After five months voyage in a sailing ship (the name and dates are with either my son John or brother Frank, who have most of the family records). They arrived and took a coastal ship to Mangonui where they met the Butlers, after whom Butler's Point in the Mangonui Harbour is named. A day or two later they set off on foot to walk overland to the Mission Station in Kaitaia - a distance of about 28 miles, but probably more as there were no roads and they travelled by tracks along the ridges, which must have been quite hard going as the hills are quite steep, rising to about five or six hundred feet above sea level in places.

As they were leaving, Miss Butler, who was about my Grandfather's age, gave him a letter to give to her friend Margarita Puckey, who lived with her parents at the Kaitaia Mission. I saw this letter about one hundred years later among Granny's treasures; it said "This is to introduce the two Mr. Blyths - you can have one, I want the other!" Granny took her advice, but Miss Butler married a Mr Lusk.

In due course they arrived in Kaiatia, and delivered the letter. Before long Grandpa decided to settle in the North, and chose to take the 40 acre grant, which all settlers were given, in Paranui next to his fathers and where other land, some in natural grass, a rare thing in that area, was available.

His father, who was wealthy, being assistant commissioner of the Punjab in India, provided the finance and intended to retire and join Grandpa, bringing his Capital to invest in the farm.

Paranui was chosen because based on English experience, Mangonui would be the Port, and Kaiatia, which had rich land but no Port would be reached by railway which should have come through Paranui, the Blue Gorge, to Fairburn's line, and so to Kaitaia. A comparatively straight line with few rivers to cross, or hills to tunnel.

The fact that top dressing was to come and make the gumfields into good farms, so that the roads finally went through Taipa to Awanui in the 1930's and missed Paranui by five miles, was not foreseen in 1860.

Grandpa married Margarita Puckey, and came to Paranui to a small house he had built from materials available on the farm -timber construction with a limestone chimney cemented with cement made by burning lime stone in a kiln cut into a bank, complete with a flu to create a draught, this was still evident 80 years later when I asked my father what the hole was. There were also the remains of post and rail and ditch and bank fences, lemon and willow trees , arum lillies, a mint patch and a hop vine which had somehow survived in spite of neglect.

In those days each family was largely self supporting, the hops being essential in preparation of the bread, baked in camp ovens.

The nearest neighbour was about-a mile away, Mrs D. Hunt, a widow, with her two daughters and two sons - the latter owned separate farms in the lower Oruru Valley. In spite of the distances and difficulty of travel, visits were regular between neighbours and members of the family's; so in due course Granny's eldest brother William came to spend some time with them, and of course met Miss Margaret Hunt.

They fell in love, which did not meet with Mrs Hunt's approval, so they used to meet on a hill above the farm for some time. However Mrs Hunt finally gave her consent, and they were married, settling on his land which is now Wireless Road Kaiatia. That farm was being run by a great grand son in 1960.

Sometime later the Hunts decided to sell out and move to the Waikato. Great Grandfather, purchased the Paranai farm which had a good four bed-roomed house complete with brick chimney and stove. The purchase was made in the name of Herbert Blyth (known as Barrymore, the actor) .

About the same time the local Maoris agreed to sell the Hikuranga Hill, an extinct volcano, which had at one time been fortified. The amount was paid in gold, and Grandpa was present at the distribution to the owners. The Chief, of course, had the dividing and arranged the owners in a circle, each with his hat in front of him, the Chief's hat was in the centre. The procedure was to place one sovereign in the Chief's hat and one in anothers then another in the Chiefs!! The others were quite satisfied with this arrangement considering the Chief quite entitled to take half!! This payment in gold was noted in the Record's Office and was the proof needed when many years later-the descendants tried several times to get the sale set aside and the land (five hundred acres) returned to them. (Maoris). I believe the purchase price was ten shillings per acre, which was the price paid for most of the land in the area at that time. It was only worth three pounds an acre unimproved value 90 years later, so they received a fair price.

