A LETTER FROM ANGELESEA,

Otago Witness, Issue 2647, 7 December 1904, Page 74

A LETTER FROM ANGELESEA,

Masterton, November 27. Pear Dot, — Here am I bothering you again. Last week, when in a shop in Woodvilie, I noticed that three girls were looking at and talking about |tne, and looking up in the direction of my hat. I felt very uncomfortable, as the thought came into my head, Was my ha.t on crooked? or perhaps it was back to front (I quite forgot about the badge); but I v/Sa satisfied as to what they were looking at when one said something about "the Otago Witness." Immediately I turnedi round and scanned their hats, but as I didn't see anything resembling a D.L.F. badge, I didn't say anything. Just the other day I was in a country hall, and in a back room I stumbled over a candlebox. On looking to see what was in my road', wha,t should I espy in it but an Otago Witness. Of course, with a, scream of excitement, I pounced on it. It was an old number, dated October 7, 1903. Turning to the D.L.F. Page, the very first letter was one written by myself. Wasn't it strange? I did get excited, and danced round the room. There was a letter from Awkward Ned, telling us of an experience he had with a ferret; one from Duke's Amuser, and one from Florodora proposing the St. Leonards picnic on Labour Day. Needless to say, when I left the hall I had that paper in my possession. In Carterton a few weeks ago I met a D.L.F. — Fra Diavolo — but -only had a moment to speak to him at the time. I saw him again here in Masterton, but- not to speak to/ That is the first D.L.F. I have spoken to since I left Dimedin. There are none to be met with up this way. However, I hope to see plenty in Dunedin next February. Now I shall tell you of our trip to Gisborne. Boarding the Zealandia^at Auckland, we had a lovely trip; and arrived in Gisborne 24 hours later. Gisborne is a very pretty, bustling town, but has several disadvantages. First, it has ai poor harbour. The steamers anchor a good distance out, and a tender comes out and takes all passengers and luggage to town. In rough weather it is a treat. The two steamers *re pitching about, and the passengers are hoisted over in baskets, and oftentimes the steamers go straight on without stopping. The train service is as funny as a circus (no offence meant to Gisborne). The railway goes about 12 miles into the country. The carriages are chosen that are of no use anywhere else; and the speed of the whole conoern is about a mile an hour. The stationmaster, guard, and porter are one man ; they carry him on the train, and he opens up the stations as h« goes aJong. One morning, I had just come in from the country, and as I wa3_ talking to some young ladies on the station, about five minutes after I (had got off the train, the stationmaster, guard, etc., canw up and said, "Your ticket, miss." I nearly had a fit. The country round about Gisborne is lovely, , and is splendid sheep country, and there are a number of large sheep stations there. One , large station (about 95 miles out), the property of Mr J. C. Williams, sends away 2500 sheep and 10,000 head of ca-ttle every year. Starting away from Gisborne, we engaged one of Redstone and Sons' large coaches and five horses, and went about 100 miles up the coast towards the East Cape. Oh, the roads! The first stage of our journey was 36 miles, and the road is along the beach all the way. We started at 7 a.m., so as to §et round the rooks before the tide was too high; but it was no good. On one point the waves were washing against the cliffs, and as we would get wet going round, the coaches (there were two, the mail coach happened to be going that day) went round, and all the passengers got out and walked about two miles over the hill. But this was nothing to what we had to go over. For a distance of a. mile the coaches had to go over hugh boulders and rocks. Needless to say, >we got out. It seemed every moment as if the coaches must go over; indeed, the inside wheels of our coach lifted high up several times. We were all terrorised, and very thankful when the last of the boulders was traversed. A little further on the mail coach, which was in front of us, had a break-down. The main swingletree broke 1 . Luckily «i carpenter was on board ; he got out his tools, and as there was nothing else fox it, commandeered' some wood and wire off someone's fence. He soon ha,d it put right, and we started on again, reaching Tolago Bay without any more mishaps, . * ,> Tolag& is m little odantry township on the coast. I am sure I don't know what it is famous for, unless, indeed, Maoris, and the -coast is thick with them. Talking of Maoris, I sfliall tell you of my very first experience of them. We were fresh from the South Island — Dunedin, in fact — and; Maoris were unknown beings to us, and this incident amused us greatly. We were all seated at dinner, when a verj: much tatooed ao<i be-

