_THE "TERROR."_
House hunting is not usually exciting sport, no matter how plentiful
the game may be, and Cambridge I found very badly stocked. I travelled,
I believe, over every inch of the scattered town, which has a
population of about sixteen hundred, saw some places for sale, the
prices asked being far beyond my purse, and inquired in almost every
shop for houses to let, but without success.
I had almost given up in despair, when I struck what I thought was a
good scent, which landed me in a shoemaker's shop, where I found the
proprietor, a mild-looking, bald-headed little man, spectacled, and
leather aproned, hammering away at a boot.
"I believe you have a small house to let?" I commenced.
"Well, I has and I hasn't!" the old man responded. "You see, I has a
place, but it's got a tenant, and she's a queer 'un to deal with!"
"Well, you can't let your house twice over," I interrupted rather
shortly, thinking the old fellow was making fun of me; "so there is an
end to the matter!"
"Hold on a bit!" returned the patriarch. "I've given this here widder
notice to quit, for I can't get no rent out of her, but lor! she don't
care no more for notices than nothing at all!"
"But has she a lease?" I demanded.
"Lease indeed!" quoth the ancient one indignantly. "Cock _her_ up with
a lease! Why, she's only a weekly tenant, but, my word, she's a terror!"
"If she won't pay, there should be no difficulty in getting rid of
her," I remarked.
"May be not! may be not!" he answered slowly, and in unconvinced tones;
"but you don't know her. She's a terror! my word! she _is_ a terror!
But I tell you what," he continued, brightening up; "you go and say you
heard she was going away, and you would like to see the place. I'll
show you the way."
"Don't you think it would be better for you to see her yourself and
arrange matters?" I queried.
"Me see her!--me arrange matters with her!" he screamed; "catch me at
it. Me and the widder don't hit it at all, and she's a regler terror,
she is. But you're all right though; she will be civil enough to you."
"Very well then," I reluctantly consented; and off we set for the abode
of the formidable widow, and soon arrived before a little cottage with
a piece of waste ground in front, shut off from the road by a hedge and
a gate.
The shoemaker concealed himself behind the hedge, while I entered
the gate and knocked at the cottage door, which was opened almost
instantaneously by a tall, hard-featured, middle-aged female in a
widow's cap. The door opened direct into the sitting-room, without the
intervention of a hall or passage, and I was undoubtedly face to face
with "the terror" herself. Fully sensible of my position, I raised my
hat, and addressed her as follows:--
"I must ask pardon for my intrusion, but hearing that you were about to
change your residence, I"----
"Change my ressidence! And may I make so bold as to hask who informed
you I was going to change my res-si-dence?" she interrupted, tossing
her head, and scornfully eyeing me.
"I understood so from your landlord this morning," I meekly responded.
"Oh! you did, did yer! Well, you can tell that bald-headed, goggling,
mean little humbug of a cobbler that he's labouring under a
miscomprehension!" With that the awful female banged the door in my
face, and thus brought to an end my house-hunting in Cambridge. No sign
of the cobbler could I see--he had evidently overheard "the terror's"
concluding words and bolted.
I went back to my hotel dejected and out of spirits. On entering the
reading-room, I found two gentlemen installed there--evidently new
arrivals--who were smoking cigarettes and perusing newspapers. The
younger one, a man of about thirty-five years of age, with a full beard
and moustache, shortly after my entrance handed me the paper he had
been studying, saying, "Perhaps you would like to see the _Auckland
Star_, just arrived by the evening train."
I thanked him, and ran my eye over its columns. I did not take much
interest in the New Zealand papers at that time, so was easily
satisfied, and passed the paper on to the other occupant of the room,
an elderly gentleman with a jovial countenance, whom the younger
addressed as Doctor.
Acquaintances are soon made in New Zealand hotels, and in a very short
time we were all three chatting as though we had known one another for
months.
"Not long out from home?" questioned the bearded gentleman.
"Only landed in Auckland on the third of July," I responded.
"What do you think of the colony?" was the next question.
"Well, I hardly like to express an opinion yet, but I certainly am not
favourably impressed with the part I have just come from," I rejoined,
naming the locality, "and feel half inclined to go back to the old
country."
"Your disappointment does not surprise me," returned my companion.
"By Jove, sir, the way land companies and the banks have caused this
part of the colony to be puffed up, has done more harm to New Zealand
than anything else. I would not live here if they _gave_ me a house.
You can't go out without being choked with dust when the weather's
dry, and there is positively nothing attractive in the whole place.