Several other sections were purchased from absentee owners, so the total area was about fifteen hundred acres. Not very big when compared with the areas farmed in other parts of N.Z.

The purchase of the Maori land meant the farm reached the landing on the local tidal creek, where all purchases had to be brought by boat from Manganui and then hauled the final two miles to the homestead by bullock teams or carried on pack horses. It was four miles to Taipa and then another eight through Doubtless Bay to the Manganui Harbour. They had a twelve or fourteen foot rowing boat. It took a full twelve hours to bring their purchases home. Up to this time things had gone along smoothly for the young couple, for though the area was isolated they had no money worries, and it would be only a matter of time before the farm would be developed.

Then disaster!! Financial. Great Grandfather Blyth had invested in or owned a share in the Agra Bank, which like many other Banks all over the world failed. This was before the days of the limited liability companies. So the owners of a Bank or other institutions which failed were forced to sell up all their possessions to meet the debts. Great grandfather could not retire after all, nor was he able to support Grandpa any longer, the farm was not paying. The only produce being wool, and sometimes cattle which could be sold and sent south by scow from Taipa to the Auckland market. The prices naturally were very low, wire was not yet available, so even with low wages fencing was very expensive.

So, though they could produce most of what they needed in the way of meat and vegetables and even had grown their own wheat, something had to be done.

As Grandpa was one of the best educated men in the district he set up a school in Oruru, three miles away across the hills. This brought in very little cash, though full use was made of his lessons! The father of one of his pupils insisted on his son teaching him all he had learned during the day and so learn to read and write himself -free.

About this time relatives in England secured Grandpa a teaching position in a good school there. Granny refused to leave the North.

One Christmas they had nothing extra and were expecting a very plain, dull day, when a man arrived with a packhorse loaded with all the ingredients for a Christmas dinner, and presents for the children - at least three by this time. Grandpa told the man he had not ordered the goods as he could not pay for them; the reply was "I remember some years ago when my flock of sheep were stolen, you gave me enough to start my flock again, I couldn't pay you then, and this is my way of paying now. There is no charge."

Some time after this the decision was made for the family to lease the farm to Mr. Rathall. They moved first to Russell, where Grandpa taught the school there. A year or two later they moved to Waihaha, further up the Harbour to a native school, and though Grandpa never learned Maori Granny was fluent and the children became so, as they had Maori nurses for the first few years.

Most of their supplies came by rowing boat, they would sometimes go for picnics to other parts of the Harbour. I cannot remember being told much of their life there. I believe the Maori children learned quicker than the few whites. Many of the adult Maoris came to learn also - they were all very keen. Later they moved again to Tangiteroria on the northern Wairoa, another Maori school. In all, Grandpa taught school for about twenty years.

The family then returned to Paranui and took over the farm again. By this time Uncle Val was over twenty and was expected to do the farm work. Also fencing wire was now available so that fencing could be done more easily and cheaper. Also, there were seven children by now and the larger house was needed. Unfortunately there was only one other son, Edward, my father, and he only ten, so though the girls did all they could, they did not have the strength to do the heavy manual work required to break in the land in those days of bullock teams, two handed saws, spades, and axes. Neither Grandpa nor Uncle Val were very strong either, so though they existed large areas of the farm which was either in heavy bush or titree was not cleared.

Though the land owned amounted to about 1,500 acres there were literally thousands of acres of unimproved land, largely gumfields - I.E. poor clay land with a hard white pan on which Kauri trees had grown and shed their gum. This gum kept the north solvent for many years; very many of the early settlers began their early life with a spade and an axe and could make better money than working on wages, many finishing with their own farms.

Their cattle would roam these areas with those of other people, the cattle were all wild. To tame them sufficiently to sell it was necessary to fence about one hundred acres around the original homestead; this was done and stock was sold from there.

