Our New Zealand cousins

THE LIBRARY

OF
THE UNIVERSITY

OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES

OUR NEW ZEALAND COUSINS,

LONDON' :

PRINTED BY GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, LIMITED,
ST. JOHN'S HOUSE, CLERKENWKLL T.OAD.

OUR NEW ZEALAND
COUSINS

THE HON. JAMES INGLIS

("Maori"),

MINISTER OF PUBLIC INSTRUCTION IN THE NEW SOUTH WALES LEGISLATIVE ASSEMBLY;

AUTHOR OF "SPORT AND WORK ON THE NEPAUL FRONTIER,"

"OUR AUSTRALIAN COUSINS," ETC., ETC.

Uoutiou :

SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, AND RIVINGTON

CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET

1887

[All rights reserved^

DU

4 VI

PREFACE.

THE first chapter of this book explains the
circumstances under which I undertook the work,
and renders a long preface unnecessary.

Being originally written for the Sydney Press,
my descriptions, penned as we journeyed, have all
the drawbacks incident to hasty composition ; but
I have had so many, and so gratifying requests, to
have the letters published in book form, by friends,
whose good opinion is dear to me, that I feel it
would be prudish to refuse. Frankly confessing
my shortcomings therefore, I throw myself once
more on the merciful consideration of my critics.

Allusions and comparisons, will be found scat-
tered at intervals through the book, which are more
peculiarly applicable to Australians, than to the
wider circle of readers at home ; but as, I believe,
such references may be found to incidentally illus-
rate phases of Colonial life, and circumstance, I
have deemed it on the whole better to retain them.

Mindful of former criticism, I have honestly tried
to " prune my style," and curb my natural ex-
uberance of expression ; but alas ! I am conscious

1313997

vi Preface.

that I have yet much to learn, and that there is
great room for improvement in these and other
respects.

However, if the reader will accept my pages, as
a homely unpretending record of a very delightful
trip, through " The Wonderland of the South
Pacific," I hope my comments on what we
witnessed, and my revelation of the change and
progress, effected by twenty years of colonization,
may prove both interesting and instructive.

I have tried to describe simply and truthfully
what I saw, and what I thought. My most earnest
hope is, that what I have written may enkindle in
the hearts of our kinsmen in the dear old mother
land, who may read this book, a livelier, deeper,
and kindlier interest in the fortunes of their
loyal and loving Cousins, of Australia and New
Zealand.

J.I.

CRAIGO, STRATHFIELD, SYDNEY, N.S.W.
May, 1886.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

A retrospect — Twenty years ago — A long cherished
desire about to receive fulfilment — First glimpse of
the Maori coast — Kauri gum — The North Cape —
An old whaling station — " The old order changeth "
— Rangitoto — Auckland harbour — The city from
the sea — Contrasted with Sydney — Queen Street,
the chief artery — The water supply — The theatres
— Hotels — North Shore — Lake Takapuna — Excel-
lence of the city commissariat I

CHAPTER II.

Auckland continued — Mount Eden the chief lion — View
from the mountain — Conveyances — Start for the hot
lakes — Railways — The Waikato Hills — The ubi-
quitous manouka scrub — Wayside villages — A
Maori belle — The village market — Arrive at Cam-
bridge the present terminus 17

' ? CHAPTER III.

Cambridge — Mixture of races — Our Jehu, Harry — The
Waikato river — Novel sheep feed — The Waikato
terraces — A town of one building — A dangerous
pass — The lonely, lovely bush — First glimpse of
Rotorua — Ohinemutu — Steams and stenches — The
primitive cooking-pot — Striking contrasts — Wailing
for the dead — An artless beggar " for the plate " —
The baths — Whackarewarewa — A Maori larder —
Volcanic marvels — Subterranean activity — Barter —
The road maintenance man — Forest wealth — The
track of the destroyer — The Blue Lake — Mussel-
shell Lake — Wairoa village — Kate the guide —
McRae's comfortable home 25

viii Contents.

CHAPTER IV.

A rude awaking — An enraged Amazon— " Too hot "for
the thief — We start for the Terraces — Lake Tara-
wera — A merry boat's crew — The Devil's Rock —
Native delicacies — The landing-place — First view of
the Terraces — Beauty indescribable — The great
basin empty — Pluto's foghorn — The majesty of
nature — Wonder upon wonder — The mud cones —
Devil's Holq — The Porridge Pot — Devil's Wife —
Poor Ruakini ........ 44

CHAPTER V.

Lunch — An ogre — Bush rats — Kate's "familiar" — The
Pink Terraces — Sacrilegious scribblers — Nature's
masterpiece — Words too tame for such a sight— A
Sybarite's bath — Back to Wairoa — The waterfall —
Fern-hunting — Adieu to Wairoa . . . .60

CHAPTER VI.

Traits of native character — The ivharepuni or common
dormitory — The processes of civilization — Foul
feeding — Causes of disease — Attempts at reform in
social customs — The primitive carving-knife — The
Hau Haus — The Urewera country, the Tyrol of
New Zealand — Captain Mair's description of the
hillmen— The Urewera women — Some queer facts
— Extraordinary pigs — A whimsical scene — Then
and now, a sharp contrast — A stirring episode of the
old war — Snapping of the old links — A Maori chiefs
letter . t . 70

CHAPTER VII.

The s.s. Rotomahana — Opotiki, a military settlement — A
sensible system of emigration — Faults of the Sydney
system — A chance for capital — The town of Gis-
borne — Napier — Public spirit — Projected harbour
works — Napier, the Malta of the southern seas — An
attenuated army - . . 86

CHAPTER VIII.

The famous Hawke's Bay pastures — Hastings — Maori
farmers — Mountain torrents — A backwoods clearing

Contents. ix

PAGE

— Wasteful methods— The forest and hill country —
Woodville — The famous Manawatu gorge — A
curious ferry — Palmerston 98

CHAPTER IX.

A homely hotel — Hotel management in New Zealand
and New South Wales- Sharp criticism — Wan-
ganui, the town — Its fine reserve — Mount Ruapehu
— A pioneer settler — Diligent farmers — Great fer-
tility of soil — Signs of prosperity — A coasting
steamer — The Rip — Entrance to Wellington Har-
bour— Panoramic view of the capital — Then and
now — Importance of the city — View from Mount
Victoria . 112

CHAPTER X.

McNab's gardens — The Rimutaka railway — The Fell
engine — The gorge itself — Grandeur of the scenery
— Power of the wind — The Wairarapa Valley — The
town of Masterton — An antipodean hermit — Mr.
Kohn's curios — The Belmont Viaduct — Meat pre-
serving industry — The various stages — A Social
blot . . 128

CHAPTER XI.

Bank's Peninsula — Port Lyttelton — The changes of
twenty years — A transformation — The great tunnel
— The graving work — Christchurch, the city of
gardens — Its homelike aspect — Hard times —
Colloquy with a croaker — The philosophy of the
matter — " The good time coming " .... 141

CHAPTER XII.

The majesty of the mountains — The great Canterbury
Plains — Ashburton, a city of the plains — Then and
now — The Rangitata River — Progress of settlement
— Timaru — The surf — The olden time — The city of
to-day — A triumph of engineering skill — The giant
mole — Its construction — The engineer's description
of the work — An old chum — " Once a mate always
a mate " — Calling the roll — A vivid contrast . . 149

x Contents.

PAGE

CHAPTER XIII.

" The old order changed " — A fine farming country — A
literary peddler — Otago scenery — Wealth of water
— The Clutha country — A colonial manse — The
minister's lot a hard one — Kindly relations between
pastor and people — Tree-planting— Slovenly farm-
ing— An angler's paradise — Gore township — The
Waimea Valley — A night ride 166

CHAPTER XIV.

Up the dark silent lake — Dawn on LakeWakatipu — "The
Remarkables " — Queenstown — Chinamen gold-
diggers — Lake scenery — Von River — Greenstone
Valley — The Rees and Dart Rivers — Head of the
lake — Kitty Gregg — Peculiarities of the mountains
— The terrace formation — The old Scotch engineer
— Frankton Valley — Farmers' feathered foes — Lake
Hayes — Arrive at Arrowtown . . . . . 179

CHAPTER XV.

Arrowtown — "A river of golden sands1' — An auriferous
region — A dismal look-out — Old gold-workings — A
terrible chasm — Nature's laboratory — Rabbitters at
.work — A serious plague — The kea, or liver-eating
macaw — Hawk and pigeon — "Roaring Meg" —
Cromwell township — The Molyneux Valley —
Deserted diggings — Halt at Roxburgh . . . 195

CHAPTER XVI.

Dunkeld — Our Jehu — On the box seat- — A Chinese
Boniface — Gabriel's Gully — Good farming — Dune-
din — Harbour works — A category of " the biggest
things on record " — Charms of Dunedin — A holiday
drive — The Grand Hot el — The churches — Preachers
— Dunedin mud — Beer — Keen business competition
— The West Coast connection — " Wild Cat " claims
— The .Scotch element — Litigiousness — Energy of
the people 212

CHAPTER XVII.

The Bluff — Bleak and inhospitable view — Miserable
railway arrangements — First impressions — Cheerless

Contents. xi

PAGE

ride to Invercargill — Forestry neglected — Shameful
waste — The Timber industry — Necessity for re-
form— Pioneering — The usual Australian mode —
The native method — A contrast — Invercargill — A
large farm — Conservatism of the farming classes —
Remenyi's anecdotes 229

CHAPTER XVIII.

Education in New Zealand — School buildings — Opinion
of a high authority — The order of educational
arrangements — Professor Black's mining lectures —
Scheme for instruction to miners — Technical
education — Political parasites 246

CHAPTER XIX.

The farming industry — Technical education for farmers
— An agricultural department a necessity — State of
farming in Australia — Slovenly methods — New
products — Necessity for experiment — Village settle-
ment— Water conservation — Futility of a protective
policy 260

CHAPTER XX.

Good-bye to the Bluff — A rough passage — Tasmania in
the distance — Coast scenery — A nautical race —
Ocean fisheries — Neglected industries — Fish curing
— Too much reliance on State aid — The view on
the Derwent — Hobart from the sea — An old-world
town — " No spurt about the place " — Old-fashioned
inns — Out into the country — A Tasmanian squire—
The great fruit industry — A famous orchard —
Young Tasmanians — The hop industry — Australian
investments — The Flinders Islands — A terra incog-
nita— Back to Melbourne 273

CHAPTER XXI.

Summary — Importance of the colonies sometimes over-
looked at home — Their commercial importance —
Fields for capital — Mineral wealth — Farm products
— New Industries — Field for farmers — Liberal land
regulations — Openings for artisans — For labourers

xii Contents.

PAGE

— Free institutions — A land of promise for willing
workers — Inducements for seekers after health and
lovers of the picturesque — The clouds clearing —
Returning prosperity — The peace and unity of the
Empire ......... 294

APPENDIX 301

OUR NEW ZEALAND COUSINS.

CHAPTER I.

A retrospect — Twenty years ago — A long cherished desire
about to receive fulfilment — First glimpse of the Maori
coast — Kauri gum — The North Cape — An old whaling
station — " The old order changeth " — Rangitoto — Auck-
land harbour — The city from the sea — Contrasted with
Sydney — Queen Street, the chief artery — The water
supply — The theatres — Hotels — North Shore — Lake
Takapuna — Excellence of the city commissariat.

ONE reads much now-a-days of the progress of
colonization. One hears much of the rapid rise
of communities, of the quick changes of modern
life, and the sudden surprises of contemporary
history. It is rare, however, that one is privi-
leged to see for oneself the startling contrasts
and pregnant transformations, which have been
effected during twenty years of bristling activity
and onward progress, in a young country like
New Zealand. To endeavour to describe some-
thing of these is my aim in these notes of
travel.

It is no^ more than twenty years since I first
landed on the shingly beach at Port Lyttelton,
in the Canterbury province, and with light
pockets and hopeful heart trudged over the high

B

2 Our New Zealand Cousins.

hill that then barred the city of Christchurch
from its port. The great tunnel (monument to
the foresight and energy of Mr. Moorhouse, who
at that time was superintendent of the province)
was then only in course of perforation. In the
whole of the New Zealand group, only some
nine miles of railways were in working order.
It was my fate to travel pretty extensively through
the islands then. I visited nearly all the towns
of. any note, and being young, impressionable,
and not unobservant, those early scenes are in-
delibly fixed in my memory.

When I left India some years ago, after
spending some twelve years there as an indigo-
planter, an account of which has been given in
a former work,1 my intention was to revisit New
Zealand, and compare its present appearance
with my recollections of its former state ; but
hitherto circumstances had prevented my carry-
ing out that intention, until, in the month of
March, 1885, I found the opportunity I had
so fondly desired, and these notes of travel are
the result of my recent wanderings in the scenes
of my early experience, and I shall endeavour
to make them as interesting and instructive as
I can.

The incidents of steamship travel are pretty
uniform now-a-days. I could, I daresay, draw
a graphic contrast between the old Mermaid^
clipper ship, for instance, in which I made my

1 " Sport and Work on the Nepaul Frontier." London :
Macmillan and Co., 1878.

. Our New Zealand Coiisins. 3

first voyage to the antipodes, and the smart,
well-found, modern steamer Manapouri, one of
the magnificent fleet of the Union S.S. Co. of
N.Z., with her genial, lovable commander, Captain
Logan ; but it may be sufficient to say that,
having left Sydney with her peerless harbour
and sickening smells behind us, after a few days'
steaming we sighted Cape Maria early on a
Monday morning, and I once more gazed with
strangely mingled feelings on " the land of the
Maori and the moa," the new Great Britain of
the Southern Seas.

Cape Maria is the northernmost point of the
mainland of the colony, but it is not the first
land sighted by the voyager from Sydney to
Auckland. The triple islets named " The Three
Kings " lie to the north of Cape Maria, and are
the first spot of the Maori domain that catches
the eye of the man on the look-out.

Eastward of the cape is a wide, shallow bay,
known as Spirit Bay. The coast-line terminates
here, in an abrupt solitary conical bluff called
Spirit Point. The designation, however, relates
not to that mundane medium of seduction which
a Scotchman would call " speerits," but owes its
name to a legendary belief of the waning Maori
race. These dusky warriors hold that the spirits
of the departed here congregate, and poise them-
selves on the dizzy verge, preparatory to taking
a final farewell of the shores of their earthly
dwelling-place. From this point they wing their
flight to the Three Kings above-mentioned, which
B 2

4 Our New Zealand Cousins.

are thus the veritable Walhalla of the Maori race.
A sacrilegious cynic aboard, remarked, that if a
private still were only set to work on the Three
Kings, the spirits of a good many more than
merely defunct Maories might be expected to
muster thick when the roll was called.

Behind Cape Maria stretches a weary, wild
sand-drift. We could see the clouds of shifting
sand whirling aloft like a mist. The country does
not, indeed, look inviting here. It is reputed to be
the most barren tract in all New Zealand. Indeed,
as the reader will find if he follows me, a suspicion
sometimes steals across the mind of the observant
traveller that, on the whole, perhaps the fertility of
the country has been overrated.

Farther inland a good breed of Herefords has
been introduced ; and at North Cape, a few miles
to the eastward, many sheep can from the steamer
be seen browsing on the scanty pastures.

The chief industry on this part of the island, is
the digging for kauri gum by the natives, and by
scattered parties of bushmen. The diggers probe
in the likely places for the buried deposits of the
amber-like gum with long slender spears. In
Auckland great warehouses are filled with huge
blocks of this unearthed treasure. It looks just
like clouded amber, and a lively foreign trade is
done with the steamer passengers in trinkets made
from it.

The North Cape presents a rugged, scarred,
weather-beaten front. It is capped by a thin
layer of red earth, and in the precipitous gullies,

Our New Zealand Cousins, 5

a patchy undergrowth of stunted bushes main-
tains a precarious foothold. In one ravine, the
smoke from a bush-fire rolls lazily up in murky
columns, till the gale, catching it as it emerges
from the shelter of the gully, whirls it abroad,
amid the dashing spray and driving rain. Truly
a wild, forbidding, tempestuous coast. And what
awful tragedies have been enacted here in the grim
past ! The red earth looks ominous. It suggests
bloodshed. I had pictured something greener and
fresher-looking. This is not one whit less sombre
than the ordinary Australian coast, with its eternal
fringe of neutral-tinted eucalyptus scrub.

Rounding the Cape we get under the lee of the
island. The steamer glides into a blessed calm,
and wan figures begin to emerge from

That seclusion which a cabin grants ;

and soon we sight Stephenson Island, with its
isolated masses of upstanding rock jutting out into
the sea.

Behind this island lies the harbour of Whanga-
roa, once a noisy, lawless whaling-station. Only
the other day an enormous whale, which had been
harpooned in the Bay of Islands, far to the south,
was secured by the natives in the harbour, and the
sale of the carcase, or rather the products therefrom,
realized iooo/. The port is now, however, quiet
enough. The old whalers lie idly rotting in
Auckland or Hobart harbours. The roving, rol-
licking Jackey Tars belong to Seamen's Unions
now-a-days ; own suburban allotments or steam-

6 Our New Zealand Cousins.

boat shares ; study the law of contracts, and pass
in political economy. To " turn in a dead eye "
is as defunct an accomplishment as dancing a
minuet, and " shiver my timbers " is a phrase of no
meaning, in these days of iron ships and steel
steamers. Some little timber trade is still done
at Whangaroa, and there is a large native settle-
ment, but the roystering days of the whaling in-
dustry are gone, never to return.

There are few lights on this part of the New
Zealand coast, a lack which badly wants supplying.
As I write, there is a gathering of over five hundred
natives assembled at Whangarei, another northern
port, for the purpose of indulging in one of their
famous war-dances. Nothing could more forcibly
mark the difference between these latter days and
the former order of things, when feasts of human
flesh were the accompaniment of these orgies, than
the fact that now this gathering is extensively
advertised. Steamers are specially put on to make
the run, and take up large numbers of curious
sightseers, who throng to see the war-dance, as
they would to any ordinary exhibition. This may
be less romantic from the novel-reader's point of
view, but surely it is well that over the old ruthless
savagery " Ichabod " should be written. 'Tis pity
though, that the lust for fire-water and the vulgar
thirst for beer, should all so easily have formed the
modern substitute for that fierce craving for human
blood, which was wont to rouse the Maori nature
to verge of madness.

All the night, on through the darkness our

O^lr New Zealand Co^ts^ns. 7

good steamer glides swiftly along, and at break of
day we are almost abreast of the approaches to
Auckland, the commercial capital of the North, as
Dunedin is of the South.

In the dim misty greyness of early morn we
crept past the towering bulk of Rangitoto, the
giant sentinel that guards Auckland harbour, and
all hands hurried on deck to get the first glimpse
of the far-famed panorama of beauty that lay
stretched before us. This renowned harbour ranks
in order and loveliness among the " most excellent
of the earth." " See Naples and die," is an oft
quoted saying. Rio has its worshippers. Peerless
Sydney has her liege votaries, whose ardent homage
naught can quench — and yet, in many respects,
Auckland harbour has a beauty of its own, which
in some measure exceeds that of any other spot of
earth I have yet seen.

Its charm seems to me to lie in its wide diversity,
the vastness of its extended embrace. Every
charm of landscape blends together into one mag-
nificent whole. Open sea, land-locked bay, deep
firth, rocky islet, placid expanse of unruffled deep
blue, cloud-capped mountain, wooded height, bosky
dell, villa-crowned ridges, and terrace on terrace of
massive buildings, all can be seen by a single
roving glance from whatever coign of vantage the
beholder may command. For league upon league
the eye may run down the ever-varying configura-
tion of a beautiful coast, the promontories re-
flected in the lapping waters of magnificent bays, till
far out to seaward the Coromandel headlands lie

8 Our New Zealand Cousins.

shimmering in the sun, crowned with fleecy
clouds; and almost hidden in the misty haze of
distance.

Out towards the open sea, the watery void is
broken up and relieved by lovely mountainous
islands, round whose wooded summits the quick
changing clouds chase each other in bewildering
rapidity ; and ever and anon white sails flash
across the ken of vision, or trailing lines of black
smoke from some swift steamer mar for a moment
the clear brilliancy of the azure sky. The cloud-
less blue of the Australian sky has here given
place to the exquisite variety of ever changing hue
and form, which gives such animation to the New
Zealand landscape, and forms one of the chiefest
charms to the visitor from the bigger island.

Yes, Sydney harbour is lovely. But Auckland,
with its wider sweep, its greater diversity and
bolder features, has a beauty of its own which
makes her a not unworthy rival.

In other respects the city presents features which
might well be copied by the great metropolis which
clusters so thickly on the shores of Port Jackson.
For instance, there is here a well-endowed harbour
trust, which has a near prospective income of
close on half a million per annum, and an agita-
tion has even now been commenced in favour of
making the port free in the widest sense. Large
reclamations have been and are being made ;
spacious wharfs run out into deep water. The
reclaimed land is let on fifty years5 leases. So
valuable is it that the trustees get io/. per foot

Our New Zealand Cousins. 9

per annum for the first twenty-five years, and an
enhancement upon that of fifty per cent, for the
second twenty-five years. A handsome custom-
house is now in course of erection. Public baths,
well-ordered and cleanly kept, are extensively
patronized close by. An enormous building is
rapidly going up close to the chief wharf for a
further extension of the meat-freezing industry.
The sea-line is faced with spacious warehouses and
handsome commercial buildings, and, chiefest con-
venience of all, the railway station is being built
within the harbour precincts, and the .locomotive
and the steamer are withia^ neighbourly hail of
each other. Thus there is no waste of time, of
power, or of money, in shipping and discharging
operations.

The shipping facilities in Sydney are a disgrace
to the age, and a reproach to the character of the
New South Wales people. The sanitary state of
the city is even worse than the state of her wharfs
and shipping arrangements. A Harbour Improve-
ment Association has lately been started by private
citizens. All honour and good speed to it.

By contrast with the miserable makeshifts and
primitive arrangements of Sydney, Auckland rises
to the rank of a modern city, while Sydney, by the
comparison, sinks to the level of a mediaeval fishing
village, only she does not even have a decent
supply of fish, which Auckland has.

No good is got by burking unpleasant truths.
He is a false prophet who only " prophesies smooth
things." He is no true journalist or publicist

io .Our New Zealand Cousins.

who cries " Peace, peace," when there is no
peace.

What has been done in Auckland could be al-
most infinitely outdone by Sydney with her greater
wealth and wider commerce. A trust established
in Sydney for the same purposes as the one in
Auckland, would in a few years be enormously
wealthy, and the reputation of the port, and the
public convenience would be a millionfold en-
hanced. The vested interests of a selfish few, into
whose hands the beautiful foreshores of the harbour
have been allowed to fall, and who will do nothing
whatever to move in accordance with the spirit of
the times, cannot for ever be allowed to bar the
way of national progress.

Queen Street is the chief artery of Auckland. It
runs up a natural valley somewhat after the man-
ner of Pitt Street, Sydney, only the street is much
wider, and now that a Building Act is in operation,
very handsome structures are rising on every hand.
Evidences of the old regime are yet apparent in
very unsightly ramshackle verandahs here and
there. I observe several necessary conveniences
for pedestrians at modest intervals. Here again
the Maori city scores a point against the metro-
polis of New South Wales.

During our visit a gum warehouse and bedding
factory took fire. Such is the splendid nature of
the water supply, and the efficiency of the fire
brigades, that in less than thirty minutes from
the first clanging of the great bells the fire was
extinct. Bell towers are a prominent feature in

Our New Zealand Coitsins. i r

all New Zealand towns, and where wooden houses
are the rule, fires, of course, are very frequent.

The magnificent jets of water paled into puny
insignificance the dribbling gouts of our intermit-
tent Sydney supply, and in Auckland the painful
" clank, clank " of the pumps is never heard when
the fire-fiend has to be battled with.

There are two capital, commodious theatres.
We went to hear Remenyi, the famous Hungarian
violinist. The Governor, and Mayor, and coun-
cillors were there. Ostrich feathers seemed the
leading feature in the head-dresses of the ladies.
Gigantic structures of the Queen Anne era were
surmounted by a panoply of feathers that would
have turned a fashionable undertaker green with
envy. These kept nodding time to the magic
sweetness evoked by the gifted violinist ; and the
effect was really ludicrous in the extreme.

One Herr Himmel sang a ballad. The deep
German gutturals rang through the building with
an unmistakable Teutonic twang. A corpulent
civic dignitary sitting behind us, turned to his be-
plumed dowager, and asked very audibly, —

" What's that, Mariar? Is that Hitalian?"

" Lor no, dear ; that's French/' said Maria.
Foreign critics say the English are wofully defi-
cient in modern languages. Perhaps so !

Banks are numerous. The buildings fine. But
the hotels are legion. And yet it is noticeable how
many passers-by wear the blue ribbon. When I
say hotels, I err. Public-houses or drink-shops
there are in abundance, but the bonA-fide first-class

1 2 Our New Zealand Cousins.

family hotels, might be counted on the fingers of a
one-armed soldier.

Gram's hotel is comfortable, clean, quiet, and
the host is obliging, and looks personally after the
welfare of his guests. It is a favourite house with
passengers waiting for the San Francisco steamer,
and tourists generally.

Let no visitor to Auckland omit a trip to North
Shore, and a drive out to Lake Takapuna. The
scenery will amply repay the trouble, although in
the endeavour to reach the lake may be included
a jolting vehicle, a larrikin driver, a pair of jibbing
horses, necessitating a walk up every incline over
rough scoriae or through blinding dust. Truth com-
pels me to add that this was the only occasion on
which I saw a badly-horsed conveyance round
about Auckland. As a rule, the visitor will mark
with delight the grandly developed, robust, well-
fed horses. The trams are served by splendid
animals. The strain is not that of the fast but
slender weeds which are so common about Sydney.
The breed is a mixture of the Suffolk Punch, the
Clydesdale, the Cleveland, with a good dash of the
thoroughbred, and they appear to be generously
fed. In the old war times the Commissariat got
down the very finest stock procurable from Tas-
mania and New South Wales, paying 2OO/. and
even 300/1 for a good mare. They bred for work
and usefulness in these olden times, not for short
races and gambling handicaps, and the result is
seen now in the magnificent chargers and sleek
Samsons which one sees in every conveyance.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 1 3

But to return to the North Shore. The beauties
of land and sea are here displayed with a lavish-
ness and variety that fairly exceed my powers of
description. The houses (many of them exceed-
ingly pretty villas) are all wooden. Bricks are
scarce and dear ; blue stone of a volcanic origin
and more than granite hardness is much used in
the larger public buildings in town. There are few
gardens, and what there are, are scantily supplied
with flowers.

Fruit is abundant all through the North Island.
The apples are really fine, grapes are choice, pears
exquisite ; plums luxuriate ; oranges do not thrive ;
yet tons of fruit are imported from Tasmania, to
the exclusion of the home-grown crops. Growers
here say it does not pay for carriage to put up the
produce of their orchards. Apples in the city are
4<af. or $d. per lb., and yet in the Waikato district
pigs are fed with tons upon tons of the finest
varieties. How is this ? Is it not a complaint in
Sydney also ? Dear fruit in the midst of abun-
dance ? Here is a problem the solution of which
might well attract the philanthropists of our little
Pedlingtons. Nay, the question after all is a
serious one, and worthy of the best solution the
best minds of our community can bring to it.
Freights along the coast for one thing are exces-
sive in N.Z. Other means of communication
and conveyance are scanty, precarious, and expen-
sive.

Surely co-operation might work some reform.
The profits that will alone content the " middle

1 4 Our New Zealand Cousins.

man " are out of all proportion to the benefits he
confers on the patient consumer. It is high time
Australians awaked out of their apathy as regards
their fruit trade.

So, too, with fish supplies. Schnapper here
(I am speaking of Auckland) can be caught, down
by the Thames estuaries and bays, in thousands ;
delicious flounders and flatfish abound, mullet
teem, other kinds swarm. And yet it is either a
famine or a feast. At times none can be had.
Wellington, I am told, is the best supplied with
fish of any city in Australasia, and the fishmonger's
shop and the fisherman's calling are recognized as
being of equal importance with the butcher's or
baker's. Room surely for a new departure in our
fish supply.

Butcher meat, too, as I am on gastronomic
topics, demands a word. The beef and mutton in
Auckland are delicious. Immeasurably superior
to the supplies common to Sydney — -and the
sausages ! My mouth waters yet as I recall their
succulent juiciness and exquisite flavour. The
ordinary Australian sausage is a B.M. — a bag of
mystery — so long as there is plenty of thyme and
sage ; it matters not how old, how black, how dry,
and how unsavoury the other ingredients may be.

The butchers' shops in Auckland are better than
anything of the kind I had yet seen in the colonies,
and it should be remembered, too, that the climate
is more favourable to the trade than the sweltering
heat of New South Wales.

The shops are lofty, well ventilated, and scru-

Our Neiv Zealand Cousins. 1 5

pulously clean. All interior arrangements of hooks,
blocks, and gear have been evidently specially de-
signed to suit the requirements of the meat trade.
The chief and crowning excellence, however, which
is well worthy of record for Sydney readers, was
this. All the walls were inlaid with glazed
encaustic tiles. The counters were cool marble
slabs. The windows were furnished with porcelain
plates, and the whole looked so temptingly clean
and cool that I could not help wishing some of our
Sydney " knights of the cleaver " would take a
lesson, and be fired with a noble emulation to even
outvie the Auckland butchers in obeying the
dictates of common sense and the instincts of
cleanliness.

But to get once more back to the North Shore.
Lake Takapuna is a lovely circular sheet, evi-
dently the crater of an extinct volcano. The black
rugged masses of scoriae all around leave no doubt
as to its volcanic antecedents. There are a few
tame swans on the lake. Lovely ferns, orchids,
and the crimson flowering pohutaukaua, or Christ-
mas bush of New Zealand, fringe the steep banks,
and the scene is one of perfect loveliness. . The
Maoris tell the legend that as Tahapuna sank and
filled with water, so Rangitoto, the steep mountain
in the bay, arose. The energy and enterprise of
the Aucklanders are here well exemplified in the use
they make of the telephone. They have carried it
across the harbour in submarine pipes, and a lady on
North Shore can order her groceries and joints
in town without going more than a few steps.

1 6 Our New Zealand Co2isins.

Terrific gales occasionally rage here. We saw
the devastating traces of one such, in myriads of
half-prostrate young pine-trees. The sides which
had been exposed to the gale were withered and
shrivelled as if smitten by fire. Pines have been
very extensively planted all round Auckland.
They form quite a feature in the scenery, and seem
to thrive luxuriantly in the volcanic soil. So, alas,,
do briars and the Scotch whins or furze, which
some enthusiastic idiot has at some former
time introduced from a mistaken sentiment of
patriotism.

The furze, with its aggressive spikes and golden
blossom, is becoming ubiquitous all over New Zea-
land, and promises to become as great a nuisance,
in its way, as the briars of the west, or the prickly
pear of the north, are in New South Wales.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 1 7

CHAPTER II.

Auckland continued — Mount Eden the chief lion — View
from the mountain — Conveyances — Start for the hot
lakes — Railways — The Waikato Hills — The ubiquitous
manouka scrub — Wayside villages — A Maori belle—-
The village market — Arrive at Cambridge, the present
terminus.

MOUNT EDEN is of course the lion of Auckland,
after the harbour, but next to these, the most con-
spicuous features in the suburbs, to the stranger
at all events, are the wooden houses, the hawthorn
hedges, and the stone walls made of the scoriae
blocks, which bestrew the ground so thickly.
These stone walls remind one of an upland
Scottish or Irish parish, and the resemblance is
strengthened in places by the appearance of a sod
wall surmounted by a prickly furze hedging. The
ascent up Mount Eden is very steep. A few
clumps of pines have been planted here and there,
and relieve the nakedness of the hill. When near
the summit, you get a view of the deep circular
crater, with its debris of loose boulders in the
centre. Cows graze peacefully now in the still
basin ; and nursemaids, babies, mashers, and
maidens, and all the modern medley of tourists
munch their apples, display their fashions, or sweep

c

1 8 Otir New Zealand Coiisins.

the horizon with field-glasses, from the terraces
erstwhile occupied by cannibals. Here and there
a heap of glistening white pipi shells marks the
spot where the tattooed warriors, when " long pig 7>
was scarce, regaled themselves on the shell-fish,
laboriously carried up the mount, from the adjacent
shores by the comely dark-skinned women, in the
brief intervals of peace between the tribes.

The scene from Mount Eden is surely unique
in its diverse beauty and grandeur. Here may be
seen at one glance, the tide at its flow on the
eastern shore — laving the rugged fringe of Rangi-
toto, the bold bluffs of the north shore, and the
terraced sweep of the mainland — and lapping
lazily the massive timbers of the wharves, where
the big ships and steamers are busy discharging
their multifarious cargo. On the western side the
tide is at the same identical moment receding
through the tortuous channels of Manukau har-
bour, leaving the broad mud flats, with their rocky
environment, reeking and steaming — bare, black,
and ugly — under the rays of the afternoon sun.
The suburbs glow with beauty, as the light gleams
oh bright roofs, snug gardens, young plantations,
and dark green masses of pine and cedar. The
domain below, with its wild entanglement of
natural bush, fern-trees and dark undergrowth,
looks cosy, cool, and refreshing ; everywhere is the
glint of water, relieving the tumbled masses of
scoriae, the circling outlines of extinct volcanoes,
and fortuitous jumble of buildings. The back-
ground is filled in by bold outlines of ragged peak

Our New Zealand Cousins. 1 9

and crested hill, amid the recesses of which, masses
of bush and forest show as great black patches ;
and the cloudlets trail, like the shreds of a great
veil, which the merry western breeze has torn and
riven to tatters.

As one withdraws the eye from the marvellously
diversified panorama of loveliness, and looks into
the yawning barren ugliness of the burnt-up focus
of bygone fire at his feet, the abrupt transition is
one of those rare experiences which form a land-
mark in memory, and the scene is imprinted with
photographic fidelity on the recollection, never
again to be effaced.

Cab fares are absurdly high in Auckland. Five
shillings an hour is rather too much to pay for the
luxury of being jostled about in a vehicle, which,
whatever the horse may be, is decidedly inferior in
comfort and cleanliness to an average Sydney
cab.

" The nimble sixpence " is thought more of here
than in Sydney. Children will even accept a
penny with an approach to gratitude, and not
spurn it with the supercilious scorn of a Sydney
gamin. Street porters, each with his hand lorry,
wait at the corners of the streets to transport
parcels or baggage, and I found them a decided
convenience — civil in their conversation, and
reasonable in their charges. If you want your
luggage taken to the steamer, samples taken round
to a customer, or any little carrying job done, one
of these porters will save you the expense of a cab
or van, and this class might well be introduced into

C 2

2O Our New Zealand Cousins.

Sydney. Street commissionaires would be well
patronized, and the municipality might take the
hint and issue licences. The horse trams are much
patronized, and are, in my humble opinion, in-
finitely more suited to the busy streets of a city,
than the snorting, noisy, smoking, gritty abomina-
tions which monopolize the right of way in the
busiest streets of the New South Wales capital.
But enough of Auckland.

Taking advantage of the Easter holidays, we
took out our excursion tickets for the hot lakes,
and started on the Wednesday — a merry party of
six.

•The railway runs on the narrow gauge, but the
carnages are comfortable and clean, and are of
local manufacture. The employes were not re-
markable for either smartness or civility— at least
such was my experience. Doubtless travellers are
often exacting and inconsiderate ; but tact, temper,
and urbanity are as essential to a railway porter
as to a policeman ; and it is after all just as easy
to be courteous to a stranger, as rude. The
appearance and behaviour of the railway officials
here, struck me as being slovenly and boorish.
They seemed to deem it incumbent on them, with
luggage especially, to completely outvie the
ordinary coasting steamboat sailor in the vigour
of their haulage and the destructiveness of their
handling. The guards I do not include in this
adverse criticism, as we found them polite, active,
and neat.

The railway stations do not strike one as being

Our New Zealand Cousins. 2 1

elaborately ornate. In fact they err too much on
the other side, and are painfully bare and devoid
of comfort. The platforms, for instance, need not
be all sand and dust and grit, however much from
the draper's and cobbler's point of view these may
be desirable concomitants. Surely, too, a few
benches for tired intending passengers, and a
decent awning or some shelter from the elements,
might be provided. The line is not fenced, and so
the engines are all provided with ponderous cow-
catchers. Some attempts have been made, here
and there, to plant shade-trees along the track ;
but no attempt at gardening has as yet seemingly
been attempted by station-masters. Judging from
the published time-tables I should think they had
plenty of time on their hands to devote a little
attention in this direction.

Around Auckland, the country seems pretty
populous. Farm-houses are frequent, villas numer-
ous, cultivation common, and every now and then
a modest little spire marks the site of a snug
little village. The strata we note in the cuttings
is ridgy, wavy, and streaked like a ribbon, show-
ing the volcanic influences that have been at
work.

Nearing the Waikato Hills, whose broken out-
lines loom out dark on the horizon ; we pass
great rich flats, with a black, peaty soil ; and here,
draining and trenching is being extensively carried
on. Where the land lies higher, nothing is to be
seen but league upon league of bracken and ma-
nouka, or ti-tree scrub. This is as characteristic of

22 Our New Zealand Cousins.

all northern New Zealand scenery as gum-trees are
of Australia, or heather of the Scottish Highlands.
The perpetual unbroken stretch of dun brown or
green fern soon grows very monotonous. In all
the swamps, flax and green sedge (the raupo of
the natives) form an agreeable contrast to the
eternal ferns.

In places, black tracts show where the fern has
been burned down, and in many a distant valley
and on the flanks of all the hills we see the smoke
of fires, where the annual autumn burning is even
now being proceeded with. The cattle are fat and
sleek. The sheep, compared with the ordinary
Australian " muttons," look gigantic. At one
village we see a rustic mill, with its water-wheel
busily revolving, and the water splashing from
its glistening blades. It is the first water-mill we
have seen for years. Clear water and foaming
rivulets, plashing over black rocks ; still brooks,
gleaming from a sedgy margin ; or small still lakes,
glistening like jewels in some emerald setting, all
testify to the fact that here Nature is kinder than
with us in drought-haunted Australia.

At Mercer, which is a tidy compact village with
wide streets, we stop for lunch, and see our first
batch of Maoris, dressed in gaudy prints and
blankets. Every woman has a child a-straddle
on her back, and a short black pipe in her mouth.
The men look awkward, shambling, and out of
place in their ill-fitting European garments.

Here, the strong Waikato flows with a peaceful,
sluggish-looking current. Deceptive enough this,

Our New Zealand Cousins. 23

as it is in reality swift and full of eddies and under-
tows, which make it dangerous to bathers. This
most beautiful river we keep with us now all the
way up to Cambridge, getting an occasional glimpse
of its pure free current as the banks here and there
open, while we pursue our onward course.

At Huntley. there are two coal-mines, with great
beds of burning refuse ; lines of rail and staiths on
the river for the trucks. A small river steamer is
here loading. The scene suggests what Newcastle
must have been in its very early days.

An irate Irishwoman now affords amusement to
the passengers by opening out on the colliery
doctor, for some real or imaginary dereliction of
duty. She stormed in orthodox virago fashion,
and the poor disciple of Galen meekly had to bow
before the storm of Celtic wrath. If I might
interpret the glitter in his eye, and the flush on his
wrinkled cheek, however, I would say that if ever
that Irishwoman chances to be in need of his
medical services, she may have to undergo about
the very liveliest time that all the occult resources
of the pharmacopoeia are capable of producing.

Note this young, nice-looking Maori girl. What
a " get up ! " Man's hat, with feathers of sorts,
Scotch shawl of the " dambrod " pattern, and the
colours such as we see in early prints of Joseph
when dressed in his historical coat. A vivid
green scarf, pinchbeck brooch as big as a highland
targe, flaming red petticoat, and high-heeled
boots, complete the bizarre costume. And yet
the colours, loud and outre as they are, seem to

24 Our New Zealand Cousins.

suit the soft, warm complexion, the black hair,
gleaming teeth, and lustrous .eyes of the dusky
maiden.

At a small village, with an unpronounceable
native name, where the Waipa mingles its pel-
lucid stream with the blue Waikato, we see the
remains of an ancient Maori burying-place. It
is market-day here. Crowds of stalwart lads
career madly up and down on horseback, chasing
unruly mobs of bellowing cattle to and fro. Sub-
stantial-lookingfarmers and dealers are congregated
round the chief hotel. A busy hum and general
bustle bespeak active business ; and the neat
cottages peeping from clumps of ash, elm, plane,
and oak, surrounded with gardens ; and the bright,
clear river sparkling beside us, all carry our thoughts
back to the mother country ; and we could easily
fancy we were again at a village fair in dear old
England.

Now we are entering on the famous Waikato
pastures. The cattle would delight the eye of a
farmer. Cheese-making is here a flourishing in-
dustry. The people all seem healthy, happy, and
well-to-do. The air is exhilarating ; our spirits
rise, our chests expand ; and as the train rolls into
Cambridge, our halting-place for the night, we
feel hungry enough to eat a tailor stuffed with
needles.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 25

CHAPTER III.

Cambridge — Mixture of races — Our Jehu, Harry — The
Waikato river — Novel sheep feed — The Waikato ter-
races— A town of one building — A dangerous pass —
The lonely lovely bush — First glimpse of Rotorua —
Ohinemutu — Steams and stenches — The primitive cook-
ing-pot— Striking contrasts — Wailing for the dead — An
artless beggar " for the plate " — The baths — Whacka-
rewarewa — A Maori larder — Volcanic marvels — Sub-
terranean activity — Barter — The road maintenance man
— Forest wealth — The track of the destroyer — The Blue
Lake — Mussel-shell Lake — Wairoa village — Kate the
guide — McRae's comfortable home.

AT Cambridge there is a commodious hotel kept
by Mr. Gillett. In the big garden behind the
house I came upon many old friends — the dear
wee modest daisy, sweetwilliam, violets, old-
fashioned roses, stocks, primroses, and all the
favourites of an English garden — gooseberry
bushes of something like the home proportions,
and cabbages of giant size, all spoke of a cooler
climate than that we had just left. The early
mornings, with the heavy dew begemming every
leaf and blade, and the fresh breeze scattering the
liquid pearls at every puff, are most bracing and
refreshing after the hot, languid Sydney summer.
Cambridge is a neat, though straggling town.
It is fairly in the Maori country, and groups

26 Our New Zealand Cousins.

of gaudily dressed Maoris and half-castes are
everywhere met with. Evidences of the mixture
of race are apparent in the sign-boards. Each
English announcement of the trade or profession
practised inside, is blazoned also with the Maori
equivalent in Roman letters. Owing to the
admirable Maori schools, most of the younger
natives can now read and write very fairly. Law-
yers and land-agents seem to thrive here, judging
from the sign-boards. A flaring placard catches
my eye, bearing witness to the fact that on Easter
Monday, after the sports, there will be a Maori
dance, proceedings to conclude with European
dances. These mixed dances, from all accounts,
are not such as St. Anthony would have pa-
tronized.

Under the care of Harry Kerr, one of the very
nicest, most efficient, and most good-natured of
Jehus it has ever been my good fortune to en-
counter, we take our departure from the hotel in
the sweet, fresh morning, and behind a spanking
team of fine, broad-chested, clean-limbed, well-
matched horses, in a comfortable American coach
hung on leather springs, we merrily rattle through
the quiet little town ; and, turning the corner, we
behold the noble Waikato, spanned by three
bridges, surging and foaming between its high
banks, which are clad with verdure to the water's
edge. The river here is very swift, and really a
regal stream. It boils and hisses and bubbles
along, with a fierce, impatient swoop. Scooping
out a cauldron-like hollow in the rocks here, dash-

Our New Zealand Cousins* 27

ing in impetuous headlong rush upon a jagged
point there, now rolling over on itself, and tumbling
in unrestrained exuberance among the boulders ;
and then with a swift dash, spreading its bosom,
calm and unruffled to the kiss of the sun, as it
leaves the rocky defile, and careers along through
the plain. At the mouth of the gorge a wide basin
is formed by the junction of a mountain stream ;
and here a massive " boom " of great logs, chained
together, is cast across the river. Within the
barrier thus formed, immense quantities of sawn
timber and logs are spinning and curling, chafing
and fretting, as if anxious to escape from durance
and resume their rapid flight down stream.

A strange fodder here takes the place of the
lucerne, to which, as a New South Welshman, I am
more accustomed. Let our coast farmers take a
hint. Along with grasses, turnips are sown.
Cattle, horses, and sheep are turned in to eat down
the crop, bit by bit, when it has attained a good
growth ; and all animals alike seem to thrive and
get fat on the succulent feed thus provided. When
the crop is sufficiently grazed down, a disc harrow
is next put through the field, which brings the
turnip roots to the surface, and the cattle and
sheep are again turned in to regale themselves
afresh. A curious instance of adaptation to cir-
cumstances is given by the sheep here. They
learn in time to paw the earth away from the
turnip roots, and actually eat them out of the soil.
In the black alluvial plains of New South Wales,
too, where wild carrots are a common growth, the

28 Our New Zealand Cousins.

sheep in times of drought will with infinite
patience and care draw the roots from the soil,
and so keep life in their miserable carcases.
And similarly with thistle roots.

