dread of ghosts, apparitions, hobgoblins, and of all the “ bocan” tribe, so that he was seldom caught outside his dwelling after the “ gloaming.” On this particular occasion ho was unusually late when he shouldered the creel, which he found as he left it. He had not gone far when to his wonder and amazement, something made a very brisk rattle inside of his load —almost paralysing him. The night was now closing in, and he a full mile from home. The bate possibility of having something unearthly not only near him, but on his back, made his hair stand on end, and the perspiration to start from every pore, but before he had much time to think, there was another twist and tumble in the peat creel, leaving no doubt on his mind (if he had any mind left him) that there was something to be dreaded there, perhaps no less a personage than the great enemy of mankind himself in the shape of a monkey ; he dared not throw the creel off him for fear the contempt would rise ten thoisand demons from the creel in bore to his certain destruction, and carry him soul and bady to that country where all the inhabitants were “ bocans or hobgoblins.” It fails me, Mr. Editor, in your meagre language, to portray the terror of this unfortunate wight, and the attempt is a mere contortion of the original, but, however, he ran and ran with all his might, (Jarve stimulant virum), as for dear life, and when his strength, which was not small, would be failing him, the demon would give a rattle and a rattle, which- would increase his speed but not his fear, for that was at its altissimo pitch already. However our hero by dint of superhuman strength kept up his pace, and the first ray of hope he had, however dim, was on remembering of Tam O’Shanter and they-stone of the bridge,-notwithstanding Maggie by that time not having a tail to shake. Our hero thought if he once passed the portals of his dwelling that lie was safe from all the “ bocans” afloat that night, but he was afraid of even thinking of his\prospect of safety for fear his tormentors might divert it otherwise. Happily he was at last his own door, and when about makingone spring to enter his house the demon, as it were a last struggle, made a tremendous rattle—for apprehension magnifies sound as well as increases terror. Just when in the act of making one spring to enter the house, as I said, the creel gave a rattle, and in the leap he threw the creel, demons, peats, and all off him outside.—screeching out at the top of his voice for marcy— s'fad lean u rum , meaning I have put up with you too long. Now although he felt comparatively safe and much relieved, his mind, being ill at ease, especially his wife and family when lie told them he had carried the devil in the creel from the peat stack until he threw him off at the door, you may depend upon it they passed a restless night, believing if the creel was not reduced to ashes it would fly away with its possessor. But when broad daylight came our hero and his family secured themselves from harm by a charm—on going out, behold the creel was there where he threw it off laying on its side safe and sound, and on unpacking or discharging the creel of its contents, they found the “ bocan” imbedded in the centre of it still alive; —but what do you, Mr. Editor, think it was?—nothing less than an ugly catfish, (dallag), which some very ingenious boys put into the creel in she interval of filling and taking it away to the great amusement of many people, and to the disgust, anger, and detriment of him who had to bear with the “ dallag” raid all connected with it.

It may be very amusing to a government to bo keeping a Resident Magistrate in a district in whom the people have no faith, and who is as much in the “wrong box” as the catfish was out of place in the Highlandman’s peat creel. Yes, costing the country an enormous sum of money without apparently anything to do. When a solitary case arises between a pakeha and a native, which is really a god-send to keep up appearances, and kill ennui, as all the dogs of the neighbours are shot, nothing else to do—unless kept there purposely on the necks (in the creel) of a community who may have much to do to extract from the stubborn fern-land food enough to keep soul and body together, without being harrassed by what, in other countries would be termed visionary or ideal actions, and obtaining a judgment against an unoffending individual by Maori evidence, which may be termed nothing better than garbage under a semblance of English law—which has been of late a systematic course, as they have found out that by combining together they can easily obtain their aim however vague; in fact trained to it intuitively by those who are paid to administer sound and wholesome laws between both races. An attempt has been latterly made to transfer the catfish from the superstitious Highlandman’s creel to the “ sueens” of the peripatetic Paddy “ an officer of the Crown” himself also. But are British subjects like slaves or serfs to submit to men altogether unfit for the office, who can, in order to propitiate the government, only try to give judgment in favour of evident falsehood in the face of truth ; and of a bench of respectable justices in favour of a rascally band, who could swear to anything and everything to gain money. People cannot stand it any longer. Pafienlica tape Iresa fit furor. If what I have seen is a fair sample of the Resident Magistrates of New Zealand, I have no hesitation to pronounce them the worst enemies of the country —a pestraining an innocent race to mischief. Help, O Hercules, and direct some cleansing river through our Augean stable to carry away the ordure (and of course the stench) accumulated by these and other animals, and for the benefit of the many, O mighty Jupiter, hasten the day when they will only be remembered in approbation of the patience of the first settlers who suffered their insolence. Nil McNhiil. New Zealand, February, 1803.