CHAPTER VIII.

COACHING THROUGH THE NORTH ISLAND OF NEW ZEALAND; ITS HOT LAKES AND

GEYSERS.

_Sunday, September 21st. Auckland._---The day following our landing was a

clear, spring morning, for summer is coming to these parts of the world,

and we were completely charmed by the view of Auckland from the top of

Princes Street, where we were staying. The harbour still and blue lay

before us, looking like an inland lake from the law, flat hills that run

out into the sea and nearly surround it. It is dotted with islands, the

chief of which is Kawau, Sir George Grey's island home, and Rangitoto,

with its three volcanic cone-like peaks. From the hill on which we were

standing there was one mass of foliage stretching down to the edge of the

harbour, and the houses seemed to have been put down promiscuously in

the midst, forming white dots from among the surrounding green. The town

and wharves lay hidden under the long, sloping hill, on the shoulder of

which stands the fine stone building of the Northern Club, with its broad

terraces, commanding the view seawards. A little higher up, nearly at the

top of Princes Street, is Government House, only tenanted for a few weeks

in summer since the removal of the capital.

The houses at Auckland are so pretty--all built of wood, all low, and two

storeyed, with double verandahs on each floor and not straight verandahs,

upheld at regular intervals by white posts, but gracefully arched, and

carved with fretwork. The wooden fences to the gardens and the houses are

painted a dead white, which stands out in dazzling brightness from the

dark foliage.

There seems to be some curious anomaly, some contending element in the

vegetation of New Zealand. We saw semi-hardy and semi-tropical plants

growing side by side, a Scotch fir by a palm, an india-rubber-tree by a

laurel; but the tropical in the end predominates. There were geraniums

in the hedges, camellias and azaleas blooming in the open air, orange and

lemon trees, and clumps of arum or Egyptian lilies growing wild in cool

and shady places. The principal trees are the eucalypti and the Norfolk

Island pine, which grows nowhere better than at Auckland. It branches

straightly out, with a succession of hard, prickly fingers inclining

upward towards the ends, and is of a rich dark green.

The editor of the _New Zealand Herald_, a very ably conducted paper,

found us out on our return from church, and interviewed C. In the

afternoon we drove out to Remuera, one of the pretty suburbs of which

Auckland has so many. Passing through the Khyber Pass, a road dug

out in the rock, we came through Newmarket, its bit of untidy common

giving one a sarcastic reminder of the Newmarket of the world, on to

the Remuera road. From here we could see the surrounding country, flat

and cultivated, with a few low hills looking peculiarly English, the

race-course of Ellerslie, where spring and autumn race meetings are held,

and the harbour, for wherever you go in Auckland you always have a view

of that. We had a warm welcome at the pretty cottage of an uncle of my

husband's, Mr. William Young, a fine old gentleman, who has been more

than forty years in the colony. He had not known of our arrival, and was

quite overcome with joy at seeing us for the first time.

Whilst I was sitting writing in the evening, I suddenly heard all the

watch-bells of the city ringing a fire alarm, and going out on to the

upper verandah, saw the lurid flames of a fire down in the town. By the

vivid illumination I could distinguish the upturned faces of the crowd,

and for ten minutes it burnt fiercely, reducing the little wooden house,

which was fortunately detached, to a few charred beams. Fires are of

frequent occurrence, and are terribly serious among this town of wooden

tenements. They have alarm bells erected in wooden penthouses in the most

crowded parts of the town, and the fire brigade is kept in a full state

of efficiency.

_Monday, September 22nd._--We drove ten miles out to Sylvia Park, a great

stud farm belonging to the New Zealand Stock and Pedigree Company, and

managed by Major Walmsley. The road lay through a very wild, desolate

country, roughly enclosed by stone walls loosely put together from the

mass of scoria and volcanic rocks, which literally strewed the ground for

miles. It is supposed to be the _débris_ thrown up from the craters of

the volcanoes, and the short, sweet grass, so peculiarly fitted for the

feeding of sheep, crops up between. These extinct volcanoes, with their

round, flat tops, of which there are no less than thirty-nine in the

immediate vicinity of Auckland, form a distinctive feature of the country.

When we arrived at our destination we found a square wooden house,

surrounded by spacious paddocks with splendid pasture. I was strongly

reminded of the Downs, looking round at the many miles of rolling green

hills, and by the utter stillness and loneliness.

There are in all some 150 horses, not including the constant additions

to the stock like the half-a-dozen foals we saw, just a fortnight old,

turned out into a paddock with their mothers. The horses are chiefly

thoroughbred, and they have some blood relations to celebrated winners of

the turf. At their annual sale last year at Melbourne they realized an

average price of 300_l._ We saw their celebrated mare Sylvia, twenty-one

years old, from whom the farm is named, and whose offspring are numerous

and well known in racing annals; as are those also of Martini-Henry,

the winner of both the Derby and Melbourne Cup, who here saw the light.

Major Walmsley mentioned to us one amusing peculiarity. It has always

been noticed that, on the introduction of new blood from England, the

colonials separate themselves from the new-comers, and keep to the other

side of the paddock.

Rain came on, and we said good-bye to our kind host, and drove home

through a heavy downpour.

_Tuesday, September 23rd._--We are charmed by the kindness of all at

Auckland, their open hospitality and cordial welcome. We are overwhelmed

with invitations, and are only sorry that the shortness of our stay

obliges us to refuse many. Consul Griffin (who had been on board the

_Australia_ with us) brought me in last night three lovely bunches of

flowers; one was made entirely of native flowers, and all were sent

with pressing invitations to come and see the place where they grew.

Messengers with invitations are arriving all day, walking in at the

open door, for all the doors in New Zealand stand wide open, and you

never think of knocking. To-day we have had luncheon at the Hon. James

Williamson's, at "The Pah," the Maori name for house. The garden is

considered one of the best about Auckland, and is very beautiful with its

large camellia-trees, double, single, striped and plain, white or red,

azaleas of all colours, double geraniums, roses, violets, heliotrope,

fuchsias, and daphne, large aloes, and cacti, maidenhair fern, and heath,

growing wild in brilliant purple-pink clumps. There is an orange and

lemon grove, guava-trees, and the silver fir, a native of New Zealand.

This very pretty tree has a long, pointed, silver leaf, with a bright,

velvety cone, and produces from a distance the effect of a tree of

shimmering silver. The orchard was in full blossom, as with us in May; it

is so difficult to realize that this September, our autumn month, is the

beginning of their spring.

In New Zealand, with their temperate climate, they have flowers all the

year round. During the winter there is little or no snow, but much rain;

and though there are never any great extremes of either heat or cold,

some find the damp heat of the summer very enervating.

We afterwards went to tea at Mr. Firth's, the "Castle." The garden there

is terraced into the side of the hill, which must have been one of the

extinct volcanoes, as the soil is entirely scoria. We saw a picture of

the present Maori king, Tawhiao, now in England, and another, a very

remarkable portrait of the great King-maker, who, twenty-five years ago,

gave over to Mr. Firth 60,000 acres of land, in fee simple, whereof to

form a beautiful estate.

_Wednesday, September 24th._--We spent the morning in the town. Queen

Street, with a few arterial streets, forms the town, and contains all

the shops, the theatre, and the six thriving banks. It looked busy and

prosperous, with the streets full of men on rough ponies, going at a

hand gallop; for in New Zealand they seem to have no medium between

galloping and walking, and they generally choose the latter. There are a

few tramway lines, but they have not yet superseded the lumbering yellow

omnibus, lined with red moreen, that ply between the suburbs and the town.

Auckland is the northern capital of New Zealand, as Dunedin is of the

south. It received a severe check when the seat of government was removed

to Wellington, but it is recovering from this, and spreading rapidly into

its several suburbs of Parnell, Remuera, Newton, Newmarket, and Khyber

Pass.

It is roughly estimated that each emigrant ship, arriving every

fortnight, brings to Auckland 300 emigrants, who create a demand for

sixty new houses. Another proof of the rising prosperity may be given

from the Savings' Bank deposits, which average 1000_l_. a week.

The necessaries of life are extraordinarily cheap; for instance, meat is

from threepence to fourpence per pound; all woollen goods and ordinary

wearing apparel are the same; but anything not strictly within this

province is proportionately dear.

There are the most delicious oysters at Auckland, as small and delicately

flavoured as "natives," and they are to be had for the trouble of picking

them off the rocks in the harbour.

A "baby show" had been largely advertised to take place in the afternoon

in the theatre, and we determined to go to it. There were prizes given

for the handsomest baby, the best all-round baby, for the finest twins,

and the lightest and heaviest baby, for curliest-haired, and prettiest

dark-eyed, and lastly, for the plainest, and reddest-haired baby.

Afterwards we drove to the bottom of Mount Eden, and walked up the grass

drive to the top, looking down into the huge crater, which is now a

green and sheltered hollow, where cattle feed. We had a very sweeping

view, though a little hazy, over the two harbours--ours of the east

coast, and Manakau on the west. There was water wherever we looked, with

long, streaky lines showing the "barriers," or swampy bits of plain or

sandbanks. At our feet, on one side, was Auckland, stretched out in

dotted white lines; on the other, there were houses and gardens, nestling

under the shelter of Mount Eden, forming the far-extending district known

by that name, with rich flats of cultivated fields, interrupted only by

the mounds of the volcanoes.

In returning we walked through the "Domain," a pretty wood of native

trees, with bridle paths, and then went home to prepare for our rough

expedition to the Hot Lake district, to begin on the morrow.

We have been very much struck how all out here cling to England, looking

upon and calling her "home," always hoping to return some day to the old

country, if only for a short visit. It is quite the usual question to

ask, "And how long is it since you were in England?" and the answer often

is, "Twenty years ago, but we hope to go there again soon." All have near

relations there, and it is considered a great thing to be able to send

the children home to be educated.

We find everywhere the same keen longing and anxiety that England should

know and realize how prosperous, how civilized, how replete in comfort

and luxury, her colonies are. They complain that justice is not done

them, and express a wish that some of the prominent men in the old

country would come out and visit them, and see it for themselves. One

lady said to me, "I believe they think at home that we are living in the

midst of cannibals, and certainly in a state of rude civilization and

semi-barbarism." Another said, when we were expressing our appreciation

of all the kindness we were receiving, "We are very homely folks out

here; but only too glad to give any one from the old country a hearty

welcome."

Even those who are rich keep up quite simple establishments, servants

being a very difficult luxury, hard to obtain, still harder to keep

beyond a few months, and commanding exorbitant wages. As a natural

consequence of this, all the daughters are brought up to do the lighter

parts of the house work. I think colonial mothers are the best in the

world. The only nurses to be had are rough colonial girls, and so mothers

are accustomed to have their children always with them from infancy.