Though vegetables and meat were home grown cash was still short, some roading was being done by this time - on contract by the local men. Other available work was in the bush, Kauri forests, and later other native timbers, so that the occupation of the men would be partly on their land, and part on whatever other work was available. They survived, but not much more. Grandpa was more an intellectual than a farmer, and 1 was told of how he would leave a nice shaped titree growing rather than cutting it down! With the inevitable result that when the grass seed was sown there was a good crop of titree also!

With the shortages of lime phosphates and other trace elements in the soil being unknown at the time the farming did not succeed. There was never enough money to improve their position. About this time (1900) my father, then twenty years old, and probably after family discussion, decided to have a bullock team as the only practical means of haulage, particularly of heavy logs, ploughing etc., and because bullocks can live on the rough feed available whereas heavy horses are not able to manage on this type of land. (as was proved some twenty years later, when heavy horses were tried with disastrous results.)

The next five or six summers spent hauling logs, there being a lot of native timber being cut and milled in Mangonui, Totara North and other areas about. When that was not available he hauled gum from the various camps about. These camps would sometimes consist of one hundred men, often Dalmatian particularly in the swamps of the Northern Peninsula. He never talked much of his experiences except once when he slipped and fell in front of the wheel of a wagon with two tons of gum aboard, one wheel went over his buttocks but thankfully did not break any bones, though it put him off work for three weeks.

Sometime in 1905, Dad and Mum became engaged. "Mum" being Sybil the third daughter of Margaret Hunt and William Puckey. (For further information on the descendants of this marriage, see the book, Deborah Hunt.) Note also as Mum liked to be called "Sybil' though she was registered "Sibella", after Aunt Sibella who lived to be 103 years old.

Mum and Dad were first cousins, and met some opposition from the parents, but consent was given because there were many "cousin marriages" among the descendants of the Missionaries, as the records show, and, because Mum and Dad were both strong and healthy. Of course they went to Doctor, Uncle Tom Trimnell, who approved. The good health of we descendants proves the point he was right. As seemed to be the fashion then, the engagement was for three years - some were longer. During this time, Dad continued contracting with his team working on the farm between contracts. He cut the trees on the farm, to which he added further 80 acres of bush, carting it on a four wheeled wagon across country there being no road to Parapara where the nearest sawmill was located. The site chosen for the home had a beautiful view of the surrounding country though water was a problem. The basic part outside walls and some partitions were completed before the wedding, to be completed later as was the custom in those days and area. There were some mistakes made in the milling one being not enough flooring and too much weatherboarding, so that the back half of the floor was in nine by three quarter instead of six by one, however it lasted until 1950, when Mum and Dad moved to a rented cottage, having leased the farm as a run-off, More about this period later. They were married on 8th. December 1908. By this time Dad's team was in the Kaeo area working for Lane's mill in Totara North, so Mum packed up and followed, living in a nikau whare close to Dad's work. She was not alone as other wives did the same thing.

Cooking was on open fires, "camp ovens", cast iron pots with lids shaped so that coals could be placed on top, after the main part was buried in hot ashes. The hours worked were long and hard - the normal day would be, up not long after daylight to round up the team, which had been "belled", i.e. large bells on straps for each bullock, and turned loose the night before in the bush, as very often the only feed available - the under-growth in the bush being largely good quality. On other occasions taller trees of karaka, mahoe, were cut so that the bullocks could reach the leaves, at other times the bullocks were left to feed on mangroves on the tidal flats. The bullocks soon learned to know what the sound of chopping meant, and would come, but there were always one or two who preferred naturally, to remain free instead of being made to work. One in particular was better at "holding" his bell, so that it wouldn't ring, and so let Dad or the dogs, who learned to listen for the sound of the bells find him. So that the bullock could chew the cud without the bell sounding at all, he would find a small cabbage tree, and stand so that the head of the tree would go inside the bell and prevent any sound being made. This all took time so it would sometimes take hours to round up the whole team.

