The City of Dunedin.--Scotch Residents.--The Enchanter's
Wand.--Chain-Cable Tramways.--Volcanic Effects.--The
Salvation Army.--Local Gold-Fields.--Enormous Aggregate
Product.--Trees and Flowers.--The Rabbit Pest.--Port
Littleton.--Market Day in Christchurch.--An Interesting
City.--Wonderful Extinct Bird.--Strange Record of an Unknown
Race.--The New Zealand Forests.
We sailed from the Bluff at sunset on our return from Invercargill,
having a boisterous voyage of fourteen hours to Dunedin, the chief city
of Otago District, and indeed the chief city of New Zealand, if we make
the number of inhabitants and the wealth of the place a criterion of
comparison. Port Chalmers, situated a few miles below Dunedin, forms an
outer harbor, so to speak; but vessels drawing twenty feet of water moor
at the city wharves at high tide. We were told that the channel from the
sea to the town was to be deepened so as to admit of vessels reaching
the wharves at all stages of the tide, and that dredging for this
purpose would begin at once. The lower harbor is land-locked, being
surrounded by hills which slope gracefully down to the water's edge, the
general conformation here recalling the scenery about the Lakes of
Killarney. All the way up the river from Port Chalmers, a distance of
nine miles, the banks are dotted with pleasant rural residences,
picturesque acclivities, and low wooded ranges. Here and there were seen
broad fields of grain and rich pastures, with domestic cattle grazing,
and a few score of choice sheep,--the whole forming an aspect of rural
thrift and peaceful abundance. If, as was the case in our instance, the
tide is too low to admit of the steamers going up to the town, one can
land at the Port and proceed to Dunedin by rail,--an opportunity which
was gladly availed of, as we had "enjoyed" quite enough of sea-travel
for some weeks at least.
The cities of both Australia and New Zealand have a habit of locating
themselves among and upon a collection of hills, up the sides of which
the houses creep in a very picturesque manner. Dunedin is no exception
to this rule, rising rather abruptly from the plateaux where are the
wharves and business centre of the town, to the summit of the foot-hills
about which it lies. The town is more undulating in its conformation
than Hobart, so lately described. A portion of the level plain near the
shore, upon which broad streets and fine substantial blocks of buildings
now stand, consists of made land, redeemed at great expense and trouble
from the shallow water front. This whole section is as level as a
dining-table. Heavy shipping business cannot well be conducted on a
hillside; therefore the construction of this plateau was a necessity, as
the town grew in size and extended its commercial relations. A couple of
mountains close at hand, each of which is considerably over two
thousand feet in height, dominate the city.
The Scottish character of the early settlers of Dunedin, as well as that
of the present population, is emphasized by the names of its twenty odd
miles of well-lighted and well-paved streets, of which nearly all the
names are borrowed from the familiar thoroughfares of Edinburgh. The
only monumental statue in the town is that of Scotland's beloved poet,
Robert Burns, which is situated before the Town Hall, in a small
enclosure. The first settlement here was as late as 1848, by a colony
nearly every member of which came from Scotland, from which source the
city has continued to draw many of its citizens. The Scottish brogue
salutes the ear everywhere; the Scottish physiognomy is always prominent
to the eye; indeed, there are several prevailing indications which cause
one half to believe himself in Aberdeen, Glasgow, or Dundee. This is by
no means unpleasant. There is a solid, reliable appearance to
everything; people are rosy-cheeked, hearty, and good to look at; there
is a spirit of genuineness impregnating the very atmosphere, quite
wanting in many places named in these pages.
The wand of the enchanter touched the place in 1861, from which date it
took a fresh start upon the road of prosperity. It was caused by gold
being discovered in large quantities near at hand, and from that date
Dunedin has grown in population and wealth with almost unprecedented
rapidity. Large substantial stone edifices have sprung up on all the
main thoroughfares devoted to business purposes,--banks, public offices,
churches, store-houses, and schools,--giving a substantial aspect quite
unmistakable. Numerous large buildings of white freestone were in course
of erection while we were in the city, the material being brought from a
neighboring quarry. This stone very much resembles that which we found
in such general use in Tasmania; it is very easily worked, but rapidly
hardens upon exposure to the atmosphere.