These two circumstances combine to make the girls, what they generally

are, frank and open in their manners, very independent in character, and

old for their age.

The telephone is in general and more frequent use here than in England.

The postal rate of 2_d._ is uniform throughout the colonies, but the

most perfect system is that in the telegraphic department of "delayed

telegrams." This is an arrangement whereby by paying only 6_d._ you can

have a telegram sent in the course of the day and delivered from the

receiving office by post, the ordinary telegram having the preference.[1]

We were so sorry to be leaving Auckland without seeing a Kauri pine

forest. These Kauri pines are _only_ found north of Auckland, and the

nearest forest is some fifteen miles away. They grow to a great height,

and are chiefly valuable for the purity of the gum, which exudes in great

quantities from the bark, and is highly prized for mixing with varnish

and for tanning purposes. It formed at one time the most valuable of New

Zealand exports. Large lumps of this exquisite clear golden substance are

dug up from the ground, under the pines, containing a clear cloud-like

substance, that fades after exposure to the air. We brought away with us

several pieces, some in the rough and others polished.

_Friday, September 25th._--We were down at the station by 8 a.m.,

and joined there by Mr. Davidson, our fellow-passenger on board the

_Australia_; Mr. Robert Graham also came with us, the proprietor of

Wairakei, and of Waiwera, the pretty little watering-place, with hot

springs, twenty miles away from Auckland, which we had not found time to

visit.

There was quite a feeling of adventure in starting out on this expedition

to the Hot Lakes. Scarcely any one from Auckland has been; on the

principle, I suppose, that those nearest the place of interest never do

go, though people may think it worth while coming all the way out from

England to see it. Many tried to dissuade us, by alarming accounts of the

roads after the winter rains, and the roughness and fatigue of coaching

from early morning till late at night; and at one time I had wavered.

We were experiencing one of the New Zealand railways for the first time,

and could not say much for the smoothness of the locomotion. The train

moves on with a terrific jerk after each stoppage; till, at last, you

come to look for it. This carriage was very long, with a passage down

the centre, and differed from the American cars only in having seats

lengthways, instead of crosswise, thus producing the effect of the inside

of an omnibus. Afterwards we found that many of them were like the

American cars. The trains are very, very slow, only going from fifteen to

twenty miles an hour; the gauge is narrow, and the line single.

After passing through the suburbs we emerged out into an open country,

bounded on either side by low hills, and almost entirely covered by

manuka, or ti-tree scrub, producing the dark rich brown colour of a

moor. One-third of the north island is covered with this manuka; it

flourishes on all the uncultivated sandy soil, and is the most monotonous

of shrubs to look at, with its spiky black twigs, and sparse feathery

green. It is only pretty when in bloom, and covered with myriads of white

starry flowers; but we were too early to see this. I grew very weary of

the miles and miles we passed through of it during the next few days.

Here and there, in sheltered hollows, were bits of native bush, with

the characteristic grey stem shooting branchless to a great height, and

ending in a clump of green at the top. Many of them had bunches of gigi,

which looked like mistletoe, growing on the stems. Underneath these there

would be a thick undergrowth of cabbage-palms and tree-ferns.

At the small station where we stopped to have luncheon we were offered

whitebait! but it turned out to be only some minnows, caught in the

neighbouring stream, and served in a very pulpy condition.

We were soon following a range of hills, worthy to be dignified with the

name of mountains, and the broad river of the Waikato was flowing to our

right. The Waikato became quite an old friend at last. We followed it in

so many of its windings, leaving it to find it again, after a few days,

grown and increased in volume, and flowing ever more swiftly towards

the sea. We passed some marshy belts of land, opening out into broad

pools, bordered by bulrushes, with plenty of wild ducks and prairie-hens

skimming about on them. Then Rangiriri came in sight, with its green

knoll and flagstaff marking the spot where the natives, in 1864, held

at bay and shelled the English troops, under Colonel Campbell, in the

swamp below. For many years the Maoris defied the British from their

strongholds in the bush, the war on the English side being, it is said,

much mismanaged. The struggle raged most fiercely at Taranaki, breaking

out again there after the other parts of the island were subdued. At

the end of the war, government took possession of all the land, and the

Maoris retreated into the district known as the King Country. They have

now collected enough money, and sent their King, Tawhiao, to England,

with the hopeless task of submitting their grievance to the Colonial

Office. His mission will, of course, be useless, and he will return as

empty-handed as he went.

We arrived at Hamilton at 3 p.m. By courtesy it is called a town, but

it consists of one short street, with the hotel facing the bank, above

which is the office of the local paper. The ancient yellow coach in

which it was proposed we should drive the twelve miles to Cambridge was

overcrowded, so we took a waggonette, and were driven by Mr. Johnstone,

the coach proprietor on this road, who handled his quadruple ribbons in

the most masterly manner.

[Illustration: Maori Chieftain.]

I can see now the road winding through that little pass, the hills on

either side covered with gorse and bracken; the running mountain stream

by the side of the road, crossed by a wooden hedge, and bordered by

whispering willows. Through a gap in the distant mountains came a rush of

yellow light, leaving them themselves in gloom.

We emerged into the great flat plains which are considered so good for

agricultural purposes. All the land is let out to leaseholders in small

lots of from 100 to 150 acres; though, if the matter came to be examined

into, it is thought that nearly the whole of this and many other tracts

of land would be found to belong to the Bank of New Zealand, being

heavily mortgaged to it at the rate of eight per cent. This is the usual

rate of interest here. Fir-trees were planted along the sides of the

fields as a shelter for the cattle against the wind. A farmer requires

about 5000_l._ capital to make a successful start, and must be prepared

to unlearn all English ideas of farming, and learn those adapted to the

soil and climate, unless he wants "to run a mucker," as the phrase goes.

Two hours brought us to Cambridge, where we found a clean little inn. The

town was full of Maoris, gathered from far and near, to attend one of

the Land Courts, which are held from time to time to arrange differences

about landmarks, and to effect the sale of lands. The natives were lying

about the street, wrapped in their striped blankets, or in plaids and

tartans of bright colours, which covered them from head to foot. The

women are generally seen in a crouching attitude, squatting on their

heels, and their lips and chins are tattooed in patterns; some of the men

are likewise decorated in rings all over the face, and wear a long piece

of greenstone depending from the ear by a string of black ribbon.

We had a strange example of "how small the world is" this evening; when a

schoolfellow of C.'s, not seen since the old days at Westminster, turned

up at Cambridge. He emigrated at the time of the gold fever in the Thames

river (not far from here), and has been for six years a member of the

Legislative Assembly,--is now a leading lawyer, a lumber merchant, and

the proprietor and editor of two newspapers.

_Saturday, September 27th._--We left Cambridge at seven this morning

in a downpour of rain, that seemed to prophesy a hopelessly wet day.

There was a preliminary difficulty about starting. The light buggy with

four horses, and a narrow seat back and front, proved too small to hold

ourselves and the very small quantity of luggage we had brought. We

looked blankly at the small space, to see if we could contrive to pack

in, and after some demur on the part of the driver, he promised to try

and horse another buggy for us. He had come over the road on the previous

day, and reported it to be in a terrible state, but how terrible it was

we had no idea till later in the day, or I doubt whether we should have

persevered.

Some miles of flat road, passing a pretty house belonging to Sir James

Fergusson, now governor of Bombay and formerly of New Zealand, and we

turned off the main road, into that leading to Ohinemutu. The difference

in the road was perceptible at once; the one belonged to the township,

and the other was under government management. It was of dark sticky

clay, not only full of ruts but of holes, and we soon began what was to

be our ordinary mode of proceeding, viz. "floundering."

The surrounding country was tame, with low hills and open spaces,

alternating with patches of dense manuka scrub, showing the natural

state of the land before clearing. Then we began to wind through passes

with wild Highland scenery. The colouring was a beautiful grey-green or

grey-brown, catching its tone from the decaying bracken; and this is

such feathery bracken and so peculiarly crisp and hard to the touch. The

Waikato could be heard rushing and gurgling over rocky impediments in its

course, but so deep down in the ravine, and between such high banks, that

we only got occasional glances of its swiftly running waters.

The most striking feature of the country here are the distinctly formed

terraces, running in tiers down to the present bed of the river, and

which is supposed to show the different levels of the Waikato during the

course of centuries.

All the land about belongs to various companies. The New Zealand Stock

Pedigree Company have a large tract for their farm, but they are not

succeeding well, as the farmers, struggling under the disadvantages of

the first breaking of the ground, cannot afford to study the breed of

their stock. By degrees we entered the country held by natives, where all

signs of cultivation and the abodes of man ceased. We occasionally met a

solitary horseman, a weird-looking figure in slouch hat and blanket--some

Maori going down to attend the Land Court at Cambridge.

It would be very difficult to give any adequate idea of the state of the

road. The four horses were up to their flanks in the liquid mud, and

the carriage sunk in axle-deep. To behold only is to believe in such a

case. Looking at the sea of soft mud in front, it seemed as if it would

be impassable. Kerr, our splendid Jehu, saved us many a bump by his

first-rate driving, drawing the horses carefully off, and easing them

at bad ruts; but as it was, the buggy often balanced on two wheels and

sank deeply down, the other two being high in the air, and the vehicle

hesitating whether to recover itself or not. There were not a few such

critical moments. Sometimes we got into such a slough that the pole of

the carriage touched the mud, and the horses, in trying to draw out their

fore feet from the slippery mass, would miss their footing, and flounder

hopelessly for a moment or two. Then Kerr would draw himself together,

and by main force drag them out with the reins.

We were obliged often to cling on to the front seat, to avoid being

thrown bodily out, and in one unexpected jolt, when we were both

impelled, _nolens volens_, suddenly forward, C. came down with his full

weight on my thumb, and sprained it slightly.

We were looking forward to arriving at the township of Oxford, for the

excitement and anxiety of this fearful road was tiring, and the going

very slow and tedious. From over a bare plain we approached the hotel;

not a single house was to be seen, and we found that this _was_ the

township. The railway that is being made is finished up to here, and an

enterprising man has built the hotel, foreseeing the custom that will

come, when it is opened next season, and forms the starting-point for the

coaches to the Lake district. The second buggy overtook us at Oxford, and

we found that they had fared much worse than we had. The spring of the

back seat had given way, and Mr. Graham had been precipitated into the

mud.