Having got the team together and yoked work could begin at whatever was required to get the logs to the mill.

The usual method was; after the trees were cut into logs of manageable size they had to be hauled to the nearest creek which was then dammed. The dam would be tripped after the logs were in place and during a flood which would carry most of them to the tide, where a boom would be strung across the river, the logs would then be rafted to the mill. If the distance to the creek was short they would be '"snigged" i.e. each log pulled on its own on a track cut through the bush. For longer distances either a "cat" was used on a skidded road (a "cat" being a large sledge) and the skidded road had small logs laid across it, on which the "eat" ran with a grease boy putting some form of grease on the skids just before the load touched it. For longer hauls still a four wheeled wagon was used. When all this was done, there were, inevitably, some logs which became stranded and had to be rolled or pulled into the water again, Dad did all this type of work on contract. He did not make a fortune, but at least he lived and kept his team, which was better than some others did - who borrowed from the mill owners and then because of circumstances could not repay, and so lost their teams. This went on for some years, until about 1912, by which time I was born (1910) Margaret 1912, and the local Dairy Factory was built. Bush work of course can only be done during the summer months, otherwise the clay tracks and roads became a quagmire, as did most roads in the area, there being little metal used and that only on the main routes.

The winter months were spent in improving the farm rounding up half wild steers and cows either for sale to local cattle dealers or any steers which seemed as though they could be made into good workers. In many cases the only way was to "bulldog" i.e. gallop up beside the wild one throw yourself off your horse catching the steer by the horns and twisting its head, causing it to fall. In many Rodeos this action is shown on a nice flat yard, but the places where Dad did his catching were open hills, often gum fields where the ground had been dug over with spades. Note that in Northland there were thousands of acres which had been dug this way which left a very rough surface. This made it even more risky to fall on!! With the animal caught and roped to an old tame working bullock, it and the young one tied to it would be brought home.

So far I have said little about recreation and sport. By the turn of the century there must have been some halls large enough for some thirty or forty couples to dance in, because I've heard my parents speak of some of the dances they went to and enjoyed, even though it meant a ride of some miles to and from the hall through mud in the winter and dust in the summer. Mum told me of riding in the ditches on the side of the road in preference to the two or three feet of mud in the middle of the Kaitaia roads. It would be at least one foot deep on the hill roads. Also people used to visit friends and stay days where they lived say 20 miles apart - a four or five mile ride - wheeled vehicles were used at times but the old folks spoke mainly of riding or walking.

Shooting and pig hunting for fun and meat gave excellent results. Pigeon, duck and pheasant were very plentiful, so there was no need to go hungry on that score during the season. Dad told of bags of fifty duck in a day or of six pheasants in a morning, as a regular experience. Other times group would join together at some beach or other place. For the men there were the military training camps, drills and shooting. Most of the men went to the Boer War, Dad was not taken because of his deafness, (from the age of 7).

To say that they made their own fun would be correct, as the following shows: Mum's father, W.G. Pluckey was an inventative chap and made a gate latch which could easily be opened from horseback. This was particularly necessary as in winter the gate-way would be deep mud. So the gateway was duly made and swung - unpainted. One of the nephews decided this was not right so one night he took a pot of paint and painted the gate. He or another told the story in verse, which I have seen and wish I had copied. Another thing which W.G. made was a spring cart, for Mum's and Dad's wedding present. He built the whole thing. Wheels - out of Puriri, and only had the steel tyres made and fitted by the local wheelwright - some job for an amateur when it is realised that every piece of wood had to fit in perfectly otherwise the wheels would not run true, which they did. The cart itself did not last long thanks to jibbing horse that decided to go backwards instead of forwards over a twenty metre bank - Uncle Val was driving and jumped clear, the horse broke its back and had to be destroyed, but the wheels were saved and finished some thirty years later as the back wheels of a buggy.

