Taranaki: A Tale of the War

Front Cover

Back Cover

Title Page

Taranaki:A Tale of the War.withA description of the Province Previous to and During the War;AlsoAn account (Chiefly taken from the despatches)of thePrincipal Contests with the Natives During That Eventful Period. Auckland:Printed and Published byW. C. Wilson.1861. Taranaki:A Tale of the War.

Chapter I. Introductory. “Nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice.”

—Othello.

Most writers agree that, in this busy life of ours, each man who is or happens to have been actively engaged in it, has a tale to tell of his individual experiences more interesting than a tale of fiction or romance. Influenced by such opinion, and feeling its truth from our own experience, we again appear before our kind readers with a description, such as it appeared to us, of Taranaki and some of the incidents that befel this unfortunate Province of New Zealand during those eventful years, 1860 and 1861. But as many are, no doubt, engaged in a like undertaking, our attempt shall take the semblance more of a continuous diary, connecting the chain of events and intermingling those incidents which came under our observation, with our own impressions and descriptions of each; perehance, those impressions might have been more general—for that we care not,—but yet they may be of some interest in their perusal in after years, when the mind that viewed them so has vanished from the earth, and the hand that traced them be no more.

We shall freely use the liberty of a British subject and write of all as we found them; but, in order to prevent ill-feeling, we will in the outset pledge ourselves to avoid, as far as possible, any personal description likely to cause such, and that names of persons shall be fictitious, though, to make our work interesting, domestic scenes and traits of character must be introduced such as they were to be met with during the war.

So much angry discussion has taken place, both at home and abroad, relative to the origin of this outbreak of the Native tribes, that we refrain from dwelling on it, and therefore will only state, as far as we can judge, that the dispute about the correct ownership of a portion of land at Waitara led to its commencement being as a subterfuge only, to enable the Native tribes to assert their position in the affairs of the Island by having an authorised Chief or King, and that therefore the real origin of the War was “the King Movement.”

There is little doubt, as all the newspapers of the day, and opinions put forth at the various public meetings, letters published, pamphlets circulated, &c., shew, that the Church of New Zealand, more particularly its leaders, were instrumental in fomenting, for years previously, this policy of the King Movement amongst their adherents throughout the savage tribes.

According to our own idea, under a blind zeal for the cause they belonged to, and to increase their own individual power over the Native population, it is most, natural also to infer that, after twenty-five years of hardship and labour amongst the tribes, they should feel anxious to inculcate into the minds of their followers a certain desire for equality with the British; whilst, on the other hand, they forgot that the tribes were not fit to obtain a proper view of those principles of freedom or equality with British subjects, being little more than savages, but lately changed from open and direct cannibalism. They, therefore, as we said above, blindly gave them an advantage over the settlers by drawing a contrast between them, the disastrous effect of which they could not or would not foresee, and which they now find they cannot control. Such, then, was the state of feeling towards the settlers previous to the commencement of the war. The English settler was looked upon as an usurper, and the English Government as tyrannical and grasping, aiming at naught but the immediate possession of their lands and extirpation of their race. With such ideas carefully disseminated through the warlike tribes by those who are ever at hand ready to create disturbance and confusion, it is not to be wondered at that the feeling spread far and wide amongst the savage hordes to whom war and depredation was a part and parcel of their nature. It was not long before this feeling began to shew itself, and the sad events that followed in a few short months rendered the smiling valley a desert, and the once happy home a blackened ruin.

Amongst the sufferers were one or two families whose history and fate we purpose to follow, entwined, as it was, with all the incidents of this war, and from their story we may glean at least a correct account of how the war and its calamities affected many others placed in a similar position. Before, however, we introduce this family to our readers, we return to a short description of the Province one year previous to the war.

So many accounts and descriptions of the settlement are before the public, that ours will only be a cursory glance. Its geographical position, lying as it does between 38° and 40° South latitude, and 170° and 175° East longitude from Greenwich, might lead one infer that the climate was similar to that of New South Wales or Victoria; such, however, is not the case, for the heat of summer is considerably lessened by the frequency of South-easterly winds, blowing from Mount Egmont, which is generally covered with snow. These, and the fresh breezes from the sea, tend much to cool and purify the air.

From the height of Mount Egmont, 8,000 feet above the level of the sea, and the range of mountains surrounding, the fall of rain at all seasons of the year is of frequent occurrence, and from the deposits of snow on those ranges and the natural formation of the country, numerous streams, forming deep ravines and gullies, intercept in every part the plateau extending from the base of the ranges to the sea, over a distance of 150 miles from Wanganui to the cliffs beyond the river Waitara.

On a nearer view, these mountain streams, as they may be called, deeply indented as they are, cause a considerable change in what at the first glance seems a level plain, for there is no portion of the earth more interspersed with hill and dale than Taranaki, or which Nature has embellished with a greater number of charming glens and lovely valleys, deep ravines, and retired nooks, from the tortuous windings of these mountain torrents. Equally beneficent has Nature been as to its soil, rich and loamy, with the peculiarity of great depth and without rock or stone. The thoroughly cleared land does not extend in any place beyond three miles from the sea, and in many parts not one; but numerous clearings and homesteads have sprung up within this continuous belt of wooded bush land, extending along its entire face, and, at the time we speak of, the year before the war, there was every prospect of its being a wealthy and fast improving settlement.

Most of the settlers had been men of capital, and had laid out large sums in reclaiming their lands and erecting homesteads, so that, even in spite of the lack of a harbour or port for shipping, it was progressing favourably,—the greatest impediment being the difficulty of purchasing land, and the most injurious principle of Maori reserve, or the law directing that a tenth part of all lands sold or purchased from them should be so reserved.

Of the nature of this arrangement, or the policy of its introduction, we cannot speak; but there cannot be the slightest doubt that it has been the means of lessening the chance of reclaiming the Natives to civilization or accustoming them to the manners of the settlers located among them, thus keeping them wedded to their rude and savage customs, herding together in pahs, as they did one hundred years before. In addition to this was the fatal mistake, so contrary to the time-honored principle of colonization, teaching our own language to the Natives of a new Colony, that of actually making a language, or, at least, forming it into character by an infinity of research, difficulty and labour, by upwards of twenty years' close application and study of the oral powers of those employed in its compilation, and then the teaching to the savage population those characters as the expression of the words and sounds of their native tongue, which was, and has proved a far more tedious and difficult task than the teaching to them a language thoroughly known and understood by the teachers as their native tongue, for, after all, what was the consequence: first, you had to teach the character, which was the English character, then the sound, as learnt by the teacher orally, then the grammar concocted from English, whereas, if at the outset the English itself had been taught, far easier would have been the labour, and vastly more important its results, not only in the facility by which, after the full knowledge of the language was obtained, you could communicate with them universally as a nation akin to us, but also by the breaking down of the savage customs so prejudicial and opposed to those of the Colonists, and other evils felt to this hour.

There are, no doubt, many arguments in favor of forming and teaching the Maori language, but all such are set at rest by the simple reply, “'tis against the interest of Great Britain as a nation, and contrary to the fundamental principles of Colonial polity,” as followed by every colonizing nation since the world began. We need not go back to ancient history as a proof of the soundness of the foregoing policy, and how the Greeks and Romans in their new-founded Colonies invariably taught, and, by the strong arm of might, compelled the Natives to learn their language. But, let us take one single instance in our own times. The philanthropy of England, rescuing from slavery hundreds of the negro population of Africa, do not set to work to cause their officers and agents over those rescued blacks to learn their languages and customs, but employ every means to teach them English, whereby they are now gradually becoming English in their customs and character as a nation. Those who have chosen the soldier's life are, and have ever been, found honest, true, and devoted to their colours as British soldiers: the customs of their fathers forgotten, they lose their nationalty in becoming loyal adherents and staunch defenders of British supremacy. Such, we affirm, would have been the case in New Zealand if the time, labour, and expense, for the last five and twenty years employed in forming a useless and imperfect language, was used in the teaching English and its customs, and using every endeavour to change the native and savage ones to ours, instead of giving way to them in every iota, permitting their customs to be their law in defiance of British law, and cherishing their habits and peculiarities, contrary to moral and revealed religion. Our space does not permit us to enter more at large into this subject, for our object is merely, from individual experience, to write a story, pleasing, beneficial, and truthful for our readers, that they may be led therefrom to form not only a correct impression of the war, but see the real cause in its proper light, of its origin and continuance.

Chapter II. “There lies a vale in Ida, lovelier Than all the valleys of Ionian hills; The swimming vapour slopes athwart the glen, Puts forth an arm, and creeps from pine to pine, And loiters, slowly drawn. On either hand, The lawns and meadow ledges, midway down, Hang rich in flowers; and far below them roars The long brook, falling thro' the clov'n ravine In cataract after cataract to the sea.”

—Tennyson.

Our story opens in the month of August, 1859, some eight months previous to the first act of hostilities with the Natives. Within a few miles of the Town of New Plymouth, there is a winding stream leading through a deep ravine for several miles from the foot of the mountain range of Egmont to the sea. This stream, known as “Matu Taku,” winds through a valley of the most romantic scenery.

Along its borders, and in the glens and lawns, or valleys, formed in its tortuous course, were several of the more wealthy settlers located, whose homes, for the most part, were picturesquely built on some jutting eminence above the dell, or on the brink of the bush that clothed its precipitous sides.

In a corner overlooking one of the most charming scenes on this river, with an extended plateau of level land reaching down to the sea, was situated the then happy homestead of Mr. Wellman, who had emigrated to the Colony some ten years previously, and purchased a large tract of land in and around the locality in which his home was built, which, though as a matter of course, in that early stage of the Colony's existence, was not of any great pretensions to architectural beauty, was, nevertheless, a handsome, comfortable two-storied house in cottage style, with a deep verandah encircling it, and a luxuriant and blooming flower and fruit garden, at the time we write, surrounding it.

Such was the appearance of Glenfairy in the month of August, 1859. The interior of this happy home was complete in every requisite that comfort and good taste could dictate. The proprietor and his estimable lady were of that class of English gentry noted for that homely taste no where found so correct, or in better order than in England; to these, were added, certain little luxurious refinements, ever to be found where ladies' tastes predominate, and Mr. Wellman was too good a husband and fond a father, not to indulge a loving wife and daughters in those little extras so much derived from their taste and care. In a front room of modern dimensions, and adorned as the above description portrays, sat two young ladies, one afternoon in August, the time our tale opens, Fanny and Louisa Wellman, the sisters of Glenfairy, as they were generally spoken of. Fanny, the eldest, had reached her twentieth year, and, though to the casual observer, she might not realize the perfection of poetic imagination as to personal beauty, there was a grace and elegance in her carriage and movements, and a sweet smile ever giving lustre to her soft blue eyes, under the dark fringed eyelash and perfectly arched eyebrow, that could not fail to strike the beholder as something pure and lovely. There was a depth of feeling in the fine forchead, partly concealed beneath the simple braid of light brown hair, which, with the general contour of her regular features, told of one to be deeply truly loved, of superior mind and sweetness of disposition. Her sister, Louisa, had decidedly the advantage as the beauty of face, but it lacked the sweet expression that betrayed the refined and gentle spirit of the elder. She, however, was but fourteen, and had not as yet the advantages and experiences that Fanny had so evidently benefited from, though, indeed, both seemed occupied in attaining such ends; for, whilst Louisa pored over a French book, Fanny was employed on a piece of elaborate embroidery, and was the first to speak.

“Dear Lou., is not that tiresome book yet finished? and will you not come for a walk with me to meet Mary St. Pierre, who, you know, promised to come to Glenfairy to-day?”

Louisa, closing her book cheerfully, rose, and kissing her sister, said, “Dearest Fanny, I am your devoted slave; come, let us go. Mamma I see already awaits us in the garden.”

The becoming little hats and feathers, and neat cloaks, were soon donned, and the girls joined their mother, a lady of quiet and endearing manner, though, to strangers, seeming proud and reserved, which soon thawed off under her real kind nature. She was much loved by all who knew her, though from the reserve and quiet manner natural to her, she seldom mixed with her neighbours. A pleased and happy smile greeted the fair sisters.

“I have been, whilst waiting for you, my children, enjoying a little quiet thought in viewing our beautiful gardens and the pretty view of our fertile fields; how grateful and happy we should be after all our wanderings to have so sweet a home in so healthy a clime. We owe much, my dear children to the all bountiful Giver: may you never forget His mercies, or his His ever-watchful care, nor cease to love, fear, and trust in Him when the hour of trial comes—which, alas, must come as our lot in life.”

Alas! the year had not revolved before the sisters had reason to recal this advice from her they loved and honoured so much.

Leaving the garden they descended by a bush road down the glen, under which their cottage was built; the fresh breezes of opening spring wafted a sweet perfume from the new spring buds of the musk and acacia trees around them.

As they proceeded, a lovely valley opened to their view, an oblong lawn in the ravine, round which the mountain stream meandered, forming a beautiful oasis in the midst of the thickly planted bush and more lofty trees inland, that covered the hills round it.

The joyous voice of Louisa was first heard as they emerged on its margin. “Oh! dearest mamma, what a lovely spot for a pic-nic! let us hail the spring time here with our friends.” Fanny eagerly joined in the petition, which with a smile was assented to, and the three happy hearts were soon engaged in the details of the plans for their rural fěte, which for some time previously, had, if the truth were known, been in contemplation by Mr. and Mrs. Wellman. The plan being satisfactorily arranged, they proceeded to ascend the gorge on the hillside to the road that led through the village towards the grounds of “The Retreat,” to meet Miss St. Pierre. She being the only daughter of a widowed father, was idolized in her home, and under the care of a maiden sister known in the neighbourhood as the good Aunt Dorothy, had grown up a sweet girl of much promise and beauty; but just now she is coming over yon hill on a Shetland pony, all alone, singing snatches of song as she merrily canters on. Let us pause a moment to describe her. Though shorter in stature than Fanny Wellman, and not possessing her grace of figure and deportment, she was of exceeding beauty, a fair child of Northern origin. Her bright, fair hair fell in rich profusion over her neck, fair as virgin snow, and her laughing blue eye, added to the contour of a perfect face, and the blush of her cheeks, a small but determined looking mouth, pearly teeth, and dimpled chin, made her seize you at once, enthralled by her merry laugh; still there was not that deep soft look of our heroine, or that sweet expression that formed the chief attraction and enchantment, with the grace and elegance so natural to Fanny Wellman, they were sworn friends, but the gay and lively Mary looked up to and adored the deep-feeling Fanny. With the spirit and manner of the fawn, as she approached our pedestrians she sprang off her pony and turning him lose on his homeward path, gaily rushing forward embraced her friends.

“Oh, how happy I am to meet you! I have such news to tell: the boys are all at home and cousin Herbert is coming, and papa is to give a fěte, and Aunt Dorothy is so busy, and—and—”

Thus she merrily spoke, as if her heart was too full to give utterance to all, and pausing a moment at her own excitement, her merry laugh joined in by her friends rang over the silent dell, as they now turned their steps towards the village to prolong their walk by a detour to Glenfairy, they happily discussed the arrangement for their parties, which was the custom of the settlers every season as it commenced, in this happy district. Mr. St. Pierre the largest landed proprietor in the Province, had settled in this neighbourhood with his father-in-law some years previously; both were devoted to agricultural pursuits, and Mr. Dickson had, at a considerable outlay, imported, not only the best and most valuable breed of cattle and horses, but also innumerable plants and shrubs with which his splendid gardens were richly stocked; his place “The Mount” was appropriately situated above the Retreat on a plateau of rich pasture land which he had reclaimed from the bush, and was the most picturesque spot in the country, commanding a splendid view of all places round, the winding glades and deep ravines, the many clearings scattered over the plains beneath, and the distant sea. In a wide, extensive amphitheatre under this plateau was the Retreat; the clearing round within the semicircle was of considerable extent and laid out with the greatest care and taste, the border, on the hill-side running three parts round, was clothed with the luxuriant wild bush spots of clearing, were traced here and there where the ascent was more inclined, and above all was seen the rushing stream in a succession of waterfalls winding to the dale, thus forming the brightest ornament of the three places; issuing first from the mountain gorge, it sluggishly passed through the plateau of the Mount, then in devious courses through the plain, increased by two smaller streams from other ravines, it sped over the decline to the glade of the Retreat, half encircling it and passing through the centre of the Village, now, indeed, of only three or four scattered houses, it wound through the dell of Glenfairy, forming the island before mentioned, when with deeper stream it sought the sea a mile below. Most assuredly Nature had adorned this beauteous region with lavish hand, and now art, taste, skill, and capital, had rendered it almost perfect as to situation and clime; not less so was the comfort and happiness of its inhabitants, but the hand of the rude spoiler came and “the peace of the valley was broken”; but why should we forestall events too soon? alas, too soon! The day of sorrow comes, let us not, therefore, anticipate evil.

Chapter III. “For in this land of Heaven's peculiar grace, The heritage of Nature's noblest race, There is a spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest.”

—Montgomery.