greenstonecl but well-drossel Maori woman cf huge proportions came in, and with the air of a duchess sat down, took up, her knife, an,d banged the table loud enough almost to be heard all over the building. She wanted to be attended to. Of course, we grinned pretty broadly, and as my sister's grin was the broadest, the Maori woman fixed her with a stony gaze. All the occupants of the table were in tits. The waitress went behind the screen to laxigh, but we pcor mortals had to try to stifle our laughter as best we could; and it was a very sorry job, I'm afraid. Goodness! would the woman never stop gazing? It was getting hot. At last we could stand it no l-onger, and had to go out of the room before we insulted her by laughing outright. Once outside the room, we gave vent to our merriment, and, in fact, we laughed over it for days. . Well, I must get on. The next day, Friday, ' we started off for Tokomaru— a distance of 35 j miles. Such roa<l3! Well, they weren't roads, . but just a succession of holes, axle deep in clay mud, and we floundered and bumped ■ through it all. Some holes had bottom, and ; some hadn't, and to make it worse, it came on " to rain. Well, in the course of five and a-half j hours we reached Tokomaru. Like Tolego, ; it is situated on the beach. The number of ' Maoris that gathered round was amazing — ' Msoris of all ages and sizes. Next to the post ! office is a large meeting house, and they all j congregate there. The next plaoe we visited - was W aipiro Bay. As usual, when the coach i arrived, it v/as besieged with Maoris. Half- j way between the two places is Te Puai, where j there are hot springs — exactly the same kind ! of springs as at Rotorua, only on a very small j scale. As we have been in all the New Zealand j hot springs, of course we had a dip in these."! My. weren't they hot! We were nearly boiled, and looked like lobsters when we appeared J again. The road after leaving Te Puai was awful. The clay (not mud) was past the horses' girths, and the poor animals cou'd hardly pull the j ooach through. We got out, and walked round, j aaid not knowing the country, got a long way j out of our course, and climbed over the top of j a very steep hill when we could have walked round on level. ground. Tuparoa was our next , pla-ce. It is the farthest north we went, and is very near the East Cape. When a mile or ■ two out on the roaa we met a -niaori with a ' bucketful of lovely red apples. He was evident >y on his way to Waipero, but he didn't ■ get that far, for we relieved him of the apples. He was very cunning ; over the top of the bucket he had wire netting, 'xhe are , very impulsive, and will take anything out of i your hand ; but he was ready for them, and ' they would not take French leave of his apples. : Our driver, Oswald by name (we called him ! Osie for short), who was a very nice young fel- ; low, jumped off the coach and offered him a ] price. The Maori wanted 5s for the bucketful. We offered him 2s 61 for half. He closed with : ibis, put the bucket on the ground, counted . the apples, and gave us half. Then Osie^offered I him 2s for the other half, so we had^apples ! enough to last us a week ; but they didn't last that time. , Halfway is % Maori settlement called Jeru- ! ealem. It has a Maori name which means • Jerusalem. To get there one has to cross the . river 25 times in 12 miles. That river should ; have been called the Jordan. This is an en- ' tirejy Maori settlement; the only European . family for some miles is the schoolmaster's. ' The schoolmaster had asked us to stop and haive a cup of tea with them, so we pulled up there, and were met by the gentleman him- , self, who had been on the lookout for- us. He introduced us to -his wife and family, and they very kindly gave us a cup of tea. A coach and five is a very great event in these parts, , and the Maoris quickly gathered round to see the "menagerie.' The schoolmaster spoke to then in their ' own language, and told fhem that we would play them a tune before we left. , Instantly their tongues were loosened (they are never tied up at any time), and they, , shouting and gesticulating, soon brought the entire village to the school. Oh, what a noise! about 100 tongues going at once, and Maori tonguea do go. After having tea and' chatting for a while, we got out our instruments and played for them. They crowded round the house, and danced and jumped about ', and grinned. They were delighted, and made j quite a fuss of us. As we were "getting into the coach a young Maori girl gave me a lovely feather kit. I was quite taken by surprise, for I had. not' taken any notice of her except \o give her a smile and a. nod. However, it was a very pleasant surprise. Well, eventually ws took leave of the hospitable schoolmaster and his family, promising to rest there and have ; lunch with them on our return journey — two : days later. The rest of the journey went • smoothly enough; the roads were not qxiite so ; bad!. In one place the road is in the riverbed ! for about half a mile. We went round a cliff . in the water, and the swingletree was scraping , both sides of the bank. I have not told you ' about the pigs. They caused us ai lot of j amusement. The whole countryside seemed to I be swarming with pigs of all sizes, and they ' ■were co fat. i Returning on the Tuesday, we again stopped ■ at the schoolmaster's, and they had lunch ; ready for us. This time they took us into the j school, and the Maori ohildren. sang for us. | They seemed to be fond of their singing, and ; sang lustily. In two or three pieces they j cleverly sustained four parts in perfect tune, i In a school, one naturally expects to see rows j of European children, and it looks so funny to see rows of dark-skinned ones instead, and such comical faces some of them have. We were now on the return journey to Gisborne. From Waipiro to tJie springs we had a team of eight horses. The weather had been fine, ! but the bad place was far worse now, for the | clay had got very sticky; but the strength of eight good horses pulled the coach through. When we came to bad places we got out and walked — it eased the load for the horses and exercised our limbs. Nothing much happened till the Friday, going from Tolcga to Gisborne, the last atage of our journey. This day we had our very first accident, and it considerably frightened 139. We were leaving at 7 o'clock in the- morningto get over the rocks before the tide -was in. Well, we were tip and ready before 7, and just as it was time for the coach | to be along, Osie came and told us that we ' could not go. There was a ferry in the middle J of the township, and the ferryman, who had : been having a jollification the night before, j forgot to lower the punt with the tide, and there it was, high and dry on the sand, and j we had. to wait for the next tide to shift it, ! after staying awake half the ni^ht to be up ! in time in the morning! Oh, it was cruel! ! Well, we got away at 11 o'clock, with 36 miles ] and those boulders in front of us. The day be- ! fore had been wet, and the creek had swollen Tip. A low gig went in front of us, and it was almost out of sight. Arriving on the other side they saw a saddle and a few other things which were on the floor of the gig, floating away. Didn't we laugh. It was too funny to see the young fellow fishing his luggage out with a* stick, and my brother snapshotted him while doing co. The first stage of our journey | was got over without any mishap, and a halt was made for dinner. When we got to the boulders, we found that the tide was not low enough to enable us to drive on the beach, so we hfA to take to the bowlders again; brat it was not quite so bad this time, as the coach .could get a little lower down. -, Everything was aill right j we were on the , last beach, and were reckoning on getting into Gisborne in an hour, when our first acciden* happened. Our driver, Osie, whipped up the horses, when one gave a jump, and the bolt on the main swingletree broke, falling on the three iront horsea' hind lesa. They were off