The advent of the dairy industry brought great changes. The Cooperative Company was formed with each farmer taking a number of shares and undertaking to milk a certain number of cows, Grandpa's lot was, I believe, six cows, of course by hand, and the milk being carted three miles to the Oruru Factory. It was while doing this that the cart was broken. As can be imagined no fortunes were made. The factory was powered by a steam engine, and there being no coal in the area titree wood was burned - having been cut into four foot lengths. It was not long before the closer wood was cut out, and our farm being about three and. a half miles from the factory, Dad tendered for and supplied much of it.

The great war broke out and the young men left. Two of the three that worked for Dad did not return. After the war home separation - each one then had its own separator, hand powered and Dad began milking.. By this time there were four of us, a school was opened in the District, on a half time basis with the Taipa School, one teacher working three days at one and three at the other, and giving homework for the intervening period. Depending on the teacher, who sometimes decided that every second day suited him better. There were twelve to fourteen children at the school. It was soon evident that the few cows we could run on the grass we had was not enough to keep us so Dad went back to contracting hauling timber. By this time the roads in the Oruru valley were metalled so Clydesdale horses were purchased after the bullocks were sold. A poor crop of oats and a hard winter put paid to that, and Dad lost all his horses.

In 1922 the cow herd was increased and a milking machine purchased as hand milking caused neuritis in most of us, I escaped - my job was to hunt up the cows - quite a job as the paddocks were large, and most of them titree at first. In the meantime Dad had bred two half draught horses - he'd hoped for four, but only got three and lost one while breaking her in. The other two proved very successful living to be over twenty five years old, and were the main source of power for over fifteen years.

So far I've written of memories of what I was told by various members of the older generation, which like Aunt Carrie describing in detail a frock she had worn when she was five years old. She was about my age when she told it, 72 yrs. which I found very amusing - however, I find that I can now do the same and., as it will give some idea of our life about 1916, here it is: "It seems that Mum and Dad had received an invitation from Louis Matthews 2nd; cousin, who lived at Aorere at the mouth of the Parapara River about six miles away across country - twice that distance by road, to spend a week with them - it was my first experience of staying at the seaside. Anyway they decided to ride - three horses, Mum with the baby Doris, on one horse, Dad with the baggage on another, and me, then six, with my 3½ year old sister behind me on the third, very quiet horse. Something had held us up and we didn't leave until late in the afternoon, my memory of the journey was up and down steep hills, across several streams, most of it in the dark. A thunder storm came up, except in the lightning flashes it was so dark I couldn't see the horse in front. We finally arrived wet through, cold and hungry. However the next day was fine and our holiday was happy - we never did it again, tho' sometimes we rode or went in a buggy. It was rare to see another family unless it was an organised picnic, such as Boxing or New Year's Day or the annual factory picnic.

I also remember my first day at school - I was seven and for some reason the family had decided that Margaret, then not quite five, should go with me. Mum had taught me the alphabet and to count. It was the custom that we each owned our own horse (and later a cow), so we rode my horse, there was a nice little flat not far from the house, so I got the horse to canter. He decided to pig jump, a mild form of buck, and we both fell off. We picked ourselves up and were given a quieter horse who then bumped my knee into the gate post, cutting it quite badly. I still have the scar.

I also remember being very pleased with myself when I milked nine cows at one milking when I was nine years old, this before and after school, and for a few weeks only. This was not an outstanding feat, as many of the other children at the school did as much or more; some years before one boy about ten was earning his keep and a few shillings a week from the Aunts - Dad's four maiden sisters, still living with Grandpa and Granny, in the house bought from Deborah Hunt.

The next event was the birth of Frank, when I was twelve - a brother at last, after four sisters, but of course he was much too young for a playmate - to understand the importance of family playmates for country children, we must realise that the nearest neighbour with children, was nearly two miles away, so except for lunch hour at school there was little or no contact between the children of the seven or eight families in Paranui.

