Morning journal and courier., 1882-07-25
New Zealand Delights.

The New Zealander is much at home in his tent of calico as the Englishman within his four walls of brick and mortar. It Is cheap, portable, and in the summer as pleas ant residence as need be. The rain, let 1t fall ever so hard, does not affect him. Should the wind blow his frail tenement over the damages are quickly repaired tent, few blankets-no more is needed for weeks shooting among the hills or fishing expedi- tion along coast or lake. A few years ago, when a great excavation work was in prog ress scores of little white tents dotted the hill sides of Wellington Here in this minia- ture encampment, dwelt the 'navvles, " with their wives and children, with no rent to Day, and within mile of the luxurles and comforts of town of some 1000 people. The line of railway which runs for 40 miles through the mountainous, rugged country near Wellington into the open plains and pastoral districts of the back country winds it's way through black gorges, over rocky barriers and gloomy businesses, round the sides of preeipitous spurs, through the dense forest of the Rimutaka ranges. Every turn reveals the skeleton framework of hundreds of tents and rude shanties, rotting in the sun and rain, where the small armies of men have lived, shifting onwards with the work Limp pieces of canvas tiutter in the wind, the white poles and weather be aten slabs the refuse of camp scattered about-old saddles, worn out tools, rusty pots and pans, pieces of rotten blankets, worn out coats and shirts-all tell the same tale and add to the weird desolaton of these gloomy solitudes. The bushman who has his contract for cut ting timber, the splitter and fencer, each is a dweller in tents. But the camper-out in New Zealand is no sybarite He has rough work | to do, and often difficult country to traverse. | His back must often bear heavy load, his | hands must be ready to turn to anything, | from felling tree to sewing up nasty cut l in flesh or garment, from catching a horse
 not always easy task-to shooting his | dinner before he eats 1t. On the other hand, | he spends his day in bracing air, and often l amid fine scenery, in the finest climate in the world He works like horse but what an l appetite he cultivates He knows not dyspep- l sia ; his eye is clear and his skin tanned
 the picture of rude health. The true New | Zealand nomad, with one exception perhaps
 (the prospector,) is the surveyor--the ex- | plorer the fossicker for roads, the pioneer, | whose work takes him to the little known
 back country, where he will probably, see few | faces but those of his small party for months | at a time. When one piece of work is com pleted he moves on to another, perhaps a
 hundred miles away, where he makes new
 home and settles down afresh. He may be
 lucky, and chance upon some 'plum"-some
 fine piece of country which no one knows of,
 or a magnificent bit of totara bush or, if a
 keen hand, pick up bargains here and there
 which may make him a rich man. But these
 chances come seldom, and by the time he is
 45 the surveyor Is generally broken down
 with rheumatism and his active work has tc
 come to an end Not the least of his diff
 culties is the shifting of his camp. He has
 much baggage, with party of eight men
 there are delicate instruments to be carried
 hither and thither. The question of supplies,
 too, is not always easy to solve. But long
 and hard won experience has taught him hi
 lesson.