The immense piles of sawn timber lying here give to us new-chums some notion of the vast timber-trade of Northern New Zealand, especially since we learn that much which goes to the South Island and elsewhere is shipped direct from Whangaroa, Hokianga, the Kaipara, and other ports in the north. The road along the river front, here, is shortly brought up abruptly at the base of a lofty bluff, whereon is a church and other buildings, near the site of old Fort Britomart.

Retracing our steps, we enter Queen Street, the main street of the city.

All the lower portion of it ab.u.t.ting on to the wharf was, we are told, reclaimed from swamp and mud only a very few years ago. The street is a fine one, leading straight away from the river, curving imperceptibly to the right, and gradually ascending for about a mile, until it branches off into other streets and roads. Down at the lower end of the street most of the buildings are of brick and stone; and some of them are of tolerably fine architecture. There are banks and warehouses and merchants' stores of all kinds, interspersed with hotels and public buildings. Higher up Queen Street, and in the cross-streets, stone and brick edifices are less numerous, and wooden houses more plentiful.

The broad, well-paved thoroughfare is crowded at certain times of the day with carriages, cabs, buggies, omnibuses, equestrians, express-carts, waggons, drays, and every species of vehicle. The side-walks are thronged with pa.s.sengers, who pa.s.s up and down under the awnings that stretch from the houses across the wide pavement. Many of the shop-windows would do no discredit to Oxford Street or the Strand, either as respects their size or the goods displayed in them.

Some distance up Queen Street, and turning a little out of it, is the Market House, where a very fine show of fruit, vegetables, and other eatables is frequently to be seen; and then there is the United Service Hotel, at the corner of Wellesley Street, which is a structure that Aucklanders point to with pride, as evidence of their progress in street architecture. At night, when the gas is lit in the streets, the shops, and the saloons, and one mingles with the crowd that throngs them, or pours into the theatre, the Choral Hall, the Mechanics' Inst.i.tute, the Oddfellows' Hall, or other places of amus.e.m.e.nt, instruction, or dissipation, it is almost possible sometimes to imagine oneself back in the old country, in the streets of some English town.

New-chums are able to notice some of the peculiarities of Auckland street-life, wherein it most differs from an old-country town. These arise princ.i.p.ally from that absence of conventionality, which, certainly in many external things, is the prerogative of colonists. There is a mingling of people who seem on terms of perfect equality, and who yet present the most extraordinary difference in appearance. The gentleman and the roughest of roughs may happen to get together on the same piece of work, and when their temporary chum-ship ends the one cannot entirely cut the other, such being a course quite inadmissible with colonial views of life. Only one man _may_ be scouted by any one, and that is the loafer.

Of course there are good people here who would fain introduce all the cla.s.s barriers that exist in the old country; but they cannot do more than form little cliques and coteries, which are constantly giving way and being broken down under the amalgamating process of colonization.

Where these offer most resistance to the levelling influence is where they are cemented by religious denominational spite, which is, unhappily, very prevalent in Auckland.

This general fusion of all sorts of people together produces a very amiable and friendly state of things. Etiquette is resolved into simple courtesy, not very refined, perhaps, but which is sufficient "between man and man," as Micawber would say. Prejudice must not be entertained against any man on account of his birth, connections, education, poverty, or manner of work; he is "a man for a' that," and ent.i.tled to the same consideration as the more fortunate individual who possesses what he lacks. Only if he be a loafer, or dishonest, or otherwise positively objectionable, will any man find himself under the ban of colonial society. And this society is not a mere set of wealthy exclusives banded together against the rest of the world; it comprehends everybody.

One sees in the streets abundant evidence of these conditions of social relationship. In the first place, costume goes for little or nothing.

Men--I am coming to your s.e.x presently, ladies!--men wear just what they please at all times and in all places, and without remark from others.

One sees men apparelled in all sorts of ways; and it would be impossible to guess at a man's condition from his coat, hereaway.