We coached on for another three hours, the horses so dead beat that it

was only by many exhortations to "get up," and the frequent use of the

whip, that we progressed at all.

We had one alarm when Kerr, after leaning over several times to listen,

got down to examine a back wheel. Awful thoughts of a screw becoming

loose in such a much-tried vehicle had been ever present with us all the

way. But it proved to be only some sand, which if left in the axle to

grate with each revolution would have set fire to the wheel. The wheel

had to be taken off and fresh grease applied.

Soon after this little incident torrents of rain came down, in which we

drove up to the door of a hut in the backwoods, kept by some Berkshire

people, and where we ate the luncheon we had brought.

For the next twelve miles we were driving through the bush, the damp

steaming up on all sides and showing the vegetation in all the glory of

its luxuriance, the leaves and moss shining with the dripping raindrops.

Nature was perspiring at every pore, and putting forth a new growth in

the moist heat.

At first we missed the familiar foliage of the oak, or elm, or beach, but

soon you grow accustomed to the grey skeleton trunks, branching off so

high in the stem of the native tree. There was the Karaka, a tree with

thick glossy foliage, and a red berry which the natives eat, the Puriri,

which is the hardest of New Zealand woods, the Katukatea, or white pine,

and the Totara. This tree has the bright olive-green foliage that imparts

so much vividness to the bush. It has a durable wood, which worms never

touch, and for that reason is much used for the piles of wharves. Then

there is the Rimu which, when the bark is stripped off, is found to be of

a blood red inside. It produced the beautiful effect we saw as we passed

along, when sections of these trees rotting on the ground, mingled their

crimson blood with the yellow mosses and lichen.

Again and again we remarked that great curiosity of the Rata, which is

found throughout both islands. The Rata begins like a creeper, hanging

down in tendrils from the branches, and joining together below them, to

form a stem about one-third of the size of the trunk. Growing gradually

downwards, it circles round, and closes in "_under_" the roots, gradually

eating into and sucking the life from the tree. It performs the part of

an ungrateful child, who kills the parent who gave it life. Along the

coast the same curious formation is found about the trees, but there it

is called Pohutukawa, and grows in exactly the opposite way, striking

from the roots upwards, and performing the same work of death, with its

fibrous arms. Sometimes this Pohutukawa is also called the Christmas

tree, from the bright red blossom that flowers at Christmas. They say

the effect of the bush at a distance, and when the trees are intertwined

by this scarlet mass of blossom, is very beautiful. The general idea is

that the Rata and Pohutukawa are produced by a species of caterpillar

about a foot long, but we found many of the islanders do not agree with

the theory. We brought one of these caterpillars home with us, and it is

still preserved in a tin case.

The giji, a small rush or coarse grass, growing in isolated clumps on the

trunks of the trees, forms another special feature of the bush. But the

chief is that wonderful tangled mass of tropical undergrowth, and the

tree ferns which grow in large clumps. Their fibrous black trunks attain

to a height of six feet, expanding at the top into feathery arms, long

and graceful in their sweeping curves. Nestling under their broad shadows

are every other species of fern; the beautiful crape fern, so called from

the crisp double texture of the fronds, the Hiane or creeping Lycopodium,

the Kioko or Polypodium, the Panaka or Asplenium, and the Mangemange or

creeping fern. Then there are all kinds of parasites, like the Tararamoa

or climbing bramble; the latter has a red or yellow berry, and a prickly

bristling leaf, which has given to it the name of the lawyer's plant, or

bush lawyer; there is the Kareao, a climbing wiry vine, the "Supple Jack"

of the Colonists, the Kiekie, Kohia, and Pikiarero or clematis; and the

Hinau which blossoms with a white flower, and has an astringent pulp, the

bark furnishing a black dye to the natives. Beneath all there is a carpet

of bright green moss, three inches thick.

It is very difficult to give any adequate idea of the extraordinary

luxuriance of these bush forests; I could hardly have believed before

what wonderful shades of colouring could be contained in a single tangle

of green. There is something about the bush which prevents your saying

it is tropical, partly on account of the trees which look sparse and

hardy, partly on account of the damp climate, but it is, nevertheless, as

beautiful as any tropical jungle.

We were very much struck by the oppressive silence and the absence of all

bird life. We heard the whirr of two wood pigeons, and the twitter of a

tui once or twice.

It was getting dusk as we emerged from the bush, and quite dark before we

saw the black waters of Lake Rotorua. Clouds of steam and vapour rising

from the hot sulphur and mineral springs, told us the whereabouts of

Ohinemutu.

I confess that the last part of the drive Nature had been asserting

herself, and I was too tired, hungry, and sore from the jolting to feel

interest in anything but an arrival at the Lake House.

We found the coach and party from Tauranga (the other route to the Hot

Lakes) had just arrived there, and on comparing notes, we saw that our

road had been infinitely worse, but that we had been saved from a tossing

last night on the sea, in a miserable little steamer. We had coached

fifty miles during that day.

Ohinemutu is in the centre of the Hot Lake district; it lies on the

shores of Lake Rotorua, a sheet of water twenty-seven miles broad. Mr.

Robert Graham has built his hotel, the Lake House, in the midst of a

Maori settlement, surrounded by sulphur fumes. In the garden he has

enclosed several hot springs, to form medicinal baths; but Sulphur

Point, the site of the Government sanatorium, and the proposed township

of Rotorua, contains the greatest wonders. Here is Te Kanhangi, "The

Painkiller," a bath of dark-coloured water; the "Priest's Bath," Oawhata,

a clear pool of bubbling hot water, and Madame Rachel's bath. In all of

these the water is at boiling point. They possess the most wonderful

curative properties for those suffering from rheumatism, sciatica,

lumbago, spinal disorders, cutaneous diseases, &c. Analysis shows the

water to contain chloride of sodium, potassium and lithium, sulphate of

soda, silicate of soda, lime and magnesia, iron and alumina oxides, and

sulphuric acid.

The stories told of the wonderful cures effected are endless; and as they

become more generally known there can be no doubt that Ohinemutu will

become the great health resort from neighbouring countries, and indeed

from Europe.

Near Sulphur Point are the Cream Cups, the Sulphur Cups, the Coffee Pot,

and the Fumaroles, pools of white, boiling mud, impregnated with sulphur

and arsenic. In cold weather the natives will sit for hours up to their

chins, in these hot mud-holes, for the sake of the warmth; and winter

and summer they are always bathing in the warm water of the bay in Lake

Rotorua.

Tired as we were, we went out in the evening to see the Maori Temple in

the settlement. It is of weather-board, with a corrugated iron roof;

but inside it contains the most grotesque and hideous monstrosities.

The Maori idea of religion takes the form of a carved wooden ancestor,

stunted and deformed, with the eyes of mutton-fish shell starting out of

the head. They stand in rows round the temple. The beams of the ceiling

and the carved pillar in the centre of the temple are painted in ochre

and hematite, producing a gaudy and startling effect. We looked into

one or two of the native "wharries" or huts, as we came home. They are

miserable hovels built on the ground, with the uncovered earth as a

floor. A litter of grass or rushes forms the bed, and all have a wooden

bolster, with a place hollowed out for the neck to rest in.

I cannot say much for the comfort of Lake House, there is one long

passage down the centre, which is divided on either side into square

boxes about six feet by six; these have uncarpeted floors, and are most

primitively furnished.

_Sunday, September 28th._--It was a fine morning, and it had been

agreed overnight that in that case, we must for once overcome all

Sabbath-keeping scruples, get up at five in the morning, and leave in the

coach at six.

Driving by the shores of Rotorua, we were rewarded for our early start

by the beauty of the lights and shadows playing on the mountain sides,

reflected from the floating cloudlets above--by the first freshness of

the keen morning air, and by that subtle feeling that comes with an early

rise of being superior to one's neighbour. We had need to sustain these

sensations, during the course of the next few days, with their successive

early starts, varying from 5 to 7 a.m. Out in the middle of the lake we

saw the island of Mokoia, in connection with which is told the pretty

little Maori legend of Hinemoa. Charmed it is said by the notes of the

lute of Tutanekai, her lover, she fastened six empty gourds round her

back, and floated across from the mainland to Mokoia, hiding herself

in Hinemoa's bath, until a favourable opportunity presented itself of

appearing before Tutaneka.

When I say we were in the Highlands, I shall have described the first

five of the ten miles' drive to Wairoa. It ended with a bold mountain,

burnt black and bare, with a deep gully winding round its base, following

a pass through the mountains. We suddenly came out on an open moor, and

then plunged into the dense forest of the Tikitapu bush. It is a glorious

bit of bush, with the tree ferns growing to an enormous height. The road

is cut through its midst; and overhead the trees close in and form a cool

twilight. Through this avenue we caught our first glimpse of the blue

waters of Tikitere or the Blue Lake. It is only a sheet of very clear

blue water, lying in the hollow of the mountains, which are covered with

brown, feathery bracken, and yet we were all attracted and fascinated by

it. There was nothing grand or striking, but we said and thought it was

"lovely." The road runs round on a level with the lake, and we saw that

the mountains dwindle into a low hill, to a point where the road and the

lake meet.

This hill is all that divides the Blue Lake from Rotokakahi or the Green

Lake. It lies at a level of eighty feet lower than the Blue Lake, and it

was very strange, just at this spot, being able to compare the visible

descent between the blue water on the one hand and the green on the

other. Strange it is that the Green Lake does not in the least attract

the eye like its Blue sister.

As we came near the village of Wairoa, a smell of sweetbriar from the

hedges bordering the road on either side perfumed the air for nearly

a quarter of a mile. We passed the temple and some wharries, made of

rushes hung and plaited from a pole in the centre. The natives rushed

excitedly out of these and followed the carriage, clothed in their one

white garment, with striped blankets, blue, yellow, and red, thrown

loosely round them. By the time we drew up at the Terrace Hotel we were

the centre of a motley group of Maoris, chattering, gesticulating, and

"whining"--the Maori way of expressing pleasure; Mr. Graham had no

difficulty in picking out a fine, strong-looking crew to man our boat

across Lake Tarawera.

We ran down the steep winding path which led us to the rough boat-house

in the creek, on Lake Tarawera. Here there was a great delay, whilst the

crew, led by "Sophia," the native guide, were mustering, and it was then

discovered that our party was one too many for the licensed number of the

large flat-bottomed boat. This proved to be the beginning of our troubles

with a very fat old gentleman, with a broad Northumbrian dialect, who,

having joined himself on, uninvited, to our party, proved always the one

_de trop_. No one need feel sorry for him, or think he was neglected;

for he took good care of himself; was always to be found the first to be

seated in the boat, and in the best place; he helped himself freely to

the luncheon _we_ had bought, and required no pressure to take his full

share of the whisky bottle.