Happy was that quiet, merry group, joined now by Mr. Wellman, a perfect gentleman of the old school, a younger son of an old English family in Devonshire, near Taunton, a respected magistrate, a kind father, and, noblest work of God, “a truly honest man.” His second son, Walter—a fine atlethic youth of twenty, the very picture of health and manly beauty, with the fine eye of deep feeling of one sister, and the merry smile of the other, a prototype of his father, and the farmer of the family,—joined them as they left the village road to enter again the grounds of Glenfairy, above the hill, where stretched away to the sea the well cultivated fields of Mr. Wellman. The eldest son, Arthur, being employed by Government at Auckland, in a lucrative post, the father and younger son managed the farms between them Thus, having introduced the principal actors in our story, we proceed.

The Spring of 1859, or rather the month of September, wasushered in with all its beauty and fragrance in the Province of Taranaki, with every appearance of a rich and abundant harvest; happy peace and cheerful contentment seemed to be universal, poverty was unknown, very little sickness was found in the district, and the rich pastures were well supplied with a superior and varied breed of cattle and sheep, imported from England. Many wealthy men were spoken of as coming to purchase land within the Province, and much talk and discussion was going on, relative to opening further the country, by making roads and offering by such means and the sale of lands (on a more extensive scale) an inducement to the better class of men with capital to settle here. The only drawback to the rapid advance in the settlement of the lands was the Maori land-question, still the long vexed question between the Native inhabitants and the Government. As the interest in our story does not lead us into such enquiries, we will not trespass on our readers any dull detail of the pros and cons of Maori rights, or Government sale: suffice it to say that men of capital and a greater flow of the current coin was needed, and though the farmer's barns were full of corn, and his cultivated lands yielded a hundred fold, while his rich pastures were full of sleek cattle, and his flocks with snowy fleeces covered the plains, yet the medium of traffic was required, and barter in produce was resorted to, but found to impede the more quick growth of the general interests of the settlement. These remarks are sufficient to show the real state of the Colony at the time we write, and how desirable it was to open up the Country, and bring men of capital as settlers to the Province.

The cousin spoken of in the preceding chapter was a Captain in Her Majesty's — of the line, then quartered in India; he had not ever been in New Zealand, but had lived close to his uncle's place in England, and was most intimate with his cousins previous to his entering the army and their emigrating. Mr. St. Pierre having been left his guardian on the death of his father, some three years previous to the opening of our story, had invested the portion that was then left to his care in the Province of Taranaki, considered a most fortunate and good investment; thus a constant communication was kept up, and, although his widowed mother resided in Devonshire, England, yet he had procured leave of absence to visit his relatives in New Zealand and see after his property there. This visit was long talked of, long expected, and therefore his cousin Mary was naturally pleased at the prospect of meeting the dear companion of her childhood, though now, as he was grown to manhood, a soldier of some years' standing, he was almost forgotton. Captain Herbert St. Pierre was also fair, as the St. Pierres of Taranaki, tall and well formed, though, from a sabre cut across his face, and severe duty through the Indian Mutiny and Indian Campaign, he appeared much older than he really was, and whatever he might have been in a former day, he now had no claim to be deemed good looking; he had, however, the bright blue eye and smile of his cousin, and was of affable and intelligent manners and disposition, a general favourite amongst his acquaintances, and being of a studious character and fond of amusing his mother and friends with descriptions of his wanderings, we were able to obtain some of those written at this period; we therefore select one written to his mother shortly after his arrival at his uncle's, as giving a pleasing and faithful description of the country and his impressions as a stranger landing there, to which we devote a new chapter.

Chapter IV. “I have not seen the place could more surprise, More beautiful in Nature's varied dyes.”

—Ben Jonson.

“I will now, dearest mother, give you some idea of New Zealand and our home in Taranaki, as it appeared to me.

“You are aware that I left Point de Galle to pick up the Australian steamer in July last, and had to remain in Melbourne, still not recovered from my wounds after the fall of Lucknow, and the battle of which, as I have in my previous letter, told you of, till I procured a passage in the “Pirate” steamer to Nelson, from thence I went on to Taranaki by the colonial steamer “Airedale,” and landed in that fair country on the 11th instant.

“I need not tell you with what pleasurable feelings, when on board the “Pirate” bound for Nelson, I saw the first land-mark of the Province, Mount Egmont, under whose towering height I well knew lived my uncle and cousins, so oft described to me by them. You can easily judge how, after so long an absence, I hailed the first glimpse of the land where they dwelt. This object was before us most of our trip across the channel, and as we afterwards approached along the Western coast.

The first view of the country from Wanganui to the Sugar Loaves, a group of high rocks close to the Bay of Taranaki near the shore was pleasing in the extreme, a rich pasture country was before us, known as the Tataramaka Block, and here and there we saw as we steamed along close to the shore, deep ravines and rushing mountain torrents descending from the range of mountains in the interior to the sea. I thought it the most charmingly romantic country I had ever seen, nor has now a nearer and more particular survey of it in anywise altered my opinion. 'Tis really a most romantic country and all seemed charming to us gliding along its shore, with the hills and plains covered with flocks and herds or the rich corn fields in early growth, and the pretty cottages scattered in each nook o'er some deep ravine or by the wooded glen as the very picture of Arcadia, a prosperous and happy country.

“The first objects ere you open the Bay of Taranaki are the two high rocks rising some three to four hundred feet out of the sea, close to the shore: in the centre of this Bay on undulating ground, is the town of New Plymouth. Its appearance was as a scattered township with Marsland hill rising in the centre of it, on the top of this hill are the Barracks, enclosed with a palisading of rough hewn logs; a long spur of the hill extends at the back some 500 yards, and is levelled as a parade ground. The town consists of only two streets going up and down both ways, crossing each other in the valley, so formed by the hills round, and where two streams from opposite sides converge as they enter the sea; the houses are all of wood and for the most part comfortable-looking, of two stories, with gardens behind, picturesquely extending down each declivity to the rivers, the banks planted with weeping willows.

“There being no wharf, as the Bay is an open roadstead, the landing is always effected by means of strong surf boats, and as the surf is often very high, passengers have to be carried by the boatmen on shore; still so expert and active are these men, that even in the constant landing of goods in rough weather, little or no damage is done, and it is only in very stormy weather that their boats cannot discharge goods and passengers; a strong hawser, some 150 feet, fastened to a buoy and to the shore, enables them to pull the boat ashore and prevents it broaching-to. There are one or two good hotels in the town, and a good supply of meat, fruit, vegetables, &c.

“The interior of the country all throughout possesses the same attractive appearances, narrow glades and successive hills, divided by defiles, some cultivated, others covered with rich grasses and ferns, through which course innumerable streams, which add much, with all their windings, and the glens and valleys they form, to the natural beauty. As you ride along any road scarce one hundred yards is passed that some lovely dale and pretty sweep or indention in the hill-side does not meet your view: the ground is rich, of fine alluvial soil, easily cultivated, watered as it is by a thousand ever-flowing streams. These were my ideas as I rode to the Retreat, the greater sweep of which is formed in a valley beneath a long jutting range of hills from the more lofty heights of Egmont, which appeared to me like steps, first, the mountain rising grandly to the skies, its peak covered with snow and cloud, then the long range of pine-covered hill stretching towards the sea; next the level plain, beneath the beautiful place and lands of the Mount—Mr. Dickson's place—a belt of bush surrounding it, and then the valley lower down in form of a semicircle with streams coursing round it; lastly, the deep ravine with wooded sides through the village past Glenfairy, where your old acquaintance Mr. Wellman lives, down to the tumbling surf of the bright blue sea.

“You know, dearest mother, how romantically inclined I am, and how amused you have ever been at my glowing description of the wild bush and jungle forest whilst on my hunting trips in Northern India; you may fancy then how I have wandered over the quiet glens of this sweet land, where no savage beasts or noxious reptiles of any kind are ever found; and though I love the wild excitement and the danger of the extensive jungle, I love no less to wander over those hills and dales, many of which were now my own.

“My uncle's grounds are most beautiful, and his sheep farms well cleared and fenced, whilst also he pays much attention to agricultural work, which one of my cousins entirely superintends. The house of two stories, all of wood, is extensive and most comfortable, lately furnished, from England in costly style; a deep verandah surrounds the main part of the house, and is covered over with rose trees, clematis and other kinds of creepers—for this is the land of creepers, and almost every tree in the forest and bush has got its parasite, which makes the bush so difficult to walk through, as they constantly extend along the ground, and up from tree to tree. A very pretty flower garden, with many of England's rarest shrubs and flowers, extends from the house front towards the edge of the ravine, which has been laid out in shady walks, and a miniature lake, formed by the river in a little valley, is full of aquatic plants, water lilies, &c.; this valley is called the “Labyrinth,” and is really so; but rustic seats are here and there built under some over-shadowing tree, where the weary may rest when tired, or bewildered, as I at first was, in pursuing all the tortuous paths through it. I need not tell you how pleased I was with my reception here, and how glad I was to renew my good uncle's and cousins' acquaintance; they are so kind, and seem so happy, that I cannot pourtray them in as good and true a light as they deserve. My uncle looks very little older than when we met nine years ago, and is in much better health and spirits. He takes great interest in his place, and farms, or clearings, as he calls them up in the bush. Each of his sons has had a selection of 50 acres, and he has added 100 more to each, of purchased land, besides his own purchase and grant around the Retreat. I have not seen mine yet, but am told they are of the same style of country as round here, which to my taste is very fine. You are aware that William, my eldest cousin, has a sheep station about 100 miles from Otago, and is doing well; George is employed in the same office as young Wellman, of whom I will speak again; his family are our nearest neighbours, as I said before, and my uncle is following the same plan as the elder Mr. Wellman, of having one son always with him, assisting in the farming: thus Charles is the great farmer of the family, and the only one now at home: he is a fine strong fellow, cheerful and hearty, a fearless rider, and a crack shot; he met me with my uncle at the beach on landing, and I am afraid the contrast of his handsome ruddy face, and my poor sallow one, was sadly to my disparagement; such, however did not seem to appear to any one, save myself, for all were most kind and attentive. Mary, whom I saw last, I speak of last, she is now grown into a young woman, though not tall, very pale looking, with very fair hair as of old, and as gay and wild at eighteen as she was at nine. Aunt Dorothy who rules the interior economy of the house, keeps her in order, though she evidently idolizes her.

“The first evening of our acquaintance we became the greatest of friends, the formal captain was dropped in a short time and Herbert substituted unless when strangers were by and Aunt Dorothy looking; and then it was quite musing to hear her faltering voice from the suppressed smile, call me “Captain St. Pierre.” She told me of all her friends and of one in particular that she calls her angel friend, and whom she says, I must fall in love with, the moment I see her—Miss Wellman. I am to be introduced as soon as possible to all the folks in this neighbourhood; but I hope I will be left alone for a few days to see all the beauties of this country first, and to make some trips with Charles into the bush land and see my own romantic glens and vales. There is only a mail from this once a month, so I will write to you each time, of all I do, as usual.”

Chapter V. “Fair clime where every season smiles, Benignant o'er those blessed isles.”

—Byron.

Though the settlement of Taranaki was but yet in its infancy, being comprised for the most part of men of capital and of the better class from their native country, chiefly from Devonshire, there was no lack of the refinements of life such as are met with there, and though the Church of England and the Missionaries were devoted exclusively to the education of the Maori population—erroneously, according to the opinion of many,—there was no question as to their zeal and industry in the task. Schools by the settlers themselves and their pastors were formed in each new sprung community and township. Private and more select means of education were also to be found in those places; thus in the village close to Glenfairy two maiden sisters of no ignoble birth and good education resided in a neat cottage near the sea, where they gladly received pupils from the neighbouring families and taught all the polite branches of female acquire- mentsacquirements, more especially music, in which they much excelled. (So far indeed had this most agreeable of all sciences advanced in this part of the Colony, that scarce a homestead was to be found amongst the better classes without its piano or harp, and musical parties were quite the rage, not only in New Plymouth, but throughout the settlement.) Thither the Glenfairy sisters were wont to attend as constant pupils of the Misses McQueen, and the cottage being within easy distance of both Glenfairy and the Retreat, Mary St. Pierre was frequently their companion. Thus was the friendship and intimacy increased between them.

The district also boasted of more than one school where boys, as well as young men, attended during the leisure hours of eventide, after the farm work of the day was closed, and an hour or two could be devoted to the improvement of their minds.

It was on the forenoon of the 12th September that, as the sisters were preparing for their usual walk to the cottage, Mary St. Pierre made her appearance and informed them of the arrival of her cousin, Captain St. Pierre, and that now no obstacle would intervene to prevent the contemplated festivities. She also informed them of a visit from the Colonel commanding the troops in New Plymouth, who had been at the Retreat that day, bringing an invitation to all their party to an amateur theatrical performance and ball.

Thus from the foregoing sketch, we see that the Province of Taranaki possessed many advantages, and that considerable progress was being made in its advacement as a complete and happy settlement. A rich soil repaid one hundredfold the toil and expense of clearing; running streams everywhere abounded; the climate equable and healthy in the highest degree; scenery most diversified and romantic; flowers, fruit and garden produce of every kind easily brought to perfection. These were the advantages common to the Province. On the other hand, there were other drawbacks which, at the time we write of, the settlers had to contend against. They had not a sufficient market for their abundant produce, the roadstead was at times unsafe for shipping, and, in winter especially, vessels whilst loading or unloading their cargoes had to put to sea before half the work was done. Insurances therefore were exorbitant, and freight in consequence inordinately high. It frequently also happened that their exports, such as corn and cattle, had to await the arrival of vessels until injured by the delay, or the market lost. There being no road to any other settlement, the farmers had to depend upon this precarious mode of export.

Though there was no actual poverty in the Province, the want of a market and of a circulating medium was a serious evil to the whole community. No land could be purchased except from the Government, who had allowed a long and tiresome dispute to continue between them and the Natives. This caused a closing of all lands for sale either to the old settler or the new comer, thus preventing the influx of capital which would have saved it from the evils above alluded to, and consequent upon its isolated position.

Chapter VI. “Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills, Over the lakes and the plains, Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream, The spirit he loves remains.”

—Shelley.

Captain St. Pierre to His Mother. “After more than a month's interval, during which I have enjoyed life in this Province, I will give you a resumé of my experience therein. My first impressions have not been altered, and each ride or trip I take I see fresh scenes of beauty, and where Nature with most lavish hand has formed the landscape romantic and enchanting. I have visited the clearings in the bush, and everywhere the soil is rich and fertile, well watered with ever-flowing streams, and of the same description of scenery as already portrayed to you in my former letter, and I look forward with much pleasure and anxiety to the time when I may be able to beat my sword into a pruning-hook, and retire to this charming country of such glen and glade, where my taste for flowers may be indulged—where gardens may be made with every aspect from the great diver- sitydiversity of hill and valley—for the propagation of plants of every clime under the sun.

“Some days after my arrival, a party was made to visit one of the largest and finest farms in the settlement, Mr. Garde of Tataramaika, consisting of young Wellman, my cousin Charles, and a Mr. Hullwake, a gentleman with whom we were to breakfast. We started at early morning, and reached Poutako about half-past eight, where we were courteously received by two young ladies, the Misses Hullwake. Their home is a pretty cottage built on the side of a glen, and commanding a view of the sea, with a babbling brook seen at intervals flowing below their garden and shrubbery down to the shore. After breakfast we were detained for a short time to be initiated into the mysteries of cheese-making, for which our worthy host has a fair repute in the district. I was much pleased with the acquaintance, as we could not have found a more agreeable companion, or one of more general information. The day was fine, and after the late rains, the country was all fresh and green. On each side of the road the orchards and gardens expand throughout the vale. Further on are hill and dale, woods, gay fields, and glimpses of the distant mountain, sunny, rippling, joyous springs, affording altogether views of such landscapes as rendered Taranaki truly the Garden of New Zealand. Sometimes our road lay along the shore, and again we would travel over hill and dale; still of the same picturesque and diversified scenery. After some miles we reached an extensive plain, known as the Tataramaika block. There we entered upon the splendid farm lands of Mr. Garde, some seven to eight hundred acres in extent, and as we made several halts and detours to see the different views of the scenery, and the many comfortable homesteads throughout the district, it was late in the afternoon ere we reached our destination, where we were hospitably entertained, and remained the following day inspecting all the farm operations. It would weary you for me to enter into the particulars of my various trips, and still I must detail one or two of our picnic excursions and fětes which I have been present at. Of the latter, one, given in honor of the arrival of your devoted son, came off on the 20th instant, of course with great éclat, where I acted the part of principal guest, as Mary says, to admiration—and danced and flirted with all the girls to my heart's content. I often recall to mind your lectures on the subject, but I cannot always attend to them when in the gay and glittering throng of youth and beauty. My uncle's house was turned inside out for the occasion: the gardens and labyrinth in the glen were hung with lamps, although the bright full moon shone as clear almost as day, but with a cooler and more chastened light, enabling the festive group, during the intervals of dancing, to promenade through the open grounds; refreshments were laid out under the trees. I cannot describe all the gay and fair I met. The chief attraction in the room was a Mrs. Norwood, a lady of considerable beauty, highly informed, and ac- complishedaccomplished, who played and sung in brilliant style. The officers of the garrison aided with their gay uniforms to enliven the scene. The return fěte of Glenfairy took place ten days later, and was of a similar description, though, as there was no moon, we assembled earlier, rambled through the grounds and to the seashore until sunset, when dancing commenced in a large barn gaily decorated with flowers and evergreens. It was indeed a gay party and one to be pleasingly remembered by me.