Over the river on the right, rise a series of ter-
races, so symmetrically fashioned that it is hard to
believe the river alone originated them. These
are the far-famed Waikato terraces, formed, so
geologists tell us, when all this region was a lake
bed. Between are deep gulches, sunken canyons,
and ravines, with curious cones thrown in here and
there. And over all, at the back, the misty
mountains rear their mysterious heads, while the
river foams along at our feet. It is a lovely scene.
What a river for trout. Harry, however, informs
me that the water is so impregnated with minerals
that fish will not thrive in these streams. The
more's the pity.

Many of these steep conical hills we see,
scattered at intervals over the vast champaign, have
a gaping chasm on one side, where, during some
former fierce cataclysm, the pent up molten lava
must have burst the cindery barrier, and rushed, a
living torrent of fire, into the deep ravines below.
Others bear traces of Maori fortifications, and
each has some story of blood and strife associated
with it.

A long climb, with steep craggy heights to our
left, and the river to the right brings us to the
summit of a fern-covered saddle, and far as the
eye can reach in front, we look across a great
strath or broad valley, all barred and scarred,

Our New Zealand Cousins. 29

disrupted, riven, and tumbled about, into ravines,
terraces, ridges, and conical peaks, showing what
terrific and eccentric forces must have been at
work at some former epoch. We bowl rapidly
along now, crossing numerous clear brooks, their
sparkling current playing amid the vivid green of
the watercress, and forming a grateful contrast to
the dun bracken and manouka all around. In
among the ridges, arc tall groups of tree-ferns,
with enormous fronds radiating gracefully from
their mossy centres. But now, with a cheery
halloa to the horses, who neigh and prick their
ears responsively, with a crack of the whip and
the rattle of hoofs, we pull up at Rose's Hotel, at
Oxford ; and, laden with dust, we descend, shake
ourselves, and are shown into clean cool rooms,
where we make plentiful ablutions, and soon enjoy
a most appetizing and toothsome repast. We
expect from the name to find a pretentious
academic town. Not so, however. The traveller
in the colonies, soon learns to attach mighty little
significance to names. In N.S.W., for instance,
Vegetable Creek is a mining centre with some-
times eight or nine thousand inhabitants, while
the adjacent township of Dundee, consists of two
public-houses, one store, and a few bark-covered
sheds, pig-styes, and a post-office.

The town of Oxford, however, at present, merely
consists of the hotel. It is a well-ordered, com-
fortable town. There is no squabbling, because
there are no neighbours ; and for the same reason,
drainage and other municipal works are all as

30 Our New Zealand Cousins.

perfect as they can make them now-a-days. For
a quiet retreat for an invalid wanting- rest and
fresh air, commend me to Oxford. Mr. Rose is a
frank, genial, hearty host. He looks as if his food
agreed with him, and his beef is the best I have
tasted for twenty years.

The next stage from Oxford is a short one, but
a toilsome. The road winds upwards through
deep cuttings, with great gorges on either side ;
and by-and-by we halt to change horses at a
little collection of huts, on a lonely hillside, while
far below, the concealed river splashes and gurgles
amid a forest of tree-ferns and undergrowth.
Water for the horses is here supplied by a ram-lift
from the river below.

The road on ahead is very narrow, and winds
along the side of a steep hill. There are two
dangers — one, that of falling over the siding down
the almost sheer face of the cliff; the other, that
of landslips from above. After rain, the resident
groom rides daily over the road to see that no
earth-fall has taken place during the period be-
tween his visits. "

What a magnificent view lies here spread out
before us ! To the left is an immense ravine, the
bed of the Waiho river. The sides of the deep valley
are clad in all the inexpressible loveliness of the
New Zealand bush. What an air of mystery
hangs around its deep, dark recesses ! How vivid
are the varied shades of glossy green, lit up by the
passing sunbeam ! What a rare radiance shines
out, from what was but now a gloomy depth, as

O^tr New Zealand Cousins. 3 1

the rapid clouds flit past, and let the sunshafts
dart far into the nooks, where the most exquisite
forms of fern life are "wasting their sweetness."
The defile here is 830 feet deep from where the
coach passes, and on the other side of the narrow
neck of land over which we roll, another equally
deep and equally lovely valley spreads its beauties
before our admiring eyes.

Then we enter the hoary, silent bush, and for
twelve miles we drive through a perfect avenue of
delights. Here is the giant pittosperum : there
the tall totarah. Multitudes of ratas, having coiled
round some fated giant of the forest, with their
Laocoon-like embrace, now rear aloft their bloated
girth ; and all around are ferns, creepers, llianas,
orchids, trailing drapery, exquisite mosses, and
all the bewildering beauty of the indescribable
bush.

For nearly two hours, we wend our entranced
way through this realm of enchantment. Every
revolution of the silent wheels over the soft, yield-
ing, but springy forest-road, reveals some fresh
charm, some rarer vision of sylvan beauty. And
yet it is very still. No sound of bird, no ring of
axe here. All is still, as if under a spell — and in-
sensibly we become hushed and almost awed, as
we look up to the giant height of the mossy pines
and totaras, or peer into the shadowy arcades
where exquisite ferns and creepers trail their leafy
luxuriance over the rotting tree-trunks, as if to
hide the evidences of decay beneath their living
mantle of velvety green.

3 2 Our New Zealand Cousins.

Presently the track widens and the forest gets
thinner. We round a rocky bluff, and there —
before us, far below, in the distance — shimmering
through the tree-boles as if the azure vault had
fallen to earth, we get our first glimpse of
Rotorua.

Mokoia Island in the centre, white cliffs on the
further side, faint curling cloudlets of steam on the
hither shore. There is a general long-drawn sigh,
and then exclamations of pleasure, delight, and
surprise burst from every lip.

We receive a hearty, noisy greeting from a cart-
load of merry Maoris as they drive past, and very
shortly we rattle across the bridge over the hot
steaming creek, and find ourselves at friend Kelly's

Palace Hotel, in far-famed Ohinemutu.

>K * H; * *

Steam everywhere, and an all-pervading sul-
phurous stench, apprise us very forcibly that we
are now in the hot lake country. After a luxu-
rious half-hour spent in the warm natural bath
attached to the hotel, we take a languid stroll down
by the beach, and survey the native settlement.
The evening meal — potatoes and whitebait — is
being cooked. The sound of incessant ebullition
is at first almost awe inspiring. One realizes what
a thin crust alone intervenes between one's shoe
soles and the diabolical seething cauldron beneath.
Naked children are bathing in a deep pool by the
lake. Culinary matrons, gaudily dressed of course,
squat and gossip round the steaming, sputtering
holes, in which their viands are being cooked, and

Our New Zealand Cousins. 33

beguile the time by desperate pulls at black, evil-
smelling cutty-pipes. To a tattooed group sitting
round the great council-hall an English interpreter
is retailing the items of interest from a recently-
arrived newspaper. What a contrast is here ? The
great whare is carved with all sorts of hideous,
grotesque images. Surely, even in the wildest
delirium, or the most dire nightmare, we've never
seen such outrageous effigies. Surmounting a post
used as a flagstaff, is a goggle-eyed monstrosity,
with gaping jaws and lolling blood-red tongue ;
while close by, out nearer the point which forms
the burial-place of the tribe, and was formerly a
fortified pah, stands a neat little English church,
with a pathway of shining white shells ; and one's
thoughts cannot help reverting to the stories of
strife and treachery, and cannibalism, and all the
horrors of pagan cruelty, now happily banished
for ever before the gentle, loving message of the
Cross.

A long-drawn, wailing, dirge-like cry proceeds
from one inclosure. Looking in we see a company
of women, seated in rows beside a tent, crooning
and keening with a strangely weird inflection ;
and peering further, we are soon able to discover
the cause. Beneath the canvas lies a figure
draped in white — so stiff, so rigid. No motion
in those stiff, extended limbs. An old chief,
weeping copious tears, sits beside his dead son,
patting the poor unconscious corpse, with a
curiously pathetic tenderness. The old woman
who officiates as chief mourner, waves a fan back-

D

34 Our New Zealand Cousins.

ward and forward over the poor dead face ; and
as the " keen " rises and falls with its wailing
cadences, we reverently uncover in the presence
of the dead, and recognize the common tie of
humanity, in the grief that comes to all alike.

Next morning (Good Friday) there was a native
service in the little church. One buxom lass, in
garments of rainbow hue, accosts us, wanting
" change for a shilling."

" What for ? " we asked.

" Put sikeepence in plate," she said ; " shillin'
too much." Artless maid !

Another one, more mercenary still, unblushingly
begged for the sixpence itself for the same sacred
purpose. No doubt she had heard of " spoiling
the Egyptians."

I am reminded by this, of a famous old Calcutta
merchant who was no less noted for his great
wealth, than for his niggardliness. Coming out of
church one day, a merry wag, seeing the rupee for
the plate, ostentatiously held between the finger
and thumb of the merchant, and wishing to test
him, tapped him on the shoulder and whispered, —

" I say, S — , can ye lend me a rupee for the plate ?"

" Ou aye," readily responded S — .

Then second thoughts having seemingly inter-
vened, he muttered, —

" It's a' richt, I'll pit it in for ye," which he did,
but my friend narrowly watched him, and saw that
he only put in one rupee for the two. Old S —
doubtless thought the rupee would be credited in
the celestial treasury as his own offering, yet

Our New Zealand Cousins. 35

nevertheless he sent his Durwan, next morning, to
demand repayment from my waggish friend. Old
S — would have possibly found his match in our
simple Maori maiden.

The " tangi," as the funeral feast and ceremony
is called, was now in full swing. The weeping
and wailing were even more demonstrative than
that of the day previous ; but we were told that
the evening would be wound up with a general
gorge, and possibly a drunken spree.

In the church the men sat on one side and the
women on the other. The singing was pleasing,
but peculiar. The strains reminded me somewhat
of India. We went all through the neglected
graveyard. We peeped into many of the little
pent-house receptacles for the dead, arid saw
coffins both big and small, and then after a glorious
bath in the Madame Rachel Fountain down at
Sulphur Point, we lunched, and started for Wairoa.

On this side, the lake is bordered by a great
flat plain, and at Sulphur Point — as it is called —
lies the Government township. The only build-
ings at present are — the Government baths, the
post and telegraph office, a spacious empty hos-
pital, and doctor's and attendants' quarters. The
baths are well arranged, capitally managed, and
every comfort is provided in the shape of towels,
shower-bath, and all the usual accessories of a
modern hydropathic establishment. During our
stay we tried the temper of all the baths. We
found the Priest's bath the warmest and most
relaxing, but for pure unalloyed Sybaritic deli-
D 2

-36 Our New Zealand Cousins.

ciousness the Madame Rachel takes the palm.
The water is alkaline, and makes the skin feel
velvety soft ; and, in short, the sensations are
simply perfectly pleasurable.

On the margin of the plain proceeding towards
Wairoa, at the base of a burnt cindery-looking
pile of scarped cliffs, we see great gouts and
bursts of steam escaping from various centres of
activity, and a white cloud rests over an open
space, which, as the wind ever and anon lifts the
vapoury veil, is found to contain a village, consist-
ing of a few whares and huts, with groups of
natives moving to and fro.

This is the Geyser village of Whackarewarewa
— pronounced Whack-a-reewa-reewa. Crossing a
high wooden bridge, which spans a rapid noisy
stream, we enter the village. The first man we
meet is a tall native attired in the garb of a priest,
with rosary and crucifix round his neck, and he
affably returns our salutation. In some gardens,
bunches of home grown tobacco are hanging to
dry under a thatch of raupo. Behind this hut a
huge dead pig is strung up. It needs little hang-
ing, as, judging from certain sensations, we can
certify that it is high enough already. Peeping
into this zinc-plate-covered larder, we find a col-
lection of scraps that would make a beggar turn
green ; and a great gory boar's head, black and
nasty-looking, stares at us with lack-lustre eyes
from the top of a pile of potatoes. Verily the
Maoris are not dainty feeders, but of this anon.
We have to enter our names in a book, and submit

Oitr New Zealand Cousins. 3 7

to a mild extortion of sundry small coins, and then
a motley cavalcade of children, tattooed old men,
women with infants astride their backs, laughing
girls, and begging half-breeds, escort us to see the
wonders of the place.

What a scene of desolate grandeur ! The back-
ground— of limestone cliffs, with great white seams
and landslips, which look like the marks of old
wounds. Beneath and around a perfect vortex of
most malevolent activity and boiling confusion.
Sputtering pot-holes here, spouting geysers there.
Roaring steam escapes, shrill, whistling fissures.
Hoarse, bellowing fog-horns everywhere. On this
side, fierce ebullition ; on that, a gentle sputtering
and simmering. Here a noiseless steaming, and
there a blast as if Apollyon were bad with catarrh,
and were blowing his nose in a rage; and over all, the
unmistakable odour which popular legend has ever
attributed to the atmosphere of the infernal regions.
The presence of sulphur is further fully betokened
by the beautiful yellow efflorescence and little
caverns of orange crystals round most of the holes.

Here is the great Geyser itself — one of the most
active in this district of incessant volcanic action.
Great swelling volumes of boiling water rush up
fiercely in hissing hot columns. These plash and
tumble madly back, and are again shot forth, and
billow over a white encrusted face of fretted rock,
into a hole of mysterious depth ; and as the steam
is ever and anon wafted aside, the intense blue of
the unfathomed depth is seen like a sapphire set in
an encrustation of whitest marble.

38 Our New Zealand Cousins.

Wonder upon wonder here. We stand on a
thin echoing crust of pumice and silica, with a
raging hell beneath our feet. Steam and boiling
water issue from every chink and cranny, and yet
at the foot of the crested reef — so close that we
could dip our foot into it — flows the purling, plash-
ing stream, so cool, so fresh-looking, with trailing
masses of aquatic weeds, swaying to and fro in the
swift current.

Over the river — what a contrast. If here be
life, brightness, intense activity, what have we
there ? A black, oozy, slimy flat ; sulphurous
steam, too, hangs over the Stygian, quaking bog ;
but instead of azure water, only bubbling, lethargic
mud comes, with a thick, slab mass ; seething, in
horrible suggestiveness of witches' broth and
malignant wizard spells. One could fancy the
flat a fit abode for ghouls, vampires, and evil
spirits. While the living stream, the pure white
and deep blue of the terraces, and lively pools,
might be the chosen abode of spirits of healing
and beneficence. The sound is indescribable.
You hear the thump, thump, as of pent-up engines.
The din confuses you ; and as you hear it gradu-
ally softening in the distance, you begin to realize
what an awful thing is nature, and what an atom
is man.

Let us look for a brief instant at this deep pel-
lucid pool. Clear as is the water, the eye cannot
penetrate far into the unequalled blue of its mys-
terious depths. It is perfectly still. A quivering
steam hovers on its surface. So innocent and in-

Our New Zealand Cousins. 39

viting it looks. And yet it would boil the flesh
from your bones did you but trust yourself to its
siren seductiveness. At one pit mouth close by,
the mephitic breath from below has bleached the
overhanging scrub to a ghastly yellowish white.
It is shudderingly suggestive of grave-clothes.
The marvels are legion. The sensations they
excite I shall not attempt to analyze. It is a
memory to linger with one for a lifetime.

Commerce here has her votaries, however. One
Maori offers us a carved stick for sale. Mistaking
us for a Rothschild, he demands a pound for the
product of his industry, but without a blush even-
tually transfers the stick at a reduction of only
fifty per cent. ; and we are presently thrown into
paroxysms of gratification by the information
which is volunteered by an acid old cynic, that " if
we had on'y bluffed the beggar, we mout a 'ad it
for five bob."

Entering our vehicles again, we sweep once more
through the plain in the direction of the lake, and
crossing the river begin to climb the skirting hills,
by a long, devious, dusty track. Presently we pass
a lonely tombstone, sacred to the memory of a
drunken Maori, who broke his neck by falling from
his horse while returning from a festive party, about
a year ago.

Gazing through a narrow gorge on the right, we
see the long square table-top of steep Horo Horo ;
the intervening champaign being a succession of
those terraces and ravines and cones, so character-
istic of "all the region round about."

4O Our New Zealand Cousins.

This district has not yet " been through the land
court," as is the phraseology of our informant.
The precise ownership is not yet finally deter-
mined. And so, as there is no safe title procurable,
there is no tenancy. This explains what I had
been remarking, namely, the absence of flock or
herd or house or tilled field. And yet, there is
grand pasturage among these hollows. The briar
is fast becoming a dangerous pest here, as in parts
of Australia. The Maoris are too lazy to milk
cows, so they do not keep them. The whole dis-
trict, so far as being made productive goes, is a
sad wilderness — a regrettable waste. It is Good
Friday, and yet here is a road-maintenance
man, hard at work, with his shovel and pick and
barrow.

"What, Jim? workin' on Sunday?" says Joe,
our driver.

" Oh, if I wasn't workin', some blasted cove, wot
wants my billet, 'ud be makin' remarks. They
can't say much if I keeps at it. 'Sides there ain't
much to do here if I was idle, 'cept it might be to
get drunk."

With which philosophical summing-up the old
fellow shovelled away again. What a grim satire
on the resources of modern civilization, and
the brotherly love of the 'orny 'anded to each
other !

Now we enter the cool green bush, with its
pleasant shade, its humid smell, and all the lovely
profusion of its ever-changing forms of vegetable
beauty. Who could ever tire of the glorious bush

Our New Zealand Cousins. 4 1

of this magnificent country ? What a contrast to
the sombre monotony of the Australian forest.

Ferns ! ! ! " Ram ! Ram ! Sita Ram ! ! ! Could
anything be more exquisite ?

Tree fuchsias ! ! As big as gum-trees.

Pittosperum ! ! ! Giants of convoluted shrubbery.

Llianas, and supple-jacks, and creepers ! !
festooning the forest, like boas and pythons of a
new order of creation.

Mosses ! ! Never was carpet woven in loom half
so exquisite.

And here, too, the " trail of the serpent is over
all." The woodcutter is making sad havoc with
this peerless bush. Deep ruts, with ruthlessly
felled shrubbery, and withering branches on either
side, lead away into the bosky dells, where the
mossy giants, with all their adornment of orchid,
and trailing fern, and hoary lichen, shiver under
the fell strokes of the lumber-man, and bow their
stately heads and fall to rise no more. Hence-
forth, for the clean, sappy wood, the odour of red
herring and the smell of sperm candles take the
place of the faint fresh scent of morning in the
dewy glade, where the moss and wild flowers send
up their sweet kisses ; and we can almost fancy
the giant shuddering as the ripping-saw tears at
his vitals, or weeping, as the nails are driven, that
forces him to embrace the oilman's or the chandler's
distasteful wares.

What ho ! What fresh beauty is this awaiting
us ? Here is surely the sweetest, prettiest, little
lake ever sun shone on or wind caressed. It is

42 Our New Zealand Cousins.

the Blue Lake — Tikitapu — home of the dreaded
Taniwha (the Taniwha is the water-kelpie of the
Maoris). How perfectly beautiful looks the lake,
embosomed amid her surrounding craggy hills !
The white gleam of this landslip from the pumice
cliff, contrasts so sharply with the deep sombre
shadow of the wooded dell beside. Here at our
feet is a semi-circular beach of white ashes, with
a lapping fringe of olive-green ripplets ; and on
the lake's clear bosom the breeze raises thousands
of tiny wavelets, that sparkle and flash as if silver
trout were chasing each other in myriads ; while,
at times, a gust comes sweeping through the
ravines, and raises great black bars of shadow on
the face of the waters.

We cross a narrow neck, and there down, down,
eighty feet below, lies another larger and not less
lovely sheet of water, Lake Rotokakahi, or Mussel-
shell Lake. It stretches away before us, a plain
of burnished silver for about four miles. It is
bounded opposite to us by a buttressed, flat-topped
range of steep mountains, along whose base, and
skirting the lake for its entire distance, winds the
road to Taupo and Napier. Away at the far end
lies a small islet, like a waterfowl at rest, and yet
farther away, looking soft in the blue haze of
distance, beyond the low green hills that bound
the farther extreme of Rotokakahi, rises a mighty
crest, beneath whose ample shadow reposes
another, and yet another lake. Words utterly
fail to depict the magic beauty of this wondrous
region.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 43

At our feet, nestling amid willows and fruit
trees, and cheered by the babble of the noisy
brook, lies Wairoa.

What noisy, jabbering crew have we here?
They are dirty, ragged, boisterous, uncivil, rude.
These are the poorest specimens of natives we
have yet seen. Dogs, pigs, children, lads and
lasses, all unite in emulating Babel. They are all
aggressive. They have been spoiled completely
by the tourists taking too much notice of them
and treating them too liberally, and now they are
an unmitigated nuisance.

We were introduced to Kate the famous guide,
recipient of the Humane Society's medal, and quite
a well-known character in the lake country. We
found Kate to be, judging by first impressions, a
gentle, soft-voiced woman, rather deaf, and, if any-
thing, somewhat stupid. One should be cautious
of first impressions.

We are glad at last to escape from the noise into
one of Mrs. McRae's natty, quiet "bedrooms, and
under McRae's hospitable roof we gladly rest for
the night.

Comfort is not the word. McRae's is not an
hotel — it is a home. Could any word convey a
higher appreciation of his princely fare and his
ever wakeful consideration for the comfort of his
guests ?

Hurrah ! the Terraces to-morrow ! ! And now to
sleep.

" To sleep, but not to rest."

44 Our New Zealand Cousins.

CHAPTER IV.

A rude awaking — An enraged Amazon — "Too hot ''for the
thief — We start for the Terraces — Lake Tarawera — A
merry boat's-crew — The Devil's Rock — Native delicacies
— The landing-place — First view of the Terraces —
Beauty indescribable — The great basin empty — Pluto's
foghorn — The majesty of nature — Wonder upon wonder
— The mud cones — Devil's Hole — The Porridge-Pot —
Devil's Wife — Poor Ruakini.

HlLLO ! What's the matter? we hurriedly ex-
claim. It is a little past midnight. The room is
dark, as the moon is just now obscured by a
passing cloud.

Did anybody wake me ? I vow I felt some one
pulling at the bed ? And yet there is apparently
nothing stirring in the room.

Bang ! rattle ! What now ? The bed is vio-
lently tossed to and fro. The walls seem dancing
on all sides. The floor sways and creaks, and
we hear the crash of falling crockery below.
Cocks are crowing. Dogs are barking and
howling. And then all again is still. It is very
mysterious.

A sickly sensation creeps over us. And then it
begins to dawn upon our dumbfoundered senses
that we have just experienced an earthquake.
It was a very sharp one, too, while it lasted. We

Our New Zealand Cousins. 45

felt, in addition to the big shock, no less than
seven other tremors, or distinct quakes, during the
night. Nothing more forcibly or vividly brought
home to us the nature of the country we were now
in. The eerie feeling produced by the shock does
not readily pass away. One lies in a state of
intense expectancy, waiting for the next develop-
ment. I was not frightened ; but I, as well as
others, got a severe headache. This must have
come, I think, from nervous tension. We were
glad when sunrise awoke us from a troubled sleep ;
and you may be sure there was an animated inter-
change of what we thought and how we felt, while
we discussed our morning meal.

A terrific row now, outside ! Is it another
earthquake ? — a murder ?— a rising of the natives ?
What can it be ? We rush to the verandah, and
there, in front of the assembled clan, a stalwart
female paces to and fro, literally foaming with
rage and bristling with electric energy, as she de-
nunciates some one in voluble Maori commination.
What an Amazon ! How she gesticulates ! She
clenches her fist, and strikes it with a whack into
the palm of her other hand. She walks to and fro
with short angry steps, like a savage treading a
war measure ; — she stamps her foot like an angry
charger chafing at restraint. What a torrent of
words ! — what a shrill clamour ! Can this be the
gentle Kate, our debonnaire and soft-voiced guide,
with whom we were so favourably impressed
yesternight ?

It was indeed Kate ; and when we learned the

46 Our New Zealand Cousins.

cause of her fierce indignation we excused her in
our hearts at once. The fact was, Kate had just
discovered that one of the interesting youths of
the hamlet had stolen her watch from her tent,
and, having a shrewd suspicion as to the identity of
the culprit, she was piling the agony on his head
and surely never was there such an oration as
that just so vehemently declaimed by this roused
Pythoness.

Amid interjections, exclamations, soothing en-
treaties, and wild outcries, the torrent of her in-
vective went on, until in sheer physical exhaustion
she was compelled to pause ; and then, turning to
our party, she explained her loss to us in English,
and ever and anon turned round to still further
lash with her scorpion tongue the supposed thief,
who cowered before her like a guilty thing.

" My word ! " says McRae. " If Kate does not
get her watch back, I pity the whole tribe of them.
She rules the roost here when she likes."

The thief seemed to think he had made a bad
job of it too ; for by-and-by Kate found the
watch restored to its wonted position at the head
of her bed, and she soon regained her accustomed
composure.

In the meantime, however, she had certainly
altered our first impressions, and revealed to us an
unsuspected phase in her curiously complex
character.

Kate is really a curiosity. She is a half-blood
— her father having been a Scotchman. She was,
I believe, educated for several years at a school in

Our New Zealand Coiisins. 47

Auckland, but preferred the free unconventional
life of the whare and the bush. At times she
could be conveniently deaf. She professes a very
outspoken contempt for blue ribbonism, and can
put herself outside a sample of whisky with as
much nonchalance as apparent gusto. Not that
she is intemperate ; far from it. We found her
exceedingly attentive and obliging, and she was
particularly nice in her behaviour to one old lady of
the party, who but for Kate's strong guiding arm
would have fared badly during the long day's
sight-seeing. Kate is proud of her Scotch descent,
and never fails to put in her claim to Caledonian
nationality. Altogether, we found her an amus-
ing study. Sophia, the other accredited guide, we
did not see at all. She had gone away on a visit
to some other settlement.

I would fain record my impressions of the
Terraces. I know they have been done to death.
I am aware that words are all too feeble to give a
just estimate of their many-sided wondrous beauty.
And yet they so haunt my imagination ! They so
appeal to my inner consciousness that I must
commit my thoughts about them to paper, and
perchance let my friends share with me, in some
measure, the keen pleasure of the retrospection.

We were fortunate in the weather. It was a
glorious morning when we started. The sun lit up
the long blue arm of Lake Tarawera, on which we
gazed from the top of the steep descent, down
which we scrambled and jumped all full of robust
gaiety and pleasurable expectancy. Marshalled

48 Our New Zealand Cousins.

by Kate, we crowd into the large whaleboat.
There are eleven of us tourists, six brawny rowers,
one crouching native woman and Kate. Altogether
nineteen of a party. With a cheery cry, the
Maoris dip their oars into the blue lake ; and to
the accompaniment of song and chorus and jest,
they pull strongly and steadily for the open lake,
and soon before a spanking breeze we are scudding
merrily along.

" What a day we're having ! " One excitable
punster of our party, in the exuberance of his de-
light, and anxious to show his appreciation of a
good chorus that has just been sung, tosses his hat
high in air ; and, of course, it at once becomes a
sport for the breezes, sails away to leeward, and
soon floats upon the tiny billows.

"Man overboard!" we yell. '"Bout ship!
Man the lifeboat!1' The Maoris grin, the ladies
squeal, the gentlemen roar, and Kate claps her
hands and yells out, " A fine ! a fine ! A bottle of
whisky for the men ! " For the moment we might
have pardonably been mistaken for a small private
lunatic asylum out for a picnic.

Away we go in pursuit of the hat. We have to
haul down the sail, and we lose ten minutes ; but
under the promise of the " Barley Bree," the rowers
strain at the oars, and soon the hat is restored to
the bereaved owner.

On again we go. What a beautiful expanse !
What a vivid green on the steep precipitous banks !
Beautiful coves indent the coast, with here and
there a fringe of sandy beach. Some giant sen-

Our New Zealand Cousins. 49

tinels of gray pumice stand out in lonely isolation
from the steep point of yonder rounded hill. The
truncated cone of Mount Tarawera stands up black
against, us yonder; while Mount Edgecombe, a
very Saul amongst the others, rears his towering
crest far, far away, his base being lost in the curve
of distance.

We pass the Devil's Rock, on which it was cus-
tomary formerly to deposit some offering to pro-
pitiate " Taipo " (the Maori equivalent for Satan)
into giving the votary a fair wind ; the offering
being flowers, twigs of trees, fruit, fish, &c. Kate
suggests that the white folks generally put pennies
on the rock now instead of twigs ; but the surround-
ings, not being favourable to the growth of a
superstitious credulity, we ignore the possibility of
satanic interference in pur affairs, and defy "the
devil and all his works/'

We pull in now to a native settlement, where for
sundry white coin we procure two kits of black
grewsome-looking fresh-water prawns and a kit of
very inferior apples.

Turning a point, with a solitary shag sitting
reflectively on a partly-submerged tree-trunk, we
enter another long arm or gulf, and find it ter-
minates in a marshy flat, with a few huts dumped
down promiscuously on the rising ground at the
back, and a strong running creek bisecting the level
delta ; and on either side white cliffs, draped in
part with ferns, and with steam rising up from
hot springs at their base. On ahead, amid burnt-
looking bleak hummocks, we see more steam

E

50 Our New Zealand Cousins.

clouds, and we are informed, " There lie the Ter-
races ! "

The dream of years is about to be realized.
Hastily disembarking, leaving the weaker and aged
members of the party to be poled up the swift
creek in canoes, we put on our sand-shoes, tramp
along in Indian file through the tall manukau scrub.
Kate's stalwart figure leads the way, with free
swinging gait and elastic tread.

After a walk through the bracken of about a
mile, we top a ridge, and at our feet lies the won-
der of the world that has brought us so far. In
the hollow flows the swift clear stream, up which
we see the Maoris poling the canoes, with our
friends seated very comfortably therein. On the
left glistens the cold lake, steely and still. On the
right gleams Rotomahana, the hot lake, with its
sedgy shallows, its reeking, steaming margin, its two
floating islands, and its winged hosts of waterfowl.

Right in front, spread out like a snowy cloud
dropped from the heavens — rising to its fleecy
frosted source, in the black, burnt bosom of the
hill — billowing over in countless crested cascades
of alabaster-like purity and marble whiteness ; by
terraced gradations, each one a gemmed chalice or
fretted basin of purest white, the famous terraces of
Rotomahana confront us !

We plod over a slushy courtyard as it were, and
then reverently and softly, as if in the precincts of
a sacred shrine, a silence having settled on our
whole party, we mount those pearly stairs of ex-
ceeding loveliness.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 5 1

Each fresh step is a new revelation. We look
above ; all is a glistening, glowing mass of un-
earthly brilliancy. We look down — and who may
describe the ineffable beauty of those translucent
basins of opaline-tinted water ? The blue is like
nothing else " in the heavens above, or the earth
beneath." To what, then, can it be likened ? It
is a colour unique — sui generis — never again to be
forgotten. Lapis lazuli is muddy before it.
Opal, with its iridescence, gleams not so perfectly
soft and lovely. The azure vault of heaven itself
has not the dainty delicacy of that pearly tint.
It is, in a word, exceeding beautiful ; and it
must be seen to be understood. No man can
describe it adequately. Nay, not even Ruskin,
master though he be, could fitly picture it. And
there is not one or two, but tens and twenties of
these chaliced cups. The saucers of the gods,
surely, these ? The tea service of the Grecian
goddesses ? Can you not fancy Venus reposing on
yonder crystalline couch, with its tracery of
marble fretwork, its pearly lace woven by fairy
fingers, dipping her dainty lips to sip the liquid
gems that gleam so soft under the sunbeams ?
Bah ! what need for metaphor ? As I recall the
scene I feel inclined to throw down the pen, and
feel how utterly all endeavour must fail to re-
produce the picture in words.

With a north-east wind blowing, we were

fortunate enough to behold the White Terrace in

one of the rare intervals, when the boiling fount (the

origin of all this pearly overflow) was empty and dry.

E 2

52 Our New Zealand Cousins.

This peculiarity is another of the mysteries of the
place. Why the subterranean springs should have
electric affinities for particular winds, may be known
to Pan ; the fauns and elves and naiads and fairies,
may know all about it, but mortals cannot explain
it. The fact remains — the vast cavity at the top
was empty. We could walk down its frosted
steeps, and gaze into the very throat of the great
geyser itself. The sun had licked dry the steps of
the terraces, and the whiteness was almost too
intense for the human eye. To peer underneath
the curling lip of some of the frosted billows of
stone was a relief, and in the semi-shade — what
fresh revelations of beauty ? Pearly globules,
clusters of gems, delicate lacework, fretted coral,
fluted tracery, crystallized dew, drifted flakes,
curves, webs, cones, prisms, volutes, of immaculate
glory — of whiteness such as no snow could equal
— a creation of unutterable loveliness. An efflo-
rescence of wondrous purity and beauty. It seems
a shame — a sacrilege — to defile such a floor with
common tread. I felt as Moses may have felt in
the Presence itself, when he heard the voice : " Take
thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon
thou standest is holy ground."

And then the contrasts ! Look at this mass of
black rock, uprearing its bulk right from the lip of
the great gleaming crater. The presiding genius
has tried to relieve its uncompromising blackness
by a thick drapery of soft moss and vernal ferns
The same green adornment brightens up the burnt
scorched background of the cliff beyond. How

Our New Zealand Cousins. 53

one wonders to see such delicate fronds growing
with vivid greenness on the very edge of smoulder-
ing clay ; and, to all seeming, thriving beside living
steam from pent-up fires below. And yet we
shortly cease to wonder at anything. Everything
is wonderful ; to such an extent, that the very
capacity for wonder seems to become blunted and
sated with repletion of wonders.

Right at the back of the geyser, having walked
half round the circumference of the great open
basin, we come up to a roaring blow-hole. There
is a noise as if all the din of Pluto's multitudinous
workshops were focussed into this outlet. A swift
current of hot air and attenuated steam comes
screeching forth ; and so strong is the blast that
handfuls of large pebbles, thrown in by Kate, are
sent spinning back, aloft into the air. Spouts of
steam and jets of boiling water flash and flicker,
and spirt and sputter among the white rocks below.
They trickle and trail in glistening splendor over
the incrusted bosses, the tattooed fringes, and the
marble lips of the steep crater, at the back of which}
right under the burning rocks, we are now standing.
We are enveloped in steam. " The fountains of
the deep " are breaking up all around us. It looks '
like a grand cloud of perpetual incense rising up to
the great source of all life and activity, and we feel
as the Psalmist may have felt, and our heart
whispers to us, " Shall not Thy works praise thee,
O God ? "

As the perpetual, ceaseless beat of the throbbing
engines below shakes the earth, we think again of

54 Our New Zealand Cousins.

that apocalyptic vision, and can now realize how
even earthly forces may be joining with spiritual
intelligences, in the never-ending adoration and
ascription ; and with a new significance we think
of the phrase, " They rest not day and night."

Leaving the empty circumference, with its back-
ground of steam and ferns, and spouting gouts of
boiling water, we descend the terraces, seeing the
heavens in every pool ; and in a retired nook to
the left, under an overhanging canopy of scrub, we
come upon three silently overflowing hot wells,
pouring their scalding libations over three crested
structures of great beauty, to which fancy has
given the names of Queen Victoria's Crown
and the Prince of Wales's Crown. The third
Kate appropriates, and calls it Kate's Crown.

Through a leafy arcade we now thread our way.
The ground sounds hollow, and echoes to our
tread. There is a scent of hothouse air, and pull-
ing up the long velvety moss, a tiny steam-escape
follows the roots, which are hot enough to be almost
unpleasant to the touch. Nothing can more vividly
suggest the thinness of the crust on which we gin-
gerly tread. What a forcing-house !

Emerging into the open, we now stand on a
narrow neck of land, with crumbling, burning
rocks all around, on which it would be unsafe to
venture. A deep, black valley, called the Valley of
Death (most appropriate name), lies on the one
hand, and on the other is an agitated pool, in
which, some time ago, a poor woman was scalded
to death.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 55

A little further, and we come to a geyser called
the Steam Engine, with a great spray leaping over
ochreous-looking rocks.

Below is a boiling, hissing Phlegethon. It
rejoices in the appellation of Ngahapu, meaning,
" All the tribes rolled into one." Its hellish ac-
tivity justifies its title. It is one of the most
vigorous geysers of all the district It has
intermittent spasms of activity, during which the
huge column of water spouts up with amazing
force, and the din and commotion are truly in-
fernal. A great column of steam towers aloft, in
ever changing volumes like the " Pillar of cloud
by day." The incessant vibration, and clang, and
pulsing din, go unintermittingly on, and almost
deafen us, as we shudderingly hurry past.

A few more yards bring us to the shore of the
lake — blast-holes here too, on all hands — Takapau,
a boiling cauldron, with countless lesser comrades,
seething and bubbling all around, make us think
that surely here all the witches of the earth are
boiling their deadly porridge " thick and slab."

Through the scrub again. Now we come on a
perfect hecatomb of broken bottles, empty cans,
straw, envelopes, and waste paper. This is humor-
ously named by Kate the Rotomahana Hotel, and
is the place where lunch is usually devoured.

Up a steep, muddy hill now, and at the top we
emerge on the mud flat, where many boiling mud-
holes repeat the phenomena we have already seen,
only substituting liquid boiling mud instead of water.
We look down, and see a seething mass of molten

56 Our New Zealand Cousins.

mud in incessant motion. It rises up in great
circling domes and plastic cupolas, which seethe,
and expand, and swell, and then break with a
lazy, hissing, escape of steam ; and the mass falls
back and collapses, and heaves up and down with
an unctuous horribleness. Sometimes a big spout
rises up nearly to the outside rim of the deep hole,
and then falls back with a sullen, vicious flop, as if
some slimy spirit, there imprisoned, were angry
and baffled at not being able to reach us, and
smirch and scald us.

Here is the Coffee Pot, not inaptly named, if
one looks at the brown liquid, swirling around,
with an oily, dirty scum circling in endless eddies
on the surface.

Behind us, as we glance around, the whole
hillside, for many acres, smokes and steams, and
as the sun is glinting on it, the effect is inde-
scribably lovely, as contrasted with the sullen mud-
holes into which we have been peering. The
light fleecy wreaths of steam take on all sorts of
rainbow tints from the sun, and curl gracefully
aloft, like an army of cobwebs floating across a
lawn on some sunny morning in spring.

There are now many extinct cones in this valley
and yet all the sights and sounds' have a weird,
uncanny suggestiveness. Poke your stick through
the thin crust, and steam issues forth. Every
cranny and fissure is steaming and hot, and the
whole mountain is undoubtedly a hotbed of com-
bustion.

The Devil's Hole, we hear roaring behind these

Our New Zealand Cousins. 5 7

tumbled crags and smouldering cliffs. What a
hoarse gasping ! It sounds indeed as if Apollyon
chained down below was being choked by the dogs
of Cerberus, and that their snarling and his
wrathful choking roar were being listened to by
awe-stricken mortals. The wonders here again
are " legion " — the Green Lake, the gypsum slabs ;
the Porridge- Pot, of which we taste, and exchange
experiences.

One says, " it is acid."

Another says, " it is tasteless."

Yet another, " it is sweet."

Yet one more, " it tastes like ink."

I vow it " tastes like melted slate pencil," and we
all agree that that is about as correct a definition
as we can arrive at. The Maoris, we are told, fre-
quently eat it in large quantities.

We climb next a white rocky eminence, and get
a peep over the lake at the Pink Terraces on the
far side with their circling canopy of steam.

We pass more scaly white efflorescences amid
the scrub, gaze upon another active geyser with an
unspellable name, wonder at the gurly blackness
of " The Ink-Pot " in a state of frantic ebullition,
and again dive into the thick scrub.

Here all is solemnly still. The earth shakes
beneath us. We are walking over vast caverns of
boiling mud and pent-up steam, and sometimes as
we pass a crevice we can hear the boiling waters
swishing and sighing restlessly far, far below.

The Devil's Wife was the next sensation, " and
an angry wife was she," as the old song says.

58 Our New Zealand Cousins.

What a grumbling, spitting, fiendish vixen she
must be, if she is at all like this spuming, growling
hole. Close by is a vast dried-up gulf of slaty
mud, — at least, it was so when we saw it. It is
uneuphemistically named The Bellyache, and at
times we are told the moans and outcries are
supernaturally terrible. It only indulged in one
unearthly groan while we were there ; but that
was enough to startle us all, and make us hurry
from the spot.

There are vast deposits of gypsum and sulphur
here, and possibly as the central fires " slow down "
and cool off, and when the railway comes with its
utilitarian matter-of-fact presence, some speculators
unless restrained will mar the poetry of this spot
of marvels, and turn the glories of the place into
pounds, shillings, and pence.

Here we come to warm caves and terraces
of broad flagstones, where Maoris once lived.
Moko's Cave is a natural Turkish bath, where
I forget how many -generations Kate said were
born and reared. They must have had a hot
time of it. The fires are burning out this side
the hill, surely. Here is a deserted terrace, now
getting cold and moss-grown. Below it, and near
the lake, is a boiling pool of some extent, and of
an exquisite deep blue, in which a poor Maori'nurse-
girl and her charge — a helpless infant — were boiled.
The bodies were never recovered. Did the gnomes
of the hill have a cannibal broth, we wonder ?
The cauldron is named after the poor girl, Ruakini,
and it is forming a white terrace here on a small

Our New Zealand Cousins. 59

scale, as if weaving a shroud for the poor
victim.

It is now, however, getting near lunch-time.
The sun is high in the heavens ; and, turning a
corner, we emerge from the bush on to the terraced
shore of the lake, where already in the hot springs,
the prawns and potatoes are being cooked, and
where our attendant Maoris are waiting, gastro-
nomically expectant for their share of the good
things in the provender baskets. " To what base
uses may we not descend/'

The foregoing descriptions of the hot lakes region, have
been invested with a mournful interest since they were
written, by reason of the awful and sudden eruption at
Wairoa and Rotomahana, on the night of Wednesday, the
9th, and the morning of Thursday the loth June, 1886. In
the Appendix No. II. full extracts are given from the Aus-
tralian papers, and it will be seen what an awful calamity
has taken place.

The loss of life must have been appalling, and scores of
the light-hearted merry Maoris, with whom we came in con-
tact, were swallowed up in the black, blinding, stifling shower
of ashes and volcanic mud. It is said the beautiful Terraces
are gone, and Lake Rotomahana itself, is now a seething,
hissing, quaking morass. The exquisite forest of Tikitapu
lies buried ten feet deep under the deadly hail of fire. The
whole face of the country for leagues around has been com-
pletely changed, so that the record of our summer holiday
will form perhaps a valuable reference to many who wish to
have an accurate description of what were certainly some of
the most marvellous and beautiful natural phenomena on
the face of our globe.

For fuller details I must refer the reader to Appendix II.

60 Our New Zealand Cousins.

CHAPTER V.

Lunch— An ogre— Bush rats — Kate's "familiar" — The Pink
Terraces — Sacrilegious scribblers — Nature's masterpiece
— Words too tame for such a sight— A Sybarite's bath
— Back to Wairoa — The waterfall — Fern hunting —
Adieu to Wairoa.

OUR appetites whetted by the long walk, excited
into abnormal gastronomic activity by the fragrant
smell of the boiled prawns and smoking potatoes,
just withdrawn from the hot spring by the Maori
cook, and by the sight of the cool long-necked
bottles and tempting viands, which McRae's kind
forethought had provided for our delectation, we
were soon very busily engaged indeed. The clink
of glass, the clatter of knives and forks, and the
gentle gurgling of wine, all formed a melodious
accompaniment to the soft lapping of the lake
against the hollow canoes, and the dreamy gurgita-
tion of the bubbling hot springs, beside which we
ate in supreme enjoyment, and for a while in almost
unbroken silence. Our appetites were whetted, I
have said, and yet before the efforts of that old
Maori chief and his henchmen the most valiant
attempts of the best trencherman amongst us were
as nothing. The chief himself, tattooed de rigimir,
and with ugly black and yellow fangs like a wolfs,

Our New Zealand Co^lsins. 6 1

was not above the seduction of a glass of foaming
stout ; but to see the way he demolished prawns
was "a caution to snakes." He kept one boy
doing nothing else, but stripping these Crustacea of
their outer integument for him ; and, without salt,
he swallowed dozen after dozen with a calm pla-
cidity which could only have been begotten of
constant practice. Our punning hero of the hat
episode vainly tried to emulate him, though his
efforts were, from a European point of view, by no
means despicable. Still he wasn't "a circum-
stance " to the ogre, as we had christened the
absorbing warrior. After we had finished our re-
past, the disjecta membra of the feast were next
collected, and the chief allowed first to select what-
ever took his fancy. He manifested a truly noble
impartiality in his choice. Beef, ham, butter, bread,
sheeps' tongues, potatoes, and marmalade, he mixed
up in one vast incongruous, but evidently to him,
delicious medley ; and then he proceeded to treat
us to an exhibition, beside which the fire-eating
and sword-swallowing tricks of the Arabs were
tame by comparison. After he had gorged himself
till we momentarily expected to see an apopletic
fit, his roving fancy betrayed a penchant for rats !
There were dozens of these rodents running about.
The bush swarmed with them. Great, fat, sleek,
cunning, impudent rogues, attracted by the refuse
from the shellfish, the crumbs, and other " uncon-
sidered trifles," and emboldened by long impunity,
they scampered about quite close to us ; and the
chief, bethinking him that he would not be so near

62 Our New Zealand Cousins.

to our supplies at supper-time, resolved to " make
rats " if he could " while the sun of present oppor-
tunity shone." Seizing an enormous " rung/'
therefore, more like a flagstaff than anything else,
he squatted down behind a clump of bushes, and,
with uplifted weapon, waited for the rats. The
rats, however, were not such fools as to come
within his reach. They skirmished warily round
about and behind him, but never gave him a chance
to show his accuracy of aim, until getting tired of
his position, he threw his weapon at them with a
grunt of disgust, and betook him to the consola-
tions of his pipe.

