Station Life in New Zealand | Page 7

and standing
out, sharp and clear against this lovely glowing heaven. The town itself,
I must say, seemed very dull and stagnant, with little sign of life or
activity about it; but nothing can be prettier or more picturesque than its
situation--not unlike that of a Swiss village. Our day came to an end all
too soon, and we re-embarked for Wellington, the most southern town
of the North Island. The seat of government is there, and it is supposed
to be a very thriving place, but is not nearly so well situated as Nelson
nor so attractive to strangers. We landed and walked about a good deal,
and saw what little there was to see. At first I thought the shops very
handsome, but I found, rather to my disgust, that generally the fine,
imposing frontage was all a sham; the actual building was only a little
but at the back, looking all the meaner for the contrast to the cornices
and show windows in front. You cannot think how odd it was to turn a
corner and see that the building was only one board in thickness, and
scarcely more substantial than the scenes at a theatre. We lunched at the
principal hotel, where F--- was much amused at my astonishment at
colonial prices. We had two dozen very nice little oysters, and he had a
glass of porter: for this modest repast we paid eleven shillings!
We slept on board, had another walk on shore after breakfast the
following morning, and about twelve o'clock set off for Lyttleton, the
final end of our voyaging, which we reached in about twenty hours.
The scenery is very beautiful all along the coast, but the navigation is
both dangerous and difficult. It was exceedingly cold, and Lyttleton did
not look very inviting; we could not get in at all near the landing-place,
and had to pay 2 pounds to be rowed ashore in an open boat with our
luggage. I assure you it was a very "bad quarter of an hour" we passed
in that boat; getting into it was difficult enough. The spray dashed over

us every minute, and by the time we landed we were quite drenched,
but a good fire at the hotel and a capital lunch soon made us all right
again; besides, in the delight of being actually at the end of our voyage
no annoyance or discomfort was worth a moment's thought. F--- had a
couple of hours' work rushing backwards and forwards to the Custom
House, clearing our luggage, and arranging for some sort of
conveyance to take us over the hills. The great tunnel through these
"Port Hills" (which divide Lyttleton from Christchurch, the capital of
Canterbury) is only half finished, but it seems wonderful that so
expensive and difficult an engineering work could be undertaken by
such an infant colony.
At last a sort of shabby waggonette was forthcoming, and about three
o'clock we started from Lyttleton, and almost immediately began to
ascend the zig-zag. It was a tremendous pull for the poor horses, who
however never flinched; at the steepest pinch the gentlemen were
requested to get out and walk, which they did, and at length we reached
the top. It was worth all the bad road to look down on the land-locked
bay, with the little patches of cultivation, a few houses nestling in
pretty recesses. The town of Lyttleton seemed much more imposing
and important as we rose above it: fifteen years ago a few sheds
received the "Pilgrims," as the first comers are always called. I like the
name; it is so pretty and suggestive. By the way, I am told that these
four ships, sent out with the pilgrims by the Canterbury Association,
sailed together from England, parted company almost directly, and
arrived in Lyttleton (then called Port Cooper) four months afterwards,
on the same day, having all experienced fine weather, but never having
sighted each other once.
As soon as we reached the top of the hill the driver looked to the
harness of his horses, put on a very powerful double break, and we
began the descent, which, I must say, I thought we took much too
quickly, especially as at every turn of the road some little anecdote was
forthcoming of an upset or accident; however, I would not show the
least alarm, and we were soon rattling along the Sumner Road, by the
sea-shore, passing every now and then under tremendous overhanging
crags. In half an hour we reached Sumner itself, where we stopped for a

few moments to change horses. There is an inn and a village here,
where people from Christchurch come in the warm weather for sea-air
and bathing. It began to rain hard, and the rest of the journey, some