“Next affair on the roll worthy of retailing to you is one of our frequent picnics. I select one from my note book, when some eighteen equestrians started at early morn for the Waitara, ten miles distant, intending to halt half way to breakfast. The morning was beautiful, and, after a sharp canter of five miles, we reached the Waiongaua river, whither the viands had been despatched before us, to be prepared by ourselves. Passing the Bell Block plateau of rich land and fine cultivated farms around, the road led through the Maori reserve over the rapid stream of Mungaraka by the pa of Mahau, a venerable old chief who came out to meet us; and from thence we entered on the valley of the Waiongaua, where we halted on a lovely spot chosen as a site for our repast. Two young ladies—the Misses Kerr and Noble—being chosen as directors, set to work with their appointed officers to kindle fire and prepare breakfast, which was done to perfection. Loitering here for an hour or so, we again took horse about ten and proceeded through a level fern land to the banks of the larger river Waitara, near to the Native pa of Huirangi, and halted in a most charming valley formed by the winding of the river, and known as the valley of the Waitera. Here boats and fishing tackle were provided for some, whilst others with sketch books chose the prettiest prospects to portray; others wandered over hill and glen, whilst our fair lady directors with chosen assistants selected a suitable spot for dinner and to prepare it. At three all met again in a lovely nook over the river under the shade of karaka trees, commanding a charming view of the river and of the sea in the distance. All were as in the morning, merry and gay: each recounted their various fortunes and adventures during the day until 5 o'clock, when we again mounted and returned not to our several homes, but to Woodlands, a gentleman's place in the neighbourhood of New Plymouth, where a dance and supper at a late hour closed a whole livelong day of pleasure and enjoyment—as a writer of the day would say, ‘unsurpassed in the annals of history.’ As for my individual happiness of the day, I can only say I was a chosen cavalier of Miss Wellman, and acquitted myself to my own entire satisfaction.

“I fear I have already extended the limits of space in this letter, though I could write long and unwearied on the subject, and my happiness during my residence in this Province. I am about to leave it soon, however, and in face of all the ills and drawbacks the Colony suffers from, there seems to be much comfort and happiness amongst all classes. I trust under a wise Government those evils will at least be diminished, ere I again visit these shores, where I hope eventually to become a settler.”

Chapter VII. “The wandering mariner whose eye explores The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores, Views not a realm so bountiful and fair, Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air. Here woman reigns: the mother, daughter, wife, Strew with fresh flowers the narrow path of life: In the clear heaven of her delightful eye An angel-guard of loves and graces lie.”

—J. Montgomery.

Thus, as in the preceding chapter, wrote Captain St. Pierre. And certainly, if his continued attention to the fair ladies of Glenfairy spoke the feelings of his heart, there was little doubt of the impression made on him. No clouds seemed to darken the horizon of his wishes in this respect. A welcome and an honoured guest in his uncle's house, he was courteously received everywhere. Besides having received a liberal education—a graduate of Oxford—he had taken his degree as a Bachelor of Medicine; but not fancying the profession, he had obtained a Commission in the Line. During nine years' service he had acquired a fund of general knowledge, which, added to a pleasing address, made him a general favourite. (He had also distinguished himself repeatedly both in the Crimea and afterwards during the Indian Mutiny.) It was not to be wondered at, therefore, that as he daily continued his visits to Glenfairy, Fanny Wellman could recive his marked attention without a certain feeling of reciprocation to a devotion so apparent.

'Tis true that, although this intimacy was at first admitted and approved of, yet as there were some who spoke unkindly of him and of his profession in general, as being comprised of men whose feelings—blunted by a contact with the world—sought more the éclat of a conquest over the trusting heart, than the more firm affection of truth and constancy, instilled into the mind of the anxious mother these opinions, and made her alarmed for the peace of mind of her child, whom, she could not hide from herself, was already devotedly attached to the young soldier. Circumstances, however, seemed to combine to prevent her having an explanation with him previous to his departure and return to his regiment. Thus the unkind and disparaging expressions from one or two who watched the growing intimacy with jaundiced eyes, served only to increase her embarrassment and the unhappiness of her daughter, to whom she had communicated her opinions; thus also it happened that Captain St. Pierre, being of a most sensitive nature, took alarm, and felt deeply hurt by the estrangement daily increasing in the conduct and manner of the family of Glenfairy towards him. In vain did Mary rally her cousin, in vain also did she seek the confidence of her friend. On the one hand, the vile aspersions so industriously and secretly spread against the soldier made all unhappy at Glenfairy; on the other hand, the sudden change thus produced made him shun a closer intimacy, and avoid an explanation, a thousand times on his lips to unfold. On both sides was the opportunity lost, and every meeting made both more unhappy and more estranged. Thus time flitted by, and the hour of his departure drew near. He resolved, however, ere he went to know his fate; and, dissembling as well as he could his anxious feelings, he besought his cousin to join him in a walk to Glenfairy, that he might meet Miss Wellman once more ere he left for India. Fortune seemed even in this last attempt against him. No opportunity occurred during the walk, when, as he was about to return in despair, Fanny entered the drawing-room alone, and he, seizing the chance, followed as if to say farewell. Taking her hand he thus addressed her:—

“I have long sought for this moment; forgive me now if I fail to tell you all I feel, or how I have loved you. Tell me why, ere I leave you, this sad estrangement? Tell me how it is that you, whom I deemed as deeply attached to me, should have grown so cold and distant? Do not now permit me to leave this country, where I have been so happy and so blest in knowing and loving you, miserable and unhappy; for in very truth I love you deeply and most truly.”

At his first address Fanny evidently was deeply dis- tresseddistressed and pained, but, as he spoke, gradually a deep blush overspread her face, and sinking on the sofa near, she burst into tears, as Mary's voice called him to come. Leaning over her he said farewell; but she raised her head, and with a fond sweet smile replied:—

“I have loved you long and will do so for ever.” One kiss on that fair brow, and he was gone.

Happy now were the feelings of both. True they had parted; but full trust was restored—the sad cloud was dispelled, and he now knew that he was truly loved in return. As he turned homewards with Mary St. Pierre, this happiness made him confidential, and he told her how he had loved and won. Committing to her trust this bright secret of his life, he told her he would soon return with a longer leave from India, sell out, and claim her friend as his bride.

Great was the delight of the true-hearted girl. Scarce had they arrived at the Retreat ere Charles met them, who informed Herbert that the steamer was in the Bay, and was to depart in a few hours. A few hasty messages of his truth and constancy—a kind but sad farewell—and he had left his uncle's house and sailed from Taranaki.

The following day, as Fanny rose to bless the morn in the hope of seeing Herbert once more, and have all doubt and pain removed, the sad face of Mary, visiting her at this early hour, told its painful story, and ere a word was spoken the friends wept on each other's neck for the absent one, now so doubly dear to both.

One of the messages entrusted to Mary was, that now, having learnt that there was some cause for the estrangement—by the ill spoken of him—their secret should be kept inviolable, in order that he might with greater pleasure prove his truth on his return, and confound the aspersions cast against his character. Mary would be his friend and confidante, and receive notice of all his movements and intentions.

When Mrs. Wellman met the girls at breakfast the traces of tears were still evident, and chiding Mary for her folly in weeping for one she deemed unworthy of her, though her own heart was sad, she considered it more prudent to advise that his name be no more mentioned amongst them; believing the tales against him were true, and that time would cure her daughter of her grief. Little did she know how that grief was tempered with joy from the hasty confidence established between them at the moment of his farewell.

The year 1859 passed away, and well pleased was Mrs. Wellman to see Fanny mix in all the gaieties of Christmas as of old, and already she imagined the soldier was forgotten. The new year, however, soon brought other cares, and unexpected causes of alarm and grief. The insurrection of the native tribes was spoken of, and the signs of their rising became apparent. The settlers petitioned for more troops to defend and protect them from the threatened outbreak. The militia were called out and volunteers enrolled, and the dread of an onslaught from the savage Maoris was rife amongst them.

The months of January and February thus were passed in a state of great excitement; but early in March the storm burst suddenly upon them.

In the task we have undertaken to give a sketch of the war in the Province of Taranaki, by a story of the incidents in the life of one or two families there; it would take up too much space to enter into full detail of the war in all its operations, or even to record the despatches before us. To give an insight, however, into its progress we purpose to give certain extracts from those despatches, and, to keep up the interest of our story, shew how the war affected those of whom we write.

Thus, then, we quote from the Despatch of the Governor to the Duke of Newcastle, dated 22nd March, 1860:—

“The unsettled state of the tribes both North and South of that district, and the continuance of the King Movement, led me to think it necessary to take every possible precaution to prevent bloodshed, the consequence of which it would be impossible to foresee.

“Private letters are full of surmises and alarms, and talk of a war of races; but I do not put faith in them, or anticipate any real opposition, when the Chief Wm. King sees that I am determined not to permit him to defy Her Majesty's Government.

“I now turn to what is in my opinion the real question at issue. The Maoris have seen with alarm the numerical increase of the Europeans, and recog- niserecognise with bitterness of heart their own decrease. It is in vain to suggest precautions which might be adopted, and which would (under God's providence) probably arrest or diminish this decrease; they connect their own decline with our ascendency; they talk and think of themselves as a race dying out; and the King Movement, and the Land League, are only practical results of this feeling. The old savages, of whom there are still many, remind their hearers that the decrease of their nation commenced with the arrival of the Europeans, and they have a firm superstition that we are in some way connected with it.

“From the best information I can obtain, I am led to believe that the present is an exceedingly critical time; the progress of civilization, which I have watched and reported with so much satisfaction, and the increased community of interest between the races—especially in the North—has alarmed the chiefs and others who cling to a distinct nationality, and has led to extensive combinations on these grounds against what they term foreign dominion.”

Our readers will excuse us if we also quote an extract from a Memorandum at this period, written by the Minister for Native Affairs, Mr. Richmond, at the request and for the information of the General Assembly, and which gives as concise and clear a view of the matter as could be obtained from any source:—

“That a war between Natives and Settlers would be of a most merciless character is probable, from the approbation which many of the Waikato Natives ex- pressexpress of the murders of defenceless settlers perpetrated by the Taranaki and Ngatiruanui Tribes. These people have shown that they are still savages, as rapacious and bloodthirsty as their forefathers. May it not be justly feared that in a contest with the settlers the impressions produced on the Natives by forty years of Christian teaching would be obliterated? Former wars had a chivalrous character which cannot be looked for in the impending struggle.

“The Colonists, as a body, are in no degree responsible, directly, or through their representatives, for the existing state of affairs. They have never had the direction of Native policy. Nor have they dictated, or even suggested, the acts of the Imperial Government in its relations with the Natives. But they approve of the stand made by His Excellency in the Taranaki case, and are naturally willing, as their present attitude proves, to risk life itself in the maintenance of the Queen's authority over the islands of New Zealand.

“At the same time it is evident that the resources of so small a community are unequal to sustain, unaided, a prolonged war with the Aborigines.” Industrial pursuits would be brought to a stand-still. Under continued pressure the better part of the population would drain off to neighbouring Colonies—their places being supplied by lawless and desperate men from both shores of the Pacific. The Colony, in a word, would be ruined. Nor would the Natives themselves fare better. The contending forces would be nearly matched, and the weak cannot afford to be merciful. All modes of warfare would be deemed legitimate against a savage foe; and though the Maoris might for a time gain the ascendant, their ultimate extermination would be a matter of certainty.

“Justice, therefore, and humanity require, that England should freely recognize the onerous duties cast upon her by the Colonization of New Zealand. To avert calamities such as seem to impend, it is indispensable to place at the disposal of the Governor a Military and Naval force, adequate to support him in a policy of equal justice to the two races which have been placed by Providence in a relation to each other so singular and difficult.

“(Signed) C. W. Richmond.”

As mentioned before, the militia were called out, and as both Mr. Wellman and Mr. St. Pierre obtained commissions for their sons, Charles and Walter were present in most of the engagements, marches, and expeditions which we will have occasion to detail.

The first act of hostility occurred at Waitara, on the 19th March, 1860, and is thus described by Colonel Gold:—

“We passed the pah, which was about one and a quarter miles' distance from this, leaving it 200 yards to our left, and took up a position suitable for Artillery, having the Mounted Volunteers on the extreme right, to threaten the line of retreat of the enemy, and the Infantry, part extended and part in companies, to protect the guns, I then sent a summons to the Natives to surrender, by Mr. Parris, whose services have been very valuable throughout; he speedily returned, and reported that the rebels would neither read nor receive it.

“The guns and rockets now opened upon the pah at about 750 yards. In half an hour I moved to the right to batter another face at shorter range, when the Natives opened fire upon us. I again took the same direction, and fired at about 300 yards. Having made considerable havoc on this side, and a swamp debarring our further progress, I took ground to the left, when a rash but daring movement of the Volunteer horsemen occurred towards the pah. A heavy an well sustained fire was then opened upon us from two faces, on which occasion Mr. Sartin of the Mounted Volunteers, and two privates, 65th Regiment, were dangerously wounded; one of the latter, private William Corbett, I regret to say, is since dead. The enemy's musketry was silenced by the guns, and I continued the movement as far as the road on which we advanced in the morning, 200 yards from the pah, where we should have commenced operations at first, had it not been necessary to make a show of turning the rebels' flank, ere I summoned them to surrender.”

Thus commenced hostilities in Taranaki. On the following morning they were resumed by a brisk fire from the forces and by a cannonade from the guns, when, on a breach being effected, the pah was rushed and taken at the point of the bayonet, but found to be deserted. In this engagement our two young friends made their debût in arms, and elicited the commendation of their commanding officer for their steadiness and coolness under fire, which was kept up very briskly during the afternoon from the pah.

Chapter VIII. “Meanwhile had spread in the village the tidings of ill, and on all sides Wandered, wailing from house to house, the women and children. * * * * * Piled in confusion lay the household goods of the peasants. * * * * * All day long the wains came lumbering down from the village.” * * * * *

—“Evangeline.”

As soon as the Southern Settlers were informed that hostilities had thus actually commenced, and that the tribes still to the south of them were preparing to join in the conflict, they were filled with consternation. Knowing, from the character of these tribes—ever a villainous and treacherous race—that utter devastation would follow in their train, they determined at once to abandon their homesteads and farms and proceed to New Plymouth for mutual protection. Great, therefore, was the distress, anguish, and confusion, more particularly among the peasants and small farmers, who, not having the means of conveying with them their chattels, were compelled to leave them to the mercy of a ruthless foe. Neither, indeed, did our friends pass unscathed from the general calamity, and in one day it was alike the misfortune to all to abandon their comfortable and happy homes for the discomforts of a crowded town, little above the size of an ordinary village in England. With firm heart, however, and confidence in a higher power, Messrs. Wellman and St. Pierre prepared to seek shelter with their neighbours—and sad, indeed, and disheartening was the group that, on the 20th March, 1860, left the precincts of Glenfairy and the Retreat. As fate would have it, they met on their way, and, with a cheerful voice of salutation, each vied with the other to dispel the gloom of their hearts, in their leaving those abodes that years of toil and expense had reared.

Fanny and Mary rode together—the heart of each was full—entire confidence was now between them—and Mary communicated to her friend her little secret also, and the compact of mutual love that had been established between her and Walter, who now rode up to join the party, and with lusty voice bade them be cheerful, infusing by his manner fresh courage into their drooping spirits, which was no easy task to do as they passed along the crowded road. Nor could they see so many of their fellow-settlers in that melancholy procession, flying from their firesides, without sorrow and pity. It was, indeed, a sad scene, and one difficult to depict, as o'er hill and dale and down each winding road, came group on group in varied style—some with teams laden with their property—others urging on their steeds, not even having tarried to saddle them; then came waggons and bullock drays filled with children—a motley scene indeed—but all, alas! filled with gloomy forebodings for the future.

Mr. Wellman's family was kindly received in the house of an old friend, one of the most comfortable in the town, but still, from its crowded state, a great distress of mind to the more sensitive feelings of Mrs. Wellman,—one who was ever cautious not to intrude on any, and deeply felt the dire necessity which compelled them thus to encroach upon her friends. A house lately built and fitted as a goods store was taken by the St. Pierres, and though much cramped as to room, and changed from the spacious mansion they had left, with Aunt Dorothy's careful and energetic spirit, and Mary's cheerful one, their position compared to that of many others was enviable. Thus were our friends housed on the first outbreak of the war, but still hope was great with them, that the energetic measures about to be adopted would, ere long, restore them to their homes. Thus, also, in the hour of trial and sorrow, Mary sought the warm friendship of Fanny Wellman, and they often met to cheer each other and enjoy sweet counsel regarding those dear absent ones, for Walter had now departed for the field with his company, where an engagement was hourly expected.

All available buildings and houses of every descrip- tiondescription were soon occupied and filled to overflowing by the settlers from every part of the country around. From lack of occupation of the land and desertion of their farms, it was found absolutely necessary to issue rations to most of the families in the place; thus, in a few days, this smiling Province was deserted and abandoned to a wretched tribe of lawless savages. The picture is now, indeed, reversed, and we must tell of that war which continued without intermission for twelve months.

