TOURISTS CRITICISMS.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXX, Issue 6450, 22 February 1908, Page 2

TOURISTS CRITICISMS.

NEW ZEALAND OFFICE IN SYDNEY. LEAVES FROM THE VISITORS' BOOK. New Zealanders are proverbially an extremely patriotic people (says the Australian Star of January 25). * They are generally travelled, have reached at least the average of culture, and are keen on sight-seeing. But whereever one meets with them abroad they are certain to be found extolling the beauties and wonders of God’s Own Country, and inferentially, when not openly and defiantly, deprecating their immediate surroundings. Even amid the scenic glories of Sydney Harbour, the North Islander cannot refrain from setting up an invidious comparison with Auskland Harbour, “studied with gem-like island’s, rivalling those of Corinth.” Nor can the South Islander, similarly placed, forbear entering upon a long eulogism of the Lyttelton Harbour, and he is sure to finish up with some remark as “You ought to see Milford Sound, anyhow." It is on record that a pakeha, whilst gazing upon Pompeii, ejaculated; “These things are interesting but you should see our ancient Maori relics! Why, we have in our museums native war canoes that crossed over from the Islands to New Zealand before Vesuvius erupted!” Which was a very characteristic exaggeration. Even in Paradise the spirit of the Maorilander doubtless sighs for the flesh-pots of the evergreen island it has left behind it.

. If there in one delight more than another which rejoices the soul of the wanderer from, say, the puritanical wilderness of Otago, or the wet and! windy wilds of Wairarapa, it is to seize upon a visitors’ book, whether in a hotel, a public library, or a Government Bureau, and therein to write frenzied words of love of his own. own native land. The enterprising Seddon Government provided him with a thoroughly up-to-date tourist bureau on this side, so that before and after ho “does” the sights of the Blue Mountains he can unburden himself in the massive book kept for the purpose of the whims and longings that he calls his opinions. A “Star” reporter opened -ikis book one day, and, being himself almost a New Zealander, he naturally read on and on, when he came across such heartfelt tributes to the land of the Moa as: “How beautiful is the work of Thy hands, O Lord—New Zeal-and”-“All over the world have I roved, but never yet have X seen anyth to equal Lake Takapuna, or been in any city half so beautiful s as my native Auckland” Kanui-pai! Kia Ora! Haka! Page after page yields its fertile harvest of praises of 6.0.0., as ari irreverent Sydneyite, sandwiching his abbreviation in between two extra strong Maoriland \flights of fancy, describes ■ “God’s Own Oountiy.” Councillor ■Richard Brinsley, of Dunedin, almost breaks into poetry in the endeavour to adequately express his feelings. “The sweetest scene in all my travels,” he proudly and publicly places on record, “will be the route into Dunedin. Amen.” It was doubtless the fervent “Amen” that appealed to the Rev. William Thomson, also an Otago man, for wq find him “Delighted to find that Councillor Brinsley can he so sweetly pathetic,” Their neighbour, Mr. Fulton, who writes just underneath the "Rev. Bill’s” testimony, “I would like to live and die here” (meaning, thereby Sydney), had better look out for squalls now that his singularly unpatriotic screed has found publication. After Fulton it is soothing to turn to the entry of a titled German, written in_ a bold, determined hand. Count Fntz Hochhefg, of Halbau, Silesia, Germany —the pen lingers lovingly over an imposing signature like that—-informs the world that he “has just returned highly satisfied with four weeks’ trip in- New Zealand, and enthusiastic about the incomparable beauty of Te Anau Lake and Milford Sound.” Mr. A. L. McLean is a trifle ambiguous in his statement that “Australia cannot compare with ‘God’s Own Country’ with all its large cities,” as one is left in doubt whether he is referring te the large cities cf New’ Zealand or Australia. However, he meant w'ell. It is gratifying to learn that a Mr. Turnbull, of Gore, had a “hosker” time in Sydney. A “hosker” time is a “high old time” condensed, and it takes a Gore man to properly appreciate it. There is no liquor in Gore; the hotels have been converted by prohibition into “soft tack swilleries,” and every citizen bas cultivated the Puritan mode of enjoying oneself in a severely restrained fashion. Skipping a few “kapai’s” we come to the solemn assertion of Mr. Fitchott—Mr. B. T. Ritchett he proudly signs himself —that he is “Off to New Zealand; Sydney no good!” Mr. Lundon found Sydney “quite a change after Auckland,” which is a concession as pleasing as it surprising. Mr. Roland St. Clair, merchant, and Consul for Sweden in New Zealand, makes the following interesting memorandum —" A New -Zealand State-owned paper is required m Sydney, postage to New Zealand te be abolished or reduced. A daily. steam service between Sydney and North New Zealand is also required.” There’s a chance for the enterprising shipping company. A Mr. Anderson takes the whole public into his confidence. Unlike the needy organ-grinder, he has a story to tell; and here it is: “Have recently returned from New Zealand after 23 years’ absence. It is, to my mind, the most beautiful country to be seen on earth. Climate: Perfect in the North Island. Scenery: Grand. Work: Plentiful. If a man starves in New Zealand' it is his own fault!” And so says every New Zealander, amen (te quote Councillor Brinsley, who must not be allowed to enjoy a monoply of piety, anyway). The Honourable O. H. Mills, Minister for Marine and Customs. strikes the usual patriotic keynote. ‘This agency,” he says, ing real good work, and its functions might be considerably extended with advantage to New Zealand.” There you have it. To the New Zealander the chief centre of interest in Sydney is the New Zealand Government Tourist Bureau. Could patriotism go further?