MANAWATU TO PALMERSTON.

Wellington Independent, Volume XXVI, Issue XXVI, 28 July 1871, Page 3

MANAWATU TO PALMERSTON.

(Frosi a Coerespondent.)

Having beard from many sources of this fur-famed district, and of the works at present going on there, I determined to risk the dangers of the road, of which I was previously warned, and see for myself. Accordingly, having obtained what is usually termed here a good mud horse, that is, an animal capable of carrying a heavy weight in mud up to his girths, and having also learnt on what day I should have company, without which no person ever travels on this road, I made a final start from Langley's hospitable roof on Friday morning. Through three miles of lakes, running streams, lagoons, sandhills, and swamps I made my way to the illustrious township of Foxton, where I found my compactions de voyage all in readiness for the journey. I suggested the procuriug of some aqzca vitac previous to starting, as I discovered that nothing of the kind could be procured until we arrived at our destination, twenty-five miles away, which suggestion was immediately carried into eifect, and our pocket p ; stols duly replenished. The wisdom of this course of action we quickly discovered, and I should advise every traveller by this road to go and do likewise, as he will find the want of a stimulant before he has travelled many miles. We finally got under weigh — a parly of three — by half-past ten, and were advised by our guide not to let the grass grow under our horses' feet when the road was good, as

we should have plenty of walking to do afterwards. Verily he spoke truly.

. Away we cantered across that dreary, k sterile district forming part of the sheep '^runs of Captain Robinson, of Manawatu, and Messrs Jacob Joseph & Co., of Wellington. The flax mill erected by Messrs Loudon and Port, on our right, stood silent and alone, no signs of industry or life near it. I learnt that it had been closed up for some time, and had turned out a most unprofitable and unfortunate speculation. Ridge after ridge we passed, every now and then pausing ae our horses sank knee deep in the soft and treacherous swamps. A more cheerless, dreary prospect I never remember to have seen. A few tufts of scanty herbage here and there, all else stunted scrub and fern, flax and toi-toi, on which a few wretched looking and half wild sheep, that fled like deer at our ap-

proach, managad to pick up a bare and scanty subsistence. And this is part of tho far-famed Manawatu block, about which so many discussions and such warm and animated koreros have taken place. Verily, if it is all like this Ido not envy the fortunate possessors thereof. After about a six miles' ride through country of this kind, we came to a finger-post, shewing, with one hand the road to Ikngitikei, and with the other that to Palmerston. That to Palmerston appeared plain enough, and could not easily be mistaken, but where the road to Rangitikei lay, or which direction to take, required a person with the bump of localities more fully developed than mine. Our guide seeing my puzzled look when gazing in the direction of the Rangitikei finger-post, remarked, " Yes ; that's the road to Rangitikei, but never try it alone — you would never reach there ;" and when I viewed that bleak waste of sand hill, fern land, and swamp, I did not doubt his assertion. At this post we turned sharp to the right, when both the road on which we travelled, and the land on both sides of it, very perceptibly improved, and, indeed, could capital and accompanying labor be brought to bear on this portion of the block what is noiv a mere chain of deadly swamps, which would not now boar the weight of a cat on their treacherous surfaces, would soon be converted into rich grass-covered Hats capable of carrying valuable herds of cattle and sheep, or of growing rich crops of grain and roots. What is now little better thau a morass and a wilderness, supporting no life beyond a few wild birds, would rapidly assume the appearance of a rich and smiling garden, with its cheerful farm houses dotting the landscape here and there, and supporting a'large population of thrifty and industrious settlers. On this portion of the block there are some very beautiful clumps of bush, mostly round or oval shaped, but, unfortunately, entirely surrounded by the everlasting swamps on all sides, through which man nor beast ever dare venture. In my mind's eye I faucicd this country subdued by the power and perseverance of man ; 1 pictured to myself a smiling landscape, a farm house on yon pretty slope, that treacherous morass a rich and blooming field of grain ; and my fancy wandered on, till, methoughr, I could hear the merry songs of children, the lowing of cattle, the bleating of sheep, and the cheerful voices of men engaged at their daily labor, til! my reverie was rudely disturbed by the sharp bark of my guide's little terrier, which had started a wild cat from its lair. Quickly pursuing, he soon worried it to death, and reminded me that I was indulging in idle dreams, and that I was still in the wilderness, from which the country would never be redeemed till, it was possessed by hard working bona fide settlers, and not as now all in the hands of a ftw indifferent runholders, who care nought for the future of a district, so long as it serves them for their few years of lease. But I must proceed with my journey, and cease digressing, or you will not have space for my matter. On we went for another four or live mi'es, with little or nothing to vary the monotony of the way. As we rode in Tndian file along the narrow track, sometimes along the top of a ridge, now up a steep hill, now through a gully or across a soft sand flat, passing every here and there a deserted and decaying roadman's hut, which only added to the general loneliness and cheerlessness of the whole prospect, till at last we arrived at " The Bridge." "The Bridge of Sighs," it might, I think, be very appropriately termed, for I am sure many a deepdrawn sigh, and equally deep, though perhaps not go loud, execration has been vented in its neighborhood ; for here the passable road ends, and the " slough of despond" commences. x\n accommodation-house stands here, which appears to be doing a fair trade. Bunks are erected in a sleeping room, identically similar with those on board an emigrant ship. But, to do the place justice, you can obtain a good wholesome feed for self, and ditto for horse, and both at a reusonable rate. Our guide, however, would not allow us to remain for either, remaiking, "Now boys, our gallupping is over, our next twelve miles is a slow walk, and if you don't want to be out all night, come on." So on we went, our horses turning wistful glances at the well-known feedingboxes, fastened on stumps in the clearing. The road here runs through the bush, and, with wet weather, constant traffic, till all except horsemen can no longer proceed, is in such a state that it is utterly beyond my powers of description to give even an idea of its real condition. Before I had gone throe miles, I would have given five pounds to have been safe at Foxton again. Seriously, I never expected to get over that interminable twelve miles without an accident to life or limb. Fancy, if you can, a road, level as a rail way, without the slightest fall for water for miles, except into the drains on either side, which in many places had overflown and deluged it to perhaps the depth of several feet, and this cut up by bullock drays, packhorses, sledges, and horsemen till it is one floating quaking sea of moving clny, floating logs, andj:!ebris of one kind and another. Through this slimy treacherous road your poor horse slowly drags his weary way — every now and then pausing to get his wind, and again splashing on through mud and trunks of trees till you think he must succumb and leave you where you are. Sometimes all his four legs are fast in the roots and holes beneath the surface, and his belly and nose are the only purchases with which he can work himself free again. With a frantic struggle, and a plunge so violent that it takes you all your time to keep your saddle — up he flounders again, snorting and trembling, stands for a moment to regain his fast waning strength, and then urged on by spur and whip, plunges on only to struggle as before. Such is the journey the whole twelve weary miles, and the

last four the worst of all. Your readers will, 1 am sure, think this an overdrawn picture, but I can assure them that no words of mine could do justice to such a road.