Round THE Corners

New Zealand Mail, Issue 746, 18 June 1886, Page 17

Round THE Corners

It has come at last, and with a vengeance. Nobody who knew anything of the subject of volcanic action but expected a blow up some day in that district of least resistance, situated on one of the earth’s main axes of least resistance. For geologists aver that New Zealand is on that axis of least resistance that connects the volcanic system of the Indian Archipelago with the volcanoes Hecla and Terror in the great Antarctic Continent. Everyone, nearly, was aware of the volcanic nature of the colony. From north to south there are evidences of it, and that marvellous zone, from White Island north to Tongariro south is the safety valve. A zone of hot springs—mud holes and geysers, always at work, fizzing and roaring and letting off surplus energy harmlessly into the atmosphere. Fancy shutting up that safety valve by covering the zone with a few hundred feet of superincumbent rocky strata. A pretty rumpus there would be down below, and what a rush of the fire and steam and mud and ashes demons for the nearest available vents. Mounts Tongariro and Tarawera, and, very likely, the system of quiescent craters about Auckland would be burning mountains indeed, and the greater part of the North Island uninhabitable. Happily such a contingency is permanently averted by the shmo ground of the colony. There nature has provided the means of harmless and beautiful expression and if, occasionally, as last week, an outburst of abnormal activity occurs, it is not more than might be expected, and is nothing to create a panic about, providing the expression is confined to the legitimate bounds of the zone in question. And in the case before us it is confined to the very focus of the disturbing forces. Rotomahana overlies a veritable inferno. There, there is a concentration of Plutonic power, and that White Terrace hill, a mount of fire and steam, and the hot lake, were direct evidences of it. And after centuries of comparative peace, a trifling attack of colic seizes the place, and then the explosion, which, after all, confines its devastation to a radius of about ten or twelve miles. The only wonder is that the expression was of such a moderate tone. And this ought to convey assurance of the absolute security of life in the district by o.nd by, when signs and portents of coming outbursts are understood and noted.

At any rate, there is nothing to make a very serious fuss about. We all deeply lament the loss of life and destruction of property, but as for the country itself, the severe outburst of last week has invested it with additional attractions. We grieve that the Terraces, those masterpieces of nature’s handiwork, are destroyed, and the basin of Rotomahana converted into a seething volcanic crater, but the attraction now is greater than that, even, of the Terraces. A.ud, again, who can tell that the deposition of a layer of volcanic mud, over an admittedly exceptionalbarrensurface,willnot prove a blessing instead of a curse in the long run. Lava soils are notably fertile. Look at the slopes of Vesuvius and Etna, grow anything, and the natives stick to their burning mountains, and do well out of them. Of course earthquakes and eruptions are always anticipatory, but then, you know, “ fortune seldom comes with both hands full.”

Affect our credit with the Old Country did you say ? Not a bit of it, but rather the reverse. It has been understood for years that the Colony possessed, and gloried in possessing, an active volcanic district. Its sudden subsidence, the extinction of all the springs and geysers, and the substitution of a beautiful rolling country in place of the sulphur, nitre, and alum deposits, would do much more damage to the Colony’s credit than an occasional volcanic outburst, “which of course was to be expected, you know.” As the world grows older streams of visitors will pour in yearly to our wonderland, and the takings “ of the show ” will be many, many thousands per annum. No, no ; spite of Tarawera’s nasty, spiteful temper, and the moodiness of Tongariro and Ruapehu, we will stick to our geysers and fumaroles, and think as much of ’em as ever ; perhaps a little more.

It is gratifying to find that within Parliament itself there is a desire to control Parliamentary representation. It would be retrenchment in the right direction, for, as I pointed out weeks ago, New Zealand has a higher average of representation than any other country. If the proportion of members to population was the same in Great Britain, St,

Stephens would have to be enlarged to accomodate six thousand of the people’s chosen—about ten times their present number. Yes, Mr Bradshaw, we could do with fewer, by at least twenty. But do you think your eloquence, or anyone else sitting on those elysium benches, could persuade to such an act of “ happy despatch ?” I fear me not. However, try it on, sir, and, if possible, save the country four or five thousand a year. As for the L.C., the Ministry that gives effect to any more “elevations ” will be guilty of treason in the highest degree.

The House should rejoice in the acquisition of another eccentric member. He, of Sydenham, seems to be of an original cast of character —is evidently of the porcupine species, bristles out in every direction to repel attack. That little incident last week, of the point of order, the shameful imposition upon,- and taking advantage of, a new member, was simply delicious. How Sir Maurice must have enjoyed it.

