Station Life in New Zealand by Lady Mary Anne Barker (books to read this summer TXT) 📕

before the flames reached them their long delicate leaves felt the wind of the fire and shivered piteously; then the dry old ones at the base of the stem caught the first spark like tinder, and in a second the whole palm was in a blaze, making a sort of heart to the furnace, as it had so much more substance than the grass. For a moment or two the poor palm would bend and sway, tossing its leaves like fiery plumes in the air, and then it was reduced to a black stump, and the fire swept on up the hill.

The worst of it all was that we never knew when to leave off and come home. We would pause for half an hour and boil our little kettle, and have some tea and cake, and then go on again till quite late, getting well scolded when we reached home at last dead-tired and as black as little chimney-sweeps. One evening F---- was away on a visit of two nights to a distant friend, and Alice and I determined on having splendid burns in his absence; so we made our plans, and everything was favourable, wind and all. We enjoyed ourselves very much, but if Mr. U---- had not come out to look for us at ten o'clock at night, and traced us by our blazing track, we should have had to camp out, for we had no idea where we were, or that we had wandered so many miles from home; nor had we any intention of returning just yet. We were very much ashamed of ourselves upon that occasion, and took care to soften the story considerably before it reached F----'s ears the next day.

However much I may rejoice at nor'-westers in the early spring as aids to burning the run, I find them a great hindrance to my attempts at a lawn. Twice have we had the ground carefully dug up and prepared; twice has it been sown with the best English seed for the purpose, at some considerable expense; then has come much toil on the part of F---- and Mr. U---- with a heavy garden-roller; and the end of all the trouble has been that a strong nor'-wester has blown both seed and soil away, leaving only the hard un-dug (I wonder whether there is such a word) ground. I could scarcely believe that it really was all "clean gone," as children say, until a month or two after the first venture, when I had been straining my eyes and exercising my imagination all in vain to discover a blade where it ought to have been, but had remarked in one of my walks an irregular patch of nice English grass about half a mile from the house down the flat. I speculated for some time as to how it got there, and at last F---- was roused from his reverie, and said coolly, "Oh, that's your lawn!" When this happens twice, it really becomes very aggravating: there are the croquet things lying idle in the verandah year after year, and, as far as I can see, they are likely to remain unused for ever.

Before I close my letter I must tell you of an adventure I have had with a wild boar, which was really dangerous. F---- and another gentleman were riding with me one afternoon in a very lonely gully at the back of the run, when the dogs (who always accompany us) put up a large, fierce, black, boar out of some thick flax-bushes. Of course the hunting instinct, which all young Englishmen possess, was in full force instantly; and in default of any weapon these two jumped off their horses and picked up, out of the creek close by, the largest and heaviest stones they could lift. I disapproved of the chase under the circumstances, but my timid remonstrances were not even heard. The light riding-whips which each gentleman carried were hastily given to me to hold, and in addition F---- thrust an enormous boulder into my lap, saying, "Now, this is to be my second gun; so keep close to me." Imagine poor me, therefore, with all three whips tucked under my left arm, whilst with my right I tried to keep the big stone on my knee, Miss Helen all the time capering about, as she always does when there is any excitement; and I feeling very unequal to holding her back from joining in the chase too ardently, for she always likes to be first everywhere, which is not at all my "sentiments." The ground was as rough as possible; the creek winding about necessitated a good jump every few yards; and the grass was so long and thick that it was difficult to get through it, or to see any blind creeks or other pitfalls. _Mem_. to burn this next spring.

