CASUAL RAMBLINGS.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXV, Issue 9164, 20 September 1888, Page 6

CASUAL RAMBLINGS.

[Bt A. TRAMP, ESQ.]

[FKOM THE AUCKLAND WEEKLY NEWS.,

WAIWERA.

All the life and gaiety, bustle and business has departed from Waiwera. Its batjie unsought, its lawn a blank, its avenue a solitude. No longer is it the fashion for the upper ten of Auckland, attended by their sons and daughters and their sisters and their cousins and their aunts, to retire from the dust, tho smoke, and the smells of the city, aud seek health and pleasure at the medicinal waters of Waiwera. The elite have retrenched Waiwera, and the gilded globe-trotter has turned his footsteps in other directions.

Tho arrival of Mr. Boomerang and myself caused quite a sensation in Waiwera— six months had elapsed since a traveller on horseback dazzled the eyes of its inhabitants—and no end of attention was lavished upon us. Boomerang had the stable and «. groom all to himself; I was accommodated with a spacious chamber and a double bed that in the heyday of Waiwera's prosperity was reserved for married couples of high degree. Contrast this with the day a when hir Julius Vogel held his court there, when even so distinguished a personage as" A. Tramp, Esq.," had to make a noise to get noticed—they slung me into an outhouse. The healthgiving properties of the baths are the same to-day as ever they were—there is no change in the springs. It is not claimed they' will heal all the ills from which humanity suffers, but numerous cases of remarkable cures are recorded to tho credit of the Waiwera hot springs. To them Sir Julius Vogel attributes the partial recovery of the use cf his understandings. The latest instance of complete cure is that of Mr. William Cruickshank, who was suffering from rheumatism in the head, brain fever, or something of that sort; anyhow, a hopeless case. I had the pleasure of meeting William at Waiwera, and his many friends will be glad to know that ho is quite up to his old form, and is in a perfect state of health. The Waiwera property is now in the Melbourne market, where the proprietors are endeavouring to effect a sale or tloat it into a company. Should their negotiations be successful, brigrht days may again dawn on Waiwera. Tho fashion here has somewhat changed, and besides the people of Auckland have less money to spend on holiday excursions. But no doubt Waiwera will some day renew, and even surpass, its former brilliancy. PUHOI. Leaving Waiwera, we scrambled and struggled through the streak of mud the authorities call a main road till we came to Puhoi. This pretty little settlement is peopled by Sclavs from Austria of the R.C. persuasion. They say the land is good, and they are satisfied with it. After the bleak and dreary wastes of tho Wade, it was quite a relief to gaze upon the small green paddocks of Puhoi. Two stores, a boarding-house, and an old-fashioned pub constitute the business portion of the settlement. FARMER WILSON. Between Puhoi and Warkworth there is a slight improvement in the road—that is to say, it improves in places. In the summer time I dare say this is a very pleasant drive ; at this season of the year, there are few opportunities for admiring the scenery. If you allow your thoughts to wander from the road, you may suodenly find yourself in a hole, heels up. A few miles from Warkworth the appearance of a snug, trim, well-cultivaten farm attracted my attention, and I stopped to look it over— from the roa.d. The farmer was at the plough, and two women were working in the beld. "Scotch, for a dollar," I muttered. Boomerang nodded, and then hung his head over tbe gate to think I sat on his back, lit an " Old General" cigarette—l always patronise local industry—and wondered what it cost, the farmer in bonedust. The farmer saw us, stopped his plough, and came over to have a nearer view of the apparition. " It's a braw day," says he. " Yes," quoth I; " but your roads are no sae braw, nor your land either, I'm thinking." " What's the matter wi' the land ?"

" What I mean is, I don't think ifc is particularly rich." " Well, no," he replied ; "it's just poor enough to keep us always busy; and it takes a power of bonedust." " I fancy that is the trouble with most of the land hereabouts."

" Yes ; you've got to put intil 't before you can take it out; and prices are so low now that farming don't pay." "Oh, bub things are better than they were. Beef and mutton have improved, and produce generally is fetching a better price. Potatoes are worth £4 a ton ; that ought to pay." "Yes, but that's an exceptional price; and the market is a long way off; and just look at the roads. Our members are not the right class of men. They have their own little axes to grind, and the larger axe of the constituency never «ees the stone. Our roads are no roads at all."