Once we were out on the lake, we were delighted with the grand rugged

beauty of the surrounding mountains. The three flat cones of the

Tarawera Mountains loomed in the distance, and somewhere hidden away in

that range, we were told, there was a curious natural bridge, sacred to

the Maoris for a burial place. About two years ago the water of Lake

Tarawera suddenly changed and became green and muddy, remaining so for a

year; it then returned to its natural state, being perfectly clear and

wholesome for drinking.

The natives rowed very slowly and unevenly, playing with their oars,

while they munched hunches of bread, and took deep draughts from the

lake for breakfast. The first breath of wind was the excuse for hoisting

a primitive sail, fastened by a string of green flax. A blue veil

attached to the hat of one of the natives gave rise to a laugh about

the Blue Riband movement, which they quite appreciated and joined in,

when translated to them by Mr. Graham. We were anxious to push on, and

should never have accomplished the ten miles row without Mr. Graham's

encouraging, "Go! go!" in Maori, and a bottle of rum, which he gave to

the chief to dole out. We turned into an arm of the lake running up

between the hills, and passing a Maori settlement in a damp hollow,

we saw before us a cloud of white steam rising from the midst of the

mountains, and we knew where it came from, and longed for our first sight

of those beautiful terraces of Rotomahana. They are unique in the world,

and comparable to no other wonder of Nature. They are one of her most

perfect works--perfect in conception, in form, and in colour.

After landing we almost ran the mile and a quarter, through the bracken

and manuka scrub, hurrying on to each knoll to have the first view,

and then disappointed, running down that one and on to the next. We

were heedless of the blue and purple mountains around, ungrateful for

what Nature in her ordinary course had provided, looking only for her

eccentricities.

At last we could see them, in their general outline, a silica formation

of white terraces in circular steps. We thought it disappointing;--but

not openly allowing so, we waded through the lukewarm water, about an

inch deep, and stood at the bottom of Te Tarata, or the White Terrace.

At the first step we came to, we were petrified with delight for a

moment.

Set in a basin of pure white silica, delicately carved and fretted, lay

a pool of pale blue water, so pure in colour, so opaque in substance.

I wish I could convey to the sight of those who read this, the merest

reflection of that heavenly colour, that pale tint found nowhere else

upon earth.

As we climbed upwards, we saw terrace upon terrace, with each circular

brim hanging with beautiful stalactites, and sponge and coral formation.

The sun shining through the lace-like fringe on the coral-tipped edges,

sent forth a hundred reflections, and we were dazzled by the snowy

whiteness of the silica. The water percolates and trickles gently over

the petrified drapery of each little cup and basin; each drop leaving

its tiny deposit of silica, which in the course of ages has formed the

Terrace.

We waded through the warm water, picking our way along the little edges

of the pools, lost in wonder at the delicate workmanship. The temperature

rose gradually, and we found it nearly boiling as we reached the crater

at the top. Again the pool was of that indescribable blue, more beautiful

when seen in such a large mass, but at the further end the cloud of

vapour and steam we had seen rising in the distance partially hid from

us a dark, angry mass of boiling water, that was heaving and surging

against the opposite crust of the crater. Te Tarata is not always active,

sometimes the crater is perfectly dry, as it had been the previous week

to our coming. We discovered here some ferns, and morsels of branches

petrified with silica, each leaf being perfectly encased, and preserved

with the glistening substance; but we found that they were too brittle

for transport, and had to leave them there in their beauty and to their

natural home.

We came down the Terrace, step by step, lingering and turning back at

every point to look under the overhanging lip, at some still more curious

formation of stalactite, some new beauty hidden away in a quiet corner.

Still wading through the water, we came down the left side of the

Terrace, and saw what I thought was almost the most beautiful part, a

succession of little cups, formed as regularly as the cells in a large

honeycomb, each containing its little pool of cerulean water. After

leaving the Terrace we went through a glen, in which the manuka scrub

grew high above our heads, and the carpet of bright green moss was hot to

touch. One of the charms of Rotomahana and its Terraces is the bright

luxuriant vegetation, in the midst of a tremendous volcanic action; where

you would expect to see lava scoria, you find a tropical growth of ferns

and parasites.

Climbing up to the top of a hill, we looked down into the crater of

"Ngahapu," a geyser which spouts up furiously every few minutes. We

gasped as we looked down into the black boiling water which ceaselessly

gathers itself into a swirling mass, and throws up a jet of water, and

then recoiling rushes on to the sides. We skirted round another, which

was still more active, and which we had to be careful to get to leeward

of, to avoid being sprinkled with boiling spray. Above, to a fissure in

the rock we traced the ceaseless throbbing noise of the "Steamer." It

sounds as if inside here the waterworks of the geyser were being pumped

up. The manuka all round was encrusted with orange from the sulphur

fumes, and the ground was inlaid with different bits of brilliant

colouring, in the red and green clay of mineral deposits.

We found luncheon spread out for us by two natives near the lake. It was

rather a "hot" corner to have chosen, for in front of us there was a

boiling mud-hole--and behind and all round bubbling pools of hot water,

with steam issuing from the ground. We sat on some rocks coloured pale

yellow from the action of sulphur and ate the most delicious baked

potatoes and kouras, the native shell fish, that had been cooked in a few

minutes by the easy process of holding them in nets in one of the hot

pools. I think we all thoroughly enjoyed that luncheon.

Then the gentlemen were taken across the lake in the canoe to have their

bath in the pool at the top, before the ladies arrived. We waited under

the care of "Sophia" for the return of the canoe.

Sophia was a most attractive half-caste Maori, speaking English very

prettily. Dressed in a red and black check skirt, with a blue jacket

bordered by red; her black wavy hair flowing loosely from under a

Tyrolese hat, she presented a most picturesque reminder of "Meg

Merrilees." Her lips, like those of all the Maori women, were tattooed;

but hers were only done in straight lines, as they had become too sore

to continue with the down strokes, which usually reach to the dimple of

the chin. She described to us the process of tattooing. Small holes are

tapped into the skin with a sharp-pointed instrument, and then filled

with the prepared juice of the Kauri gum, boiled down to a dark blue

substance. The mouth is fearfully sore for several days, causing even

death sometimes from gangrene and mortification, The girls always go down

to a town to have the operation carefully performed, and then make it a

ceremonious holiday.

Sophia wore a beautiful piece of greenstone called Tiki, roughly carved,

that had been, she said, in her family for 400 years; she also wore

suspended round her neck by a black ribbon a "Maori button," made of a

piece of circular bone, bored through the centre, and about the size of

a crown piece.

We saw the canoe returning across the lake, and dreaded the idea of

getting in. It was a native canoe formed out of the hollow trunk of a

totara-tree, and shaped at both ends. A rough wooden paddle was used by

the old Maori for working it along. We had to get in cautiously one by

one, and lie down in the bracken at the bottom, and when we were all

in, we were certainly not more than three inches from the water. Every

motion in this frail bark was felt; if any one moved hand or arm, there

was an exclamation of alarm, and when some one sneezed, we felt as if the

convulsive moment must capsize us. On the reeds in the middle of the lake

we saw many wild ducks, and the pretty Pukeko, with its dark blue plumage

and red bill. The steam rising as we approached the shore alone indicated

the marvellous wonder that greeted us as we suddenly rounded the sharp

corner that brought us into the cove where the water was boiling and

bubbling brightly--and the glories of the Pink Terrace were unfolded

before us.

The truth must be told, and our first view of them was somewhat marred by

the outline of figures that were creeping along the horizon after their

bath!

It is very beautiful. Terrace after terrace shelving down to the water's

edge; with the same delicate and curious formation, the same tender blue

in the pools, but not the same dazzling whiteness; for these are coloured

with a most delicate shade of pink, streaked in places with carmine. It

is caused by the water previously running over red clay, which, becoming

diluted, leaves a pink deposit of silica on the Terrace. I thought the

Pink Terrace or Otukapurangi Maori, quite as beautiful and more curious

than the white, but most people prefer the latter, and undoubtedly it

has the finest silica formation.

Where the water ran down in some little hollows, the sun shining over the

pink produced the effect of a shower of opals, and again in the little

pools, as the drops trickled over the brim of the basin, there were a

succession of minute rainbows, seen for an instant and gone as soon.

A dash of green-coloured clay lay along either side, before the dense

border of manuka scrub was reached, forming altogether a curious variety

of pale shades, in pink, blue and green.

We saw the place in the Centre Terrace where the Duke of Edinburgh had

carved his name. The natives have cut out the original, and inserted

instead a small tablet to show their appreciation of the honour, but

at the same time they thought that by thus writing his name, his Royal

Highness implied a possession of the Terraces. The lovely porcelain

surfaces of both terraces are disfigured by names scribbled in pencil

underneath the water. Government has now protected them by prohibiting

this, and laying a heavy penalty on all those who chip or carry away

fragments of the silica. The smell of sulphur here was as pregnantly

strong as in the White Terrace, but the water is only hot, and does not

boil. We felt we should never see the Terrace again, and lingered.

A tremendous shower of rain came on as we were packing again into the

canoes; it seemed heavy enough to have filled and swamped them. We

recrossed Rotomahana to the river, and then glided down the swift current

of "Kaiwaka," or canoe destroyer, so called because of its rapids and

sharp curves, so dangerous to the equilibrium of canoes. The natives

paddled us most skilfully from the stern, and we lay at full length

basking in the warm afternoon sun, and noting the embryo terraces that

have formed along its ti-covered banks. Some of the gentlemen of the

party ventured down the rapids. One canoe containing Mr. Graham and C.

was nearly lost--the stream carrying it down stern first, before the

native had time to get to his place to steer. He cried out to Mr. Graham,

"We are lost!" but amid intense excitement they did get through and land

in safety. We changed our shoes and stockings for the dry ones which we

had been warned to bring with us, for we had been walking for several

hours in warm water.

We had a nasty head wind, with a heavy sea running as we returned across

Lake Tarawera, but the natives worked well and sang us some native airs;

all joined in a chorus with gesticulations, led by Sophia. We had a very

damp drive home, rain falling in sheets; the beauty vanished which we had

admired so much that morning.

The fat gentleman whom I mentioned before was the subject of much

amusement to the Maoris. The native who acted as guide, looked at him as

he entered his bath and said, "If you had been here forty years ago, you

would have made a nice pie." It was translated to him, and we thought

that we had had our revenge.

