December 2 Monday – The Clemens party left Napier for Palmerston North (pop.12,000). FE:

Left Napier in the Ballarat Fly [N.Z. express train] — the one that goes twice a week. From Napier to Hastings, twelve miles; time, fifty-five minutes — not so far short of thirteen miles an hour….A perfect summer day; cool breeze, brilliant sky, rich vegetation. Two or three times during the afternoon we saw wonderfully dense and beautiful forests, tumultuously piled skyward on the broken highlands — not the customary roof-like slant of a hillside, where the trees are all the same height. The noblest of these trees were of the Kauri breed, we were told — the timber that is now furnishing the wood-paving for Europe….Tree ferns everywhere — a stem fifteen feet high…a lovely forest ornament. … A romantic gorge, with a brook flowing in its bottom, approaching Palmerston North.

Waitukurau. Twenty minutes for luncheon. With me sat my wife and daughter, and my manager, Mr. Carlyle Smythe.

At Waitukurau Sam later related what he felt was another example of “mental telegraphy” — the transferring of an idea from his mind to Livy’s [ch XXXIV 315-7]. The Clemens party took rooms at the Club Hotel in Palmerston North. Livy began a letter to Susy describing the sheep country they had traversed, that she finished Dec. 5.

Sam gave his “At Home” lecture in Palmerston North. Shillingsburg writes that “the newspapers of this period have been destroyed by fire; therefore, it now seems impossible to discover what stories he told or how his audience reacted to them” [At Home 166-7]. Sam’s notebook gives us some flavor of the Club Hotel, where no smoking was allowed in the rooms:

Club Hotel. Memorable hotel. Stunning Queen-of-Sheba style of barmaid always answered the bell & then got up on her dignity & said lighting fires, brushing clothes, boots, &c., was the chambermaid’s business. Would she please tell the chambermaid? (No answer. Exit.) “Why do you answer the bell?” Sign up, saying landlord not hold himself responsible for baggage. No keys to the doors. Drunken loafers making noise down stairs. Said he had keys but didn’t know they was going to be wanted, & it would take a long time to sort them out; hadn’t any labels or numbers on them. Elderly & not very handsome woman said she’d a given up her room if she’d know people was so particular — She wasn’t afraid to sleep without a key. Got a key at last — midnight.

Early in the morning baby began — pleasantly — didn’t mind baby — then the piano tin kettle, played by either the cat or a partially untrained artist — certainly the most extraordinary music — straight average of 3 right notes to 4 wrong ones, but played with eager zeal & gladness — old, old tunes of 40 ys ago, such as I heard at Timaru — & considering it was the cat — for it must have been the cat — it was really marvelous performance. It convinces me that a cat is more intelligent than people believe, & can be taught any crime.

Rooms astonishingly small — partitions astonishingly thin — parlor the size & shape of a grand piano. Very funny hotel. Landlord shows ladies through with his hat on. Fat, red, ignorant, made of pretty coarse clay, possibly mud.

“Anything the matter with your head — or is it custom to keep it covered?” [NB 34 TS 45-6].