like a shot. Osie, trying to pull them in, was jerked over the side. He w«nt to jump clear, but hig leggings caught on the brake, and he fell on his head, and doubled right over. It was a miracle that hij neck wasn't broken. He did not Ihmk ol himself, however, but of the* worses, for they had by this time bolted into the water, and in an instant he wag in the water after them. He staggered, and nearly fell but by this time others from the mail coach (which luckily happened to be only a. few yards in front of us) were there to lend their help. We were afraid Osie was badly hurt, but he came to after a biit, a.nci in about, half an hour was able to drive again. It all happened so quickly. Directly the three leaders got away, father rushel forward and held the polers' heads, for had they, too, taken fright, we would have baen in a nice fix. & ' while before this we had been singing comio , songs, and one was, "I fell off the 'bus." The ! remainder of the journey was very miserable. ' Poor Osie could hardly sit up, and w-e wers . all really alarmed. Gisborne was reached at , 7 o'clock, and very glad we were to get there. "' It was a, sad ending to otherwise a very enjoyi able trip. The one team of horses did the ! whole trip, over 200 miles, which I think was. > wonderful. ! Now, Dot, I must stop. When lam wound I up I take a, long time to run down. 'As it is '. not likely that I shall be writing again before ! Christmas, I will wish you, Dot, the editor. > and all the little folk a merry Christmas and ! a happy New Year. I hope to call and see you. | myself nest February. — Yours tru'y, I ANGELESEA. j [A wish which is heartily reciprocated by • everyone connected with the page, including^ i the editor, Angelesea. We shall all be pleased to see you down south once more, even if it i» j only for a short time. — Dui.]