Kate has a familiar spirit in the shape of a little
French poodle named Tiny, and her solicitude for
Tiny was touching. The poor, wee animal is really
itself a first-rate guide, and from frequently having
been over the ground, it was quite safe to follow
Tiny's lead anywhere. Tiny's devotion to her mis-
tress must be sometimes embarrassing, however ; as
for example, when at Wairoa, Kate's whereabouts,
which she was not anxious should be known, was
discovered by the little animal scratching at the
door of a whare ; and it became demonstrated
thereby, that Kate, having become the proud
possessor of a bottle of whisky, was discussing it
with some of " the fathers of the hamlet " inside.

Great councils and important conventions used
formerly to be held at this luncheon spot. The
shore of the lake for some distance is paved in
rows with broad gypsum flags. On these the
chiefs and clansmen used to squat, enjoying the

O^lr New Zealand Cousins. 63

grateful warmth from the steamy ground below,
and discussing in open council grave affairs of
state. Here were decided the questions of domes-
tic reform and foreign policy. Here was arranged
the plan of campaign for a coming war, or the
provisions of some treaty of alliance. Meantime,
gently simmering in the cooking-holes, under the
eyes of the hungry and expectant senators, would
be great kits of crayfish, potatoes, eels, ducks, or
pig, with the women squatted around in pic-
turesque groupings. And then the council being
over, the feast would follow in true orthodox,
diplomatic style. Thus ever does gastronomy
play an important part in politics. And many a
treaty has been materially modified by a good
dinner.

Now, with much misgiving, the ladies seat them-
selves in the unsteady canoes, and soon we are
being propelled by the well-fed paddlers over the
calm bosom of Rotomahana. Wild fowl of all
sorts are disporting themselves among the reeds
and raupo. The water is quite tepid to the touch.
And here another regal feast of adorable loveliness
awaits us.

The Pink Terraces are, I think, even more
lovely in some respects than the White. The
tints have been sadly marred by the apish
propensities of multitudes of cads and snobs, who
have scrawled and scribbled their ignoble names
on every available inch of space. It is truly
lamentable to see such a painful exhibition of the
awful absence of reverent feeling on the part of so

64 Our New Zealand Cousins.

many. To myself personally, and, I think, to
every member of our party, perhaps bar one — and
his youth might have excused him — the terraces
seemed like some hallowed place, some sacred
spot, in which it was almost profane to speak
aloud. Yet here on the exquisite enamel of these
marvellously beautiful chalices, were vulgar scrawl-
ings, as if all the devil-possessed swine of Gadara
had suddenly been transported bodily' here ; and,
afflicted with the " cacoethes scribendi," had been
impelled by the archfiend himself, to deface
with their hoggish hieroglyphics this masterpiece
of God's handiwork in the great art gallery of
nature.

You have seen those saucer-like fungi growing
from the under surface of some old log in the
forest ?

Such, magnified many thousandfold, is the
shape of the saucer-like formations of the Pink
Terraces. But for the difference in tint, they are,
of course, akin in shape and beauty to the White
Terraces which I have already faintly endeavoured
to describe.

One charm was added here, however, which was
absent from the white vision over the lake. A
perpetual pattering of tiny cascades, ringing like
silver bells, here made melody over all the steam-
ing pink expanse. The sun glinted on the
moving mass of flowing waters, and the hillside
seemed alive with rush of pearls, diamonds, and
gems of refulgent lustre. A cloud steals swiftly
over the face of the sky, and the effect is like a

Our New Zealand Cousins. 65

transformation scene in some grand pantomimic
display. Again the sun flashes forth, and the
wind sweeps down on the moving face of the
tinkling rills, and the effects are such as poet, in
his most exalted flights of fancy, never even pic-
tured. One might as well try to paint the phos-
phorescent rush of blazing foam from the prow of
some proud vessel in tropic seas, as to describe the
exquisite effects of colour, motion, light, shade,
and enchanting sound from the Pink Terraces on
such a day as this.

The great circular basin at the top is full to the
brim with water, at boiling-point, of the most ex-
quisite blue. The edges of the iridescent pool,
over which dreamily hangs an ever-shifting cloud
of swaying steam, are of a dainty, delicate pink.
This shades off to a light saffron, or pale straw
colour. Next a yellowish white is reflected from
the snowy reefs which overhang the gulf, and then
the great unfathomed chasm itself, with its deep
azure blue. These jutting reefs of white incrusta-
tions overarch the abyss like icebergs, and project
here and there like masses of honeycomb carved in
purest marble by the skilled artificers of heaven.
At times the soft cloud of swirling steam enwraps
all this from your gaze ; and then coyly, as it were,
the Angel of the Pool draws aside the veil, and
affords a still more ravishing glimpse of the be-
witching beauty that haunts you, takes possession
of your entire being, and almost tempts you to sink
into the embrace of the seductive lava. This is
really no over description. I had that feeling

F

66 Our New Zealand Cozisins.

strongly myself, and it was shared by other mem-
bers of the party. The witchery of this exquisite
bath, albeit it would boil one to rags in an instant,
is such that one feels a strange semi-hysterical
impulse to sink softly in and be at rest.

N.B. — The feeling can be at once dispelled by
dipping one's fingers into the scalding waters. The
cure is instant and effectual.

The floor seems made of pearly sago, and a soft
deposit covers the sides and bottom of the bath-
ing pools, which feels grateful to the naked touch
of our pliant limbs, as we roll lazily about in Sy-
baritic enjoyment. The baths are, of course, a
little lower down the terrace, and you can have
every degree of warmth, as you shift your posi-
tion higher up or lower down. They are quite
hidden from the view of any one at the edge of
the lake, and thus we waited till the ladies had
had their bath, and then we fairly revelled in the
delicious sensations, and would have possibly re-
mained there for hours, had not Kate, with sten-
torian voice, summoned us to hasten, as the day
was drawing in to its close.

A day surely to be marked with a white stone
in the calendar of one's life. The remembrance
of these marvels will haunt me to my dying
hour.

The swift return down the impulsive creek, with
its fern-clad banks, thermal springs, scuttling wild
ducks, and the skilled steering of our bronzed and
tattooed Maoris were all very enjoyable ; but
during all the long row home, the disembarkation

Our New Zealand Cousins. 67

in the dark, and toilsome climb up the steep hill,
we were silent and reflective — for the spell of the
wonders we had been privileged to behold was
still deep upon us — and even the most unthinking
of our party were calmed into quietude by the near
remembrance of the visions of this ever-memorable
day.

As if Nature were determined to leave out no
element of the weird wonders of her working in
this region of mystery and marvel, we were visited
again, after we had retired for the night, with a
succession of earthquakes. There was a mighty
tremor and shaking, as if of some chained giant
beneath, turning uneasily in his sleep.

The pale, cold moon had climbed the vault of
night, and looked down serenely upon the turbu-
lent desolation of this region of fire and vaporous
turmoil ; and as I resought my pillow my feelings
were again those of the Psalmist : — " What is man,
that Thou art mindful of him ? " " Wonderful are
Thy works, Almighty God. The whole earth is
full of Thy wonders."

Next day, being Sunday, was devoted to quiet
rest and curious observation of the many quaint
phases of native life in the village. Wairoa is the
site of an old mission, and there is a picturesque
little church and a parsonage close by. Morning
service was held in the church, and we noted the
English hedges and trees, the mischievous briars,
and myriads of tiny wild strawberry plants growing
all around in rich luxuriance, evidence of the
efforts of the early missionaries to bestow not only
F 2

68 Our New Zealand Cousins.

spiritual but temporal benefits on the savage
populations amongst whom their lot had been cast.
After a sumptuous repast at Mr. McRae's hospi-
table board, we proceeded under his guidance to
view the waterfall at the head of the declivity which
leads to Lake Tarawera. The surplus waters from
Lake Rotokakahi here form a considerable stream,
and now commence their headlong, leaping rush
down the steep descent. Cautiously descending
by a rugged pathway amid the most bewildering
varieties of fern life, and past lichen-covered
rocks and mossy tree-trunks, with all the forest
wealth of creeper, trailing vine, rustling foliage,
and swaying branches around us, we suddenly
come in sight of the stream plunging in one sheer
unbroken leap from what seems a nest of ferns and
foliage high up in the verdant cliffs above us. The
white gleam of the waterfall lightens up the defile
with a rare beauty. Halfway down the cliff there
is a ledge of glistening rocks — glistening not less
with the tossing spray than with the vivid glossy
green of ferns and mosses, and trailing water-plants.
Magnificent tree-ferns, with the under surface of
their fronds gleaming like silver, spread their
graceful arms over the dancing waters. The
hurrying stream frets madly among the restraining
rocks and gushing noisily into eddying hollows,
leaping madly over barriers, tossing high in broken
spray here, or frantically shooting there in a clear
amber-coloured volume, speeds at last exultantly
by a series of bounds from ledge to ledge, and dis-
appears in the shades below.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 69

There are several imps of Maoris with us hunting
for ferns ; and these, with their ringing shouts, the
plashing jets, the surging boom of the big fall, the
sheets of spray lit up by the sun into all sorts of
rainbow glories, form a scene of joyous life in vivid
contrast to the weird, eerie wonders of yesterday.
Our spirits are elated. There is a constant din
here, too ; but how different to the subterranean
noises of the geysers and mud-holes. There is
also perpetual motion here, but how unlike the
agonized struggling of the boiling waters of the
Terraces. Here all is joyous, radiant, expressive
of life and freedom ; and all the elements of
mystery and the scorching breath of fires are
utterly absent.

Retracing our steps with our spoil of ferns, we
find the coach for Ohinemutu awaiting us ; and
amid the kindly adieus of Kate and the McRaes,
the piping bark of Tiny, and the shrill chorus of
the noisy natives, we bid adieu to Wairoa, having
laid in pleasant recollections that will never fade,
and with memories of such varied and marvellous
natural phenomena, as I have very inadequately
endeavoured to describe.

70 Our New Zealand Cousins.

CHAPTER VI.

Traits of native character — The ivharepuni or common
dormitory — The processes of civilization — Foul feeding
— Causes of disease — Attempts at reform in social cus-
toms— The primitive carving-knife — The Hau-Haus —
The Urewera country, the Tyrol of New Zealand —
Captain Mair's description of the hillmen — The Ure-
wera women — Some queer facts — Extraordinary pigs—
A -whimsical scene — Then and now, a sharp contrast
— A stirring episode of the old war — Snapping of the
old links — A Maori chief's letter.

ONE of the most pleasing and prominent traits of
the Maori character seems to be their hospitality.
All authorities agree on this. My own observa-
tions would have led me to the same conclusion.
At every village or native resort we have visited,
we have had ample evidence that they are a
hospitable people. The chief edifice in each village
is the wharepuni, literally the common sleeping-
place. It is generally adorned with much carved
work of the usual grotesque character. The in-
mates, which may include half the village, guests,
dogs, and even pigs and fowls, lie on either side of
a mud passage, each human individual, at any rate,
on his or her separate raupo mat, and each
enveloped in his or her blanket. Old men and
maidens, young men and matrons, alike woo the
embraces of Morpheus, indiscriminately mixed and

Our New Zealand Cousins. 7 1

huddled together. This, of course, is not con-
ducive to a high standard of either morality or
cleanliness. It is well that, according to all the
accounts recently of the most credible observers,
that things are improving in this respect. Of
recent years there has been a marked departure
from most of the more objectionable old native
customs. Both immorality and drunkenness are
much less common than they were. We saw quite
enough, however, to convince us that there was yet
much room for improvement in both these respects.
In most villages there always seems to be a tangi,
or feast, in course of proceeding. These may be
held at any time. They may be occasions of joy
or sorrow. They are invariably a part of all
funeral rites, and are held as may be dictated by
the financial circumstances of the giver of the feast.
Food is supplied in profusion to all comers, and
gifts given in such unstinted measure that fre-
quently the giver and his family have to endure
actual privation for subsequent months, to make up
for the extravagance of the outlay.

Recent years have seen a much more cordial
friendliness to Europeans engendered than formerly
existed. In the north many road and other con-
tracts for public works are now taken up and
faithfully carried through by natives. Round the
vicinity of Napier and Wanganui, Taranaki, and
other centres, partnerships have been formed
between Maoris and white settlers ; and farms,
sheep-runs, saw-mills, and other industries are
carried on jointly. The old native dress is giving

7 2 Our New Zealand Cousins.

place to the perhaps less graceful habiliments of
modern civilization. The men affect English
fashions not only in boots, ties, coats, and dress
generally, but in the cut of their whiskers, and
their fondness for billiards, horse-racing, whisky,
and other so-called luxuries. We saw dozens of
Maoris at Napier in their buggies, springcarts, and
vehicles of all sorts. A tall belltopper, surmount-
ing a grizzly tattooed visage is quite a common
sight in Auckland or Napier.

The Napier natives were much more pleasant-
looking, and bore a more well-to-do air than those
of Auckland and farther north. At Napier we
saw a substantial farmer-looking Maori purchase
for 1 5.$-., several hideous masses of stale stingaree
or ray fish. It was fly-blown and far advanced in
decomposition in parts, and smelt abominably, yet
he filled a great sack with the disgusting carrion,
and we were told by the vendor that he sold tons
of such rank stuff every week to the inland Maoris,
and that they liked their fish as some Europeans
like their game — rather " high."

This foul feeding is one prolific cause of disease
amongst them. Another one is their foolish dis-
regard of common precautions against changes of
temperature. During the day they dress in
European costume ; but in the evening at the
whare, they revert to the scanty drapery of savage
life, and sit bare-headed and bare- footed round the
fires, and often get a chill.

At Wairoa we saw a whare, in which about
forty of all sexes and ages sleep every night.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 73

Every cranny is shut up. Two fires burn on
the earthen floor. The sleeping-room is shared
with the domestic animals and vermin-infested pets
of the settlement. Every mouth in this huddling
human hive holds a pipe. You can imagine the
atmosphere. You can imagine the effect on even
the hardiest constitution, of a change from this
reeking pest-house to the cold crisp air of a New
Zealand winter night. No wonder pulmonary
diseases and malignant fevers annually claim so
many victims. It seems to be pretty certain that
the race is decreasing, though not so rapidly as is
generally asserted.

A circular has recently been issued by the
Defence Minister, the Hon. J. Ballance, urging
on the chiefs and headmen to use their influence
to alter this mode of life, and to bring about
salutary reforms in the sanitary conditions of
the pahs, and with especial reference to greater
cleanliness in the selection and preparation of food.
This circular has already had a beneficial effect.
At Waitotara, even as I write, preparations are
being made by the local tribes to hold a great
tangi to welcome a distinguished visitor in the
person of Tito Kovvaru. He was the great fight-
ing chief of the war of 1867, but he is now per-
ambulating the coast country with a large follow-
ing, preaching peace and goodwill to the pakeJia,
i.e. white man. As a result of Mr. Ballance's
circular, strange innovations are being made in
the projected feast. A cup, saucer, spoon, knife,
fork, and plate have been provided for each antici-

74 Our New Zealand Cousins.

pated visitor, and the cookery will all be after the
European fashion. The crockery for the different
tribes or kapus will all be of different patterns ;
and when one tries to recall such a feast in the
not very olden time, with its accompaniment
of war-dance and possibly sodden or roasted
human flesh as the piece de resistance, one begins to
realize somewhat the mighty change which is now
apparent in the character as well as in the physical
surroundings of the Maoris after twenty years. At
a banquet given to the Duke of Edinburgh during
hi» visit, some of the big chiefs were seen by my
informant to go into the dining-hall, and each
seizing a goose, or turkey, or other fowl, proceeded
to carve it in fine old savage fashion by dismember-
ing the carcase with teeth and fingers, much as a
wolf would have done. These very men now are
conversant with silk hats, paper collars, Albert
chains, and all the conventionalities of the correct
diner-out.

The change is infinitely to the advantage of the
noble savage, if, with the conventionalities he
could only happily discard the vices and follies of
our modern civilization.

I had the good fortune to meet a band of real
primitive Maoris at Wairoa. They were Hau-
Haus from the Urewera country, and their dress,
weapons, and manners were as yet unmodified by
European contact. Some years ago Government,
for some service or other, had granted the Ure-
weras a sum of 5OOO/., and traders were attracted
to the wild and almost inaccessible mountain

Our New Zealand Cousins. 75

country. McRae gave us an amusing account of
his first trading trip, the recital of which con-
vinced us of two things, viz. that the Hau-Haus
must have been a very simple, primitive people,
with a very hazy idea of values of such goods as
shawls, ribbons, beads, and gewgaws generally.
And also that McRae's ideas of profits, and the
utilization of opportunities of making them, were
quite up to the very highest proverbial Aberdonian
standard.

We were also fortunate enough to meet at
Ohinemutu Captain Mair, who commanded the
Arawa contingent of natives during the big war.
He has been in constant contact, official and
friendly both, with the natives here for about
twenty years, and there are perhaps not half-a-
dozen men in New Zealand who know as much of
native life and manners and customs as he does.
He has one of the finest and most complete
collections of Maori curios extant, and he was
good enough to show us some of his latest acqui-
sitions, and to give us much valuable and inte-
resting information on this subject.

Urewera, says Captain ,Mair, is the Tyrol of
New Zealand. It is not very accessible. There
are two ways of penetrating the country. One
from the coast near Tauranga, the other from the
Lake country. The latter route was traversed
by Captain Mair during a recent visit. The road
is simply the bed of a mountain river called the
Horomanga. It may give some idea of the
nature of the country, when it is known that the

76 Our New Zealand Cousins.

traveller has to cross the bed of this river no less
than one hundred and eighty-six times before he
reaches the uplands.

The Urevveras are lean, lank, active moun-
taineers. They know the country as a bushman
knows the run on which he was born and bred,
and they often make almost incredible journeys
even on the darkest nights, threading the most
dangerous defiles with all the agility and sure-
footedness of a goat. They are industrious, too,
and indeed most of the pretty flax mats and bags
that one sees exposed for sale in shops and among
the Maoris of the plains are made by these moun-
taineers.

They are very excitable and emotional. Indeed,
the Maori race generally are easily moved by any
impulse, and tears and laughter are never hard to
excite, according as their feelings are touched. It
was among the Ureweras that the Hau-Hau fana-
ticism (a strange jumble of Judaistic and Pagan
religious fervour) was developed.

Perhaps the most effective proof of their simple
unconventionality was contained in Captain Mair's
statement that the women make really good
mothers-in-law. They invariably back up the son-
in-law in domestic broils.

The women are springy, good-looking, and hardy
to a degree.

" Do you think the adoption of European dress
has an injurious effect on the health of the Maoris ?"
we asked.

" Undoubtedly. Especially when they adopt

Our New Zealand Cousins. 77

some of the more insane devices of fashion to
cramp and distort the human frame, high-heeled
boots, for instance."

" I can cite one instance of their hardihood,"
said the captain. " One woman, during a pro-
longed and severe march, fell out of the line about
nine miles from the destination of her party, for
the night. Having given birth to a baby, she
walked into the camp the same evening, bearing,
in addition to the burden of her newly-born child,
a load of firewood, and then she went about her
usual work as blithely as if nothing unusual had
occurred."

" Similar instances are on record," I said,
" among the American Indians, and I have known
of like cases among Hindoo coolie women."

" One very strange instance of maternal sym-
pathy," proceeded the captain, " I can vouch for,
as it is within my own personal knowledge. One
old woman in the Urewera country found herself
in milk when her only daughter bore children,
and, as the mother could not, this old grand-
mother suckled her grandchildren herself, and
this occurred six times in succession."

" Is it true," asked one of our party, " as I have
read in some books, that the Maori women suckle
young pigs?"

"A gross libel, sir/' says the captain. "An
offensive traveller's yarn. I have lived among the
Maoris more than most white men, and I never
yet heard of a case of the sort, either as regards
pigs or any other animal. One doctor who came

78 Our New Zealand Cousins.

here, and who firmly believed the truth of the
common rumour, was indeed in danger of coming
to serious bodily harm, because he sent to the
settlement to try and get a Maori foster-nurse for
a little puppy of a favourite breed whose mother
had died."

" Talking of pigs," said our punning friend, " we
saw a one-eared pig in Wairoa, and we were won-
dering if it was the result of accident or what ? "

" Oh, such a sight is common enough in every
Maori village. Indeed you often see pigs quite
earless. The dogs tear or gnaw them off. On
the coast the most extraordinary pigs may be
seen. They would puzzle any naturalist not
acquainted with the cause. The hind-quarters are
quite contracted and atrophied. They are
shrunken away to infantile proportions. You see
a great massive head and front, with brawny chest
and ample shoulders. A pig, indeed, with a front
like 'The Albanian boar,' but with the hind-quarters
of a sucking pig. The quaint-looking brute rears
up like a giraffe. His spine is at an angle of 45°.
At Whakatane I counted sixteen, all in this
condition."

" What is the cause ? "

" It is caused by their eating karaka berries.
The karaka is the New Zealand laurel (Corynocar-
pus laevigata). These berries contain prussic acid,
and seem to act on the lumbar muscles, causing
them to become shrivelled up, as I have de-
scribed."

The toot plant, another very common shrub all

Our New Zealand Cousins. 79

over the islands, has a peculiar effect on cattle or
sheep partaking of it. It induces sudden and
violent vertigo, partial paralysis, and if taken in
any quantity will kill the animal who eats it. A
shrub, with a whitish leaf, called the paper plant,
is also plentiful hereabouts, and horses who eat of
it ofttimes die from the effects.

" There are few deformities among the natives,
are there not ? " we ask.

" Very few, indeed. Scrofula sometimes has its
victims, and is induced by eating rotten maize."

During the whole of our trip we only saw one
hunchbacked native.

As we were leaving Ohinemutu we were spec-
tators of a most whimsical scene. It would have
made the gloomiest anchorite laugh. Ranged in
a row in the middle of the street before the hotel
we saw five native Roman Catholic priests. They
were bareheaded, and deep emotion of some sort
or another was depicted on their countenances. It
might have been indigestion, but it looked like
woe. The verandah of the hotel was crowded by
a miscellaneous horde of semi-civilized savages,
and these now began a slow procession, and one
by one proceeded solemnly but methodically to
rub noses with the five reverend fathers. Many
tears fell, but not a word was spoken. Doubtless
there was pathos in the tearful silent farewell, but
the nose rubbing was too much for our gravity ;
it was really too ludicrous. It was such a scene
as could only be witnessed in Maoriland : the
poor flock affectionately rubbing noses with their

8o Our New Zealand Cousins.

respected shepherds. I have seen many a good-
bye, but never one like this.

The women folk were not permitted to partici-
pate in the nasal osculation. The more modern,
if less effusive, hand-shaking was alone vouchsafed
to them. They gave vent to their feelings, how-
ever, by joining in a wild and noisy saltatory
measure in the verandah, accompanied by hoarse
shouts, snapping of ringers, barking of dogs, and
the crack of whips and rattle of wheels as we
rolled away from Kelly's hospitable abode and
bade a reluctant adieu to the Hot Lakes and their
many marvels.

The drive back through the bush, where we
loaded the coach with the most beautiful mosses
and ferns ; the cheerful chat with Harry ; the first
glimpse of snow on the far distant battlements of
Ruapehu and Tongariro, all, all might be dilated
on if the reader could but share the raptures of the
writer ; but alas ! at secondhand, earth's brightest
joys are apt to pall somewhat, and the most vivid
and graphic narrative cannot bring up the sensations
which make recollections hallowed, and cause the
flush of pleasure to mount the cheek and brow,
as memory recalls the gladness and joy which
have gone, never again, perhaps, to be renewed.

I cannot more fittingly close this chapter of
rather fragmentary gossip on the natives than by
presenting the reader with an account from one of
the local newspapers while referring to the recent
turning of the sod of further railway extension
through the Maori country. It is the most re-

Our New Zealand Cousins. 8 1

markable instance, perhaps, I could give, of the
changes that have taken place in twenty years'
time : —

" The ceremony at Te Awamutu was a pleasing
contrast to the scene enacted within three miles of
that spot during this very month one-and-twenty
years ago. Early in April, when Cameron and
Carey were out, word was brought that some three
or four hundred Maoris were fortifying a position
at Orakau. General Carey at once attacked them
with 1 200 men. They repelled several assaults,
baffled the artillery fire with bundles of fern, com-
pelled our people to proceed by sap, and annoyed
them terribly during the process. Before the
attack they had declared proudly that they would
fight ' for ever, and ever, and ever.' Want of water,
failing ammunition, a reinforcement of 400 British,
and the slaughter wrought by shells and hand-
grenades at last making the position untenable,
they marched out through a gap in the investing
line left open for the artillery fire.

" ' They were in a solid column,' wrote an eye-
witness, 'the women, the children, and the great
chiefs in the centre, and they marched out as cool
and steady as if they were going to church.' A
flanking fire galled them as they marched, a swamp
lay between them and the Punui River, where was
safety. They lost heavily, but many reserved the
last of their ammunition for the swamp. They
fought their way through with undaunted resolution,
and brought away an unconquerable remnant.
Half their number had fallen.

8 2 Our New Zealand Cousins.

" General Carey said, in his despatch, ' It is im-
possible not to admire the heroic courage and de-
votion of the natives in defending themselves so
long against overwhelming numbers. Surrounded
closely on all sides, cut off from their supply of
water, and deprived of all hope of succour, they
resolutely held their ground for more than two
days, and did not abandon their position until
the sap had reached the ditch of their last en-
trenchment.'

" It was one of the finest deeds in New Zealand
story. The man who commanded against us in
this heroic fight was Rewi, who turned the first sod
of the Northern Grand Trunk Railway the other
day, within the view of the ground of the great
exploit. The gathering was not so great in 1885
as in 1864. But its result will be greater and
better. The whirligig of time has given us a most
romantic contrast."

It is sad to reflect that one by one the gallant
old fighting chiefs are fading away. The links
that bound the present age of bustle and progress
to the old era of early settlement are snapping fast,
and soon it will be quite a rarity to see a tattooed
Maori at all. Not long since another of the old
celebrities died at the Kaik, Otago Heads. This
was an old chief named Waitota, or, as he was
more familiarly called, New Zealand Jack. He
had reached the ripe age of ninety-two.

This ancient Maori chief had lived at the Kaik
ever since the arrival of the ship John Wickliffe,
as long ago as the year 1848. Jack had been

Our New Zealand Cousins. 83

quite a traveller in his day, had seen a great deal
of the world, and altogether led a most eventful
life. He was born in the Nelson district, and
always held high rank amongst the natives. On
one occasion he was taken prisoner during a war
between the South and North Island natives, and
was then conveyed to the Bay of Islands. After
his escape from captivity, he shipped on board an
American whaler, and sailed in her to the United
States. Then returning again to New Zealand,
Waitota joined an English ship and made a
voyage to London. He then traded between that
port and China for a time, and ultimately joined
the ship John Wickliffe which brought the first
settlers to Otago under the late Captain Cargill.
Waitota was really a wonderful old fellow, gifted
with a splendid memory, and a fluent tongue ; he
could tell one the most interesting stories about
the early history of various parts of the colony,
and his graphic description of life among the
Maoris in olden times was invariably realistic and
vivid in the extreme. And so, one after another
of the old tribal chiefs are passing away, and with
them many a legend and ancient tradition that it
would be well to have preserved.

After I had written this chapter I came across a
curious document which is of peculiar interest as
showing what some of the more powerful and
observant chiefs themselves think of the surrival of
their race. It is a reply from Tuteao Manihera,
dated from Kawhia in response to the circular
letter of the native minister, Mr. Ballance, before
G 2

84 Our New Zealand Cousins.

alluded to : — " Friend, salutations to you. I have
received your circular letter pointing out how
disease could be averted and the means of preserv-
ing health among the native people of New Zea-
land. Your advice is good. Friend, listen to this.
According to the observation made by the Maori
people as to the decay of their own people, it is
found that formerly, in the days of our ancestors,
the natives mostly died of old age. Their wharesj
their clothing, their food, were very bad. When
they slept at night, they used fire to keep them
warm, and in the day they basked in the sun, its
heat serving them as clothing, and the people
never died off. But the arrival of the Europeans
to these islands brought disease amongst them,
and two complaints made their appearance,
namely, chest complaint and cough. From that
time the numbers of natives began to decline.
Subsequently, another disease called measles, and
now fever has come, and rheumatism. Among
other causes which have been discovered by the
Maoris is that they have been neglected by the
ministers, for the Maoris have a reverence for
sacred things. In former days, when the chief of
any tribe died, before that evil happened, his
approaching death would have been known to all
by the flash of lightning and the roar of thunder
rolling along the mountain-tops of his own district.
No matter where the chief was dying, they always
knew, and would always say that such-and-such a
chief was dying, because that the thunder and
lightning were in such-and-such a place. Friend, the

Our New Zealand Cousins. 85

food and clothing are now both very good, but the
Maoris are dying off rapidly. This is what I have
to say to you : — If you think well of it, let all
vessels that come here be inspected, and if any
kind of sickness be found on board, let them be
ordered to go away, so that we may not catch the
sickness. That is all. I leave it to you to judge
whether it is right or wrong. Enough.
" Your loving friend.

" TUTEAO MANIHERA, Pihopa."

86 Our New Zealand Cousins.

CHAPTER VII.

The s.s. Rotomahana — Opotiki, a military settlement — A
sensible system of emigration— Faults of the Sydney
system — A chance for capital — The town of Gisborne —
Napier — Public spirit — Projected harbour works —
Napier, the Malta of the southern seas —An attenuated
army.

WE left Auckland on a Thursday afternoon in
the Rotomahana. She is seldom driven at her full
speed, as the vibration is somewhat excessive.
The catering is first-class, and the army of stewards
are more than ordinarily attentive and obliging.
They are quite military in the precision of their
movements. At the sound of a handbell they
range themselves in position. At another signal
the covers are removed with a flourish. At each
fresh signal some fresh manoeuvre is repeated with
a precise exactitude which would rejoice the heart
of a rigid disciplinarian, and which, in good sooth,
contributes much to the comfort of the passengers,
and entirely does away with the usual scrambling
and disorder at meals on shipboard.

At the bottom of the deep bay which trends
southward from Auckland's spacious harbour, and
a little to the westward of East Cape, lies the small
military settlement of Opotiki. It was formed
during the war, each settler in exchange for the fee

Our New Zealand Cousins. 87

simple of twenty acres being liable to military
service. Officers got a proportionately larger
grant. This is now a flourishing community of
farmers and wool-growers.

In some of the country papers I noticed the
advertisements of an Immigration Society, which
seemed to me to be capable of a useful develop-
ment in Australia. The idea seemed to be to
encourage lads and lasses to emigrate under the
auspices of the society ; and it undertook to pro-
vide situations for the adventurous youths on their
arrival in the colony. Farmers and settlers, de-
sirous of having helps, were invited to send in
applications to the local agents, or to the head
office ; and, from what I read, it seemed that in
return for board and tuition in all sorts of country
work, giving " colonial experience," in fact, the new
comer was bound down for a term, to his host and
teacher. Doubtless such a system might be
abused. But under careful supervision, and the
direction of genial men of tried probity, would it
not be better than the haphazard no-system which
is pursued in Sydney and elsewhere ? In New
South Wales emigrants are often shamefully
treated. Domestic servants, indeed, are competed
for as if they were prize pedigree stock, but mate
labourers, artisans, and such like, are often turned
adrift without knowing to what part of the country
they should go for employment. A labour bureau
after the American fashion would be a decided
improvement on the present faulty system.

The scheme I refer to as being advertised in the

88 Our New Zealand Cousins.

New Zealand papers seems to havethe meritof being
in accordance with common sense. The Sydney
plan is something as follows : — Here is a young
fellow yearning for an opening in the outer world.
His parents are quite willing* to give him a little
money to start him. They cannot give him much ;
but what little they can scrape together is precious.
It is the hard-earned savings of much self-denial
and laborious years, The youth under our Sydney
system arrives in a strange country after a voyage,
during which he has little kindly supervision, and
may be exposed to many sadly adverse influences.
He is cast out on his own resources, with less
thought bestowed on him, than on the bales of
merchandise that travelled out with him in the
hold of the ship. He soon finds out the value of
his letters of introduction. If he apply to a labour
agency — a perfectly irresponsible medium, be it
remembered — not even licensed by the State, or
supervised in any official way, he may, after con-
siderable expense, succeed in finding employment.
He may ? Yes ! But he may not — most often does
not — till his little hoard has vanished, and he is
no longer in a position to refuse any offer. Then
begins the life in the new world, round which was
centred so many roseate hopes and anticipations.
The best material in the world would feel cast down,
and the lad does not really get the best chance.
How many get wearied and disheartened before the
battle is well begun ? How many sink in the
fight, and are lost after all the brave hopes and
worthy resolves ? But suppose now that on his

Our New Zealand Cousins. 89

arrival he was met and welcomed by some good
cheery inspector of such a society as I am referring
to. His luggage is looked after for him. He is
directed to the lodging guaranteed by the society.
He has a list of vacancies put before him, every
information as to locality, mode of life, prospects
of success in this or that, are clearly and kindly
explained to him. His money, if he have any, is
put safely out at interest for him. His selection is
made. He knows he has some one who will take,
an interest in him. He acquires his experience,
and at the end of two years' time, who can doubt
that he is ready to start a career for himself, and
become a valuable acquisition to the State ?

Methinks there's room for philanthropic, patri-
otic Australians doing something in this direction,
which ought to have been done long ago, which
Dr. Lang (fine old Great Heart !) did do, and
which the societies I speak of are doing now, in
connection with immigration to New Zealand.

I am aware that heartless scoundrels have acted
nefariously under the guise of doing all that I
suggest ; but, under directors of known character,
such a scheme would, I think, be a laudable and
patriotic, and, I verily believe, might be made a
profitable venture. The young immigrants would
be in fact apprenticed. In my humble opinion
there is far too little apprenticeship now-a-days
in every department of human effort.

But a truce to moralizing.

From East Cape to Gisborne, a distance of
about eighty nautical miles, one sees but a wild

go Our New Zealand Cousins.

mountainous country, with a precipitous, rugged
coast. This country is as yet exclusively in the
hands of natives, if we except the two widely-
separated hamlets at Tologa Bay and Waiapu.
There is no farming. The settlers subsist by
their trade, and barter with the natives. The
Maoris themselves cultivate — chiefly maize and
potatoes, and a very little wheat at times. This
they thresh out in primitive style by the aid of
their horses' hoofs. Native wheat in New Zealand
can be known, as native indigo is, in India — by
the dirt in the samples.

There is a large amount of fine forest-land and
many rich fertile valleys inland waiting exploita-
tion, but the coast is very barren. There is a
proposal before the speculative public now to form
a great popular syndicate and acquire this tract of
country by purchase, and then settle it on a com-
munistic plan. Here's a chance for the disciples
of Henry George. I would like to see it tried.

Turning round Gable End Foreland, a sheer
abrupt rocky face like the gable of a mighty house,
a formation, as one can see by the detached ' frag-
ments and hummocks in the sea at its base,
evidently the result of some tremendous land-
slip, we enter Poverty Bay, in the mid circum-
ference of which nestles the neat and thriving little
town of Gisborne.

The roadstead is exposed to south-east gales>
and a poor stranded barque, lying battered and
broken on the strand, with the exultant waves
hungrily licking her riven ribs, proved conclusively

Our New Zealand Cousins. 9 r

how dangerous these can be at times. Even in
this little coastal town, public spirit is ahead of
Sydney in at least one respect. Gisborne can
boast of a Harbour Board. A loan has been
proposed, and plans are already prepared, and
will shortly be proceeded with, for the formation
of a harbour which will render the anchorage safe
at all times. On the substantial wharf are com-
modious sheds. The streets are wide, planted
with shade-trees, and the embankment of the
river is strengthened with flourishing rows of
pollard poplars. The river winds picturesquely
past, skirting the town, and the bridges, footpaths,
&c., were all in capital order. There is a capital
hotel, kept by Wilson, and many really highclass-
looking shops.

A cheese factory has been started here lately,
and the cheese I tasted was exquisite in flavour.
There is a future for Gisborne. The back country
contains magnificent pastures, and the people
seem wideawake. The getting ashore was a
hazardous feat. The sea was high. The steam
launch bobbed about like a cork. The gangway
was slung from the ship, and was now high in
mid-air, now banging on the funnel, or deck, or
cabin hatch of the launch. Luckily we all got
ashore and back to the steamer again without
accident ; and in the evening away we steamed
for Napier.

We arrived off Napier, in Hawke's Bay, very
early, and caught the first launch. The offing
here is too exposed to south-east winds ; but here,

92 Our New Zealand Cousins.

too, the Harbour Board is vigilant and active. It
is indeed pleasant to see the signs of so much
enterprise and public spirit. The sea-shore here
is fringed with shifting banks of shingle, which
has been carried down from the main range by
the swift rivers that tear through the gorges and
denude the hill country, on a scale which is,
perhaps, paralleled nowhere else on the face of our
globe. This moving shingle is carried up by the
currents, which set strongly into the bay, and
many leagues of lagoon which formerly existed
have been silted up by the sea action. In fact,
the bold spit, behind which lies the town itself,
was formerly an island ; and tradition has it, that
Captain Cook sailed between the spit, which was
then called Scinde Island, and the mainland, over
the very spot on which is now built the trim,
bustling town. Port Ahuriri, the merchants'
centre, with all its great wool and produce stores,
and commodious warehouses, is built on reclama-
tions from the marsh. On the shingle bars, in
fact, which have been cast up by the ocean currents.
There is still a great body of water in the lagoon
inland, and this creates a very powerful scour,
sufficient to keep the channel deep and open with
the aid of a dredge, which is constantly at work.
The workmen employed by the Harbour Board are
kept busily engaged raking out and stacking up
the great round water-worn boulders, which the
tides are perpetually casting on the bank at the
mouth of the harbour. Acting under reliable
engineering advice, the board propose to build out

Oar New Zealand Cousins. 93

a long breakwater into the deep, which would turn
the ocean currents, and with the strong natural
scour from the lagoon, would, it is believed, keep
the harbour clear. The plans provide for a
harbour with a depth of thirty-six feet, as the
tides are high here.

It was proposed to expend 300,0007. on this
important work. In Parliament the motion was
scouted. But the Napierites were determined.
The prejudices of party, the divisions of cliques,
the differences of creeds, were all forgotten.
Common cause was made, and after a long and
sore struggle, the bill was passed, and very shortly
the work will be commenced.1 Already there is
an enormous meat-preserving industry flourishing
at Tomoana, where the cleanest, most succulent
dainties of this description are turned out in a style
not excelled anywhere. Large areas are now laid
down in tobacco, and this bids fair to become a
thriving industry. The Hawke's Bay pastures
and crops are famous throughout Australasia.
Cheese factories are being established. The frozen
meat industry has already attained goodly propor-
tions. Much timber is exported, and the port is
bound to become one of very great importance.
Already the annual exports have reached the
imposing total of 6oo,ooo/. More power to the
Harbour Board, say I, and good luck to the
plucky, public-spirited people of Napier.

These same good folks of Napier must surely

1 Since writing, the plans have been adopted, the contracts
let, and the work has been begun.

94 Our Neiv Zealand Cousins.

have sturdy legs. They would need them. The
steeps, and stairs, and climbing walks, and bellows-
bursting paths, beat Edinburgh hollow, and would
even, I think, run Malta hard. The town itself,
with its shops, hotels, public buildings, factories,
&c., is on the flat on the landward side of the spit
or mountainous bluff. The merchants' portion, as
I have said, is at Port Ahuriri on the seaward side
of the spit. But the dwellings of the shopkeepers
and merchants are perched high up on the pre-
cipitous sides of the hilly bluff itself. They are
perched aloft at every conceivable altitude, and
look down at you from towering elevations. They
crown rugged heights. They line precipitous
gullies. They stick like limpets to sheer walls of
rock. Embowered amid artificially made gardens
they peep at you from shady foliage in places
where you would think it hard for the trees them-
selves to keep a foothold. All the villas and houses
are of wood, and really the general effect of this
garden crowned, villa bestrewn, precipitous bluff-
land is very pleasing. There are many deep
cuttings leading to the various ravines, and every-
where wooden steps and winding walks. The
extent must be some thousands of acres, seme few-
miles perhaps, but every spot on which by any
exercise of ingenuity a house could possibly have
been built has been taken advantage of. Napier is,
in fact, the Malta of the southern seas, only with
all the rich accessories of southern vegetation, and
the clear, crisp, glorious freshness of the southern
atmosphere.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 95

There is a very efficient water service. Fire-plugs
at every corner. The streets are clean and the shop
fronts bright, and the municipal watercarts, drawn
by really magnificent horses, actually keep the dust
laid. Think of it, ye city magnates of Sydney !

There is one hansom cab. The driver is neat,
obliging, and moderate in his charges. He hops
down to open the door for his fare. He cheerfully
assists with luggage. In one corner of the cab is a
small hand-bell to draw his attention to the wants
or wishes of his passenger. A neat glass panel is
provided on which to strike matches. A file of
the latest newspapers is ready at your elbow, and in
the remaining corner is a handsome horn-shaped
vase, with. a dainty fresh bouquet of flowers, set in
water, and brightening up the interior.

Think of that, ye long-suffering cab patrons of
Sydney ! Think of it, ye much maligned, cour-
teous, gentlemanly, angelic Bayards ; ye never-to-
be-forgotten cabbies of Sydney.

The Salvation Army at the time of our visit to
Napier had become somewhat attenuated. The
officers outnumbered the rank and file in rather too
much Mexican fashion. The band consisted of
one very uncertain cornet and two blasting — not to
say blasted — instruments, whose scope seemed
limited to a hard-and-fast slavish adherence to one
monotonous sound, emitted in jerks or slabs as it
were. The sound would have suited a jungly boar
with a bad cough, but was not calculated to rouse
any one to religious fervour. Rather the reverse.
The army consisted of three instrumentalists, five

96 Our New Zealand Cousins.

red-coated officers, two poor girls in poke bonnets,
and as far as we could see one rank and file.

To me it was really a. melancholy sight. No-
body seemed to take any notice of them. The row
they made was simply exasperating. Yet they
tootled away, and sang hoarsely their one tune (it
never varied, at least during the four days we heard
them), and perambulated the streets with a
regularity which surely merited more recognition
than it met with.

On Sunday they paraded past the churches,
rather markedly as I thought, and seemed defiant
in their blare and irreverent noise. It seemed out
of harmony with the quiet Sabbath air of the
place. The Presbyterian Church we attended
was crammed. Every seat was uncomfortably full.
The minister, a plain blunt Scot, with an unmis-
takable accent smacking of the Grampians, gave
an eloquent extempore sermon on " The persistent
influence of a good man," which was listened to
with marked attention. The singing, to the
accompaniment of a capital organ well played, was
excellent, and most heartily joined in by the
crowded congregation. The English and Roman
churches seemed just as well attended as the Scotch.
On the whole, my impression of Napier was that
it is a well-ordered, self-respecting, thriving town ;
and the pleasant and profitable Sabbath we spent
there was not the least enjoyable of the many
delightful days we spent during our trip.

In the afternoon we wandered along the shingly
beach under the overhanging cliffs, and watched

Our New Zealand Cousins. 97

the breakers come rolling in. We climbed the flag-
staff-hill, past the asylum and gaol, and had
pointed out to us the quarry and cutting in the hill,
where the prisoners are sensibly forced to work,
and in part pay for their subsistence, instead of
being pampered and kept in easy idleness at the
expense of the ratepayers.

Back to church in the evening, where the con-
gregation was just as dense and as attentive as
in the morning. On Tuesday we bade good-bye
to Napier.

H

98 Our New Zealand Cousins.

CHAPTER VIII.

The famous Hawke's Bay pastures — Hastings — Maori
farmers — Mountain torrents — A backwoods clearing —
Wasteful methods — The forest and hill country — Wood-
ville — The famous Manawatu gorge — A curious ferry —
Palmerston.

WE determined to travel to Wellington by rail
and coach, instead of doing the usual sea passage,
as by so doing we would see more of the country,
and get a better idea of the progress of settle-
ment in the interior.

As soon as one gets beyond the deposits of
shingle on which Napier is built, the train enters
magnificently grassed country. Rich paddocks,
neatly fenced, and stocked with fine flocks and
herds. There are no unsightly stumps such as
may be seen in most Australian pastures. No dead
timber ; no brush fences ; no jungle of briar and
thistle and prickly pear. There are thickly
scattered about, however (as many as three or four
in some paddocks), substantial bulky hayricks.
Bountiful provision for a year of scarcity or a
bleak winter. This is, alas ! a sight that may not
commonly be seen in Australian pastures. All
the paddocks are here laid down in English grasses,
and would, I should imagine, carry possibly six, if

Our New Zealand Cousins. 99

not ten, sheep to the acre ; and such sheep, big
carcases, healthy fleeces. They are mostly a
Romney cross.

