COSY CORNER CLUB.

Otago Witness, Volume 02, Issue 2420, 2 August 1900, Page 58

COSY CORNER CLUB.

SECOND SESSION— .FIETK MEETINO.

TOPIC. The country in which yoti have most ers.joyed travelling, and the sights and features which most impiessed you, or, the country in which you must keenly desire to travel, with the places v/hich v?ould most attract you while there.

j My dear Comrades, — We hava such a full I muster of members to-day, and so many good papers to listen to, that I shall only detain you for a few moments. First, to thank you ill for sending in your papers in good time ; second, tc draw the club's attention to the wording of the "topic," which has not been y_ery closely complied with..

Only a few members have noticed that it is "the country ,(not countries) in which you have most enjoyed travelling," or "the country (not countries) in which you most keenly desire to travel."

Members will all be pleased, I think, to notice that the October meeting is announced as an open, or members', meeting, at which the choice of topic is left entirely to individual taste, each member choosing his or her own. I trujt_tho result will prove as enjoyable as on the first occasion. And now to our travels. Dear Emmeline, — Since reading A. L. Gordon's poems and JBoldrewood's '"Robbery Under Arms," I have had a great iesire to explore the back blocks oi Australia; to experience tho quiet pleasures Gordon pictures in "Ihe Sick Stockrider" : — 'Twas nieriy, in the glowing morn, among the gleaming grass,

To wander, as we've wandered, many a mile, To blow the cool tobacco cloud, and watch the white wreaths pass, Sitting loosely in the saddle all the while.

'Twps merry 'mid the biackvvoods, when we spied the station roofs,

To wlisel the wild scrub cattle at the yard, "With a running fire of stockwhips and a fiery

run of hoofs, — ■

Oh, the hardest day was never then ,tco hard. Or, again, to accompany an imaginary Starlight on one of his cattle-stealing expeditions, over nigged' hills and thiough wild, wooded valleys and drought-stiicken deserts, inhabited only lay kangaroos ; jumping silently over the grotesque and barren ground, setting the police at defiance, for — No game was e^ev yet worth a rap For a rational man to play Into which no accident, no mishap. Could possibly find its way. —Yours, etc.,

ECLAIR,

I agree with you, Eclair, that there is much to observe, interest, and enjoy in Australian back blocks, but 1 don't want to go there one bit. Lindsay Gordon, "Banjo" Paleraon, and Lawson have caught the spirit of the wilds, and the temper of "the men who roam there, with a splendid blending of rcaHsm with imagination, and I personally feel content to read what they have wiitten for me. I feel the truth of J-iawson's picture of "Dan, the Wreck" : After all, he is a grafter, Earns his cheer — Kesps the :00m in roars of laughter, When he gets outside a beer.

"Yarns that would fall flat from others Pie can tell; How he sijent his " stuff " my brothers, You know well. .And my heart goes out to Jim Carew, as P-iteraon paints him for vs — "One of the sons of the good old land," who Came to grief — was it card or horse? Nobody asked and nobody cßied; Ship him away to the bush of course, Ne'er-do-weels are easily spared. Gentleman Jim on the cattle camp, Siiiijg his hojse with an easy grsce; But ilia reckless living has left its stamp in tha de^p drawn lineg of th^t hr-ndsome face, And a harder look in those eyes of blue ; Prompt at a quarrel is Jim Carew.

Nature's aspects on those Australian back blocks allure you, evidently, Eclair.. Do you remember thoso lines in Paterson's "Droving DcTts"? At dawn 01 day we would feel the breeze* That stirred the boughs of the sleeping trees, And brought a breath of ihe fragrance rare That conies and goes in that scented sir; For bike trees and grass and shrubs contain A dry sweet scent on the salttrash plain.

But I shall weary you, Eclair, with- those quotations. lam like the carpet critics, who will not fight themselves, but would ''handle Buller's foiee, sir, on very different lines" ; and ''have no patience with Roberta's mistaken leniency'" !

Dear Suimoline, — India still being the place par excellence wheieia I would travel, I choose Tastcinlß, as one cf the places wneiein I_have travelled. Tasmania, is twofold. Here, '"crabbed age a::d youth" aye together, undisturbed by tlie contact. .Beautiful Hobart, or

