Norfolk Island.

From Our Own Correspondent.

Norfolk Is., Sept. 7.

AFTER a wonderful winter, during which period, from time to time, the unprecedented spectacle of dust blowing about our unmetalled roads was to be seen—spring is in bloom. The birds are singing and mating, the gar dens are gay with scent and colour, and the patient husbandman is abroad on his warm, rich acres, sowing the seed of harvests to come.

Shipments of potatoes and tomatoes are leaving by every steamer and bananas are fetching better prices than for some time past. New settlers are coming in—some from as far distant as Canada —and we hope that they are but single spies heralding an ultimate battalion.

The Census.

In any event, our last census, taken at the end of June, surprised and heart ened us greatly. We had thought that our total population—babies and all — was well under a thousand; we found that the official figures were close upon 1,250.

We have a rare annual crop of babies on Norfolk and if, as some thoughtful person has said, babies are a country’s finest immigrants, then our island is assured of her future, for our babies— What with the climate and the simple life imposed of necessity on their parents—are remarkable specimens of health and intelligence.

A Naval Visit.

Early on the morning of August 23, H.M.A.S. “Australia” dropped anchor off the Cascades and thirty-six hours of intensive festival set in; the men coming ashore in relays, the officers en masse and for the duration. There were golf and football matches, dinner parties and dances —concluding with a fine searchlight display from the ship before her departure on the second night. The visit was voted a great success on both sides, but the islanders were left with a genuine grievance which calls for ventilation.

From time immemorial —as Norfolk counts time—it has been the pleasure and the privilege of the island to enter tain, as a community, such ships of the British Navy as chanced to put in. No monetary charge has ever been made for any form this entertainment has taken, and when time has permitted of a dance in the Rawson Hall—named after Admiral Sir Harry Rawson, when Governor of New South Wales and, in those days, Administrator of Norfolk Island also — the decorations have been in willing island hands and the supper provided by the many first-rate cooks of the island homes. No entrance fee has been charged for the dance.

For the second time now, the hospital committee has fortuitously booked the hall in advance for the great night and has not cared to relinquish the date for the benefit of wider interests. A dance has certainly been held, but it has been of a more formal character and a charge—prohibitive to many in these hard times —has been made; the

money taken appropriated to the hospital funds.

This is the kind of thing that leads to ill-feeling and prejudice against settlement from “outside” and no occasion should be given for further criticism when next we entertain one of His Majesty’s ships. It is a pity to disregard old customs and to remove such landmarks as entitle us to consider ourselves unique in an era of standardisation; to destroy the charm and picturesqueness of the island in this

rapidly-changing world.

The Reaper.

Even here, where time drifts by unheeded and one grows old almost imperceptibly, death comes at last and within the last few weeks we have lost five of our elder residents.

“Aunt Hope” Taylor—one of the remaining four Pitcairners—died last month at the age of 89. She was five years old when, with all the rest of the Pitcairn settlement, she boarded the ship “Morayshire” for transport to the more spacious acreage of Norfolk Island in 1856; but she remembered, above all else, the picture presented by the tall and solitary coconut palm that drooped over the little sandy spring, bubbling with the bright water that was all their drink in those simple Arcadian days.

Mr. and Mrs. A. E. Martin who, with their family settled here some years ago, from Vila, are mourning the loss of Mrs.

Martin’s mother, who died at daybreak on September 2. Madame l’Hopital came out from France to the New Hebrides with her husband in the days when each new settler was a pioneer, and spent there a most interesting 27 years. She will be missed by many friends here and deeply regretted by all those who knew her so well in the islands farther north.

New Laws.

Within the last year there has been a general tightening up of laws, by-laws and ordinances upon this island, and it is seldom a week goes by without our observing our solitary constable busy posting up, here and there, notices for our information and attention. This drastic change of policy is greatly to our present advantage and to the ultimate benefit of the Territory as a whole.

The future must be taken into consideration, as well as the interests of the fleeting moment, and measures that may seem to bear hardlv upon sections of the community now will be one day recognised as foresight and vision worthy of our deepest appreciation. We want to preserve all that is of value of our old island life and tradition, but we must move with the times, too, and make life in the future safe and prosperous for our descendants, and we are fortunate in having an Administrator who takes a serious view of his office and his responsibilities towards the island and the people over whom he rules.