The annual output of timber in the Auckland district is estimated at about one hundred million superficial feet, and the larger proportion is employed in the construction of houses, bridges, &c., in the colony.
Timber houses are a great deal more durable than many people would imagine: there are some still standing in Auckland—in fairly good condition—built nearly forty years ago. The mode of erection usually adopted is briefly as follows. Puriri blocks, sunk in the ground deep enough to insure a good foundation, and of sufficient length to project above the surface two or three feet, are set up in rows four or five feet apart. On these blocks—the tops of which are sawn off perfectly level with one another—is laid a frame of timber, marking out the rooms and passage, and on this the superstructure is raised. Instead of slates or tiles, thin strips of wood, called shingles, split off small blocks of Kauri, are most commonly used for the roofing, though corrugated iron sometimes takes their place. In the better class of house a brick chimney runs through the structure, but in the smaller and cheaper ones a wide wooden chimney is erected at one end.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE LABOURING-MAN SETTLER.
I trust the kind reader will excuse the somewhat sudden departure from my narrative to the forests of North New Zealand, which characterised the last chapter, and will now also pardon an equally abrupt return to my humble doings.
When in Auckland I had bought three or four books on colonial fruit culture, all of which I found, on investigating their contents, advocated thorough drainage. I therefore made up my mind to attempt to drain my smaller orchard, and in order to do so successfully, carefully took the levels, and planned out the drains. I tried digging them myself, but the work progressed so slowly, and my hands became so uncomfortably blistered, that I was obliged to call in extraneous aid, and applied to a labouring man, a settler in the district, for his assistance. His terms were seven shillings a day, which I with much reluctance agreed to give. He arrived at the scene of his labour at eight o'clock on the morning following my interview with him, took a full hour in the middle of the day for his dinner, and left off work at five P.M. with a punctuality worthy of a better cause. At the end of three days he had opened one drain to the required depth; it would take ten of them to drain the orchard, and they would require, in order to keep them open, filling up with tea-tree, the cutting and carrying of which would probably equal the cost of the digging. I therefore came to the conclusion that draining my orchard would go a good way towards draining my purse, and determined to abandon the project.
The labouring man, when I informed him of my resolution, said, with a melancholy air of superior wisdom, "I guessed you'd soon get tired of it," and appeared quite resigned to his dismissal.