The market gardening for the supply of vegetables to the citizens of
Dunedin was found to be carried on in the immediate vicinity by the
Chinese, just as it is in and about the cities of Australia. No one
attempts to compete with them in this line of occupation. There was
found to be here about the same relative number of Asiatics as elsewhere
among these South Sea colonies, and a small section of the town is
devoted to their headquarters.
There are numerous tramways in this capital, the cable principle being
adopted in most of them. Dunedin, indeed, was the first town in
Australasia to adopt this improved motor; and although horsepower is
still employed upon some of the thoroughfares, the former mode has the
preference both in point of cleanliness and economy,--besides which,
horses could not draw heavily-laden cars up some of the steep streets of
Dunedin. The sensation when riding on one of these cable roads up or
down a steep grade in the city, was much the same as when ascending or
descending the Rigi in Switzerland, by means of the same unseen motor.
The car is promptly stopped anywhere to land or take in a passenger, by
the simple movement of a lever, and is as easily started again. There is
no painful struggle of horse-flesh to start forward again after each
stop. The powerful stationary engine situated a mile away, by means of
the chains beneath the road-bed, quietly winds the car up the declivity,
however heavily it may be laden, without the least slacking of power,
irregularity of motion, or any visible exertion of force. It seemed to
us that no better motor could possibly be devised, especially when
rising grounds are to be surmounted. The principle is well demonstrated
in some of the steepest avenues in San Francisco, where cable tramways
have long been successfully operated.
Dunedin has two capacious theatres; also a public library containing
about thirty thousand volumes, attached to which is a cheerful
reading-room supplied with all the best magazines and journals of the
times, including several of the most popular of our American issues.
Not to contain a Botanical Garden within its limits would be for the
place to take a retrograde step among its sister colonial cities; and so
Dunedin has a very creditable one, with many exotic trees and plants,
which have readily adapted themselves to the climate. Among these there
were observed some beautiful larches, junipers, cypresses, Chinese
gingko-trees, Irish yews, Indian cedars, American birches, and many
magnificent tree-ferns. Mingled with these were flower-beds of heath,
laurestinus, daphne, and yellow gorse, all in gorgeous bloom, though it
was mid-winter. The daphnes had both blossom and red berries upon their
stems at the same time. The palm-like cabbage-tree is indigenous, and
imparts an aspect of Equatorial Africa to the whole. To us there is a
pleasing revelation in these trees and plants, however simple they may
be in themselves. There is a refinement, a delicacy of taste, a love of
the beautiful in Nature evinced in all such gathering of the products of
widespread countries and different hemispheres, and placing them in
juxtaposition. Wonderful are the lovely contrasts and striking natural
peculiarities presented to the eye in so comparatively a small compass.
Time was when one must travel the wide world over to see these arboreal
representatives of varied climes; now they may be enjoyed in an
afternoon stroll through the flower-decked paths of some local botanical
garden.
Real appreciation looks deeper than the surface; there are stories and
legends always ready to be whispered into the ear of the inquiring
traveller. These singularly formed hills about Dunedin are not mere
barren rocks; they have their suggestiveness, speaking of volcanic
eruptions, of wild prehistoric upheavals dating back for many thousands
of years. Scientists tell us these islands are of the earliest earth
formations. The ground upon which this city stands, like that of
Auckland farther north, is composed of the fiery outflow of volcanic
matter.
It goes without saying that Dunedin has all the usual educational and
philanthropic institutions which a community of fifty thousand people
demand in our day. Especially is it well supplied with educational
advantages, which seem to be conscientiously improved by the rising
generation. The sum expended upon the public schools by the Government
is very large; the exact amount is not now remembered, but we recollect
being impressed with the fact that it was remarkable for a community of
no greater numbers. Throughout New Zealand there are over eight hundred
registered public schools of the various grades. The public buildings,
notably the University, High School, Provincial Council Hall, and the
Presbyterian Church,--this last of a very white stone, nearly as white
as marble,--are all imposing and elegant structures.
