A BUSH FIRE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXVII, Issue 8162, 25 January 1890, Page 2 (Supplement)

A BUSH FIRE.

HOW THE NEW ZEALAND SETTLER CLEARS HIS LAND. Under the above title, and signed "Doctor," the Sheffield Weekly Telegraph has the' following story :— Where tho forest stood as it had done for ages, and among its great drooping, black-stemmed tree ferns, flitted tho birds with metallic plumage and tufts of white down at their throats; where huge vines twisted themselves upwards among tho pine branches, to fall in clusters of white star-blossoms high among the dark green foliago; where, rising from the damp ground, trading mosses of delicate texture entwined themselves around huge boles of trees already concealed by dainty ferns of varied patterns; where the proud palms, with stiff, upstanding, many-fingeied foliage, added year by year new rings to their stems as old leaves dropped from thoir places ; where all was still save for the sweet tones of tho honeyeating songsters, the sighing of the wind through the whispering pines, and the hum of myriads of busy insects ; where all was peace came the woodman with his axe and hook, Hashing and hewing through vines and tree stems, laying in tangled heaps scrub and fern and pine, yet passing by the giants of the forest, knowing their hugo boles would resist the tire and encumber the ground. And when ho had passed tho leaves withered and scorched beneath tho tierce sun until the breeze shook them from the branches and they rattled down and piled themselves on tho ground ; the bark, too, 'cracked and peeled in groat Hakes from the white trunks, and even the timber split now and again with a sharp report that sent the little black rata scampering away to their burrows. The swinging axe resounded 1.0 longer, and only the dry wind came by and drew away the little moisture left in the parched vegetation. At last the bushman returned on a summer's morning, when the liory sun had risen over the hills, and carried up the dew in shining wreaths among the branches of *<he troes still standing. He endeavoured with upstrctched hand to determine the direction of the gentlo air, then knelt among the crackling brushwood on tho edge of the clearing. As he rose again a thin cloud of smoke curled lazily upward ; he moved back, the smoke grew dense, and a red tongue of fire shot out from among its blackness; the breeze came fresher along the valley, and for a moment the smoke sank to the ground and the tire died away. In an instant there was a rushing through the branches as though a wild animal had forced his way ; a great column of smoke rose upward, and while above the daylight turned it to silver, below it grew golden with the fast increasing blaze. On rushed the lire, the sky was darkened, the crackling became a long, dull roar, as of a huge cataract. Yellow flames curled and twisted and writhed and leaped, now forward through the fallen branches, now catching to some swinging vine, climbing upwards, hissing, shrieking, screaming, spluttering through the green leaves, now creeping silently and stealthily along the ground to burst afresh into a great Hare. Away, before the wind which blew with aew force, as though rejoicing in the destruction, flow the tire, spreading out on either side ; away, over many broad acres, till it reached the steep hillside, rushing up and rolling heavy clouds before it from which dropped burning leaves carried up a hundred feet by the heated air. With a crash a monster tree fell, burnt through at the roots, which had withstood the shock of many a storm ; from the place where he fell the sparks flew up and lost themselves in pitchy darkness. Other trees followed, hurling their massive limbs headlong down the steep. The frightened birds wheeled round in ever lessening circles, till, stupefied by tho fumes, and overpowered by the intense heat, they fell to perish in the ruins of their former peaceful home. Never again will the valleys echo with rich notes at eventide such as they were wont to sing, for their fellows who escaped lied back from the clearing and the new home of man, away to the forest depths whose silence is still undisturbed by the sound of human voices ; and there this remnant may live out its few short years, till at last they, too, perish in the flames and leave but a name.

Along the rough bush track a man came with unsteady steps. He was but a young man, yet on his face were stamped deeply the lines of trouble and intemperance. He saw the tire, but heeded not, and pushed his way on through the pungent smoke. He stumbled and foil among the tall waving grasses. One effort he made to riso, bur, sank back again, his brain reeling under the influence of rank spirit and the heated air, and there, as the flumes drew ever nearer, he slumbered.

Dreams of his childhood floated before him ; he wandered again through the long green fields and over the open moorlands with happly playmates ; he saw the long forgotten faces of schoolfellows, and led them in their games ; he began his manhood's life again full of hope and confidence, and as dark shadows fed across his way there siione through all one loving face, tear-stained, but ever-pat. ; and, as in his dream he gaze I on his h-vely vision, his chest rose and fell uneasily, tears coursed down his rough, bronzed cheeks, and his lips vainly strove to call his mother to ask her forgiveness. The cruel, relentless flames crept nearer till they reached the sleeper, but he slept on, his weary wandering was ended, his life fled away with the curling smoke. His sad fate was never known ; no kind friend came to search for and mark his last restingplace ; yet there was one grown old with watching and waiting thousands of miles across the sea, watching for her boy who would never return, wailing for news that would never arrive. Who shall say that her fond prayers were never answered, that she will never in the great hereafter meet her child in happiness ? The day wore on ; the sun, which at midday could scarcely pierce the heavy darkness, shone with a fitful and lurid glow down in the west. The lire had reached the green forest, which checked its further progress, but the ground was still strewn with burning logs. As night fell the valley was lib with thousands of gleaming torches, and appeared, from the distance, as a great city with spires and towers, tall chimneys, and glowing furnaces, long streets, and brightlit houses. For many days the great upstanding trunks burnt, till the rain came; and now they lift their bare and blackened arms against the sky, making the country look wild and desolate. Here now the grass grows thick and high from the ashes, sheep graze quietly as they wander among the charred stumps and logs. A little house and garden stand on the rising ground. Man has bent nature to his will, and the primaeval forest has given place to rich meadows.