It had seemed such a long day, and I went to bed worn out, and with my

brain bewildered with all the wonderful things I had seen.

_Monday, September 29th._--We were up at 5 a.m., and leaving Ohinemutu in

a buggy to coach fifty-four miles to Wairakei.

It was a very cold morning with a wind blowing from the direction of the

south pole. Passing Sulphur Point, we came to Whakarewarewa (pronounced

about like this, "walk her over, over"), whose sulphur fumes from the

numerous mud-holes we had seen rising in the distance yesterday. Then

we travelled for some time beside Waikorowhiti, the "Whistling Stream,"

a mountain torrent that rushes through the Hemo Gorge. A few more miles

brought us to Horo Horo. It is a high narrow ridge of rock, that sweeps

in one unbroken line from the coast of Coromandel Bay to the east of

Auckland, and ends suddenly here, standing out against the sky, as

one precipitous line of unbroken rock. A slender stately column which

distinctly presents the outline of a female figure is called by the

Maories "Hinemoa." The natives think Horo Horo has the appearance of

a mighty monster fallen from Heaven, and so call it Fallen Fallen. It

reminded us exactly of the Palisades on the Hudson River, U.S.A. We had

magnificent scenery all the way, ranges of mountains before and behind

us, that only varied in shape and beauty; all clothed with the dull green

or brown of the bracken fern. But the country was all so much alike,

that I felt if I had begun a sketch at the beginning of the journey, I

could have finished it almost as well at the end. The country was totally

uninhabited and uncultivated, save for a few scattered Maori settlements,

and these wharries were so like the coarse grass growing round them

that they were hardly to be distinguished from it. They generally lay

under the shelter of some hill, or on the outskirts of a bit of bush, and

would be roughly fenced round, with some pigs or a couple of rough horses

about, as the only sign of life. We saw but one white man's house, and

that was only building, during the whole day. Now and again we came upon

a herd of wild horses, who galloped away at the sound of our approach.

The skeleton head of an ox fixed upright on a hill producing a most weird

effect, and a gravestone by the roadside, marking the spot where some

traveller's favourite horse had lain down to die, were the only other

objects of interest we passed during the morning. There was a striking

peculiarity in the way in which the ground was terraced into deep winding

gullies, evidently showing the bed of some river, flowing in bygone ages.

The road was good-going all the way, except for a few "ruts," which

required all "Mac's" care to avoid, as they were deep enough to overturn

the carriage. When going over the edge of one of these we used all to

lean over, to throw our whole weight on to the opposite side of the

carriage, and watch anxiously to see whether the earth would hold or slip

away from under us. Mac, our new driver, was a French Canadian, whose

ancestors had come over with Jacques Cartier and settled in Montreal. We

had no change of horses for the whole of that fifty-four miles' drive,

and it was wonderful to see how skilfully he spared his horses, watering

them frequently from wayside streams. We kept ourselves from cramped

weariness, and saved the horses, by walking up the steepest hills. All

the wooden bridges about here are laid with planks _lengthways_ instead

of _crossways_, and if they are rotten, there is great danger of the

wheels going bodily through. Once this nearly happened to us, and we

escaped with a shave; and again when a horse put his foot into one of the

holes, and drew it out without breaking it.

We had luncheon at Ateamuri, under the shadow of the great vertical

rock that stands 300 feet high on the plain, called Pohaturoa, or the

"Rat's Tooth," from the jagged edges at the top. A Maori legend tells

of a defeated tribe who fled to the summit of this rock, and were

besieged there for a week, living on the roots of ferns, and hurling

down rocks on their enemies. They found a pool of water at the top, and

only surrendered after burying sixteen of their number, whose graves

are still to be seen up there. Here we found our old friend the Waikato

again, and we laid out our luncheon on its banks, under the shade of a

weeping willow. Mr. Graham met here the widow of the chief who had given

him Wairakei.

We coached on all through the afternoon, and towards five o'clock we

turned off the high road, across a rough grass-track to Wairakei.

Presently we seemed to be driving at random over stumps and bushes of

ti-tree, and about to plunge down into a valley by a road leading down

the side of a precipice. We declined to go down this on other than our

own legs, and I think the horses could not have held the carriage back

without being lightened of our load. In the far distance, in the hollow,

a native wharrie, with two out-sheds, was pointed out to us as Wairakei!

Wairakei is the property of Mr. Robert Graham.[2] Under the guidance of

a native, he was the first _white_ man who ever visited these wonderful

geysers, mineral springs, and hot rivers. On expressing his admiration to

the chief of the tribe, he was presented with Wairakei, for Mr. Graham

speaks Maori like a native, and is very popular with them. I believe

afterwards the tribe, as also the government, objected to this gift of

the chief, and Mr. Graham made due compensation, and by purchase added

4000 acres to the estate. It is a most valuable property, with enormous

natural advantages as a health resort, and only requires capital and

enterprise for its future development. It lies on a flat plain surrounded

by mountains, and already a proposed township has been described with

imaginary lines. The hot mineral stream that flows through the plain has

been made use of to erect two baths, one hot and the other cold. A large

pool further on is used for the cure of animals, and the geysers lie in

a valley two miles away.

Mr. and Mrs. Cullen were in sole possession, and received us at the door

of the wharrie. He is the bailiff and general factotum about the place.

An engineer, he speaks a smattering of eleven languages, and can turn

his hand to anything. He has just erected the rough shed, with a row of

stables on one side, and some extra bedrooms on the other; he has fenced

and dammed the water for the baths, and will cement the bottom some day;

he has made all the fences, paths, and gates about the place, and all

with the help of one Irish boy, while Mrs. Cullen performs the work of

three servants about the house.

The wharrie was a real native one, thatched on the roof and sides with

the coarse native grass, and lined inside with "raupo"--rushes growing

in swamps. There was a blazing wood fire of logs on the open fireplace

in the general sitting-room, out of which three bedrooms opened, all

furnished very scantily. We were in the rough, and thoroughly enjoying

it under such temporary circumstances. I helped Mrs. Cullen to lay the

table and spread the provisions we had brought with us--tins of preserved

butter, Swiss milk and jam--and ran backwards and forwards between the

kitchen out of doors and the wharrie.

We sat down to "high tea," Mr. Mac, our driver, joining us as a matter of

course. The hut was light and airy, but I must say we suffered somewhat

from the cold at night, the moon shining down through the crevices in the

roof, and through the blindless and curtainless window.

_Tuesday, September 30th._--I was up at 6 a.m., and, running down to

the bottom of the garden, plunged into the warm bath. It was perfectly

delightful swimming about in the hot, pale-blue stream, and then

gradually creeping round the wooden platform to where the water became

tepid, and then cold, till the final "cure" was under the shower-bath at

the end! A cold stream is brought down on one side of the bathing-house,

and the natural hot stream flows on the other, so thus you have a choice

of every temperature. The mineral properties are the same as those at

Ohinemutu, unequalled for the cure of rheumatism and all cutaneous

disorders.

The waters are equally valuable for animals, as we had the means of

testing. Our four-year old mare, the near leader of yesterday, was sick

and off her feed. Mac took her to bathe twice in the course of the day,

and gave her three bucketfuls to drink, and by the evening she was

perfectly well.

After breakfast I got on to a rough pony called Molly, and we rode over

the hill, through a track in the bracken to the "geysers."

Looking down over a green and well-wooded valley, we saw columns of

steam, now dying, now increasing in density, and heard all kinds of

underground rumbling and mysterious hissings and splashings. We tied up

Molly, and descended into the little valley, through the undershrub of

ti-tree, walking over a hot, spongy soil.

Terekereke Was the first wonder we came to. It is a large pool of dark

blue water enclosed by black rocks, and encrusted with sinter. The

ceaseless bubbling of the water above and below the surface gives it

the more ordinary name of the "champagne" pool. Occasionally the action

increases, and masses of boiling water are thrown against the rocks,

accompanied by clouds of sulphuric steam, and then it quiets down again

to its usual effervescent surface.

[Illustration: Tuhuatahi Geyser, New Zealand.]

Tuhuatahi, the most active geyser in the valley, we arrived at next.

Looking over into a fissure of the rock, we saw a small quantity of

boiling water; and, even as we looked, we heard a distinct underground

crashing. It was the first warning. We retreated to a corner which we

knew to be safe, from the greenness of the vegetation. Another warning

louder than before followed after a minute's interval, and was still more

quickly succeeded by a third one.

It was the signal for the waters to begin heaving and surging, boiling

over the edge of the basin, and running down the terrace on which we

stood. It threw up a small column, and then one higher and still higher,

emitting dense clouds of steam, in the midst of which we caught glimpses

of a silvery column, playing to a height of ten feet above us. Detached

drops were thrown up still higher, shining out from against the black

wall of rock which forms a most striking background. We watched this

boiling column anxiously, feeling that at any moment a gust of wind

might scatter its contents over us; and then we looked wistfully at the

reducing force of the convulsion, and the grumbling subsidence of the

element within the crater, till the gentle lapping of the water against

the sides told us there was peace within once more. Again and again we

waited to see the great Tuhuatahi come forth from his cavernous depths,

with always those same three warnings, those three underground grumblings

and mutterings. They come quite regularly at intervals of seven minutes,

and the action of the geyser itself lasts about three minutes. All around

them were little embryo terraces, incrustated with pale pink, saffron

and green, fringed with silica crystals; and the spongy rocks scattered

about were coloured to a dark red, brown, or a brilliant orange, from the

strong sulphur impregnating all that comes within its reach.

We crossed the boiling stream Te Wairakei (the same which runs by the

wharrie), at the bottom of this volcanic valley. As we ascended we

heard the continuous thud of the "Donkey Engine," which has a pulsating

throb reverberating like the thud of a steam-engine working "in" the

hill underneath us. The origin of the "Donkey Engine" has not yet been

discovered.

From the other side of the valley we looked down into the mouth of the

"Great Wairakei." It has a curious triangular crater of spongy masses

of light brown sinter projecting out from the rock. The apex of the

triangle is formed by a large incrusted rock, something in the shape of

an arm-chair. Great Wairakei was not very active to-day, and we waited

long before he gave any signs of life.

Then we wandered on to Little Wairakei, a blue lake concealed in a quiet

corner behind manuka bushes; but this pale blue water is of a dangerous

nature, being 210° Fahrenheit. Below were the mud volcanoes--several

patches of creamy-looking mud. At every instant they bubbled up in little

cones, bobbing up and down in the most comical fashion. Then there was

the pool called the Coffee Pot, which literally boiled over every few

minutes.