In Queen Street once, I saw a well-dressed and thriving store-keeper touch his hat to a ragged, disreputable-looking individual, who was carrying a hod full of bricks, where some building operations were going on. It was a sudden impulse of old habit, I suppose, which had wrung that very uncolonial salute from the sometime valet to his former master, in whose service he had originally come out. I knew of one case where master and servant actually came to change places, and I may add, to their mutual advantage eventually.

A man would not be likely to receive an invitation to the governor's ball unless he had some pretensions to gentility, or was locally important. Yet, I suppose that the recipient of such an invite might turn up at Government House in a grey jumper and moleskins, if he were so minded, and would pa.s.s unquestioned. In such a case it would only be surmised that Mr. So-and-so was "not doing very well at present."

Women, as a rule, dress "to death;" and the more gorgeous the toilette the more likely is it that the wearer is unmarried, and a worker of some sort. The merest Irish s.l.u.t can earn her ten shillings a week as a domestic, besides being found in everything; and better-cla.s.s girls get proportionately more; so it is not surprising that they can clothe themselves in fine raiment. But there is no rule to go by--the expensively dressed woman may be either mistress or maid, and the plain cotton gown may clothe either as well. Only one thing is certain, the Auckland woman of any cla.s.s will dress as well as she knows how, on her own earnings or her husband's.

We new-chums observe one or two peculiarities of this kind as we stroll about the city, and they are explained to us by our colonial friend.

Some extremely dowdy females we see riding in a barouche are the wife and daughters of a high official, who is stingy to his woman-kind, so they say. Two youths we pa.s.s are in striking contrast, as they walk along arm-in-arm. One is got up according to the fullest Auckland idea of Bond Street foppery, while the other prefers to go about in very "creeshy flannen;" yet the two sit at the same desk in one of the banks, and earn the same salary; and neither they themselves, nor anyone else, seems to notice any peculiarity in the costume of either.

Then comes along a more remarkable pair still: a "lady" and a "man"

apparently, or so they might be described at home. She is dressed in the latest fashion and with killing effect--muslin, silk, embroidery, chains, bracelets, laces, ribbons, the newest thing in bonnets, and the last in parasols--and has quite the air of a fine lady. He is a burly rough, bearded to the eyes, the shapeless remnant of a coa.r.s.e wide-awake covering a head of hair that has seemingly been long unknown to the barber; his blue flannel shirt, ragged jacket, breeches, and long riding-boots, are all crusted deep with mud, while a stock-whip is coiled round his shoulders. They walk amicably along together, conversing, though there is something of an air of constraint between them. Our colonial friend nods to the man as they pa.s.s; and we ask him who the strangely a.s.sorted couple may be.

"Oh! he's a well-to-do stock-farmer," is the reply, "and has just come in with a herd of fat beasts."

"And the lady?" we ask.

"The lady! Ha! That's a new dairy-maid and house-servant my friend's just engaged. Guess she'll have to leave her fine feathers in Auckland!

Precious little good they'd be to her at his place in the bush!"

And now for a sample of the native race, but very sparingly represented in the city at any time. A dignified and portly gentleman is rolling along, with an air as though the place belonged to him. He is a Maori, as we plainly see; moreover, he is a chief, and is at present a member of the House of Representatives. There is no trace of the savage about him, as he struts along in his patent leather boots, shining broadcloth, snowy shirt-front, ma.s.sive watch-guard, and glossy silk hat, unless it be in the richly decorative tattoo that adorns his brown face, and over which a gold double-eyegla.s.s has a somewhat incongruous effect

There is another Maori on the curbstone, looking a horrible tatterdemalion as he stands there in the scantiest and wretchedest of European rags, offering peaches and water-melons for sale. Him and his proffered wares the chief waves off with aristocratic hauteur, until he suddenly recollects that his humble countryman has a vote at the elections; then he stops, enters into a brief conversation, examines the kitful of fruit through his gla.s.ses with supercilious disdain, but eventually purchases a chunk of melon, and goes on his way munching it.

