MRS. ELLIS ROWAN'S VISIT TO TARANAKI.

Taranaki Herald, Volume XLIII, Issue 9968, 3 April 1894, Page 2

MRS. ELLIS ROWAN'S VISIT TO TARANAKI.

« OLD MEMORIES REVIVED. The following is a continuation of the very interesting account Mrs Ellis Rowan has written of her visit to Taranaki, which appears in the Sydney Town ami Country Journal of March 24.th. The paper is illustrated with views of " The Waterworks," showing the steps leading up from the dam to the reservoir, " Parihaka," " Pungarehu," " Yen. Archdeacon Govett's residence," and " Te Ngutu-o-te-Manu," and the cross showing the spot where Major Von Tempsky and others were killed. The following is Mrs Rowan's article: — I had several beautiful drives round New Plymouth before leaving, and lastly went to see the waterworks of the town, on the "Waiwakailio River, first passing up the Devon line, where here and there a good-bye was said ; then along an English-looking lane with tall hedges on both sides, past the old hospital — a picturesque Elizabethanlooking old house, which is now turned into an Old Man's Home ; up the hill again to the cemetery, where another monument stands out against a dark background of pines marking the spot of those who were cruelly murdered at the White Cliffs. Now from a height we looked down upon the clear pebbly river below with its water-race and endless ladder of wooden steps leading to it, which we did not descend. With our faces turned homeward here and there through the green hills we caught glimpses of the homely-looking little town, and round a sunny corner a Maori cart was standing. What a subject for an artist ! The man with his brown face and brawny arms, she with the sunlight all coming through her hatless head of tangled, tawny-colored hair, and her eastern-patterned dress a wondrous mass of greens, yellow, and blues. A little child, in his bright crimson dress, on his hands and knees, was drinking at the stream, whilst all through the twisted stems of tne interwoven foliage the lichens and ferns were turned to gold as the sun went down One more goodbye at the corner of the dear old church, and I passed through the gate into the rest and quiet of the pretty parsonage garden. At 8 next morning am on my way again. We had had three of the hottest days that had been known for many years in Ne\v Plymouth. The thermometer was 93deg in the shade, and it was unbearably wurm in the train, and so dusty that we looked as if we had been well peppered before we had gone a mile of the way. The one long carriage was crowded. One of the bank managers introduce me to Mr and Mrs AY.. from Sydney, who were travelling with their two sons and pretty daughter, who was as bright to look at us she was to talk to. At Sentry Hill a crowd of natives covered the platform, selling strawbenies in neat little green Uax baskets. " Only one shilling," they cried, and they looked so temptingly cool that we all bought some, but found them quite tasteless. At Hawera we wished each other good-bye. As I left the carriage the guard, an old soldier in my husband's regiment, the 4Hrd, addressed me by name and reminded me that close to the train line we had pissed through his tarm. which years ago my husband had s>old for for 10s. an acre, and which was now worth £•20. Several other old soldiers came to meet me on the road, some of them now well-to-do farmers, and one with his carriage and good pair of horses insisted on driving me to Mr. L's farm, the best and largest in the district, which would, in richness, vie with the fairest English one. I went all over the pretty garden there and into the orchard, where the apple trees were laden with fruit, and two crab apple trees were breaking down with tho weight of their crimson berries. I made my lunch off junket and thick Devonshire cream, and did not wonder when the two visitors there from Napier told me that they had gained a stono in weight in one month. There everything was home grown and home made. I went on thence