This is an excerpt from the very rare and early book by F W Boreham entitled, From England to Mosgiel. We would love to republish this and are hoping that sufficient donations might make this possible. If you can contribute to the amount needed please let me know. Geoff Pound.Here F W Boreham records the last part of his sea voyage from England and he writes his first observations of his new province, Otago, New Zealand.
As the evening drew on we were nearing the Otago capital. And the last hour of my voyage was, I think, the most enjoyable of all. Since leaving London I have seen nothing more delightful than the beautiful harbour running up from Port Chalmers to Dunedin, lying calm and still in the quiet of that lovely summer’s evening, the harbour lights reflected in the mirror beneath, and the pale moon shimmering beautifully upon the whole scene. Like Wellington, Dunedin is very hilly, and herein lies its beauty. To ascend some of the hills, and look away over the harbour or across the heights on every side is to survey a landscape which might tempt an R.A., or inspire a poet. The city itself is beyond all doubt or dispute by far the finest in New Zealand. Princes Street is the principal thoroughfare, and consists of series of tall well built shops and offices. The Grand Hotel is probably one of the largest buildings in the city. Knox Presbyterian is also a fine sample of colonial architecture.
Mosgiel, my destination and future home is situated about ten miles south west of Dunedin on the beautiful and fertile Taieri Plain. Within easy driving distance of the sea-coast at Brighton on the one hand, and of the city on the other, it is most pleasantly and conveniently situated, whilst the hills which surround the township, contribute largely to its beauty. A more delightful spot it would be difficult to find. Mosgiel is noted for its large wool factory, which forms the chief industry of the borough, whilst a number of coal mines are dotted about on the slope of the surrounding hills.
So ends my journey from London to Mosgiel. It has occupied exactly fifty days, and the voyage has been both enjoyable and profitable (certainly from a physical aspect) not to use the too thread-bare adjectives—“amusing and instructive.”
To express an opinion on the colony on so short an acquaintance would be obviously premature. And yet, perhaps there are some things which one would naturally notice at first more than after a prolonged stay.
Familiarity is apt to breed contempt. My firm impression was that the colonists are very proud of their island home. On being introduced, the remark, “It’s a grand country you’ve come to,” is expressed almost as regularly as the usual comments on the weather. And I think their pride is a justifiable one. I was certainly charmed with what I saw of the colony in my tour from Wellington to Dunedin, and I suppose the south island is only a shadow of which the north is the substance.
My second impression, I think, was that education is at a much higher standard in the colonies than at home. It may be difficult to account for this, but the fact stands out in defiance of all dispute. I have made careful enquiries as to the correctness of this impression, and find it verified on the best authority.
The telephone is a great institution in the colony. I remarked the same at Hobart. Everybody has a happy knack, on the slightest provocation, of ringing up everybody, and everybody takes it in remarkably good part.
Photography is also a decidedly popular business and seems to have reached a high stage of perfection.
The climate is, of course, impossible to judge on so brief an experience. Suffice it to say that during the ten days that I have been here (March 11-21) the weather has been exactly like our English midsummer, and I am told that this is by no means exceptional. This, considering that December is the colonial midsummer, would seem very promising. One peculiarity, very noticeable to a stranger, is the shortness of the twilight. There is no lingering betwixt light and darkness—day and night as at home. It is light—there is a sudden overcast which is quickly deepened into darkness and it is night. This seems to be atoned for, to some extent, by the additional beauty of the southern sky. On a fine starlit night the heavens are decked in surpassing splendour, and an evening stroll through the tall groves of fir and blue gum trees, is a treat indeed.
But, as a new comer, I have no right whatever to write at greater length on a subject on which I am not qualified to express an accurate opinion. If ever long colonial experience tinges my locks with grey, and long travel in New Zealand, causes my feet to totter feebly on her coasts, I may presume again to test your patience. Till then, let me don the simple garb of a novice, and quietly and gracefully retire to hide my head in the silent regions of unassuming ignorance. Adieu!
Yours truly,
FRANK Wm. BOREHAM
Mosgiel,
New Zealand,
March 21st, 1895.
Image: "I have seen nothing more delightful than the beautiful harbour running up from Port Chalmers to Dunedin, lying calm and still in the quiet of that lovely summer’s evening, the harbour lights reflected in the mirror beneath, and the pale moon shimmering beautifully upon the whole scene."