After fourteen miles, during which we cross one
or two sluggish rivers, and pass the Tomoana Meat
Preserving Works, which are well worth inspec-
tion, we pull up at Hastings', which is to Napier
pretty much what Parramatta is to Sydney. It
seems a neatly kept, flourishing town. There is
one fine old church with twin turrets. A good
racecourse with new race stand. Hotels, which so
far as outward appearances go, are immeasurably
superior to the usual grog-shops which in an
Australian, country town are dignified with the
misnomer, hotel. The streets are planted with
shade trees ; and rows of poplars and willows,
clumps of firs and alders, and hedges of gorse and
hawthorn, with the broad fertile pastures of home
grasses, give a wonderfully English look to the
place.

After Hastings, the train runs past miles of bare
brown hills, with a long winding valley at their
feet, raupo growing on its swampy bosom, and
there is little of interest for the tourist. The rich
rolling downs, the grasses and clover, the splendid
condition of sheep, cattle, and horses, the air of
rural prosperity, would doubtless have charms for
the pastoralist ; but to the searcher after the
picturesque it is rather monotonous. I indulge
in speculations as to the future, when increasing
population will make the land more valuable ; and
then, doubtless, these myriads of acres, now lying
H 2

ioo Our New Zealand Cousins.

unproductive as raupo swamp, will be drained and
cultivated, and, who knows, may be planted with
rice, maize, tobacco, poppy, oil seeds, ginger,
turmeric, safflower, indigo, and other subtropical
products, for behoof of the swarming villagers.
I feel certain these would grow well here.

At Poukawa, a native village, with a big whare
in the centre, the train stops to shunt. Groups
of native women lie lazily about, very fat,
very dowdy, and very dirty. A troop of school
children, about to proceed by rail, are amusing
themselves by a noisy game at marbles, and have
to break up their game to catch the train, a
disruption which gives rise to a very pretty
quarrel.

The car platforms are very dangerous for child-
ren, having no protecting rails whatever, and
the guard informs me that already several
deaths have occurred from the consequent
accidents.

Still advancing and ascending, the scantily clad
hills begin to draw nearer to the line. At the top
of a long rise, whence looking back we get a
fine view of the raupo swamps and grassy pas-
tures we have left behind us, we emerge into a
lovely valley, with two perfect little gems of lakelets,
one on each side of the line, nestling still and
beautiful under the bright sunshine. Myriads of
ducks scuttle across the placid water as we pass,
but a number of black swans paddle serenely about,
disdaining even to turn their graceful necks to
look at us as we whizz by.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 101

Further on in a hollow to the right, shaded by
drooping willows, is a college for natives. The
buildings of red brick look warm and comfort-
able.

Here now is a noteworthy sight. One sugges-
tive enough of the changes time is working.
What think you ? A native village. No Euro-
peans visible. And yet here is a modern thresh-
ing machine of the most improved pattern, with
all the latest contrivances busily at work, under
native guidance exclusively.

Only twenty years ago, these Maoris were
quite in the mood to wage war with the settlers on
the slightest pretext. Now, the men, in Euro-
pean costume, are busy threshing their grain, in
the most approved modern fashion, and the scene
is one of cheerful, peaceful rural industry.

What a water-favoured land is this. There is
a lakelet in every valley or hollow we pass.
At Kaikora, surrounded by grassy hills and rich
pastures, the school children get out. Evidence of
the popular tastes in amusements is here fur-
nished by the sight of two racecourses — an old
and a new one. We get an insight into the
staple trade here too, as the down trains for the
coast are laden with sawn timber and enormous un-
cut logs, and also grain. The timber is mostly
white pine and rimu.

Is it not short-sighted policy to have no regu-
lations, making it compulsory on timber-getters to
replace by fresh plantings this constant depletion ?
A wise policy would be to have tracts set apart for

1O2 Our New Zealand Cousins.

new forests, and let fresh planting of suitable trees
proceed contemporaneously with the cutting down
of the original forests. Is this being sufficiently
attended to ? I doubt it. I see no signs of it. A
few sparse patches of pine are being planted here
and there, but nothing systematic or on an
adequate scale seems yet to be attempted. But of
this more anon.

The train now crosses the Waipawa River,
and at Waipukura just such another river is
crossed.

These are typical New Zealand mountain
streams. Here we have the explanation of the
enormous shingle drifts on the coast. This is one
of the gigantic operations of Nature, which alters
the face of the earth, fills bays, changes coast-
lines, and puts at defiance the most skilful con-
trivances of the best engineers.

At present the rivers are mere shrunken threads
winding through their desolate valleys of shingle.
But in rainy seasons, or at the melting of the
snow on yonder high serrated ridge of mountains,
the torrents come tearing down the gullies and
carry tons upon tons of silt and shingle and
gravel with them ; and the roar of the stones
and boulders as they roll over each other and
crash onwards in the bed of the flooded stream is
louder than the angry surges on the tempestuous
coast.

Still more trim pastures. A constantly rising,
rolling country. The very perfection of land for
pastures and stock-keeping. Wire fences by the

Our New Zealand Cousins. . 1 03

league. Turnip paddocks, hundred of acres in
extent. Great hayricks here and there, and an
occasional mansion peeping out from its planta-
tions of fir and willow. Alas ! for the sparsity
of humanity. Sheep and cattle cannot equal
men.

Now we leave the undulating downs and grassy
ridges and enter the bush country. We pass
sidings with great logs ready for the trucks.
Wooden tramways lead everywhere into the dense
forest. Here are magnificent wild wooded valleys
and forest-clad gorges ; the silence in their deep
recesses only broken by the ring of the timberman's
axe.

Dashing ever onward and upward, we whizz
across a high spidery wooden bridge on fragile-
looking trestles, spanning a deep ravine, and now
reach Ormondville.

Such a township ; with its acres of blackened
prostrate logs, its giant trunks and stumps, the
clearing fires, the rough backwoodsmen, the lum-
bering bullock teams, and the distant peep of the
wooded hills over the ever-widening circle of
seemingly impervious bush. It recalls the stories
of Fenimore Cooper ; and we could almost fancy
ourselves away in the Indian wilds of Canada.

And so to Danevirke, a neat Danish settlement.
The same prospect here. Man carving a home
out of the heart of the primeval bush, and every-
where the fire completing the work begun by the
axe. The sky is shrouded in gloom from the
smoke. We are told this is a good burning

IO4 Our New Zealand Cousins.

autumn. Last year was wet, but this season fires
have been blazing for weeks, and of the poor forest,
if it were sentient, one might say, " The smoke of
its torment goeth up for ever."

No use seemingly made of the potash ? No
destructive distillation of wood ? No pyroligneous
acids, or wood tars, or oils, made here ? Under
more enlightened processes many most valuable
products might here be utilized and saved. The
whole thing — waste, waste ! Want of capital, want
of knowledge, want of foresight, want of proper
labour, and facilities for marketing. Verily, " the
greater haste which in the end may prove the lesser
speed."

Possibly I am wrong. This process may really
be the cheapest and the best, and the game may
be worth the candle in the long run. And yet my
soul revolts at this wholesale destruction. It was
not so the old planters worked, in my old pio-
neering days, among the forests in India. Char-
coal, tar, potash, oil, resins, gums, battens, spars,
planks, even lichens and mosses, were all found
marketable ; and my forest clearing was made to
pay in products for the labour expended. I think,
too, of the elaborate care bestowed on plantations in
Scotland, in Germany, and elsewhere, and sigh as I
contrast the thrift there with the extravagance here.

But of course circumstances alter cases, and I
am conscious that under altered conditions such as
we have here, I am but poorly qualified to judge as
to what is best. And yet such wholesale waste
and destruction does to me seem grievous.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 105

At length we reach Tahoraite, the present ter-
minus, eighty-two miles from Napier. The air is
keen and bracing. Around us we can see countless
leagues of forest country and wooded ranges
stretching to the far-off plains below, and climb-
ing in rugged succession, range on range, right up
to the topmost peaks of the main mountain chain
above us.

The fourteen-mile drive to Woodville is very
beautiful. It is through the New Zealand bush.
Having said that, I have said enough. At Wood-
ville, the public school and various public buildings
were neat, but, evidently, inexpensive edifices of
wood — not the extravagant palaces which the
cupidity of the electors, the plasticity of Cabinets,
and the log-rolling of members have peppered
down in every hamlet in New South Wales,
where the money might have been infinitely
better expended on reproductive works of public
utility. But there ! ! " Off the track again, you
see ! "

At Woodville you have the choice of three
routes. The one, to take coach to Masterton, and
thence by rail to Wellington ; another to go on
through the famous Manawatu Gorge to Palmers-
ton, thence by rail to Foxton on the coast, and
then either by coach along the beach, or by
steamer to Wellington ; or, thirdly, from Palmers -
ton by rail to Wanganui, and then on to the capital
by steamer.

We chose the last mentioned, as we had business
in Wanganui.

io6 Our New Zealand Cousins.

About two miles out from Woodville we begin
the never-to-be-forgotten passage of the Manawatu
Gorge.

The first view of the river is striking. The
valley in which it flows is narrow, and the steep hills
on either side are thickly clad with forest. The
coach (Jones's) with its three splendid grey horses,
seems suspended right over the stream, which rolls
in brown, eddying volumes close under the road. •
It has, in fact, hollowed out the cliff in which the
roadway is cut. Down below, crossing an elbow
of the stream, is a graceful suspension bridge. On
the further side steep pinnacles of rock tower high
into the sky, and the defiles look black with shade.
A blue haze, like that of the Blue Mountains,
shrouds all the distance. The trees are hoary with
mosses, hidden and smothered with creepers, and
laden with tangled masses of parasitic grass.

The road is barely wide enough for the coach.
There is not ten inches to spare at many a jutting
angle. Two vehicles could not possibly pass.
Even an equestrian must pull up to let the coach
pass at certain places, sidings in the rock wall
being cut for that purpose. The wall of rock on
the left rises sheer up from the road. Beneath,
whirls and foams the river in its rocky bed. Over
the river we see the blazed line along the face of the
precipices which marks the survey for the projected
railway. Above, rise terrace on terrace of fern
trees. Here a bald jutting rock some hundreds of
feet high. Here a dell of glossy verdure. Here a
plashing cascade. Here a bare ugly gash in the

Our New Zealand Cousins. 107

steep boskiness, caused by a landslip. Every
winding turn discloses some bank or crag, some
dell or ravine more exquisitely lovely than the one
just passed.

The clang of the hoofs on the hard road, or the
boom as we cross a culvert or bridge, echoes from
cliff to cliff, and the crack of the driver's whip is
multiplied, and reverberates amid the gorges and
precipices on both sides of the pass.

Giant totaras, ragged with age, draped with
moss and lichen, tower in masses above the lower
bush, which is thickly clung with creepers innu-
merable. The wind howls up the pass, and lashes
the pools into temporary fury. The tints, the
heights and deeps, the tossing foliage, the swift
stream, the mists and shadows, the fringes of ferns
over the beetling cliffs, the craggy boundary
before and behind, seeming to enclose us in a
rocky prison, all form a scene of inexpressible
beauty and indescribable grandeur.

Well may New Zealand be named wonderland,
and this most glorious gorge is aptly designated
one of its chiefest wonders. After miles of this
majesty and sublimity, the cliffs open out like the
rocky jaws of some Adamantine serpent, and the
released river rolls out smilingly and open-bosomed
into the undulating forest country outside the
gorge.

We cross by a curious ferry. The boat is pro-
pelled by the current of the stream itself. A well-
oiled traveller runs on a taut wire cable. The
current catches the boat at the angle made by the

io8 Our New Zealand Cousins.

running gear on the cable, and so the traveller
runs freely along, and the boat goes across like a
craft under sail.

The forest country here shows all the evidences *
of frequent settlement, in houses and herds, fences
and foreign grasses. There seems to be no crop
farming. Stock-raising taxes all the energies of
the settler. Even the gardens look neglected.
The familiar stumps and prostrate logs, and
slovenly paddocks of Australian scenery again
meet the eye here.

Burning is going on all around. The air is dense
with smoke. Our clothes get white with falling
ashes, and our eyes smart with the pungent
reek.

Here we pass the railway line again, and we
are now in the straggling but thriving town of
Palmerston.

Palmerston occupies the centre of a plain, which
has been carved and cleared out of the virgin
forest. It is well laid out. A big square occupies
the centre of the town, and round the square are
shops, hotels, and buildings, such as are seen in
very few country towns of much greater age and
pretensions in the mother colony of Australia.
There are several handsome churches. A hall, a
public library, several sawmills and factories of
various kinds ; and the place looks altogether lively
and progressive. The railway station alone looks
ramshackle, and is more like a piggery or a dog
kennel than a station.

By the time the train from Foxton comes up it

Our New Zealand Cousins. 1 09

is dark, and through the deepening gloom, broken
only at fitful intervals by the lurid glare of
the forest fires, we are whirled into Wanganui, and
put up at the prince of hostelries, the Rutland
Hotel.

Shortly after our trip as above recorded, this part
of the island was visited with a series of devasta-
ting forest fires, which did enormous damage, both
to life and property, and made many families
homeless. Referring to this, a correspondent in
one of the Sydney papers gives the following
graphic account of the dangers some of the mail-
coach drivers have at times to encounter in the
execution of their duty : —

" It is interesting," says the writer, " in connection
with the peculiar weather we have lately had in
New Zealand, that the Maoris in one district are
just now very busy removing their dwellings to
higher ground in anticipation of a very heavy flood
setting in shortly. The Maoris of the North
Island predicted an unusually dry summer, on
account of a peculiar appearance in connection
with the flax flowers. It is certain that their
prophecy in that case has turned out correct, and
it remains to be seen whether this latter prediction
of the natives will also come to pass. But the
terrible bush fires that have raged throughout the
country have been the worst feature of the season,
destroying as they have so much valuable property,
and in many instances endangering life. On the
day previous to that on which I travelled by coach
on the same route, and passing through an almost

1 1 o Our New Zealand Cousins.

similar experience which I shall never forget on
the Reefton road, the following incident occurred :
The coach left Nelson at the usual hour, but on
reaching the Motupiko Valley it was found that
an extensive fire was raging to the right of the
route. Mr. G. Newman (the coachdriver), how-
ever, continued his course, thinking that he could
keep ahead of the flames. But in this he was mis-
taken ; for after proceeding a few miles, and reach-
ing a portion of the road where it was next to im-
possible to turn the coach, he found that the fire
was of greater extent than he had imagined, and
began to realize the gravity of the danger which
threatened him.

" The country behind him he knew to be all in
flames, and therefore all hope of retreat in that
direction was cut off. His only hope then con-
sisted in his chance of heading the fire, and he
accordingly put the horses to the utmost speed,
and then commenced a race for dear life. The
smoke at this time was such as to almost entirely
shut out the leading horses from the driver's view,
and the heat growing more and more intense as
the great column of fire rolled down the hillside
towards the road. The flames were now within a
few yards of the roadside, and the paint on the
coach began to blister and give out a strong odour,
which caused Mr. Newman to think that the coach
awning was on fire. But being himself almost
suffocated with the heat and smojce, his only
thought was of reaching a point ahead, where
there was a break in the country, and a small

OUK New Zealand Cousins. 1 1 1

stream into which he might throw himself, for
his whiskers and hair had already been badly
singed. The coach swept on at a terrific pace
until reaching the point on the route already
referred to, where, as expected, the fire had taken
another direction, and the danger was over.

" A glance at the coach and foaming horses then
revealed how terrible had been the ordeal through
which they had just passed for the last mile. The
horses were singed fearfully, the paint had peeled off
the coach, and the only wonder seemed to be that
the awning had not ignited. Mr. Newman will not
be likely to forget that journey in a hurry.
Probably few other men could have undergone
such a trial without losing their senses. Had a
burning tree fallen across the road, or had any
accident happened to the coach at the great
speed at which it was going, there would have
been no possible escape from a terrible death
for them all. But this is only one instance out
of many. One man descended a, well in order
to escape a raging fire, and had a most miracu-
lous escape from a terrible death, when the wood-
work on the top of the well caught fire, and
crashed down the shaft, but was happily ex-
tinguished in the few feet of water remaining in
the well."

ii2 Our New Zealand Cousins.

CHAPTER IX.

A homely hotel — Hotel management in New Zealand and
New South Wales — Sharp criticism — Wanganui, the
town — Its fine reserve — Mount Ruapehu — A pioneer
settler — Diligent farmers — Great fertility of soil — Signs
of prosperity — A coasting steamer — The Rip — Entrance
to Wellington Harbour — Panoramic view of the capital
— Then and now — Importance of the city — View from
Mount Victoria.

WANGANUI, like all the New Zealand towns we
have yet seen, strikes a stranger favourably at
first glance. Oh, if our Australian hotel-keepers
and licensed victuallers were but more alive to the
importance of first impressions ! The welcome we
received at the " Rutland " did more to dissipate
our fatigue than even the subsequent ablutions and
snug little supper. It was past ten, and we had
had nothing since midday, and were, as you may
imagine, both tired and hungry. On timidly
preferring a request for supper, what a relief to
find alacrity, in place of the usual response to
which a long travelling experience in New South
Wales had habituated us — that response being,
generally, something of this sort—" The kitchen's
closed, and the cook's gone ; ye can't have nuthin."
Instead of that we were served with delicious
oysters, fresh bread, and beautiful butter, and told

Our New Zealand Cousins. 113

that if we wanted a hot grill or cup of tea or
anything, it would be a pleasure to get it for
us. The hotel was full, but the kind landlady,
Mrs. Parsons, vacated her own room for us, and
made us as comfortable as if we had been at
home. Nor is this by any means an unusual
experience in New Zealand — at Gram's, in Auck-
land ; at McRae's, in Wairoa ; at the Criterion, in
Napier ; here at the Rutland, in Wanganui ; and,
most notably of all, at Mceller's Occidental Hotel,
in Wellington ; at Warner's, in Christchurch ; and
the Grand, at Dunedin, we found a civility and
attention, a readiness to oblige, and a disposition
to forestall one's most trivial wants, which, alas ! —
and I say it deliberately — are sadly absent in
hotels on the Sydney side, with only a few
honourable exceptions.

The domestics certainly seem more willing, and
whether it be the climate, or better system, or
what, I know not, but they are decidedly less lazy
than the usual Phyllises and Ganymedes, to
whose tender mercies travellers owe so mighty
little of comfort or pleasure, in New South
Wales.

While on this subject, it is a real pleasure to
testify to the good hotel management we have
experienced so far in New Zealand. Take, for
instance, the bedrooms. It is the rule, not the
exception, in bush " pubs " and country inns on the
Sydney side, to find a filthy deposit of dirt,
organic matter, and other abominations in your
ewer and water-jug. The ewer is seldom tho-

I

ii4 Our New Zealand Cousins.

roughly washed out, or scalded with hot water,
and the basins merely get a perfunctory rub
with a greasy cloth after the slops have been
emptied. The towels are often in rags, and the
soap is seemingly as hard to find as the Holy
Grail. Of the condition of the bath-room —
when there does happen to be one, which is
not often — common modesty and decency forbids
me to speak. The defiant disregard of the first
principles of sanitary laws in the disposition of
closets and other conveniences, shocks the stranger
and disgusts every traveller.

" What matter ? " muses the publican. " It's the
bar that pays. Travellers are only a nuisance.
Them there arrangements wor good enuff for me,
ever sence I wor a kid. Oh, hang travellers ! — let
'em leave it or lump it. Gim me the good thirsty
'uns ! "

Such is the normal state of affairs in many inns
in New South Wales. As for the cookery ! —
that, alas, is simply nasty ; there's no other word
for it. The kitchens are polluted and vile. The
surroundings are odious. The atmosphere of the
bar and common rooms reeks with the odour of
stale beer and sickly tobacco fumes. Bacchus in
New South Wales is no longer the rosy radiant
god, but a combination satyr — part swine, part
slobbering Silenus — and wholly repugnant to every
clean instinct. Of course, I am not forgetful of
some bright exceptions to this description.

Here in New Zealand, however, I have not yet
seen a dirty bedroom. The various utensils for

Our New Zealand Cousins. 115

ablutions are gratefully clean. Naturally, with
abundant water the baths are copiously supplied ;
but then the accessories and surroundings are so
clean and comfortable ! The butcher's meat is
naturally superior ; but how much is that superi-
ority enhanced by the prevalent cleanliness and the
really good cookery ? It is an ungrateful task at
all times to find fault, and doubly distasteful when
a comparison tells against one's local prejudices and
the natural bias one has in favour of home institu-
tions. Still, if I am to be a truthful critic, I must
give my opinions on what I observe, honestly and
fearlessly ; and I am content to appeal to any
traveller who has had experience of hotels in New
Zealand and New South Wales to say whether, at
every point, the management of theolder colony does
not lag miserably behind that of the newer colony.

" Bung " is a mighty power in the land ; and the
licensed victualler's calling is an honourable and a
necessary one. But in the name of common sense
and common fairness, let the bargain be observed
loyally on both sides. In many cases, as things
go at present, the licence is all with the publican to
do as he "darn pleases," while the victualling,

which the public have a right to expect is .

Yes, just so, a blank !

But to return to Wanganui. If the visitor wants
to have a comprehensive view of the town, let him
do as we did, and mount the steep Flagstaff Hill,
which looks down upon the river, spanned by its
noble bridge on iron piers ; and there, while his
sense of smell is regaled with the sweet scent of the
I 2

I E 6 Our New Zealand Cousins.

blossoming whins, his ears are ravished with the
dulcet chorus of the warbling larks and linnets; let
him feast his eyes on the magnificent panorama
which unfolds itself before his gaze.

Away from the symmetrical town, nestling round
its two sandy knolls, and skirted by the silvery
river at your feet, your eyes are drawn as by some
irresistible fascination to yonder mighty altar, up-
rearing its spotless architecture right away up from
the puny brethren around it, till it stands out clear,
distinct, sharp cut, in virgin purity, looking like " a
great white throne " let down from Heaven.

It is Mount Ruapehu, crowned with eternal
snows, draped with samite, and glistening in the
sun ; and yet so calm, peaceful, pure, that as you
gaze, the spell works, and you stand hushed, sub-
dued, and yet with the sense of a great peace within
you, as you think of the pure majesty of the
Creator of that wondrous pinnacle of light and
glory, and can feel that even the tiny lark poised
above your head, throbbing with song, has its every
feather noted by His all-seeing eye, and that in the
boundless infinitude of His love, you too, have the
portion of a child.

The larks ! Yes, here they are abounding,
exultant. What an incense of song ! What de-
lightful trills and melodies ! What gushes of
minstrelsy all around ! Daisies, too, peeping up at
us with their pink-tipped fringes. And the gorse !
Surely we are back in the old country.

A glance below at the wooden town dispels the
illusion.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 1 1 7

I have mentioned two sandhills in the middle of
the town. One is crowned with an old block-house,
used now as a gaol ; but which served as a rally-
ing centre, and was intended as a refuge during
the troublous times of the Maori war. The other
is bare, save for a ruddy brown carpet of sorrel,
which looks for all the world like heather in the
distance. Both spaces are reserves for the use of
the inhabitants.

And in this matter of reserves, how rich is the
dower of Wanganui. There is a fine wide expanse
of racecourse, with paddocks, grand stand, and
offices, all very complete. But round the town,
embracing it in a wide semi-circle from the river to
the river again, is a splendid reserve called the
Town Belt. It comprises 600 acres of fine rich land,
partly put down in plantations, partly let out on
short leases, thus yielding a revenue to the corpora-
tion, and forming indeed a noble heritage for the
generations that are to come.

The town has a good water supply from springs
and lakes on the rampart of tableland that
overlooks the flat on the side farthest from the
river. One lake is three miles out, and has only
lately been united to the supply. There is a fall
of over 200 feet, giving a splendid head of water for
service in cases of fires.

Sales of stock are held weekly, at which there
is a large gathering of farmers and settlers.
Hotels, churches, banks, insurance offices, and
shops that would not disgrace George or Pitt
Streets, Sydney, all impress .the observer with a

1 1 8 Our New Zealand Cousins.

belief in the soundness and future importance of
Wanganui. The entrance to the river is four miles
down, and there is a bar which at present detracts
somewhat from the serviceability of the harbour.
A long breakwater is now, however, being formed,
and will, when finished, extend 2800 feet into deep
water. The bar will then be cleared, and it is
believed the scour of the river will always main-
tain an open and deep passage.

We were lucky enough to get a grand drive out
into the surrounding country, under the genial
guidance of our friend and fellow-countryman,
Mr. Peat. He is a genuine specimen of the sturdy,
independent Scot, who has carved his own way to
a competency, but has not with the increase of
wealth gathered any of its hardening incrustations.
There is no film over his soul. He will tell you
of the early times when he was glad to take the
first job that offered. He points out the field in
which he did his first day's work at the tail end
of a New Zealand plough. And then with simple
manly modesty, he tells the story of his struggle
with fortune, ending in his being in possession of
these rich paddocks — these waving plantations —
these comfortable farms — these rolling downs and
pastures, through which we ride for miles, and at
last alight at the door of his handsome and com-
fortable family mansion on a height overlooking
the town.

The country round Wanganui is wonderfully
fertile. We drove over one field of stubble, and
the farmer, in whose occupancy was the land, had

Our New Zealand Cousins. 119

threshed out ninety-seven bushels of oats to the acre.
The thick second growth of self-sown crop showed
that the yield must have been considerably over a
hundredfold.

All along this coast, right up to Taranaki, there
exists a curious chain of lakes, running parallel
with the sea, at a distance of a few miles inland.
To the seaward side of these lakes, the country is
sandy, light, and not particularly fertile. But
between the lakes and the hill ranges, the soil is
magnificent. A rich black loam that can grow
anything. Only a very narrow strip of country, com-
paratively speaking, is as yet settled here. All
the back-wooded country, the hilly valleys and
ranges, are still unoccupied. Room here for thou-
sands of colonists. The roads are in good order.
They are under the supervision of county boards,
who levy a rate of three farthings per pound on
the acreage value. They take the Government
valuation for the property tax, as the basis of their
assessment. The limit under the property tax is
one penny per pound.

Farming here is in a healthy state. It was a
genuine pleasure to me to see the trim hedges, the
cleared-out ditches, the long clean expanse of well-
tilled fields, unmarred by a single unsightly stump
or fallen log. In one field we saw the farmer and
his men cleaning out an empty dam, and spread-
ing the silt as a top dressing on a bit of poor land.
Grazing is, however, the chief industry, and most
of the splendidly-grassed paddocks were not so
many years ago waving high with the ubiquitous

1 20 Our New Zealand Cousins.

bracken and manuka scrub. Twenty years ago
there was scarcely a hoof in the district, and now
my host sells often in one transaction over six
hundred head of the finest fat beasts a dealer could
pick up anywhere.

Everybody tells me "things are awfully de-
pressed in New Zealand." Certainly I could see
no signs of this depression in Wanganui. The
signs were absent from Auckland. They were not
visible in Napier, and in almost every village on
our route we saw only evidences of industry,
activity, and progress. Even in Wellington,
the much-bewailed depression eluded us still.
If this be " the awfully depressed state of
things " so constantly bemoaned, then New
Zealand, when things are brisk and lively, must
have been about the friskiest community and the
liveliest country to live in, that all history makes
any mention of.

We took passage to Wellington in a little
coasting steamer, yclept the Stormbird. The
steward was really very hospitable and kind, and
made a state-room for myself and wife out of the
little smoking-room. We were so close to the
machinery, that on the experience of that one
night, I might surely set up as an authority on
clangour and clanking for life.

We sailed in the cheerful company of a dan-
gerous lunatic under charge of a constable. There
were also a goodly company of passengers. The
case of the lunatic aptly illustrates a phase of
journalistic practice which is, alas ! too common in

Our New Zealand Cousins. 121

these colonies. How often the legitimate influence
of the Press is frittered away, in petty local squab-
bles, in pandering to narrow prejudices, in
fomenting little quarrels, and fostering a strait-
laced Pharisaism, all the while neglecting to teach
the broader, nobler lessons of the big, broad,
throbbing world outside the isolated narrow-
minded circle in which the local rag is too often,
alas ! the weekly apple of discord, instead of being
the fruit of the tree of life. The lunatic was
declared to be a sane man by the authorities at
Wellington. Doctors do differ, always have
differed, and probably always will differ. It being
dull season with the papers, the case of the lunatic
formed the subject of a leading article. The
medicos who committed the man at Wanganui took
up the cudgels in their own behalf. And now
a very pretty duel is raging between the two
sets of medicos, while the Press acts as judicious
bottle-holder, and pokes up both sides with its
traditional impartiality.

Coming through the Straits, we encounter
" The Rip," a current running like a mill race,
and a very fast and powerful mill race at that.
The little " puffer " of a steamer sturdily sets its
stout stem against the mad turmoil, and bravely
ploughs it way through.

The coast is, as usual, bare and uninviting.
The same serrated backbone of hills, with sharp-
edged spurs, abrupt ravines, conical mounds, and
here and there a bare gable end, where some land-
slip has collapsed into the sea, exposing the in-

122 Our New Zealand Cousins.

terior economy of the mountain, which a constant
shower of loose stones and gravel tries in vain to
hide.

The entrance to Wellington Harbour is very
bold and striking. The sun is just rising, and a
soft haze rests on the ocean. Great toothlike
rocky ridges stud the heaving sea, covered with
waterfowl, and the long swell dashes with a
surly roar amid their ragged recesses, and
the gleaming foam contrast finely with their
blackness.

Another similar ridge on Barrett's Reef looks
like the fossil jaw of some antediluvian monster.
Another scattered line of just such black ugly
rocks divides the channel, and in the absence of
lights, with a battery on either side, and a torpedo
service, I fancy it might be made a very hazardous
matter indeed for any hostile .ship to force an
entrance.

As we steam up the broad sound, between the
hilly peninsula on the left, and the bold mountain
chain on the right, we are confronted with an island
lying right in the centre of the land-locked bay.
It is at present used as a quarantine station ;
but would surely form a fine site for an inner
fortress.

Away up in the right-hand corner, beyond the
island, lies the Hutt, with its gardens, railway
workshops, and scattered residences, and the
river debouching over its shingly flat between the
hills. Right behind the island, with two or three
miles of gleaming bay intervening, is the little

Our New Zealand Cousins. 123

village of Petone, nestling under its fern-clad
cliffs.

. We turn sharp round a projecting cape to the
left, and Wellington, the empire city, lies before
us. In the lee of the cape we have evidence of
the prevailing war scare. On the point a gang
of men are busily toiling at the earthworks
for the heavy gun battery. Below on the beach
a cluster of snowy military tents betokens the
presence of other large bodies of men engaged
in forming approaches, and in other camp
duties.

But can that stately city be Wellington ? What
a change from the shabby, lowly, insignificant
village of twenty years ago.

When I last saw Wellington it looked from the
harbour but a collocation of shambling huts,
sprawled down higgledy-piggledy along the scant
margin of pebbly beach, between the hills behind
and the harbour in front. Barring the provincial
buildings and Parliament House there was scarcely
an edifice of any pretensions to be seen. We were
rowed ashore to a landing-stage, rickety and green
with slime, among blackened piles, on which was
built the Empire Hotel, then the fashionable resort
of visitors. The town consisted of one long
straggling business street, known as Lambton
Quay, with a few weatherboard dwellings perched
here and there on the terraced hills behind.

Now ! The wizard wand of progress has waved
to some good purpose during the twenty years
that have elapsed. Under the auspices of the

124 Our New Zealand Cousins.

Harbour Board, a spacious strand has been re-
claimed from the shallows of the bay. The mas-
sive wharves stretch out their welcoming arms into
deep water ; and ocean giants like the Coptic
yield themselves to the friendly embrace, and pour
forth their argosies of freight on the ample struc-
tures.

A stately post and telegraph office, with a fine
clock tower, boasting of mellow chimes such as I
have heard nowhere else in Australasia, confronts
the visitor ; and around it rise pile on pile of orna-
mental buildings, block after block of commodious
warehouses, showy facades of offices, rows of shops,
and all the usual bank buildings, customs offices,
and general surroundings of a busy, thriving sea-
port. And all these occupy the site of what was
deep water twenty years ago. The Supreme
Court buildings, the Government, insurance, and
other offices, the enormous wooden structure sur-
rounded by its gardens (said to be the largest
wooden building in the world, under whose roof
the various Government departments find shelter)
are all built on reclaimed ground. There was
not a vestige of all this when I last saw the infant
city.

Square massive blocks crown the heights. Here
the hospital ; there the Catholic college. All
along the sweeping semi-circle of guarding hills,
the continuity of villas, terraces, and gardens is
broken by the spires of handsome churches, or the
ridge line of important institutions. The site for
the great central prison, with its tall chimney, and

Our New Zealand Cousins. 125

ever-varying groups of labouring convicts, burrow-
ing at the face of the cliffy banks, levelling the
mounds, and filling up the hollows like so many
Gargantuan ants. The elegant spire of St.
Peter's English church ; the high scaffolding of
St. John's Scotch church, rising like the Phoenix
from its ashes of two years ago ; the Catholic
church of St. Joseph's ; the Catholic cathedral
of St. Mary's ; the dainty spire and turrets of
St. Andrew's Scotch church, boasting the prettiest
interior of any church in the colonies. All
these, and others, look down on the busy town
below, and point one's thoughts upward to
the purer realms, where the tricks of trade and
the sordid pursuits of earth find no abiding place.

Wellington owes much to its Harbour Board.
Geographically speaking, it occupies a most im-
portant position, and must always be a shipping
centre, as it commands trade routes to every coast
of both North and South islands. The railways,
too, are being pushed vigorously forward, and all
the wealth of the Wairarapa Valley, and the rich
lands to the north along the Manawatu railway
now in course of construction, must inevitably find
their entrepot in Wellington.

From the harbour one gets but a cramped idea
of the extent of the town. One sees nothing of the
dense array of houses which fill the Te Aro Valley,
which stretch in long streets away for some miles
towards Island Bay, and which huddle together in
the narrow valleys up behind the first terrace on
the backward hills.

1 26 Our New Zealand Cousins.

The best idea of the extent of the city can be
gained by ascending Mount Victoria or Flagstaff
Hill. It is a pretty steep pull, but the view
from the summit amply repays you for your
exertions.

How the city seems to open out the higher we
ascend among the gorse and rocky spurs. Every
valley is now seen to be full of houses. The har-
bour opens out into numerous long bays. The
calm ocean (for, wonderful phenomenon for Well-
ington, the winds are lulled and the day is placid)
lies spread out before us in all its bewitching
beauty, flecked only here and there with a few
small craft, lying idly rocking on the glassy sur-
face. The long grey sweep of the rocky peninsula
terminates in a busy swarming scene, where the
gangs of men are lustily working at the fortifica-
tions. Beyond rises the abrupt ridgy backbone of
hills which bounds the harbour to the southward,
and following their craggy sweep from the light-
house, the eye reaches the smoking valley of the
Hutt, where the reek from the railway workshops
rises in a murky cloud into the clear sky. The
island nestles in the foreground like a fragment of
the surrounding hills dropped into mid-harbour.
Behind, we see the scarped cuttings in the cliffs ;
and the busy steaming trains running to and fro,
disclose the meaning of these rigid, uncompromising
lines, which at first puzzle one, and look like the
trenches of an investing army.

Then comes the long semi-circular array of
serried streets, noble buildings, imposing blocks,

Our New Zealand Cousins. 127

and the busy motion of the quays in front. It
is, indeed, a grand panorama, and well repays
the climb.

There is a chorus of melodious larks making
the air alive with song ; and beneath our feet
little daisies in rich profusion smile at us from the
close-cropped turf. Great splashes of gold reflect
back the sun rays with almost a blinding radiance
from the hillsides around, where the gorse is
bourgeoning forth its yellow glory ; and the air ! —
so clear, so crisp, so exhilarating ! No wonder
the children have such ruddy cheeks, and the
maidens such bright eyes and bonnie faces, in
Wellington, the Empire city, as its citizens love to
call it.

128 Our New Zealand Cousins.

CHAPTER X.

McNab's gardens — The Rimutaka railway — The Fell engine
— The gorge itself — Grandeur of the scenery — Power of
the wind — The Wairarapa Valley — The town of Mas-
terton — An antipodean hermit — Mr Kohn's curios —
The Belmont Viaduct — Meat-preserving industry — The
various stages — A social blot.

THE " lions " about Wellington are not numerous,
but they are well worthy inspection.

McNab's Gardens, at the Hutt, are unique in
their way, and in the season can boast of the
very finest display of azaleas, camellias, and espe-
cially rhododendrons, probably to be seen south
of the line. McNab himself is a fine specimen of
the good, thrifty, gentle-mannered, practical old
Scottish gardener. His buxom wife partakes of
the practical also ; but nothing delights the worthy
couple more than to do the honours of their floral
domain to any one who betrays a curiosity to look
and learn.

What memories gardeners must have ; real
gardeners, I mean. Not the frauds and shams,
who invent names on the spur of the moment to
hide their real ignorance, and whose assumption of
infallibility is at times so exasperating.

McNab showed us pines, palms, lilies, flowering
shrubs, from Japan, Brazil, India, Africa, Europe,

Our New Zealand Cousins. 129

all growing " cheek by jowl," yet in graceful
groupings and telling contrast, and the name of
every one came as pat as petitions to a mendicant,
and was accompanied with quaint little bits of de-
scription and touches of humour, which made the
old man's tale most enjoyable.

On St. George's Day we took advantage of an
excursion train at a marvellously cheap tariff of 7$.
fare, to go over the world -famed Rimutaka rail-
way.

Englishmen make very little fuss over St. George.
What a fuss and fuddle Scotchmen sometimes make
over their dinner to St. Andrew ; and, of course,
we all know that St. Patrick's memory is embalmed
in the heart of every Irishman, and annually
honoured by an amount of green ribbon, whisky,
and eloquence, which none but an Irishman could
compass. But St. George ! Well, really, there
was very little bustle in Wellington on his account
on the date I write about ; and the banks were
the only institutions that seemed to hold his
memory in any special esteem.

The excursion train was but poorly patronized,
and, punctually at 10 a.m., we started in most
inauspicious weather. It rained heavily, and the
clouds were low, and the air raw and chill. We
steamed through the mists and driving rain, away
round the harbour and up the valley of the Hutt,
past rural farms and rich pastures in the valley,
and the river at our feet rattling noisily over its
shingly bars.

Past Silver Stream, a pretty station, we begin

K

1 30 Our New Zealand Cousins.

to approach the bushy defiles and half-cleared
flats, where settlement is more scanty and recent
than in the lower valley. " The forest primeval "
still holds its own stubbornly here, and only a few
unsightly patches of slovenly clearing on the hill-
sides show that the pioneer has begun to make his
mark. These first rude beginnings of settle-
ment are so like the schoolboy's first writing
lessons — grim, unsightly blots and thick strokes !
Never mind ; the fine penmanship will come in time.

When we come to the Upper Hutt, the outlook
under the depressing influence of the dull weather
is not inspiring. There is a neat little church,
but that about exhausts the neatness. Farming
has retrograded here during the last five years. A
big timber trade was formerly done ; but the forests
have been denuded, and a wilderness of black
stumps are all that remain to tell of the former
bravery of foliage. A wave of dullness has swept
over the place, and it languishes for the want of
energetic workers and possibly a good-natured
banker or two.

From Kaitoke we have two engines, and make
a steady ascent through some forest scenery of
striking beauty. The look back, across the valleys
and down the wooded glens, is most romantic and
beautifully diversified.

At the top of the steep, the Fell engine is
attached to the train, and takes us down the terrific
decline to Cross Creek. There is here a raised
centre rail, and the engine is provided with some
intricate and ingenious mechanism which grips

Our New Zealand Cousins. 131

this centre rail, and so minimizes the danger, and
gives additional power. I was informed that only
on the Vesuvius Railway and on one incline on
the Alps is there such a steep gradient as here,
and that it is only on these three lines that the
Fell engine is in use. Not being an engineer I
cannot vouch for this.

At all events the Rimutaka gorge is a sight
which once seen can never be forgotten. Critics
of the carping sort say that the line should never
have been brought by this route at all. They
tell you of two alternate routes of easier grades
and much more suitable for traffic. All I can
say is that for the tourist, the Rimutaka line
offers attractions which are positively enthralling.
The curves are very abrupt. The pace is rapid
enough to make standing on the platform dan-
gerous, as the oscillation is extreme ; but the
scenery is thrillingly grand.

The clear, brawling stream dashes along at the
foot of the embankments, with here and there an
abutment of logs and gabions stemming its im-
petuous rush, and diverting the insidious waters
away from their work of undermining, and over-
throwing the labours of the engineer. Some of
the glens are stupendous in their depth. Two
slender, spidery-looking chain-bridges span the
stream at two different gorges. The bosky hills
seem on fire, as the steam and mist curl and
wreathe their ghost-like fantastic columns aloft
through the dark canopy of matted creeper and
dewy fern fronds.

K 2

132 Our New Zealand Cousins.

Anon the sun bursts through the driving
scud, and for an instant the gleam and glitter,
the sheen and radiance, the play of glowing
brightness and gloomy shadow, are positively
bewildering, and superlatives are exhausted in
the attempt to render any of the faintest concep-
tion of the absorbing witchery of the fairy
display.

Through a long, dark, curved tunnel we dash.
We spin across the narrow neck named Siberia,
where at times the wind shrieks like as if all the
squadrons of the " Prince of the Power of the
Air" were hurling themselves upon the rugged
rocks in the attempt to dash them into pieces.
Great stones hurtle through the air at times. It
was here that terrible accident took place, when
the train was lifted bodily from the track by the
hurricane, and many lives were lost. Since then
the naked spur has been protected by high, strong
barricade fences.

But what a work has this been ! How could
the surveyors have possibly come down these
beetling cliffs ? What a wild chaos is here !
Crags, cascades, towering heights, and dizzy steeps.
It beats the western ghats of Bombay for wild
majesty.

And the mists ! Those columns of vapour on
the steep mountain sides. "He but toucheth the
hills and they do smoke." Look up or down the
gorge as you will, we seem shut in from the outer
world as by the fiat of some fell magician, with
impassable barriers of the wildest rock and forest.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 133

Ho ! ho ! a beneficent wizard to the rescue.
See through yonder rift in the hoary glen the
distant plains of Beulah. The sun blazing on the
Delectable Mountains beyond, and nearer, the
gleam and sparkle of a great lake. What a con-
trast ! Down there a picture such as one dreams
of when fancy conjures up pictures of the plains
of Heaven. Behind, looking away up to the
mountain tops, they are literally hidden in " clouds
of thick darkness," and so majestic is the whole
that the mind is overwhelmed with its grandeur
and sublimity, and quite unfit to analyze it into
its component parts.

We descend swiftly now into the famous Wai-
rarapa Valley. The great lake now takes on a
muddy hue. It is like an inland sea of dull olive
green. The dun manuka hills around, and swampy
flats bordering the lake, seem very tame after the
majesty of the mountains and solemn grandeur of
the gorges.

The Wairarapa Valley is famous for its pastures.
The centre of the valley is poor land, mostly
shingle and sand. The lower valley, however, and
the hollows alongside the hills are very rich. It
is well populated and dairy farms and factories
are numerous. The land about the lake wants
draining. The lake itself is the property of the
Maoris, and they are agitating now for permission
to prevent all European interference with their
riparian rights.

The towns in the valley are Featherstone, Grey-
town, Carterton, and Masterton. At Carterton is

134 Our New Zealand Cousins.

an extensive saw-mill employing over two hundred
hands.

At Masterton are three flour-mills, and the
town is bustling and seems thriving. The school
was undergoing enlargement. There was not a
house to let in the place, and we noticed several
new buildings in process of erection. There are
numerous streams here in which trout-hatching
has been successful. There is a capital institute
and reading-room, and an efficient fire-service.
Ladders are slung in prominent places along the
main streets, for use in case of fires. They are
supplied by the different insurance companies.
This is a good idea surely.

We had a good lunch at Elkins's Club Hotel,
and got back in the dark to Wellington about
seven o'clock, and had our usual comfortable
and hospitable reception at the Occidental.

Another celebrity that must be seen in Welling-
ton is the far-famed Island Bay Hermit. Some
mystery attaches to this ascetic individual. He
lives in a miserable, cold, bare cave, lies on the
bare stones, and, while accepting food or clothes
from his visitors, rejects all money offerings.
Herein he differs from his Oriental prototype, the
Fakeer or Yogi. Possibly the dreary past holds
its horrid secrets for him. He converses intelli-
gently enough on current topics. At night occa-
sionally he comes into one of the newspaper offices
in town, where he is supplied with mental pabulum
in the shape of a great bundle of mutilated
exchanges. Over these he pores, and possibly he

Our New Zealand Cousins. 135

may one day astonish the world in the role of a
new Mahdi, or Peter the Hermit. At present he
is an object of curiosity with the many, and
certain \y, with some, an object of pity and kindly
interest.

If the visitor wishes to feast his eyes on an exhi-
bition of perfect good taste and exquisite skill in
arrangement, let him visit the atelier of that artist
in arrangement of curios — Mr. Kohn, the jeweller,
on Lambton Quay. Mr. Kohn has a wonderful
and most complete collection of Maori and Island
weapons, cloths, and other curios. They are
arranged round the walls of an upper room, where
the light streams softly in through stained windows,
and the courtesy of Mr. Kohn is on a par with his
good taste. The room is a wonder. It is some-
thing unique. Dr. Buller has another splendid
collection of Maori curios which I much regretted
I was unable to see, although Captain Mair
had most kindly provided me with a letter of
introduction to the worthy doctor.