by coach, promising to return on my way buck. We went through rich pasture lands the whole way, passing through the town of Manaia. In the principal street is a largo monument raised to the memory of Major Von Tempsky, Captains Buck, Hunter. Palmer, and many others, who were shot by -natives at Te Ngutu-o-te-Manu. Later on I went to see the spot where my husband was also wounded, and a large white cross lias been erected where they fell, and the place fenced in and made into a Government reserve. It was a very rough drive to Opunake, and the slippery box se;'t was so high that my feet dangled in mid air, and I slipped and slid and bumped for miles until we changed horses and coach. Here the seat was easier, but f the round loose stones on tho rough road churned us up in a most uncomfortable manner. It was nearly seven when we reached Opunake. It-had been an oppressively hot day, and the air was heavy with dense smoke from bush fires. The mn went down like a ball of fire, and the little coast town was all coleur dr row for me, for here I met my best friends in New Zealand (Major and Mrs. T.) and had I been a man I would have left my heart behind me with those two bright girls of theirs. Each day I felt less inclined to leave ; and each day, too, I saw a new charm in that happy family of children. They were all ages and all sizes, but each one seemed to fit in its place. They never overwhelmed or bored you, and even when painting it gave me a restful feeling when little Peggy sat behind me amusing me with her nice little sayings and her pure, wondering eyes that seemed to look into a world of their own. At one time during the war this was a very important town, and a groat many troops were stationed here. The remains or a very strong redoubt arc still here, and some of the old military buildings. .Some e^ en now predict a great future for this town : but at present it is not an exciting place by any moans to settle down in. Its only beauty is its mountain, for you sco Mount Egmont now from the other hide, and each night we watched tho moon in all her full-blown glory rise behind it. The largest native village in New Zealand, Parihaka, is ]f> miles from here. Here the great prophet Ti Wliiti lives. On the 17th of. every month he holds a great meeting, when the natives feast for several days. We were anxious to see this village, so -kg drove theve, luuching on the way with Mr Hickman, an old constabulary man, who is now sergeant of police at Pungarehu, a strong fortified redoubt during the war. Lord Onslow, on his way through New Zealand, had lunched here. Mr Hickman exhibited with great pride his photograph and signature which ho had afterwards sent him, and told us how he had praised his mutton as the best he had ever eaten ; and how '• put about" they had been at suddenly hearing they had to prepare lunch for his "Lordship" at an hour's notice, and no butcher's shop within " cooey." The old block house was very comfortable, and very cool too with its thickly cemented walls. The banks were ■•ill overgrown with honeysuckle and English flowers run wild, and home splendid karak* trees were growing on the edge of the old steep fortifications — ifc was only three miles from here to tho native village. Ti Wliiti would not comes out to us. I was determined to bee him, so we went down to a small enclosure where he was surrounded by about 2u of his followers, who never leave him, They were fine men ; but, they told us, probably the most troublesome ones in all New Zealand, and ready to do anything their chief may put them up to. There were some of them playing draughts ou tho bottom of an old box with shells and stones. One, an immense man was Gft 4in. I made him stand up to show me his height, but his arms wore as soft as putty. Thoe mou load a most idle life, doing nothing but sleeping and eating. Ti Whili, who is not a bad looking man, with a cunning but merry twinkle in his eye, has a grey beard and hair, und was dressed like a

