Out and About.

Ladiesand gents, meet Mr. Goof, author of On the hoof with Goof and Nutty Notes on fallacious facts.

“We understand, Mr. Goof, that you know New Zealand.”

“Know it! Although I was born here I know it as well as if I were a tourist. I have walked all over its geography, slept on its geology, and been bitten by its entomology. I know it from geysers to oysters, from Ninety Mile Beach to Forty Mile Bush, from Short Reach to long beer, from pub to pub, and from bad to worse. I know every drop of it from D's to T's. I know its Flora and Fauna, and nice girls they are too; many a pint they've twisted for me. I have escaped from Otago in my socks, been blown out of Wellington on my ear, and thrown out of Auckland on my reputation. I have taken the baths at Rotorua, the beer at Waitemata, and the consequences at Mt. Eden. I have been on a bicycle in Christchurch, the water-wagon in Ashburton, and the cadge in Dunedin. I have picked horses at Riccarton and hops at Nelson; caught cod in Pelorus and cold in Parnassus. I have seen Ngaruawahia, heard Ngauruhoe and smelt Ngahauranga. I have had hot tongue at the cold lakes and cold shoulder at the hot springs. I have been empty in the Bay of Plenty and full in Poverty Bay. I …”

“We gather, Mr. Goof, that your knowledge of New Zealand is comprehensive, pervasive and complete.”

“Complete? My information, sir, is more than complete; it exceeds probability and transcends veracity. It is unbelievable.”

“Shoot, Mr. Goof! Tip us the fruits of your mendacity!”

“Will you have it straight, curled, or permanently waved?”

“We are at the mercy of your prevarications, Mr. Goof. We are confident that you know the lie of the land.”

The Lie Of The Land.

“All of them, sir, all of them. Let us begin with Stewart Island, the piece of the southland that escaped from the mainland before the arrival of the first Scots settler; otherwise it would never have escaped. It is separated from Southland by Fouveaux Strait and the fact that there is no free ferry. Its chief industry is oyster-trapping. This is effected by sticking forks in the sand, prong-end up, and strewing the vicinity with plates of vinegar; the oysters in attempting to spring into the vinegar are impaled on the forks. Mutton birds are also snared in meat-safes by hunters disguised in butchers' aprons. Apart from the cries of wounded oysters and the plaintive bleating of imprisoned mutton-birds the island is a veritable garden of eatin’. Next we have Otago, taking care, of course, that Otago doesn't have us first.

Oyster Trapping at Stewart Island.

Otago is Scottish and the language spoken is Anglo-saxpence. Being the last bit of inhabited country in the world very little can get past it. But the people are noted for their hospitality and welcome the stranger with open cash-registers. The main industry is playing the bagpipes, and the chief recreation is business. Dunedin is a happy city where they toss the caber, and other liquids, in the Octagon, so named because of the prevalence of “Ochs.” The lassies are so bonnie that cosmetic travellers visit Dunedin to refresh their sales-talk.”

Meandering In Mendacity.

“The non-thermal lakes are in Otago. They are situated on the shores of Queenstown and, as there is no fence round them, they are very popular. The Remarkables, built next to the lakes by the far-seeing Scots, attract discouraged ice-cream merchants from Wellington desirous of rehabilitating their faith in business. Next door is Milford Sound where dental students from Dunedin University go to get inspiration from Mitre Peak. Next we have Canterbury, an extensive plain worn flat by commercial travellers and footballers page 54 page 55 from Otago. Canterbury is English with a faint Irish accent due to the extensive cultivation of “Murphies.” Most of Canterbury is devoted to mutton and grain, but fortunately a corner was left for Christchurch. Christchurch was discovered when the Lyttelton Tunnel was bored through. Its inhabitants live on mutton and bicycles. But it is very cultured and supplies all Wellington's best ideas. Its Catherdral is named after Cathedral Square in which it stands. There is also the Avon after which Shakespeare's river was named. Christchurch's river has no bard, but no doubt one will be built in due course. Envious Wellingtonians claim that you can step across the Avon. This is a libel; it is quite a jump. But its banks are so beautiful that it wouldn't matter if the river were filled in. Christchurch claims to be the chief city in Canterbury. Timaru, named after a well-known brand of beer, denies it. Nelson, of course, is the garden of New Zealand. Its chief products are hops and college-boys. The hops are boiled up for beer. The college-boys are useful, too. Westland is just round the corner on the left. It raises timber, coal and umbrellas in great quantities. The chief difficulty on the Coast is to get past its bars in which the traveller is liable to get scuppered. But “coasters” are so friendly that it is a pleasure to be barbound in their company. Wellington is acknowledged to be the capital city except by Auckland and Petone. Auckland denies it on general principles, and Petone on the ground that the first sod was turned at Petone for the seat of government long before Wellington started clearing the ti-tree off Lambton Quay. But Petone is beginning to realise that it should have done something about the second sod. Much of Wellington city was made by shovelling the hills into the harbour. This is practically the only townplanning ever attempted. In common

“An exaggeration to say that in Wellington, it blows the soles off your boots.”

with Auckland, Wellington can boast of the best harbour in New Zealand. Wellington is very cosmopolitan, and people constantly blow in and out of it. The prevailing wind helps. But Auckland's allegation that it blows the soles off your boots is an exaggeration; it seldom does more than lift the eyelet-holes out. The new railway station is a noble building, and the trains are so proud of it that they have to be positively driven out every morning. Great difficulty, too, is experienced in inducing passengers to leave it to board the trains. Some of them want to board in the station. The museum and art gallery is greatly admired by visitors. Several Wellingtonians have visited it, too.

Taranaki would have been considerably larger if so much of it had not been jacked up to make Mount Egmont. Still, there is enough left to park the cows. There is even room for a few human beings. The language generally spoken is a mixture of Mookow and Butterphat.

Hawke's Bay is where all the motorcar salesmen go after the wool sales. Napier is its chief city, and Hastings makes all the money. Hawke's Bay is called Hawke's Bay because otherwise you would never guess that there was a bay. But the people are fond of a joke, which probably explains “Waipukurau.”

Auckland, in common with Wellington, can boast of the best harbour in New Zealand. Auckland city is the chief suburb of Auckland Harbour. The people go there to recover from their week-ends. Aucklanders are rightly proud of their city and never tire of the subject although Wellingtonians often do. When they get the proposed bridge across the harbour the city will be practically merged into the suburbs and it will be possible to transact most of the business on the beaches. Upstairs from Auckland is North Auckland, situated on the Bay of Islands where the big fish come to angle for visiting fishermen. This is one of the few spots where sharks are regarded kindly. Ninety Mile Beach, so called because it is seventy miles long, is up there, too. It is a toheroa bed but the toheroas don't get much rest and usually end up in the soup. I could tell you a lot more,” apologised Mr. Goof, taking out his watch, “but I'm due at the Fisherman's Club to give an address on ‘The truth and how to avoid it.”