The museum and botanical gardens, too, are
worthy a visit.

Another object of interest, too, I had the good
fortune to behold, under the guidance of its con-
structor. This was the Belmont Viaduct, erected
on the Wellington and Manawatu Railway about
a mile from Johnston ville, by Mr. Morton Dana-
her, the contractor, from the design of Mr. H.
P. Higginson, the engineer to the company.

The bridge is said to be the highest viaduct, built
exclusively of timber, in the world. So that Wei-

136 Our New Zealand Cousins.

lington boasts the possession of the largest wooden
building and the highest wooden viaduct, as is
alleged, which the world contains.

The viaduct is raised on sixteen concrete base-
ments. It contains 212,000 superficial feet of
kauri timber, and there are thirty-five tons of
wrought iron used up in bolts, nuts, washers, and
straps alone. At a distance it looks like a gigantic
web, or the puzzle of a dreaming geometrician.
It is 170 feet in height, above the stream, and the
span over the valley is 185 feet. The erection of
such enormous lengths gave occasion for a display
of fertility of resource on Mr. Danaher's part which
is, I think, well worthy of record. It is a sample
of what is being done, in hundreds of cases, by our
cousins at the Antipodes to conquer nature, and a
good illustration of the dogged fight which has to
be waged before modern civilization can subdue
the wild forces and primaeval difficulties which
confront the hardy pioneers of progress in these
new lands.

All his sections were built on the ground on the
side of the hill. The problem was to place them
in situ without the aid of ruinously expensive
scaffolding, and, at the same time, without undue
risk to his workmen. Every log had to be
laboriously dragged up steep hill-sides, along the
bed of a mountain stream, and over ground
which would have daunted the resolution of most
men.

How, then, did he manage ?

Thus. Having built his section on the ground

Our New Zealand Cousins. 137

he raised it bodily into its place by a vertical
lift.

But how did he get his vertical lift ? Well) that
was the clever idea ! He sank a tunnel into the
rock on each side of the valley, and made a T
shaft in each tunnel, and in this shaft set a huge
beam. Through the beam he rove a strong wire
cable, and then hauled it taut across the valley,
and on it put his blocks and tackle, and thus with-
out scaffolding raised his structure, section by
section, and so the wonderful erection rose without
accident or mischance into being, and now stands
a marvel of skilful contrivance, and a lasting tribute
to the resourcefulness and energy of the genial and
gifted contractor.

My visit was not wholly engrossed with behold-
ing the wonders in natural scenery. My tastes lie
also in viewing the practical, and inspecting the
industrial.

So it was that we were glad to avail ourselves of
an opportunity afforded us of being shown over
the Gear Meat Preserving and Freezing Company's
works by the courteous and intelligent superin-
tendent, Mr. Oldham.

The Gear Company employs altogether about
250 hands. They have made arrangements for
turning out 4,000,000 Ibs. of tinned and preserved
meats during the coming year. They are turn-
ing out at present over ten tons daily, and they
are the only firm, I believe, in Australasia who
have successfully laid down corned beef in London
to pass the Admiralty standards at Deptford.

138 Our New Zealand Cousins.

The men were engaged putting up Government
supplies for her Majesty's navy at the time of our
visit. Considering the nature of the material
being operated on, the cleanliness of the works
was wonderful.

We were first shown into the boning-room,
where mighty carcases were being stripped with a
deftness and celerity only begotten of long prac-
tice. The bones were bundled off to boiling-down
and glue works outside the town. Some of them
are used to make rich stock for the soups.

The second stage is that wherein the flesh is
put in pickle tanks to extract the superfluous blood.

Thirdly, it is next blanched by being loaded in
an iron cage, which is worked up and down by
machinery, and dipped into boiling water. The
attendants forking in the huge masses of flesh
with great steel forks was a new sensation, and
the forks would have suited " Blunderbore " of
Jack the Giant-Killer renown to a nicety.

Fourthly, it was then, after being cut to requi-
site sizes, filled in hot into the cans, which have
previously all been made on the premises by a staff
of experts, and have been scalded in hot water,
and thoroughly cleansed.

Fifthly, the cans are next subjected to enor-
mous pressure, ingeniously applied by a patent
arrangement of turn-screws at a long table,
capable of pressing many tins simultaneously.
Each can has to undergo a pressure of three tons
to the inch, and the process is a patent of the
company.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 1 39

The tinsmith now (sixthly) fixes the heads of
the cans in, and solders them down. A small
orifice is left purposely in the top of each can.

The cans are now (seventhly) placed in the
preserving vats in the cooking-room. Here the
heat was rather tropical, though the smell was
most appetizing. The lightly-clad workmen,
with their clean white caps, hurry to and fro,
bending over the seething, bubbling vats, like
magicians busy over some magic cauldron. There
is the purring, piffing, paffing, plop plop, of inces-
sant ebullition, and the cans in their simmering
bath, steam away each from its tiny aperture like
so many independent miniature steam-engines.
The medium in which they are immersed for half
their bulk has to be a dense one to keep down
ebullition and lessen evaporation, and so a mix-
ture of muriate of lime and fat is used. When
sufficiently cooked, the orifice in the lid is sol-
dered up, and the cans are next subjected to a
further treatment in a bath of a higher tempera-
ture. Here one or two will occasionally burst
with a terrific report and to the grievous hurt
of the attendants. Happily such accidents are
rare.

They are then plunged through an orifice into
a bath of cold water, cleaned, painted, labelled,
and a neat finish given to the exterior, which at
last assumes a most attractive guise.

The tin-room was perhaps the most interesting
one of the whole factory. The whole work was so
neatly, cleanly, and expeditiously done that ft

1 40 Our New Zealand Cousins.

was a treat to witness the regularity and method
so apparent in every department.

But we have lingered too long over our descrip-
tions and must leave Wellington. One painful
thing obtruded itself on our observation. We
saw more drunkenness in Wellington than in any
city or town in New Zealand. Whether this be
a permanent or but a passing and transitory phase
of the social life of this fine town I cannot
say, but it is the only reproach I feel called on to
record.

We saw many deplorable cases of open, brazen-
faced, flaunting drunkenness, and sad to say not a
few of the lamentable instances were those of
really well-dressed, respectable-looking women,
evidently workmen's wives, probably mothers of
families. Alas ! alas ! under such circumstances
is larrikinism to be wondered at ?

CHAPTER XI.

Bank's Peninsula — Port Lyttelton — The changes of twenty
years — A transformation — The great tunnel — The
graving work — Christchurch, the city of gardens — Its
homelike aspect — Hard times — Colloquy with a croaker
— The philosophy of the matter — "The good time
coming."

AFTER Wellington, Port Lyttelton is our next
halting-place, and memory is busy as it carries me
back along the eventful line of twenty-one years
since I landed on its steep and stony strand.
The view from the steamer is very fine. The
snowy mountains are the same. The hazy bulk
of Bank's Peninsula looms ahead as if barring
our farther progress as it did of yore, but the
individual Ego, the I, how different ! As the
morning mist lifts we see the deep light, beyond
which lies the cathedral city, Christchurch. The
tall spire is faintly discernible, surrounded by
other leafy spires of poplar and pine, and tiny
wreaths of blue smoke rising in spiral columns
into the grey air of morning. Behind, rise the
silvery spurs of the snow-clad Alps. They glitter
like burnished armour in the rosy light. The
hills and steep braes of the Peninsula are brown
and bare, but the snow has a homelike look, and

142 Our New Zealand Cousins.

seems to gleam with a kindly welcome to the
returning wanderer.

Now we near the Heads. Dear me ! How 1
remember the clustered rigging, thick with immi-
grants, as we clung to the shrouds and gazed on
the land we had come so far to see. What
changes since then ! How many have gone down
in life's fight and been trampled into the dust of
forgetfulness. How many are scattered far and
wide over the earth's circumference, for I have met
shipmates in far-apart places. How very few
have weathered all the storms and reached the
quiet haven of cosy opulence and middle-aged
leisure. Ah, well ! it is the way of the world, and
my fight is not by any means over yet.

The changes in Port Lyttelton are little short of
phenomenal. What was but a bare harbour, with
a shingly beach, on which we had to step from
watermen's boats, which plied between ship and
shore, is now a magnificent port, with an enormous
embracing breakwater, with stately wharves on
massive piles, reticulated with a network of rails,
along which the busy locomotives snort and steam.
Trucks laden with produce are propelled merrily
along. Great sheds line the shores. A big termi-
nal railway-station skirts the sea-face, where once
the waves lapped the strand. A noble observatory
crowns the promontory above. The quarantine-
station is bright and gay with houses and gardens.
The town runs its open streets up the steep hill
and the houses overflow into every nook on the hill-
sides and jostle each other almost into the water.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 143

A great area has been reclaimed. Old stone ware-
houses have been pulled down to make way
for the railway and locomotive sheds, and a
blackened, smoky archway, low down near the
great graving dock, shows me the sea-end of the
famous tunnel through the towering mountain,
which Moorhouse projected, and which had
not long been begun when I arrived in the
colony.

Then, Lyttelton was but a little village of
weather-board huts. Now it is a crowded town
of gable-ends peeping up in serried rows all over
the hills. Alas ! the cemetery on the hill is more
densely peopled now, too, than it was then.

The tunnel is 2870 yards long, and brings all the
Canterbury plains into direct touch with the sea.
The magnificent back-country of New South Wales
is as yet in a worse plight than the plains of this
little province. The railway system of Sydney
practically stops short of the sea by a weary
gap of two or three miles ; so far at any rate as
passengers are concerned. What a bitter satire on
the vaunted wealth and energy and enterprise of
Sydney blood !

The Graving Dock is another achievement of
which the Canterbury people may well be proud.
It is over 400 feet in length. In fact we saw the
fine steamer Kaikora berthed high and dry in
the dock, getting a new blade put on to her
screw. The Kaikora is 420 feet on the keel, and
the dock could have taken a much larger vessel
than that.

144 Our New Zealand Cousins.

Dashing through the tunnel, we emerge into
Heathcote Valley, after five long minutes of
Cimmerian darkness. For once in my colonial
life I ride in a clean smoking carriage. It is
worthy of record, that fact. The spittoons in the
floor are burnished as bright as a new shilling, and
the cushions are spick and span. There are tab-
lets for striking matches ; the atmosphere is sweet.
The saloon is more like a club smoke-room than
a railway-carriage. What a contrast to the
piggeries on N.S.W. railways !

Through the valley, the Avon winds amid its
drooping willows, and on the great plain the city
spreads its symmetrical streets, and its houses
embosomed in gardens.

Christchurch is par excellence the city of gar-
dens, groves, seminaries, churches, and artesian
wells.

Climb the Cathedral spire, by all means, and
enjoy the view. The Avon winds through the
town. An outing in one of the dainty pleasure
skiffs, on its limpid waters, is one of the pleasant
experiences of the place. From the spire you
look down on busy streets stretching from a
common centre, and each one as it nears the
circular town belt loses itself amid villas and
gardens and poplar groves. Such a rus in urbe is
surely unique. Over the Avon are groups of
quaint old-world-looking buildings. Some are
built of a dark-blue stone — some of a warm red
brick ; but all seem fragrant with old memories and
hallowed with the sanctities of studious life. They

Our New Zealand Cousins. 145

suggest cloisters, quadrangles, libraries, groups of
grey professors, and throngs of grave-lipped
students.

There are old ivy-covered churches, too, that
seem to have been picked out of old English
towns and dropped down here. Yonder is an old
belfry tower, weather grey and lichen-covered.
Surely it has been transported bodily from some
corner of Lichfield or York.

The schools and colleges are thickly scattered
over the flat beyond the river. I remember when
it was a wilderness of marshy sedge tussocks and
flax-bushes. Now the architectural triumphs
would do credit to any cathedral city at home.

The Museum, under the able curatorship of
Dr. Julius von Haast, ranks as the finest in
all Australia. Indeed, the collection in some
respects is not inferior to that of any European
capital.

The Botanic Gardens and Park are exquisitely
laid out, and set off by the silvery, ribbon-like Avon,
which purls gently along, meandering through the
groves and ornamental lawns.

The ocean bounds the view on one side, and far
away, verging the plain, the snowy Alps fringe
the picture with their glistening crests of spotless
white on the other.

It is a beautiful panorama. One could easily
fancy himself back in the old country. But the
sights are soon exhausted, and the flatness is apt
to become "just a leetle monotonous."

Warner's Commercial Hotel, in the Cathedral

L

1 46 Our New Zealand Cousins.

Square, was our caravanserai. No home could
have been more comfortable and no host more
hospitable. Warner is a host in himself, and his
gentle-mannered nieces do the honours of his house
with a grace and geniality that makes one feel
sorry to leave the home-like atmosphere of the place.

The autumn winds, too, had swept the leaves
from the deciduous trees, of which there are more
here than in any New Zealand town ; and the
bare branches added to the English look of the
place. Altogether Christchurch is the most
English-looking town we have yet seen at the
Antipodes ; and, as it was the object of the fathers
who founded the settlement, to transplant a slice
of England bodily into their new garden ground,
they are to be congratulated on having so success-
fully accomplished their purpose.

Notwithstanding the prevailing cry of dull times,
the streets were thronged with cosily-clad and
well-fed crowds ; the shops were full of customers ;
the theatre was well patronized ; and a general
well-to-do air was apparent everywhere.

I only found one croaker. He complained bit-
terly of the bad times ; but when I asked him
where lay the blame, he was rather hazy as to how
to allocate it.

" Was it the Government ? "

" Well, no ! He believed they were doing their
best. Of course there used to be more public
works going on ; but then these were finished, and
no Government could always be putting up public
buildings."

Our New Zealand Cousins, 147

« Was it the banks ? "

" No, he didn't know much about banks, but he
believed they was pretty liberal, too/'

" Was it employers ? "

" Well, no. They were just as bad off as any
one else."

" Would he like to go back to the old country ? "

" No fear," very energetically. " Times was
bad, no doubt ; but, Lor' bless ye, they wasn't any-
thing like as bad as they was at home."

And so, boiled down, it all came to this — Times
were bad. That must be true, because everybody
said so. But how bad were they ? Men had fair
wages, comfortable homes, were well clad, well fed,
could afford tobacco, and other little luxuries, and
yet — and yet, they were not happy.

The fact is, as it seems to me, just about this.
People were too extravagant while the good times
lasted. Fat contracts and big public works cannot
last for ever. Even big reckless loans must have
an end. The period for payment of interest comes
round with unerring regularity. The time must
come when steady industry must apply itself to
reproductive works. Lands must be tilled, and
ploughing is not so showy as tunnelling and bridge-
building. Grasses and cereals must be sown, but
returns are slower than from big contracts. " While
the dollars roll in let us spend them. Sufficient
for the day is the evil thereof." Such seems to me
to be the general philosophy of these recurring
hard times. When wages are high and work
plentiful, the fat kine are slaughtered and eaten
L 2

1 48 Our New Zealand Cousins.

right off, rump and stump ; and not even a scrap
is salted down to eke out the scanty fare that must
inevitably follow, when the evil days of the lean
kine come upon us.

I believe that while there is a certain amount of
depression in New Zealand at present, it is but
temporary. The resources of the country are only
in the birth throes of their exploitation. Well for
all concerned if the lessons of thrift, self-denial,
frugality, and the necessity for hard continuous
effort, be learned now, from a temporary depression,
than from the dry rot and stagnation of a wide-
spread national deterioration and exhaustion.

Christchurch has stirring times, and a bright busy
future before it yet, beyond a doubt, else the Anglo-
Saxon is played out, and there is no more virtue in
beef, wool, and grain. So long as grass grows and
water flows, and industry merits success, so long
will Canterbury flourish, and the cry of bad times
from lazy croakers will have as much effect as the
idle wind that wastes its energies on the sands of
the desert.

149

CHAPTER XII.

The majesty of the mountains — The great Canterbury Plains
— Ashburton, a city of the plains — Then and now —
The Rangitata River — Progress of settlement — Timaru
— The surf — The olden time — The city of to-day — A
triumph of engineering skill — The giant mole — Its con-
struction— The engineer's description of the work — An
old chum — " Once a mate always a mate '' — Calling the
roll — A vivid contrast.

ON a bitterly cold morning, and under a dense
heavy pall of leaden cloud, we start on our journey
across the great Canterbury Plains towards Timaru
and Dunedin.

The plains are composed chiefly of shingle, with
a scant herbage of tussock grass. Here and there,
alongside the line, are young plantations of English
oak and Australian blue gum. Stubble fields,
hedged in by long rows of gorse, stretch away on
either hand for miles. Already (May) the winter
ploughing has begun in places. The majestic
range of the snowy Alps bounds the great plain to
the right. What a burnished splendour ! what a
dazzling glory ! as the sun bursts through the pall
of cloud ! Could anything be more beautiful than
these eternal solitudes of snow ? The absolute
purity — peace — rest. What an emblem of the
soul's repose after purification from life's mire and
unrest ! The rattle of the train hurts and jars. It

1 50 Our New Zealand Cousins.

is so incongruous with that pure holy majesty of
the pinnacled snow. Little wonder that moun-
taineers are generally reverent and religious.

Now we cross the rapid Rakaia over a very long
wooden bridge. At every country town in the
South Island among the most prominent features
are the great granaries and stores of the New Zea-
land Loan and Mercantile Agency Company.
They seem to be ubiquitous. The company
provide weighbridges and platforms for their cus-
tomers at all the large stations free of charge.
The neat churches, too, are a constant feature.
Here is a malthouse ; there a flour or saw-mill-
Here again is a granary ; there is a woolshed.
Seed-cleaning machinery is of frequent occurrence ;
so too are steam ploughs, traction engines, reaping
machines. Indeed, all the most modern forms of
agricultural labour-saving appliances are common
sights. The faces we see are ruddy and fresh and
brimful of intelligence. Corn-ricks and farmhouses
stud the plains.

Through the Rakaia Gorge we get a peep beyond
the snowy barrier into the inner mountainous
country. The gorge discloses ever a grander
succession of snowy peaks and glistening glaciers.
A region untrodden by human foot, and sacred to
the sway of nature's mightiest activities. It is a
sealed workshop, where Titanic forces are cease-
lessly at play.

Now, far ahead, the white buildings of Ashburton
gleam in the sun. It is verily a City of the Plains.
We find it a busy, thriving centre of a populous

Our New Zealand Cousins. 1 5 1

farming district. There are numerous plantations
of blue gum, and the town itself is very scattered
and rural-looking. Poplars are prominent; and,
indeed, this regard to tree adornment is a very
pleasing feature of all New Zealand towns. Would
it were so in New South Wales.

Twenty years ago I rode through Ashburton.
It was then a bullock-teamster's camp. There
was a " bush pub." and a blacksmith's shop and a
police hut. These constituted the township then.

Now, look around ! See the tall brick chimneys,
the gas-works, the wide streets well lined with
spacious shops and public buildings, hotels,
churches, institutes, and even a theatre. Hand-
somely laid-out reserves and well-wooded parks,
enormous wool and grain stores, coach factories,
wool factories, butter and cheese factories ; public
library. I may well rub my eyes ! It seems all a
dream to me, that memory of the lumbering bullock
team, ploughing its weary way over shifting shingle
and through boggy hollows.

Across the sprawling river, where many a foot-
sore bullock has been swept down to sea in the
gone-by times ; and many a swagsman has found
a watery grave ; we now spin gaily along over
another very long wooden bridge — past gardens,
nurseries, farms, plantations, hay-ricks, and thresh-
ing-mills, we dash. Mile after mile is left behind,
till at Ealing, some seventy miles from Christ-
church, we dip towards the bed of the fierce Ran-
gitata, which we cross by another of the charac
teristic timber viaducts. The milky water,

152 Our New Zealand Cousins.

treacherous and swift, comes dashing down from its
snowy source amid the glaciers, carrying its rolling
burden of shingle with it. The bridge is protected
by flanking buttresses running up stream. These
are simply wooden coffer-dams filled with shingle
and boulders. What a wild waste of shingle bars
and drifted wrack fills the valley ! The stream
runs now in myriads of silvery threads ; but in
flood-time what a mad surging rush of foaming
water is here ! It is then fully two miles across
and resistless in its might.

The snowy peaks are now shrouding themselves
in misty mantles, as if to protect their hoarded
crystals from the Sun-god's seductive touch. The
plains below are bathed in sunshine, but far out to
seaward, Heaven's murky battalions are gathering,
and the air is hushed and still, as if presaging an
impending storm.

At Orari, with its snug farms, and belts of plan-
tations, the train disgorges a vulture-like crowd of
betting-men. A little ramshackle erection, which
local pride has dignified with the title of grand
stand, decorated with bits of bunting, sufficiently
discloses the attraction which has brought the
jackals hither.

Betting and gambling blights the kingly sport
here, as it does so much all over the colonies.
The degrading influence of the betting-ring lowers
the moral tone of the country, and vast sums are
withdrawn from legitimate uses to keep in luxury
a set of unscrupulous parasites who batten on
industry and clog the wheels of healthy progress.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 153

On we hurry through a splendid farming dis-
trict. Past Winchester, with its neat villas and
trim gardens ; past Temuka, with its handsome
white-spired church and Gothic schools, its well-
stocked farms and plethoric corn-yards ; past
Arowhenua, with its Maori village, and another
mountain stream brawling over its bed of shingle.
On, with accelerated speed, through magnificently
cu Itivated farms, rich swaths of stubble, and ample
evidences on every hand of rural wealth and thriv-
ing settlement. I have rounded sheep over every
mile of this country in the olden time, when there
was little else but flax, raupo, tussock, wild pig,
and unbroken ground. Verily the times have
changed — and happily. Men are surely better
than wild pig, and smiling farms than lonely-
shepherds' huts.

I am fairly lost in delighted wonder, and we are
glad when the train rolls into Timaru, and we get
housed in the comfortable Grosvenor Hotel, and
find time to draw breath, and try to realize the in-
finite alterations which have taken place in twenty
years of busy colonial life.

******

Time has indeed made many changes here.
When I last visited Timaru, I sailed up from Lyt-
telton, in a small coasting tub of a steamer.
There was a terrific ground swell off the open
beach of shingle, and the breakers rolled their
curling crests landwards with a roar and crash like
thunder. All landing, both cargo and passengers,
was done in huge unwieldy surf-boats. And it

1 54 Our New Zealand Cousins.

was a very rare experience, indeed, to get ashore
with a dry skin. The boats — big and heavy as
they were — were not unfrequently tossed aloft like
chips, and sent rolling up on the shingle, bottom
upward like so much driftwood. Lives were not
unfrequently lost and goods often sacrificed.

The village boasted then of only a few shops, one
or two warehouses along the beach, and less
than half a dozen inferior hotels. The Timarn
Herald of that date was published in a very
small weatherboard hut, quite detached, and
perched on a waste hillock overlooking the ocean.
The very hill itself has now disappeared, to make
room for the railway, and the Herald is much
more suitably housed. At that time the streets
were fearfully and wonderfully made. Bullock
teams might be stuck up in the main streets until
the townspeople came to the assistance of the
teamster to dig them out. All the houses were
of wood, and were set down very much at random.
When the annual races were held, the young bloods
and station hands " from all the region round
about," " The boys " from the Mackenzie country,
the sawyers from the Waimate, the half-breeds
and " cockatoos " from Temuka and the Arowhenua
Bush, and all the " flotsam and jetsam " from every
accommodation-house within a radius of fifty miles
used to come into town, and for a lively week or
two high saturnalia used to be held.

At that time Timaru had the reputation of
being the fastest, most racketty, riotous township
in the South Island. Verily, I could a tale disclose

Our New Zealand Cousins. 155

of some of the mad, harebrained escapades of " the
boys " that would scarcely be believed in these
more prosaic, steady-paced, and orderly latter-
days. It certainly was a rough time, and a rough
place then. But now, how changed !

Timaru has grown into a city. Solid blocks of
stately shops, warehouses, and offices now line the
principal streets. The hotels are quite up to
metropolitan form. The very hills, as I have said,
have been levelled, and stately churches, a theatre,
convent, schools, banks, mills, a massive post and
telegraph office, and countless cosy homes and
handsome villas now stud the slopes where I have
erstwhile seen the peaceful sheep quietly browsing
among the tussocks.

When I first recollect the place, the post-
mistress has been heard to say to the young
telegraph clerk : " I hear you had a telegram
through this afternoon ; why didn't you tell me ? "
Yes, in the primitive time the advent of a telegram
was quite an incident. Now in the palatial post-
office the service is conducted by an army of clerks
and messengers. The hospital is really a magni-
ficent stone building, and second to none I have
yet seen in the colony. A great part of the bleak
hill, on which stood the Royal Hotel, has been
cut away to form the railway-station and shunt-
ing-yards, and quite, a large area has been re-
claimed from the relentless surf.

Now, had any one twenty years ago told me
that those shifting masses of shingle, those
travelling acres of rattling roaring boulders

156 Our New Zealand Cousins.

could be arrested, and that the fury of those
terrific surges and angry waves could be tamed,
I would have laughed the idea to scorn as the
vain imagining of a foolish visionary. And yet
the seemingly impossible has been accomplished.

Timaru, owing to the genius and skill of Mr.
Goodall, her harbour engineer, can now lay claim
to being a safe port, and big steamers and stately
ships can lie close alongside her wharves and dis-
charge their passengers and cargo in ease and
safety. How has this been accomplished ?

If we saunter down to the beach and look
around at the massive blocks of concrete, we will
see how the fury of the angry surf has been defied,
and how man's genius and perseverance has com-
pletely conquered some of the mightiest forces in
nature.

The long-reaching pier, or breakwater, is indeed
a triumph of constructive skill. The problem of
forming a secure harbour on the face of an open
coast, is difficult in any case ; but when to the
usual difficulties have to be added

" The long wash of Australasian seas,"

as the billows of the Pacific come thundering in on
the strand of shifting shingle, which makes the
New Zealand coast one of the most baffling and
unpromising sites in the world for engineering
operations, the immense arduousness of the task
which Mr. Goodall had before him, will be recog-
nized at a glance. Does it not say much for
the energy and pluck and public spirit of the

Our New Zealand Cousins. 157

community which had set its heart on having a
secure harbour, in defiance of shingly drift, and
roaring surf, and all the antagonism of wind and
wave and treacherous coast combined ? Verily,
the lesson of such courage, and resolution, and
inventive resource might well be applied by more
highly favoured communities nearer home.

Fortunately, material for the manufacture of
concrete blocks was plentiful and handy. The
shingle was forced to become the instrument of its
own subjection. Vast wooden tanks were formed
along the beach, and cement and shingle were
shovelled into these, and in time the embracing
wood was knocked asunder, and giant blocks of
concrete stood revealed. Some of these weighed
upward of thirty tons. An enormous travelling
crane was then moved up, and the block was
gripped in its Titanic clutch, and slowly carried
outwards and dropped into its assigned position.
The whole was then cemented together by more
concrete. In vain might the angry surges dash
against that callous mass. In vain might the
shifting shingle with a snaky hiss, seethe and toss
around the unyielding block. Bit by bit the solid
rampart grew, side by side the mighty blocks
showed a firm immovable front to the baffled
waves. It boots not to tell of the numberless con-
trivances brought to bear on the task by the
cunning skill of the engineer. Amid interruptions
and partial breaks and a ceaseless war with the
forces of nature, that properly viewed, completely
eclipses the fabled battles of classic mythology,

158 Our New Zealand Cousins.

the good work went steadily on ; and now, after
the lapse of so many years, as I stood on the
broad massive immovable rampart, listening to the
hungry surge as it rushed impotently against the
majestic buttress of the protecting pier— as I saw
the sheltered ships idly rocking in calm security,
and remembered the surf-boats and tossing cockle-
shell of a steamer of the former times — I felt
indeed that here was a triumph worthy of the age
— a prodigy of beneficent achievement that sheds
a lustre on the name of humanity.

Mr. Goodall, in his own modest way, thus writes
me regarding the great work which will henceforth
be associated with his name : —

" It had always been the wish of many of the
leading residents of Timaru and neighbourhood
to construct a safe harbour for Timaru, the
hindrance to which seemed to be in the great force
of the waves and the large quantity of shingle
travelling on the coast. An experimental groin
was constructed by Mr. Balfour, and reports were
obtained from many leading English and colonial
engineers. The experimental work was first buried
in shingle, then washed away shortly after it was
constructed ; and the reports of the engineers were
directly opposed to building a solid structure from
the shore. The Harbour Board were not satisfied,
and, as a last resource, called for competitive plans
for a. harbour scheme. That of the present writer
was chosen, and was approved of by a Government
commission. This scheme proposed to construct

Our New Zealand Cousins. 159

a solid breakwater of concrete blocks thirty-six
feet wide, reaching to half-tide in height ; then
capped with a monolithic concrete block of
about five hundred tons in weight. This wall
was to extend to about 1000 feet from low water-
mark in a north-east direction, and then turn in
a northerly direction 700 feet or 800 feet ;
it was to be six feet above high water spring
tides, and would have twenty feet of water at
spring low tides at the extremity. The work was
started and succeeded, withstood the force of the
waves, and was not swallowed up by the travelling
shingle, which was swept back by the backwash of
the waves. This backwash is caused by the reflec-
tion of the waves from the face of the mole ; it
sweeps back the approaching shingle, or retards its
advance, and by its action the shingle line adjacent
to the breakwater has been stationary for the last
four years. When the works were carried out
1000 feet, its success was so self-evident that the
Harbour Board determined to extend the mole
another 400 feet, and the cant to the north to 200
feet, and also to strengthen the section. It is also
proposed to build a mole from the shore on the
north towards the extremity of the cant, and so
produce a nearly enclosed harbour. The area of
this harbour will be 180 acres, and when completed,
will be perfect and commodious. Now, although
only a small portion of the cant has been built,
along with the straight mole from the shore, ac-
commodation gained is already invaluable. Vessels
of 1000 tons can anchor to the lee of the break-

i6o Our New Zealand Cousins.

water in perfect safety, can also come alongside
the wharf attached to the breakwater, and load and
unload with perfect ease and great dispatch, even
when there is a heavy sea running and breaking
over the breakwater. All this has not been ob-
tained without some trouble, for at times the angry
seas have knocked about the concrete blocks as if
they were of wood, and on one occasion threw
down 100 feet in length of the mole, distributing
the blocks over the bottom to forty feet from the
line of works. This portion of the work had not
been capped with the monolithic block, which
would have bound all together. It is notable
in this work that whatever has been finished with
the coping, has in no instance ever given way or
subsided, in spite of the many violent seas that are
so prevalent. The concrete blocks used, weigh
about thirty tons each, and are placed in position
with perfect ease and expedition by a large travel-
ling steam crane that has been tested to forty-five
tons. This crane weighs 120 tons, and is worked
by one man. There are two of these cranes in the
works. They were both manufactured in the
colony.

The works will cost, when the present contract
is completed, extending over 180 feet further,
210,000!. The Board are applying to Parliament
for another loan, ioo,ooo/., for prosecuting the
works ; but this will not complete the works as
designed.

The success of this work has tempted Napier, in
the North Island, to try a similar scheme, the con-

Our New Zealand Cousins. 161

ditions of sea and travelling shingle in the two
coasts being almost identical. During last session
of Parliament, powers were obtained for 3OO,ooo/.
for the works, and a start has already been
made."

*r» ^K 5|C 5fC 3jC 3fC

To resume my personal narrative.

At fitful intervals during my world-wide wander-
ings, I had now and again heard a scrap of news
about some of my old companions of the long ago
Timaru life. Of the kindly group which used to
sit round the table in the old station, in the
peaceful and prosperous squatting days, how many
had gone down under the waters of oblivion. Of
the rollicking old hands that used to applaud my
songs in the vast shadowy woolshed, when the
busy day was at an end, and the flickering light
from tallow pots with some blazing rags in them,
cast a Rembrandt-like glare on the swarthy faces
around, how many had " pegged out " in the game
of life ! How few survived ! Thus I pondered as
I idly strolled down the street, when suddenly I
bethought me that one of the old station hands
had found an anchorage in Timaru, and was now
reported to be a wealthy burgess and a well-to-do
livery-stable keeper.

Away then I hurried to King's stables. There
sure enough, with, I could almost have sworn, the
same Glengarry cap, though hair and whiskers
were now frosted and grizzled — there stood old
Jim King, the " orra man" of the station in my
younger days. Jim was a douce shrewd plough-

M

1 62 Our New Zealand Cousins.

man from, I think, Donside, and many a day he
and I had pushed and pulled the heavy cross-cut
saw, or wielded axe and maul together in the
Otaio bush in the olden days.

Jim's astonishment when I greeted him by
name was very amusing. He did not recognize
me ; but remembered me when I asked after the
young cadet he had known so long ago. My
interview with poor Jim was worth all the pil-
grimage, and before I left Timaru he brought
most of the surviving friends of my early days
to see me.

Ah me ! these meetings in after life ; are they
not full of pathos ? What a record of deaths and
failures, as we call up the muster roll which
memory suggests.

How essentially colonial, too, these chance
meetings. How quickly the comradeship is
formed. How soon, may be, to be sundered, and
yet " once a mate always a mate " in the colonies.
We had not seen each other for over twenty
years, and yet the old bush, the wool-shed, the
whare, with its idle group of Crimean-shirted,
black-bearded stockmen, shepherds, bullock-pun-
cher, horse-breakers, fencers, and general rouse-
abouts, as they used to muster on the quiet Sunday,
all came back to us ; and as naturally, as if no
time had since elapsed, big with changes to both
of us, we reverted to the old days ; and long-
forgotten names and incidents came to our lips,
as eager query and rejoinder passed between us.

" Old Donald ; you remember him ? "

. O^tr New Zealand Cousins. 1 63

" Oh, man ; poor old beggar, he's still alive ;
but over eighty. Living with so-and-so."

"And old Jack, the bullock-driver?"

" Oh, he went to the diggings. I lost sight of
him."

" And George A ? "

" Went to Australia. I hear from him occa-
sionally."

" What became of Harry ? "

" Man ; he went all to the bad. Broke his neck
one night coming home from a spree."

And so we called the roll. Some were drowned.
Some lost sight of. Very, very few had been
prosperous. Many were dead. Some had left
the country. How strange it all seemed to recall
the past, and for the moment feel as if all the
busy years had not been, and that we were shapely,
active youngsters once again.

Alas ! I saw that poor Jim was a cripple on
one leg from a fall, and he surveyed the uncom-
promising rotundity of my substantial middle age,
and we felt that

Limbs grow auld, and hair grows grey,
However young the heart may be.

There is good hunting round about Timaru.
Three packs of beagles are kept. The hares are
enormous in size, and the jumping is good. There
are a fine set of hearty fellows in the Timaru
district ; and, for a change from the sweltering
heat of New South Wales in summer time, a month
or two's residence in Timaru would be delightful.
M 2

1 64 Our New Zealand Cousins.

In a street leading up from the post-office is a
monolith, which is sure to be pointed out to the
visitor. It is commemorative of a gallant act of
British daring and generous self-sacrifice, and is
worthy to be recorded. On the tablets, which face
three sides of the pillar, you read —

This Monument
is raised to commemorate the generous

and noble self-sacrifice of those who
gladly encountered the peril of death in the

heroic endeavour to save their

fellow-men on Sunday, the I4th May, 1882,

when the City of Perth and the Ben-venue

were wrecked at Timaru.
" Greater love hath no man than this
That a man lay down his life for his friends."

From the other tablets one learns that nine of
the noble, self-sacrificing band perished, including
Mills, the harbour-master, and Blacklock and
Gardener, first and second mates of the City of
Perth.

Timaru altogether was an intense surprise to
me. I could scarcely realize the changes. The
village had become a city. Nothing more
forcibly brought home to me the marvellous
progression of the age in which we live, and
the resistless vitality and boundless resources of
our race.

And what a contrast — to turn from the throng-
ing streets, the crowded pier, the hum of commerce,
and din of busy industries, and lift one's eyes
to the calm white crests of the Eternal Hills.
There they stood, ever the same, solemn and
majestic in their changelessness. They blazed

Our New Zealand Cousins. 165

up their burnished pinnacles like pyres of flame
in the still air, amid their drapery of mists, and
trailing wreaths of cloudlets, and the intense vivid-
ness of their immaculate whiteness, is the memory
of Timaru that is now most indelibly fixed on my
mind.

1 66 Our New Zealand Cousins.

CHAPTER XIII.

" The old order changed " — A fine farming country — A
literary pedlar — Otago scenery — Wealth of water — The
Clutha country — A colonial manse — The minister's lot a
hard one — Kindly relations between pastor and people
— Tree-planting — Slovenly fanning — An angler's para-
dise— Gore township — The Waimea Valley — A night
ride.

WE started from Timaru on a bright sunny day,
and passed first through a magnificent farming
district. Ploughing was being actively pursued,
and myriads of friendly gulls were following the
plough, and finding fat delicacies in the upturned
furrows. My eye follows the old track, along
which I have galloped " many a time and oft,"
astride " the old chestnut," in the golden days of
my youth. At that time there were only two
houses between "the head station " and the town.
Now, villages, hamlets, and farms stud the country-
side as thick as blackberries. The fight was just
beginning then, " Sheep v. Settlers," and sheep
have lost the day. Settlement here is most
complete, and the evidences of rural wealth are
everywhere abundant.

At Makikiki, for instance, I find a snug village.
A steam threshing-machine is at work in a field
close to the railway station, and as far as the eye

Our New Zealand Cousins. 167

can reach, it follows farm after farm, and takes in
cottages, corn-ricks, trim plantations, hedge-rows,
and busy ploughing teams in its comprehensive
survey.

When I was last here, Makikiki was purely a
flax swamp, with not a human habitation within
miles of it ; and it was only famous as being a
grand shooting ground for ducks.

Waimate too ! I remember when there was but
the home station here, one " bush pub.," and
forge, and a few sawyers' huts. Now the dense
bush has all been cut away. Waimate is the
terminus of a branch railway, and can boast
stores, hotels, and buildings equal to most country
towns — verily " the former things have passed
away, and lo, now all things have become new."

We cross the Waitaki, one of the snow-fed
rivers, by another lengthy bridge, and I recall to
my mind the old punt which used to convey
passengers precariously across in the olden time.
Oamaru presents the same amphitheatre of grassy
knolls, but the tussocks on the heights are gone.
Villas and gardens have taken their place. The
town looks gay and lively, the white stone giving
it quite a palatial look. What enormous stores !
What mills ! woollen factory ! cheese factory !
saw mills ! &c. In fact, a repetition of Timaru.
Another breakwater in the bay. All this since I
was here last.

Ascending the steep incline, we emerge upon
a succession of broken, tumbled slopes. Grand
farms here. The farmers are lifting their potatoes

1 68 Our New Zealand Cousins.

and the long rows of well-filled sacks testify to the
fertility of the soil. We pass the famous quarries
of white stone, and looking over the surrounding
country, can see numerous evidences of volcanic
action in the circular mounds which stud the land-
scape. Sites of extinct fumaroles and geysers
these.

Away to the left the Pacific reflects the rays of
the afternoon sun. Moeraki Lighthouse glistens
in the warm light, and the sheen sparkles on lovely
bays, and glistens along the wavy line of great
curling breakers on the beach.

Yonder is Shag Point jutting out into deep
water. There is a colliery at work at the extreme
verge of the headland. Otago is rich in minerals,
and her coalfields are important and extensive.

Palmerston is a pretty town in a hollow, sur-
rounded by hills, low and undulating. The Salva-
tion Army has been doing a great work here.
The leaders were two lasses, and they have
succeeded in enlisting a large following, and have
shut up several hotels. So we are informed by a
polite, though pale young gentleman, who makes
himself very pleasant, gives us much unsolicited
information, and winds up by wanting to sell us a
few celluloid cuffs and collars.

In self-sacrificing gratitude, we pass him on to a
burly farmer, who eventually, on our recommenda-
tion, purchases a set, and doubtless made a very
good bargain. This peripatetic peddling we find
to be a feature of the railways here. The pedlar is
generally employed by the leading newspapers to

Our New Zealand Cousins. 169

secure lists of passengers and odd items of news ;
but he will sell you books, periodicals, refresh-
ments, wild ducks, and other game shot by himself,
and, as in this case, celluloid collars and cuffs. I
daresay the young gentleman would have insured
our lives, or taken our portraits had we been so
disposed ; and he possibly would have been able to
arrange for our funerals in case of an accident.
We live and learn. Literature, commerce, and
sport, here go hand in hand.

At Puketeraki there is a small native settlement
of about fifty adults, and here we pass the first
native bush we have seen to-day. This is one of
the very few remaining native settlements in Otago.
There are only now some six or eight families.
" How are the mighty fallen !" No more war
dances and freebooting forays, ending with a canni-
bal feast nowadays. The men farm a little now,
and subsist on the keep of a few sheep. "

We are now nearing Dunedin. Through the
gathering gloom we can see the white gleam of
curling breakers on the cliffs beneath us. We are
dashing along at a breakneck pace above the
moaning sea, midway up the cliffy heights. The
scenery here, we are told, is very grand and awe-
inspiring. We can well believe it, but alas for
the veil of darkness which hides each charm from
view. Soon we see the motley heights of Port
Chalmers ; anon, the long serried rows of lamp
lights in the steep streets of the great city itself.
They look like the watch-fires of a great army,
bivouacking among the hills. The train rolls into

i /o Our New Zealand Cousins.

the station. We are in Dunedin. Hey ! for the
comforts and luxuries of the Grand Hotel ; and,
as we are very tired, we hurry off to bed. Dunedin
is worthy of a chapter to itself, and we will not
pause now, but continue our trip to the lakes, and
return to Dunedin later on.

******

Leaving the straggling station, the city opens
out towards the sea, at Ocean Beach. A great
flat of reclaimed land is here being rapidly built
upon, and at Cavcrsham there are many good shops,
and nice houses.

Forbury Fort, one of the new defences, is rapidly
approaching completion, and will protect the city
from any bombardment by a hostile cruiser sea-
ward. Above the fort the most prominent
landmark is the stately mansion of Mr. E. B.
Cargill, whose father was one of the pioneers of
Otago, and founders of Dunedin. A monument
to his memory graces the great space in the
centre of the city. We dash rapidly, with a shrill
scream from the engine, through a long tunnel,
and on the farther side come in view of the
numerous buildings of the New Zealand Drug
and Chemical Works. The country around con-
sists of open grassy downs, and at the foot of a
high conical wooded hill nestles the neat little
village of Burnside. It is a typical Otago village.
There is a very pretty church, a large tannery,
a fellmongery, a wool mill, with its long flume
or water-race on high trestles, carrying water
to the noisy, sparkling wheel. All the valleys

Our New Zealand Cousins. i 7 1

and slopes around are dotted with bright
houses. A sluggish creek meanders through the
marshy reaches of the lower valley, broadening
as it goes, till near the beach it widens into
a lake, which gleams like silver in the morning
rays.

Another long tunnel leads us now into a richly
cultivated valley with numerous farms, the thin
scraping of snow on the low-lying hills betokening
that winter is at hand.

In this valley lies Mossgiel. Its tweed factory
is favourably known all over Australasia, and the
products of its looms have achieved a reputation
for excellence, equal in its way to those of the
famous West of England fabrics. Beyond the tidy
trim-looking village rise bold hills, white with
their winter vestments. The whole scene, with its
snug farms, peaceful herds, clean-cut stubble, trim
hedge-rows, and smiling village in the plain, and
the white solitary grandeur of the lone silent
mountains beyond, affords one of those sharp en-
joyable contrasts which are so characteristic of
New Zealand scenery.

As we move still further south, evidences of the
abnormal rigour of an exceptionally early and
severe snowstorm are everywhere apparent. The
valleys are all flooded. Shattered trees with
broken branches cumbering the ground, give the
orchards a mournful look. The very flax and raupo
clumps have been broken and flattened, and in
many straths the stooks are rotting in the sodden
fields. And this is only the early part of May.

172 Our New Zealand Cousins.

Now we skirt Lake Waihola, generally a clear
shallow bed of water, averaging a depth of about
twelve feet. It is now muddy and turbid, and
swollen with the floods from a branch of the Taieri
River, which flows into it. A piercing wind comes
whistling over the Taieri plains, and lashes the lake
into mimic mountains.

Oh, could I but transport this wealth of water to
poor drought-smitten Australia. " Water, water,
everywhere " here. Lakes, streams, standing pools.
Great shallow meres, with crowds of wild ducks,
stocks standing in water in many of the fields.
The bare brown hills, and cheerless stubbles, all
dank and sodden with the plashing rain. All the
noses in the carriages are blue. Our feet feel like
lead, and it is very hard, indeed, to resist the de-
pressing influence of the cold.

At and about Stirling there is a lakelet in every
hollow, and the snow is lying very low down on
the hills. Near by, at Kaitangata, there are some
rather famous coal-mines, which are being vigor-
ously opened out and worked.

We are now in the Clutha district. All the
settlers are Scotch here, with but a few excep-
tions. They are deep-chested, big-headed, ruddy-
faced people. Kindly hearted and keenly intelli-
gent, they are the right stamp of men to found a
noble nation.