Suropeau. He shook hands with us alls but beyond that paid no attention to us, and we left him. This old fellow has probably worked more mischief in New Zealand than any othe man in it He knows the Bible off by heart, and is very clever in turning each prophecy to his own way of thinking. In '82 lie was taken prisoner for rebellion and shut up for two years, and again a year or two ago for debt, when he refused to attend when he was summoned. It seems strange that he should have retained his power over the natives for so long, for no prophecy of his in one single instance has come true, and he has a remarkable excuse always ready for accounting for it. He is alwajs going to raise the dead to life again, and year after year his followers go up with their bundles of clothes ready for the departing ones to put on when they emerge from their graves, and sweep all the white men off the face of New Zealand. The other chief here, Tohu, was at one time his most staunch ally, but they quarrelled, and have now formed themselves into two parties — those belonging to Ti Whiti wear a white feathor stuck in their hats or hair. At the present time a fierce quarrel is going on between them over a small piece of land a few feet square. Tohu built a house on it in his own part of the town. Ti Whiti said it was his land, and ordered his men to pull it down. When he found that he could not demand the land, as it belonged to the tribe, be commenced building another exactly in front of Tohu's European house, the largest in the ■ulliage, but which he only uses on State oceasious. He lives close by in a miserably, draughty whare, where we went to see him, and found him suffering from toothache, and looking very ill. He had taken the quarrel so much to heart that it will probably kill him. He hardly took any notice of us, but gave us the key to go over his house, which is divided inside into long eating rooms upstairs and down, with long tables and chairs and room for storing knives, forks, spoons, and dishes,, for since living in prison they adopted European ways, built their houses and sat in chairs on state occasions. The tillage would be a picturesque one if were not for these hideous incongruities in the way of buildings. Tho native whares are all huddled very closely together, and some of them we went into were beautifully made, one in particular, with a neat little garden round it, made us quite envious. The walls were made of raupo stems inside most evenly put together, and the floor all covered with well-made flax mats. Three really pretty girls were squatting inside, one making rush bags, and the other two cumbing and plating their thick black locks. Most of the others were uninviting with just one entrance, and a sickening smell of closeness pervaded them. The women congratulated Mrs T. on her well-grown kapai (good) daughters. Many of Ti Whiti's followers are deserting him, and this last meeting was the smallest that has been known for many years. He is kept well supplied always with money, but they spend it all in feasting. We went over the ground where 1800 troops were stationed here, the only remains left now to mark the spot are some overgrown English weeds, where there were once gardens, the foundations of the old stable, and the earthworks on top of the hill were the old redoubt overlooked the town. Before leaving we were invited to have some tea. A long table was spread with a cloth and plates of cakes and buns, tho butter being put carefully on the top of each ; tea without milk and a decanter of thick-looking wine, which we thought best not to try. We all did full justice to our repast, and after thanking them for their great kindness we shook hands with a great many of them and made our adieux. I forgot to say that they showed us their billiardroom, with a full-sized table, and hung round with scriptural pictures of the most garish description here and there. Among the wharps is one larger and more ornamented than the rest, where, in olden times, :he Tohunga (chief) lived sacred to them only. They used to have great power over the others, some of them having (.he power of ventriloquism and doctoring. Some of their decoctions made f i om astringent barks are valuable from their wonderfully healing properties. Like most other natives, in case of ■« ounds they use clay. Coming home we passed by the spot where poor Miss Dobie (sketching for the (-rrti/ih/r) was cruelly murdered by a native. The officers and men in the Constabulary have put up a white cross in the little graveyard here to her memory. One hot summer evening before leaving we picnicked under the shadow of Mount Egmont, on the edge of the river here, and under the shade of the great trees, forming a perfect canopy over us, we boiled our kettle and made " billy tea." 0. harnessed up the little pony in the carnage and drove home in the cool of the evening. Before leaving I went to see the flax mill at work here. There were stacks of silky looking bales ready for carting away, and the whole of the little Hat around was carpeted with Il:ix bleaching in the sun before its iin?l going through the mill. On the road back I stayed one night at Mr G.s farm. On 3000 acres they have 6000 sheep, 700 head of cattle, and 300 horses. The land is too rich for the farmer, and they find it best to overstock, they cannot keep the grass down, and their neighbors were glad to borrow their cattle to feed oil it. Butter factories are in every direction, and all the farmers tell you that this is the surest way of making money, though the constant milking is veiy hard work. For laboring men it is better to clear their own land, but for those who can afford to buy it ready cleared it brings in a return at once. The G-.'s drove me into Mr L.'s again, where I spent my promised evening. They were just finished shearing the lambs, and we watched their warm coats being taken off, find T asked him questions and learnt that each of those many bales I saw there was worth £ 1 4. Then I went to see the cows milked and drank more fresh milk, and probably put on an extra pound in weight, which I promptly lost again on the next long, hot railway journey. Ne\t morning Mr li. dro\e nio to ' sec the stone cross? at To Ngulu-o le-Manu, when I made a last sketch of it, then on to I lie train again, where several of tliu old soldiers wore waiting to si-o me and wish mo good-bye, then into tho slow dusty train again pu^t more grass-waving hills on to P.itca, quite an imposing looking town, whore I spent two very pleasant days sketching and idling away the hot hours in a garden scented with heliotrope jasmine, roses, everything growing in its own wild wealth of loveliness. Then'bn again to Wellington, a journey that seemed to know no ending, in a crowded dusty carriage.

Ten cars for the carriage of dairy produce on New Plymouth section arc, says tho Wellington Pout, to bo constructed at the Petono Railway Workshops for next' season. They are to be 1 oft waggons, with an outer and inner skin insulated with felt and paper, and allowing free circulation of air between the skins, and there will bo exhausters to take of heated air. The cars will carry six tons each.