After this we had a terribly rough scramble of half an hour, through tall

ti-trees, clinging to the branches down steep banks where the earth was

quite hot. We had to pick our way across a boiling pool on loose stones,

and climb over sinter rocks, whose crinkled edges cut mercilessly at

hands and feet unless care was used, and then we found ourselves standing

on a ledge literally surrounded by active geysers. Not one minute passed,

after we had walked over the three blow-holes in the rock called "the

Prince of Wales' Feathers," than they were playing away brightly in a

tripled feathery spray. I sat down on a projecting stone, and feeling

myself being scorched underneath, discovered I was sitting _over_ a steam

hole! As I got up Nga Ma-hanga, or The Twins, began to play vigorously.

They have a large pear-shaped basin of sinter, divided into two portions,

and resemble a huge Turkey sponge in their creamy perforated substance.

They are surrounded by masses of white and orange silica, and explode

in violent outbursts at intervals of four or five minutes. No sooner

had they finished, than "The Whistler" began to be active and throw up

from a black cavernous mouth, accompanied by a small water-spout, which

acts simultaneously with "the Whistler," at intervals of ten minutes.

We watched to see "the Boilers" perform. These from a rock-bound pool

covered with green shiny algæ, partially separated by a narrow chasm,

send up spasmodically a column of water from six to eight feet in height.

And then we began to feel that if we waited there any longer, with these

geysers playing alternately around us, the ground might open beneath our

feet, and ourselves be engulphed in a fiery furnace and pit of hell, so

we scrambled away.

Afterwards we had a long hunt for the "Eagle's Nest," which is one of

the most beautiful geysers in the valley. Wandering among the manuka,

clinging to rocks, to support us over the crumbling surface, we found

it at last hidden away amongst the trees. The nest is formed of long

sticks that have fallen crossways over the cone of the geyser, and

become gradually frosted, from the deposit of silica left by the action

of the feathery spray playing from the same. It is so beautifully and

delicately made, one can hardly believe it has been formed by an accident

in nature.

We had to cross Te Wairakei to reach the opposite side of the valley to

return home. In doing so we came to a quiet pool, where the hot stream

opens out into a small lake. Here we sat down to rest on a large red clay

rock.

"Rap, tap!" came from inside the rock, and we all jumped up. The rock was

distinctly shaken, the ground under our feet reverberated slightly, and

the echo extended to the neighbouring rocks. It was the wonderful "Steam

Hammer." The thud of this titanic forge has been going on for centuries,

and will continue for many more; yet the secret must ever remain a

mystery. Should any one dare to unravel the mystery or tamper with the

inside mechanism it will doubtless stop for ever. The theory at present

started about the Steam Hammer is, that the sharp tap is caused by water

rushing through some small aperture in the rock; but it is a very crude

one, and when Wairakei becomes better known other more possible solutions

will be propounded. At times the hammer is louder or softer, but we could

hear it distinctly as we climbed up the valley on the other side, and

with a favourable wind and clear atmosphere it can be heard on some days

a mile off.

After luncheon the "faithful Molly" was brought round again, and the

gentlemen mounted three rough-coated horses.

Half-an-hour's riding, going up and down small precipices while crossing

some gullies, and a canter through the bracken, brought us to the Huka

Falls.

The Waikato here is a beautiful broad river, flowing swiftly between low

banks 120 feet apart. It suddenly runs into a narrow rocky channel only

thirty feet wide. Imagine this enormous volume of water compressed and

fighting through the deep trough; the fierce struggle at the entrance,

the long green slide of the waters in their gradual descent, the angry,

turbulent rapids where the channel becomes still narrower, and, at the

last, the sudden shoot over of the mighty waters, between two large rocks.

We lay face downwards, hanging over the precipice, to look down on the

Fall. The waters, as they fell over, took the shape of a mill wheel; it

seemed as if there must be one underneath churning them into a foaming

circle. Just at the edge they became that intense sea-green colour seen

only to perfection at Niagara.

From the point where we were standing, we commanded all the changes of

the hues; from their muddy colour in the river, to their pale green in

the narrow ravine; from the mass of flake-like foam in the fall, to the

dark blue of the pool into which they tumble. And here, as the river

widens out, they eddy and swirl in a passionate turmoil, and are far on

their course before they settle down to their even natural flow.

The Huka Falls have no great height, but it is the immensity of the

volume of water which constitutes their greatest charm.

The story is told of sixteen natives of a strange tribe who came to visit

the Huka Falls, and boasted that they could go down them in a canoe. The

natives of Taupo dared them to try, and they embarked. One changed his

mind at the last minute, and escaped by jumping out on to the rocks, but

the others went over the fall, and were never seen again. Many years

afterwards some fragments of the canoe were found jammed between the

rocks; but not one of the bodies ever rose to the surface, sucked under

by the current of the whirlpool.

Mr. Kerry Nicholls has recently tried to penetrate under the Huka Falls

from both sides. He has conclusively proved that it is impossible to pass

through, but he found a small ledge in the rock _under_ the falls, on

which you can stand with safety.

There is a cave lined with maidenhair and other ferns, difficult of

access, and which was only discovered a few days ago. Mr. Graham had not

yet been in it, and he christened it that afternoon after me, the "Ethel

Cave."

We rode up to a high knoll, whilst the boy who had come in charge of the

horses was told to light the bracken below, so that we had a splendid

view of a clearing fire, the flames shooting up to an enormous height in

forked tongues, and some raupo burning with a loud crackling. The wind

was blowing our way, bearing us bits of blackened furze, and we retreated

before the stifling clouds of smoke.

Then we went on to the Venus Bath, a warm pool of pleasant temperature.

Looking through the clear depths, we saw the bottom, enamelled with

beautiful green moss, and it is called the Venus Bath from its wonderful

beautifying properties, which removes all freckles and blotches from

the skin. We tested it, and it is quite certain that the hands we held

in the water became much whiter. Mr. Graham and Mr. Davidson rode to a

mile and a half further away, to see "Okurawai," the coloured springs--a

collection of hot springs in pools that look like pots of red, pink,

orange, and yellow paint, but C. and I turned homewards, the clouds and

mountains foretelling rain.

There is no doubt that by nature Wairakei is intended as a great health

and pleasure resort for "_all nations_," and that, properly developed, it

will become the most valuable of properties. Mr. Graham also possesses

the watering place of Waiwera, that lies to the north of Auckland, and

on the shores of the Hauraki Gulf, and the Lake House, with some of the

hot springs at Ohinemutu. If these three were worked together by one

company, there would be a splendid future for them all. In Australia

they have no summer resort, with the exception of Hobart in Tasmania;

and round trips to the Hot Lake districts, organized from Melbourne and

Sydney, would bring hundreds of tourists every year. As it is, with the

numerous drawbacks of bad roads, indifferent coach service, and rough

accommodation, they come in yearly increasing numbers. Properly known

and advertised, and with the direct mail service that is now established

between New Zealand and England, many would visit the Hot Lake district,

escaping the rigour of the winter at home. They would come out to enjoy

the glory of the New Zealand summer when the climate is perfection. At

that time of the year all the baths and waters in Europe are closed, and

Wairakei and Ohinemutu ought to become, in time, the winter Ems or Spa.

The long sea voyage of fifty days or so would be no drawback to many

invalids. At present Wairakei is almost unknown. I am only the second

lady _from_ England who has been there, and it is very little visited by

the colonists.

Miss Gordon Cumming's prophecy that "this district will be a vast

sanatorium, to which sufferers from all manner of diseases will be sent

to Nature's own dispensary to find the healing waters suited to their

need," will now at some no distant date become true.

When you think that the waters at Ohinemutu and Wairakei are so strongly

mineral and medicinal that they can be said to be an infallible cure,

with sufficient patience, for rheumatism and all cutaneous diseases, how

can they help becoming the great world-curing establishment? Think of

the fortune that alone could be made from the bottling and exportation

throughout the world of the water of the "Venus bath," a sure cure for

blotches and freckles, or of that of "Kiriokinekai," the Maori for new

skin, another of the hot streams at Wairakei, which has a wonderful

effect in restoring the growth of the hair on bald heads!

C. was very much interested, in a conversation with Cullen, to find out

that he had accompanied the Imperial Russian Survey of officers, as an

engineer, in an expedition towards the Indian frontier. He affirms that

there is no obstacle whatever to the advancement of an army from Merv to

Herat; clearly showing that the difficulty of Russian aggression on India

does not lie in natural barriers, as has been alleged.

_Wednesday, October 1st._--We left Wairakei in the afternoon, to drive

ten miles to Taupo. The rain came on and prevented our turning off

the road, by an orchard which although but just planted is already

blossoming, so great is the fertility of the soil, to see Pirorirori or

the Blue Lake, a sheet of blue water lying amongst the white clay cliffs.

From a great distance we saw the steam of the great and awful "Karapiti"

rising up on the flat plain, with the uncertain action of these volcanic

blow-holes. We arrived early in Taupo, being anxious to secure the best

seats in the mail coach for to-morrow's drive.

Taupo lies on the shore of the lake, and consists of the Telegraph

station, the Lake House (the hotel), one general store, and the

neat white buildings, surrounded by an earthen outwork of the Armed

Constabulary Force. There are about fifteen of these "A. C." stationed

here. They were formerly established in defence against the natives, and

are now employed as police and in mending or making the roads. Those

we have been travelling over are mostly made by the A. C., aided by

contracts with Maori labourers.

On this afternoon "_the_" store was closed, the proprietor enjoying the

weekly event of the arrival of the newspaper by the mail.

Whilst C. went to see the chief of the A. C., Major Scanlan, I wandered

along the shore of Lake Taupo, with "Mac," picking up pieces of pumice

stone of beautifully fine texture and light weight. Their colours were

lovely salmon pink, ochre, pale green, or a silvery pearly grey.

We shall be leaving the King Country to-morrow, and I must here say a few

words about the Maoris. There are altogether some 15,000 in the North

Island, while in the South Island they only number 2000. The large tracts

of bare pumice country which we have been passing through all belong to

the Maoris. The land is utterly useless to them, as they attempt no kind

of cultivation. As a race, the men have a fine physique; and although

naturally lazy, they are capable of vigorous exertions, as was seen

during the years of the war. The women are treated as slaves, and are,

as a rule, small and ill-developed. All agree in saying that the Maoris

are a gentle, harmless people, with few vices, but contact with the white

man deteriorates them, and they become cunning and untruthful. The fusion

of the Maori race with the whites is impossible. The half-castes are

said never to live beyond the age of forty. The Maoris are dying out,

particularly in the South Island, where contact with civilization induces

them to adopt European habits and dress, and the latter is the cause

of the consumption which carries off a large proportion of them. Their

land is being gradually bought up by the government or by settlers, and

the introduction of this system has been most baneful to them, inducing

them to depend on the sale of their land, instead of their labour, for

subsistence.