The Clutha country is prettily diversified and
more wooded than the long ranges of dun hills
and undulating slopes we have been passing
hitherto. The Clutha River is a broad stream,

Our New Zealand Cousins. 1 73

swift and brown with flood. The town of Bal-
clutha is unhappily situated on a flat, which is
liable to inundations from the river. Four years
ago the bridge was washed away. The churches
are very ornamental, and form a noticeable fea-
ture here, as indeed they do in every settlement
in Otago. The early fathers evidently did " not
forsake the assembling of themselves together as
the manner of some is."

A few more miles, and we alight at a quiet little
wayside station, where we are hospitably met by
the minister of the parish, a younger brother,
whom I have not seen for several years. We are
soon snugly ensconced in the cosy little country
manse, and the evening is devoted to asking and
answering such questions as the reader can well
imagine embrace a wide range of subjects.

I spent the greater part of a pleasant week with
the good young minister and his comely, buxom
wife and bonny black-eyed bairnie. The quiet,
homely atmosphere of the manse, the hearty
greetings of the kindly, simple country folks ; the
peace and quiet of the secluded " pairish " were
inexpressively grateful, after the hurry and bustle
of city life ; and yet a little of such life would go a
long way with me. A country pastor's life is no
bed of roses in the colonies. The roads in winter
are shockingly bad. The parish generally is of
great extent, and the mere physical labour in-
volved, in faithfully discharging pastoral duties,
such as ministering to the sick and sorrowing,
would tax severely the energies of a strong, robust

1 74 Oit,r New Zealand Cousins.

man. He has to preach three times on Sundays,
in three different centres, and must keep up his
studies if he is to-be a faithful and successful
minister. He is often called upon to undertake
duties outside his own parish, and the cares of
schools, church organizations, presbytery and
synod meetings, are exacting and incessant. He
must take an active part in all social movements
in his neighbourhood, and beside his own imme-
diate daily troubles, must have a ready ear and
sympathizing heart for every tale of sorrow or
distress that may be brought to him. With the
education and tastes of a gentleman, he must be
ever among the people — of the people — a minis-
tering, comforting source of strength and enlighten-
ment to his people, reflecting the temper and
character of the Master whose servant he is.
And, alas ! how often is he fated to have his
motives misinterpreted ; his best and purest in-
tentions misrepresented ; his brightest and holiest
aspirations sneered at and maligned. The wonder
is that so many highly cultured, sensitive men are
found for the office of the ministry, when worldly
callings offer so much more tempting and tangible
inducements.

It was peculiarly gratifying to me to see the
cordial relations that existed between my good
young brother and his flock. The stipend of an
Otago clergyman is but 22O/. a year, no more
than the salary of a good clerk ; but this sordid
view of their position does not present itself to
the young fellows I was privileged to meet, and

Our New Zealand Coiisins. \ 75

the kindly regard and affectionate esteem of the
farmers and their young folks are immeasurably
above all money value. The relations subsisting
between people and pastor were much more like
the old home life than anything I had yet seen in
the Australian colonies.

A great spiritual work is being done in these
remote little country places. A really pretty new
church had been built in the south half of this
parish, and opened free of debt. The young
people especially had been wakened up to a lively
interest in the higher life, and both by precept and
example the young ministers I met in this part of
New Zealand were approving themselves "good
workmen, needing not to be ashamed." They take
an active, intelligent part in secular matters, as well
as sacred, and are a credit to the good old true
blue Presbyterian stock.

A good impulse, for instance, had been given to
tree-planting in the parish, the minister having
set the example by adorning the bare spaces round
the manse and church ; but many other good im-
pulses were working far beneath the surface, and
producing good fruits of unselfish acts and purer
lives.

Amid all the crudities and falsities of modern
infidelity, the sneerings and scoffings of indifferen-
tists, and contemptuous isolation of Pharisaic
sectarians, it was positively refreshing to get into
this warm atmosphere of Christian-loving regard
for each other between pastor and flock, and I
can never forget the heartiness of the welcome

1 76 Our New Zealand Cousins.

I received from these shrewd yet simple far-
mers, just because I was the brother of their
minister.

The roads were awful, as I have said, but
equestrianism is the favourite mode of progres-
sion here. Every youngster has his horse, and
is usually followed by a motley retinue of dogs,
who wage incessant vendetta against the ubiqui-
tous rabbits. Ploughing was general over all the
downs. Potatoes were being dug up, and stored
in winter pits. Occasionally the smoke from a
peripatetic threshing-machine would darken the
air round some busy farm, and at times can be
noticed another less pleasing smoke, as some
slovenly farmer adopts the wasteful agency of
fire to get rid of his surplus straw. Frequent
cropping of the same cereal, either oats or wheat
without rotation, has produced its inevitable
result in some places here, as it will elsewhere ;
but why farmers anywhere will disregard the
plain teachings of experience and common sense,
goes beyond my comprehension. The straw
which is so foolishly burnt might be used in an
open courtyard to give comfort and warmth to the
farm animals in winter. It could be cut up into
chaff and mixed with chopped roots and a little
salt, and in this way form a valuable fodder.
Mixed with lime and earth, and allowed to rot, it
forms a valuable fertilizer. But to burn it is a sin-
ful waste, and I was surprised that douce, steady,
thrifty Scotchmen should adopt such an insane
method with so valuable a material.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 177

The University of Otago has recently taken a
new departure in a most sensible and practical
direction, in sending travelling professors to lecture
to the mining population on the chemistry and
technology of rocks, ores, &c. They might well
enlarge their field, and give lectures to farmers on
chemistry of soils, rotation of crops, adaptations
of mechanics to farming processes, and on other
subjects of practical importance to farmers.

But of this more anon.

We left the peaceful manse of Warepa with many
regrets, and passing through a bare pastoral and
agricultural country, with little of interest in the
scenery, reached Gore, the bustling little town
where the Waimea cross-roads railway branches
off through the fertile but bare Waimea plains, to
join the Lakes line at Lumsden.

All the burns and streams in this part of the
country are well stocked with trout, and in the
season this is quite an angler's paradise. The
Mataura River, a stream of some magnitude, tra-
verses the Waimea plains, and runs past Gore. It
is full of trout. The price of a fishing licence is
twenty shillings for the season.

Gore, eighteen years ago, had not even a house
to boast of. It was only a police camp, and a few
canvas tents constituted the township. It is now
the busy centre of a fine farming district. It has
a great saw-mill, a flour-mill or two, and some
capital stores, hotels, banks, and other buildings
lining its well-laid-out streets.

It lies at the mouth of the wide Waimea Valley.

N

178 Our New Zealand Cousins.

On both sides we see stretching away to the far
horizon, like gleaming barriers of marble, tier on
tier, terrace on terrace, peak on pinnacle, and
pinnacle on peak, of the cold, glittering, alpine
Cordilleras, every point being glorified by the
slanting rays of a declining sun, glinting down
from between bars of gold and amber and purple,
until at length he sinks suddenly behind a
Sierra, and the valley is rapidly enswathed in the
sombre veil of a wintry night.

Intensely cold, and very hungry and weary, we
bowl along through the darkness ; and at length,
about ten o'clock, are rejoiced to see the red lights
of the Mountaineer gleaming on the waters of Lake
Wakatipu as she floats alongside the wooden wharf
at Kingston.

T/9

CHAPTER XIV.

Up the dark silent lake — Dawn on Lake Wakatipu — " The
Remarkables " — Oueenstown — Chinamen gold-diggers —
Lake scenery — Von River — Greenstone Valley — The
Rees and Dart rivers — Head of the lake — Kitty Gregg
— Peculiarities of the mountains — The terrace formation
— The old Scotch engineer — Frankton Valley — Farmers'
feathered foes — Lake Hayes — Arrive at Arrowtown.

IT was a bitterly cold night, that on which we
sailed up the silent lake, through the darkness, to
Queenstown. The end at Kingston was formerly
the outlet, but during some great glacial cataclysm
the moraines must have filled the valley, and raised
the level of the lake, the pent-up waters eventually
finding a fresh egress much farther up, by the
Kawarau Falls into the Kawarau Valley.

The lower end of the lake is not nearly so
picturesque as the upper. Still it was eerie, in
the extreme. This silent gliding up the unknown
vista, with giant mountains snow-covered and
silent on either hand, like wraiths and spectres,
keeping watch and ward over the mysterious
depths below. The churning swish of the
paddles alone broke the deathly stillness. The
cold was intense. But soon the fragrant odour
of grilled steak stole on the frosty air, and all
poetry was banished for a time, while we satisfied

N 2

i So Our New Zealand Cousins.

our hunger from the choice cuisine of the Moun-
taineer

The Mountaineer, I should mention, is not the
least wonder in this region of wonders. It is a
perfect little craft, clean as an admiral's launch,
comfortable as a first-class hotel, and one marvels
to find a steamer of such elegance and pretensions
so far away from salt water. Captain Wing, a
son of the old harbour-master of Hobson's Bay, is
a debonair and pleasant cicerone, and takes a
kindly pleasure in showing the beauties of the
lake to any passenger who betrays an interest in
his surroundings.

This dark, cold, lonely progression up the lake,
was, however, a fitting prelude to the marvellous
panorama of beauty which broke upon our en-
raptured sight next morning.

My Scottish blood fired with rapture at the
sight of that wondrous vision across the lake. At
our feet the steely blue expanse rippled and gently
undulated under the breath of morning. Beyond
a mighty mountain range pierces the clouds, which
have settled in dense fleecy folds upon the ragged
peaks. The mist hangs midway between the
upper heights, and the steely lake below. To the
left a chain of sharp peaks extend, barred and
ridgy, and flecked with wreaths of snow, which
seems to have been driven and stamped into their
black, rugged sides by the stormy winds which
at times rave and howl with fury down the passes.
These peaks are known as the far-famed Remark-
ables. And far away down the lake, vista after

Our New Zealand Cousins. 181

vista opens up of the grim snowy sentinels, that
looked down on us through the darkness of the
night. In a few sheltered crevices, here and there
cowers a scanty handful of stunted trees and
shrubs, as if huddling for shelter from the biting
blasts that with icy breath come hurtling and howl-
ing down the gorges from the fields of snow.
What a scene of desolate grandeur! I had heard
of the majesty of the mountains of Wakatipu ; but
the reality beggared all description. We are en-
compassed on every hand by these mighty masses,
and could fancy them djinns, guarding the valley
of desolation from all contact with the outside
world.

The horizon is 'crowded thick with hoary
giants ; and beyond their utmost pinnacles the
scene is circumscribed by a band of black-blue
leaden cloud ; save where, behind us, closing in
the valley at the back of Queenstown, a drapery
of purest white has settled down on the moun-
tains, with not a speck sullying its absolute
purity.

Down on the little wharf two stalwart lakes-
men are discharging a cargo of firewood from
a melancholy-looking ketch ; and a blue-faced
teamster is vigorously blowing on his chilled
fingers. The whistle of the Mountaineer wakes
the echoes, and hastily dressing, we sally forth
from Mrs. Eichardt's cosy hotel and embark once
more on the tidy little steamer whose hospitality
we have already tested.

Going up the lake the most noteworthy peaks

1 82 Our New Zealand Coiisins.

passed in succession are these : Mount Cecil
Walter Peak, the broad dome of Mount Nicholas,
the Round Peak, Tooth Peak, and then the
wondrous glory of the Humboldt ranges. On the
right, or Queenstown side, the ranges start with
White Point, then Mount Crighton, Mirror Peak,
Stone Peak, and Mount Larkins ; while at the top
of the lake stand out prominently like very Sauls
among the others, Mounts Alfred and Earnslaw,
the latter 9200 feet high. There are a few patches
of cultivation at intervals around the lake ; but
several of the sheep-runs have been abandoned
owing to the ravages made by rabbits. Walter
Peak station was sold the other day for a mere
song ; and Cameron's run was similarly sacrificed
only a few months ago, the rabbits having
regularly starved out the sheep. Phosphorized
oats have been laid everywhere, and gangs of
rabbitters are out all over the country ; but much
of it is so wild and inaccessible to all but the
bunnies themselves that these virtually are masters
of the situation.

My sharp ear catches the sing-song jabber of
Chinamen forward. What can have lured the
followers of Confucius to this inhospitable and
out-of-the-way region ? Verily, these celestials
deserve the name they sometimes get, " The Scotch-
man of the East," for they are ubiquitous. Not
that the canny Caledonian feels much flattered by
the comparison. These men are gold-diggers, pro-
ceeding to the top of the lake. Lots of coarse gold
is found hereabouts, mostly from surface sluicing)

O2ir New Zealand Cousins. 183

but various reefs are also being profitably worked.
During two months of the year the cold is so
intense that work is stopped.

We are evidently destined to behold the lake in
one of its sulky moods. The clouds are hovering
ominously near the mountain tops. A mantle of
thick mist is already creeping over the face of the
crags, as if to hide their gruesome nakedness.

The name of the valley here has a grim sugges-
tiveness. It is called Insolvent Valley. So called
owing to two impecunious ones having managed to
cross the lake, and elude their clamorous creditors
by threading the passes on horseback, and getting
safely away to Lumsden, and the outside world.

At Rat Point we turn the elbow of the lake, and
get a glorions view far up its wondrous expanse.
The three islands named respectively Tree, Pig,
and Pigeon Islands, nestle on the water ahead ;
and beyond, the eye tries to pierce the obscurity
of a wild glen, filled with curling volumes of mist,
that lifting at intervals, show mighty pinnacles
of rock, and fields of snow stretching into the
mysterious distance in seemingly endless con-
tinuity.

We stop to land a passenger at the mouth of
the Von River, which comes tearing down through
the gorges, bringing with it tons upon tons of
gravel and shingle, which in its shifting course,
terraces the plain, and carries ruin and desolation
in its path. During the last few years the stream
has shifted its bed fully a mile, and in its migration
it has cut away one of the finest orchards that was

1 84 Our New Zealand Cousins.

in all ths lake district. The scene now is one of
unrelieved desolation.

At intervals, as the steamer progresses, a white
gleam of silvery foam comes streaking down
through the fern, and flashes over the rocks,
marking the descent of some tumbling cascade
from the melting snows on the heights. After
heavy rains the hillsides are just one chaos of
hissing, roaring, leaping water. Every gully be-
comes a gleaming torrent. Every rocky buttress
is enveloped in seething, churning, foam. The
crash and roar of landslips is heard above the
swishing boom of the cataracts, and the wild
Walpurgis of the angry elements is held, as earth
and lake and sky blend in one mad medley of con-
vulsive sound and commingling strife.

Now we have the lake scenery in all its weird
presentment. Words utterly fail to describe the
savage grandeur of the hills above the Greenstone
River, which here comes rolling its brown waters
through a deep black cleft in the mountains.
Gusts of crapy mist are creeping, snaky-like, up
the gorge. The sides of the defile are wooded
with a dark forest mass, in fit keeping with its
surroundings. What a startling contrast to look
upward from this funereal sombreness, and gaze
on the immaculate majesty of the still, lone
mountain crags, piercing their flaming crests
through the grey canopy of cloud.

A surveyed track leads through the Greenstone
Valley to Martin's Bay, on the West Coast, only
some fifty or sixty miles distant. My good friend

Our New Zealand Cousins. 185

the Scotch engineer, waxes enthusiastic, too, as I
expatiate, with what eloquence I can command,
on the glorious scenery around us.

" Aye, man, it's juist graund," he says ; " it
only wants some big gentleman's hoose, and beech
nuts and hazel nuts, and a gamekeeper to chase
ye, to be like hame."

Luckily there are no gamekeepers here, though
to be sure there is a close season for the trout.
One magnificent trout, weighing upward of 30 Ibs.,
was caught in the lake recently, and we feasted
on a boiled trout on board which had been dried
and smoked by the cook, and was as big as a
good-sized salmon. (The trout, of course, not the
cook.)

We are now reaching the far end of the lake.
The hillsides are here heavily wooded, and have
a softer aspect than the terrible bare desolation
which marks the rugged seams and iron ridgy
bars of" The Remarkables." As we look back, too,
the three islands form a pretty foreground, and
the pitying mists 'drape the bare rocks, softening
their rugged outlines, till the scene looks like a
summer pass in the Trossachs. As ever and anon
the veil is lifted, however, the great height of the
towering mountains, here some 8000 to 9000 feet
of sheer acclivity, burns in upon the brain. The
snowy peaks rise abrupt, sheer, straight up, up,
up, like a pyre of white flame. It looks as if
earth were blazing up her very mountain tops in
sublimated essence "as a wave- offering before the
Lord." How can I describe the wondrous sight ?

1 86 Our New Zealand Cousins.

Take this mountain-side now, for instance. Let
me try, however faintly and inadequately, to pre-
sent it to you. It displays to the beholder an
epitome of every varied feature of Alpine scenery ;
from the calm blue lake on which we float
the eye seeks the skirting of wave-worn lichened
rock. The mossy weather-worn boulders girdle
the strand, draped in part by fern, and shadowed
by the hill myrtle and manukau scrub ; next the
bracken-covered slopes, with their dull, dead
greenery ; the ridgy coping beyond, dipping
yonder into a warm bosom, set thick with birch
and boughy trees ; above that again the silvery
sparkle of a hill torrent with a sheen and glitter
at every successive step, as the water leaps from
ledge to ledge, lighting up the whole picture ;
all around and above, in swelling ridges and
billowy bosses, the dun-brown stunted herbage
spreads, with here and there a warty excrescence as
the bed-rock bursts through the shrivelled, shrunken
skin, and presents its nakedness, which the trailing
mists hasten to cover. Now, as the eye ranges
higher, the mists gather thicker. The clouds
kiss the bare patches. The shroud and pall of
vaporous film drapes the scarred face with its
clinging cerements ; and higher up, peeping
through the ever-shifting upper strata of the
trailing gauze, the gleaming peak itself robed in
eternal snows, lifts up its silent witness to the
heavens, a mute protest one might fancy against
the smirched and sullied creation of the lower
firmament.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 187

Some idea of the great altitude of the mountains
here is formed from the appearance of the forests
round about Kinloch. From the deck of the
steamer the trees seem mere shrubs ; but as you
approach the shore, you are astonished to find
them great towering forest kings ; and the trunks
that seemed slender as a woman's wrist, are now
seen to be huge logs, and the sawn planks are
of a large size. Close by is an enormous water-
wheel, which works the neighbouring saw-mill.
This is said to be the largest mill-wheel in New
Zealand — indeed, some enthusiastic Maorilanders
say there is no bigger in existence. We watch the
slow revolutions, the water plashing in glittering
circles, and hear the clanging resonance of the
saws eating through the great logs. The lake
here is over 1200 feet deep, and dips down sheer
from the bank. The overhanging hills are more
than 8000 feet high.

Opposite the saw-mill, up a narrow gully called
Buckler's Burn, a party of Chinamen are at work,
and succeed in getting very fair quantities of coarse
gold. Up the Rees Valley there is a batter)'- at
work on the quartz reef known as The Invincibles.

The head of the lake possesses enough objects
of interest to detain the tourist for weeks. The
great Lake Valley itself terminates in a long
triangular flat, through which come tearing down
the rapid waters of the Rees and Dart. The
exploration of these valleys is rewarded by the
discovery of waterfalls, cataracts, gorges of sur-
passing grandeur, glaciers of fascinating beauty,

1 88 Our New Zealand Cousins.

and artistic peeps such as may be equalled in the
Himalayas, but surely are nowhere surpassed on
this planet of ours.

Beyond the flat rise snowy cones and isolated
pinnacles, and the eye follows peak after peak, and
snowfield after snowfield, till vision loses itself
amid the blinding whiteness of Mount Earnslaw,
uncontaminated as yet by the touch of human tread.

A Mr. Mason owns a very beautiful bit of fairy
land here, adorned with beauteous vegetation, and
which goes by the name of Paradise. It is not
inaptly named. On the hither side a Mr. Haynes,
an Irish storekeeper, has recently purchased a
property ; and, with Hibernian humour, has
christened it Purgatory, because, as he says, " you
must pass through Purgatory before you reach
Paradise."

We have just been lucky enough to get a
glimpse of Earnslaw's hoary crown. Now a wild
blinding sleet comes down, and hides all the
glorious panorama from our gaze ; and, as the
steam whistle screams hoarsely, as if in emula-
tion of the shrieking storm, we seek "the seclu-
sion that our cabin grants " to thaw our icy feet
and fingers, and muse on the marvellous glory
of crag and peak, and laks and fell that enwraps
us all around.

At Kinloch, the tourist will find every comfort
at Bryant's Hotel. At Glenorchy, on the other
side, Mr. Birley has clean and comfortable
quarters at your disposal, and is attentive to
your every want.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 189

At Bryant's, Kitty Gregg, the guide, was pointed
out to us. She is renowned through all the lake
country as a daring and accomplished horsewoman.
Can handle an oar like a Beach, and an axe in a
style that would make Gladstone envious. Bred
and reared amid these rocky pastures and wild
solitudes, she knows every foot of the country, and
is as free, fearless, and independent as the winds
that whistle round Mount Earnslaw. Woe betide
the " rash intruding fool," who in his self-sufficiency
would presume on Kitty's sex to give himself airs,
or attempt any familiarity. We heard of one case
where she left a coxcomb to find his way home by
himself, and he getting lost in the mountains was
glad humbly to sue for pardon, and accept Kitty's
guidance into safety after she had thoroughly
frightened him by a temporary desertion. Kitty
is evidently a lake institution, and much respected
by all the dwellers round about.

I am not sure but that the mountains at the
top of the lake are not even in some respects
more remarkable than " The Remarkables " them-
selves."

They all rise at the same angle from the valley.
Their ridgy backs all point in the same direction,
and each terminates in a cliffy point very similar in
shape. Each is a counterpart of the other, and are
all clad in the same livery of black spots and streaks
and silver scales. I could not help the fancy being
engendered that they were a school of gigantic dol-
phins suddenly frozen into ice, as by the fiat of some
dev or djinn, as they were taking a ten-thousand-foot

1 90 Our New Zealand Cousins.

plunge upward, from the still blue depths of the
abyss. They look in their regularity of outline
just like so many great fish, and I do not think the
simile at all a strained one.

On the Glenorchy side are some very perfect
examples of the terrace formation, which is one of
the most extraordinary of the geological pheno-
mena which abound on all hands. The top
terrace is named the Bible. It has a breadth of
eighty or ninety acres, and is as flat as a book,
though why it gets the 'name I could not find out.
There is no doubt that each terrace was succes-
sively the lake level, and as the waters sank, owing
to the cutting away of the rim at the Kawarau
Gorge, these steps of this giant's staircase were
left in their present regularity. Now, of course,
great gaps and chasms are being torn through
them by the incoming waters, and another terrace
is forming at the present level of the lake. The
waters will again recede, and fresh terraces be
formed, until in time a valley will be left with the
conjoined waters of the Rees and Dart foaming
through it, in a deep gorge, just as the Kawarau
now tears down through its rocky channel.

The crowning feature of the whole view is, of
course, Mount Earnslaw. He rises from the flat
of two abrupt ridges, enclosing a vast glacier
between. The ridges gradually draw together,
and at the point of convergence a majestic mass
shoots up into the heavens, like a pyramid of
glory, and the great, glistening, white expanse is
Mount Earnslaw.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 1 9 1

The mighty battlements round the lake, with
their piebald ridges, and black spots, look like the
grim walls of some old Afghan hill fort, riddled
with bullets, and torn and rent by fierce onslaughts
of the foe.

Close to Pigeon Island there is a very pretty
pass between the island end and the main land. The
cabbage-trees, green sward, and verdant bush (for
there are no rabbits on this island, and grass and
sheep are consequently abundant) are charming
by contrast with the bare desolation of the snowy
ridges. The passage close to the three islands is
the prettiest peep on the whole lake. It is pretty.
The rest is grand.

The keen mountain air had whetted my appe-
tite, and we were glad to hear the summons of the
bell to lunch. We found the cuisine most excel-
lent on board the Mountaineer, and some lake
trout, smoked d la Findon haddock, a second time
tempted me to make rather a display of my gas-
tronomic powers. Old Thomas Thompson, the
Scotch engineer, I noticed eyeing me rather dubi-
ously, and I fancied he was putting some con-
straint on his appetite. I afterwards found he had
some reason to doubt the too facile pen of the
peripatetic scribe, inasmuch as his appetite for
porridge had already been made the butt of " The
Vagabond's " ' sacrilegious sarcasm. It seems that
on the occasion of " The Vagabond's " ' visit, poor
Thompson had made the porridge disappear with

1 "The Vagabond," Mr. Julian Thomas, a well-known
writer and special commissioner for the Melbourne Argus.

1 92 Our New Zealand Cousins.

a celerity which must have roused Mr. Thomas'
envy. At all events the allusion he made to " the
porridge-eating engineer" in his letters to the
Argus, was taken hold of by the small wits of the
place, and henceforth poor Thompson's life was
made a burden to him by constant allusions to the
satisfying dish so dear to Scotchmen.

In a burst of confidence, judging from my tongue
that I would sympathize with him as a brother
Scot, and having already seen that my own appetite
was none of the least robust, " Man/' he said, with
some bitterness, "Yon was an' awfu' chiel, yon
Vagabone ! The beggar eevidently couldna enjoy
the parritch himsel, so he needna been sae like a
dowg i' the manger wi' his remarks aboot me. Ma
fegs/' he continued, " I'm thinkin' Athol Brose
wad hae been mair i' the Vagabone's way than
guid plain parritch. Feth ! he looket mair like a
batter't gill stoup than an honest parritch cogie
ony w'y."

This deliverance of the engineer being a criticism
upon his critic, I promised to record, greatly to the
good old fellow's delight.

We spent a delightful time in Queenstown. Mrs.
Eichardt's hotel is most comfortable. She looks
well after every department herself, the result being
that everything works smoothly. The trout cutlets
and Scotch baps were joys for memory to linger
lovingly upon. One trout was recently stranded
here which weighed 40 Ibs. Surely the boss trout cf
the world.

We walked up to Mr. Murray's fruit-garden, and

Our New Zealand Cousins. 193

got some very rosy apples from the hospitable old
Highlander ; and his couthie auld wifie regaled
us with delicious butter and other home-made
luxuries.

It was, indeed, with genuine regret we turned
our backs on this region of romantic beauty and
wild grandeur.

On the way to Frankton we passed flocks of
starlings, flights of parrakeets, and hordes of
sparrows and green linnets, all destructive pests
and enemies that cause the poor patient farmers
immoderate loss. At Boye's station, at the
Kawarau Falls, an army of rabbitters are employed,
and at the tariff of ^d. per skin many of them make
over I2s. per diem of wages.

The poisoned grain which is laid for the rabbits
has destroyed nearly all the quail and wild duck,
of which there used to be legions about here.
Away up at the head of the lake, on the Rees
and Dart, paradise ducks are yet pretty numerous.

The Frankton Valley is backed up by the glisten-
ing Crown Ranges — one immense expanse of
unsullied snow, rolling along to the verge of the
horizon in billowy waves of dazzling purity and
gleaming splendour. The fields are here protected
by rabbit-proof wire fences ; but times have been
hard with the farmers, and we see hundreds of
acres of uncut crops beaten down by the untimely
snow, and myriads of stocks rotting in the sodden
fields. The land here is very productive ; a hun-
dred bushels of oats to the acre is quite a common
yield.

o

194 Our New Zealand Cousins.

Crossing the brawling and treacherous Shot-
over, in its deep gravelly valley, we top the rise on
the farther side, and immediately our eyes are glad-
dened by the sight of Lake Hayes, lying in its
pacific beauty before us. The surroundings of
stubble and numerous farmsteads give a homely
air to the view ; but the majesty of the snowy ram-
parts which stretch round about like an amphi-
theatre of Parian marble, brightens up the lake
with an effect which is most theatrical in its start-
ling contrasts. The lake is so crowded with trout
that, as an Irishman would say, " they jostle ache
other ; " and in the raupo selvage at the lower
end, swamp hens and ducks are at times pretty
abundant.

As night is falling, and the mists are creeping
down the valleys, wre enter Arrowtown, with its
three churches and quaint old slate-built houses,
and are glad that Host O'Kane has built a good
fire and provided a cosy dinner for us, both of which
we mightily enjoy.

195

CHAPTER XV.

Arrowtown — "A river of golden sands'' — An auriferous
region — A dismal look-out — Old gold-workings — A ter-
rible chasm — Nature's laboratory — Rabbitters at work
—A serious plague — The kea, or liver-eating macaw —
Hawk and pigeon — "Roaring Meg'' — Cromwell town-
ship— The Molyneux Valley — Deserted diggings — Halt
at Roxburgh.

SURELY there are few towns on this earth's surface
more hemmed in by mountains than Arrowtown.
The snowy peaks peer down the chimneys, and in
whatever direction you look out your eye meets
only crags and rocks, gorges and precipices.
The Arrow runs its muddy stream at the base of
the cliffs, and the houses, built of flat slate-stones,
jostle each other on the brink of the stream. The
sands in the river have been turned over for gold
some five times already ; and it is said that a
methodical search would even now unearth much
more treasure.

It was raining heavily as we left O'Kane's little
hostelry, where every regard had been paid to our
comfort ; and never in all my travelling experience
did I face a gloomier prospect. We seemed hope-
lessly caged in by immense lofty walls of rock ;
and the bridle and team tracks to the various
workings, in the glens and gorges, wound along the
O 2

196 Our New Zealand Cousins.

face of the walls at a dizzy height above the stream ;
with bare gaunt pinnacles piercing the mists in
all directions.

The township was founded during the first gold
rush to the district, twenty-six years ago. The rude
masonry walls of the old houses are much more
antique-looking than one commonly sees in any
colonial town.

All this region round about is auriferous. The
shaly, slaty, crumbling mass, of which the hills and
strata are composed, is seamed and permeated
everywhere throughout its bulk by thin veins of
quartz, and most of these are gold-bearing. In
all the flats, and in the beds and on the sides of all
the rivers and creeks, surface digging and sluicing
has been more or less profitably followed ; and at
one time there was an immense mining popula^
tion in these lake districts. Now, however,
" Ichabod " might almost be written over the
map.

At Macetown there are some rich reefs now being
worked, and Macetown is even more inaccessible
than Arrowtown. The teams that go to Macetown
must surely possess some of the attributes of the
goat or house-fly, for the road is perhaps one
of the most audacious in the colonies. It
literally sticks to the face of the cliffs in some
parts.

Rain ! rain. How it patters. Mud ! mud.
How it splashes. The horses, poor things, look
veritable hypochrondriacs, and both driver and
passengers look blue as the surroundings.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 197

Through a temporary rift in the grey mist, the
gaunt hills show their bare, naked, ugly backs,
lacerated with gaping scars. All the glamour of
the kindly drapery of snow has vanished under
the pitiless pelting of the rain. Great landslips
have laid bare the blue shale-beds on the moun-
tain sides. The chasms and abyssmal depths look
the very acme of wild unrelieved desolation.
There is not a bright tint. The only signs of
motion are the foaming cascades tearing down the
gullies, their silvery streaks looking like the white
locks of angry furies trailing over the barren jagged
clefts. The only sign of life is where a ghostly
gull, sated with the flesh of some poisoned rabbits,
wings his heavy flight athwart the black-blue
background of dripping rock.

We seem to be floating above the clouds, and to
be dipping into a sea of mist. Yonder is a glorious
peep ! A rift in the cloud with a spumy circle of
cirrhus edges, reveals a glimpse of a snowy peak,
far, far aloft. It looks, as we might fancy, the face
of a veteran warrior, with a few lyart locks scattered
thinly over his brow, to gaze at us through the
gauzy curtains of an hospital window.

Now we cross the Arrow, swift as its name por-
tends ; roaring and foaming deep down in its
drumly channel. Look at the old workings !
What Titan's toil has been here ! It looks as if
a pack of prediluvian monsters had been madly
tearing at the banks. The valley is riven and torn
and trenched and furrowed in all directions.
Every furlong of the way now for the next thirty

198 Qur New Zealand Cousins.

miles is like this. These are the early diggings.
The auriferous earth was sluiced, and the boulders
and rocks and pebbles piled up in great dykes and
battlements out of reach of the water. It is a
most unique appearance. I have never witnessed
such. The dykes and wavy irregular outlines are
quite unlike the debris and tumuli left after the
workings or alluvial gold-washing in any part of
Australia I have visited. Look back ! How
majestic seem these mighty sentinels, clad in
eternal snow, and looking down so purely and
serenely on the disrupted valley, as if in pity at the
mad hurry-scurry and feverish lust of gold which
they have witnessed.

The peaceful plough has now succeeded the
eager pick and shovel, and several thatched farm-
cots are visible here and there through the
mists.

On our left a magnificent cascade comes shoot-
ing down over an abrupt ledge, and now we reach
the Swift Burn gorge. 'T would take a Dore' to
paint this awful chasm. Far below, the Swift
Burn dashes. Appropriate name ! The abyss is
appalling in its inky hues of desolation. It looks
as if mortification had set in on all the livid faces
of crag, and rotting cliff, and the black-blue tinge
of universal dissolution has set its seal on all the
surroundings. The Arrow here loses its mud-
begrimed waters in the olive-green volume of the
swift Kawarau. The canyon is of a depth that
makes one shudder. The crags and peaks are
blasted as if by the scorching breath of the legions

Our New Zealand Cousins. 199

of Apollyon. The seamed and riven sides of the
crumbling gorge assume the most ghastly hues.
All the potent agencies of nature in her most
wrathful mood, have seemingly been exerted here
to produce a chaos of wild, weird desolation. It is
a picture fit for a prophet's vision, laden with wrath
and woe, and desolation.

It is, indeed, a vision of judgment. The memory
of it haunts me yet. A solemn awe settles on
our spirits. Words utterly fail to present a
tithe of the terrific awesomeness of this amazing
pass.

We cross the Kawarau by a massive iron bridge,
slung on thick wire cables, let into the solid rock
on either side. A column of splintered spray comes
scatteringly down over the giddy height to the
left. We shudder as we gaze back at the terrible
view.

Surely, now we are coming into some more
cheerful environment ? But no ! Nature presents
herself in these wild solitudes in her most for-
bidding guise. The Hindoos would say that Kali,
or Doorga, the goddess of wrath and desolation,
was the presiding divinity here. Everything is
baneful — malign.

See dangling on yonder line a row of gory
mangled scalps — a ribbon of bloody flesh with a
silver selvage ? What is it ? Nay, start not !
These are only a few hundred gory rabbit-skins
drying for market. They are quite in keeping with
the scenery.

A few farmsteads are scattered over this desolate

2oo Our New Zealand Cousins.

strath. On the other side of the river the strath is
ribbed into ridges by the file-like teeth of innumer-
able rills and runlets. These are nature's filesi
eating away the mass of the earthquake's up-
heaval. The swift Kawarau there is but nature's
bosom, sweeping the detritus of the workshop
down into the open plains of the low country,
there to be worked up by the rosy fingers of that
cunning artificer old Helios into ruddy fruit and
golden grain, and all the witching loveliness of
grass and flower and tree.

What a laboratory is this ! We are looking here
at nature in her apprentice stage.

The mist is now gathering its serried battalions
and slowly retiring to the mountain tops. The
valleys come out more distinctly. The sound of
falling waters becomes more clear and musical.

Hurrah ! Yonder is the sun, and we are to have
a fine day after all.

What a glorious vision have we here ! Surely,
reader, could you but behold this with me my
rhapsodies might be pardoned.

This gorge is named Nevis Bluff Pass. How
eerie and uncanny look those rotten crumbling
masses overhead. The road winds in and out
amid heaps of fallen debris, and the rocks hang
ominously over the horses' heads. Below, the im-
petuous river is in a more savage mood than
ever. The water, pent up and impeded by fallen
rocks, roars and swishes and churns itself into
foam, as it dashes in impotent wrath against the
great buttresses and barriers that seek to retard, its

Our New Zealand Cousins. 201

furious rush. There is not a blink of brightness
here to relieve the pallid leaden look. Even the
snowy heights are again hidden by the grey dark
envious mist, which clings to the sodden soil like
grave-cloths.

Here is an episode in keeping with the general
aspect. The rabbitters have been out laying
poisoned grain. Poor greedy bunny ! Have you
no premonition of danger ? No ; the all-devour-
ing greed which makes these multitudinous hordes
such an awful plague, is not to be deterred by
any scruples. The grain is looked on as a god-
send, for of grass and green herbage there is not a
blade — all eaten up long ago. The vermin are at
starvation point. They eat. See now ! Look
at that one leaping in the air in its death agonies.
Look at the contortions and gyrations of that
other. Hear the agonizing screams of a third ; the
deadly drug is eating at the vitals of the hapless
rodents. The earth is dotted with white upturned
pelts of dozens of them. They lie thick behind
every tuft of spear-grass, in scores under every
cliff, in hundreds over the plains. The peltry
hunters will have a rich harvest this evening. A£
the rabbitters move forward, picking up the dead
beasts and rapidly skinning them, hundreds of sea-
gulls follow the gang, flitting about like eerie
ghosts, and gorging themselves on the poisoned
carcases. The poison does not seem to affect these
birds ; at least no dead gulls are ever noticed,
though I saw them myself feeding on the poisoned
flesh.

202 Our New Zealand Cousins.

This rabbit infliction is of awful dimensions
here. We saw them by the thousand, bobbing
about among the dry withered thistle-stalks, and
many hundreds of tons of skins are exported from
Otago and Southland every year. On some runs
as many as fifty men are employed laying poison
and collecting skins. The skins almost pay for the
outlay, but of course the check to the wool industry
cannot be formulated in figures. The skins are
most valuable naturally when the winter fur is on
them. There is so much difficult country here-
abouts where the vermin can breed in safety, that
they will never now be wholly eradicated, but
already they are being sensibly held in check, and
meantime the poor people comfort themselves
with the thought, that after all, employment is
given to many hundreds of hands, and money is of
necessity spent in the country which might other-
wise only swell the hoards of absentee squatters,
and rich corporations. The poison used is phos-
phorized grain. For flat country, where the
warrens are easily accessible, and the soil not too
porous, probably no better means of checking the
plague has been found than that promulgated by
an old fellow-student of my own, whom I had
the pleasure of meeting again in Dunedin after a
long separation of more than twenty years.

I refer to Professor James G. Black, Professor
of Chemistry in the Otago University. Some nine
years ago the rabbit plague was working havoc
with the prospects of pastoralists in Southland ;
and one of the leading squatters, Mr. James

Our New Zealand Cousins. 203

Holmes, of Castle Rock station, Southland, wrote
to Professor Black, almost in despair, to see if he
could suggest any remedy. After some considera-
tion the professor recommended the trial of the
bisulphide of carbon and himself superintended the
experiments. The rabbits were first of all hunted
into the warrens by dogs. A rag or stem of the
common New Zealand flax (phormium), dipped in
~the bisulphide, or a spoonful of the liquid itself,
was then put into each hole in the warren and a
sod was then stamped into each opening. The
poisonous fumes are immediately generated and
penetrate to the remotest recesses of the warren,
and no live rabbit escapes the deadly dose.

For low lands this is the best remedy that was
then known, and none better has been discovered
since, and to Professor Black belongs the honour
of having first suggested and tried it. It gives me
genuine pleasure to be able to record this of
an old fellow-student ; for his modesty is only
equalled by his high attainments.

During this digression the coach has been
jolting on, and the weather has been clearing.

Right ahead, seemingly barring the valley,
Mount Difficulty towers aloft. It is well named.
Its black bare ribs are like the bones of some
giant megatherium, which have been scorched
and blackened by primeval fires. We cross the
Victoria Bridge, and in the valley below, the
Nevis here joins its waters to those of the
Kawarau. The Nevis is muddy and thick as pea-
soup from recent freshets.

2O4 Our New Zealand Cousins.

In these wild glens the liver-loving kea is very
plentiful. This epicure is rather an interesting
example of an uncommon fact in natural history.
Of course it is pretty generally known that the
kea has attained an unenviable notoriety on
account of the damage he does to the sheep. He
fastens on to some unlucky beast, and with his
powerful hooked beak regularly cuts a hole into
the poor victim till he reaches the dainty he is in
search of — the liver. This luscious morsel having
been appropriated, the bleeding, lacerated victim
is left to die in agony, while the rapacious kea
transfers his attentions to another ill-fated member
of the flock. And yet the kea was formerly a
fruit-eating bird. He is allied to the macaw
family, and how the taste for a carnivorous diet
became developed does not seem yet to be known.
It is a curious instance of change of natural
instinct.

I should say the student of natural history
would find a fine field for observation here.
Another episode befell us here, and thus : The
driver and I were chatting gaily, when an ex-
clamation from him roused my attention to the
swift movements of a couple of birds. A sparrow-
hawk in pursuit of a fine blue rock pigeon. They
swept past us on fleet, strong wing. The hawk
swooped to strike ; but the pigeon eluded him.
Again they circled, swept upward, downward,
flashed past us like a streak of light, and again
the hawk made his deadly dart. Palpitating,
trembling, the harried pigeon just managed to

Our New Zealand Cousins. 205

swoop under the friendly shelter of a clump of
bushes beside a mountain rill that came merrily
rippling down the hillside. The baffled hawk,
with a most malignant glitter in his eye, took up
his station on a jutting rock, and had evidently
made up his mind to wait for the poor pigeon.

"No, old man, I'll be hanged if you'll have
him," said Jack, the driver, apostrophizing the
hawk.

" Here, sir, hold the ribbons." This to me,
throwing me the reins. Jack got down from his
perch, and after a little search in the bush was re-
warded by the capture of the poor dazed pigeon,
who was consigned to safe custody in the boot.
The hawk dodged a stone, which Jack threw at
him, and very sulkily winged his way off in quest
of other prey.

At this part of the road the rocks show a curious
honeycombed appearance, and the river rolls along
in a series of rapids, in a terrific chasm far below.
This spot is known locally as " the natural bridge."
A mass of fallen rock obstructs the stream, which
at low water can be easily forded here over the
o'er-arching rocks. High up in mid air, a broken
and partly dismantled iron flume spans the gorge.
It was designed to carry water across to some
diggings on the other side of the valley ; but the
span was too great, and it was never a success.

Now the road crosses " Roaring Meg." The
name describes the torrent. It comes roaring,
tearing, crashing, dashing down the steep, and
plunges like a catapult into the river bed. The

206 Our New Zealand Cousins.

force and velocity must be stupendous, and the
impact of so many tons of water at such a speed
sends the volume of the Kawarau high in air,
tossed in blinding spray, and the mighty buttresses
of rock seem to tremble again as the water surges
to and fro in their cavernous recesses. The swift
Kawarau staggers, and its waves, swift as they are,
are for the moment dammed back, and rise as a
charger preparing for a bound into the thick of the
fray. The point of junction is a hissing hell of
foam — a very Phlegethon of fury. It needs the
pen of a master to fitly describe such a " meeting
of the waters " as this.

Below this point, and across the foam-filled chasm,
we see the miners' huts on the Gentle Annie claim.
Provisions and stores are sent across in a chair
slung to a wire rope stretched across the river.
By the same dizzy contrivance the wives and chil-
dren of the district cross and re-cross. The school
children use this contrivance daily. Surely here,
if anywhere, we should have a race of women not
liable to that mysterious malady known as " the
nerves."

Still farther down the valley, great beetling
rocks rise on either hand, and amid their honey-
combed recesses colonies of blue and white pigeons
have taken up their quarters. Here we release our
rescued captive, and watch his gladsome exultant
flight, as he rejoiced in his recovered freedom.

There is a magnificent cataract in the river
here for some hundred yards. Several Chinamen
are fossicking among the chinks and crannies of

Our New Zealand Cousins. 207

the colossal dykes which the early toilers for gold
have formerly heaped up. Millions upon millions
of tons of earth must have been sluiced from these
hillsides.

We pass now a gang of men busily restoring the
traffic which has been interrupted by a terrific land-
slip caused by the recent heavy rains. The rocks
here are rotten and treacherous. The formation
is chiefly mica schist, both hard and soft, with beds
and layers of slate and phyllite.

A short distance beyond, we reach the deserted
Kawarau Gorge township. There was formerly a
dense and busy population here ; but there are
only some three houses and a school now stand-
ing.

The valley now widens out, and away across the
river, Jack points out the cliffs of Bannockburn,
where active sluicing is even now being carried on,
and where some very heavy finds of gold have
made the place famous. Like mostly all the fields
around this district, however, Bannockburn is now
getting worked out, and will soon be deserted.

Now we rattle on to a broad, flat, sandy plain,
a church steeple showing its tip at the far verge ;
above which towers a snowy range, and nestling
in the shadow thereof is the neat little town of
Cromwell.

Cromwell, in common with mostly every town
of any importance in New Zealand, can boast of
one thing which Sydney with all her magnificence
yet lacks.

" And what is that ? " you may ask.

208 Our New Zealand Cousins.

Well, it is simply this : a perfect and plentiful
water supply. Its source is in the hills over the
river, and the water crosses in great pipes under
the bridge. There are three banks represented
in the town, and a racecourse and hospital testify
both to the philanthropic and sporting tendencies
of the people.

From a lignite pit a few miles out on the plain,
good fuel can be procured at 2Os. per ton. This
rather unusual conjunction of coal and gold is
common enough on the Otago goldfields.

At Cromwell the individuality of the Kawarau
becomes merged in that of the Molyneux, and the
valley downward is now named the Molyneux
Valley ; emblematic this of the gradual absorption
of the native in the foreign element. In a
hollow by the river, we find the Chinese camp.
Of course a gardener is to be found in close
proximity, and the rocking of several mining
cradles, shows that these industrious and perse-
vering Asiatics are yet finding payable gold,
though the more impatient Anglo-Saxon has long
since considered the workings " played out."