Well hit, Mr Buckland, M.H.R. ; straight from the shoulder, sir. You never spoke to better purpose than when you so boldly exposed that attempt at intimidation re a message of sympathy to the G.0.M., Gladstone. It was a proper try on, that took, it seems, in some directions. There were names there that made people doubt their sense of sight as they read. Parliament might have been better, much better, employed attending to the affairs of its own distracted country. When will these wretched old-world differences be let alone ?

I am not at all clear after the recent sudden change of nomenclature that “ a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” The name of the fort has been changed, and the name of the steam launch has been changed, and we have yet to learn that the change is for the better. Gordon, a peer among men, chivalrous, self-denying, who had done so much in his generation, whose bent was to evolve order out of chaos, and whose sense of justice and duty was ever in the ascendant. Well, the name of the steam launch did not matter, but the fort —Heavens! what a mistake—one that I am very confident the person whose name was substituted had no hand in making. It’s enough to bring a judgment on the land ; no wonder Tarawera broke out.

Yes, Mr Rolleston, ’twas “ a storm in a teacup.” Lord, Lord, how squeamish some of U 3 are becoming to be sure. As if anyone pays the slightest attention to these strong, virtuous protestations, on the part of professional politicians. Arn’t politics made up of jugglery, special pleading, and “ smartness,” as our Yankee cousins appraise the term ;. a Scotchman might say “ pawbey V Isn’t party support bought every day in one form or another ? It "" is astonishing with what facility impressions are conveyed in a House of Parliament, a marvellous intuition governs Ministry and members. Telepathy, thought reading, and all the rest of it, are in active operation. It is a fact that leaders of parties, when in power, will do most anything to retain office. Bribery and corruption, Sir Julius, are no new terms-to apply to oolitics, for both are nearly always producing effect—a very silent effect, perhaps, but all the while “ ’tis thar,” as the Yankee captain observed to his owners, when they were looking over his accounts and not seeing the item ex- if pressed, asked him what had become of the;/ 1 new suit of clothes he used to make himself a present of eut of the proceeds of the voyage, but which they at last'demurred to and stopped. “It’s thar’ gentlemen,” said the sweet innocents* with a chuckle. “ Reckon Pm still right up.” And so’with parliamentary tele- r* pathy. “It’s thar,” Sir Julius, always at work. I don’t say in your case, Sir Julius. Lord blessme, no; such a peppery gentleman as you are, so- * fond of law ! Wouldn’t tread on your toes on any consideration. Still, you know I am right.. Ah ! if we could only dig right down to the well-springs of your actions, and those of y.our worthy colleagues, how instructive and enlightening that would be, the latter at any rate._ , And so the poor devil who sent that bit of * choice information to- the Christchurch Press i is a “ miscreant,” eh I Hanging wa3 too good : for him, ura ! Well, gentlemen politicians, if . ' we all had our deserts, some of us would not repose so softly, nor fare so daintily as we do. These little altercations do stir up conscience, I feel desperately guilty myself.

A farmer chap, an acquaintance of mine, south about, is jubilant at the good price his wheat fetched the other day. “ Four shillings a bushel, sir, and might have got another penny or two if I had held a bit longer.” Yes, ’twas a bit of cheering news, that there is grain in the Colony worth so much, and shows what thorough-going farming -in this country can do. And my informant further averred, exultantly, that 33 6d and 4s paid as well now as 4s and 4s 6d did a few years ago. And the secret lies in good farming, and an unencumbered estate. That’s the rub. If farms are mortgaged up to the eaves of their granaries, how can they be expected to pay? In New Zealand farming can be made to pay, and pay ■well, by men of capital, ability, and steady industry. But if the farmer falls into the clutches of the money lender it is all u P with him.

Scene : Cabin of steamer; boat conveying .! Volunteers to an Easter encampment. \) Dramatis Personte : Full Volunteer private afc the bar taking a drink of whiskey, glass in i hand.. Steward just served him. Volunteer commanding officer : “ Hallo, steward, do you know what you are doing and what that man i 3 ?” Steward : Just asked for whiskey, sir ; served him.” Officer (severely) : “He is . a prisoner, sir. Whiskey, indeed!” “Now sir (to prisoner,) just put that down sir !” Prisoner drained his glass, and •) then, • respectfully saluting, said : “Its down, sir.” Officer-in-charge: “ Chugh!” turned away disgusted. Steward grinned and prisoner; winked and wetted his other eye. Asmodeus,