These cities have not escaped the nuisance of the "Salvation Army,"
whose principal arguments consist of instrumental noise and torchlight
parades. Here in Dunedin, as in Sydney and Melbourne, Auckland and
elsewhere in the colonies, they constitute a chronic bore. They are
composed of about one third women, and two thirds men and boys; the
women beat crazy tambourines, wear poke bonnets, and sing aloud in
cracked voices, while the men form themselves into instrumental bands,
and produce the most hideous discord. These designing, or deluded,
creatures tramp through the streets, in rain or shine, howling and
uttering meaningless shouts until they are hoarse. The authorities do
not interfere with such demonstrations, though they are clearly a public
nuisance; but the mob deride and jeer them. Doubtless the persistent and
remarkable exhibitions indulged in by these noisy religionists attract
the vulgar imagination, and make followers if not converts. The public
house at which we were stopping--the Grand Hotel--faces upon Prince's
Street, which is the principal thoroughfare of the city, and in which is
a square, ornamented by a monument erected to the memory of Captain
William Cargill, the leading pioneer of this region. About the base of
this well-lighted monument, it being night, a band of Salvationists were
alternately playing upon brass instruments and singing hymns while we
were endeavoring to write. The impression was thus strongly forced upon
us that this open-air piety, this noisy and gratuitous religious
serenading is more disagreeable than efficacious for good.
Having spoken of the Grand Hotel of Dunedin, let us add that it is one
of the best houses of public entertainment we have found in all
Australasia. It is a large, elegantly-appointed freestone building,
under admirable management,--a little in advance perhaps of the present
requirements of the city, but the population is rapidly increasing, to
which end a first-class hotel largely contributes by attracting
strangers and making their visit agreeable in all that conduces to
their domestic comfort.
Within about seventy-five miles of Dunedin are some of the most
productive gold-fields in the country. Gabriel's Gulch, so called, has
proved to be a mint of the precious metal so rich that all the tailings
of the diggings which have been once worked at a handsome profit, are
just being submitted to a second and more scientific process in order to
obtain the gold which is known still to remain in them. The amount of
these tailings in gross weight is doubtless hundreds of thousands of
tons; what percentage of gold to the ton will be realized, remains to be
seen. An interested party informed us that it was confidently expected
that more profit would be obtained by this second treatment than had
been realized by the first. Some average samples sent to England for
scientific treatment yielded at the rate of two ounces and one half of
gold to the ton of tailings. If even two ounces can be realized, these
diggings of Gabriel's Gulch will prove a Bonanza indeed.
New Zealand in proportion is nearly as rich in gold deposits as is
Australia, and the precious metal is found under very nearly the same
conditions; that is, in quartz reefs and in alluvial deposits. Much gold
has been found here in what are termed pockets, under bowlders and large
stones that lie on the sandy beach of the west coast. This gold is
popularly believed to have been washed up out of the sea in heavy
weather; but undoubtedly it was first washed down from the mountains by
the rivers, and deposited along the shore. Official returns show that
New Zealand has produced over fifty million pounds sterling in gold, or
two hundred and fifty million dollars, since its first discovery there.
Besides Europeans there are several thousand Chinese engaged in mining
for gold; and here as in Australia these Asiatics work upon such claims
and such tailings as have been abandoned by others.
Fern-trees abound in and about Dunedin, often growing to a height of
thirty feet, with noble coronals of leaves,--far more effective and
graceful than the fan-palm which is seen in such abundance at Singapore,
Penang, and in Equatorial regions. The fuchsias grow to mammoth
proportions and to a giant height here. We have never seen this favorite
so large elsewhere, with one exception,--in the Summer Gardens of St.