The contrast between the green current of the
Molyneux and the grey muddy volume of the
Kawarau is most striking. All around the junction
of the two streams the country consists of bare
grey rugged cliffs and tumbled rocks of a friable
material, which crumbles and flakes under the in-
fluence of the weather ; and the river carries
enormous masses of material with it in its onward
course.

Our New Zealand Cousins, 209

In fact, New Zealand is a good instance of
growth — not merely mental, or political, or com-
mercial, but physical material growth. Geologists
tell us that every year the land encroaches on the
sea ; and when we see the rivers at work we can
see the process for ourselves.

The valley of the Molyneux is much wider and
more open ; but at this wintry season (May) it is
not less bare and desolate-looking than the upper
straths and gorges.

Clyde is another languishing little town through
which we pass. The new bridge on stone piers
is a noticeable feature. The old one, with four
others on the river, were swept away entirely by
the great flood of 1878.

At Alexandria, the next township, we find
sluicing on a small scale still being practised. A
substantial dredge is at work in the river bed
itself, and the mud-laden Manuherikia rolls down
its tribute to swell the swift Molyneux.

The country here presents a picture of chaotic
desolation. The rocks are crumbling and rotting.
Everything looks ruinous. Sand and withered
thistle-stalks seem the prevailing products of the
place, and there does not seem even enough
herbage to support a rabbit. In fact, we see
numbers of dead ones near the road, and the great
convoys of gulls are the only live animals we
see.

It is a treat from this desolate region to come
upon a well-cultivated, well-populated settlement
known as Spear Grass Flat. It is also called Bald

p

2io Our New Zealand Comins.

Hill Flat, but as Bald Hill is covered with great
brown bunches of spear-grass, all but a spot on
the crown, the origin of the names is not far to
seek. On the right the Old Man Range lies,
gleaming white with drifted snow. Round one
farmstead we count over thirty great stacks. The
wheat grown here took the second prize at the
Sydney Exhibition.

Here another curious freak of bird nature came
under our observation. A massive carcase had
been slung up by the butcher of the settlement,
and perched on it were dozens of twittering
sparrows and torn-tits tearing away at the flesh
and regaling themselves right royally. I had
often heard the expression, " A torn-tit on a round
of beef," as an illustration of an unequal match
in size, but here was the real thing itself.

At Gorge Creek we dip into the valley down a
slippery, muddy decline, very trying to the poor
horses, and change teams at the top of the next
rise. The last sixteen miles into Roxburgh is
through rocky country and is done in the dark.
At Coal Creek Flat there are some famous
orchards. The fruit fetches high prices in Dune-
din. Grapes are grown under glass, and it is
amazing to see so little attention paid to such an
industry, since more than three-fourths of the
fruit consumed in the colony comes from abroad.

Flitting lights, twinkling and moving down
below near the stream, and others shining with a
steady glow, now apprise us that Roxburgh is in
sight. The lights by the river are those of the

Our New Zealand Cousins. 2 1 1

night shift of miners, busy sluicing their wash-
dirt while the river is low. Roxburgh is our
resting-place for the night, and cold and weary
we alight, and are glad of the welcome dinner
and warm fire which are awaiting us.

p 2

212 Our New Zealand Cousins.

CHAPTER XVI.

Dunkeld — Our Jehu — On the box seat — A Chinese Boniface
— Gabriel's Gully — Good farming — Dunedin — Harbour
works — A category of " the biggest things on record "
— Charms of Dunedin— A holiday drive — The Grand
Hotel — The churches — Preachers — Dunedin mud —
Beer — Keen business competition — The West Coast con-
nection— " Wild Cat " claims — The Scotch element —
Litigiousness — Energy of the people.

ROXBURGH, like nearly all the other goldfields
towns in New Zealand, is now but a shadow of its
former self. There is not much of interest to note
about it.

To Dunkeld, we ride through a wide pastoral
valley studded with numerous farms, and pass the
deserted sites of old gold-crushings by the river.
One or two dredges are still at work in the stream ;
but the gold got now is insignificant in comparison
with the returns of the pristine rushes, when the
valley was a busy humming human hive. Old
James M'Intosh, our Jehu, one of the oldest
drivers in New Zealand, is full of reminiscences of
these stirring times. He points out to us the fine
freehold estate of Mr. Joseph Clarke, brother of
Sir William Clarke, of Victoria. Many farms
about here are let at a high rental. I was told they

Our New Zealand Cousins. 2 1 3

did not pay. We pass frequent parties of rabbit-
ters, and almost every man we meet carries a gun,
and is followed by several dogs. The rabbit
question is a burning one hereabouts. We are
getting out of the country of rocks now, and the
hills become more rounded, and are clad with
a denser growth. The scenery is more distinctly
pastoral and rural. Flax swamps increase, and
we leave the snows and cataracts behind us.

Dunkeld is a sleepy-looking little hamlet. Its
great four-square hotel is big enough for a popula-
of ten times the number the town can muster.
The curtainless windows look cheerless.

The coach is packed inside, and I share the box
seat with a dandy, diminutive publican, who has
made a snug little pile as a butcher, and has taken
to the tap in his old age as a sort of genteel occu-
pation for his declining years. The little man is
possessed of a fine vein of humour, of the broad
American kind, and some of his passing remarks
on men and things are shrewd and witty withal.
The other occupant of the box seat is a desperately
drunken Irishman, who alternately wants to fight
and embrace the ex-butcher. At the slightest
remark he flares up in the most ferocious manner,
evidently looking on me as a base and bloody
Saxon, whose head he would like to punch. His
muttered treason occasionally bursts out into a
general commination, which includes everything
English, from Gladstone down to the meanest
powder-monkey of her Majesty's fleet. It is in
vain we reason, expostulate, threaten, cajole. His

2 1 4 Our New Zealand Cousins.

rum-laden brain is proof against all our blandish-
ments, until, mindful that "music hath charms,"
I try the effect of a plaintive Irish song on " the
savage breast." And lo ! at the old familiar strain
the flood-gates are unloosed, and the poor, blunder-
ing, impulsive, drink-besotted, warm-hearted bos-
thoon begins to blubber like a child.

Poor Pat ! Surely his love of country covers a
multitude of sins. We get on better after this ;
but I have to sing till I am hoarse to keep our
Hibernian friend in the right key, and possibly
to preserve my pate from a punching.

We cross the river at Dunkeld on a pontoon
raft, propelled by the power of the current
through the agency of a traveller on a wire
cable, such as we had seen on the Manawatu
River. I was informed by M'Intosh that the
idea had been borrowed from India, and introduced
into New Zealand by an engineer who had served
in the East.

At Lawrence, the ancient Tuapeka (why will
they change these beautiful old native names for
the vulgar patronymics of Cockaigne ?), we bid
good-bye once more to the stage coach, and revert
to the iron horse. Here for the first time in all
my colonial experience, I noticed a Chinese name
over a hotel. Sam Chew Lain is the Boniface of
"The Chinese Empire Hotel," nor is this the only
sign of the march of civilization among the Mon-
golians in New Zealand, as I found on reading
the Bankruptcy list in Dunedin the names of two
Chinese market-gardeners, whose liabilities were set

Our New Zealand Cousins. 2 1 5

down in round figures at some 6oo/., and their
assets a modest ten-pound note.

" Tarantara ! ! "

As the urbane celestial blandly observes.

" Bankeelupchee, welly goodee. Got him cash,
got him goods. All same Englisman. Go tloo
courtee ! ! " —

Close by is the famous Gabriel's Gully, which
was about the first gold field in Otago. What a
scene was this in those rude lawless times. Every
one conversant with the literature of the early
gold days, can imagine the roar and turmoil, the
ever-shifting phantasmagoria on those slopes ; and
along these flats, crowded with tents, blazing with
camp fires, and the air resounding with the din
of tongue and shovel and cradle, and not unfre-
quently the sharp report of firearms. Now the
little settlement is peaceful enough. There is
still one rich working up the creek, called the Blue
Spur claim, which gives employment to about
one hundred men. The houses are scattered over
knolls, and up secluded gullies, and many pretty
villas surrounded with ornamental gardens crown
the ridges. There is a pretty quiet cemetery sur-
rounded by pines on the hill behind the town
where the coffin of many a wild and turbulent
spirit moulders. At present the trees are for the
most part leafless, and the aspect of the country is
dun brown, and bare ; but in summer this must be
really a pretty district.

We pass Waitahuna, a great flat, where com-
panies of bestial-looking Chinamen are fossicking

2 1 6 Our New Zealand Cousins.

among the old workings. They have to go deep
now for wash dirt, but get coarse gold, very red
and water-worn, among the pebbles and drift.
They are a more hang-dog set of oblique-looking
pagans than one generally sees in New South
Wales. Many of them look as if they had been
in the wars.

Cultivation extends to the very tops of the
ridges here. Great armies of gulls follow the
shining ploughshare as it turns up the teeming
tilth. And I am glad to observe pleasing evi-
dences round every homestead that the tree-
planting fever has been pretty generally infectious.

It does one's heart good, after the slovenly
farming and tree-stumps of some parts of Australia,
to see the clean fields here. The ploughmen of
this part of Otago are famous, and the mathe-
matical exactitude of the long, clean furrows
would rejoice the heart of a true farmer anywhere.
The train is full of volunteers going up to Dunedin
for the review and sham-fight on the Queen's
Birthday, and the run from Milton Junction is
past Lake Waihoa, Mossgiel, &c., a part of the
country which I have already described.

******

Having now got back to the Otago capital, we
find time to look about us, and very soon the con-
viction is forced upon us that, from an architec-
tural point of view, Dunedin is the finest city of
the whole colony. The inequalities of her surface
lines undoubtedly aid in producing a fine effect ;
but the genius of her architects, the taste and

Our New Zealand Cousins. 217

public spirit of her citizens, and the liberality of
her merchants and magnates have all combined to
adorn their hilly site, and the result is a noble city
worthy of metropolitan rank in any country.
Considering the age of the colony, I think the
progress of this city nothing short of marvellous.
Hitherto ocean steamers and big ships have had
to discharge cargoes at Port Chalmers, a small
town, prettily climbing over its rocky -peninsula at
the foot of the long firth or estuary, which extends
upwards to Dunedin proper, some eight miles.

The Dunedinites, however, have never been
satisfied with this arrangement. Year by year
dredging, embanking, and other reclaiming opera-
tions have been going on. Steadily the channel
has been deepening, and the reclaimed flats on
either side broadening ; and bigger and bigger
craft have been, as time passes, able to come
right up the bay to the city itself. The harbour
board has expended vast sums of money on
these works, and in anticipation of the time
when the leviathans of the merchant service
shall haul alongside, great wharves have been
erected, mighty storehouses line the wharves, and
the reticulations of the railway system interpene-
trate both wharves and storehouses. Everything
is ready for the big steamers, and now a monster
dredge, said to be the largest on this round sphere
of ours, is busily engaged deepening the channel
still further; and no doubt the time is not far
distant when the honourable ambition of Dunedin
will be realized, and she will become a port of

2 1 8 Our New Zealand Cousins.

direct call for the mightiest ocean-going vessels of
the age.

En parenthese, let us just for a moment recapitu-
late and array together these "biggest in the
world " items, of which New Zealand is so proud.
It is, indeed, a motley catalogue. First, the biggest
dredge ; then, the biggest water-wheel ; next, the
biggest trout ; the biggest wooden building ; the
highest wooden bridge ; the biggest calcareous
terraces ; the biggest bird (if the moa still lives) ;
the biggest apples — those of the Waikato district ;
the biggesb and most luxurious natural warm
baths ; the biggest terraced formation ; the biggest
glacier (that of Mount Cook — though that is
doubtful) ; the biggest tattooing on the biggest
reclaimed cannibal, with probably the biggest
mouth ; the biggest flax-bushes ; the steepest
railway incline ; the biggest beds of shingle ; the
biggest concrete breakwater ; the biggest cabbages
— if we accept the cabbage-tree as generic ; the
biggest proportion of rabbits to the acre ; the
biggest artesian water supply (that of Christ-
church) ; the biggest beds of watercress ; the
biggest colonial debt ; and as its admirers say,
the biggest hearted people, to which my own
experience says amen ; and the biggest future of
any of Britain's colonies, to which with a Scotch-
man's proverbial caution, I say, " Weel, we'll see ! "
" Nous verrons"

One of the charms of Dunedin is its irregularity
of outline. The streets are nowhere straight. To
get even an approximate idea of the city as a

Our New Zealand Cousins. 219

whole, you must mount the fine tower of the yet
incomplete town hall, or ascend the steep inclines
which overlook the city, by one of the wire tram-
ways, which are a feature of the locomotive life of
Dunedin, or, if you are favoured with a fine day,
take a drive along the beautiful winding road,
which threads the heights of the peninsula, between
the firth and the open sea, and you will be rewarded
with views of the great city, which give you an
idea of its extent and importance, such as perhaps
you could acquire in no other way.

This drive formed a memorable event in our
visit. I took with me a small select party of
ladies and children, and we enjoyed the varied
scenery to our hearts' content. On the one side
the cultivated slopes leading down to the bay, on
the other the frowning headlands, seagirt cliffs,
and here and there a placid inlet, although in
some places old ocean battled with the coast in
its usual boisterous and hollow-sounding fashion.
Some of the surf bits were exquisite in their beauty.
Descending the hill above Portobello, however, the
hired horse, which had hitherto been a paragon of
every equine virtue, began to lash out wildly with
his hind legs, and smashed the splinter bar. This
finished my pleasure for the day. The horse re-
quired all my attention now, as he had become
nervous, and manifested an insane desire to shy
at every conceivable object we encountered. I
had eight miles to drive home, along the winding
shores of the bay, by the low road. There was
no parapet, and the water lapped on the " bund "

220 Our New Zealand Cousins.

or embankment all the way. My ladies were
nervous ; my horse was likewise. My road was
barely wide enough for two vehicles to pass, and
the frail rope with which I had spliced my splin-
tered splinter bar threatened to give at every tug.
Under such circumstances I must be excused if I
failed to see the vaunted beauty of Dunedin from
the harbour. My wife says it was exquisite, beau-
tiful, lovely, &c. As a dutiful husband, I endorse
the dictum of my wife.

Dunedin from the harbour is beautiful.

One noteworthy feature of Dunedin, one grand
feature, I may say, is its Grand Hotel. This is
unique in the Southern hemisphere, and would
not disgrace New York. Under Mr. Watson's
able management the visitor finds himself relieved
from every care. The dining-room and public
drawing-rooms are palatial apartments. The
private sitting-rooms are models of elegance and
comfort. The bedrooms are without a fault, and
the bath-rooms are luxurious to a degree. The
table would satisfy the most fastidious ; and if you
want a more obliging hall-porter than " long
Charley," with his cadaverous eyes, well, you must
be hard to please — that's all.

While I am in the praising mood, I must not
omit to mention Burton Brothers for photographs
of New Zealand scenery. If Bourne and Shep-
herd be a household word in India for collections
of photography, surely Burton's is equally famous
in New Zealand, and deservedly so. A visit
to their atelier embraces all New Zealand. You

Our New Zealand Cousins. 221

can study every phase of her marvellous coast,
every aspect of her wonderful hills, rivers, and
sounds.

If you want your portrait taken, you cannot
find a better artist in that line than Morris. One
glance at his handiwork will confirm what I
say.

The churches are really fine. The Scotch Pres-
byterian Church, of Otago, is well endowed, and,
much to its honour, it is a liberal patron of educa-
tion, and supports two professorships in the Uni-
versity. But the First Church and Knox Church
would be an ornament to any city ; and to see the
dense throngs of big-headed, intelligent men, and
fresh complexioned, elegantly dressed women, that
crowd the churches is a treat. In Dunedin, par
excellence, they " do not forget the assembling of
themselves together as the manner of some is."
Except in Mr. Charles Strong's church, or when
Bishop Moorhouse preaches in Melbourne, I have
not, in all the colonies, seen such packed congrega-
tions as in Dunedin.

To hear dear old Dr. Stuart preach was in itself
worth a pilgrimage. The homely Scottish tongue,
the genial mobile face, with the earnest eyes and
appealing, winning smile, the quaint illustrations,
and powerful searching home thrusts, were those
of a born preacher. Would we had more such.
I heard Dr. Roseby too. The affectionateness of
the man would open the most closely guarded soul,
and let the sweet influences of the Gospel work
their will.

222 Our New Zealand Cousins.

After what I heard and saw in Dunedin, my
heart was uplifted. Let no one tell me that the
power of the pulpit is on the wane. The Word is
" quick and powerful " still as ever it was, where
properly presented. But oh, woe is me for the
many that " sit at ease in Zion." Methinks there
are too many " dumb dogs " and " hireling shep-
herds " in some of the churches nowadays.

Twenty years ago, I saw Dunedin, when it was
a rambling collection of miserable wooden shanties.
The cutting through Bell's Hill was not then
finished. If I mistake not, it was of Dunedin
mud in those days that the following satire was
concocted : —

"A new chum, walking along the quaking
morass that was then the street (so the story
goes), espied a nice new hat on the surface of the
treacherous mire. Presumably he was a web-footed
stranger, for he sallied out to pick up the hat. To
his surprise it was clutched firmly on both sides
by two bunches of digits, and he perceived it was
being held on the head of some subterranean
wearer. ' Hallo ! ' shouted the N. C., making a
speaking-trumpet of his hands, " You are surely in
a bad way down there ? ' ' Oh, no ! I'm all right,'
came the muffled reply. ' I'm on the top of an
omnibus.' "

The streets are very different now. Well paved,
well scavengered, and with horse-trams running in
all directions, they redound to the credit of the
city management. They have not been idiotic
enough to try and make the trains do the work of

Our New Zealand Cousins. 223

a city railway, and consequently the public are
well served.

The Water of Leith, with Nichol's Falls, are
well worthy of a visit. Farther up, through the
saddle above the falls, a recent discovery has been
made, which bids fair to introduce a new industry.
This is a deposit of shale, specimens of which have
been sent home, and have been pronounced by
experts there to be of more than usual excel-
lence. It is in contemplation to erect machinery
and start works at an early date, and, if all I
hear be correct, there is no doubt that a highly
remunerative industry will be inaugurated.

From shale and sermons to beer. Dunedin
beer fairly rivals the renowned brews of Auld
Reekie. The populace seem also to have very fair
powers of imbibition. There are no less than
seven breweries in and around the city. This is in
keeping with almost every other branch of industry.
It is much overdone. Competition has cut prices
down to the point at which legitimate profits have
almost entirely vanished.

For keen business competition Dunedin fairly
"cows the gowan," as a Scotchman would say. In
this respect it puts Aberdeen to the blush, and
outrivals the Burra Bazaar of Calcutta. The
fact is admitted by the merchants themselves
that there is no cohesion among them. They will
not combine. They all do a " cutting game,"
and while the result cannot but be beneficial to
the purchasing public, I cannot see how the
sellers can reap much of a rich reward. Several

224 Our New Zealand Cousins.

instances came under my observation, in which
a little combination as regards certain commo-
dities with which the market was insufficiently
stocked, might have raised prices very materially
and given the merchant a legitimate profit on his
scanty stocks. But no ! Each was afraid of the
other forestalling him, or springing a surprise on
him ; and, indeed, in some cases, a smart man
might have bought goods in Dunedin, and shipping
them to Melbourne or Sydney have realized a
respectable profit on his transaction. Every
merchant I spoke to on this subject deplored the
existence of such a spirit, and yet such I suppose
are the exigencies of trade, and the keenness of the
competition, that no one could afford to take his
stand, and hold for a rise. In other words, it
seems to me that there is barely sufficient trade in
Dunedin to keep all the traders going. The cry
of dull trade was no bugbear in Dunedin.

The West Coast connection has always been an
important and valuable one for Dunedin. The
mining communities on the West Coast prefer to
get their supplies from Otago ; but they dearly
like also to " spoil the Egyptians," in the shape
of Dunedin men, whenever they get a chance.
The Dunedinites, it would seem, have rather
arrogated to themselves the reputation of being
preternaturally knowing, and maintain rather a
supercilious attitude as regards the intellectual,
commercial, or other acumen of outsiders. So it
becomes a study with the West Coast speculator
"\iv\vtodo Dunedin," i.e. it is considered no in-

Our New Zealand Cousins. 225

fraction of any moral obligation, but rather a
laudable achievement, to beguile the Dunedinite
out of his money under any pretence what-
ever. And so the merry old game of mining
swindle has been played with variations more
or less intricate, for the last two decades at
least. Enormous sums of Dunedin capital have
been invested in perfectly worthless enterprises on
the West Coast ; and a swindling speculation
which consists in puffing up a "duffer claim," or
rigging up a reputation for a worn-out mine, is
a favourite occupation with many keen-witted
characters in New Zealand. The claim, or mine,
so manipulated, is called " A Wild Cat." There
are many legitimate mining enterprises, and a
wide field for bona-fide investment, on the gold-
fields of New Zealand, but let the prudent man
beware of " Wild Cats."

Just as a Highlander of the days of our grand-
fathers looked on smuggling as a virtue, and cheating
and hoodwinking the gauger as an honourable
achievement; so the Reefton promoter or projector
looks on a Dunedinite as his fair, natural, and
legitimate prey.

I make bold to say, however, as the result of my
own rather limited observation, that in the long
run the Wild Cats get rather the worst of the
rubber with the Dunedin men. This mutual game
of " Beggar my Neighbour " does not, as may be
imagined, tend to elevate the moral tone of the
people. "Trade fictions," to use a mild phrase,
are considered justifiable ; and of a great many

Q

226 OILT New Zealand Cousins.

of the statements which the ordinary Dunedinite
may make to you on ; Change, on the wharf,
or on the market-place, you might be par-
doned if you again used the caution of the
Caledonian, and whispered quietly to yourself,
" Ou aye ! if a' stories be true, that ane's no' a
lee."

Of course I was prepared to find the atmo-
sphere intensely Scotch. It was delightful to
hear the dear auld Scottish tongue, to note the
Scottish names of streets, and mark the prevailing
Scottish nomenclature on the sign-boards. But
I was scarcely prepared to find the very wine-
cards in the hotels transmogrified from French,
to Scotch ; and yet on perusing the wine-carte at
the Grand Hotel we found the French " St. Julien
Me'doc" figuring as St. Julien M'Doe. This was
transposition with a vengeance surely.

I do not know whether Dunedin human nature
be abnormally litigious or not, but this I will aver
— that if all the solicitors and legal practitioners
of sorts who exercise their calling in the city,
make a good living out of their clients, it would
argue that litigation is pretty lively. As with
commerce, so I should imagine with law — it is
surely overdone. The city swarms with solicitors.
One well-known legal firm of high standing, and
in the enjoyment of a splendid practice, have a
suite of offices that are probably unequalled for
sumptuousness in any town anywhere. The offices
are worthy of a visit. The granite pillars at the
doors were specially imported. The rooms and

Our New Zealand Cousins. 227

lobbies are replete with every modern device for
luxury and adornment. Gildings glisten from
floor to ceiling. In the centre is a dome of stained
glass, more in keeping with a summer palace on
the Bosphorus or Guadalquiver than within the
precincts of a lawyer's sanctum. If the magnificence
of the offices be at all a fair index to the scale of
fees, no wonder Otago litigants are impoverished
and complaints of dull times are rife.

A very beautiful cemetery crowns one of the
overlooking eminences, on the north of the town ;
and, from its shady walks and terraces, you can
look down on the busy human hive. The long,
irregular town spreads away southward at your
feet. There is the dark-blue mass of the Uni-
versity, laved by the waters of the Leith Burn,
and admirably set off by the quaint red-brick
buildings, of Queen Anne style of architecture,
which form the residences of the staff of professors.
Farther along, the imposing bulk of the hospital
looms up from the valley, and then beyond, the
graceful spire of the Knox Church, the aspiring
altitude of the Town Hall, and crowning the
heights, terrace on terrace of really-beautiful houses
with artistically laid-out grounds, and the Boys'
and Girls' High Schools, the convent, the cathedral,
and other great buildings breaking the continuity
and evidencing the importance of the city. In
fact nothing better perhaps is better calculated to
give the visitor an idea of the push, energy, " go "
of Dunedin, than to see how the citizens have made
the most of their difficulties of site. Great hills
Q 2

228 Our New Zealand Cousins.

have been scarped away to make room for villas.
Roads have been cut right into the solid rock,
chasms have been bridged and gullies filled, terraces
and gardens formed somewhat after the similitude
of the hanging gardens of Babylon, so far as eleva-
tion is concerned ; and yet every now and then
you come on a bit of the old original bush, right in
the heart of an environment of houses and gardens.
So that, as you look around, upward and downward,
and reflect that all this lavish display of architectu-
ral and horticultural adornment has been the work
of only some twenty years, and that it has been
achieved in face of natural difficulties which force
themselves on the attention of the most cursory
and unthinking observer, you begin to realize
that the Dunedinites must have come of a good
stock, and that they do well to be proud of their
natural progress.

I do most sincerely hope that the present cloud
of commercial depression may speedily lift, and
that the wheels of trade may run merrily as of
yore.

229

CHAPTER XVII.

The Bluff — Bleak and inhospitable view — Miserable railway
arrangements — First impressions — Cheerless ride to
Invercargill — Forestry neglected — Shameful waste —
The timber industry — Necessity for reform — Pioneering
— The usual Australian mode — The native method — A
contrast — Invercargill — A large farm — Conservatism of
the farming classes — Remenyi's anecdotes.

WE have thus tracked the much-talked-of depres-
sion down to earth. We have followed the cry of
"dull times" all through the islands ; and here at
last, in Dunedin, we have found some faint echoes
with the ring of truth in them. Before entering
into any inquiry or speculation as to causes and
possible remedies, let me finish my descriptive
remarks by detailing briefly what we saw at
Invercargill and the Bluff, and then, with the
reader's permission, we may devote a chapter or
two, profitably, to a consideration of one or two
deductions from what we have observed, and
take a glance in closing at some of the moral,
social, and intellectual phases of life in this land
which is so rich in natural beauties and scenic
marvels.

We drew up alongside the dreary wharf at
the Bluff on May 29. It may be necessary to

230 Our New Zealand Cousins.

mention for the edification of my readers that this
is the most southerly point of call for ocean-going
rteamers to New Zealand.

The Bluff is a good instance of what is at first
so puzzling to a new arrival from the old country,
namely, the antipodean order of things. He has
been so accustomed all his life to associate cold
weather, snowy hills, bleak moorlands, and wintry
skies with the " inhospitable north ;" and warmth,
colour, foliage,and all the delights of balmysummer
with the " sunny south/' that he gets " consider-
ably mixed," as a Yankee would say, to find that
in New Zealand the farther south he goes he gets
the less sun ; and if he happens to experience the
same weather as we did at the Bluff, he will
begin to think that he has taken farewell of the
sun altogether.

Now it does seem like a confession of weakness
and want of straw, so to speak, to begin a chapter
by a disquisition on the weather, and yet the
elements cannot be left out in any description of
the Bluff.

If there is any other place at the Antipodes
where more piercing blasts are to be experienced,
accompanied by gusts of sleet and rain ; if there
is anywhere else in the wide world, a more un-
sheltered, forsaken, " waste-howling wilderness "
than the Bluff, well, I don't want to see it ; that's
all. The Bluff is quite enough for me ! I saw
it in somewhat similar circumstances twenty
years ago, and it does not seem to have altered
much since then. There are possibly a few more

Our New Zealand Cousins. 231

houses, and bigger shops. The wharves are some-
what more extensive, and the railway buildings
have been added. There was a railway twenty
years ago ; that I distinctly remember, because
an enthusiastic Bluffite got a shovel, and dug a
sort of pit in the drifted sand, and showed me
the rails, but there was no train then. The line
was blocked by the sanddrifts, and possibly also
because the provincial treasury-chest was at
ebb-tide.

There is a train now. It is the coldest, most
comfortless train I ever rode in. The railway
officials seem like the old rails, to have been dug
out of a sanddrift too. One individual, who
seemed to be invested with authority, was about
the most sluggish in his movements of any official
I remember to have ever met. He professed the
most sublime ignorance of the time-table, or
possibly was too lazy to give the asked-for infor-
mation. Surely any fool, he evidently thought,
coming to the Bluff, should know at what hours
the trains ran. At any rate he acted as if such
were his mental excogitations. The miserable
pigeon-hole, or trapdoor, through which the bits of
pasteboard are purveyed, was kept inexorably
shut till exactly one minute after the train was
timed to start This, in spite of frequent
knockings by a troop of fellow-passengers, who
were already depressed enough by what they
had seen of the Bluff. Of course, then, the guard
began to fuss, the engine-driver to cuss, the solitary
porter to " muss," and things rapidly got " wuss."

232 Our New Zealand Cousins.

The first applicant for a ticket tendered a one-
pound note.

" Ain't ye got no smaller change ? " came queru-
lously from the official.

" No."

" Well, I can't change it. Ye'll have to wait."

The next man "planked " a half-sovereign, and
received his ticket.

I put down a sovereign, and sharply demanded
both tickets and change. Now, whether some
subordinate had in the meantime been over to the
public-house or store for change, or whether my
attitude and tone signified that there might be
trouble about, I know not, but there was no
difficulty raised in my case. The poor second-class
passenger, however, who had proffered his pound,
was kept waiting in the cold for some minutes,
until at length he managed to get an accommo-
dating friend on the platform to negotiate the
desired exchange for him.

Now " little straws show the drift of the current."
We are all unconsciously influenced very much by
first impressions. I can fancy a party of immi-
grants coming out to New Zealand ; their hearts
beating with ardent resolves, fond fancies, and high
hopes, being at once chilled and disappointed by
the bleak, wintry, inhospitable aspect of the Bluff ;
but if, in addition, they were doomed to a dose of
that railway official, I can imagine the suicide
statistics going up to a hitherto unapproached per-
centage. The man deserves promotion. He would
be invaluable as a Ministerial Under-Secretary to

Our New Zealand Cousins. 233

receive deputations, or answer questions in Par-
liament. He merits much the sort of promotion
Hainan got.

At length we started for Invercargill. The wind
howled dismally across the sandy dunes and flax-
covered mounds. It screamed and whistled across
the broad shallow bay, and dashed the blurring,
blinding rain in at every crevice of the rattle-trap
carriages. Far away over a dim, misty, flat expanse,
we got one last peep of the distant snowy sierras.
Then down again came the intensified veil of misty
clearlessness and hissing sleet.

The ride to Invercargill was cheerless in the
extreme. Here and there we pass a train track into
the once plentiful bush, now getting sadly thinned.
There are several saw-mills on the railway-line,
and sidings, piled high with planks and square
timber. Every year sees the country denuded of
its best timbers, and yet such is the Bceotian
stupidity of the average Anglo-Saxon colonist that
no organized scientific effort is made to fill the gaps,
and ensure a continuity of the supply. Verily, the
progress of humanity is a slow process.

How often do we hear the poor bewildered
doubter ask, in an agony of vain regret, t( If there
be a God, why doth He yet permit this evil, or that
abuse ? " And yet the same doubter will wax
eloquent as he expounds what he is pleased to call
the Gospel of Humanity. He exalts the human
intellect, and indulges in glowing anticipations of
the unerring fate, which is working toward the
time when " men shall be as gods, knowing good

234 Our New Zealand Cousins.

from evil." But it is the fashion nowadays to
put all the blame on God. Our doubter quarrels
with Omnipotence, and the All Wise, " whose ways
are not as our ways," because the mysteries of being,
the operations of spirit, the deep problems of man's
moral nature are not all brought into harmony with
his own crude, imperfect ideas of what should be, at
once, by a mere fiat, by a creative instantaneous
act. " And lo, man being in honour, abideth not.
He is like the beasts that perish." Take this mat-
ter of forest-felling, for instance, how short-sighted,
how crass, how like " the beasts that perish."
What amazing stupidity ; what shameless greed ;
what want of foresight, or criminal indifference to
results! Has not the lesson been proclaimed over
and over again that wholesale denudation of the
forests of a country will exact its retribution in
widespread ruin and desolation ? Forest manage-
ment has attained the rank almost of an exact
science now. It has its literature, its schools, its
laws ; but they do seem to be as a dead letter to
New Zealanders, and not, alas ! to them alone.
Occasionally a warning voice is raised, a mild pro-
test appears spasmodically at intervals in some
country journal ; but who can touch the callous
heart of the lumberer and timber contractor ? Who
can prick his seared conscience ? " Let it last my
time " is all the aspiration of his creed. " Let
those that come after me shift for themselves " is
the selfish cry that echoes in the emptiness of his
inmost soul, and finds expression in his conduct.
The legislator who would attempt a remedy ; the

Our New Zealand Cousins. 235

reformer who would stay the hand of the spoiler,
and insist on construction and destruction proceed-
ing simultaneously, is denounced as a dreamer, is
hounded down as an obstructive. Vested interests
stir up ignorance and fanaticism, and the spoiler
has his way. There is no piercing the thick hide
of self-interest. You cannot perforate the greedy
man's armour.

Now the timber industry of New Zealand is a
vast one. Millions of capital must be invested in
it, and thousands are dependent on it for their sub-
sistence. There is no need to stop timber-getting.
There is no necessity to close a single saw-mill.
But surely the plain lessons of experience and the
monitions of common sense might be acted on.1

If self-interest, or patriotism, or intelligence will
not make individuals act, then the general intelli-
gence should be roused to interfere. The State
should frame its policy so that indiscriminate havoc
should not be made with the forests. Replanting
should be insisted on, of acre for acre corresponding
to what is annually cut down. Waste should be
punished. Strict supervision should be exercised.
The classes in the commonwealth, other than those
engaged or interested in the timber trade, should
have their interests conserved ; and forestry, in a
word, should be taught and practised, and the in-
dustry made subject to the same restrictions in
kind, as have been found to be beneficial in India,
Germany, and other countries, where public atten-
tion has been awakened, and the subject scientifi-

1 See Appendix I., Professor Kirk's report.

236 Our New Zealand Cousins.

cally studied. It has been found good for the
common weal to legislate for factory workers, for
miners, for mariners, for sportsmen, for farmers
even, to impose certain restrictions and formulate
rules ; why should it not be done with lumberers
and sawyers? It is no reply to say, "Oh, the
forests will last our time." Surely we have a duty
to posterity in this matter. I am so convinced of
the evil that is being done, of the sinfulness of the
wasteful methods that are allowed, that I cannot
refrain from adding my feeble protest to that of
others abler than myself, who have from time to
time uplifted their testimony in favour of a reform
in the present conditions of iorest administration.
And in a hundredfold greater degree is it neces-
sary for New South Wales.

You speak on the subject with your fellow-
tourists. They agree with you that " something
should be done/' You refer to it in your con-
versations with farmers, theologians, legislators,
merchants, squatters, hotel-keepers, and shop-
keepers. Yes, they agree with you that the
present state of matters is wrong ; that the best
kinds of timber are fast becoming scarcer ; that
the supply at this rate cannot last for ever ; that
there is enormous preventible waste ; that even
firewood near the towns is becoming dearer ;
that the present want of system is rotten ; any-
thing you like — excepting that it is any business
of theirs to help forward public opinion, to check
abuses, and institute reformed methods. Here in
Southland vast areas, while they have not been

Our New Zealand Cousins. 237

made one whit more adapted for settlement, have
simply been despoiled of all that made the land
valuable to the State. Some few individuals have
been enrjched, but the country has been impove-
rished to an extent that would appal the heavily-
taxed farmer, and general consumer, could he be
only made properly cognizant of the fact. In some
parts where public roads had been made, or tele-
graph-lines constructed through bush country, I
have seen millions of magnificent logs, each of
them containing hundreds of square feet of sound,
merchantable timber, burnt like so much stubble,
or tumbled together pell-mell to rot, to breed
putridity, to become a loathsome eyesore, to raise
one's gorge, at the reckless, sinful waste of God's
good gifts to man.

I saw several such roads in the North Island.
Had a portable saw-mill — or, for the matter of that,
where one could go ten could go — had portable
saw-mills accompanied the road party, enough
timber might have been cut to go far toward
defraying every penny of the expense of forming
the highway. 'Tis true the road might have taken
longer time to make, the initial expense might
have been greater ; but in no country that I am
acquainted with would the returns from sawn
timber have been so absolutely ignored and con-
temptuously rejected as an item of reimbursement as
in New Zealand and, shall I say it, in Australia too.

Or take the average settler, pioneering in a bush
district. All the timber he fells is indiscriminately
burned. That is so! Is it not? It is un-

238 Our New Zealand Cousins.

doubtedly generally the case. Well, I, too, have
been a pioneer, and have had my fair share of
clearing to do. The method of my procedure,
which was not different from the general custom
there, was to cut down all useless undergrowth and
small timber first. I next selected such trees as I
intended to retain as permanent shelter. Of course,
this would depend largely on the uses to which it
was intended to put the land. My own experience
and my reading have taught me that, whether you
are clearing for pastoral or agricultural purposes,
it is wise always to retain a few trees to the acre.
In clumps to be preferred. Sometimes I would
leave a pretty wide belt, and wherever the soil was
light and poor, I would invariably retain the primal
forest on such spots, until I could put in plantations
of more useful trees.

Thus you provide for shelter, a most important
desideratum, either for flocks or crops. You also
cause less disturbance of atmospheric and climatic
conditions ; and there are other advantages, not to
speak of the beauty, which accrue from this plan^
but which, as this is not a treatise on land manage-
ment, cannot be given here.

You next proceed to fell the forest trees. I
used invariably to lop judiciously, burn what
could not be used ; but if bark was of any use, it
was saved. If charcoal could be made from the
loppings it was made, and the logs, barked and
stripped of branches, were next cut into con-
venient lengths, and stacked until such time as I
could sell them or saw them up. In Germany

Our New Zealand Cousins. 239

the chemical products from the destructive dis-
tillation of wood form a handsome source of
revenue in themselves. The reserve stock of
timber thus secured may serve the wants of
generations. I do not think it relevant to say
that such a mode might be all very fine for India,
or France, or Germany, or Great Britain, but it
would not pay in Australia. I say, give it a
trial and see. " It wouldn't pay " is too often the
cry of ignorance and sheer laziness.

The usual Australian mode, as my readers must
know, is to cut and slash and burn indiscrimi-
nately everything, and very often the timber that
goes to build the settler's habitation has to
be bought actually from some foreign importa-
tion. Surely in this vaunted age of enlighten-
ment and utilitarianism such methods are worse
than imbecile — they are sinful.

I have heard it said that " there are three things
in this world which deserve no quarter : Hypocrisy,
Pharisaism, and tyranny." To these I would add
a fourth, " waste."

Instances might be indefinitely multiplied. Is
a paling post wanted, or a log for a culvert, or a
rail to stop a gap, the nearest forest king is
straightway hacked down, leaving frequently
three or four feet of the very primest stuff in the
ground. One length is cut up, and possibly as
much precious material left wantonly to rot as would
suffice almost to keep a family for a month under
better management.

It is true a few faint, but none the less laudable,

240 Our New Zealand Cousins.

beginnings have been made. I know one lover
of his kind who has for years been making experi-
mental plantings of the most likely trees in New
South Wales. My brother, in his parish, has set
an example which is happily being followed largely
by his people. In South Australia, in Victoria —
even in the sometime laggard New South Wales —
some little is being done to stay ruthless waste ; to
improve forest administration and introduce new
supplies of fresh kinds of timber. Near Wanganui
I saw plantations, 'tis true, and the Government
must be credited with good intentions in giving
grants of land as a guerdon for tree-planting ; and,
yet, how much more might be done. Oh ! surely
if waste be sinful — as I believe it to be — might not
preachers and teachers deviate occasionally from
their sickening platitudes, to preach practical lessons
of thrift and economy in such directions as I have
been endeavouring to indicate ? Surely it would be
worthy of a patriot or statesman— yea even of a
three-hundred pound a year hireling— to devote a
little time to the elucidation of such economic
problems as are contained in wise and prudent
forest administration.

Or — let us look at the matter in yet one more
light before we leave the subject. Here is a
country so bountifully endowed with natural ad-
vantages, that at Gisborne, at Warepa, at Auck-
land, at Christchurch, out of a score of places, I
have seen trees whose one year's growth has been
twelve feet in height. We find in possession a
savage, cannibal, tattooed race, who, if they wanted

Our New Zealand Cousins. 241

a canoe, would select the most suitable tree with
care, and expend infinite toil in carving it for its
required use. If they wanted to build a whare,
the trees were as carefully selected, and as
judiciously used. There was no wanton disfigure-
ment of the grand gallery of illustration which the
Great Architect had painted in such resplendent
beauty and such magnificent variety on the fair
face of hill and dale. But at last comes civilized
man ; the last greatest crowning effort of the
" selection " of the ages; the "fittest" inhabitant
of this sublunary sphere. And what do we be-
hold ? Already the reckless devastation has been
so great, that ruin impends over more than one
deforested district. There are places where fire-
wood actually costs as much as bread ; and still
we boast of our civilization, and hug ourselves in
the intoxication of our self-worship, and " thank
God that we are not as this poor Maori." Let
him that readeth, reflect.

Why, even in sleepy Tasmania, where the forests
are much more dense than New Zealand, the re-
markable Huon Pine, once so plentiful all over
the West Coast, is all but exterminated ; and a
legislative enactment has recently been passed, so
I am informed, forbidding farther cutting of Huon
Pine for a period of fifty years. I cannot refrain
from italics. Is not this a caustic commentary
on what some of my readers may have been pooh-
poohing at, and regarding me in their hearts as a
garrulous "gowk," for presuming to speak as I
have done.

R

242 Our New Zealand Cousins.

Meantime, we are still shivering in the cheerless
railway carriage on the slow road to Invercargill.
The rain is plashing and dashing more determinedly
than ever, and it is evident we are not to see
Invercargill under favourable auspices.

And yet I was agreeably surprised at the extent
of the town. It is well laid out on a great flat
plain, with gravelly soil, and therefore healthy.
The streets are rectangular, and of a regal width.
It was most pleasing to note that the streets are
being planted with shade trees, and some day
they will be fine boulevards. The most enormous
building in the city is Walter Outline's woodware
factory. Surely in advance of the requirements
of the place. There is a spacious crescent leading
up from the railway station, some excellent hotels
therein, and four handsome bank buildings where
the main street intersects the crescent.

Of course on such a depressing day, the general
appearance was not inspiriting ; but there is a
large surrounding country, for which Invercargill
is the emporium, and as settlement increases a
steady business must always be done. At present
it has reached the nadir of its depression. A shal-
low estuary from the sea reaches to the town. It
is called the New River. Small craft can come up
on a flood tide, but the sea outlet is, of course, at
the Bluff.

The usual industries of a colonial town are
carried on — brickworks, breweries, tanneries, soap-
works, saw-mills, &c. The chief exports are sawn
timber and grain, principally oats.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 243

The New Zealand Agricultural Company has a
splendid freehold estate in Southland, the pro-
vince of which Invercargill is the capital ; and
some idea of the productive capacity of the soil,
and the importance of the farming interest may
be gathered from a bare recital of what that one
estate has done this season. Mr. Valentine, the
manager, a bright, intelligent Aberdonian, sowed
over 6000 acres with oats, and did not lose an acre.
It averaged about sixty bushels to the acre. In
addition, he has 5000 acres sown with wheat, which
usually averages forty bushels per acre. Mr.
Valentine farms on scientific principles, not by
" rule of thumb." The secret of his exemption
from the vexatious losses that visit his neighbours,
he attributes to his early autumn sowings. And
yet his neighbours will not follow his lead.

How awfully conservative is the old farmer
class ! How terribly difficult to move out of the
old routine ! Even the gods fight in vain against
stupidity.

Remenyi, the world-renowned violinist, with
whom I had the good fortune to travel from the
Bluff, gave me one or two admirable anecdotes
bearing on this very point.

" Potatoes, for instance," said the maestro. "It
is a plant that does delight in moisture ; but the
old-world farmers did always plant it on the top of
the ridge. The American Farmer, he did notice
that the best potatoes did grow in the hollow. He
did reverse the old plan ; and now everybody will
see how much better is the new plan." This told
R 2

244 Our New Zealand Cousins.

in his broken English was more entertaining than
any reproduction I can give.

To illustrate the proverbial grumbling of the
average bucolic swain, he told a good anecdote
which he heard Francis Deak, the Hungarian
patriot statesman, tell.

Deak, whose nobility of soul would allow him to
accept of no return for his splendid and disinter-
ested services to his country, used occasionally to
spend a few weeks' pleasant retirement from the
cares of politics, at the farm of a well-to-do brother-
in-law in the country.

On his arrival, on one occasion, he found his
host and relative in a very bad humour — brow
clouded, manner abrupt and unamiable ; and on
asking what was the matter, his query elicited a
querulous burst of bewailing over his wretched bad
fortune.

" Why, what's the matter ? " queried the states-
man ; " potatoes failed ? "

" Oh, no ; potatoes are a good crop."

" Vines blighted, then ? "

" No ; the vineyards have borne well."

" Wheat a failure ? "

" No ; wheat and corn have given an abundant
harvest."

" Well, what in the world are you bemoaning ?
Potatoes, vines, corn, wheat all excellent. What
can have gone wrong ? Are the cattle dying ? "

" No, no !" responded the rich Hungarian ; " but
I tried a half acre of poppy this year, and it has
turned out a dead failure."

