HAPPY THOUGHTS IN NEW ZEALAND.

Thames Star, Volume VII, Issue 1978, 7 May 1875, Page 2

HAPPY THOUGHTS IN NEW ZEALAND.

I must have been sitting in my chair for some time. I daresay I have been buried in thought, for I suddenly rouse myself and find myself alone. I hare still my note-book in my hand, but I can't quite make out what I have vrritten down, and the writing is not so straight as it might be. The waiter, to whom I appeal, informs me that the other gentlemen have been gone some time, and that luncheon is over. I don't mind that, as I don't feel the least bit hungry, on the contrary, rather sleepy, and not at all poetical. I remember now, I had intended (that was before I sat down in my chair to think) to go to Par ; there is plenty of time still, and it is a lovely afternoon, only rather hot. Happy thought! Ask the way to go there now! As I don't know the full name of the place I am obliged to ask the waiter the way to that other place he told me of. He sajs that any of these turnings to the right will take me there, but adds, if you take the one furthest up you can go straight down a "beautiful" street. Happy thought! take the one furthest up. I ask the name of this beautiful street, and" the waiter replies (I think) Pollard-street. Odd name for a street, but perhaps -they sold bran: there formerly, or kept rabbits, or did something of that sort. However, I start for Pollard-street, and take the turning " furthest up." i ■ I am disappointed "with Pollard-street after the waiter's eulogy; of course I did not expect to see the ' High-street at Oxford, or the Rue de JKivoli, or Prince'sstreet, Edinburgh, but to say the least of it. the waiter must have a very imaginative mind to class Pollard-street under the head of beautiful. The pavement, where there is any, for it is far from being continuous, is like the one to Tar—— made of wood, and ;the road, betrays the-same'propensity, to set its back up. Happy thought! Quote Hamlet (to myself)—" It is backed like a weasel." . The road falls off rapidly at each side. Happy thought! (Hamlet again)—"O! what a falling off was there," and to obviate the difficulty which passengers must experience who wish to cross from one side of the road to the other, a series of small bridges have been constructed, built, of course, of wood, and with the planks (of course) some distance from each other. Igo a considerable distance along this beautiful street without seeing .anything of very great importance, except that I notice more philanthropic drapers. I notice, too, that omnibuses, or what are meant for them, go along Pollen street, the.pace not being " fast; " although the horses seem as if they well understood the meaning of that word used in another sense. I meet some equestrians invariably cantering, trotting seeming to be a pace not indulged in at the goldfields, and then come to the end of the street, which here diverges—as the guide books say, or would say if there were guide books here—in three different directions. At this corner there are assembled a great many of what I suppose Miss Tox would call " the Natives; " and they certainly present a very incongruous appearanco; in fact, it is hard in some instances for a stranger at first glance to tell which are male, and which female. Both sexes are, I should say, equally fond of brilliant colours; both are equally bootless and shoeless, and seem to have a decided liking for tobacco. 1 don't know which" of tb c tnree ways leads to Par——, anditjis no use asking those Natives. Happy thought! Policeman over the way, ask him. He says—" straight off j here; follow the road and you cant miss it." I ask him if it (meaning Par )is much of a town ? He replies : "No ! there aint much of a town to speak of? " And I subsequently find he is quite right. I find myself suddenly in the country; and the walk, so far, has certainly done me good, for I once more begin to feel j poetical and buoyant, and resume my nota-book. The first thing I notice are | the bridges along the road; the people who. design them must have been of a very economical turn of mind, for they are reduced to the smallest possible size, and only occupy the very middle of the road, leaving a large chasm on each side, into which the unwary night traveller might easily fall. Had Tom Carlyle seen them they would certainly have suggested a hew' idea to put into his work on " Cheap and Nasty." The houses are not built on any given pla», but are dotted down anywhere, and remind me forcibly of a game I used to play when a very small boy at school, where each boy had to try and get behind another j tbat is, supposing the front houses were built first; if the last, houses were built first they would, of course, all be trying to get in front of eacfi other. I meet several Natives, who speak to me, but I don't know what they say. Now, I wish I could speak to them. Happy thought! Try some mutual language. I remember being told at home, that if you knew French you could go. all over the world. I will try French on the next Native. I have not "long to wait, for the next turn of the road (how these roads do turn; wonder, if I had followed the policeman's advice and gone straight, where I should have gone to?) brings mo face to face with a Native, evidently a woman, clad in a quiet red and yellow dress, with a trifle of blue here and there, to give it, I suppose, piquancy. Now for my French. I stop. She stops; she smiles. I say, Dites-moi, on voules-vous aller ? It suddenly strikes me that this.- ,is the beginning of a French song; but it does not matter, because, if she knows French, she will know what I mean and then we can converse. I remember though that in the song, after the words Bites max, \ there came Jthe words Ma jeune belle, but of course I can't say that, as she certainly is not jeune, and no one in his wildest dreams would think of calling her.&ei'fc. Sho evidently does not understand French, but answers me all the game. I don't know what she says, but as she. extends a hand of very doubtful purity, I suppose she. means me to shake hands. Happy thought! My right hand glove. We separate, I with the intention to abstain from French. I seem a long time coming to Par , but as the walk seems doing mo good, and as I have come so far, I had better go on. Idogo on until I come to a placo where the road ends, a 1: least, thoro is nothing but a hill in front, up which no vehicle with springs could ever go. I

must have come the wrong road, as this certainly leads nowhere. Wonder how far it is to the town of Par——. Happy thought! Sit down and rest, anrl imke notes. Happy thought! Employ myself in writing a descriptive poem on New Zealand scenery to fit into my book. I can, as I don't know the names of the places, write it in a skeleton form, and fill in the names when I know them. I feel poetical, but it is very hard to begin. I feel that if I could once start I could go on. I can't get farther than O ! River. Happy thought. Try again. O ! river, thou, whose silver stream Reflected beck the sun's bright beam— That will do, for although the tide is out and the river looks more like a mud flat than a silver stream, yet people in England won't know,that. Go on. Called by those who dwellUpon thy verdant bau!.s they love so well. Tbat, really, is not bad. Of course^tt must putin the name in the blank spdfl^p I hope it's an easy one to spell. I can'F get on any. farther, and I feel rather cramped, so I will go to the nearest house and ask the way. I can't say to Par , so I ask the way to the town. The man whom I ask says, what town ? I don't know what town. Happy thought. Say Par boldly and mutter the rest. The man understands me and says, "Why, all this is it." Oh! so there's no town, and I've come all this way for nothing. I see one of the omnibuses a little war on. I feel awfully tired. Wonder if he'd take me- back. ' I explain to the driver where I want to go. He says he can take me. Happy thought. Go home in a 'bus. ■ - ■ -' - •-.-,*',_ - Happy . thought, (in . prospective)— dinner, slippers, newspaper, and bed.