In the shops the same sense of equality is noticeable. Shopkeepers and their a.s.sistants are not the cringing, obsequious slaves that we know so well in England. There is none of that bowing and smirking, superfluous "sir"-ing and "ma'am"-ing, and elaborate deference to customers that prevails at home. Here we are all freemen and equals; and the Auckland shopman meets his customer with a shake of the hand, and a pleasant hail-fellow-well-met style of manner. Not but what all the tricks of trade are fully understood at the Antipodes, and the Aucklander can chaffer and haggle, and drive as hard a bargain as his fellow across the seas; only his way of doing it is different, that is all.

Auckland possesses a cla.s.s whose members are akin to the street-arabs of London and elsewhere, but differ from them in many respects. The Auckland "larrikin" is a growing nuisance, but he is neither so numerous nor so objectionable as yet as his fellow in Melbourne and Sydney.

Unlike the street-arab, he is either a school-boy, or earns his living somehow, or he is a truant from work of either kind. He probably belongs to some working family, whom he favours with his company only at such times as pleases himself, for he is utterly unmanageable by his parents.

He has exuberant spirits and an inordinate love of mischief, which shows itself in manifold ways. He has a sort of organization of his own, and seems to revel in uncurbed liberty of action. Occasionally some wrathful citizen executes summary justice upon him, in spite of the fear that such an act may bring down the vengeance of the whole boyish gang; and sometimes the youth finds himself in the police-court, charged with "larrikinism," an offence that is sure to be severely punished. The "larrikin" easily gets a job, and works by fits and starts when it suits him, or when he wants money. He lives in the open air, sleeping anywhere, and getting his food no one knows how. He is not altogether bad--not so frequently thieving and breaking the law, as intent on simple mischief and practical jokes of the coa.r.s.est and roughest sort--still, he is a pest that Aucklanders inveigh heartily against, and would gladly see extirpated by the strong arm of the law.

We turn out of Queen Street into Shortland Crescent. At the corner is a large and handsome block of buildings constructed of brick, and having an imposing frontage on the Crescent. This contains the General Post-office and the Custom House. Not far distant, on the opposite side of Queen Street, is the New Zealand Insurance Company's establishment, more generally known as "The Exchange." It is the finest building in the city, excepting the Supreme Court, perhaps, and has a tower, and a clock which is the Big Ben of Auckland.

At the corner of Shortland Crescent and Queen Street, and just under the front of the Post-office, is a kind of rendezvous that serves as a _Pet.i.te Bourse_, or Cornhill, to those who go "on 'Change" in Auckland.

Here congregate little knots of eager-eyed men--stock-jobbers most of them--waiting for news from the Thames gold field, perhaps, or for telegrams from elsewhere. Ever and anon some report spreads among them, there is an excited flutter, mysterious consultations and references to note books, and scrip of the "Union Beach," the "Caledonian," or the "Golden Crown," changes hands, and goes "up" or "down," as the case may be, while fortunes--in a small way--are made or marred.

Toiling on up the steep ascent of the Crescent, we come out on a broad road that runs along the summit of the range, and close to an ugly church, St. Matthew's, that crowns the bluff looking over the harbour.

From various points here there are good views of the city obtainable; and our guide is able to expatiate on most of its beauties and characteristics. Down below us is the splendid and extensive harbour, land-locked, and capable of containing the whole British navy. Right opposite is the North Head, or North Sh.o.r.e, as it is usually termed, on whose twin volcanic peaks is an Armstrong battery, to defend the harbour entrance in case of need. There is also the signal station on Mount Victoria, whence incoming vessels may be sighted outside of Tiri-tiri and the Barrier Islands. There are the villages of Stokes' Point, West Devonport, and East Devonport beyond, facing the open Pacific, and renowned for its salubrious sea-breezes.

Just beneath us is the railway station, whence the line runs across the isthmus, connecting Auckland with Onehunga on the Manukau Harbour, where the West Coast traffic is carried on, and thus placing Auckland, like Corinth, upon two seas. The railway also extends southwards to the Waikato.[1] Onehunga is only some half-dozen miles from the outskirts of the city, and the road to it lies between fields and meadows, bordered with hedgerows, by villa and cottage and homestead, quite in English rural style. The road also leads by Ellerslie race-course, and the Ellerslie Gardens, the Auckland Rosherville.

