A Scene at Makaraka.

Gisborne Standard and Cook County Gazette, Volume III, Issue 390, 13 December 1889, Page 3

A Scene at Makaraka.

[Somewhat after the etyle of Fennimore Cooper,] It was a glorious morning and King Sol was rising in all his splendour. The gentle souther had visited Makaraka on the previous afternoon, but without bringing with it its usual rain. It was this morning—the day of the election—the day fraught with the dearest and best interests of those who have resided and who are residing in New Zealand’s most prolific district, misnomered Poverty Bay. That something most important was occurring, or about to occur, was evident; knots of people eagerly talking, horsemen riding rapidly, undoubtedly on business intent, the general stir so enlivening the quiet little township that even to an outside visitor it became palpable that something out of the usual order of things was about to take place. Of course those resident knew and in affable manner informed the visiting outsider as to why the bustle was occasioned. Naturally enquiries were made by the latter, but just as “ the oldest inhabitant ” was about to answer, the crack of a whip was heard — familiar to well-educated ears—but in the distance so far as the stranger’s. There was a pause : still nearer and nearer came the resounding tone until at last even the visitor was enabled to discover that with the swish and loud report of a bullock whip a voice was distinguishable. The before alluded to “oldest etc.” caught the stranger, like the “Ancient Mariner,” with his “ glittering eye,” and thus addressed him.

“ Wait till he comes and you’ll 'ear somethin’. He aint no slouch, but he’s kind a knowin’. This ere man ’as been a knock-a-bout-sort, and ’as more knowledge than most about 'ere. You see he’s a bit of a general and knows exactly how to place any candidates ever steppin' out on an electioneering race track.” The unsophisticated one naturally waited, and having invited the O. L into Hogan and Currie’s to both thank and treat him, suddenly again heard the cracking of the whip. Rushing out he observed a very “dusty ’’ bullock driver who was laying his weapon (of guidance or correction) most vigorously on one of his team.

“ Steady, Rees I Get up Arthur, you lazy beggar I Rees is pulling as much as two of you. Whoa, Rees I Whoa 1” Then wiping the perspiration off his brow he remarked, “ I've christened them bullocks after the names of the candidates, but I know now which ope to back.” The tourist passed on, but he had heard enough, and he felt that the “dusty” driver was not far out in his selection.