Putnam patriot., 1930-10-02
Patricia Putnam's Own Column...
The Dessruetion of the Pink Terraces
 of New Zealand
AS Told by Mrs. E. s. Colcleugh

AS Told oy Mrs. F.. S. Iolcieukh
 The conversation had turned Co the Yellowstone, and Mrs. Coleleugh vas telling of her first visit, in the days when where palatial hotels now stand. were only tents for tourists, and in place of the fine roads of today, crowded with motors, were bridal paths and trails through the woods.
 She then went on to speak of the many colored terraces, the Joy of tra- vclers. and compared them to the fa- nous Pink Terraces in New Zealand. which were unequalled in their beauty, but now alas. are only a memory.
 The story of the terrible eruption of the volcano Tarawera in 1886 which wiped out the terraces as told by Mrs. Colcleugh, who got it from Sophia. native guide, Is most thrill ing. Before the eruption Tarawera was a flat topped mountain, extend. ing two miles and half and divided into three sections, called Nahauga. Ruswahia and Tarawera, the last name finally being applied not only to the whole mountain but to the lake at it's base. The terrible eatas- throphe came without warning; al though 1t was a region where If stick was stuck in the ground, on its withdrawal jet of steam would rise from the earth. Still for some time before the outburst, the mountain and its surroundings were in a nor nal condition.
 One Monday party of tourists in the care of Sophia, the favorite guide started out to see the famous Ter races, doing all the regular things, even bathing at the Pink Terrace, re- turning to Wairoa where they spent the night. Tuesday heavy rain came on which lasted all Wednesday, but cleared at night. About one in the morning they were awakened by earthquake shocks and a prolonged rumbling noise, which was followed by great explosion. After few mo ments, what appeared to be flames, but may have been the glare from incandescent rocks reflected upon the clouds, were seen on the three peaks of the mountain. Sharp explosions came at short intervals, and eontin- ued al night. The electrical dis play was extraordinary, blood red tongues appeared suddenly in the darkness, red hot bodies. presumably volcanic stones rolled down the peaks and seemed to dart from the clouds. while from great distances were heard sounds like booming cannon. Att Mairoa most of the buildings col lapsed beneath the weight of the vol. canic mud which fell on them. The roof of the hotel gave away. and many of the Europeans sought refuge in Sophia's "whare," (house) where many natives had already gene for safety. All agreed that Sophia's eoolness and energy saved many lives. In their fear many Of the ref ugees started Co leave their shelter. but she sternly commanded them to stay saying If We die. we all die together. When after many hours they fnaliy left the house. as Sophia said, they saw no Moari, no wharves. no bridges and all the earth hot. % Thus came the destruction of the Pink Terraces of New Zealand.
 Mrs. Colcieugh heard the graphic description of it from Sophia herself, who, she with difficulty persuaded to dine with her at the hotel and in the evening tell the story of the eruption 70 the guests.
 Before she began, Sophia asked if she could smoke her pipe, without which no Maorie woman can talk.
 Women writers are very much to the front in the list of new novels. Among the books, that have pleased the reviewers are "Shrimps for Tea, a collection of delightful, if trifiing short stories by Josephine Blumen- field, "A Note in Music" by Rosemond Lehman, author of the much discussed Dusty Answer" of few years ago. Her Fathers House, story of life in Wales by Hilda Vaughan, "The Ed nardians," clever and sophisticated novel by V. Sackville West, "Stran- gers May Kiss" by Ursula Parrott, of which one reviewer says. fits sometimes good and sometimes awful" Wears of Grace" by Mar garet Aver Barnes, good story, of three generations, a trihe dull at times, but on the whole well written Doctor Seroeold" by Helen Ashto.f. not exciting. but well worth reading. and "Laments for the Living" an un- usually fine book by Dorothy Parker, who wrote the prize short story. "The Big Blond"