Some two or three years earlier, the district got together and built a hall where we all learned to dance. Everyone would go, babies slept in the corners, there was no drink most times, though some men would bring some at times and the dances would stop for awhile. Music was provided free, by one of us. Dad, C. Campbell, one or two others or myself, after I was fourteen or fifteen, on a violin or accordian, sometimes with Guitar - most times not. Just one instrument with a good heavy foot to keep the beat, by today's standards, not much, but it was all we had. These dances went on until the early 1930's when motorcars and metal roads made it possible to go greater distances.

About this time Dad developed what was afterwards diagnosed as a kidney complaint which kept him unwell nearly all the time. As well as becoming steadily more deaf until at about fifty five he could not hear anything and depended on self taught lip reading. He was fitter after his kidney com- plaint was treated at sixtyfive than he had been for the previous twenty years or more.

Again when I was twelve Grandpa died, he was eighty - and as was usual one of the neighbours dug his grave on the farm, and of course would take no payment. Everyone was kind, friends and relatives coming. I have rather vague memories of more men than I had ever seen there before. It was the custom for only the menfolk in a family to attend funerals of all but the closest relations. It was the first funeral that I and my sisters had seen.

Grandpa had made out his will trying to give his heirs the best. that he could, and what they wanted, i.e. the maiden Aunts wanted sixty acres cut off at the landing for them, even though they had always lived in the home which was of course in the name of Herbert Blyth. The rest was in common to Dad and Uncle Val. The Draft was sent to the family solicitor in Kaitaia and was duly drawn up and signed. Though Grandpa was always careful in his use of words, he did not notice that the words ''and their heirs" had been added. The effect of this was that nothing could be done with that part of the farm until the youngest member of the family was twentyone, that was from 1922 to 1943 when Frank came of age. Sometime before Grandpa's death an attempt to finance ring fencing of the property was made by mortgaging the five hundred acre block, previously purchased from the Maoris. Most of the work was done - about three miles, when Dad had to seek outside contracts again to earn enough to live on. Supplying wood to the Factory, ploughing for a neighbour then gum digging (one year), growing early potatoes on a frost free area. This all helped to keep us alive, but it was insufficient to pay the mortgage and we were in danger of losing that area.

Mr. W.T. Williams who had married Granny's youngest sister took over the mortgage, and offered to lease the five hundred acres for twenty one years to improve it. Grandpa turned down the latter offer.

When Uncle Val and Dad had each become twenty one Uncle Will had offered to take them to Hawke Bay and teach them farming methods, but in each case the offer was refused. When I came of age Dad and Mum made sure I was able to go away - one and a half years High school, thanks to Aunt Eva Allan and later to Mangakuri Station, to Athol Williams. When I returned I was unable to put the ideas into practise to any great extent one reason being the difference in the soil and climate. So the subsistance farming continued. County rates being a main hurdle. We put up a small saw mill to cut timber for a new cow shed and repairs to the house. We just got out of debt after the 1930 slump when the second World War broke out. I went into the R.N.Z.A.P. in 1940 and Frank in 1942. We were both commissioned as wireless airgunners in due course.

On our return in 1945 the farm had gone back - titree taking over about one hundred and fifty acres of the new grass sown immediately before we left. The girls had done their best to keep things together while we were away, but no topdressing etc., made the situation impossible. In addition, the Rehabilitation Dept., refused to finance me onto that farm and would only do so on one of their selected farms. I Balloted for a number, but was not successful. Then the deposits required increased and my cash decreased, further, the family could not agree on the sale of the farm until twelve years later by which time I had abandoned the idea of farming and entered the State Service in 1949. Frank had never intended to farm. 1962 saw the end of farming in Paranui. The farm was then sold to Taipa Farms Ltd., I stayed in the State Service 25 years, in Whangarei and Auckland, retiring in 1974.