Chapter IX. “O'er peaceful realms that smiled with plenty gay Has desolation spread her ample sway: Thy blast, oh ruin! on tremendous wings Has proudly swept o'er empires, nations, kings; Thus the wild hurricane's impetuous force, With dark destruction works its whelming course, Despoils the woodland's pomp, the blooming plain, Death on its pinions, vengeance in its train.”

—Mrs. Hemans.

In following the progress of our story it will be necessary for us to depart from our friends a little, in order to particularize some of the leading events of the war. As our opinion may be faulty, or that expressed by the characters of our tale may be considered as prejudiced, we will not follow the usual custom in story, and we trust our readers will excuse us copying largely from the despatches before us, in order that we may have at least a truthful account to lay before them.

At this time the hostile Maories vaunted that they would drive the Pakehas (or the English) into the sea, and to carry out this laudable intention on their part, they overran the country, committing all sorts of depredation, murder, and rapine. At first, indeed, though thoroughly gutting the houses, they left most of them standing, as it was said that they might, when their vaunt was carried out, use them as their dwellings.

Thus they formed marauding parties all over the Province, so that New Plymouth and the two forts, Omata and Bell Block, were in an actual state of siege.

Large armed escorts being required to protect all parties, or supplies to and from them, martial law was of course proclaimed, and free passages provided for all families wishing to leave Taranaki for Auckland, Nelson, or Wellington, where the inhabitants in the most friendly manner offered to shelter the refugees. Many availed themselves of these offers, still several remained, some from the anxiety for those dear to them who were enrolled in the Militia, others from the natural disinclination to leave a place so dear to them—though devastated, still clinging to it, willing rather to face privation there, than dependance upon strangers elsewhere.

On the former account our friends would not quit it, as all the gentlemen of both families had volunteered for service, and they preferred rather to do their own household duties in the absence of servants, who, in the crowded state of the town and the compulsory means used afterwards to force all women and children to leave, gave up their situations and the settlement altogether.

We now come to the second act of the drama, the engagement between the rebels and the troops at Waireka, thus described by Colonel Murray, Captain Cracroft, R.N., and Captain Brown commanding the Militia, by extracts from their despatches. Thus, Colonel Murray states,—

“The plan of operations was, Captain Charles Brown, in command of the Militia and Volunteers, should proceed by the beach, keeping the sea coast, and passing in rear of the Natives, who had built a pah on the Waireka Hills, whist I should proceed by the main road with a view to dislodge a party of rebels reported to have taken up a position at a spot called Whaler's Gate, for the purpose of cutting off the communication between Omata and the town. In the meantime, Captain Brown, should he succeed in recovering the European families, was to join me at or near this spot. On reaching the spot named, I found the road clear and no trace of Natives anywhere near. I accordingly moved on leisurely, with a view to sooner meeting Captain Brown; but on reaching the top of a hill about a quarter of a mile on this side of the Omata stockade, the sound of rapid firing, about two miles and a half towards the sea, made it evident that the Volunteers were hotly engaged. I accordingly pushed on to the stockade, when I despatched Lieutenant Blake, R.N., with his men, supported by a subdivision of the company, 65th Regiment, under Lieutenant Urquhart, with orders to proceed in a direct line to the assistance of Captain Brown's party, whilst I continued along the road with the remainder of the force to a lane about a quarter of a mile beyond the stockade, which leads from the road down to the sea. About half-way down this lane I turned into the fields and formed line of skirmishers, with the intention also of proceeding to the assistance of the Volunteers, &c. The rebels, however, showed such a disposition to get round our left, and so cut us off from the main road, that I was obliged to abandon that intention, and manœuvre to prevent it: keeping up a fire whenever they gave us an opportunity, as they were covered by a wood and deep ravine, out of which we attempted to dislodge them with rockets. I ultimately took up a position in the lane, so as to secure the main road; and the Natives seeing us retire came down through the wood and ravine, but such an effective fire was kept up wherever they showed themselves that they retired to the bush again. Considering my force, however, too small to keep our communication open, should they attack us in force, I recalled Lieutenant Blake's party and Lieutenant Urquhart's, particularly as the day was far advanced and my orders were to return by dark. I continued to occupy this position until it became absolutely necessary to return, keeping up a frequent fire of rockets on the pah and any groups of rebels we observed. It became necessary, however, to detach Lieutenant Urquhart a second time to drive back the rebels, who were attempting to got up on our right, and between us and the Volunteers, which, having accomplished, he rejoined me in time to return. I beg to add that nothing I can say would adequately describe the steadiness and gallantry of both officers and men composing my little force. I have but one regret in reporting that I was early deprived of the very able assistance of Lieutenant Blake, H.M.S.S. “Niger,” who was severely wounded.”

Captain Cracroft, in his despatch, states, “In compliance with orders, I proceeded to the Omata stockade, where I was enabled to obtain a good view of the country and of a pah constructed on the crown of a hill about a mile beyond, from which a continuous fire of musketry was kept up upon Colonel Murray's force upon my right, with whom I immediately communicated. It was now about half-past five, and as there was only half an hour's daylight left, I determined to attack this pah at once. I accordingly planted the 24-pounder rocket tube about seven hundred yards from it, and after a few discharges, the men stormed the pah under a heavy fire in the most gallant style; William Odgers, my coxswain, being the first man in it. Having captured the flags and destroyed every thing living in the trenches as far as could be ascertained in the dark, I returned to the Blockhouse. In performing this service, I am thankful to say there were only four men wounded. It is difficult to estimate the numbers opposed to us, nor could their exact loss be ascertained—sixteen dead were counted lying inside the trenches, and several were lying in the road outside.”

The third account is from the pen of Captain Brown—an extract from his despatch to Major Herbert, the officer commanding Militia and Volunteers. It was upon this portion of the force that the brunt of the engagement fell—and with which was Charles St. Pierre—consisting of 52 Militia and 98 Volunteers.

“After a quick march of about two hours we reached the stream Waireka, where it runs on to the beach. We here perceived that the natives were rapidly running down from their pah, about a mile off, on the Waireka hill, to meet us. We were, however, able to get into position without difficulty on the high land in the following manner, under Captain Stapp's directions.

“A company of Volunteers under Captain Atkinson were thrown forward, and reached the high ground on the south side of the Waireka, driving back the natives; but greater numbers of the enemy coming on both flanks, Captain Stapp, who had joined and taken command, ordered a retreat on position No. 1, shown in the enclosed tracing made by the Provincial Surveyor—the position consisting of a house, stacks, furze and rail fences on level ground on the brink of two gullies running out on the beach. From this point Captain Atkinson was moved on to No. 2, to cover the rear of the main body. Lieutenant Hurst with his company occupied No. 3, and was joined by Lieutenant M'Keckney and myself, when I pushed Lieutenant Hurst forward to endeavour to occupy the bush in the Waireka gully, under cover of which the natives were swarming. Lieutenant Blake with a party of the “Niger's” men having thrown themselves in advance by another route, I directed Lieutenant Hurst to turn his attention to the natives on the lower and open part of the Waireka gully whence they were annoying Captain Atkinson's party as well as our own. Lieutenant Hurst having done some execution, passed across the gully by No. 2 to Captain Stapp at No. 1. The Natives soon made us aware that they possessed pieces of long range, against which our muskets were of no use, and I had to fall back on the scanty cover at No. 3, where I had not been long when Lieutenant Urquhart, 65th regiment, with some 25 men, joined me, as also some stragglers of the Naval Brigade, and some Volunteers from the Omata Stockade under Lieutenant Armstrong, Militia, and Lieutenant McNaughten, R. A. With their gallant assistance we drove the Natives out of sight into a straggling and slight line of cover in the gully that runs into the Waireka, and as I perceived the intention of the Natives was to intercept our line of retreat to the Omata Stockade by occupying the cover of flax between Nos. 3 and 4, I requested Lieutenant Urquhart to leave me a few men, and with the remainder occupy No. 4, thus placing the Natives creeping along the gully, between two fires and securing our communication with the Omata Stockade; to my surprise and regret Lieutenant Urquhart had not many minutes occupied No. 4 before I saw him and his men retire, recalled, as I am informed by Colonel Murray, by his orders; the position commanded my own, was uncommanded by any other, had open and level country between it and the Omata Stockade, and had excellent cover of flax at the edge of the position to seaward. When the Natives saw them retire, they called out “Ka horo, Ka horo,” and boldly ran along the open part of the gully to the cover on the North side of the Waireka, bringing themselves under the murderous fire of Captain Atkinson, which dropped them in twos and threes about the ground; at this time, finding my position untenable and valueless to the Natives, I ordered our wounded and dead to be carried to Captain Stapp's position. These consisted of one of the Marines of H.M.S.S. “Niger,” wounded in the head and since dead, one militiaman shot through the neck, and Sergeant Fahey of the Stockade at Omata shot dead.”

The scene of this engagement being only four miles from town, the firing was distinctly heard there, causing dreadful anxiety to all who had relatives engaged, and to none more so than the ladies Wellman and St. Pierre. This was not lessened when Walter, who had been wounded in the early part of the day, was brought home in the first ambulance—he was but slightly wounded; still the absence of Charles caused the deepest fear for his safety, and his anxious friends counted the moments waiting for the return of the force. It was midnight ere he came, fortunately unwounded, though dreadfully fatigued from the labors and dangers of the day. The fears of the wretched inhabitants was a hundredfold increased by the return of the regular troops a little after dark, and without any intelligence of the fate of the settlers, who being engaged on the other side of the hill, their movements or condition were not known.

The Natives engaged at Waireka were of the Southern tribes who were the first to aid Wiremu Kingi in his quarrel with the Governor, and though never joining his forces at Waitara they warred on their own account on the Southern side of the town, having commenced their infamous career on the day previous to the engagement in the village of Omata by the murder of three defenceless men and two little boys—the latter with the most savage brutality. Their next measure was an attack upon the town and a massacre of the inhabitants; this, however, was prevented by the battle above detailed, and although this force was not sent out to fight, but to rescue some outsettlers, whose return was cut off, brought on this disaster to them. Had, indeed, our advantage been followed up on this occasion, it is more than probable that the Maories would not have again molested the settlers; they were, however, unfortunately allowed to retreat leisurely to their own homes, and gaining courage from our inaction, devastated the country round, carrying off live stock and other property to a large amount. During the following six weeks, preparations were being made by both sides for carrying on the struggle, the inclement state of the weather impeding much the military operations.

A large entrenchment was, during this time, commenced and partly completed at the Waitara, about a mile from the mouth of the river, and early in June the detachment of the 40th, which had lately arrived from Melbourne and Hobart Town, now occupied this position.

The rebels, however, were not idle in front, but were actively engaged constructing a very strong Pah about a mile distant on a commanding eminence, covered with high fern, and surrounded by swamps and gullies. Although this Pah was not on the purchased land—as before stated, the cause of the first act of hostilities—yet as a reconnoitering party on the 23rd June was fired on by the Maories (which was immediately reported to Head-Quarters), in consequence of this it was determined to attack the Pah, and reinforcements of about 120 men, consisting of a Company the 40th regiment and a portion of the Naval Brigade, were sent to Waitara, together with two 24-pounder howitzers.

The Despatch of the Officer Commanding on this memorable occasion will be read with interest.

“Camp, Waitara, “27th June, 1860.

“Sir,—I have the honor to inform you, for the information of the Colonel Commanding the Forces (in reference to your letter of yesterday's date), that I moved out this morning at 5 o'clock with the detail noted in the margin,

Royal Artillery—1 officer, 1 sergeant, 19 gunners. Royal Engineers—1 officer, 6 rank and file. Naval Brigade—4 officers, 50 blue jackets. Royal Marine Artillery—1 officer, 10 rank and file. 40th Regt.—10 officers, 245 N.C. officers and men.

to attack the new pahs on the mounds on the South East of the Camp, and returned from thence to Camp at half-past 11 a.m.

“The attack was commenced by the Artillery at 7 a.m., at a range of 400 yards to the North West of the pahs. A breach was, however, not made in the large pah of a sufficient size to justify me in ordering the men to assault it.

“During the time the Artillery was playing on the pah large bodies of Maories were seen advancing from the rear and occupying in extended order a ditch and bank, about 400 yards in advance of our right flank, from which they kept up a constant fire.

“Seeing there was no means of entering the pah, I immediately ordered an advance towards the ditch and bank just mentioned, which was made in the most continued and gallant manner, until the men reached a deep ravine with an entrenchment behind, and which they found impossible to pass, it being defended by two, if not even three large bodies of Maories, who were almost entirely concealed behind it; and another entrenchment in rear as well as the very high fern. Here a desperate and destructive fire was opened upon us, and most gallantly returned. Our skirmishers being far fewer in number and exposed in a much greater degree than the enemy, I deemed it advisable to direct them to join the main body; and our ammunition being nearly expended, I withdrew the whole of the men, and returned to Camp in regular order.

“I regret to have to report that the casualties have been numerous; but when, (as it is supposed the whole of William King's Natives came down to support the Waikato in the pahs, the whole amounting apparently to 800 men, foremost among whom was a European who was shot dead,) it cannot be considered that the number is great, in proportion to those opposed to us.

“Among the deaths I have to lament that of Lieutenant Brooke, 40th Regiment, a young Officer of much promise, who fell in the noble discharge of his duty, and 29 Non-Commissioned Officers and Men of the different corps. Among the wounded, Captain Seymour, R.N., severely, and 33 Non-Commissioned Officers and Men of the different corps.

“I enclose a return of casualties.

“The loss of the rebels, from personal observations, must have been very great.

“I cannot speak too highly of the gallant bearing of the Officers and Men of all arms engaged, and I would particularly beg to mention the valuable services rendered by the several Officers in command, viz.: Lieutenant McNaghten, R.A., Lieutenant Battiscombe, R.N., Lieutenant Morris, R.M., and Captains Bowdler and Richards, 40th Regiment.

“I would also desire to express my sense of the very valuable services of Captain Seymour, R.N., who was so good as to accompany me and afford me every assistance until he was severely wounded.

“I feel much indebted to Assistant-Surgeon B. Stiles, 40th Regiment, Assistant-Surgeon Edwardes, R.N., and Mr. J. R. Murray, M.D., Surgeon, attached to the 40th Regiment, for the very efficient assistance they afforded to the wounded in the field.

“And my best thanks are due to Lieutenant Mould, R.E., who attended me, and my Staff Officer, Ensign Whelan, acting Adjutant, Detachment 40th Regiment.”

The intelligence of this affair filled the inhabitants of New Plymouth with consternation, and quickly rumour, with her thousand tongues, spread the news to the neighbouring colonies. Most deeply was it felt in Melbourne, where the 40th Regiment was justly esteemed, and the Parliament of Victoria immediately agreed to request the Governor and General to despatch the rest of the Regiment to New Zealand, the Volunteers being called out to supply their place. The war sloop “Victoria,” previously sent to New Zealand, was now entirely placed at the disposal of the New Zealand Government. A second Detachment also of the 12th Regiment was sent from Sydney, making up an additional force of 600 men. The General Officer at Melbourne, with his Staff, determined to accompany them to the seat of war, and direct the future proceedings. Great, therefore, were the expectations, and all parties were elated at the prospect of more decided and active operations, for the apparent indecision in not using the prompt measures directed by the Governor in his Despatch dated the 12th July, and which we beg to insert, caused much dissatisfaction.

“Believing that some decided and indisputable success at Taranaki is absolutely necessary to prevent other Tribes from joining those now in arms against us, I have been most anxious to place every available man at your disposal, and have incurred some risk in so doing. You will now have upwards of two thousand men of all ranks and a large force of Artillery under your command, and you will, I trust, be able to stike a vigorous and effective blow on the rebel forces, either on the North or South of New Plymouth.

“In urging this upon you, I beg you not to suppose that I desire you to exceed the bounds of prudence. * * * I do not, of course, presume to offer any advice on Military operations, but I trust you will permit me to say that, though some unequivocal success is absolutely required, * * * and that delay will add to the strength and confidence of our opponents, and weaken both the number and faith of our adherents; no precaution which can be adopted to ensure victory and avoid surpise ought to be neglected.”

The voice of public opinion, expressed in the journals of the day both at home and throughout the Colony, censured highly the officer in command, and a speedy termination of the war was looked for in the change of leaders. The General arrived on the 3rd of August, and the expectation of an immediate advance on the rebels filled every one with hope. The intentions and acts of the veteran soon dissipated this hope, and in proof of this remark we insert an extract from his Despatch to the Governor:—

“The plan which your Excellency proposes of harassing them by secret, sudden, and constant attacks by bodies of Troops without baggage is, in my opinion, impracticable. It is impossible to surprise them, as the scouts who are constantly on the watch about their pahs will always give them sufficient notice to enable them to effect their escape should they be desirous of doing so, or to prepare for defence if they mean to remain. Experience has proved that to send Troops unprovided with artillery to attack a pah entails certain failure, accompanied with a useless loss both of men and of prestige. I consider it of the highest importance, not only to the successful termination of the present war, but to the future peace of the Colony, that the Maories should become convinced of the superiority of the Troops in warfare, and of the hopelessness of their endeavouring to gain any material advantage over us; and I cannot think that it would be wise or justifiable knowingly to place the Troops in a position in which that superiority would disappear or perhaps be converted into inferiority.”

