Identifier: throughsouthwest00more (find matches)
Title: Through South Westland : A journey to the Haast and Mount Aspiring New Zealand
Year: 1900 (1900s)
Authors: Moreland, A. Maud
Subjects:
Publisher: London : Whitcomb & Tombs
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Internet Archive

View Book Page: Book Viewer
About This Book: Catalog Entry
View All Images: All Images From Book
Click here to view book online to see this illustration in context in a browseable online version of this book.

Text Appearing Before Image:
an might arrive at night worthhis £500, and leave the little township next daywithout a penny. And if they played hard, theyworked hard too, and endured hardships andprivations little heard of nowadays. In the endthe successful ones went back to civilization, ortook up land and settled down with wife andfamily. The failures drifted away, leaving a fewold derelicts, whose ties were too long brokento be mended, and the mate they worked withdead and gone. But Ross has gone ahead sincethose days, and gold-mining demands all the latestmachinery, and sluicing on a vast scale is carriedon. We came in for a very wet day during ourstay, and I spent it climbing about behind thetown among the old workings, where chasmsyawned whose bottoms were filled with blackwaters, and where one scrambled over mountainousheaps of broken rock and debris. In all directionsthe hills were gashed and rent by the power of thesluicing hose. Here and there, amid blackenedstumps, some forest giant still green held up
Text Appearing After Image:
WATERS OF WESTLAND. 21 protesting arms to heaven ; tangled masses oftree-ferns and creepers still sent out living frondsand tendrils, though pitched headlong down thescrees—everywhere ugliness and ruin : The ruined beauty wasted in a night,The blackened wonder God alone could plan,And builds not twice ! A bitter price to payIs this for progress—beauty swept away. But the ruin and the ugliness are inevitable.Where there is gold, all outside beauty must fieeaway before the digger. The disused workingswere a desolate place on a wet afternoon, andbroken sheds and rusting machinery depressedone ; and as I viewed these things, I sorrowed forthe passing of the Forest. Behind me the hillswere hidden in a pall of rain; in front stretchedthe gold-flat with a ragged row of poplars on itsmarshy edge ; beyond that again, a blanlv wall ofmist hid the Pacific, moaning sullenly on the sand.I was glad to come in to tea and a cheerful firefrom these meditations. In the hotel we had visitors. The on

Note About Images