The coastal traffic that is carried on in the Manukau is nearly equal in extent to the similar trade done in the Waitemata, hence the commercial importance of Auckland can hardly be rivalled by that of any other city of New Zealand. Dunedin, in the far south, holds a similar status to Auckland in the north, but the cities are too far distant (some eight hundred nautical miles) to become rivals to the detriment of each other.

Beyond the railway, we look across the inland sweep of Mechanic's Bay to the rising ground on its further side, crowned by the popular and picturesque suburb of Parnell. On the river side the streets descend to the sh.o.r.e; the houses, most of them pretty wooden villas, standing each in its terraced garden grounds, embowered in rich foliage. On the land side a gully divides Parnell from the Domain. This serves as a public park and recreation ground for citizens of Auckland. It is a tract of original forest or bush, through whose bosky glades winding walks have been cut, leading up and down range and gully, furnished with seats and arbours and artificial accessories. Conjoined to the Domain are the gardens of the Acclimatization Society, which are beautiful and interesting on account of their botanical and zoological contents.

Rising at some distance behind the Domain, we catch a glimpse of Mount Hobson, upon whose sides nestles the suburb of the same name. To the right of it lies the Great South Road, whereon is the village of Newmarket, and beyond it again the scattered suburb of Epsom, and that gem of lovely hamlets, Remuera.

Our eyes, slowly travelling round to take in all these points, are now turned directly away from the harbour. Before us stretches a long road named Symonds Street, leading past the Supreme Court--a brick and stone building of considerable architectural pretension--past the wide cemetery, and allowing beyond a sight of the hospital in the valley below, on till the large suburb of Newton--hardly disconnected at all from the city proper--is reached.

In this direction is situated Government House, a large mansion of wood, standing in park-like grounds, where the English oak, the American maple, the Australian blue-gum, the semi-tropical palm, and the New Zealand kauri mingle their foliage together. Some distance further, and to the left of the road, rises Mount Eden. On one side of it is the gaol, a group of buildings surrounded by a wall and palisades, and situated in a scoria quarry. Among the spurs and declivities of the mount are many villas of the wealthier citizens, standing in well laid-out grounds, and making a very pleasing picture.

We now look right across the densest part of the city, from our first standpoint near St. Matthew's Church. Below is Queen Street, with the roofs of the various buildings already noticed in it. Beyond it there is a corresponding high ground to that on which we are, and behind that again is Freeman's Bay. On the crest of the eminence is St. Paul's "cathedral"--so styled; the princ.i.p.al Anglican church of the city. In the distance the breezy suburb of Ponsonby is pointed out to us, occupying high ground, from which is visible the winding valley of the Waitemata, stretching away up into the hills. Here and there can be seen the spires or belfries of numerous churches and chapels, for Auckland is an eminently religious city, and has temples and tabernacles for almost every Christian creed.

Our companion dilates upon the inst.i.tutions of the city, which are highly creditable to so young a community, and are in advance of those of many European towns of equal population, that can trace back their history considerably further than Auckland's thirty-and-odd years. In matters ecclesiastical and educational the young city is indeed well endowed. There are two bishops, Roman and Anglican, a Presbytery, and governing bodies of other denominations. There is a College and Grammar School of the New Zealand University, common schools in the city, private schools of all sorts and sects, a training school and ship at Kohimarama, an establishment for young clergymen, and convent schools.

There are asylums, orphanages, and refuges.

There are inst.i.tutes and halls belonging to all kinds of societies: Young Men's Christian a.s.sociation, Mechanics, Good Templars, Freemasons, Orangemen, Oddfellows, Foresters, etc. There is the Auckland Inst.i.tute and Museum, the Acclimatization Society, Agricultural Society, Benevolent Societies, etc. There are Cricketing, Rowing, and Yachting Clubs. There is a mayor and City Council, with Harbour Board, Highway Board, Domain Board, and Improvement Commissions. There is the Supreme Court, the District Court, the Resident Magistrate's Court, and the Police Court. There are public and circulating libraries, two daily morning newspapers, an evening newspaper, two weekly newspapers, two weekly journals of fiction, and two monthly religious periodicals.