Petersburg, where an exotic plant of this beautiful flowering shrub had
grown to the size of a tree, twenty feet high. About the suburban
residences of this colonial capital laburnums, roses, laurels, and
lilies abound, blooming all the year round. Innumerable exotics have
been brought hither, and as was remarked to us by a citizen who was
exhibiting a fine display on his own grounds, "the plant that will not
thrive in New Zealand in any month of the year with ordinary care, out
of doors, is yet to be found." This gentleman showed us a tiny flower in
bloom, so like the Swiss edelweiss that we asked whence it came, and
learned that it is a native of the mountain regions of New Zealand. It
was surely an edelweiss, the simple but beautiful betrothal flower of
the European Alps. It has a different name here, which we cannot recall.
As to trees, the elm, beech, willow, fir, ash, and oak have so long been
introduced from England, have been so multiplied, and have grown to such
proportions, that they seem native here. Botanists tell us that there
are not quite fifty different species of trees in England; but we are
assured by equally good authority that there are a hundred and fifty
different species found in New Zealand,--an assertion we could easily
believe after having been in the country a few weeks, and enjoyed the
beauty of its abundant forests.
When Captain Cook first came hither, he fully understood the cannibal
habits of the native race, and desired to take some practical steps
toward discouraging and effacing such inhuman practices. Upon his second
visit, therefore, he introduced swine and some other domestic animals,
including goats, in the vain hope that they would ultimately supply
sufficient animal food for the savages and divert them from such
wholesale roasting and eating of one another. The goats and some other
animals were soon slaughtered and eaten, but the swine to a certain
extent answered the purpose which Captain Cook had in view. That is to
say, they ran wild, multiplied remarkably, and were hunted and eaten by
the natives; but cannibalism was by no means abolished or even
appreciably checked. Wild hogs are still quite abundant throughout the
Northern Island, springing from the original animals introduced years
ago.
With equally good intent, though not for a similar purpose, in later
years rabbits were introduced into the country, but have in the mean
time so multiplied as to become a terrible pest, consuming every green
thing which comes in their way. "Like locusts they devour everything
that grows out of the ground," said a stock farmer to us, "and would if
left to themselves soon eat the sheep out of the fields." The flesh is
recognized as good and suitable to eat, but it is so abundant that it is
held in small repute, the skins only as a rule being preserved, and the
carcasses left on the ground where they are killed, to be consumed by
hawks and other carrion-eating birds. When brought to market, as they
are daily, the retail price of rabbits is two pairs for sixpence, the
seller retaining the skins and receiving the bounty paid by Government
for their destruction. We were told that London and Paris are the
largest consumers of the rabbit-skins, being freely used by the
glove-makers for the manufacture of a certain grade of gloves. We also
saw large cases of the skins securely packed and addressed to merchants
in Vienna and Berlin. Thousands of bales of rabbit-skins are annually
exported; indeed, so extensive is this trade that there is a large
commercial room established in Dunedin called the Rabbit-Skin Exchange,
where the article is bought and sold in enormous quantities. Thirty-five
miles inland from this city, the author has seen by moonlight a whole
sloping hillside which seemed to be moving, so completely was it covered
by these little furry quadrupeds. They are poisoned, shot, trapped, and
killed with clubs, but still so rapidly do they breed that there is no
visible diminution of their numbers.
From Dunedin to Christchurch by sea is about two hundred miles, or the
trip may be made by sail via Oamaru and Timaree. The harbor of
Littleton, which stands in the same relation to Christchurch as Port
Chalmers does to Dunedin, is a thoroughly sheltered deep bay, surrounded
by a range of hills on three sides,--hills of cliff-like character
rising abruptly out of the sea. Beyond those are higher elevations,
their tops covered with snow, which the sun tinged with silvery hues as
we sailed up the channel on a bright July morning. The surroundings are
delightfully picturesque, the entrance to the harbor being as narrow as
the harbor of Havana. It is formed by two breakwaters extending from
opposite sides toward each other, each of which is over a thousand feet
in length. Two huge dredging-machines were seen busily at work deepening
the channel, so that vessels drawing not over twenty-two feet of water
can lie at the wharves and discharge cargo. The spirit of commercial
enterprise was very manifest here.