" I can sympathise with you very much ; so can my friend Boomerang here. Just look at him—' glaur' (Scotch for mud) from the tip of his ears to the point of his tail; in fact, his beautiful nether appendage is a mere mud swab. I agree that your members are not the right class of men. ' The neglected North' has ever been a sufferer from political nincompoopery. Mr. Moat is too modest to help you out of the mud. Hobbs has many hymns, and more prayers ; but they do not avail much in road making. I spea.k from experience—l have said a good few since I started on this journey. Mr. Monk is a righteous man ; he might be of more service praying for a shower of road metal than stuck in Parliament. Your much 'neglected North,' always easily satisfied, and glad to receive with gratitude and numbleness the casual dole of a yard or two of motal, obtained through the honest labours of its representatives, now resigns itself to retrenchment, and meekly bows at the awful roar. Southern provinces, not content with the network of roads and railroads secured to them by the intrigues and logrolling of their members, still clamour for more, and, what is more, will get ifc. The Manawatu Gorge, for instance, will euable the traveller from Napier or New Plymouth to Wellington to wrap his Mosgiel railway rug about him, and read his Weekly News or take a snooze while he journeys comfortably at the rate of 25 miles an hour. The man in the North must plod his weary 25 miles a day through puddled clay. Sometimes it is the consistency of porridge ; other times like badly-boiled pudding. You know the sorb I mean—stick-jaw stuff— and, after a little fine weather, it becomes a honeycomb of terra-cotta—hard baked. The roar for retrenchment in the South is a sentiment; in the North it is a stern reality. I wish I was in the South now."

" Well, no one bub a lunatic would attempt to ride through the North at this time of year; but who may you be ? I do believe you are that chap, the ' Tramp,' who writes in the Weekly News." " Right you are, sir, barring the question of lunacy ; that fits those wno sent me— I'm the gentleman. You've hit it first time ; there's my card." The farmer smiled, and said, " I'm hanged if I did not think so, when I saw you and the horse looking over the fence, and I came across to have a good look at you. Is this Musket ? He's no' a beauty." " No ; that is Boomerang, the pride of the New Zealand Herald and Weekly News Office; and, if you think you have anything uglier, I don't mind putting five shillings on the fcotalisator. But how did you come to guess who we were ?" "The paper came last night, and I was reading your trip to Tauranga ; perhaps it was that pub it in my head. I see there are some good-looking girls in that bown." ." I really forget; did I eay there were ? If so, it is correct." " Yes; you are alw ,-> good to the women folks, and I like you for it. I hope you will stir those members up about our roads."

" I can stir them up to some purpose, if the editor will allow me; but he has to be careful. Members are such touchy subjects that at the least unpalatable remark they have you up for breach of privilege or libel ; bhey can't bake a joke. May 1 know your name ?" " Yes ; they call nae Wilson." " Long here ?" " Thirty years."

"My ! Raise much wool ?" u Never owned a sheep in ray life." " Cattle and dairy farming, I suppose V " Yes, mostly." " What are you ploughing for ?" "Potatoes." "Plenty of grass? I notice a lot of that stuff about/ .

" Rat-tail. Yes, it is the best grass we have to stand the hot olimate."

" I have heard that it is good also for windy climates. Tho sheep and cattle can hold on to it till their teeth give way—the grass won't. You have a very nice farm, Mr. Wilson, and I highly commend your skill and industry. This will be as good as a first-class certificate of merit to you, for, although I can scarcely tell a cabbage from a crowbar, I am considered a great authority on farms." The farmer said, " Where is Waiuku?"

I levered Boomerang's head off the fence, and bade the farmer good-bye. "Farmer Wilson," as he is called, to distinguish him from the other Wilsons who are not farmers, is a real farmer—l saw it at a glance—and a very successful one. He is the leading agriculturist of the district, and is looked up to with respect and affection by his neighbours. Adjoining Farmer Wilson's are several other small and well-tilled farms, which I had not time to visit. It is very unpleasant travelling after dark in tho North.

Approaching the spot where I instinctively felt Warkworth must be located, I began to keep a look-out for something resembling that important township. A fow homesteads were in view, but standing too far apart to be considered a town, and I began to fe.tr that I had either lost my latitude and longitude, or that the capital of Mahurangi had been swallowed up in an earthquake. A friendly signboard at length gave me the cue, and pointed the way to Warkworth ; main roads and cattle or gum tracks are eo very much alike that it is almost impossible for the stranger to distinguish which is which. To prevent frequent inquests on lost travellers giving a bad name to the North, the Public Works Department has munificently supplied finger-posts—a consideration for which I am truly thankful. Turning in the direction indicated, we discovered Warkworth, and walked into its famous hotel, kept by Brother Such.