Australian Tales - Setis

“Joy Cometh in the Morning.”
THERE are doubtless many persons in Sydney at the present time who
can recal the rage for land jobbing which prevailed about twenty-five
years ago; and many, too, will sorrowfully remember the disastrous
reaction which soon followed that unhealthy desire for speculation. The
land mania was not confined to Australia, but extended to neighbouring
places, especially to New Zealand, which had not then been formally
proclaimed a British colony, and was only partially known to Europeans.
About that time, however, a current of emigration set that way. Many
persons went there from Sydney, in the hope of making good bargains in
land from the natives, before the British Government took possession of
the islands, and put a stop to the one-sided traffic, while others went with
a view of being foremost in the field of enterprise which a new country
always offers. Numbers of young men went in the expectation of being
employed as surveyors, or getting appointments, of some kind, under the
new Government which was to be shortly established there. The
majority, however, were sadly disappointed in their projects; and if the
disclosure would be beneficial in any way, I might adduce some
lamentable example of ruin.
It would be difficult for me to offer a satisfactory explanation why I
gave up a lucrative position to pursue an indefinite object. I had heard
exciting stories of lucky men buying as much land as they could see from
the top of a kauri pine tree for a few muskets, or a keg of tobacco; and I
thought I should like to buy a nice little estate of half a million acres or
so, upon some such easy terms. Perhaps, seeing so many others going to
Maori-land, stimulated me to hasten away too, lest I should be too late
for the prizes, which the Maori chiefs were distributing so lavishly. It is
certain that many older and more experienced men than myself could
give no better reason for going to New Zealand at that time than that they
saw many of their neighbours going; and it is not the only time that I
have seen multitudes of men following each other to misery, led away by
the force of example.
In the year 1840, I took my passage in a bark of three hundred and fifty
tons, for the Bay of Islands, New Zealand. I shared the port stern cabin
with a friend, named Archy Weedle, an astute gentleman, much older
than myself, with whom I had planned that my future fortunes should in
some measure be united. In the hold of the ship were sundry packages of