It was as late as the year 1850 that the first settlement was made at
Christchurch, when a considerable company of immigrants, since called
the "Canterbury Pilgrims," came from Liverpool intending to form a
community devoted to the Church of England. This design however was only
partially carried out, though Christchurch is the chief seat of the
Church of England in New Zealand, and has a magnificent cathedral
testifying to the design of the original founders. It is said that the
first people who arrived freely expressed their disappointment when they
climbed the hills of Littleton and looked off upon the Canterbury
Plains, with scarce a tree or shrub upon them, and not even a hillock to
break the dull monotony of the brown tussock and low clumps of wild
flax. A little over thirty years have since passed, and how different is
the view to-day! Those lonely, dreary plains are now covered with
thrifty farms, divided by broad fields of grain and well-fenced
orchards, dotted here and there with pleasant homesteads surrounded by
ornamental trees and blooming gardens, while as the centre and motive of
it all there lies in the foreground, close at hand, Christchurch, the
cheerful and populous City of the Plains. The lonely aspect of thirty
years ago has given place to one instinct with busy life and modern
civilization.
Littleton with its four thousand inhabitants is a most active and
intensely busy seaport. We were not prepared to find so much shipping
lying at its wharves. The long piers which are built out from the shore
are lined with foreign and coasting steamers, and are also laid with
iron rails connecting with the railroad which runs into the interior.
Thus freight is brought in the cars alongside of the shipping, and it
requires only a hoisting apparatus to fill rapidly with freight the hold
of the largest vessel. The export of New Zealand produce from Littleton
in 1886 reached the aggregate of nearly two million pounds sterling, and
the revenue collected during the same year was two hundred thousand
pounds sterling. The harbor is overlooked by a castellated signal-tower,
situated upon a lofty cliff; and the town itself is terraced over the
hillsides after the usual style of the colonies. Nothing could be more
striking to the eye upon entering the harbor from the sea than these
cliff residences.
Littleton is connected with Christchurch by a railroad, the tunnel for
which is cut directly through the surrounding range of hills, which are
almost worthy of the name of mountains. The tunnel is considerably over
a mile in length. When this means of surmounting the great impediment
presented by the hills was first suggested, it met with serious
opposition, as being far too expensive an enterprise for so young a
colony to undertake. So it was for a while given up; but as the colony
grew in numbers, and produce for shipment poured into Christchurch, the
necessity of the railroad was more and more fully realized. Without it,
all exports by the way of the port of Littleton must be hauled by animal
power over the hills at great expense. Finally the road was authorized;
and once being determined upon, it was quickly built, at a cost of over
one million dollars.
Having penetrated the range of hills by means of this grand improvement,
one emerges into a broad level country, and passes through an
agricultural district which is under a high state of cultivation,
beautified here and there by pleasant rural residences, gardens, and
wooded reaches. The land is divided into convenient lots and separated
by tall hedges of gorse, blooming in all its gaudy yellow splendor, and
impregnating the atmosphere with a sweetness which belied the season,
seeming rather to belong to the balmy days of early spring. Eight miles
of rail brings us to the outlying portions of Christchurch.
This metropolis of the Canterbury Plains is located upon ground as level
as a chessboard, its broad streets intersecting one another with almost
painful regularity and precision, but lined with fine substantial stone
buildings, and rendered attractive by many shops displaying a great
variety of goods. These avenues are full of busy life; horse-railroads,
freight-wagons, coaches, and cabs are constantly passing before the
eyes. The day of our arrival chanced to be that of the monthly races,
and all the world of Christchurch and its environs had turned out to
enjoy a holiday. Some of the shops were closed at noon, that all might
participate in this gala occasion. Four-horse teams, with long ranges of
extra seats rigged for the purpose, started from the public square laden
with male passengers, the vehicles bearing great placards reading, "To
the Races for one shilling." One might have imagined oneself in New
York or London, so rushing was the tide of life through Cashel Street
and Cathedral Square.