The day after the General's arrival a rumour ran through the town that a large body of the Maories were about to attack it. This proceeded from an officer of Militia attached to the Staff, who hastily rode in and informed the General that he had met the hostile natives advancing. The alarm soon sounded; the soldiers rushed to their arms and places of parade; whilst the panic-struck inhabitants rushed frantically from their houses. The streets were now filled with parties of women and children, in all sorts of costume, eagerly hastening to Marsland Hill as a place of refuge, causing a scene for several hours which beggars all description. After this alarm and attendant confusion it was deemed advisable to withdraw the outposts and to concentrate the forces inside the town, leaving a small entrenched camp on Waireka Hill, besides the force at Waitara and the two blockhouses at Omata and Bell Block. A more circumscribed line of entrenchment was without delay carried round the town, and all the gardens and hedges in the suburbs were levelled to prevent a cover to the enemy. Again and again were orders issued, and vessels chartered, for the removal of the women and children; but as these orders were in many instances not complied with, other measures were resorted to, which, evincing a lack of courtesy, and being of a dictatorial character, caused much bitterness against the authorities, which, with a more conciliatory tone, would have proved more effectual.

Mr. Wellman, a leading man in the Settlement, as well as Mr. St. Pierre, who had even a larger property and interest at stake, were not consulted on any matter, and they felt deeply this lack of courtesy towards them: their interest and that of their fellow-colonists being entirely ignored by the withdrawing of the outposts, and which up to this period protected the property around them. As a natural consequence, by their removal, the marauders became inspired with greater confidence; and, renewing their aggressive warfare, burnt, pillaged and destroyed everything, approaching even to within one mile of the town entrenchments. The policy of this line of proceeding was considered very doubtful by many, but we are not competent judges to form any opinion of its value. It was certainly at variance with the recorded opinion of the Governor, who frequently advised more prompt and active measures and the following up of our successes, which in all probability would have brought this disastrous war to a more speedy conclusion. However, caution was the order of the day, with what results will be hereafter seen.

Chapter X. “With fire and sword the country round Was wasted far and wide.”

—Southey.

It was about twelve months after that fěte recounted in the preceding pages, given at the Retreat by Mr. St. Pierre, that a few of the same guests assembled at his table; but, alas! in what altered circumstances. The comfortable house and home of the Retreat was changed into the roughly-built unsightly rooms of a common store, a small narrow apartment, composed of unplaned boards badly and imperfectly closed, through which the wind came in gusts and the dust freely circulated. To give even this place some air of comfort, canvas was nailed along the walls, and a few articles of the recovered furniture of the old house made it, in the attempt to make it habitable, a melancholy reminder of the luxury of the place where they were rescued from. A narrow dark passage led from the street door to this room, which even, small as was its dimensions, was partitioned off by a canvas curtain to separate it from a sleeping apartment. Still, the table and its furnishing as of old was there, though it made the contrast and the change the greater and the more heartfelt to those who were now assembled, and who had sat around it under sunnier times. The host, indeed, with his wonted courtesy and cheerful manner, endeavoured to dispel this gloom,—aided by the rich wine still at his command,—though still a shade of gloom would flit across his face as he thought of the happy fětes he so often presided at but a few short months before. The progress of the war was the topic of conversation, and, as the ladies retired, the host called for a bumper, giving as the toast “a speedy termination of the war and a return to their homes.” The toast was drunk in silence; but Mr. Wellman, addressing St. Pierre, said,

“Alas! I fear our hopes and wishes are vain, for still month after month goes by, and little is done save what gives fresh courage to the foe and less hope to us, of peace.”

“Come, come, my old friend,” exclaimed St. Pierre, “do not despair; affairs, 'tis true, look gloomy, but a brighter day will dawn upon us, when all those plans we hear of are matured.”

“Plans, indeed!” replied Mr. Wellman. “What line of operation can justify this caution and inaction? or can the most brilliant battle, after the whole country is devastated, restore to us our firesides, our cattle, or our farms, once so blooming and fertile, now overrun with furze and thistles? I speak bitterly, but I speak truly. Why have not our successes been followed up? Why do we withdraw, invariably, our forces the moment we have a chance of giving the Maori a lesson of our power? Why return from Kahihi when a further advance even on the pahs then in our sight would have completely checked their advance? It is not true that our sudden return now encourages them to follow on our heels, burning with revenge, and dreading us no more.”

“But why was the return so remarkable?” asked a stranger.

“Because,” replied Mr. St. Pierre, “intelligence arrived that the Northern natives were about to advance on the town, and which now appears to have been a ruse to bring the forces back thus hastily to protect it. I am not, however, disposed to view these mischances so warmly as my friend, though still I am of opinion that the success should have been followed up, and that a more severe chastisment would have prevented the Southerns molesting us again.”

Such were the constant remarks amongst the settlers; and the lack of courtesy shown towards them by no means tended to check them. Some allowances, indeed, should be granted to men who had lost their all, and, in place of being sympathized with, were treated with contempt and coldness; and even, it was publicly stated, that they had with design fomented the war: that, being bankrupts before its commence- mentcommencement, they hailed its outbreak; as if, indeed, even were such a statement true,—which was not,—one ruin could avert the other,—a specious kind of argument most contradictory and improbable.

Chapter XI. “Alas! we were warn'd, but we reck'd not the warning, Till our warriors grew weak in the day of despair; And our glory has fled, as the light cloud of morning, That gleams for a moment, and melts into air.”

—Anon.

We must now for a little follow the steps of our hero, and shift the scene to another country, craving the patience of the indulgent reader for our digression. Far different is the landscape that bursts on our view as we pause on the top of a lofty hill, that with difficulty and toil we rode to, after leaving miles of interminable forest and jungle behind. Everything denotes a tropical climate. A wide extensive plain is before us, stretching away to the sea, from whose bed the glorious sun is now rising. A fresh breeze is blowing from the heaving ocean, and invigorating to us and our weary steeds. Stretching from the heights on which we stand, the view is extensive and diversified; immediately under the brow of the chain of hills several farm-houses and cottages are scattered, presenting an uncommon and curious appearance. The style of architecture might truly be said to be of the fantastic order, for the roofs of the houses seem covered with figures, whilst each house is surrounded with verandahs most elaborately made of reeds, and highly ornamented in grotesque style. The gardens are neat and trim to exactness, and the hedgerows, cut in every form, give all the farms a quaint and yet pleasing idea of care and industry.

The few labourers seen in the fields and about the houses wear curiously-shaped caps, with turbans, or deep-brimmed straw hats. From the hill we have an extensive view over a wide plain, with a river flowing through it. The country seems low, and easily covered with water, as there are no banks to the river, and the fields alongside are like a swamp, although evidently cultivated, for the fields are all marked out, and several labourers are at work in them. The plain gently rises to the hill we stand on, and in the distance is the sea, the river gradually widening into a large sheet of water as it gains it.

Not far from the shore is an extended line of large ships, whilst an immense number of boats, steamers, and smaller craft are passing to and for and up the river, where there are several landing places built on either side. On the crest of the hills which run along both sides, at several miles distance, are the snow-white tents of a large force, on both sides of the river, and at considerable distance from each other. In one or two of these encampments are seen numerous horses picqueted and trains of guns; it is evidently a large army of horse, foot and artillery, and the ships line-of-battle men of war. Where, then, are we? By the turbans and glittering dress of those men where the horses are picqueted we recognize Fane's Horse; and on the side of the hill we see the red jackets and white caps of the 99th Regiment, our old friends in New Zealand.

Near to the right of those pretty cottages and farm yards (evidently belonging to the race of Celestials) are the plumes and horses of the King's Dragoon Guards, and further on are others we cannot distinguish. It must be the British force before Pekin! “Talien plains and Talien Bay!”

But let us proceed here: as we ascend the hill is a fine encampment; it is a Regiment of the line under the brow of the hill, before unseen to us: it is in truth Captain St. Pierre's Regiment. Let us enter this large marquee, and enquire for him. We must stop to describe the scene before us.

A large marquee indeed it is, more than double the size of any we ever saw. It forms a splendid apartment; a beautiful table is in the centre, littered with books, maps and engravings. Several officers are sitting round reading and writing; their seats are cane-made lounges; but around in this large apartment, for large it is, are several others, in all sorts of forms and attitudes, lounging on various kinds of easy chairs; whilst, on gorgeous Turkish mats, propped with pillows, two or three are hid away under the drapery of the pink silk curtains that hang so loosely and gracefully around. Several servants in turbans and costly flowing robes hand round sherbert and iced-wine in large silver goblets. We pass on to where our friend resides, directed by one of those grand cup-bearers. Softly! this is his tent; let us pause and see how our old friend is occupied.

By the side of a small table covered with letters and writings sat our hero, in an undress uniform. But how is he engaged? Can it be that the man who gallantly led his Company at Lucknow and Ghuznee, and but a few hours since we saw leading his gallant corps (for he is now the Major Commanding)—is weeping! But such is the case; with his hand spread over his face, leaning on the table, the tears fall thick and fast on an open letter before him. Alas! what grief is it that so oppresses the manly heart of our friend? Let us look over his shoulder and read that letter, now after many months in our possession. It is dated from New Plymouth, September, 1860, not a year from the time we met him there, so happy amongst his friends, and is from his cousin, Mary St. Pierre. Thus it ran:—

“In my former letter, dear Herbert, I told you of the dreadful fear we had of an outbreak amongst the Natives. Alas! our fears are more than realized. War, with all its horrors, has swept over our favoured land; we are driven from our dear, happy, lovely home; the Retreat is a heap of ashes; our flocks and herds are driven away; all our beautiful gardens destroyed and devastated; and the whole of our farms and grounds laid waste; ourselves hurriedly hastened into town, are now living in a miserable store. We have but one servant, and my Aunt and I are obliged to assist in every household work. You know I was always strong, and liked to work, but still I feel the change tremendously. The loss of all those elegancies and comforts, that you used to remark and admire, is much felt by me; and if it is thus so by me, what do you suppose must be the trial to our mutual friend Fanny Wellman? for the same fate has befallen Glenfairy; and where you and I used to wander to meet her and stroll over those dear, loved and beautiful grounds, their nice house and gardens are like a barren waste. My brother Charles and Walter Wellman have got Commissions in the Militia, and their duty is so severe,—daily on escorts and every other night on guard,—that you would scarcely know them. They have both been in several of the engagements with the Maories, and Walter Wellman was wounded at the battle of the Waireka Hill, but is now well again. Mr. Wellman bears up but badly against these reverses, and great fears are entertained for his life. The shock has been too great for his delicate constitution, and all that he had heretofore gone through now tells doubly on him; thus poor dear Fanny has even a much harder task to perform than I have, and far greater trials; but still she is ever preaching forbearance and hope to me, even whilst she weeps on my shoulder. But, then, when we are alone, and she can speak of you, the old sweet smile returns, and she says to me, ‘Oh! write to him, and tell him I am even still the same true one to him.’ You know how devoted she ever was to her most kind father; well, he has discovered your secret, and one or two ‘would-be’ friends have spoken unkindly of you: that you will never return; that, soldier-like, you are heartless and forgetful; and that, now that cares and misfortunes have come, you will never come back. Oh, dear Herbert, this cannot be true of you; and so Fanny ever says, in spite of every counsel or advice, she will not change. Thus, in addition to all the loss and sorrow, and all the toil, anxiety, and constant worry, ever careful and devoted to her dying father, hearing daily reproachful words against you, she bears up heroically, and ever hides her own griefs to console and comfort others. Come, then, my dear cousin, and prove to all that you are our own true-hearted and constant cousin and friend,” &c, &c.

Can we now wonder that the stout heart failed, or that the mortificatin of his honor doubed, and the grief thereby entailed on one he so dearly loved, in addition to all her sorrow, toil, and care, should have caused this grief, for the moment, as he read the foregoing. Quickly, however, tears were dried, and his determination fixed; for by a letter dated that self-same day we read of it, as thus he writes to his mother:—

“Blame me not, dearest mother, if, now that peace is decided, I leave the service. Neither blame me if I do not return to you at once; another and a stronger tie of equal love and duty calls me to the South, and I must hasten to the loved ones who loved and honored the stranger in their day of prosperity, now sorely afflicted by the rude hand of war and bitter loss and sorrow.

“The papers I forward to you will tell you of the war in Taranaki, which, no doubt, my poor uncle has long since given to you in detail. I must hasten to them and to her to whom I gave my heart's best affections, as I have already told you. I must rescue her, at least, from this sad fate, and bring a loving, lovely daughter to your feet; perchance I can also assist my uncle and cousins, and persuade them to return with me to our old home once more.”

Chapter XII. “How often have I paused on every charm, The shelter'd cot, the cultivated farm; * * * * * * * Obscure it sinks; nor shall it more impart An hour's importance to the poor man's heart.”

—Goldsmith.

A Few days after the letter to his mother, mentioned in the preceding chapter, was despatched, peace being proclaimed with China, Herbert St. Pierre sent in his papers to retire, and having received a year's leave from head quarters, set out in a steamer for Ceylon, where he picked up once more the Australian packet, and proceeded to Sydney and via Nelson to New Plymouth. Here he arrived about the end of November, a short time after the brilliant action at Mahoetahi.

“Tuesday, November 6th.—Before four o'clock this morning the troops prepared for the march to Mahoetahi; the carts were filled with baggage, ammunition, &c., and two howitzers (twenty-four pounders), were in readiness to start at five a.m. The Militia and Rifle Volunteers mustered opposite the Militia Office, and the whole force commenced the march at five o'clock precisely. On reaching the declivity before coming to the Mangoraka river, a halt was ordered, and the guns limbered up and taken to the front, and skirmishers thrown forward, while Mahoetahi, distant about a mile and a half, and the country adjacent, was observed by the General with a telescope. The order to march was again given, and the force proceeded, the 65th in advance forming a skirmishing party and support, with the General and staff, followed by the Rifle Volunteers, the guns, the artillerymen, the engineers, and the train of carts; the 40th and 12th being rearguard. The Mangoraka stream was forded, the men wading through the stream, and in silence and good order all advanced towards Mahoetahi, a hill on the left of the Devon Line, about eight miles from town and three from Waitara. In a few minutes firing was heard in the front, and the order was given for the guns under Captain Strover, R.A., to be brought to the front. At this moment, one man of the 65th, private Connolly, came to the rear, wounded in the arm by the third or fourth shot from the rebels. The General here dismounted from his horse, and ordered the guns to take up a position at fifty yards distance from the pah, while a heavy and continuous fire was kept up from a gully to the right of the enemy's position, and proceeded on foot to the front, where he remained during the whole action guiding and directing the movements of the men. An order was now sent to Major Herbert, commanding the Rifle Volunteers, to take position, to the left, in skirmishing order, which was at once done, the men skirmishing in high fern and across a deep swamp, gradually approaching the enemy's position. Firing was now opened upon the hill by the howitzers with shell, and the crack of the rifle was becoming more and more rapid. The 65th in front were under Captain Turner and Lieutenant Toker, the light company under Lieutenant Urquhart being sent to the extreme right to protect the flank of the attacking force, and Lieutenant Chevalier, with thirty men, to protect the guns. The Volunteers were extended to the left front of Mahoetahi, and their left flank under Captain Atkinson on the extreme left, and were fast lessening their distance, and by a rush took possession of a hill about a hundred yards from the pah. The order at this moment was received by Major Herbert to charge the pah, when he ordered the men to fix bayonets, and with a hearty cheer the pah was gallantly stormed simultaneously with the 65th in the front, the men running up the hill under a rapid fire from the rebels, who, when the pah was reached, retired behind the banks and whares in the rear. Now commenced a fierce fight, hand to hand in some instances, when two of the 65th—privates McGivern and Rooney, and two Volunteers, H. Edgcombe and F. Brown—fell mortally wounded, shot by the enemy at a distance of a few yards. Capt. Atkinson, with a small party, occupied a low hill on the left, and kept up a destructive fire on the rebels on their flank, thirty or forty of them being a few feet distant from the rest of our party on the hill. It was some time before the natives could be dislodged from the rearzof the pah, where they were keeping up a smart fire, wounding several of the 65th and Volunteers, including Captain Turner, severely in mouth, and Colonel Sillery slightly. Lieut. Toker and a few men of the 65th, with Mr. W. S. Atkinson (Native department) were hotly engaged at the right of the pah, while the Volunteers were as actively employed on the left, when most opportunely Major Nelson's column from Waitara, with one hundred men of the 65th from Puketakauere, under Colonel Mould, R.E., and Lieutenant Talbot, 65th, came up in the left rear, and with a twenty-four pounder howitzer dropped a shell amongst the rebels under the bank in our rear, which caused them to make a precipitate retreat down the hill into a swamp and across the country. Some of them ran up the Huirangi road, where they were taken in flank by the Waitara force and in rear by Lieutenant Urquhart's party with fatal effect; two shells were also thrown with good precision amongst them by Lieutenant McNaughten from Waitara. It was now a complete rout, and the natives still fell in making their retreat, throwing away their pieces and cartridge, pouches in the fern. Several hid in the swamp, where they were shot. It was a short and decisive victory; no natives were to be seen beyond a few stragglers in the distance. The General, now, with a reconnoitring party of the 12th, 40th, and a part of the 65th, proceeded up the Huirangi road, and came round back by Ngataiparirua and Puketakauere.”