The city is lighted by gas supplied by a private company; and the water-supply is under munic.i.p.al control. It returns three members to the House of Representatives, while Parnell and Newton each return one. So much and more does our cicerone favour us with, until he has, as he thinks, convinced us that Auckland is really the finest place of residence in the world.

We now pa.s.s down into the city again, taking a new route past the Northern Club, a lofty and unsightly building, whose members are notoriously hospitable, and much given to whist and euchre. Downhill a short distance, and we come to the Albert Barracks, where newly-arrived immigrants are housed, and where most of our sometime shipmates now are.

They are comfortably quartered here for the present, but no incitement is held out to them to remain long, and every inducement is given them to get an engagement and quit as soon as may be. It seldom happens that there is any difficulty in this; usually, indeed, there is a rush to engage the new-comers, so much are servants and labourers, mechanics and artizans in request.

There have been times when would-be employers would go off in sh.o.r.e-boats to the immigrant ship in the harbour, and though not allowed on board, would make efforts to hire domestics and labourers at the side of the vessel. Again, when the government immigrants were landed, and were marched up from the wharf to the barracks, a mob of employers would escort the procession, endeavouring to hire helps, and with such success that sometimes the barracks were hardly needed at all. But such scenes are becoming rarer now, though there must continue, for many years to come, to be a run upon certain cla.s.ses of immigrants, notably single girls for house-servants.[2]

Turning into the barrack-yard, round which are the various buildings where the immigrants are temporarily housed, we find an animated scene before us. Here are a.s.sembled most of our immigrant shipmates, some few of whom have already got engagements and gone off. A considerable party of settlers and agents are now busily at work trying to hire the people they severally want; while the poor bewildered immigrants find themselves treated as though they were goods in an auction-room, and scarcely know whether they are standing on their heads or their heels.

It so happens that there is just now a great demand for agricultural and domestics, so that settlers are actually bidding against each other for the individuals they want to engage. Our ship-load was no special body of people, but a motley collection of men, women, and children from all parts of the old country. Among them are natives of Kent and of Cornwall, of Yorkshire and of Wales, of Inverness and of Galway.

Here are a couple of brothers whom we made special friends with on the voyage, young hardy Scots; let us see how they get on. We find them at a premium, surrounded by a little crowd of farmers from the Waikato, who each and all seem intent on hiring them. The lads do not wish to part if they can help it; and so, as to get one means to get both, the farmers are all the hotter in their pursuit of them. For these young men are just the right sort that are most wanted, having the thews and sinews and power of endurance so necessary for a rough life; having experience of sheep and cattle and agricultural work from their earliest infancy; having, in fact, all the qualities most essential and useful to the pioneer farmer. They come of the right race, too, as all the world knows--colonists especially--for honesty, sobriety, and patient industry.

What a change for them--from the inclement sky, the hostile winter, the rugged battle for life they have left behind them with their native Grampians, to this bright clime of everlasting summer, of strange fertility, to these sunshiny isles of beauty and plenty! Well, well, it is not a land of indolence either; the work demanded here is stern and hard and rough; but what a reward may be reaped in the end from earnest and unshrinking toil! No wonder if, in a year or two's time, our friends yonder will write to the dear ones they left at home, in the Perthshire glen, such an account as shall bear witness that they, at least, have found on earth the Peasant's Paradise!

There is hot and excited bargaining going on in the group of which the brothers form the centre. They are a little dazed, and do not venture to speak; but they are canny for all that, and bide their time. Amid the babel of voices that surrounds us on all sides, we catch a few utterances as follows:--

"Five shillings a day, and your tucker!"

"Five and threepence, lads!"

"He'll give you nothing but salt pork; try me at the same wage!"

"And you'll have to live on potatoes and pumpkins with him!"