The pig first turned to bay against a palm-tree, and soon disabled the dogs. You cannot think what a formidable weapon a wild boar's tusk is--the least touch of it cuts like a razor; and they are so swift in their jerks of the head when at bay that in a second they will rip up both dogs and horses: nor are they the least afraid of attacking a man on foot in self-defence; but they seldom or ever strike the first blow. As soon as he had disposed of both the dogs, who lay howling piteously and bleeding on the ground, the boar made at full speed for the spur of a hill close by. The pace was too good to last, especially up-hill; so the gentlemen soon caught him up, and flung their stones at him, but they dared not bring their valuable horses too near for fear of a wound which probably would have lamed them for life; and a heavy, rock or stone is a very unmanageable weapon. I was not therefore at all surprised to see that both shots missed, or only very slightly grazed the pig; but what I confess to being perfectly unprepared for was the boar charging violently down-hill on poor unoffending me, with his head on one side ready for the fatal backward jerk, champing and foaming as he came, with what Mr. Weller would call his "vicked old eye" twinkling with rage. Helen could not realize the situation at all. I tried to turn her, and so get out of the infuriated brute's way; but no, she would press on to meet him and join the other horses at the top of the hill. I had very little control over her, for I was so laden with whips and stones that my hands were useless for the reins. I knew I was in great danger, but at the moment I could only think of my poor pretty mare lamed for life, or even perhaps killed on the spot. I heard one wild shout of warning from above, and I knew the others were galloping to my rescue; but in certainly less than half a minute from the time the boar turned, he had reached me. I slipped the reins over my left elbow, so as to leave my hands free, took my whip in my teeth (I had to drop the others), and lifting the heavy stone with both my hands waited a second till the boar was near enough, leaning well over on the right-hand side of the saddle so as to see what he did. He made for poor Helen's near fore-leg with his head well down, and I could hear his teeth gnashing. Just as he touched her with a prick from his tusk like a stiletto and before he could jerk his head back so as to rip the leg up, I flung my small rock with all the strength I possessed crash on his head: but I could not take a good aim; for the moment Helen felt the stab, she reared straight up on her hind-legs, and as we were going up-hill, I had some trouble to keep myself from slipping off over her tail. However, my rock took some effect, for the pig was so stunned that he dropped on his knees, and before he could recover himself Helen had turned round, still on her hind-legs, as on a pivot, and was plunging and jumping madly down the hill. I could not get back properly into my saddle, nor could I arrange the reins; so I had to stick on anyhow. It was not a case of fine riding at all; I merely clung like a monkey, and F----, who was coming as fast as he could to me, said he expected to see me on the ground every moment; but, however, I did not come off upon that occasion. Helen was nearly beside herself with terror. I tried to pat her neck and soothe her, but the moment she felt my hand she bounded as if I had struck her, and shivered so much that I thought she must be injured; so the moment F---- could get near her I begged him to look at her fetlock. He led her down to the creek, and washed the place, and examined it carefully, pronouncing, to my great joy, that the tusk had hardly gone in at all--in fact had merely pricked her--and that she was not in the least hurt. I could hardly get the gentlemen to go to the assistance of the poor dogs, one of which was very much hurt. Both F---- and Mr. B---- evidently thought I must have been "kilt intirely," for my situation looked so critical at one moment that they could scarcely be persuaded that neither Helen nor I were in the least hurt. I coaxed F---- that evening to write me a doggerel version of the story for the little boys, which I send you to show them:--

St. Anne and the pig.
You've heard of St. George and the dragon,
Or seen them; and what can be finer,
In silver or gold on a flagon,
With Garrard or Hancock designer?

Though we know very little about him
(Saints mostly are shrouded in mystery),
Britannia can't well do without him,
He sets off her shillings and history.

And from truth let such tales be defended,
Bards at least should bestow them their blessing,
As a rich sort of jewel suspended
On History when she's done dressing.

Some would have her downstairs to the present,
In plain facts fresh from critical mangle;
But let the nymph make herself pleasant,
Here a bracelet, and there with a bangle

Such as Bold Robin Hood or Red Riding,
Who peasant and prince have delighted,
Despite of all social dividing,
And the times of their childhood united.

Shall New Zealand have never a fable,
A rhyme to be sung by the nurses,
A romance of a famous Round Table,
A "Death of Cock Robin" in verses?

Or shall not a scribe be found gracious
With pen and with parchment, inditing
And setting a-sail down the spacious
Deep day stream some suitable writing;

Some action, some name so