FIRST WHITE BABY.

Taranaki Daily News, 17 January 1923, Page 5

FIRST WHITE BABY.

IN EARLY NEW PLYMOUTH.

OLD TIMES RECALLED, MR. H. NEWLAND’S MBIORTES. Tn the early days of NevJ Plymouth, when Devon Street was but 1 track ana the tui and makomako heralded the dawn with peals of song, tflere nestled alongside the Mangaotuku, ’ somewhere about where Paul’* brewery now stands, a tent constructed of tarpaulins anti saplings hewn from the vh'gin bush. The site and the structure would be but incidentals in keeping with the times were it not that they have a greater claim in the history of the toxfrn, for these humble surrounding* were - the birthplace of the first white boy bom in New Plymouth. The year was 1842, and the month August, when Mt. Henry Newland first saw the light of day, and now, after the passage of over 80 years, he is still hale and hearty and takes a daily constitutional over the vastly changed scenes he remembers as a boy. Mr. Newland’s father was a Devon man, his mother a London girl, and when they came ashore at New Plymouth from the Minnie Thompson in September, 1841, the “wilderness were Paradise''enow.” So Mrs. tfewland described it in later years to her family, for the weather was wondrous kind, greeting the new arrivals with six weeks of sunshine in which to build a home. The tarpaulins were brought from England, the native bush and strong arms provided the supports and rough furniture, and in tbo heavy -work of carving out a permanent home, the tediousness and discomforts of the long voyage to the new settlement were forgotten. Not much of this, however, does Mr. Harry Newland remember, but he can recall the construction by some natives of a raupo addition-to the home, and the fact that all the dwellings of the time were of a similar nature to that of his parents. . OLD LANDMARKS GONE. The New Plymouth of Mr. Newland’s boyhood days was a very different place from the expanding town of to-day and provided a fascinating playground for the youth of the period. Up above the home on the Mangatuku rose Mt. Eliot, a landmark since removed to meet the needs of the growing town. .With it went all trace of the old Maori pah from 'which an old tatooed chief of flercesome aspect used to emerge to the awe of young Newland and his companions. On tlie town side of the convent was a deep gully, a natural way for a babbling brook, which, like Mt. Eliot, has also faded from view, while behind Newton King’s in Devon Street was a swimming pool of some depth. Here it was that Mr. Newland had his second encounter with Bishop Selwyn. The first was when the Bishop ImptUed him in the old St. Mary’s Church in Currie Street, the first baptism solemnised by Bishop Selwyn in New Plymouth.

On the second occasion young Newland, then a small bo.y, was watching his elders disporting themselves in the cool 'depths of the pool. The Bishop, wise man, summed up the situation in a glance. “Come on, strip! 11l take you across,” he said. In a trice the lad had divested himself of his clothes, easily racing the renowned prelate in that direction. Then, with the boy on his back, the Bishop started a leisurely swim across the pool. It was good ftin, until, the middle reached, the Bishop suddenly dived. There was much spluttering and splahing, but after that young Newland could swim. “DICKIE” BARRETT RECALLED. Another incident of Mr. Newland’s boyhood days is worth recalling. At that time “Dickie” Barrett had his whaling station at Moturoa and the boiling down operations were a source of never ending interest to small boys and grown-ups alike. Barrett used to keep a look-out on. Paritutu, whence he signalled to the boats’ crews on the beach the presence of a whale in the vicinity. One Sunday, when Mr. Newland. was about four years of age, his father took him down to the station to see a large whale which had been captured, and, to impress on his young mind the size of the monster, *he made him walk on its back from tail to head. Scared? Young Ncwlands was, but to this day his impression of that whale is still vivid. The passing years brought gradual changes in the town, though the bullock wagons still made heavy work of negotiating the mud of Devon Street. Pedestrians were assisted by the depositing of loads of sand at the street crossing, and it is interesting to recall that a. strata of this sand came to light during some excavations in Brougham Street recently. ' THE MAORI WAR. And then came the war with the Maoris. •Seventeen years of age, Mr. Newland joined up with the Taranaki Volunteers, then transferred to Captain (afterwards Sir Harry) Atkinson’s Rangers, and later to the Mounted Troops. Those were strenuous days, guarding first of all the palisade wliicli surrounded the young town, with its gates in Devon Street near the* -PostOffice and at Liardet Street. Then block houses became the rule, with four nights a week on picket. But to describe all Mr. Newland’s adventures in the war would require a volume. He served in every engagement, having many close calls, and gave yeoman service to his country. He was with Captain William King many times before he was killed and it was due to that officer’s disregard of a warning given him that Maoris were in the vicinity of Frankleigh Park that he met his death. Of Captain Atkinson Mr. Newland speaks with warm regard. With all this proud record of achievement behind him Mr.'Newland is now taking a well earned rest. Physically and mentally he is as young as any man half his years. He still reads without glasses, and it was while fie was enjoying his pipe and book yesterday that a Daily News reporter persuaded him to recount the story of the early days. The story told, Mr. Newland put away his book and walked along Devon Street, pointing out spots of interest and making huniarous reflections on the customs of the present day.