"Sleapy Hollow, ' might very properly be called an ?noma!y, for here quaint little sliopa, with floors like unio a sv,'itchbaok, and possessing the darkness of Erebus, and totally unsaleable goods, scovjl across cobble street? at -olateglas3 and nii'di grandeur. Great P. and 0. steanieis lie, with ancient feriy boats, in the broad, bins harbour. Near the massive Government House is a cluster of tiny tin-roofed shanties. This is Eestdown, where rested the first coraer3 to Tasmania vhen ihe century was in its teens. Past Restdown lies New Norfolk, T?here ihe great ppple orchaids are, and crowded houfields mingle thcii Litter scent with the wattle bloom. Stony Mount Wellington, clad in many-coloured greens, guards Hobart from the north winds', and over the lovely little town hangs the still beauty and warmth of a summer Sabbath. Electric trams run shakily past many incongruities : grand lioujas in gorgeous gardens, and luscious grape, firr, and mulberry trees; worm-eaten, slabsided buildings and grey cin.lr3hya.fcl3. rText a pretty church stands a great atone house empty. On its site the bushrangers were hung in p^at dP3-s, and neither electric tvarng nor church can lay the ghosts. Tp.sniannns are very fond of fehosts, and they seem to be as necessary to tai old house as a roof. But there are many teirible stories to aceoxmfc for them. Below the sqxiat lighthouse, and round past fretted Cape Eaoul, is Port Arthur, the original convict seitlernent. The barracks are in decay, and the emplacements overgiowm but the tori or and grief of those dead days lurk there still. The convicts have another memorial in Ihe red road cutting fhe island from north to south. The chained gangs of dogged men made it in the sweat of their brows; but the days of coach and horse and postillion are now gone, and a train shrieks its way through this slr?nge land. In an upland paddock a one-furrow plough wears sloivly round rotting tree stumps. Beside a bluff, given over tc the rabbit, feeds the merino, every wrinkle in his daft neck counted by guineas. That ledgy, bush -girt hollow is Lake Tibeiias ; and we have more piety in Jericho and Jerusalem to counteract the "Devil' j Punch Bowl" jn the wild east cosst. There, en the old coach load, is the ''Eagle's Return," where Rocky Wheelan'a gang "stuck up" many passengers in the old bushranging- days, when every man carried his life in his hand, and a pistol in his belt. In this old grey farmhouse fhree oi four generations have lived and died, and known naught of the world beyond. In tint big house let in green paddocks every Hixury has come straight irorn Melbourne. But most of the line is, given over to desolation and bush. Sheoaks, gum trees, white-boled in ringed death; either .tor tui ed into gnarled lughtniares or straight and tall, with their streaming bark tapping out ghostly noises. Here a side line runs into the bush, to end in a honeysuckle. Porliapjs the engineer died^ or forgot his origi-

nal intention. Thiough the hpliow in this great gum tree you could drive four-in-hand, and up in the darkness at its heart lurk strange things: bright-eyed 'possums, wild bees, a lithe brown snake, or a hairy tarantula. Across the purple western tiers ia magnificent bush: ferns of every kkid, orchids, clematis, convolvuli and berries- of infinite variety. Here, also, is the dense, horizontal scrub and the ironbarfc; and beyond, silver and tin, and a busy to?/n— Zeehan. This is a place of wealth and young life and progress. This note is repeated, albeit rnoie faintly in LauncesWn. Melbourne is only 14 hours away, and Launceston is the dumping ground of tourists. It is slightly smaller than Hobart, having only about 16,000 inhabitants, and it is accessible to much beauty. Patient bullocks in light diays rub the electric light posts; bicycles spin past, and bevies of rosyfaced English-looking girls go down -to tha tennis courts or the golf ground, and on Saturday nights relics of past ages cieep from their dens to haunt the streets — decrepid, halfblind convicts, given over to wickedness and' very old age; whole families of beggars to follow incessantly, asking for pence. There are no native traces extant, save a few names— Illaroo, Triabunna, and some monkey-like casts in the museum. Each little village has its own ghosts and treasures. In Longford the white-faced church clock and the wooden vestry chairs were presented by George IV. Down past Deloraine are the famous stalactite Chuclleigh Caves. Near Tamar Heads is the bushrangsr Bradley's "Lookout." Tasmania, is a placid pool in the xapids of colonial life. Gieab grey kangaroos hop noiselessly through tha unfertile bush, where heath grows thick, and magpies chortle gaily round the many deserted houses. Tasmanians are clannish, and their hearts are waim. They come together all tho world over; and they are brave and generous, for they have given of their youth and their gold freely during this past year. It is a, strange place, with the history of the past writ all over it, and a halo of romance about it which is unknown to the quicker-pulsed Axis■tralian or New Zealan&er.— Yours, etc.,