How different was St. Pierre's landing now! How altered were his feelings! How changed was the appearance of the place! When first he saw New Plymouth, a scattered village, with gay gardens neatly trimmed and shady bowers covered with roses; and clematis here and there were interspersed over the verandahs of the cottages; 'midst the larger houses of trade a few busy labouring men or a rustic lass a-shopping in gayer attire might be seen, with groups of merry children running by; the careful teamster, with his team of sleek, well-fed bullocks, urging them along with his well-filled waggon of hay or corn, singing as he passed down the street; whilst round the town the more cozy villas, with larger gardens, encircled with the bright-blossomed hedges or fruitful branches of peach and apple, cherry and plum, drooping with their weight of luscious store, or the clustering vine o'er the trellised walks by the babbling stream. Beyond, again, were seen the well-kept fields, rich in pasture, filled with herds and flocks, then in golden colour, bright with ripening corn.

Alas! all now was changed. A line of palisades enclosed the town in narrow limits, outside of which was a deep entrenchment. Mount Elliot, formerly a pretty green mound overlooking the landing-place, was a complete redoubt, with counterscarp, horn-work and ravelin; whilst the enclosure was filled with tents, gun carriages, guns, and other munitions of war. The custom's stores and boat-sheds were also palisaded round, the former loop-holed and converted into a block-house, and filled with soldiers. As you entered the town from the sea, to right and left were blockhouses within the palisades; and several hastily-built houses were everywhere erected within the town entrenchments for the soldiery, surplus inhabitants, picquet-houses and store-rooms, without any regard to appearance or position. On the market places and on the town reserves were encampments with tents; whilst the little gardens and neat trellises alluded to had disappeared, and sheds or tents took up the place of the former, the latter, from neglect, had vanished. Instead of the farm labourer and town-artisan was the hasty step of the soldier; in place of the merry group of children was the mournful knot of care-worn men, all with arms, showing they were of the Militia; in place of the teamster's song and farming carts, was heard the shrill note of the bugle-call and the tumbril and gun-carriage. Here were a group of officers parading near a body of armed men. Here walked by, with hasty stride, an orderly, or a mounted escort dashed over the hill. All spoke of war and preparation for war.

And thus it was as Major St. Pierre slowly sought the now humble abode of his once so gay and wealthy friends. Sad was his heart as he looked around and sought for their present home. Sadder still, as in silence he pressed in love their hands, though cheered by the warm welcome and the sweet smile of joy that still remained for the return of the wanderer.

But how shall we describe the sad scene that awaited him at Mr. Wellman's, now too ill to leave his room. Nor can we well describe his feelings as he determined to see, without delay, his well-loved, trusting Fanny. Humble, indeed, and crowded, was the home he now found her in; and as, with his still gay and cheerful-hearted cousin, he, on that same evening, sought the house, who could tell all he felt? Anxiety, however, to meet her once more broke through those feelings of restraint, and his heart rose as he entered their now quiet drawing-room.

Here Mrs. Wellman met him, coldly indeed, but politely. But e'er Mary, who had rushed off to see Fanny, had with her returned, much of this coldness had vanished, and the sincere feelings of the goodhearted soldier had still their sway. Fanny, under the influence of repeated lectures and cautions, and from all she heard, and the continual reproach from one old lady connected with the family, and with whom two orphan cousins resided, known as Mrs. Grantham, —and who had the greatest aversion to all soldiers in general, and from some unaccountable cause, to Herbert in particular,—though in her own mind trusting him, at first smothered her feelings, and, fearing the watchful eyes of her mother, greeted him coldly. Still, there was a tremor in that dear hand, and the drooping of the eye-lash as she turned her face away told a different tale to the expectant lover; that though he soon left, apparently, chagrined, yet in his heart he knew he was still fondly loved. His own feelings, as they are expressed in the next letter to his mother, will explain all better than we can. It is dated the 12th December, 1860.

“My last letter told you of my intention to obtain leave to retire from the army and settle at Taranaki, or bring home our friends from there. The accounts I had from my uncle and cousin were sad indeed, and yet they fell short of the reality. Neither, in truth, can I describe the change of that once lovely province to the now desolated region; no description can convey a correct idea of the ruin caused to all the fair homesteads I so loved to admire and wander over during my former visit. You must fancy, therefore, how I felt when I again entered the bay of Taranaki, and saw the smiling village and blooming country converted into an embattled town and wild waste around. The town is, in fact, regularly beseiged, and no one allowed to go outside the blockhouses, of which there are six, forming a cordon round, the furthest from the town entrenchment not half a mile; these forts are strongly built of planks, loop-holed, surrounded with foss and embankment, and contain each about thirty men. As, however, I considered myself a stranger, and not owing allegiance to any one, I made repeated excursions to see minutely the amount of destruction to property, and to gratify my curiosity besides; in such venturesome trips there was an excitement to drown my feelings of sorrow at all I saw. Words fail me in very truth to tell to you, my dear mother, the sad change on every hand, from a smiling country rich in pastures, full of herds, and neatly-clipped hedges of furze (the prevailing fences of the fields), once so luxuriant with yellow corn or other crop; now no herd or animal was to be seen save close to the town, and there only a straggling few. Hedges, either overgrown and extending over half the fields, or broken open and burnt down, whilst thistles and weeds usurped the place of the former crop of the bountiful harvest; and where the comfortable cottage and fruitful garden adorned the glen or hill side, now a heap of ashes, a blackened chimney marked the spot, and the garden had become a dense wild of bramble.

“Such were scenes that in my rambles each day I visited. At length even these were stopped. Once or twice a stray shot was fired at me; and then the open murders by the treacherous foe alarmed me, and made me unwillingly curtail my rides.

“My acquaintance with the Wellmans was restrained and cold, and the increasing illness of Mr. Wellman prevented me seeking an explanation. Sometimes, it is true, I meet Fanny, but she, though still the same to me, appears cold and distant when any are near.

“As I am not yet out of the service, I feel it derogatory to my rank to join the Volunteer force as a subaltern officer; but, as you know, whilst a student at Cambridge, I took a surgeon's diploma there, I have volunteered to the Medical Staff. I am permitted by the principal officer to assist, but no post is assigned me, nor am I in orders. Still, as I may be of use, I have joined the regiment at the front, and the one which, generally speaking, sees most service, and with them I am sure of a hearty welcome, as I know several of them. Thither I move to-morrow, deeply grieved at my reception by the Wellmans, but still devoted to Fanny, and hoping that time will unravel all this mystery.”

Chapter XIII. “Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow; And Scipio's ghost walks unrevenged amongst us.”

—Addison.

It seemed to be the policy of the present rulers that when any decisive movement or action took place, to pause for days after, e're another move was taken; and according to the opinion of many, this unnecessary delay and the not following up an advantage, protracted the war, and gave the enemy not only time to recover their loss, but to make extra preparation for any subsequent advance.

Thus at Kahihi, if the force had then proceeded into the enemy's country three days' march, and destroyed even the pahs in sight, it would have so crippled the Southern natives that they would not have dared to invade or ravage the Taranaki district the second time, as will be seen they did.

Again, all agree that if the reserve of upwards of five hundred men, fresh and not engaged, had, after the signal victory at Mahoetahi, advanced on Huirangi, they not only would have come up with and easily defeated the five hundred men said to have been the support, and now disheartened in full retreat, but they would have driven them entirely from the district, and have made them gladly sue for peace.

A dissertation on the pros and cons—of the wisdom or folly—of these proceedings, is not our object, and we only write of what we have heard in every one's mouth, and state the facts to allow them to answer the question. With the exception of one or two large bodies of troops sent out as reconnoitring parties, as detailed thus,

“It was signalled into town this morning that a number of natives were in the vicinity of the Bell Block; they had been dancing near the Ninia pah, and were driving off and shooting cattle. On the receipt of this intelligence a force of three hundred men, in command of Major Hutchins, 12th regiment, consisting of eighty-five of the 12th under Captain Williams, Lieutenant Dudgeon and Ensign Hurst; two hundred and twelve of the 65th under Captains Bulkeley and Strange, Lieutenants Bailie, Toker, Wrixon, and Butler, together with six artillerymen and a twelvepounder howitzer, under Captain Strover, R.A., marched from town. On reaching the Bell Block, the enemy had decamped, after having retreated before a party of thirty men under Captain Buck, 65th regiment, who went out to encounter them. Several fine cattle were found shot on the block, and about thirty head driven off. The troops returned to town at three p.m.”

no regular movement was made until the 28th of December, nearly two months after the battle of Mahoetahi; and we find that then a force of about fifteen hundred men, with two eight-inch guns, four howitzers, and several mortars, proceeded to Waitara.

It would scarcely be pleasing to our readers, and also be wandering too far from the events of our story, to give an account of the many engagements, most of them of little moment. We will, therefore, copy in some of particular interest, and proceed to our friends. Thus, on the 11th of September:—

“At four o'clock this morning No. 3 division proceeded by a branch road leading up to Ngataiparirua, No. 2 division continuing along the Devon road, until reaching the road from King's pahs to Waitara, where it turned to the right, when the Light Company of the 65th, under Lieutenants Urquhart and Whitbread, were thrown out in skirmishing order up to Ngataiparirua, when the guns were brought to the front, and three shells thrown into the pah, after which it was entered and found untenanted, and forthwith destroyed.

“No. 3 division now came up, and proceeded to Kairau, the next pah, described as very strongly fortified, which was also found evacuated: this was also burnt, and the divisions continued their march to Huirangi, when they were joined by Major Nelson's division from Waitara, who had marched up by a circuitous route on the banks of the Waitara.

“On reaching Huirangi, smoke was seen rising from the pah, but on reaching it, it was found, like the others, evacuated; but half-cooked food and lighted fires were evidences that the enemy had only just left it. Major Nelson's division now sent out the Light Company of the 40th as skirmishers, with some friendly natives, who, while proceeding along a road near a grove of peach trees, were fired upon by an ambuscade of the rebels, in a ravine, on the edge of the forest, and killing a private named Robert Ramsay. The natives delivered their volley at a distance of a few yards, but fortunately with their usual bad aim, otherwise many of the 40th must have fallen. On receiving the volley the advanced party fired and retired, and in the momentary confusion left their killed comrade, and on advancing again they found he had been taken away by the rebels, no doubt to secure his rifle and ammunition.

“Ihaia, who was with the party, acted with great coolness and bravery, deliberately firing his piece at the enemy before he retired with the rest. An officer had a narrow escape, as he got tripped up by a supplejack and fell into a hole, and escaped from the enemy by a miracle, after losing his sword.

“The rebels now kept up a heavy fire from the bush and rifle pits on its skirt, wounding T. Jenkins, Naval Brigade, and Bombadier Sinclair, R.A., which was answered by our forces with grape, canister, round shot, rockets, and a smart musketry fire; the bullets from the rebels falling amongst the troops, and near to the General, who was standing with his staff within range. After firing into the bush for a considerable time, and having destroyed Huirangi and a small pah to the right, named Manutahi, which was effected by a party of forty men of the Light Company of the 65th, under Lieutenant Urquhart, who were detached from the 2nd division, the order to retire was given, and the whole force returned to camp at Waitara, which was reached at three p.m.”

Again, on the 28th of December:—

“We arrived at Mahoetahi about seven a.m., and halted for an hour for breakfast, after which we moved on by the road to the left of the blockhouse and crossed the Waiongana at the prophet's pah, above the junction of the Mangoraka with the Waiongana. Fortunately the river was not too deep, and we arrived at Waitara at ten o'clock, a.m., and encamped near the pah.

“We got orders to move at four a.m. next morning and got on the road at that hour, passed the sight of the old pah, and arrived at Ngataiparirua at half-past five a.m.; moved on the advanced ground to Kairau, and commenced firing and throwing shells into the gully towards Matarikoriko. A working party commenced to make a redoubt, and after a short time (half-past eight a.m.) the natives crept up through the fern and gave us a volley. A sharp fire until half-past nine, and then all quiet until half-past twelve, p.m.

“A heavy fire was then commenced, and continued all day and night. One man of the 65th killed, and one sergeant and three men wounded; two 40th killed and fourteen wounded; one naval brigade wounded severely.

“The 65th fell in at seven a.m., and marched back to camp (Waitara) with the naval brigade. Left the 12th and 40th in camp at Kairau, who were engaged with the enemy till half-past five next morning.

“All quiet Sunday. The fire all Saturday was most terrific, and well sustained on our side, which kept the rebels well in check. They fired out of rifle-pits without showing themselves or taking aim, and the bullets went very high. Our people fired 70,000 rounds of ammunition, and about 120 shell and case shot.

“The Rev. Mr. Wilson went down to them yesterday morning, and there was a truce all day. Mr. Wilson's object was to get them to agree to spare the dead and wounded; and, after a good deal of parleying, an agreement has been made to that effect: one old savage (a chief) dissenting, but they will not mind him.

“In going over some of the pits, a splendid tomahawk, all bloody, and a pouch, a large knife and a pipe, were found, and various other articles. Two Maori letters were also found, one from ‘Takerei Terangi’ to ‘Wiremu Hoeta, Rewi, and others,’ In which he urges them to spare the women and children.

“This morning, intelligence was received that the enemy had evacuated their pah and position, and two companies of the 65th and a few of the blue jackets rushed into it and hoisted the Union Jack, one the Colonel of the 65th had for the purpose. It was well and quickly done.”

And, again, on the 14th of February:—

“At half-past three this morning, six hundred of the Naval Brigade, 12th, 14th, and 40th, commanded by General Pratt, left Waitara Camp for Kairau, where they were joined by Colonel Wyatt and the 65th, leaving a garrison for the Redoubt and Matarikoriko. On reaching Kairau at about half-past five, the whole force for service advanced in the direction of Huirangi, the enemy's position, the General commanding in person. The natives, who had their riflepits along the edge of the Huirangi bush, and across the road leading into the peach grove, and also in the bush to the left, were seen hurrying, in small parties, to take up their places in the several rifle pits, which extend about a mile and a quarter in length from the brow of the hill overlooking the Waitara river to the remains of the pah, Ko-te-wai-o-naha, on the right; aud, on the advance of the troops, commenced a heavy fusilade from these hidden pits, along almost the whole length of their position.

“The 65th, under Colonel Wyatt, advanced in skirmishing order, with the 40th on the right and left, with supports; the 14th being left in the Kairau Redoubt, the eight-inch gun in the redoubt being manned by a party of the Naval Brigade. A heavy fire was now kept up by the artillery, and the practice was so good that it effectually silenced the enemy's fire, and a position was taken up by Colonel Mould about six hundred yards in advance, and a working party told off to construct a redoubt. This, the object of the movement, was proceeded with rapidly, and the occasional shots from the enemy proved quite harmless; there was not a single casualty during the day. At half-past nine a red flag was hoisted by the enemy on a flag-staff on the edge of the bush, when some well-directed shots were fired at it and it was hauled down. The redoubt, which will be called No. 2, was completed before dusk, and a party of the 40th, under Captain Bowdler, were left there to garrison it, and the General, with the Waitara force, returned to head-quarters.”

A more sanguinary affair, however, came off on the morning of the 23rd, in which St. Pierre was actively engaged. The level plain of the Waitara is bounded by a chain of hills which converge to this plain in thick bush; along the border was a row of peach trees, where in former and more peaceful times was the favorite halting place for our friends and others in their excursions to the valley of the Waitara. About one mile distant, between this grove and the river, in direction towards the sea, was an elevated block called Matorikoriko, similar to Puketakauere, from which it is distant about a mile and a-half. It is a very commanding position, and on it was a strongly-fortified pah, taken by our forces on the 31st December, as described above; the pah being destroyed, a stockade was without delay built there, and a force left to garrison it.

Near this peach grove was another pah, strongly defended by a line of rifle pits; and half-a-mile to the rear, on the spur of this chain of hills, and commanding the river and the plain, was the principal pah of the rebel chieftain Te Arei. All approaches to this pah were, it was supposed, occupied and defended by a row of rifle pits. From spur to spur, and height to height, bush of heavy timber inter- venedintervened, over rough and unequal ground. From Kairou, therefore, where the first redoubt was built, the level plain extended about a thousand yards to the peach grove and Huirangi pah. These places had been before taken by the troops; but now that some two or three months were allowed them without advancing on them, they were again occupied by the rebels and strongly fortified, so that now it was deemed advisable to approach them more cautiously, with redoubts and a sap. Thus, at a distance of five hundred yards from No. 1 redoubt, came a smaller one, and again, some three or four hundred yards, at an angle, came a larger one, No. 3. There the 40th were ordered on the 22nd, and thus, on the 23rd, we read:—

“Before daylight this morning, about one hundred and forty natives contrived, under cover of the darkness, to creep into the ditch of No. 3 redoubt unobserved by the sentries, and had prepared to scale the embankment by scraping steps with tomahawks and their fingers. At the grey of morning the sentry perceived one man—the last of the party—creeping to the brow of the ditch; he fired on him and was immediately shot dead himself.