They seem to have little idea of religion, and that is, in its crudest

form, mixed up with mythology and legendary heroes, handed down from

generation to generation. Nor have they any particular reverence for

the Tohunga or priest. They believe in immortality. "The road to their

heaven is through Reinga, a cave in a cliff at the North Cape of the

island, whence they think that the departed spirits pass to the realms

above, using the roots of the Pohutukawa-tree as a ladder." They make

the "tangi," or funeral, the occasion of a great feast. The mourners are

wreathed with fern and lycopodium, and cry and wail for many hours, after

which they begin on the enormous feast which has been prepared.

A tangi lasts for three days, during which all the kouru and riwai

(potatoes) and poaka (pigs) collected in the neighbourhood are consumed,

leaving them very short of provisions for some weeks afterwards.

Many of the natives acknowledge the Queen as their sovereign in

preference to their own "King," who is only followed by certain tribes.

They have a great reverence for the "paheka" (European), and English is

taught in most of the Maori schools.

The tattooing common to all is done in imitation of the scales of a fish.

The origin of the curious mythological sign of the three fingers which is

found on all the carved wooden images in the temples is unknown. A vague

theory exists which is as follows: These wooden figures, which generally

have a smaller one inserted underneath, are supposed to represent

an ancestor. At any time the chief might come and say it was "tapu"

(belonged to him, or sacred), but the three fingers were a deformity;

and nothing can be "tapu" that is deformed. The Maori language is sweet

and soft-sounding. The alphabet consists of only fourteen letters. The

consonants being G, H, K, M, N, P, R, T, and W; and the vowels are the

same as ours. A characteristic feature of the language is their fondness

for the double repetition of the syllable in words, such as, Ruru, an

owl; Titi, the mutton bird; Wiwi, a swamp rush; and Toetoe, grass.

All Maori names are chosen on the sensible plan of describing the object

they name, such as Rotomahana, the hot lake; the Huka Falls, snowy

foam; Kiriokinekai, new skin, &c. Wai means water, and so Waiwera (the

watering-place near Auckland) means hot water; Wairoa, long water;

Waikato, drawn-out water, on account of the length of the river;

Waitangi, weeping water; and Wairakei, water in motion, on account of the

volcanic action about there.

_Thursday, October 3rd._--We left Taupo in the coach at six the next

morning, driving for some miles along the shore of the lake. To our right

we saw the high, conical peak of Tongariro, from whose crater for ever

issues a black cloud of smoke, and a little further on the mountain of

Tauhara, the "Lone Lover" of the Maoris, and Mount Ruahepu. The whole

range of mountains were covered with the purest snow, and so veiled in

clouds, that the summits often peeped out from above or mingled with the

low-lying clouds.

All through the morning we were driving through an intensely dreary

stretch of pumice country, and on whichever side you looked there was

nothing but the coarse, yellow grass tufted with raupo; nothing but

wide expanses of Wiwi, or mata or toetoe grass, mingled with clumps

of _Phormium tenax_, the flax-plant of New Zealand. This plant has a

broad sword-like rush, and flowers either a dark red or pale yellow. It

grows in swamps on marshy places to a height of from four to eight feet.

The fibre is used for rope, but unfortunately it rots with damp; and

experiments prove that it is only reliable when mixed with other fibres.

Every now and again we came upon a little stream forming a green strip

amid the yellow desert by the hanea or watercress growing along its

banks, but the dreariness of those endless miles of pumice country, only

limited in their vastness by low mountain ranges, I shall never forget.

The only object of interest was to watch and trace the windings of our

road away among the yellow tufts.

The coach was miserably horsed. Two speckled horses, with a pony and a

mule for the leaders, formed a very weedy team. At the first hill we came

to they began jibbing, not from vice, but from sheer inability to drag

the coach, with its heavy load of eight passengers, up the hill; and

these were the horses that were to take us fifty miles before the day was

over! We were terribly packed both inside and out, and were all glad to

walk as much as possible. The coach was of a very ancient date, and swung

on leathern straps in place of springs. There were no doors or windows,

but old yellow leather curtains that rolled up. The top of the roof in

front was ornamented with three black lanterns, resembling a Prince of

Wales' feathers, that produced a most hearse-like effect from a distance.

The poles of the telegraph wires kept us company, disappearing

occasionally to take some short cut. We saw no "pale-face" dwelling all

day, and only passed three or four Maori settlements. It was pointed out

to me how, for some unknown reason, the door in the "wharrie" is always

back or front, and never at the side. At one of these settlements we saw

a cart, with a man on horseback, in charge of the body of a dead chief,

which was lying, wrapped in a piece of sacking, at the bottom. He was

taking it thirty miles away, to be buried by the tribe of the deceased.

We had luncheon, stopping for an hour in the middle of the pumice plain

by a stream that watered the horses.

Late in the afternoon we found ourselves serpenting along the edge of

a magnificent gorge. It was so deep and straightly precipitous that we

could not see the stream, which we heard brawling at the bottom of the

ravine. We were soon enjoying one of the downward rushes, so pleasant

after the weary crawling up-hill, with the coach groaning, and creaking,

and making but little progress. I think the team enjoyed it as much as

we did, for they galloped away, with the coach at their heels, hardly

slackening at the sharp curves in the zigzag roads. It was pleasurable

excitement mingled with terror. We were getting impatient, and anxious to

arrive at our night's shelter, for the sun had set, the air was growing

chill around us, and the gorges darkening into impenetrable gloom.

Over the hill we saw the lurid light of a fire, with tongues of flame

shooting up, and showing momentarily the darkened patches left by its

devastating work. Rounding the corner, the beautiful vision of a golden

zigzag of lines of flame met us, swept by the wind in ever-varying

brightness up and down the hill-side.

The "only three miles more" of Griffith, the driver, were becoming six

as we found ourselves in the dark, and about to ascend another long

hill. The wheels locked at a sudden sharp turn, and we all bundled out

of the coach, and then walked, taking short cuts up the winding road.

The moon came up, and we ended by sliding down a bank of white sand,

that glistened under the rays of the moon, on to the road, and walking

on until Griffith overtook us, just in time to save his reputation and

prevent our arriving on foot at the inn at Tarawera.

We were to sleep in this beautiful valley, hemmed in by mountains that

would keep their watch over us through the long night hours. How romantic

and charming it sounded, and what prosaic discomfort there was in the

reality!

The inn consisted of one living room, where the village smoked and drank.

A ladder staircase led to a loft roughly partitioned off into bedrooms,

where every sound through the whole length of the passage could be heard.

Seven men, with their colley dogs, driving sheep from Auckland to Napier,

arrived after us, and had to be accommodated, so the gentlemen slept that

night three in one room.

I am bound to say that these small inns are perfectly clean, and that

the fare, if homely, is substantial. There is always a good joint of

meat (and the beef in New Zealand is the best I have ever eaten),

with vegetables and bread and cheese, or sometimes a more ambitious

attempt in the way of jam tartlets or rice pudding. But it seems quite

extraordinary that there should be no cows in villages where there is

such abundance of rich pasture, and that we should find everywhere in use

the "Anglo-Swiss Condensed," and tinned butter.

The next morning we were on the road again by 6 a.m., and in the

midst of the grand mountain scenery of the previous night. It was one

succession of toiling up mountains for three hours, to rush down on them

on the other side in half an hour. In the course of the day we crossed

no less than two distinct ranges--the Hukiuni, or Great Head, and the

Maunyaharuru, or Rumbling Mountains. It was weary work this crawling up

the side of these, each zigzag bringing us so many feet higher up, to

lose again by the descent what we had but just so painfully gained.

One scene among many others impressed itself vividly on my mind that

day. It was soon after we started, when we had climbed some height above

Tarawera, that I looked back to a low range of pine-covered hills leading

up to some rocky mountain tops. Immediately beneath there was a green

common, with some white specks, that was the village of Tarawera. Some

bare, stony headlands closed in this first gorge. Then looking from

the mountain, on to the sides of which the coach was hanging, down the

precipice below, the eye on the opposite side followed upwards, upwards

from the dense, blue mist to the thick vegetation, and beyond to the

grey, stony patches of the highest peaks, shot with a pinky grey.

A bit of bush, and flying down hill for eight miles, brought us on to

the side of another mountain. We saw nothing from here but a sea of grey

peaks stretching for miles, their outline marked by the deep shadows in

their cleft and pointed sides.

Another three hours amid very bare mountain scenery, and the country

opened out. We were shown the narrow fertile valley leading to the sea,

while some white dots were pointed out as the houses of Napier. Very far

away they looked, some thirty miles from where we were.

We had luncheon at Griffith's "Stables," in a one-roomed hut, that was

entirely papered with pictures from the _Illustrated_ and the _Graphic_.

It formed a most interesting and thrilling wall-paper, choosing, as had

been done, all the most telling national events of the years '81 to '83.

We passed the afternoon in fording a swift stream, called the Esk,

crossing it from one bank to another no less than forty-five times in

two hours. Then we hailed with delight the green, verdant pasture-lands,

the thriving stock, and comfortable farm-houses, with their rows of

willow-trees, that lay scattered through the valley; glad to see these

homelike signs of cultivation after the wild, desolate scenes of the last

seven days.

Six miles of galloping over a pretty beach road on a tongue of land,

formed by the broad basin of Hawke's Bay on the one hand, and an arm of

inland sea on the other, brought us to the V-shaped wooden bridge. This

bridge of three-quarters of a mile, bridges over the gap formed by the

sea running round the promontory on which Napier stands. We drove along

the marshy bit of plain looking up at the white houses of the town above,

and the horses had a long climb before pulling up at the "Criterion

Hotel."

We were very, very tired after the week's coaching, but at the same time

we enjoyed the feeling of satisfaction that we had accomplished a most

successful expedition to the Hot Lakes, and had seen the greater part of

the North Island by coaching 250 miles through it.

I sat down to dinner this evening, the only lady amongst some twenty

men, come in from the town. It could not be helped, as there were no

private sitting-rooms. Before we left England we had been told how

rough we should find the hotels in New Zealand. Not only is there this

difficulty about a private room, but the bar at all the hotels is placed

at the entrance, so that on arriving you often think you have come to a

public-house. The best of them are not better than our "commercial hotel"

in England, and they will remain so until a greater influx of travellers

calls for better accommodation. Much the same complaint may be made about

the means of travelling in New Zealand, especially in the North Island.

