MUSINGS and MEDITATIONS

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XL, Issue 2, 11 January 1908, Page 26

MUSINGS and MEDITATIONS

A BUSH PICNIC.

4 PICNIC in England is generally </g a very elaborate affair. The T 1 guests go in their smartest frocks / B and best clothes, and they are • driven along the smoothest of roads m brakes and waggonettes. Two or three servants are taken to get the luncheon and tea. and the magnificent hampers contain every imaginable appointment in the way of table ware and cutlery. Such functions are more like elaborate out of door dinner parties than genuine picnics. My mind goes back several years to my first experience of a real colonial bush picnic. I had not been long out froi i the old country, and my thoughts ran on the stiff and formal ceremonies associated with a drag for Lords or Epsom, the silk hats and frock-coats of the men, the elaborate gowns from Elise or Madame Andrewes of the women, the solemn footman opening champagne and handing round ii.uigestible mayonnaise, the mild flirtations and the silly chatter. I thought 1 was in for something a little different, but I did not suspect how different. Those who reproach us with not knowing how to enjoy ourselves ought to see the young New Zealanders out for the day. They would soon alter their opinion. My hosts had a large farm about two days’ ride from anywhere and by way of showing me a little of the colony, proposed a day's outing on the coast. I had not seen any signs of the sea near their place, but they assured me that it was no distance to the beach, and that the road was not so bad. I know- now what is meant by “no distance - ’ and “not so bad - ’ as applied to country places, but at the time I took the expression literally. We all got up about six and had an early breakfast, and then we had to run in the horses. This consisted in chasing them into a corner of a large paddock, and when we thought we had got them, seeing them break away again, and repeating the performance till we had caught the lot. There were six horses and about three good saddles and bridles, but we raked up some old gearout. of a lumber room, and by dint of much patching with string and flax and old sacks and sugar bags we managed to fix things up. It took a bit of time to decide who should ride which horse, as one horse called “Three Legs’’ was lame and another called Billy was qualifying for the old age pension, and was slow if stately in his movements. We were eight in party, and “Three Legs” and Billy had to carry a double load. It may have been true that the roads were not so bad, but we did not see much of the road, as our path lay mostly along what was called the track, 1 he track began with a big swamp and continued in a series of swamps. I was told it would get better soon, but the getting better consisted in climbing up what seemed as endless precipice and climbing down again, and then climbing another. Then we -truck a bullock road and had another scries of swamps, and t his was followed by dense scrub where no track was visible. I began to wonder what these good people would call a oad road. On the way we had been joined by a few others who had ridden over from distant farms, anil our party consisted e! about fifteen, seven of whom were girls. In jumping a ditch two girth straps broke, and again the everleady flax was brought into requisition. Aft r two hours’ riding I was told that w.‘ must be nearly half-way, which was distinctly encouraging. But when at last we got to the coast 1 felt that the view was well worth the perils of the journey. The rugged cliffs flanked by dene-’ l ush with scarcely a sign of human babitat.rn made a sight such as I had never seen before. We rode up to the •lily house vlrible to ask leave to pad-

dock our horses, but as there was no one at home we took French leave and turned them out on the grass. When the old chap the place belonged to turned up later on he said he was sorry he wasn’t at home when we arrived, as we could have put our horses into a paddock with better feed in it. How different from the English farmer who threatens to prosecute you if you so much as walk across his fields. Not without cause has the country settler in New Zealand got a name all over the world for openhanded hospitality. We had our lunch on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea under the shade of a large tree, and then wandered through the bush, and along the beach. One young fellow in a local corps had brought his rifle with him, and we amused ourselves with target practice. Then came a few games and tea, and the ride home. I was thoroughly tired when I got back, but the young people insisted on getting up a dance, and one young lady-, who for some reason or other was in particularly good spirits, said she felt as if she could dance all night. And now all these things have become a memory. ‘‘Three Legs” has passed to the happy hunting fields, and old Billy lies buried in his favourite paddock. The young rifleman was killed in South Africa, and the girls have all married and scattered to different parts of the world. lam not quite the new chum I then was, and I have learnt much of the colony and colonial ways since. I have travelled far and seen many men and many cities, but my thoughts often revert to those far-off days, to the bush and the sea, and the sandy beach, and to one for long the guide star of my life, and now a cherished memory in Heaven.