Among the friends of colonists at home in Britain, among those who talk most and know least of this land of the blest, I specify three classes. First, there are the people who talk of "roughing it" with an air of rapturous enjoyment, and a Micawber-like roll of the voice, as if that were really something good, something both pleasant and praiseworthy in itself. Again, there are those who shudder at the bare idea, and who conceive it, perhaps, to be a good deal worse than it really is. Lastly, there are some who are quite vacuous in the matter, either because the term conveys no meaning to their minds, or because Nature has made them indifferent to personal comfort and discomfort.
Now, in the first place, roughing it is not a nice process. There is nothing at all delightful or charming about it. Plainly, it is suffering. Suffering of numberless discomforts and privations, slight in themselves as a rule, though not invariably so, but certainly a serious matter in the aggregate. Nor is there anything grand or glorious in the prospect of roughing it. Merely in itself it does not add to a man's good in any particular way. It has to be got through in order that certain ends may be achieved. That is about the sum of it.
On the other hand, there is nothing to daunt healthy young fellows in the prospect of roughing it. Only those who are delicate, or who are of sensitive nature, need turn back from the possibility of it. And it must be remembered that, to succeed eventually in any path of life whatsoever, some sort of hardship, toil, and self-sacrifice must be undergone.
Of course, you cannot carry the drawing-room with you into the bush. That side of life, with much of the refinement belonging to it, is swept completely out of your reach. And what is of more importance still, your existence is apt to grow somewhat unintellectual. Yet these are matters that are already remedying themselves. As comfort and competence are gradually achieved, and as society becomes large, so do the higher results of civilization follow. And as pioneering progresses into the more advanced stages of improvement, so do the opportunities and possibilities for mental work and culture become more generally and readily appreciable.
To us, when we first came out from England, the life here seemed utterly delightful, because it was so fresh and novel. We were quite captivated with it. Our existence was a perpetual holiday and picnic, to which the various difficulties and discomforts that cropped up only seemed to add more zest. But we soon got over that. We soon began to find that it did not rain rosewater here. A rude picnic prolonged day after day, year after year, soon lost its enchantment, and merged into something very like suffering. We began to yearn after those flesh-pots of Egypt which we had left behind us; and there were times when we have regretted that we ever emigrated at all.
Now we have settled down to a calm and placid contentment with our lot. We begin to see what results are possible to us, and there are signs that our chrysalis condition is finite after all, and that some reward for our toil will be ours ere long. The days of our worst poverty and difficulty lie behind us, and better things are in store.
We have been thankful for one thing. Our society in this district is limited; but it comprises persons of some small amount of cultivation and intelligence. We appreciate this at its fullest, for most of us have, at one time or other, had to work in other parts of the colony, where our only associates were of the rudest and dullest mental organization. We are kindred spirits, and are happy in our way, making light of difficulties, laughing at hardships and privations, and mocking at poverty and toil. By this means we believe that we enjoy to the utmost all the good that there is in this life of ours, and that we measurably lessen the struggles and troubles that have to be gone through.
And now to revert more particularly to our home life in the shanty.
The insect world is a great feature in Northern New Zealand, both as to variety, which is extensive, and as to quantity, which is illimitable. Within our shanty there are certain species which make themselves felt, smelt, or otherwise apparent to our annoyance, without taking into consideration the hosts that, as far as we are concerned, are innocuous.
St. Patrick is reported to have driven all the snakes out of Ireland; and, according to O'Gaygun, he afterwards journeyed over here, and performed the same service in these islands. The deed was done, says my informant, in order that this Canaan of the South Sea might be made ready for descendants of Hibernian kings, when the proper time should come; and that time, he continues, was when loyal and true sons of Erin should be seeking afar for a home, where the Land League would cease from troubling; and the landlord be at rest!