“The garrison, consisting of the greater part of the 40th, under command of Colonel Leslie, met the attack with great promptitude, and a scene ensued which bafiles description. Our troops, as fast as they could load their rifles, fired down over the parapet, and the artillerymen, with great coolness, cut short the fuses of the shell, and, lighting them, pitched them over into the trench with frightful execution. Lieutenant Jackson, 40th regiment, while in the act of firing at a native, over the parapet, with a revolver, was shot through the head, and fell mortally wounded. Some natives succeeded in getting so far up the parapet that they were bayonetted by the garrison. This sanguinary conflict was prolonged till daylight, when the support came up from the Kairou, a party of the 65th attacking the rebels on their right flank, while the 12th attacked them on the left of the redoubt; here they met the rebel reserve, who rose out of the fern, it is said, like a flock of birds. These were charged by the 12th at the point of the bayonet, and those of the natives who could turned and fled, leaving many behind them. It was all over before six a.m., and in the trench of the redoubt and around lay forty-nine bodies of the rebels, five only of whom were alive. Forty-one were buried in a grave between Nos. 2 and 3 redoubts, others were buried by the friendly natives. Thirteen chief men are stated to be amongst the slain, but many of the bodies were beyond identification. The wounded natives are all dangerously so. Our casualties are five killed and eleven wounded.”

At this juncture, and while we were still hearing of the above engagement, the “Star Queen” arrived with three hundred and fifty of the 57th regiment from Poona and Bombay, but still, in spite of this success and the easy victory within our grasp, by a hasty advance, after the defeat of the redoubt attack, the advancing troops were recalled, and no farther movement save a continuation of a double sap over the level plains towards the peach groves, thus giving the rebels time to recover from their loss and regain spirit, and add rifle pits on every commanding spot.

About this time the Rev. Mr. Wilson arrived from Auckland. He has been a devoted missionary amongst the Waikatos for twenty-eight years, thoroughly understands their character, and being a man of most pleasing manners and address, well calculated to influence them. His principal object in coming to the seat of war was from charity and good nature, in order to use his influence with the enemy to spare those wounded in action, and observe the Sabbath by a cessation of hostilities on that day. This he in a great measure succeeded in, but it was afterwards upset, for the first Sunday was observed a day of peace, but towards the close of the day the Maories evacuated Materikoriko; and the next morning, on the troops advancing, it was found deserted. This was considered a breach of faith, although it has since been ascertained that they were prepared to go on the Saturday evening before.

This occured, as before detailed, on Sunday, the 10th February. It was on this occasion that Captain Strange, of the 65th regiment, was mortally wounded, most deeply and deservedly regretted by all who knew him. As the flag of truce for Sunday was hoisted, the 40th and 65th regiments moved out and advanced beyond the peach and karaka groves, which they cut down, and took up a position near a mile further, close under the ascent to the pah.

“General Pratt had resolved on constructing a redoubt about a mile in advance of redoubt No. 6, in the peach grove, and about four hundred yards from Te Arei pah, near Pukerangiora. The pah is not now in a fortified state, but there is a village of a few huts on the site of an old pah, half way up the slope of a ridge. There are many rifle pits on several eminences around; the ground is covered with fern, in some places very high, and there is a deep gully between the position chosen for the redoubt and Te Arei pah. A force consisting of about twelve hundred men, of the 12th, 14th, 40th, and 65th regiments, and Artillery, with the Royal Engineers, advanced at daybreak yesterday, and was immediately met by heavy firing from the enemy ensconsed in their pits. Our men were obliged to lie down, and the working parties were covered chiefly by the fire of the artillery, as the natives could only be seen at rare intervals. The rifles, however, were constantly in readiness to fire into the enemy when seen. The natives were full of determination, and at times came within speaking distance, inviting our men to come on, who replied by recommending them to stand out. Several old women were vociferous in encouraging the enemy. The redoubt was constructed on a small hill crowned with fern trees, commanding the gully, and within easy shelling range of the village or pa Te Arei. The 40th, and Captain Strange's and Captain Turner's companies, 65th, were extended in front across the roads from the peach grove to Te Arei, the 40th on the left, the 65th on the right. The detachment of the 12th and the light company of the 65th kept the road in rear of the working parties, extending from the peach grove to near the new redoubt. Almost every little eminence, and the edges of the bush, were occupied by the enemy, one party as near as one hundred and fifty to two hundred yards to the men of the 65th on the right front. Captain Strange's men had formed themselves little rifle pits, and that gallant officer was lying in one of these when he received a wound in the thigh, the bullet cutting the femoral artery and causing death by hemorrhage. Eleven others were wounded: three of the Royal Artillery, one of the 12th regiment, one of the 40th, five of the 65th, and one bullock driver. Nine of the bullocks were hit, but not so as to injure them seriously. The wounds, except two which are dangerous, are not of a character to disable the men permanently. Captain Strange was universally esteemed, not only in his regiment, but by every one who came in contact with him in the whole foree.”

Here was formed redoubt No. 7, where the 40th remained for some weeks. A second sap was commenced from No. 7 of no ordinary labour and superior construction, and skirmishing parties were out all day around. Besides the support of the men working at the sap the guns also were brought into position.

After some days, the sap slowly advancing, another redoubt was formed, and then the sap rising the ascent, had to be formed to right and left parallels. During all this time, from the 27th January to the end of March, the sap progressed under a continual harassing fire from the rifle-pitted hills around, and St. Pierre was constantly employed attending the wounded, who were daily added to the list in his charge. On Sunday, 17th March, Lieutenant McNaughten was killed as he was in the act of firing his gun,—a strange coincidence, that on that day twelve months he fired the first gun of the opening war at the pah, near Waitara.

Thus it is seen that for near three months our hero remained at the front, continually and actively employed, and without any emolument. Once only during that time did he leave for three days to visit New Plymouth; this was on the melancholy event of the death of Mr. Wellman, which took place about the middle of January. During this short visit he was much engaged in business with his uncle, who had now made up his mind to leave the colony until peace was restored, and take with him his sister and his son Walter and daughter Mary; he also endeavoured to persuade Herbert, but he seemed now so taken with his assumed labour and determined to remain, that he ceased to urge him.

In consequence of the loss of her father, Fanny Wellman was the first two days invisible; but before he left to return to his post his cousin contrived they should meet for a moment. Oh, what a world of thoughts and feelings were embraced in that moment! And yet how little said! Enough for him to feel and know that she was the same, and through evil report or good report unaltered. The shadows of the last mouth vanished as he grasped her willing hand, and again vowed his fealty and love of her, though pained by her sad appearance, for care and anxiety had much altered her. Yet his heart revived as the dear old smile returned, and she told him how she hoped and trusted in him ever, in face of all, and that she well knew time would clear up the mystery, and restore him to her friends—as they at first deemed him—the soul of honor and truth.

With difficulty he tore himself away, pledging that the moment his present arduous duty could be relinquished with honor, and their present trouble over, he would seek an explanation, when he had no doubt he could satisfy and smooth away all difficulties.

Thus, again they parted. To most of our readers it may appear strange that the being separated only ten miles of a country, intersected with roads, and guarded by the Bell Block only four miles, and the Mahoetahi block midway from thence to the front communication, was frequent nor safe. Such, however, was neither the case. Short as was the distance between the forts, and open as was the country with good roads, still no one was permitted to pass them without a large escort, and the weekly supply to Mahoetahi, distant not three miles from Waitara, was sent with an escort of two hundred men and a field piece, from New Plymouth (distant nearly eight miles). Thus the road was very seldom passed, and for six months the mode of communication was almost exclusively by the little steamer, which often, in bad weather, could not take one trip in the week.

But though affairs thus slowly progressed, ravage, rapine and house-burning was carried on from the south to our very entrenchments, and New Plymouth for several months might be considered in a state of actual siege, for most imperative and frequent orders were issued for no one on any pretence to leave the precincts of the entrenchments, beyond the blockhouses.

Constant alarms and rumours were daily afloat of intended attacks on the town; and on more than one occasion, these alarms coming after dark, threw the town into the most dreadful confusion and distress, whole families rushing from their beds, half-dressed, to seek refuge in the places appointed as those of safety: a most imprudent arrangement, for had an attack really taken place, the very measures ordered to be resorted to would be the cause of destruction to most, for in place of remaining in their homes, fortified even in the simplest and most temporary manner, and thus checking the advance of a foe, they left their houses open, with lights in the windows, as by the orders published, and rushing wildly through the streets, would have given an opportunity quickly to be taken advantage of if an onslaught were ever made; for any one acquainted with the mode of savage warfare must know that the attack would be sudden and rapid, from several points; not delay to tear a house down if it were safely closed, but, dashing through the streets, they would only tomahawk those in their way, and force a passage, and retreat from the town.

It was not considered in this light until two or three of these alarms occurred, when the confusion was so great, and the folly of the orders so apparent, that it was determined to remain and barricade their homes. For the time we allude to, from December to March, such was the state of the town, both night and day, and though there were about six hundred men of all arms in the garrison, the dread of an attack still prevailed. Escorts to the blockhouses at Omata and the Bell Block were as before stated; but even here the cautious policy of those in power was apparent, for although in these relief excursions, as they were called, the foree advanced over the country in skirmishing order. When on one occasion they came on the foe, and routed them with some loss, an order was sent on the following day to avoid such collisions, and for the officers commanding escorts to keep their men to the road.

That this course delayed the war was evident, and that it encouraged the marauders apparent, for finding that hostile movements against them were avoided, they became emboldened, and ravaged up to the blockhouses, burning houses and carrying off cattle with unparalleled temerity. Thus they were also encouraged to fire on those escorts. One day's events will be sufficient to detail from many of a similar character.

One day towards the close of February, Major Herbert, commanding an escort to Omata, consisting of a mixed force of two hundred men of the 57th, 65th, and Militia, and a twenty-four pound howitzer, reaching the blockhouse between eight and nine a.m. the party piled arms and rested. Scarcely had they left their arms, when from a hill commanding their position, some seven hundred yards in front, a volley was fired from about one hundred of the enemy; fortunately only one man was slightly wounded. The arms were quickly resumed, and the gun brought to bear on the hill, which appeared to be rifle-pitted around its summit. A shell or two sent them out of the position, and a party having advanced, completed the evacuation, and took up position on the hill. A sharp fire was now kept up on the retreating savages towards the deep gully and Waireka hill, and the gun, with all the force, advanced on them. Reinforcements were signalled for, and the Maories getting into the bush, driven from hill to hill, returned a brisk fire on the advance. The gun took up a good position to rake the gully, and was kept actively employed. After a short time Colonel Young arrived on the ground, with one hundred and twenty men; and, after some consultation, and finding that a second and a third party were on the march as a further support, a more definite advance was resolved on.

Major Herbert, with his force and about sixty Volunteers who had joined from the town, were to advance on the ravine, and Colonel Young, with one hundred and fifty men, were to form a storming party through Omata, their advance being covered by the gun, and rush the pahs, which were seen to be but very thinly manned.

Most of the rebel force, no doubt under the impression that a simple escort party would not attack their pahs on the hill, had deserted them to join in the firing from the bush on the first advance. No sooner had this been determined on, than the whole force advanced in great spirit, and lining the hedges skirmishing, drove in the savage to his cover. Capt. Turner, 65th, and one hundred and twenty men, now appeared at the blockhouse, and the storming party pushed on. As, however, they reached the entrance to the village, and the gun fired the first shell as a cover and a blind for the advance, the Native Commissioner, Mr. Parris, gallopped up, sent post haste from Waitara, with positive orders from the General to Colonel Young on no account to advance through the Omata ravine, as such a proceeding would interfere with his arrangements. The whole force was thus compelled with much chagrin to retire, and fall back on the town.

“Militia Office, February 23rd, 1861.

“Sir,—I have the honor to report, for the information of Major-General Pratt, C.B., Commanding the Forces in New Zealand, that in obedience to Garrison Orders of yesterday's date, I marched from town at half-past eight o'clock, and under my command one captain, four subalterns, nine sergeants, three buglers, and one hundred and eighty-eight rank and file, for the purpose of escorting provisions for the detachment stationed at the Omata stockade, and to reconnoitre.

“I proceeded on the Beach road, and met with no opposition until I reached the stockade, and when in the act of giving orders to pile arms, there was a heavy volley from small arms fired at the escort, wounding two men slightly, from an ambuscade party of the enemy, consisting of about from seventy to one hundred, from an old fortified pah, situated on Major Lloyd's property, on a high hill about seven hundred yards from the Omata Stockade, towards the sea beach. I promptly returned the fire, and after three rounds from the twenty-four pounder howitzer, I ordered the 57th regiment to storm the enemy's position from the right flank, which was done in gallant style. I immediately advanced by the centre with the 65th regiment and the twenty-four pounder howitzer, and on getting possession of the hill, I discovered several rifle pits, recently constructed, besides which a good deal of original fortification. I foreed the enemy from every position he took up along the flats, swamps, flag bushes, sand hills, &c., and drove him into the Wainku gully, when I found I was short of ammunition for the gun, or I would have forced him from the gully.

“Lieutenant-Colonel Young, 65th regiment, joined me about between twelve and one o'clock, p.m., with a strong support, and being my senior officer, took over command of the whole forces.

“Before closing this my despatch, I feel very desirous of bringing before the favourable notice of the Major-General the gallantry and very determined manner in which the officers, noncommissioned officers, and men of the force under my command, carried out my orders; and wish to bring before the special notice of the Major-General, Captain Brown, Taranaki Militia, under my command, and Lieutenant Hasted, of Her Majesty's 57th regiment. The former officer was with the skirmishers the whole time whilst engaged, and his perseverance in gaining ground on the enemy wherever an opportunity offered, gave great confidence to the men of the Militia and Volunteers. The latter officer commanded the men of his regiment to my entire satisfaction, and showed a very great readiness to carry out my orders.

“I cannot ascertain the exact loss on the side of the enemy, but from what I can learn he must have suffered severely, as several wounded were seen carried away. Subjoined is a list of casualties, as forwarded to me by Dr. Nevin, Staff Assistant Surgeon, whom I recommend to the favourable notice of Major-General Pratt, C.B., for his coolness under fire, and always being found wherever his services were required.

“I am happy to state that the wounds are all of a slight nature with the exception of one—I have, &c.,

“Charles Herbert,

“Major Commanding Militia and Volunteers.

“Colonel Sillery, Deputy Quartermaster-General,

“Commanding the Garrison, New Plymouth.”

“New Plymouth, February 24th, 1861.

“Sir,—I have the honor to report to you, for the information of the Major-General commanding, that the force (one field officer, one captain, four subalterns, six serjeants, three drummers, ninety-one rank and file), left town yesterday morning about ten o'clock with the utmost expedition under my command, for the Omata Stockade, as a reinforcement to Major Herbert. On arriving at the Stockade, I found an orderly waiting in readiness to conduct me to Major Herbert, and I immediately proceeded with my party to join that officer. On doing so, I detached a portion of the 57th and 65th regiments, with Volunteers and Militia, to support the skirmishers in front, who were then, and had been for some time, actively engaged with the rebels, who had retreated to the gully on being driven by Major Herbert from the hill to the site of an old fortified pah.

“With the remainder of my force I proceeded, myself in command, taking with me the howitzer, in the direction of the Waraika hill, with the view to take the gully which crosses the road, and, if practicable, to endeavour to get in rear of the rebels, to dislodge them from their position, and to intercept their retreat to the pa on the Waraika hill; about three hundred yards from the hill near Ware's Inn on the road, a sharp fire was opened upon us, but without a single man sustaining the least injury. Extending my men on each side of the road, the howitzer was brought to the front, and after two rounds had been fired the fire of the rebels was at once silenced, and they were seen from the Omata Stockade to make a precipitate retreat to the dense bush.

“At this time, Captain Turner, 65th regiment, arrived from town with a reinforcement of a hundred men, with orders from Colonel Sillery, commanding Garrison, that I was not to cross the gully, but to remain on this side to support Major Herbert. I therefore returned with my party, united with Captain Turner's reinforcement, to what is called Major Lloyd's farm, where I had left Major Herbert in command, and on finding that the firing was still going on, I deemed it advisable to put a stop to any further unnecessary expenditure of ammunition, and accordingly gave directions to Major Herbert to recall the force from the front, and to retire gradually in skirmishing order to the Omata Stockade, which was conducted in a most orderly and satisfactory manner. Meanwhile I reinforced the men on the hill sight of the old pah, and extended two companies, concealed behind a furze hedge, in skirmishing order, under Captain Turner, in the hope that the rebels, seeing this party returning to the stockade, might be tempted to show themselves.

“In this I was disappointed, and after a short time elapsed, I recalled the whole of the men, remaining a short time at the Stockade. I returned to town with the force by the inland road without meeting with any hostile natives, and arrived about four o'clock. The casualties which occurred will accompany Major Herbert's report.—I have, &c.,

“W. P. Young,

“Lieutenant-Colonel 65th regiment.

“Colonel Sillery,

“Commanding Garrison, New Plymouth.”

It was afterwards ascertained that the full amount of savages did not exceed three hundred; that little or no resistance would have been offered in taking all the seven pahs; that by the advance on the hill they would have all fallen into our hands; and the enemy enclosed on both sides in the bush and ravine, would have been hemmed in, and killed or taken, thus giving them a lesson they would never forget, and close the war with an advantage untold.

Nor can we wonder, when such countermands as the above, on more than one occasion, took place, of the slow progress of the war; opportunities lost, and over-caution the law, that many were found who indignantly and openly reprobated such policy. It was from hearing such, and seeing the truth of these observations, that Mr. St. Pierre resolved to abandon the colony, which he accordingly did on the 6th of March.