TED: Your sketch of Tasmania is very interesting, Ted. &omG old friends of mine came from there, and your description of the country districts reminds me so much of what I have heard them say; while your allusions to the old convict days recall the dark and sinister -power Marcus Clarke's "For the Term o£ His Natural Life" — a book which grips the emotions and the imagination with powerful intensity, and is utterly impossible to forget. Strangely enough, you answer a question I have so often a^ked myself: "Is it possible that all such lives have been lived, such, deeds have been committed, and no ghosts come back to haunt the scenes?" I never heard any mention made of haunted spots before, but it seems so natural. We take such comfort from the thought that the beautiful influences of a pure and tender life live on among us, though death has stilled the ministering hand? and bound the willing feet that we miiffc believe the reverse. Tell me, Ted, what you think. Dear Ernneline, — If I could "take 'old o' the wings o' the momin'," and my flight was I limited to less than the whole world, I should * ride on the wind that -would carry me to England. Of all the countries I wish to see and know, Britain always stands first. Its deep attraction lies in ihe simple fact that it is Britain — "Home" to all the colonies . alike, however widely scattered. A little island set in the Atlantic, yet whose greatness is felt in .every quarter of the globe.

I have often wondered upon what kind of day, if ever, I shall for the first time look upon, the white cliffs of Dover ; when I shall first listen to the ro-'ghty roar of the traffic of England's capital; see her chipping, breathe her air, smoky though it be! Imagine oneself standing at night 011 Westminster bridge, and, watching the myriad "lights o' London, realising that one stood in the heart of the greatest Empire the world has ever seen.

To journey through London on top of one of the ordinary 'buses — what a ride in itself! To visit her historical buildings, whose names alone imply so much — Westminster Abbey, the British Museum, the House of Commons, silent recorders not only of the mighty dead, but also cf the living. England hold 3 a thousand possibilities, and in such simple things the echo of hei greatness is heard. I would give a great deal to wait at the Easton station and watch the Scotch express thunder in, or be an onlooker at Waterloo station upon the arrival or departure of Britain's troops, the array that is only her second line o* defence, and so apt to be forgotten when the first is present, yet v.hicb has for so miny years borne all tha brunt of her almost endless little wars on her many frontier outposts. The same desire would draw me to Aldcrshot when the autumn, manoeuvres were being held, and to the Government workshops to see an English csnh.cn

called into being.

In imagination I have visited so many places in England— little, quaint villages, quiet, out of the way nooks: Cornwall, Devon, Kent — every county has its own special claim, and every season. In dreams I have smelt tho lanes in springtime, I have seen the trees in autumn., and ths marshes in winter. A visit to England would not be complete without a sight of the fen country, the wild moors, or Land's End, with its locks and bright blue waters, raid fishing boats trooping home from, the ocean harvest fields. Even the simple hay barges creeping dovm the Thames enthral me. But what I long to gee lies not in a .few spots only, nor England alone, of all the British Isles. With Britain also, goes tha desire, peihaps a vain one, to ca,tch a, glimpse of the "little lady in black" — so true a woman, so sreat a Queen. The scenery of other countries may possess greater grandeur, and their peasants may be more picturesque, but none can'boast of greater deeds or better laws, and what Britain has proved herself to be, both in the past and present, moves me to my choice.

If our travels had not been restricted to 011 a country alone I should most assuredly have included in rcy journey a J rip to India, Africa north and south), and Gibraltar. The vastness of Africa (felt alike in the deserts of Egypt and the loneliness of the karroo), the kceu, lifegivmsc aii'i the glorious sunsets, appeal to me iiresistibly, while a greater, deeper note 13 struck in the remembrance of the men who have found in these countries their life -work — - none greater than that worked out in our own time; noae better, I think, than that performed by those whose nameless graves besr silent witness to the part they played. For this same reason India stands so high. Hei roll-call of splendid men stands unsurpassed, a finer testimony than many "statues. India's devotion to-day, to the country against whom her blackest crimes were committed is a glorious thing — her; people ready at England's word; a dark, silent menace to England's foes. From Calcutta to the Hindoo Koosh, India could steal from me many, many days. Gibraltar, with its stern, never-siceping power beneath its flaming gera-' niums and wealth of roses, the w'atckdog of the Empire in the Mediterranean, calls me with, a like voice ; but on this ioiuuiey we are allowed but one country to travel in, and therefore my lodeatone would be England.— Yours, etc., - GABRIEIiLE. Like you* Gabrielie, my plan of traTgß

would be strongly biased towards England —she calls her colonial children with a, warmer more motherly voice too of later years, since we have "grown up" more, and she finds in us the deep delight of the mother who suddenly — the bonds of staid conventionality broken by some sudden loss or deep reverse — finds her daughters capable of understanding, sympathy, help. To me, too, it always seems that in the personal love, admiration, and pride which halos our Queen lies the secret of that intense sympathy and loyalty which binds otir great Empire in bonds of brotherhood such as have no rival in the national life of to-day. Yes, how" much Britain means to all of us ! The spots which would be endeared to us by the personal reminiscences of our parents ; the provincial life made familiar to us by such novelists as Hardy, Blackmore, Trollope, Crockett, and Barrie — the life of cities as Dickens has painted it for us, with conditions, surroundings, and types as novel to us as would be the ways of old Jerusalem ; the celebrated places of history, the old churches with their treasures of carving and monumental brasses; the family seats, those "stately homes of England."

