The Sun.
London, England, 1865-01-04 00:00:00

An Adventure in the Bush,

Mr. J. P. Donnelly, who is on a visit to Messrs.
C. and C. A. Brown, at Matapiro, had last month
a narrow escape from a " very unpleasant position."
Finding himself alone at the home station on the
afternoon of the 24th June, Mr. Donnelly deter-
mined to go to the out-station at the west end, about
ten miles off, with the intention of enjoying some
pig hunting on the following day. He accordingly
started with his blankets, and, fortunately, a piece
of bread and a pocket-flask of brandy ; and having
only at the last moment thought of taking the bread
(the out-station being short of flour at the time), he
carried it in his hand instead of packing it on
the saddle. Having started somewhat late in the
afternoon, darkness overtook him when among
the small hills about three miles from the out;
station ; and as the whare is not an easy place for
a stranger to find in the daytime, Mr. Donnelly
thought it would be useless to attempt it by night ;
so he returned on his tracks, and reached the Ma-
tapiro Flat in safety. About this flat he appears to
have wandered for about three or four hours, when,
on his horse refusing to proceed, he got off and tried
to lead the animal, carefully feeling his way step by
step, when in an instant he found himself hanging
over he knew not what, with every chance of pulling
the horse on to him. He let go the bridle and fell, or
rather partly slipped and partly fell over 40 feet, when
he was brought up by a small piece of flat a fewyards
wide, very much bruised, but no bones broken. He
expended the few matches he had in exploring the lo-
cation, but finding he could make nothing of it he re-
signed himself to his fate, and passed a miserable
night waiting for morning. It rained hard, and the
wind was high, so that it was all he could do to keep
his limbs from chilling by rubbing first one and
then another, while his ankle being slightly strained
did not mend matters. When day broke he found
himself part of the way down the precipitous•banks
of the Ngaruroro. He could go about 100 yards
each way ; but there was the precipice above, and
a fearful fall below of 200 feet on to the shingle.
He found a place where, by going down a hole like
a chimney, he could get at a tiny stream of water,
but could see no way out. He passed the whole of
the 25th in trying to climb up first one place and
then another—" cooeying " without intermission
—with, however, not the smallest probability
of anyone hearing him. He managed to put
up a small shelter about 2ft. high, and, hoping for
better luck next day, passed another miserable night.
On the 26th he tried to make a flax rope, but the
flax was all rotten, and the heavy stones with which
he first tried his manufactures invariably broke
them, so he again paced his limbs backwards and
forwards, trying first one place and then another,
as before, occasionally going down the chimney to
replenish his flask with water. He felt very thirsty,
but not all hungry, eating very sparingly of his
bread. This day he fancied he saw some men try-
ing to catch a horse, and " cooeyed" more repeatedly
than ever ; but the horses and men were all cab-
bage trees, and night again closed in upon him with
no improvement in his prospects. On the 27th he
again commenced his weary pacing up and down,
and fruitless attempts to climb up the face of the
precipice, till about noon he found himself growing
weaker, and then resolved to try one last chance—
that was either safety or certain death. He had
seen the place at first, but left it as quite a last re-
source, the chances being so very great against suc-
cess. At the end of one of his boundaries there was
a shelf of clay, leaning at a very considerable angle,
and extended more than 100 yards. At the end of
this the bank was not quite so steep, and there were
some scrubs growing. Mr. Donnelly having made
up his mind that the time was come, took off his
boots and socks, tied his garments to his limbs, com-
mended his soul to God, and started. Step by step,
he cut a foothole with his pocket knife ; the least
shake in the clay, the least slip of a foot, would
have launched him into eternity. An hour passed,
he was still safe, still working steadily on. In ano-
ther half-hour he had reached the scrub, and in ten
minutes more was on the bank, thanking God for
his escape from a very unpleasant position. Mr.
Donnelly is a good deal bruised, and considerably
reduced, but otherwise not much the worse for his
adventure.—Hawke's Bay Herald.