The Public Garden of Christchurch is situated in a bend of the river
Avon, on the western side of the city, about five minutes' walk from the
business centre of the town. It occupies some eight or ten acres of land
laid out in tasteful style. That portion which adjoins the river is
lined with a beautiful border of weeping willows. A system is adopted in
arranging the plants whereby all of a hardy nature are placed by
themselves, the tropical vegetation being arranged together in the same
manner; the plants indigenous to Japan, China, India, Australia, and
Great Britain form each a group by themselves. This is called the
geographical order, and has some advantages; but in adhering to such an
arbitrary rule of adjustment, picturesqueness of effect must often be
sacrificed. This whole collection of plants is of considerable beauty
and scientific interest, though the garden is yet in its infancy, being
less than twenty years old; but it is yearly undergoing much
improvement.
A city built upon a perfect level is very rarely seen either in
Australia or New Zealand, though there are exceptions, as in the case of
Adelaide. Such a site is by no means so pleasant to the eye, albeit
there are many practical advantages gained thereby. One feels shut up as
it were in these long level reaches; the abrupt hills of Sydney,
Dunedin, or San Francisco are preferable, even if often inconvenient.
Nevertheless Christchurch is a pleasing, prosperous, and rapidly
growing city, with much architectural beauty in its thoroughfares. As
the commercial outlet of a broad-spread, fertile, and easily accessible
district, it must continue to prosper commercially. Saturday is an
especially attractive day here, when the country people--both men and
women--from considerable distances come to town to dispose of their
produce in the open market. The variety and excellence of meats,
vegetables, fruits, and flowers accumulated here on such occasions is
worthy of any large capital city. There is a conglomerate of humanity
drawn together on this busy day of the week, which turns the streets and
squares into a sort of out-door fair. We observed none of that abandon
and careless dissipation which characterizes Melbourne on Saturdays; and
yet Christchurch does not lack for an ample class who make
pleasure-seeking a regular occupation.
At the Museum in this city a most interesting and perfect skeleton of
that great prehistoric bird the Moa was seen,--a bird which was
indigenous in New Zealand, and which is believed to have been extinct
for about two thousand years, probably disappearing before any human
beings came to these islands. The Maori Indians can be traced back but
six or seven hundred years, and only very imperfectly during that
period. They are believed to have come from the islands lying in the
more northerly Pacific, presumably from the Sandwich or Hawaiian group.
Even the traditions of these natives fail to give us any account of
this gigantic bird while living; but its bones are found in various
sections of the country, principally in caves, and from these we must
"gather and surmise." What is left of the Moa to-day is quite sufficient
to form the greatest ornithological wonder in the world. The head of
this reconstructed skeleton in the Museum of Christchurch stands sixteen
feet from the ground, and its various proportions are all of a character
to harmonize with its remarkable height. This skeleton shows the
marvellous bird to have been, when standing upright, six feet taller
than the average full-grown camelopard. It belonged to the Titans who
dwelt upon the earth perhaps twenty or thirty thousand years ago, in the
period of the Mastodon and the Dodo. What Niagara is to ordinary
waterfalls, the Moa was to all the bird-tribe. It was a long time before
incredulous scientists could be induced to admit these interesting
facts, but the tangible evidence now existing in the Museum of this New
Zealand city is indisputable. This Museum owes its great excellence and
admirable scientific arrangement to Dr. Von Haast, the famous geologist
and early explorer of New Zealand, and forms a worthy monument to his
great fame in the world of science.
Some writers who have made a study of the subject are inclined to
believe that the Moa was still existing when the first of the Maoris
arrived in New Zealand; but this is only a supposition. It is an open
question, indeed, whether the Maoris were or were not the first human
beings to tread the soil of these islands. There is sufficient evidence
relating to this subject to whet the appetite of conjecture, but not to
satisfy it. In the Takiroa caves of the South Island in the Waitaki
Valley, and in a sheltered rocky glen or half cave near Canterbury,
there are certain crude rock-paintings which are a puzzle to savants.