Now, where I live, it is altogether different. Beautiful country!
virgin forests! an inland sea alive with fish--nice society--fishing,
shooting, pig hunting, sailing--everything a man can wish for. It's a
grand country--a _grand_ country, sir. Ah! that is a place worth living
in; but this--bah!" Here he paused to relight his cigarette, which in
his enthusiasm he had allowed to go out.
Seizing the opportunity, I exclaimed--"I have no doubt it is all you
describe, but I am a civil engineer, possessing very limited means, and
anxious to get work, so fear it would never do or me."
"Never do for you--why not?" resumed my hairy interlocutor. "Far better
chance of getting occupation there than you'll ever have here. Just
where your chance lies. County Council got no proper engineer--you on
the spot--make your application--produce your testimonials, and the
thing's done. Tell you what--I am going up here in about a fortnight;
you come up with me. I'll put you up and show you the country. Know a
property that will just suit you--lovely place--dirt cheap, sir! Good
house--orchards--beautiful views--grand, sir--grand!"
"What is the district called, and how far is it from Auckland?" I
questioned.
"The Kaipara--the Eden of the north island, sir! and not more than
ninety miles from Auckland--thirty by rail and sixty by steamer,"
replied my new acquaintance. "Delightful trip the water part. Don't
think much of the railway part--never did like the railway--have too
much of it perhaps--wretched accommodation--jerked and bumped nearly
to death. Give me the water!" he proceeded enthusiastically. "Ah! when
you've seen the Kaipara, you'll say it's lovely; I know you will. Take
my advice, and come up with me!"
I thanked him for his kind offer, which I promised to take into serious
consideration, and writing my Auckland address on my card, I asked him
to call when he reached town, and I would then be prepared with an
answer. He promised to do so, and at that moment the first bell ringing
from the dining-room, warned us to get ready for the evening meal.
Having no further business to transact in Cambridge, I took the first
train on the following morning for Auckland, which I reached in due
course, and spent the evening detailing my adventures to my wife, and
in consultation with her as to the best course for us to pursue. It
seemed evident we must give up, at any rate for a time, the idea with
which we left England, and it was equally clear that in order to live
within my income I must buy a place with the few loose hundreds I had
brought out, where I could keep a cow or two, and save rent, milk, and
butter. I decided, therefore, to look at places that were for sale
about Auckland so as to help me to come to a decision before my friend
of the Cambridge hotel put in an appearance.
I had looked over one property at Cambridge, which comprised a
six-roomed house, and eight acres of land. The house was in very bad
condition--quite uninhabitable indeed; and for it and the eight acres I
was asked one thousand pounds.
I saw several about Auckland, but could find nothing to suit me. My
wife and I took a good many excursions together in this pursuit, but
without avail. We also made some pleasure trips, one of which was to
Mount Eden, lying directly behind the city. An easy ascent of between
three and four hundred feet brought us to the lip of the crater, from
which a magnificent view of the isthmus of Auckland and the surrounding
country is to be obtained, the great number of volcanic cones visible
forming a very remarkable feature in the landscape. They are, I
believe, over sixty in number, and range in height from three hundred
to nine hundred feet. No tradition exists among the Maoris of any
eruption in the neighbourhood, though the fact that the Maori name for
the highest peak, Rangitoto, means sky of blood, seems to imply that it
has been active within their time.
The inside of the crater of Mount Eden resembles a funnel or inverted
cone covered with grass and plentifully strewn with lumps of scoria.
It is very symmetrical in shape, and one would almost fancy it an
artificial creation. There is indeed plenty of evidence of the
work of human hands on Mount Eden in the shape of remains of Maori
fortifications, though the natural and the artificial are so blended
together and softened by time that it is difficult to say where the one
ends and the other begins.
When we had satisfied our appetites for landscape scenery, we descended
the Mount, and spent some time examining the neighbourhood in the vain
hope of tumbling across a place to be sold that would suit us. We were
much struck with the elegant timber villa residences, surrounded by
spacious verandahs, about which flowering creeping plants of various
kinds, such as the yellow Banksian rose and the passion fruit with
its splendid scarlet flower, climbed and hung in luxurious festoons.
Some of the villas possessed gardens filled with beautiful flowers,
including camelias, azaleas, spirœas, and many others only to be found
in conservatories in England. Everywhere in the province of Auckland
flowers of all kinds not only grow but flower most luxuriantly, and the
lover of floriculture can indulge his hobby to the full.