"NEW CHUM" IN NEW ZEALAND.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XL, Issue 12419, 14 November 1903, Page 5 (Supplement)

"NEW CHUM" IN NEW ZEALAND.

*J>. .■' HIS "EXPERIENCES AS AN EMIGRANT." SOME WORDS OP WISDOM. [FROM CUR OV?N CORRESPONDENTS.] London, October 2. 'A bather entertaining article is published in one of the London daily papers this week, over the initials "L.5.M.," headed "My Experience as an Emigrant—The Hardships of a New Chum." It is written with a good deal or intelligence, and with a keen appreciation oi the position in which a London clerk finds himself when he arrives on a New Zealand farm expecting employment as a " hand." lie begins with the very true and just remark that " between emigration as we imagine it and emigration as it actually is there is a vast difference." That is most true! And so are the remarks which follow. The writer says: —

"It is possible that you are thinking of migrating to Australia or New Zealand, with the laudable desire of 'bettering' yourself, as it is called, and perhaps, like many hundreds of others who go to the colonies, you are under the impression that it is Hierely a question of getting there. " li you are at present a clerk, or engage'! in some indoor occupation, your mind probably dwells on the joys of an openair life, and you have a conviction that you were not intended for the humdrum li;s of an office. Although your capital may be a small one, or even if you havo none, you are in no wise discouraged, because you have been told or have read that von can easily get a situation on a farm, and, by saving your earnings, can eventually purchase land of your own. If you are not particularly strong, and have never been used to doing any sustained manual work, you nevertheless imagine that in the colonies you could engage in all the toils of agriculture with enjoyment. "St, did I, until one awful day when I was introduced to a cow on the understanding that I. was to obtain from her a certain quantify of milk. Our interview was a short one, but brisk, and it was then borne in one me that even the milking of cows needs an apprenticeship. I had been in New Zealand for about a fortnight, and this was a third farm at which I had tried to get taken on, but my ignorance was against me every time. "One farmer told me that the babe unborn knew as much about farming as I did. " ' The worst of all you new chums,' he said, 'is that you come out here, where you are not wanted, and expect us to receive you with open arms. Not only that, but you think you are going to get good waives. Why. my son there, who is only fourteen, knows a darn sight more than you do!' "It was only too true. The boy had not only finished off my coiy, but I bad seen him afterwards harness a horse to a cart with an ease that bespoke familiarity." Nor were the anticipations of " L.S.M." realised in respect of '''colonial hospitality" as he had commonly heard it spoken of. Here again he underwent a sharp disillusion. He puts it. thus : — "Before 1 left England I had listened to the words of those who had been in New Zealand in the ' old days,' when, they sav. money was plentiful and hospitality abroad in the land. I heard of these things, too, when 1 arrived, but sought them in vain. I will not say that the colonial is inhospitable, tor I have been treated kindly by many of them ; but the days of plentiful work in Australasia have passed, and the newcomer is not received as he used to be. Until he has proved himself, he is regarded with something akin to contempt, and is looked upon as a softy"What is the good of a fellow, thinks the colonial, who probably does not know how to ride, or to milk, or to do anything out of doors? It may be a correct estimate, but it is not pleasant for the stranger. If, however, you are not anxious for work, and mavbe have a little money, you will naturally find plenty of people ready to show yoii the greatest friendliness. "In connection with this let me life up my voice in warning. The 'colonial simplicity' one hears about is a myth: it does not exist. " One worthy, to whom I was introduced in a country hotel, saluted me with 'How do? Going to shout?' Although taken aback, I had enough presence of mind to; refuse him the drink he wanted, and in consequence was put down as a niggard. The fact is, the 'new chum' must be always on his guard. He must distrust everyone he meets, and, if he has any money, must carefully disguise the fact." His idea that lucrative employment was to be had for the mere asking was speedik dispelled. He says: — .'"Do"" not imagine that you can land m New Zealand with a few shillings and that •you will find work teh same day. "Although the harvesting was in full swing »vhen I arrived, three weeks passed before any work came my way. My first job consisted of pulling down a large wooden building. I was* paid £2 2s a week for this, and it "suited me well, but it only lasted for a fortnight, 'the I secured work at a wool-scouting mill. This was a most disagreeable occupation, but not too hard, so low-' as one h-id merely to work at the , wool after it had been 'through the cleaning process; bat when it came to hauling about huge, heavy bales, I recognised that to continue I would need the strength of an ox. "However willing one may be, one cannot achieve the impossible. I stood it for a time, feeling that I should shortly expire, and then gave in. After that, -S\ .spent several weeks looking for something to do. advertising in the papers, and riding out to different farms and offering to work for my keep only, but I could find nothing. "I therefore gave up the hope of getting anything to dr in. Lhe country districts, . anil went down to Wellington, the capital, With a batch of letters of introduction, thinking taut if farm hands were not wanted perhaps clerks were. I was in time to participate in a meeting of the unemployed. My letters of introduction proved useless, and. after more than a fortnight of daily tramping from office to shop. I was no : more advanced than before. I therefore left the town and set out on a little walk of eighty odd miles. I remember that walk well." It was at the end of summer. I called at several farms, where I got occasional meals, but no work was forthcoming. P was excessively cold at night, when I slept on the ground, under a covering of brknehes torn iron- the trees; and I was sometimes extremely hungry, but I enjoyed it nevertheless. It was not profitable, however, and 1 was glad to get back to the town, where I had a few friends." Evan when at last he did obtain employment—unsalaried at first—he by no means realised his expectations. He describes his experiences as follows: — "Shortly after this I was invited to stay on a sheep farm, it being understood that I should give a hand with the work. Imagine a one-roomed hut set down on a sea of green. Green hills rising and falling into the distance, as far as the eye could reach, dotted over with sheet). Outside the hut a bottomless pail. This was our stove, in which we cooked tinned meats of various kinds, or a chop on the rare occasions when a sheep was killed. With our meat we ate biscuits and drank tea.

"I shall never forget the awful monotony of that month. During the day no sound could he heard but the plaintive bleating oi the sheep, and if yoiu eye ( rested for anv length of time on the sur- '-- rounding country, you could easily imagine yourself the only man on earth. Given a congenial companion, this life might be Pleasant enough. Unfortunately, the man 1 was with had tastes utterly difierent to m y own, and so we were but sorry companions. It usually happened that, after the evening meal, we would straight away torn into our bunks, simply because we had nothing to say to each other- I can understand people losing their wits when obliged wHivf in'lonelv places. 'When my visit was over, I found work •J 'handy man' about an up-country ' store' f five shillings per week. For this I had ™ labour from earlv morn till late at night. ' £&ter on I had temporary employment, at . setter pay, us machinist in a workshop. • - *«, altogether, I did not earn a ten-pound ?ote the whole of the eight months I was 10 the country. When, after further un-

profitable wanderings, I decided to leave New Zealand, it was on the advice of colonials themselves that I acted.

"My experience is before you. I knew many others who met with no better success than I did, and I know a few who have got on well, and who hold good positions. But they were not greenhorns when they went out; they were more or less equipped for the struggle."

This article should exercise a useful function in discouraging exaggerated expectations on the part of the "New Chum."