These consist of figures representing men, birds, beasts, fishes,
snakes, altars, and weapons, crude indeed as to design, but
recognizable. The Maoris know nothing of their origin, and in the
present light of the history of that race there is nothing which leads
to the belief of these rock-paintings being of Maori production; in fact
there seems to be sufficient evidence to prove their greater antiquity.
The present natives have never been rock-painters, not possessing for
this the requisite skill, though they have always been carvers in wood
after a rude fashion. There seems to be some consecutive meaning in
these rock illustrations, though what is designed to be indicated cannot
be made out by careful and experienced men who have come hither from
Europe solely to examine them. They are indelibly painted in red and
black on the face of the rock, which is composed of calcareous
sandstone. Close examination of the various figures shows that they are
underlaid by others, which have either worn away under atmospheric
influences, or have been partially obliterated by hand to make place for
those which now are prominently visible. Writing in hieroglyphics is not
the accomplishment of savages, but argues at least a semi-civilized
condition. So do the colossal statues of Easter Island (South Pacific),
which were never created by any such race of people as the present
savage inhabitants; and yet these tribes have no traditions even of any
previous residents of their island. It is the world to them, or rather
was until Europeans first visited the place.
The population of Christchurch is from thirty-five to forty thousand.
The plain upon which the city stands extends upon the same level for a
distance of fifty miles inland, forming one of the best agricultural
divisions in New Zealand, which is called the Canterbury District.
Statistics show this immediate region to have produced in 1886 nearly
seven million bushels of wheat, over four million bushels of oats,
besides barley and potatoes in very large quantities. There are over
three hundred miles of railroad in the District upon which to bring this
grain and produce to market, a large percentage of which is shipped to
Europe. We were informed that the number of sheep in this District would
considerably exceed four millions, and that the annual shipment of wool
was very large. The immediate environs of the city are dotted with
cornfields and dairy farms, whose products find a ready home demand.
Christchurch is famous for its annual agricultural fairs and pastoral
exhibitions, which attract annually twenty-five thousand strangers to
the town.
A horseback ride of a few hours from this city into the "bush" reveals a
wealth of wooded richness almost indescribable. The trees, mostly of
the pine family, yet totally different from the trees to which we give
that name, were gracefully draped with luxuriant creepers, mingled with
which were glowing red blossoms. Tall fern-trees and flowering aloes
shared our admiration with variegated orchids, blending color and form
in lovely combinations. In the low grounds the deep-green leaves of the
wild flax stood forth with their tall, honey-laden flowers nodding in
the breeze and tempting the bees to their embrace. The glowing afternoon
sunlight was mottled with busy-winged insect life. The lowly ferns
spread in most inimitable patterns a verdant carpet beneath our feet,
such as no cunning of the loom could equal. It is well worth a
pilgrimage from far-away lands to make the acquaintance, solitary and
alone, of the primeval New Zealand forests, where there are no reptiles
to dread and no wild animals to encounter. Only Nature, old but
unchanged,--Nature, still and grand,--is here to be seen, presenting
features which teach us in eloquent language of our own littleness and
her immeasurable grandeur.
The beauty of the New Zealand forest will not soon be forgotten.
Reclining upon the verdure-spread earth, and watching the far-reaching
shadows, one is lulled into a dreamy mood by the mysterious whispers of
the foliage, the influence of the soft resinous atmosphere, and the low
drone of insects. The leaves seem to tremble and vibrate like the
strings of an Eolian harp. Is it because the brain is over-stimulated
by acute sensitiveness that tears--absurd tears--dim the eyes while one
is surrounded by this delicious solitude? All Nature seems to be in
harmony with one's feelings in this paradise of paroquets and
love-birds, this Eden of the Southern Seas, this climate of eternal
spring. We have somewhere read of the paucity of song-birds in the
regions of Australasia, but let us hasten to correct such an impression.
The notes that are trilled over one's head in these umbrageous solitudes
constitute a bird-opera worthy of the great southlands overhung by the
Southern Cross.