A REMINISCENCE

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume LXXXIII, Issue 19732, 29 December 1926, Page 8

A REMINISCENCE

OF WANGANUI RIVER SOME SCENES OF BEAUTY The 11 Evening Post,” Wellington, publishes the following article, described as a reminiscence of Mr .J. C. Anjderson during an expedition for collectjing Maori songs, folklore, etc., from ; the M'aoris of the Wanganui Buyer:— ! A view at Pipiriki made us realise i what the Wanganui, and the hilly counItry of the North Island generally, !might become in the years to be. I I stood part way up one bank, land looked i towards a homestead on the far side. I The house was on a flat above, the river, i with a gently graded approach from !the river—the main highway for miles and miles of country. At the landing lay two long graceful river canoes, with taper ends and graceful sheer, a smaller one on the near bank, used by the children coming from school. There was a good deal of cultivated land, all in excellent order. There was a Itarge orchard, where fine pears were grown, and, of course, luxurious peaches. The flat sloped gently up the hill for some distance, covered with good green pasture, where sheep were feeding. The hills behind were green as with fern. The spur at the back of that agiain was covered with, lace-like tree-ferns; next to that an area of manuka, and. then mixed bush.

It was a long relach, and up the river the cliffs fell sheer to the water, draped with fern, and bush above. A gorge came down from either side of the river where two crocks debouched. There were many kowhai trees, and it must bo lovely here in springtime. As usual, willows lined the banks in broken i clumps, and populars towered here land there—beautiful things. On this day (in April) one was entirely pale gold, and one near it partly greeu, partly yellow and gold. There is a pa-tuna hway up the river ■in sight at the cliffs, to which I walked slowly along this delightful pathway. I felt the beauty of the scene extremely, and thought of Milton’s lines:— Sometimes, with secure delight, The upland hamlets will invite. The Wanganui will some dtay be full iof upland homes at any rate, and the valley will be one of the most beautiful in the world—at any rate, I cannot imagine how others dan be lovelier; and the sunshine, clear and warm on the I dewy morning, made all perfect. The I best way of getting the full beauty of j the river is certainly by 'wandering i along on foot. The track was narrow, i often very slippery, land along sheer faces here and there—civilisation would soon improve that—but perhaps improve away some of the national wildness of the beauty, too. The growth on both sides of the track added to the attractiveness; and whilst thiat on the river side seldom hit the view, it often framed it in varied glimpses of beauty. What summer holiday could be better spent than in hiring a canoe with one or two Maori youths as paddlers and polers perhaps, pladd] e up and down these reaches, staying a day here, a day there, so as to get above the river and sec its beauty in all aspects. There would be some ptain, where good slopes rise naked of green and charred by fire, gaunt trunks stretching their branches like arms to heaven, but some consolation to see what lovely homes may take the place of the desolation; one betiuty destroyed for the creation of another. Another scene when we left Hiruharama after gathering much ethnilogical material. There is no wharf; the river stefamer simply edges in, and you walk the plank. Its time of coming depends upon the rapids, and whilst we sat waiting some of the young women crooned a little parting song: — Haere Whai i to hiahia, Kaua e mahara mai, Waiho au kia tangi no, Haere Whai, haere ra. (Go thou, Whai, to thy desire, Never more remember me Sitting here without and weeping, Go then, Whai, ftirewell, farowell.) And whilst the words said one thing, the intonation and accompanying glances said the opposite. Then the waving when the boat took us off; the farewell cries “Haere ra! h<aer e ra! ” continued till we turned the bend. Warm and kindly hearts, where memory lingered. Incidentally Whai, or Whairoa. is my name with them as a tohunga of string-figures. Maori maid with the liquid glances, Where are you glancing now? Swinging your poi-balls, dancing your dances, Where are you dancing now! Dong . . . dong .... Dong . . . dong .... Hark! in the eve is it bells ars ringing? No; in the eve it is bell-birds singing; Ah ... in the eve my thoughts are winging Over the hills to you. Maori maid, when the games are over, Where do your girl-thoughts turn? Little I thought when I learned to be lover How it would pain to unlearn! Dong . . . dong. . . . Dong . . . dong. . . . | Hark! in the eve is it bells arc ringing? (No; in the eve it is bellbirds singing—‘Ah ... in the eve should love come ' clinging, I What would you say or do? [Maori maid, where the summer ends not, j Is there an end to love? I Oh, when the heart beats true and pretends not, How can it faithless prove? Dong . . . dong. . . . Dong . . . dong. . . . Hlark! in the eve is it bells are ringing? No; in the eve it is bell-birds singing; Ah ... in the eve are tue sky stars bringing , Bringing a lover .to wool