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A Wharf at Auckland.
Chapter II.
AUCKLAND.
“Some in their robes of purple pass,
Some in their robes of green,
And some, in orange and blue and gray,
Skip over the clouds on a pale moon-ray,
In the train of the fairy-queen—
Skip in her train thro’ the long cloud-bars,
In the wake of her chariot drawn by stars.”
The first thing that struck me in Auckland was the dress of the women and girls. So smartly were they attired, though it was only ten o’clock when we landed, that I thought it must be a general holiday and that all these gay garments were worn for a gala occasion. But Colonel Deane laughed when I asked him if this was the case, and assured me that to see anyone shabbily dressed in New Zealand was quite a rare occurrence.
“They get very good wages, you see,” he explained, “and I am afraid that they are not very thrifty, nor very sensible, either. A large proportion of their earnings is spent on dress and cheap jewellery, and the working classes attach a great deal too much importance to appearance. But as everyone who is able to work can always obtain it if they like, perhaps there is no great harm done, and it certainly is a pleasanter sight than the drab shabbiness that prevails in London!”
I thought that a happy medium would have been more attractive, as well as more suitable, with a mental vision of the neatly-gowned and shod, hatless, but “bien-coiffe” women of the same class in France, but it was not my business to criticise, so I said nothing. We were on our way to the ferry, as we were to begin the day’s explorations by a visit to the North shore, and very