Although, as mentioned before, an attachment of no ordinary sort existed between Mary St. Pierre and Walter Wellman, and which had gradually increased as trial and cares had come, still no opportunity occurred for their gaining the approval of their mutual friends, or even confiding to them the secret of their hearts. The sudden resolve, therefore, of Mr. St. Pierre, following so close on the death of Mr. Wellman, was so unlooked for by the lovers, that they had not the heart to make known the tie that bound them. And thus were the pains of parting made more bitter, not only to Mary leaving Walter actually engaged in the war, but the uncertainty of its cessation, or the return of her father. Thus, with mutual vows again, as their only solace, repeated, the parting was made in silence on the subject to those whose approval would have made them most happy and resigned, and which, in all probability, would have been gladly accorded by both.

No less sorrow and grief was experienced by the disruption of the closer intimacy of Fanny and Mary; and the former wept bitterly losing her friend. Her sole stay now seemed to leave her; the chances of her meeting Herbert each day more remote. The clouds still pending made him appear more and more estranged from her each day; his name even was now carefully avoided by her mother, who seemed to be most unhappy when ought occurred alluding to him, and as if she dreaded to hear of him.

Shortly after the departure of the St. Pierres, one morning, poor Fanny was fated to hear even worse news, for a stranger visiting casually, remarked, that Major St. Pierre, cured of his mad fancy for work and danger, had left for Sydney in the “Cordelia,” caused a revolution in her feelings that she with much difficulty restrained until she could escape to her room, where a flood of bitter tears relieved her saddened heart. But still she did not doubt him; still she bore with patience the hints of baseness so often unkindly murmured in her ear by Mrs. Grantham,

None knew her heart; the strength and purity of her love; and how all this increased her trust in him a thousand fold. If, indeed, we could read his heart, would we see that such trust and confidence was not misplaced. True, indeed, he felt the estrangement deeply, and he fled from the scenes that brought former days to his mind, abiding still his time till peace would smile upon the land, and he could demand an explanation, and his own loved Fanny.

Chapter XIV. A Change. “A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.”

Byron.

The last event recorded in the preceding chapter was the death of Lieut. McNaughten, R.A., on the 17th of March. Little was then believed about the rumours of peace. The battery of Armstrong guns and a strong detachment of artillery under Captain Mercer, had arrived, and were being mounted at No. 7 redoubt, and now their effect was tried on the position held by the Maories, but without any visible advantage or damage done.

The sap progressed but slowly; still each day it was nearer and nearer advancing. A final struggle was inevitable, or, as was most likely to be the end, an evacuation of the Maori position. Suddenly it was rumoured that an armistice was demanded for two days, and then it came out when such was granted that it was but a subterfuge to gain time and ammunition.

Thus, again, hostilities commenced with great vigour; and scarcely had they done so when H.M.S. “Fawn” appeared off Waitara with the Governor, Staff, some of his Ministers, and Waikato Chiefs on board, in order to adjust preliminaries for peace. A most unlooked-for change; all parties were tired of the war, progressing as it was by slow and painful degrees, for each day added to the casualties. The Maories were beginning to see the futility of a long resistance to the British arms.

The propositions from the Governor were received, and the peace conference established at Waitara, a truce pending which caused considerable gratification to the belligerents on both sides.

In the midst of all this anxiety, fear and hope, the mail steamer arrived on the 30th day of March, and the first news that greeted the expectant settlers was that General Pratt was ordered to Melbourne, and General Cameron and his suite were on board, though this news, without any previous notice of such a step being taken by the home authorities, was scarcely credited; yet the fact of General Cameron landing, calling for horses and being off to Waitara, not only confirmed the news, but shewed every one of what differnt metal was the new man composed of.

Let us precede General Cameron to the camp at Waitara. In the centre of the entrenchments, and facing the wharès occupied by General Pratt, a large marquee had been erected for the Governor. On the morning in question a government council was called to meet at ten in this marquee; and about ten minutes after that hour General Pratt was introduced to the Council as one of its members, and as such sworn in.

As this ceremony was proceeding, (an aide-de-camp stood before the tent;) several officers lounged around looking at or listening to, a group of chiefs, who waited to hear the talk of the great chief. Just then three horsemen cantered towards the entrenchment, and, alighting at the entrance, walked briskly towards the Governor's marquee. The gentlemen who led the way evidently seemed a man of station or authority, the snow of some fifty winters had embronzed his cheek, but the eagle eye and soldier-like bearing proclaimed a man full of life and energy; while the prominent face, with high cheek bones and firm-set mouth, told that he came “fra the hielands o' bonnie Scottisland.” Accosting the aide-de-camp, he said,

“I seek General Pratt.”

The young man entered the marquee at the demand, and beckoning to Mr. McLean, the Native Commissioner, repeated the stranger's demand, who, following from the marquee, enquired the stranger's business.

“I seek General Pratt,” repeated the gentleman, “I bear despatches from England.”

With a courteous salute, the Commissioner drew up the curtain, and allowed the General to pass, saying as he did so, to the Council.

“Allow me to introduce General Cameron, with despatches from England.”

Had a shell burst on the council table this startling intelligence could not have caused a greater stir among the company, and to none greater than the veteran, who certainly with justice, felt that “Othello's occupation was gone.”

This interruption for a time clouded the council's proceedings; but his despatches given, and some preliminaries for his assuming command and the other General's departure, he was again seen hastily returning to New Plymouth, enquiring all information relative to the country and the progress of the war. The following day he visited Waireka and the neighbourhood, and proceeding on board the steamer that evening, left for Auckland, to arrange other matters there.

Though to most of the inhabitants the prospect of peace was cheering, and made hope return, still the fear that their interests would be neglected and their sad losses unindemnified, was prevalent; and great distrust arose in the minds of all when the propositions for the peace were declared, these being considered far too lenient towards the natives, and much discontent gained ground.

The reception of the Governor on his visit to New Plymouth was in silence and sadness; and though we are willing to go a great length in our fellow-feeling for the settlers, and most deeply commiserate their distress and the very gloomy prospect before them, yet we think they should have shown more trust in Her Majesty's representative, and continued to ex- hibitexhibit that patience and endurance which the trials and sufferings of the past year had taught them to display. And yet there must be much indulgence and allowance made for those who had lost their all by the war and the difficulties now before them. When deprived of the pittance their service in the Militia afforded them, if the return to their devastated farms were decreed, they would go without the means of subsistance from their produce for months, and without any capital to restore their homesteads, or even have a shelter for the coming winter.

We can not, therefore, be hard on those who had so bitterly suffered, and were still doomed to suffer; and if a feeling of irritation was common and apparent, we should call to mind their former happy condition, and the struggle now to regain it, when they saw no definite plan or hope for relief or indemnification. Nor are we to blame too severely those who, thus situated, felt that the authors of all their distress and loss were treated with leniency; or, in the first construction of the terms, they felt themselves as abandoned to their fate, hopeless, homeless, and without the means of livelihood, or of making once more a fair start in life.

Did those who condemn them or reprobate so severely this irritation and discontent but look into the sad events of their individual history; could they, as we have done, have gone from family to family, and read each tale of sorrow, and the little hope for the future, they would pity rather than condemn. Could they, with disinterested feelings, see into the real state of each family, and at the present time could they but see how sorrow had multiplied upon them, how scarce was one family, amongst the five hundred said to people this once smiling, happy district, without a separate and distinct cause of grief and individual sorrow, added to the hopeless view of the future; how sickness and death had visited them, and how few there were who had not to mourn and grieve for some near or dear relative snatched from them by the rude hand of War or the no less ruthless destroyer Pestilence, they would not, could not, condemn those expressions and feelings which overwrought endurance and bursting hearts at this moment dictated.

Let us rather, then, commiserate and soften such irritation by the balm of hope for a brighter day to dawn on them, and by our influence, and every means in our power, assist in cheering the sufferers of this much-afflicted colony.

A change had come, and still greater changes expected; nor were the individuals connected with our story exempt from feeling these changes. They had suffered much, and they felt their losses keenly, not only the deprivation and ruin of their homes, and devastation of their fair lands, which, after years of toil, labour, anxiety, and outlay, they had made so beautiful and so productive, but other and more melancholy circumstances had taken place.

Mrs. Wellman lived and taught her children by her precept and example, and true to that mother's guide had those two dear girls lived, and their brother, with his own deep care, had laboured—joined by their no less winsome cousin—in every act of kindness and love to those in equal distress around them; and still trials increased, but they lost not that confidence and trust that gave them greater riches and hope of a brighter home hereafter, that could not be taken from them. Thus it was, and so employed to toil and care hitherto unknown, they still devoted certain periods of their time, in turn, to the tending and care of many of the ill and dying around them—for now a dire sickness had visited the town, and many were laid low,—still they laboured on, still watched and nursed and tended; but it came at last amongst them and their friends, and the fairest flower of that circle was hurried, in the first bloom of youth and beauty, to an early grave. Louisa, ever gentle and kind in tending on her friends, had taken the fever. The fiat had gone forth. A mother's love and fond devotion, a sister's care, and all that skill and watchfulness could do, availed not,—her pure spirit had fled, and on earth our little angel friend we met no more.

Mr. St. Pierre's eldest son, a young man of warm temperament but of delicate health, had, in silence and in sorrow, pined away, and e'er his loving friends had known of his increasing illness, or could have him with them, he had fallen a victim to rapid decline at Hobarton, whither, by his father's urgent request he had gone to await their arrival and to recruit his strength.

Mary, once the cheerful, laughing Mary, had pined away, and was now the cause of intense anxiety to the careworn Aunt Dorothy, who had watched her brother's health, broken by these sad reverses, with deepest care. And now, as wanderers, they had arrived at Hobarton too late to receive the last smile and dying words of the much-loved one, the first born, and their pride.

It was shortly after Major St. Pierre's arrival, in the “Cordelia,” at Sydney, that he learned of these matters from Mary, and which, though careful to hide from him her own ailment and sadness, yet the general tenor of her letters were so sad, that though he had proposed again to visit India and realize some property, to join his uncle with it, he now resolved to turn his steps rather to them in Tasmania. But a change was now looming over all, and great as was the change from war to peace, a still more unexpected change awaited those whose history we write of.

It was while awaiting the departure of the steamer for Hobarton that the mail from England and India arrived, by which he received letters on two subjects, equally important as they were strange and unexpected. Of one we may now speak; the other must come in its place, referring to others more particularly, though he was the hero of the incident.

Of the first, then. He had received from his solicitor in London an extract copy of a will by which to him, from a source wholly unlooked for, was left five thousand pounds. Some of the events which led to this munificent bequest we have not space to insert, suffice it here to say that during the mutiny, and before the siege and capture of Lucknow, he had, at a great risk and with considerable gallantry, attacked and defeated a party of the insurgents who had carried away the family of one of the wealthiest men in India; having pillaged his house of all his plate and valuables to an enormous extent, the rebels had retired, with his wife and children, into the mountain fastnesses.

St. Pierre at this period was a Captain commanding an out-post, and hearing of this onslaught and spoliation, followed, with the troop of irregular horse he then commanded, hard after the spoilers, overtook them in a mountain defile, and though not half their number, and they being some of the mutineers of well-disciplined troops, he hesitated not immediately to attack them. A fierce encounter took place; and after a most hard and difficult affair of two hours duration, the mutineers fled with great slaughter, leaving their captives and all the booty in the hands of the victors. St. Pierre had received several wounds, and many of his force were slain, but he was still able to march back to a place of safety; and giving all his care and attention to the rescued family, though suffering from his wounds, he never stopped or stayed his march till he placed them in perfect safety, with all their property restored.

St. Pierre, however, disabled by his wounds, gave up the charge of his troop, and returned to cantonments before Lucknow to his regiment, and being present at the siege and capture of the city, he was again wounded, and reported killed. Thus it was that all trace of him was lost, being again really laid up for a considerable time, during which the enquiries of his whereabouts by the President ceased, and he and his family returned to England. It was not until some years after, that one of his subalterns, seeing his name as commanding a wing of a regiment in India, mentioned it at this gentleman's house in London, whose daughter he had married; and then it came to light that every means to find St. Pierre had been for several months set on foot by him without success; even his first letters of thanks and promise of using all his influence for St. Pierre's advancement to General Wilson, were unanswered.

On enquiry into the circumstances of the case, it was found that he could only have got these letters just before his death at the capture of Lucknow; and so, as St. Pierre left on sick leave, and was reported as killed, all trace of of was lost. This was gleaned from the widow in London, whither Mrs. St. Pierre and Mrs. Langdon, the lady who was so interested in the enquiry, proceeded.

This lady also confirmed the account of St. Pierre, enlarging much on the heroic courage of our hero, and his skill and timely assistance in saving them from a fate worse than death. When, therefore, she was made acquainted with the facts of the case, nothing could exceed her grief and anxiety, and her desire to do all in her power to do away with a scandal so annoying to one to whom they owed so much.

She further described the deep anxiety, to the last hour of his life, of her husband and her own father, at whose instigation the legacy was devised, the moment they heard that Major St. Pierre was their deliverer, and still lived. And in the meantime letters were written to the Earl of Elgin, through the Minister, to be himself the bearer of the thanks and expressions of gratitude from them. The sudden departure of St. Pierre the second time from China and India, caused all these letters and instructions once again to fail; and thus it was that in Calcutta, when his subaltern, Hinton, was acknowledged as the hero of the rescue, and married the daughter, a scandal arose, when St. Pierre appeared on the scene, that he was a pretender to the heroship, and then that he had eloped with one of the ladies and afterwards deserted her, which gaining ground amongst some military men, was repeated in Hobarton as a fact by one or two officers who came there on leave in 1859.

It was at a party given by Lady Young that Mrs. Grantham heard some one speak of the arrival of a stranger there named St. Pierre. This was Mr. St. Pierre's eldest son from Sydney, who afterwards died there, as mentioned before. When enquiry was made of him, in the usual course of gossip, it was said that he came from Taranaki.

Mrs. Grantham was asked if she knew any family of that name; and in reply said she did, intimately, and more particularly spoke of a Captain St. Pierre, who was paying addresses to her niece, Fanny Wellman.

It was then that those two officers said it must be the same man of whom there was a sad gossip about in Calcutta the year before; and then, without knowing the truth of their assertions or the injury they were doing, stated positively as to its existence and truth. This story, thus confirmed, was by the next mail forwarded to Mrs. Wellman, and so arose the coolness and avoidance towards Herbert St. Pierre which caused so much pain and sorrow, and tried to its utmost forbearance the true and faithful heart of Fanny Wellman.

A change indeed had come. The same steamer that brought the new General and a change of tactics, giving hope to the despairing settlers; and the same week that brought a change from a weary and harassing war to peace, brought a packet of letters to Mrs. Wellman, who still, herself much taken by the kind and noble-hearted St. Pierre, had most painfully, and with bitter grief, acted as she had done for her loved daughter's future weal; and in seeing how her heart was wounded, and how firm was still her love and truth for the wanderer, felt deeply for her child.

It was therefore with feelings more easily imagined than described that she read the enclosures. She was still in the act of reading them again, to fully convince herself of the happy truth, when Fanny entered the room. With a copious flood of joyful tears, she strained her darling child, still unconscious of the cause of her excitement, to her heart, and when at length she could speak, she said,

“Fanny, my own heart's darling, we have wronged him. Herbert is the soul of truth and honor. Oh! how could I, contrary to the dictates of my heart, have so cruelly wronged or believed aught ill of one I loved for your dear sake so well.”

And then, with mingled tears and happy feelings, they read again and yet again the thrilling tale; and soon was joy spread o'er the before sorrowing home, and both Aunt and Cousins joined in all their feelings.

Mrs. Grantham was indeed at first particularly grieved and much annoyed, blaming herself for listening to or repeating such a scandal. But all was now joy, and sorrow was forgotten; and a family council that evening held, how or what steps should be taken to bring back the ill-used Wanderer to them again.

Fanny, with kindred feeling for her dear friend Mary, proposed that her brother Walter was the best emissary to go himself and see St. Pierre, and bring them all back to begin the world anew and rebuild with renewed hope and vigour their ruined homesteads once more.

To this all agreed; and so it was settled that he was to proceed to Sydney and Hobarton, and explain all, and bring the Wanderer, to wander no more, to his sister's feet.

Need we further proceed with the happy events that befell the happy brother and no less happy sister? Or need we state the success of this mission? how Walter was received, and the double joy his presence and his explanation gave. Soon the roses came back to Mary's cheek, and the first news Mrs. Wellman had was a note from him of Mr. St. Pierre's consent to their union, and their speedy return to Taranaki. There was also a bright flutter of joy on our heroine's face as we saw her on that evening and talked of all their plans and the prospect of a lasting peace. She must have had a letter too, we thought so, though dared not ask.

Our tale is now over. Tried in the harsh furnace of affliction, our friends have gained fresh hope and courage, and will again return to their lands with cheerfulness and hope; with grateful hearts to the all-wise Dispenser of all things; with renewed courage to begin the world anew; and by their example, courage, and assistance to those worse off than themselves, once more convert the desolated waste to the flowering glade, and the ruined and devastated sites of their former homes to new and still more happy abodes,—contented with their lot, and ever blessing the Heavenly Ruler for all the favours still in store for them.