THE CLIMATE AND PRODUCTIONS.
The summer was now far advanced, and never, during its progress, had we
been incommoded by any very hot weather. Our house was generally crowded
with visitors: for, as it was the workmanship of King George and his
people, they were prodigiously proud of it, and each seemed to think he
had an undoubted right to sit in it as much as he liked. This, at times,
we felt as a great annoyance; but we were obliged to be very cautious not
to say or do anything that should give offence to them, as all were
exceedingly irritable, and we felt it to be most essential to our comfort
to continue on friendly terms with them.
Although we were situated in the same latitude as Sydney, we found the
climate of New Zealand infinitely superior. Moderate heats and
beautifully clear skies succeeded each other every day. We were quite
free from those oppressive, feverish heats which invariably prevail in
the middle of the day at Sydney, and from those hot pestilential winds
which are the terror of the inhabitants of New South Wales; nor were we
subject to those long droughts, which are often the ruin of the
Australian farmer. The temperature here was neither too hot nor too cold,
neither too wet nor too dry. Reflecting on this country--its situation,
inhabitants, and climate--I felt convinced that, if it were the object of
our Government to form a new colony, they could not select a more
desirable spot than New Zealand. When we left Sydney, a disease was
raging there of a most disagreeable nature, namely, catarrh. As usual, it
affected strongly the eyes and nose, and generally proved fatal to the
very old and to children. We found the poor natives here subject to the
same complaint, which they called the "Murray," or "Murraybad"; and they
declared they caught it from us Europeans.
I could scarcely refrain from laughing while witnessing the strange
methods they adopted to effect a cure. Sometimes they would envelope
their heads entirely in green leaves, at other times they would almost
roast themselves in a heated hut; but their universal remedy, and the one
they generally found successful, was starvation, which is, in fact, the
doctor who cures them of all the diseases the Europeans have imported
amongst them: and, I confess, I have often been amazed at their rapid
recovery from maladies which I should have thought incurable. The other
day I asked the opinion of a clever medical man, who came here with one
of the whalers, and he informed me the only cases he had met with amongst
the natives, which terminated fatally, were a few instances of
consumption.
After the novelty of our savage life began to wear away, I rambled much
about the country, in order to form some judgment of its capability of
improvement. I never possessed any practical knowledge of farming, and
therefore cannot give a scientific opinion or description of the
different soils. In whatever direction I travelled, and at this time I
had crossed the country in various directions several times, the soil
appeared to me to be fat and rich, and also well watered. From every
part of it which the natives have cultivated, the produce has been
immense. Here, where the finest samples of the human race are to be
found, the largest and finest timber grows, and every vegetable (yet
planted) thrives, the introduction of European grasses, fruits, etc.,
etc., would be a great desideratum. Were this done, in a very short time
farms would be more eagerly sought after here than they now are in New
South Wales. All the fruits and plants hitherto introduced by the
missionary establishments have succeeded wonderfully. Peaches and water
melons now were in full season; the natives brought baskets full of them
to our door every day, which they exchanged with us for the merest
trifles, such as a fish-hook, or a button.
Indian corn was likewise very abundant, but as the natives did not
possess any means or knowledge of grinding it, they were not aware of its
full value. Their only method of cooking it was one very disgusting to
Europeans. They soaked the ear in water till it was quite soft and sour,
the smell from which was exceedingly offensive; they then placed it in
their earth ovens to bake, and when they partook of it they seemed to
enjoy it very much.
In one of my journeys across the island I was accompanied by my Scotch
friend, Mr. Shand, who prided himself very much upon his general
knowledge of agricultural pursuits; and when I indulged in some sudden
bursts of admiration at the beauty of the surrounding prospect, he would
invariably check my enthusiasm, by observing that no animals could
possibly live in a country so overgrown with fern, and where no grass was
indigenous. These observations, often repeated, obliged me to qualify my
admiration of this picturesque and beautiful land; but my surprise, and I
may say my triumph, were complete when, on approaching the missionary
village of Kirikiri, we fell in with a herd of at least a hundred fat
cattle, browsing on the sides of the hill, and having nothing else but
this very fern to eat; and, on inquiry, we found they gave as good milk,
and were in as healthy a condition, as when they grazed on the rich
grasses of Lincolnshire.
My friend, Captain Duke, made great preparations for the return of his
ships, and purchased many pigs to be salted. The self-denial of the
natives is wonderful: though very fond of animal food, they sell the
whole to us Europeans for the means of war; thus conquering the appetite
for the purpose of possessing arms to make them terrible in the sight of
their enemies. This feeling, properly directed, may lead to their
becoming a great nation. In the course of our saltings and picklings of
pork, owing to the warmth of the weather, a considerable quantity was
spoiled. I recommended its being immediately thrown into the sea, but
Duke, who knew the propensities of the people better than I did, and
wished to ingratiate himself among them, sent for some of his favourites,
and presented them with the damaged meat, with which they marched off
highly delighted, and made a public feast of it in the evening.
[Illustration: New Zealand Method of Tattooing. (From a sketch by
A. Earle.)]