And then we have said nothing of art treasures, of priceless libraries, of Oxford and Cambridge, nor have wo wandered in Kentish lanes or Devonshire apple orchards; have not pottered about the Norfolk broads, faced the wild winds that hurl green seas upon the Cornish coast, or tramped the purple heather of- the Scottish moors. Patience : the daj' may come. .

Dear Emmeline, — With the exception of a voyage Home by Ceylon and the Mediterranean, which I have already described, I think that of all my travels a ten-months' stay in Germany lives most freshly in my memory; probably because I was very young then, and full of the capacity for enjoyment.

Our adventures began at the very outset of cur journey, foi we had no sooner embarked on the little Leith steamer that was to take ti3 to Rotterdam, when a furious storm came on, causing the voyage, which usually occupied 36 hours, to be lengthened to five days. It was a iearful thing in the darkness of night to hear the waves dash with the sound of great guns against our little ship ; and as we sat on deck diiring the day lashed to our seats, to see the ships pass with masts gone, bulwarks gone, and all listed io one side by the shifted cargo. It was splendid to see tho foam dash right over the top of the Bass Rock, and if it was amusing to hear the Dutch steward weep and. bemoan his fate between the spasms of sickness, it was not consoling to know that tho propeller was so nearly worn out that it had been determined to replace it by a new one before the next voyage.

Rotterdam and the journey through Holland were delightful. Canals and windmills, windmills and canals, grew a little monotonous; but in the towns and villages everything was new and strange, and we never tired of admiring the women in their picturesque costumes which always included a snowy cap, often adorned with costly lace, and strange, spiral ear-ornaments of silver or gold. In Cologne, where we stayed over Sunday, the great sight is, the Doin 'or Cathedral. Service was going on nearly all day, and an invisible choir made music that sounded, in these vast, arched spaces, like the music of heaven. Cologne Cathedral impressed me as much as Westminster Abbey, and that is saying a great deal. It was so old, so old, and yet so- new; for even then the building was not quite finished. No one knows who the architect was; for he sold his soul to the Dsvil in return foi his help in drawing the plans, and 0119 of the conditions was that his name should be forgotten.

The journey iro the Rhine was another delight. It was late autumn and the-woods were in their golden glory. 'Xhe grape-gatherers were busy in the vineyards, and grapes — poor little things that made your mouth sore if you ate many— -could be had for a few pence the pound. Great lafts of timber are constructed on the Rhine, and floated down to the ports of embarkation, and I used to think how nice it would be to have a little hut on one like the raftmen, and float down, enjoying the scenery all the way.

Space forbids m 6 to enlarge on the joys of life in the fashionable watering-place that was out destination. The novel airangement of the houses, where all the rooms on one floor open out of each other by means of folding doors ; the bare, parqueted floors ; the horrid " ofens " or stoves, which re-place our cheerful open fires ; the funny little beds, each with an immense, inflated down qtiilt tha,t sailed out on the floor if you ventured to turn round — all served to remind us that we were in a foreign land. But the delights of the Kursaal were never-ending, on the promenade of which an excellent band played every afternoon, and gave high-class-syraphony concerts in the great hall every evening. Many of the greatest musicians came there and gave concerts, and excellent teaching was to be had. Then came winter, when the lakes froze and you could see th'o goldfish under the clear ice ; when the fountains stopped playing and the swans and ducks were replaced by fashionable crowds holding high ca-nival on skates. On quiet nights the lake was illuminated with Chinese lanterns and limelights, and the scene was more bewitching than ever.

We made a few excursions before returning home, and saw Mainz, a very old and interesting town ; Frankfurt, the birtholpce of Goethe arid the home of the Rothschild family; Aix-la-Chapelle, which contains ihn the oldest cathedral in Europe, built by Charlemagne and now containing his body. All the water in Ai-s smells and tastes of lucifer matches, owing to the sulphur springs. We also stayed a few days in Brussels, and visited Waterloo; but the best of all was Antwerp, old world Antwerp, with its holy shrinea at the street-cor-nets ; its lovely churches filled with the rarest wood-carving and world-famed pictures by Rubens and other masters, and over all the, ■sweet-toned chimes of St. Gudule.

Yes, I should like to have that time over again. • It was one of the happiest years of a happy life. — Yours, etc..