There are very few railways at present, and communication is maintained

by coasting steamers and coaches at the rate of fifty miles per day. No

through connection between these means, or choice of evils, is attempted.

_Saturday, October 4th._--A lovely morning for a drive about the town.

Napier is such a pretty place, with no level spot within the township;

it is all up and down hill, with houses and gardens perched on the high

ground. Placed on the promontory there is a view of the sea from all

sides, and from one a glimpse of the distant range of low mountains, with

Hawke's Bay and the harbour below. The white surf is for ever rolling

heavily in along the beach road. On the low, marshy plain, which is being

gradually reclaimed from the sea, lie the villages of Clive, Hastings,

and Havelock, showing by their names the date of their foundation.

The roads are hard and good, but made of limestone, and the glare and

dazzling whiteness obliges many to wear blue spectacles. We drove

about to see the view from all sides, and then home through the town,

stopping at a shop to see some of the native woods when manufactured

into furniture. There are so many different kinds of woods, some light

and some dark, that a great variety in patterns can be obtained; but the

mottled wood of the kauri pine is the prettiest, and it is curious to

think that this wood is only mottled when diseased.

There was a repetition of "the ordinary" at the hotel at 1 p.m., clerks

and business men coming in from the town, and directly afterwards we

drove down to the wharf and embarked on the tender, that was to take us

on board the Union Steamship Company's steamer _Tarawera_. The tender

bobbed up and down, and shipped water freely. It was most alarming to

see the huge billows bearing down on us, and it seemed as if we must be

swamped by the surf, when going over the bar of the harbour. But when we

came alongside the _Tarawera_, the proceedings to be gone through there

were far worse. A gangway was lowered, but the swell carried the tender

hither and thither. At one moment the plank touched the deck, and the

next would be swinging far above us. The difficulty was for the passenger

to hit the exact moment at which to rush on to the gangway, and then to

cling on and struggle up it whilst left hanging in mid-air. It was a very

laughable affair for those looking over the bulwarks, but not so for us

in the tender, and there was a good deal of difficulty as to who would

venture first.

The _Tarawera_, like all the Company's ships, is beautifully fitted with

inlaid panels, stained glass skylights, and plush cushions. The social

hall is a gallery with seats running round the saloon, containing an

organ and piano at either end; but the cabins and saloon are aft, and

the proximity of the screw terrible. The Union Steamship Company have a

monopoly of the New Zealand ports, and own a large fleet of fair-sized

steamers, all called by Maori names. We were coasting along the North

Island during the night.

By ten o'clock the next morning we were alongside the wharf at

Wellington, and drove to rooms at the "Empire Hotel," previously engaged

for us. The outside was dingy and uninviting, and the inside not less so,

though the people were most civil and anxious to please.

Mr. Tolhurst, the manager of the Bank of New Zealand, immediately called

for us, and proposed taking us to the Cathedral Church for morning

service, and afterwards to his house for luncheon.

Sunday is a particularly unfortunate day to arrive anywhere in the

colonies, as it is a blank day as regards domestic service; our luggage,

too, which had come from Auckland in the _Southern Cross_, was not

obtainable. Sir William Drummond Jervois, the Governor, came and called

during the afternoon, and very kindly insisted upon our removing the

following day to Government House.

_Monday, October 6th._--We were greeted by a typical Wellington day;

a blowing and blustering wind raising clouds of dust in the streets.

Wellington lies on a strip of land between the hills, which rise

immediately behind the town, and the sea. For some reason it seems to

be a funnel or trap-hole for the wind to blow through on all sides, and

they say you can always "tell a Wellington man anywhere, by the way in

which he clutches at his hat round the street corners." All the buildings

and houses are of wood, on account of the frequent shocks of earthquake

which visited Wellington at one time. Old inhabitants declare that they

remember the time when the earthquakes were of weekly occurrence; and in

the earlier days of the settlement they thought seriously of removing it

elsewhere. The town has a busy, prosperous look in the principal street,

called Lambton Quay, except on Saturday afternoon, when Wellington has a

curiously deserted appearance, and every one goes out into the country.

Standing a little above the town are the cluster of Government buildings.

The Government offices form the largest wooden building in the world,

with the exception of the Sublime Porte at Stamboul. The Houses of

Parliament are a Gothic structure, and Government House, with the garden,

lies between. This is a large, comfortable house, surmounted by a wooden

tower and flagstaff; and when inside it is almost impossible to believe

that the large, lofty rooms, broad corridors, ball-room, and handsome

staircase, belong to a wooden tenement.

We drove up there in the course of the afternoon, and Lady Jervois and

Miss Jervois received us most kindly. We were introduced to the staff,

who consisted of Mr. Pennefather, the private secretary, and Major

Eccles, the aide-de-camp.

After dinner the governor went to a meeting for founding a Society for

Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. C. went with him, and made a short

speech, being on the council of the Society in London.

Later, we all went to a masonic ball; the grandmaster of the lodge

and other masons, in their full insignia, receiving the Governor at

the entrance, when we formed into procession to enter the ball-room,

under the arch of intertwined masonic wands. C. met the past

deputy-grandmaster, who had been entertained at the lodge of which he was

master the year before last in London--so small is the world.

_Tuesday, October 7th._--A tremendous storm and peal of thunder woke

me at 6 a.m. Rain, storm, and wind seem to be more excessive in their

quantities in New Zealand than in England.

We went to see Dr. Buller's very perfect collection of Maori curiosities,

at his house on the Terrace; it is one of the finest extant. Portraits

of Maori chiefs are hung round the room; there were feather mantles and

native mats, the orange-painted staff of a chieftain, fringed with the

white hair of the native dog, the sharp instrument used for tatooing, and

some very beautiful greenstone meri meris. This meri is formed of a piece

of greenstone about a foot long, and fined down and broadened out to a

flat, thin edge. The merit meri is used by the chiefs to split open the

skull of a rebellious subject.

At Mr. Köhn's we found another collection of Maori South Sea curiosities.

He is a German, and possesses within the recesses of his back premises

on Lambton Quay some very wonderful South Sea curios, brought to him

by German men-of-war. He has already sold one collection for 500_l._,

and has sent some curiosities home to the museum at Berlin, against the

authorities of which he has a righteous grievance, in that they were

never even acknowledged! We saw battle-axes with red and yellow handles,

spears, bows, and arrows barbed with poison from decomposed bodies,

strings of white and black beads for money, war masks formed of skulls,

made hideous with splashes of paint, and held inside the mouth by an

iron bar, shells, and cocoa-nut matting, with fringes of the same worn

round the waist, and considered "full dress" by the ladies of the South

Sea Islands. But the most interesting thing of all was a rough coffin,

covered with a strip of parchment, containing the burnt figure of a South

Sea Islander. The skull had the most peculiar pointed formation, and was

exactly an inch in thickness at the back of the head. The body had been

stuffed and burnt, till the skin was black and hard as brick. On the face

there was a ghastly grin. Another day we went to see the Museum, which

Dr. Hector has been mainly instrumental in starting. The total absence of

mammalia forms a remarkable feature of New Zealand, the only indigenous

animals found being a bat and a small rat. There is a fine collection

of native birds. Amongst them the kea, or green field parrot. This bird

was formerly a vegetarian, but it now kills and eats sheep. Sitting on

the back of the animal, it picks with his long beak till it pierces and

reaches the kidney fat, which it eats, thus killing the sheep.

The members of both Houses of Parliament are at Wellington, the session

being in progress. The flutter of excitement consequent on three changes

of ministry during the last month is just subsiding. C. met and has had

much conversation with Mr. Stout, the present premier, Sir Julius Vogel,

the late premier, and present colonial treasurer, Sir George Grey, and

all the other ministers and prominent political men of New Zealand. One

day he was present at an interview between the Governor and the two

Maori representatives in the House, who sought his advice as to whether

they should go to England, and endeavour to obtain the Queen's assent

to the abolition of the native court, and the principle of dealing with

the native laws. His Excellency showed them in the clearest way that the

Maoris of New Zealand had more than equal rights of making and altering

laws, appointing and deposing governments, by their parliamentary

representatives, and that the Home Government left the administration

of New Zealand entirely in the hands of the inhabitants, including the

Maoris, on equal terms.

Wellington does not possess so good a newspaper as some of the other

places. Each town and province in New Zealand has its own local paper.

This is necessitated by the distance, want of centralization, and means

of communication; for instance, it takes seven days by steamer from

Auckland to Wellington. These papers are all pretty much alike from

Auckland to Invercargill. They have the same cablegrams and English news,

and the same parliamentary and general intelligence; they only differ in

local paragraphs. We thought the best daily papers were the _New Zealand

Herald_ of Auckland and the _Lyttleton Times_ of Christchurch; and the

best weekly paper the _Canterbury Times_, which is like our _Queen_ and

_Field_ compiled into one.

_Thursday, October 9th._--There was a ball at Government House in the

evening, preceded by a large parliamentary dinner. About 300 invitations

had been issued, and the guests were asked from 8.30 to 12 o'clock.

Long before the hour named carriages were driving up, but this was

accounted for by the scarcity of flys, each having to do duty for many

families that night. The married women dance as vigorously as the girls,

and it must be a pleasure giving a dance where all seem to enjoy it so

thoroughly.

_Monday, October 13th._--We said good-bye to the Governor and Lady

Jervois, and left Government House with much regret, after a very

pleasant visit of a week. The Hon. Robert Stout, Premier, the Hon. E.

Richardson, Minister of Public Works, Mr. Ross, Mr. Wakefield, and other

members of the House of Representatives were waiting on the wharf to wish

us good-bye, and see us on board the _Waihora_.

Anchor was weighed at 3 p.m., and we steamed out of the deep, natural

harbour, in which Wellington lies, through the narrow channel at its

entrance into Cook's Strait. We were soon driven below by the cold wind,

and passed a wretched night, sleepless and very ill, with groans from

C. in the berth above, and sighs from me in the one below. We rose and

dressed wearily the next morning, and waited about in the "social-hall,"

with cold blasts coming down through the open skylights, till the train

at Lyttleton was ready, when we walked across to the station. Snow had

fallen during the night, and the hills were plentifully besprinkled with

white, and it was the wind blowing off them which had brought us such

bitter cold. Lyttleton is the port for Christchurch, and half an hour in

the train, passing through a long tunnel, brought us thither.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: This was written before the introduction of the 6_d._

telegram in England.]

[Footnote 2: As I correct the proofs, we are grieved to hear of the death

of this genial and kind-hearted man.]