Our New Zealand Cousins. 245

" Ah, me !;> said Deak. " How many of us think
only of our half-acre of poppies, forgetful of the
myriad good things which fall daily to our lot."

The closing note I find recorded about Southland
is that it contains the finest herd of black-polled
Angus cattle in the southern hemisphere. These
form the famous Waimea herd, near Gore, which
has taken the first prize for this class wherever
shown in Australia.

246 Our New Zealand Cousins.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Education in New Zealand — School buildings — Opinion of
a high authority — The order of educational arrange-
ments— Professor Black's mining lectures — Scheme for
instruction to miners — Technical education — Political
parasites.

To turn now more to the social than the physical
features of the colony. After the neatness and
numbers of the churches, perhaps the next thing
that most strikes a reflective observer is the atten-
tion that is paid to education, as exemplified in the
number of schools, colleges, seminaries, and other
educational buildings one meets. Although pos-
sessing a considerably more rigorous and mutable
climate than New South Wales, the school build-
ings, as a rule, are not nearly so pretentious and
expensive in New Zealand as they are in the
former colony. This one fact alone speaks well
for the practical nature of the people. In New
South Wales enormous sums of money have been
needlessly spent in erecting stone buildings far in
advance of the requirements of the times. The
schools are mostly built of wood in country dis-
tricts in New Zealand. They are comfortable and
neat. The children generally are taught together
in class on the floor ; but in the benches and at the

Our Neiv Zealand Cousins. 247

desks the boys occupy one side of the school and the
girls the other. The school furniture is fully up to
modern requirements. All the teachers I met —
and I tried to get speech of as many as I could —
were very intelligent, and possessed of considerable
esprit de corps. In such cities as Wellington,
Christchurch, Dunedin, &c., the high schools were
indeed quite palatial looking, and some of the
private educational institutions were not more
admirable in their interior arrangements for the
comfort and health of the pupils, than impos-
ing externally from an architectural point of
view.

I had the privilege and good fortune to meet
some of the highest and most honoured authorities
on educational subjects in the colony. I found a
very generally expressed opinion that the existing
system errs on the side of liberality. The burden
of the educational impost presses heavier on the
people every year. In fact, free education is felt by
manyjnow to have been a political blunder. It
was never wanted. In the bitter outcry against
sectarian teaching on the part of large masses,
the advocates of free education stole a march, and
succeeded in getting their whole programme of
free, secular, and compulsory education swallowed
entire, like a bolus. Many now think that the
giving up of the revenue derived from fees was a
useless, nay, a harmful surrender. What costs
nothing, say they, is generally not valued much by
the recipient, and anything which tends to sap the
citadel of personal responsibility and individual

248 Our New Zealand Cousins.

independence is bad for the self-reliance of the
citizen.

" In Dunedin," as a venerable and learned friend
put it to me, "In Dunedin, no one objected to school
fees. There were only a very few poor widows
who could not afford to pay ; and provision was
always made for the children of such, without any
one being any the wiser. The old instincts of
Scottish independence revolted at the thought of
parental responsibility being shirked in the matter
of the education of their children. It was held as
an article of faith by the majority, that it was as
incumbent on a parent to provide food for the
growth and development and nourishment of the
child's mind as for his body. The result of free
education by the State is," pursued my friend,
" very much to beget a feeling of entire indifference
on the subject on the part of many, and a general
weakening of the sense of parental responsibility
almost along the whole line." I try to reproduce
our exact conversation. Said I, " But you would
have education compulsory ? " " Undoubtedly ; but
if parents complied with the requirements of the
law in respect of attainments, and were willing to
pay out of their own pockets direct, why should
they be forced to make their children attend this
or that school, or submit them to the tuition of
this or that teacher ? That I think an unwise
and an unnecessary compulsion. I do not wonder
at one section of the community kicking against such
a sweeping and arbitrary enactment. It savours of
persecution, and I would resent it myself."

Our New Zealand Cousins. 249

" But does it not ensure greater economy in
working, and greater efficiency, and better
results to have a compulsory State system ?
Would not the latitude you advocate tend to the
multiplication of sectarian and denominational
schools ? "

" What has that to do with the justice of the
case ? But I do not think it would. The Free
Church of Scotland had hundreds of schools, and
she was very glad, indeed, to hand them over to
the school boards. They had always been a heavy
burden, the bearing of which had fallen almost
exclusively on the minister, who had already too
much to attend to, if he was really to carry on
his own peculiar pastoral work, and attend to his
public ministrations with any degree of acceptance
and success. The consequences have been all for
good, in the case of the Free Church of Scotland,
and I do not think that, with the exception of
the Roman Catholic Church, and possibly a
section of the Anglican, any movement in the
direction of having schools separate from the
State schools will ever be made here."

" But would not the secularists object ? "

" What matter if they did ? I do not think
that secularism is so strong as some people would
like to make out. There is a distinct reaction
against it here in this community." (We were
speaking of Dunedin at the time.) " The feeling
that I am glad to say is gaining strength amongst
us is, that the Bible should be read in all the
public schools. I would apply the principle of

2 50 Our New Zealand Cousins.

local option to Bible teaching, as to whisky selling.
If the majority of the people in a country town — we
will say Balclutha, for instance, — wished to have
the Bible taught in their schools, why should the
veto of Dunedin prevent it, and vice versa ? Of
course, to obviate individual hardships, any child
might have exemption from attendance on the
Bible classes under a conscience clause."

" But suppose the Catholics and Anglicans did
set up separate schools, would they not demand a
share of the proceeds of the education cess, as a
result of your proposed modifications ?"

" Well, and they might have it ! I would allow,"
said my reverend old friend, " I would allow a
capitation grant from the general revenue, con-
ditional on the child passing the secular standard
established by the Government educational depart-
ment. In Canada there is an education rate,
and Catholics are there allowed to pay over their
rates to their own schools, whether high or ele-
mentary. All are, of course, inspected and
examined by the Government officials, only the
Government does not examine in religious teaching.
This has worked admirably there, and is the best
and fairest compromise that could be made between
the advocates of purely secular teaching on the
one hand, and denominationalism on the other."

I give this conversation as being the boldly-
expressed opinions of a representative man. I
found they were shared by the majority of the
intelligent colonists I spoke to on the subject.
There was evidently in Otago and Canterbury a

Our New Zealand Cousins. 251

reaction against secularism pure and simple, and
the advocates of Bible teaching in schools would
in my opinion poll an immense majority if it came
to a vote.

The order of educational arrangements is briefly
thus : —

The first step is the primary school. These
primary schools are thickly scattered over the
length and breadth of the land. Attached to
every school is a glebe and house for the teacher.
A system of what is called provincial scholarships
is in force— so many for juniors and so many for
seniors. These are open to the youth of both
sexes, and are tenable for three years. They
ensure the holder free education, either in a district
high school or in such high schools as those of
Dunedin, Christchurch, Wellington, Timaru, &c.
In fact, all the principal towns boast of their high
school.

In the " Otago boys and girls high schools
Dunedin," for instance, there are more than fifty
resident pupils getting free education, who either
hold provincial scholarships, or who, in the com-
petition for these, have made fifty per cent, or
over of the necessary marks. This, surely, is a
liberal arrangement.

Some high schools again have a higher grade of
scholarships ; these are tenable for three years also,
are of the value of 4<D/. per annum, and the holders
must take the arts course in the University of
Otago. This University itself also offers two
scholarships of similar value and condition.

252 Our New Zealand Cousins.

The New Zealand University, which is merely
an examining body, offers also every year about
a dozen junior, and about half that number of
senior scholarships. These are open to the whole
colony. There are also exhibitions and scholar-
ships founded by wealthy and patriotic patrons of
learning, and the Otago University has at least
one nomination for a military cadetship, at the
Royal Military College at Sandhurst.

The scholarships of the University of Otago are
of three kinds : The Junior, of the annual value
of 45/. ; the Medical Scholarships, annual value
loo/. ; and the Senior, which are fixed each year
by the Senate at its annual meeting. There are
also money and book prizes for best essays, and
other inducements to aspirants after academic dis-
tinctions. Altogether, the endowments and en-
couragements to students are on the most liberal
and praiseworthy scale.

There has also been good organization among
the teachers and professors, for mutual improve-
ment. During the last seven years it has been the
custom for the professors in Dunedin, to give
Saturday lectures in turns, for a few months every
year, to school teachers solely. The response by
the teachers has been most cheering. Hundreds
come down every Saturday during the course,
from a radius of eighty miles from the city. The
teachers pay a guinea to the Government for
their ticket, which entitles them to admission to
the lectures, and their railway carriage to and fro.
A most liberal concession ! The movement, three

Our New Zealand Cousins. 253

years ago, extended to Christchurch, and is now
a fixed institution there, and it is now being started
in Wellington.

It would be well if some such admirable custom
could be inaugurated in connection with our
splendid Sydney University.

This is not the only evidence of the practical
good sense and energy which the educational
bodies in New Zealand bring to bear on their
work.

Last year the Otago University Council, re-
cognizing the need of practical instruction in many
departments of industry outside the academic walls
as well as inside, tried the experiment of sending
Professor Black to the mining centres to lecture 'to
the miners, and the result was a pronounced
success. The subject is of such practical im-
portance to communities such as ours, in a young
country where minerals are of such frequent
occurrence, that I make no apology for tran-
scribing copiously from Professor Black's
report.

The professor first of all went to the mining
centres on the West Coast, where there are ex-
tensive gold-fields. There he says :

" I delivered forty-four lectures at fifteen differ-
ent places, and established testing classes at nine
centres. The attendance at the classes was very
satisfactory, many miners in several districts taking
a holiday during my visit, so as to avail them-
selves more fully of the testing classes.

" At Boatman's, near Reefton, I was joined by

254 Our New Zealand Coiisins.

Mr. Alex. Montgomery, M.A. of this University
(Otago), on March I4th, and during the remainder
of the tour he was of the greatest assistance to me,
taking an active part in every department of the
work. Mr. Montgomery also delivered lectures on
' Geology, Mineral Veins, Faults,' &c., in Grey-
mouth, Kumara, Hokitika, and Ross, and visited
the coal-mines at Koranui, Coalbrookdale, and
Brunner, as well as several of the largest quartz
reef mines at Reefton, Boatman's, and Lyell. Mr.
Montgomery's lectures, like my own, were very
well received everywhere, and a strong desire was
expressed in many quarters that he should be
available for carrying on this kind of teaching in
the district. The subjects of my lectures were the
following : — I. How quartz reefs were formed.
2. How gold came into the reefs. 3, 4, and 5.
The chemistry of gold. 6. The extraction of gold
from quartz. 7. The chlorine process for extract-
ing gold. 8. Sodium amalgam, and its use in
saving gold. 9. The amalgamation of copper
plates, and the removal of gold from them. 10.
The analysis and assay of gold-bearing stone.
ii. The ores and metallurgy of silver, lead, tin,
copper, antimony, zinc, mercury. 12. The chemis-
try of sheelite, &c.

" In the testing classes the students themselves
went through the processes for testing metallic
ores containing the metals named above, Mr.
Montgomery having charge of the blowpipe pro-
cesses, whilst I directed the wet chemical opera-
tions.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 255

" In the more important centres, when the
miners were beginning to see how simple and
practical were the methods of testing ores, they
began to form themselves into clubs (subscribing
usually i/. each) 'to procure the appliances
necessary for carrying on the testing of ores
after my departure. Before the end of April ten
of these clubs were in existence, with their chair-
men and secretaries, and funds subscribed, with
a membership ranging from thirteen to thirty-
five each, total membership about 200. At two
other places, clubs were being formed when I
was just leaving the coast. The following are
the centres where clubs are now in existence : —
Reefton, Boatman's, Lyell, Westport, Waiman-
garoa, Greymouth, Kumara, Hokitika, Ross,
Goldsborough ; and in process of formation at
Dillmanstown and Rimu. Public meetings were
held in most of the centres to apply to the
Government and the University of Otago for
assistance in the way of instructors and facili-
ties for procuring appliances at the smallest
cost.

" During my whole visit I received the warmest
support, not only from the miners and the civic
authorities, but also from the clergymen of all
denominations, medical men, and druggists. The
press also very heartily advocated the movement,
and published elaborate reports of the processes of
testing. During my visit to the coast, as well as
to the Otago gold-fields, I was strongly impressed
with the large field open for teaching to crowds of

256 Our New Zealand Cousins.

intelligent men such subjects as geology, minera-
logy, the use of the blowpipe, the chemistry of
minerals, the extraction of metals from their ores.
The men are there thirsting for this kind of know-
ledge. They at present present the saddening
spectacle of standing together in clubs, with funds
subscribed for procuring chemicals, books, and
apparatus, but with no one left to teach them the
use of these appliances. There was never a
better opportunity offered to any Government,
or University authorities, of providing suitable
means of instruction to so large a number of
earnest students eager to receive it. And no
body of students will make a better or more
direct and immediate use of the instruction pro-
vided for them.

" Such instruction, if liberally provided, will
convert very many of these miners into most
intelligent prospectors, since they will then be
able to identify a valuable ore when they find
it (which is not the case at present). The
country will reap a thousandfold in the develop-
ment of its wonderful mineral resources any
expenditure judiciously made in this direc-
tion.

" It is important that help to these clubs come
soon if it is to come at all. It is much easier to
keep them going now than it will be to resuscitate
them again if they are allowed to die for lack of
support. I need not say that it will give myself
the greatest pleasure to take an active part during
the summer holidays in carrying on the move-

Our New Zealand Cousins. 257

ment so auspiciously begun in connection with
your ' School of Mines.' "

The Professor was farther so impressed with the
importance of the work thus auspiciously begun,
that he has formulated a scheme which he for-
warded to the Minister of Mines to provide
special instruction in several branches of know-
ledge on the gold-fields.

The branches of knowledge embraced in this
scheme are as follows : — " i. Geology, the general
subject including modes of occurrence of useful
minerals, prospecting for useful minerals by
boring and otherwise. 2. Ore-dressing, in-
cluding gold-saving machines, treatment of
auriferous sulphides (sulphides of iron, copper,
antimony, arsenic, &c.), the preparation of
valuable ores for the market. 3. Mineralogy,
including the wet and dry processes for determin-
ing minerals, the physical characters of useful
minerals, instruction in the use of the blowpipe.
4. Metallurgy, including the 'characters, tests,
and mode of occurrence of the ores of gold, silver,
lead, mercury, copper, tin, antimony, iron, zinc,
manganese, and cobalt, and the processes for
smelting these metals or reducing them from their
ores. 5. Analysis and Assaying, including practical
instruction in the processes for assaying metallic
ores. In these testing classes, which I regard as a
most valuable part of the scheme, the students
themselves will perform the work under the direc-
tion of the instructors. It is for the prosecution of
this kind of work that the local schools of mines

S

258 Our New Zealand Cousins.

have been formed. 6. Mine-surveying. 7. Mining —
These, I think, may, in the meantime, be provided
for by an arrangement with one or more of the
local mining engineers." So much for Dr. Black's
admirable syllabus.

Can any one doubt that the systematic carrying
out of such a scheme as this would redound im-
mensely to the credit of the Government, and
to the welfare and progress of the mining com-
munity ?

A Technical College has, in Sydney, New South
Wales, been in existence for some years, and has of
late been launching out upon a wider sea of enter-
prise, making tentative efforts in directions some-
what similar to the foregoing. Such efforts are a
healthy sign of awakening interest in this import-
ant work of practical technical education. They
are deserving of the warmest sympathy and com-
mendation of. every patriotic Australian ; and the
itinerary of one such lecturer is worth all the
twaddle and fustian of all the stump politicians and
demagoguic nostrum-mongers who muster thick in
Sydney, and who air their incoherent and in many
cases antiquated and exploded theories with a
vehemence and fervourwhich, if applied to some
honest occupation — say breaking blue metal, for
instance — would make even these wind-bags
superior to all the frowns of fortune. Your politi-
cal spouter and conference organizer, however, has
a wholesome horror generally of hard work for
himself. The golden gift of eloquence, or what
he mistakably assumes to be its equivalent,

Our New Zealand Cousins. 259

"glibness of gab," is accepted by him as the
direct guerdon of a kind Providence to enable him
to live sumptuously on the proceeds of the hard
work of others. Such men are the parasites of the
body politic.

S 2

260 Our Nezv Zealand Cousins.

CHAPTER XIX.

The farming industry — Technical education for farmers —
An agricultural department a necessity — State of farm-
ing in Australia — Slovenly methods — New products —
Necessity for experiment — Village settlement — Water
conservation — Futility of a protective policy.

THERE is in the Australian colonies, alas ! another
branch of national industry, more ancient and
honourable even than that of mining, and which is
even more in need of the wise help of well-wishers,
and the sympathy of friendly counsellors. We
read and hear of much being done for the mining
interest, and no one grudges all that is being done
to elevate this most important industry to a posi-
tion commensurate with its deserts. But what
about the patient farmer and toiling husbandman ?
What is being done by our universities, our govern-
ments, our politicians, to help forward the grand
old primal industry, and to accentuate the homely
old aspiration of " Speed the plough " ? Trades
unions and guilds exist in plenty, by the laudable
efforts of which the position of the artisan has been
much ameliorated. Organizations exist, by which
the class interests of special sections of the com-
munity are jealously guarded, and their rights and
privileges conserved. But why is it we hear so

Our New Zealand Cousins. 261

much in New South Wales, at least, of the poverty
of the farmer ; of the disabilities and drawbacks
under which tillage labours ; of the disinclination
which undoubtedly exists among young Australians
to take to the plough and become cultivators of
the soil ?

Is it that farmers are more divided, less intelli-
gent, more indifferent and less energetic than the
artisan and the miner? Surely, for the very
honour's sake of the sower and reaper, we cannot
say that.

Is it that the climate is too rigorous, our soil too
poor, and our returns too scanty, our expenses too
excessive, our fiscal policy too unaccommodating,
our markets too limited, or our rulers too
antagonistic and unsympathetic, that agricultural
pursuits seem to languish ? Some of all of these
causes are assigned by various authorities ; but
whatever be the reason, it seems to be the common
opinion that farming in Australia, as it is under-
stood in the old country, does not pay. It is an
undoubted fact that among the masses in general,
much apathy and ignorance does exist on this most
vital subject, the progress of our agricultural
industry.

Now surely it will not be denied that farming is
of equal importance to mining. It is certainly
capable of more widespread application. It gives
employment to more inhabitants in the State. It
is, in fact, the industry par excellence which forms
the basis and foundation of all others. All other
implements, where usefulness is concerned, must

262 Our New Zealand Cousins.

yield the place of honour to the ploughshare.
And yet is it not a notorious fact that the practice
and science of tillage is sadly neglected in Australia
generally ? Instances of wasteful and ignorant
farming are not confined to New South Wales.
They are common enough even in New Zealand.
Surely if a school of mines is a necessity, a school
of agriculture is not less so. (I merely select
mining for the purpose of a comparison, and not
with the intention of undervaluing its great impor-
tance). Yet certainly if lectures on metallurgy
and mineralogy are valuable, instruction by
practical experts in the chemistry of soils, the laws
and phenomena of growth, the relations of climatic
influences to varieties of products, and the experi-
mental introduction of new plants, new processes,
and new adaptations of natural and mechanical
forces to the art and practice of cultivation,
whether in field or garden, are of equal importance
and desirability.

The plain fact is, I take it, that from a broad
national point of view, the vast importance of
farming, whether pastoral or agricultural, has been
much under-estimated, if not altogether overlooked.
Mining speculations, commercial undertakings, en-
gineering works, explorations, politics and polemics
have all loomed largely in the public eye ; but the
work of the silent ploughshare, of the meditative,
unobtrusive husbandman, has attracted little
notice, either from the honest patriot or the
scheming self-seeker. Farmers have been too
widely scattered (one of the direct results, in New

Our New Zealand Cousins. 263

South Wales, at least, of indiscriminate selection
before survey), and have been too disunited, to
make them attractive-enough material for the
blandishments of the professional demagogue ; but
the inevitable Nemesis which follows a disregard
of Nature's laws is now forcing the question of
agriculture to the front. Farmers' unions, too,
have been established of late years ; and the
farmer is now becoming an object of more interest
to certain classes, who see in him a convenient peg
on which to hang a pet nostrum, or a handy hack
on which to ride some cherished hobby.

For myself personally, I can claim to have been
a persistent and consistent advocate of the import-
ance of our agricultural interests ever since I cast
in my lot for good in this the land of my adoption.
By writings, by lectures, by experiments, by dis-
tributing seeds and plants, by every influence I
could command, I have never lost an opportunity
of trying to rouse public attention to the vital
importance of this much-neglected branch of our
national industries. I have been a humble co-
worker with some of the brightest and noblest
spirits in the colonies ; but the most brilliant
individual efforts are, after all, apt to get lost in
the immensity of conflicting interests which agitate
young and expanding communities such as these.
The time has come when a Department of Agri-
culture should form part of our administrative
machinery. A Minister of Agriculture is a
necessity for New South Wales no less than for
New Zealand. If Victoria, South Australia, India,

264 Our New Zealand Cousins.

Canada, to say nothing of such countries as
France, Germany, and other continental states,
including even little Denmark, have found it a
wise provision, surely the necessity is even greater
for an imperfectly developed country like New
South Wales ? Experimental farms and schools
of farming are badly wanted, and must be founded,
if we are to keep pace with the achievements of
other communities, utilize to the full our splendid
possibilities, and hold our own in the march of
material and mental progress.

I have already spoken of the wasteful methods
in vogue with the New Zealand farmer ; as, for
instance, in the disposition of straw, neglect of
manure, disregard of draining, and so on ; but a
much more serious matter is the exhaustion of
the land in many of the earlier settled districts.
Continuous cropping without rotation or rest has
worked its usual result in Otago, Canterbury, and
Southland, as in County Cumberland in New
South Wales, and in other parts of Australia.
The rotation of crops is part of the alphabet of
agriculture ; but it would seem as if Australian
farmers were really, in some respects, ignorant of
their first letters. Or is it that they are too lazy,
or too greedy ? " Soft words butter no parsnips ! "
Anyway, I believe soft soap is a poor salve.
" Faithful are the wounds of a friend, but the
kisses of an enemy are deceitful." It is the
veriest folly to imagine that any soil, even the
richest, can be cropped year after year with the
same crop, and not become impoverished. Wheat,

Oztr New Zealand Cousins. 265

for instance, takes a certain set of constituents
from the soil. These must be given back in the
form of manure, or the land inevitably becomes
less able to grow wheat. Disease is at once a
consequence and an evidence of insufficient nourish-
ment. Hence many common crop diseases are
Nature's protest against a direct infringement of
he*r laws. It is probable that if lands round
Camden,1 we will say, had been well-manured, or
if farming by rotation had been practised, rust
might never have put in an appearance in
County Cumberland. Now, in the earlier times,
wheat seemed to be the ultimate limit beyond
which the mind of the farmer never rose. Even
now the bucolic mind is desperately conservative,
and it seems hard to make the ordinary farmer
understand that if wheat will not pay, something
else might. Instead of resolutely tackling the
problem of experimenting, of availing himself of all
the modern discoveries and improvements in the

1 Camden, a beautiful district in County Cumberland,
New South Wales, is one of the earliest settled parts of the
colony. It was here that wheat-growing was first introduced
into Australia, and for years the rich soil gave returns so
enormous, that the farmers in their foolishness cropped the
soil to death. Subsequently rust made its appearance, and
for many years wheat -growing has been abandoned, mills lie
empty, silent, and unused, and sorrel, briars and weeds have
taken the place of the golden leagues of waving grain. The
farmers too grew lazy and inert. Fruit and grape growing
has been tried latterly, but at the present moment phylloxera
has made its appearance in some few vineyards in the
district, and the Government are meditating measures for its
extirpation.

They are only meditating. How long they will meditate
before they will act it is impossible to say.

266 Our New Zealand Cousins.

art and practice of agriculture, he too often gets
led away by some irresponsible will-o'-the-wisp, in
the shape of some glib-tongued theorist, who seeks
a remedy for short crops and poor prices in such
cabala as reciprocity, free-trade, protection, reduc-
tion of railway rates, and so on.

There is a certain text in an old-fashioned book
which will persist in forcing itself on my memory
when I hear the plausible specifics of such Sangra-
dos. It is one of those proverbs which the scribes
of Hezekiah copied out, and it is well worthy the
attention of every farmer. It is a promise and a
warning, which is peculiarly applicable to Austra-
lian farmers in the present juncture. It is this :
" He that tilleth his land shall have plenty of
bread ; but he that followeth after vain persons
shall have poverty enough/'

When coffee in Ceylon was blasted by the
blight which ruined more than half the planters,
and nearly wrecked the prosperity of the island,
what has been the result ? It was seen how
dangerous it was to rely on any one staple ; how
important not to have all the eggs of national
prosperity in one basket. Now Ceylon is entering
on a new and extended lease of renewed vigour
and prosperity. Tea, cinchona, india-rubber,
cocoa, and other products are yielding splendid
returns, and much of this resuscitated life and re-
awakened enterprise is due to the experimental
gardens, and the work which has been done by
planters and others in acclimatizing new plants
and trying new products.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 267

So, too, with Mauritius. The over-production
of sugar, with the consequent collapse of the sugar
market, brought the staple industry of Mauritius
to the verge of extinction ; but now it is found
that coffee, the aloe, china-grass, fibres, and other
products can be successfully grown ; and it is
certain that good, and not evil, will be the ultimate
issue of present perplexities.

Surely such lessons are plain enough for us to
learn them here.

All the schools and lectures and experiments in
the world will not furnish the farmer with moral
attributes. They will not provide him with thrift,
energy, intelligence, industry ; but if in the posses-
sion of these, they will help him to use them to the
best advantage, and I think it is in this way we
can secure the most practical protection to the
pristine profession, and give the most living impetus
to the great agricultural industry.

Doubtless there are many drawbacks attendant
on farming in Australia and New Zealand, such
as want of capital, dearness and scarcity of labour,
which act as a handicap on the struggling husband-
man at the antipodes, but there are none the less
grave grounds for reproach, and plenty of oppor-
tunities for candid self-examination and reform-
Both in New Zealand and Australia, I have fre-
quently observed with pain and regret the sloven-
liness and wastefulness of the methods employed
by farmers in the ordinary work of the farm.
There is frequently, too, the smug self-satisfaction
of the incurably self-conceited egotist. Many

268 Our New Zealand Cousins.

ignorant dunderheads are too self-complacent to
" take a wrinkle ;" too hopelessly obtuse to act on
a hint ; too slavishly wedded to antiquated custom
to profit by the experience of others.

To give an instance : I once remonstrated with
one man for burning the stalks of his maize crop.
I informed him they were nutritive, contained
much saccharine matter, could be chopped up and
mixed with chaff and straw, and when moistened,
and a little salt added, made an excellent fodder,
and were so used by the Germans and by the
cultivators of India. The old farmer only insulted
me for my well-meaning bit of information ; but
a young neighbour of his took the hint, and it has
resulted in a very considerable addition to his
income.

Wherever any farmer has resolutely set himself
to discard old, antiquated notions, and gone in for
modern farming, availing himself of the use of
modern labour-saving machinery, and growing
such crops as were most readily saleable, growing
them, too, on a scale large enough to enable him
to concentrate work and expenditure, the result
has, in every case I have observed, been a trium-
phant vindication of science over rule of thumb,
and such men, though they may grumble at lots
of things, do not blame either the soil, the climate,
or the country.

If we in New South Wales can buy potatoes,
wheat — nay, even cabbages, cheaper from Victo-
rian, New Zealand, and South Australian farmers,
the natural course is to buy them, and let our own

Our New Zealand Cousins. 269

farmers turn their attention to something that will
pay better. And so it is I advocate the establish-
ment of experimental farms, and a department of
agriculture as an imperative necessity, to say
nothing of the beneficence of such a policy. There
are drugs, dyes, fibres, fruits, oil-seeds, vegetables,
timbers, barks, piths, nuts, roots, even mosses,
weeds and fungi, with multitudes of valuable fodder
plants, which are eminently suitable to our soil,
adapted to our climate, and congenial in every way
to all our conditions. It is in introducing these,
in making these known that our experimental
farms would be so beneficial. In no other way
that I can see would so much national good be
done at so little cost, Methinks that in this direc-
tion even the most bigoted protectionist, and the
most utilitarian free-trader might work hand in
hand.

Another feature of New Zealand rural life which
struck me was the frequency of villages — the
nearness of neighbours — in a word, settlement in
communities, as contrasted with the isolated,
detached way in which habitations are found set
down at wide, weary intervals, in most of the
country districts of New South Wales. Indeed,
village life, such as we know it in the old
country, or as it is found in many parts of
New Zealand, is scarcely known in our older
colony. The evils of indiscriminate, unrestricted
selection — the Ishmaelitish, nomadic proclivities
of the roving land-grabber of the old regime are,
alas ! " twice-told tales " in New South Wales ;

2 /o Our New Zealand Cousins.

but in New Zealand, especially in Otago, a more
human and humane system had evidently been
followed from the first As a consequence, farms
and fields were neatly fenced and divided.
Village churches were numerous ; common centres
round which clustered the neat homes of village
tradesmen and traders. Farm-houses were trim
and neat, and adorned with gardens and orchards
much more than is common in Australia. Waste
places were fewer, roads were more numerous
and better kept, and, in fact, rural settlement
was more forward ; and notwithstanding a wide-
spread depression commercially, consequent on
continued bad seasons and low prices for produce,
the people looked healthy, happy, and contented,
and I saw nothing to indicate any absence of the
material comforts, and even the common luxuries
of life.

For many years I have advocated that a trial
should be given in Australia to oil crops. Some
time ago I contributed articles to various journals
on the subject, and made special reference to it in
my last published volume,2 and it was gratifying to
find instances during my tour that proved my
ideas were not chimerical. I found, for example, a
few progressive farmers turning their attention to
linseed as a crop. I have on record the results of
several of these trials. I find that even with a
yield of half the number of bushels of linseed to
the acre as compared with wheat, the oil seed crop

2 " Our Australian Cousins." London: Macmillans, 1880.

O^^r New Zealand Coiisins. 271

pays better than the cereal. An average price of
5-$". 6d. per bushel is procurable in Dunedin all the
year round for linseed, and I am convinced that
rape seed, mustard seed, sesamum, gingelly, castor
and other such crops would be more suitable to
our climate and pay our farmers better.

Much might be written on this subject, but the
space at my disposal is limited. New Zealand is
so bountifully endowed with that merciful gift of
heaven — water — that she has an undeniable
superiority over us in this drought-infested colony
of New South Wales ; but this is only another
argument to strengthen my contention that we
do not utilize our gifts to the full as we might.

Water conservation might well go hand in hand
with the experimental work of an agricultural
department. As an instance of what private
enterprise can accomplish, I may mention that in
the far west now, I am privileged to be a co-
worker with a public-spirited and wealthy land
owner, and on rich soil, such as we have for count-
less leagues on our great western plains, he is now
irrigating and preparing land for sowing with
tropical crops, and the result may be the in-
troduction of several new and remunerative
industries.

With irrigation, a plentiful supply of agricul-
tural labour, intelligent experiment and collation
of facts and dissemination of information under a
well-organized and active agricultural department,
a liberal land system, which will seek to minimize
harassing restrictions and exactions, and give

272 Our New Zealand Cousins.

fixity of tenure with compensation for all improve-
ments by which the value of the land would be
permanently enhanced, such as dams, tanks, wells,
&c. — the lot of the farmer in New South Wales
might be enormously advantaged, and it is in this
direction that the friends of the farmer must work,
and the hare-brained twaddle we hear about a pro-
tective policy for the farmer, which would tax him
heavily on every implement of husbandry for the
benefit of an insignificant section of weak-kneed
manufacturers, which would seek to force him into
a continuance of his present unequal fight with
Nature, in which he vainly tries to grow products
for which his soil and climate are not so well
adapted as those of his competitors in more
favoured neighbourhoods, and which, in a word,
seeks to sap his energies, rouse his worst passions,
inflame his discontent, and make him less self-reliant
and enterprising, instead of encouraging him to
patient investigation and intelligent experiment.
All this irresponsible chatter, I repeat, .by imprac-
ticable theorists and hobbyists, all the protection
conventions, vain-glorious challenges to public
debate, and organized stumping of the country by
fluent farmers' friends, who perhaps don't know
the difference between a plough and a pickaxe,
would not do one tithe the good that one experi-
mental farm would do. In fact, by distracting
men's attention from practical measures, and rais-
ing clouds of dust on theoretical issues for purely
personal political ends, these self-dubbed saviours
of the farming interest do irremediable harm.

273

CHAPTER XX.

Good-bye to the bluff — A rough passage — Tasmania in the
distance — Coast scenery — A nautical race — Ocean fish-
eries— Neglected industries — Fish-curing — Too much
reliance on State aid — The view on the Derwent —
Hobart from the sea — An old-world town — " No spurt
about the place" — Old-fashioned inns — Out into the
country — A Tasmanian squire — The great fruit industry
— A famous orchard — Young Tasmanians — The hop
industry — Australian investments — The Flinders Islands
— A terra incognita — Back to Melbourne.

THE icy breath of the South Antarctic was caus-
ing finger-tips to tingle as we steamed away from
Invercargill in the good ship Wairarapa, and left
the shores of Maoriland to fade away in the blue
haze of distance. What a feast of picturesque
grandeur and beauty had we not stored up in
memory ! What visions of the wondrous glory of
the Almighty's creative skill did we not recall as
we pondered over the incidents of our all too short
summer holiday ! And yet we had not half ex-
hausted the marvels of this land of wonders. The
weird solemnity of Lake Taupo, with its volcanic
eruptions and abysmal activities ; the awful
majesty and rugged grandeur of the Alpine gorges
and passes ; the labyrinthine intricacies and as-
tounding sinuosities of the West Coast Sounds,
with their startling contrasts of blufif and craggy

T

2 74 Our New Zealand Cousins.

peak, dashing cascade, and calm azure depths of
unfathomable sea, heaving gently at the foot of
beetling cliffs — the perils of mountain ascent, over
glittering glacier and tumbled moraines — the blush-
ing vintage and orchard bounty of the far north —
the billowy prairies of rustling grain in the more
robust south ; — all these we might have witnessed,
had time been at our disposal ; but all these, and
marvels many times multiplied, may be seen by
any one possessed of leisure and means, who may,
after reading these notes of mine, feel the impulse
born within him to follow our example, and pay a
visit to this glorious country. I once read a book
on the marvels of India entitled, " Wanderings of
a Pilgrim in Search of the Picturesque." There be
many pilgrims now-a-days after the same quest ;
but India and all the magnificence and colouring of
Oriental pomp and luxury — all the barbaric splen-
dour of "the land of the peacock's throne" —
cannot, I think, compare with the majestic pro-
digality, the lavish adornment with which Nature
has so generously and richly attired the mountains,
plains, lakes, forests, and coasts of New Zealand.
For variety of natural scenery I do not think any
country on our planet can vie with it. Little
wonder, then, that any one having a soul in har-
mony with the beautiful in Nature, ever so little,
and gifted, if even but sparingly, with the faculty
of expression, should revel in description of these
wonders. As a countryman of Burns and Scott, I
confess I could not resist the impulse, and if I
have given any of my readers only a tithe of the

Our New Zealand Cousins. 2 75

pleasure by my descriptions that the actual
witnessing of the scenery itself has given me,
then I feel that I am repaid for all my scribe
labour ; and possibly, if I have been the means of
exciting a desire to behold for one's self the
wonders of Maoriland, I will reap a rich reward of
kindly benediction by-and-by, I am sure, from
travellers who may follow my footsteps, checking
my accuracy and sharing in my delight.

We had a rough, nasty passage to Tasmania.
The bounding billows of the South Pacific belie
their name ; and the peristaltic motion they impart
to the diaphragm begets tendencies the very reverse
of pacific. " The vasty deep " in these southern
regions gets very much mixed and tumbled up, in
the winter months, and the accompaniment to the
cheerful whistling of the merry winds in the rigging,
was a series of groanings almost too deep for utter-
ance in the cabins below. We were glad when the
bold coast of Tasmania hove in sight. Cape Pillar
was the first promontory to greet us. Certes, how
the icy blasts shrilly piped their roundelay. The
spray from the cut- water hissed past us as we stood
on the poop, and made the skin tingle, as from the
lash of a whip. As we got abreast of Port Arthur,
the scene of horrors and cruelties and iniquities of
demoniac intensity in the old convict times, the
elements quieted down somewhat, and we were
able to enjoy the varied panorama that rapidly
unfolded itself before us as we sped swiftly along.

Dense forests clothe the country from the far-
off inland hills down to the cliffs that guard the
T 2

2 76 Our New Zealand Cousins.

coast. At Cape Raoul the basaltic columnar
formation of the coast is very strikingly dis-
played. The cliffs jut out in serried series of
mighty pillars, just like the perpendicular pipes
of a great natural organ. The blast wails and
shrieks amid the nooks and crannies, and anon
sobs with a gurly undertone of lamentation as it
whistles past. All the cliffs in shadow are white
with hoar frost, and their minute icicles glitter
like diamonds, while the sunny portions, wetted
with spray, gleam with a sheen which is positively
dazzling.

Now Storm Bay opens out before us. As if to
sustain its reputation, the icy blast comes swirling
round the snowy summit of Mount Wellington
with augmented force, and chills us to the mar-
row. We were informed that snow on Mount
Wellington is abnormal. Anyway the night-
cap was on when we were there, and the
weather was bitterly cold. Now we catch the
gleam of a white lighthouse on a small island right
ahead. Lovely bays open out on the right.
The long, glistening estuary of the Derwent, studded
with the bleached sails of numerous yacht-like craft.
The long blue indistinctness of the river line of the
Huon, with here and there a sail relieving the
uniformity of tint. The swelling forest-clad hills
closing up the background, and now the homesteads
and ' green fields here and there dotting the long
acclivity in front, all made up a scene which for
breadth, animation, brightness, prettiness, you
would find it hard to beat anywhere. The knolls

On r New Zeala n d Cous ins. 277

at the mouth of the inner bay are quite park-like
with their clumps of bosky wood. Round the
various points, sailing close up in the wind, creep
whole flotillas of fishing and trading ketches.
Tasmanians are famed for their dashing seamanship.
The broad estuary is thronged as if a regatta were
being held. Some of the ketches lie very low in
the water, and some heel over in regular racer
fashion. Most of them have a deep centre-board.
Ask the skipper where is his load-line. .He will
answer, " Up to the main hatch." They are
manned by a hardy, adventurous race, who number
among their ranks some of the very finest boat
sailors in the world. What splendid herring fishers
they would make ! Yes, if we only had the
herring ! *

And yet around the Australian coasts what
hauls might be made with proper appliances, and
what a source of wealth have we not in the teem-
ing millions of fish that haunt the shores, and
breed among the islets and in every bay and
estuary. Here is another of the neglected indus-
tries that might give employment to hundreds
of our colonial youth. It needs no coddling by the
State. It would flourish without the aid of fustian
claptrap. It might exist without any custom-house

3 Since the above was penned, an effort has been made
to acclimatize this well-known fish. A large consignment
of herring ova was sent out to Melbourne, but unfortunately on
being opened, the whole shipment was found to have gone
bad. There is little doubt that the trial will again be made,
and that the introduction of this valuable fish is only a
matter of time.

278 Our New Zealand Cousins.

interference. All that is wanted is energy,
enterprise, a little daring, and hardihood, a little
common-sense organization, and the machinery for
disposing of the fish after they are caught. If some
enterprising capitalist would only import a crew
from Cornwall, or Montrose, or Buchan, or
Lerwick, to show our Australian youngsters how
they do it in the more treacherous and boisterous
seas of the inclement north. I think the
venture would pay a good dividend ; and I am
quite sure every well-disciplined and properly-
balanced gastronomic mind would hail such an
attempt to introduce a change .from the eternal
"chop, steak, and sausages," with a chorus of
benediction.

In New Zealand, fish-curing is a thriving and
lucrative calling. In every hotel delicious smoked
fish form a never-failing adjunct to the breakfast
table. Large quantities are exported and reach
Victoria, and go to other parts. Why can we not do
likewise in New South Wales ? Again I ask — is it
ignorance, or apathy/ sloth, want of energy and
enterprise, or what is it ? Are we so mildewed
and emasculated with the eternal molly-coddle
of the Government pap boat, that we cannot launch
out and start a new industry like this by private
enterprise ?

Has the dry rot of subsidy and bonus so wizened
us up that all private initiation and independent
effort is atrophied? Surely when natural channels
pf enterprise such as this exist, and are only
waiting to be tried seriously and sensibly, to

Our New Zealand Cousins. 279

succeed — nay, to brilliantly succeed — is it not folly
— is it not sinful, for patriots with exuberant
verbosity, to get up and demand that the State
shall impose protective duties on this and that in-
dustry, thus hampering the free play of commercial
activities, strangling all noble self-reliance, and
crushing all independent spirit out of a people
already deeply infected with the demoralizing
doctrine that the State is to do everything, and that
private pluck and enterprise are a mistake and a
delusion.

Some time ago several Chinamen started fish-
curing on one of the northern lakes in New South
Wales, and at the time I knew the place, they were
doing well and making a good thing out of it.
But then there arose vicious and evil practices, such
as the sinful slaughter of myriads of young fry —
the use of illegal nets, the wholesale destruction of
spawn by means of dynamite, &c., and I believe
the fishing on that part of the coast was pretty
well murdered. It is a saddening and a humilia-
ting reflection that, with all our self-complacency
and self-congratulations about our marvellous
resources and wonderful natural wealth, we really
do so mighty little practically to develop the one
or utilize the other.

Possibly the hardest-working and most self-
reliant class we have in the Australian community,
it seems to me, are our miners or diggers and
prospectors ; and upon my word, our mining
legislation generally, seems deliberately designed
with the object of making things as hard for the

280 Our New Zealand Cousins.

miner, and putting as many obstructions and
impediments in his way, as possible,

But to hark back. Here I am off the track
again, and pursuing my impetuous way from
smoked fish to mining reserves, without ever a
thought towards the patience of my readers !

One of the most prominent features that shows
boldly out from the background of boscage as the
visitor nears the narrows of the Derwent, from the
open roadstead, is a gigantic shot tower, which must
have been built in the very early days when the
Hentys were pioneers over on the Victorian coast,
and when the clanking irons of the chain gang must
have been a constant sound in the infant settle-
ment. Let the reader get that weird and awful
record of the convict system, contained in Marcus
Clark's novel, " His Natural Life," and he will then
have an idea of what man's inhumanity to man is
t^pable of. The old tower is not the only evidence
of antiquity about the place, as we shall presently
see. Meantime look at the chequered patterns on
the hill-sides. Black ploughed fields alternate
with the squares of green young crops, and these
again with symmetrically arranged orchards and
vineyards. Yes, this is the chosen home at the
antipodes of the ruddy-cheeked and golden-haired
Pomona. One can almost fancy there is a fruity
fragrance floating on the breezes that sweep over
the laden trees. Away to the left, the long
gleaming water-way of the tortuous Huon,
crowded with ketches, wanders in and out
among the hills, which are here clothed from

Our New Zealand Cousins. 281

base to summit with forests of blue and red gum,
stringy bark, Tasmanian cedar, and other valuable
timber trees.

Now as we glide onward, the homely old city
opens out, backed by the steep bulk of Mount Wel-
lington, whose tawny shoulders are now streaked
with drifted snow. A fortress is here also in
course of construction, though it seems, to my
civilian eye, to be easily dominated by the heights
at the back. Here lies Hobart at our feet, shining
in the sun, and climbing, in errant and leisurely
fashion, the easy slope which trends upwards from
the water's edge.

A knoll projects out into the water in the middle
of the city, and the houses cluster thickly round
the two bays thus formed. The farther one is
seemingly the busiest, as there are the wharves,
warehouses, and populous streets. The ware-
houses are enormous. The roofs are lichened and
grey with age. Alas ! they are mostly empty.
The old whaling days, and the days when large
convoys sailed in from their six months' voyage,
with Government stores and European goods have
gone, never to return. The great barracks and
long dormitories are silent and deserted now. The
big stone buildings, built with a solidity which is
all unknown to the contractors of this shoddy age,
have a forlorn and desolate look, and there is an
unmistakable air of decayed gentility and de-
parted grandeur about the place which is some-
what depressing. Away on the left, at the head
of the little bay, a multitude of gleaming white

282 Our New Zealand Cousins.

tombstones marks the site of the city of the dead.
These look like the great white bones of stranded
whales bleaching and glistening in the sun. To
the extreme right a fine stately mass of warm-
tinted buildings flanks the city, and affords a
charming relief to the eye, as it crowns the low
eminence on which it is set. * This is Government
House, and round about it, encompassing it with
a band of silver, steals the gently flowing Derwent,
winding past a broken chain of wooded bluffs,
which terminate the vista in a confused mist of
leafy luxuriance.

We are now nearing the massive wharf. There
is timber enough in the structure to make a dozen
of our modern wharves. What an old-world look
the place has ! Many of the houses are built of
red bricks, the roofs are brown with lichen, and
wrinkled with old age. And yet there is an
absence of life and a want of energy and bustle.
Lots of badly-dressed young hoodlums loll about,
leaning against the great stacks of shingles
(Hobart palings) which are piled up in vast quan-
tities ready for export. Of these are the fruit-cases
made, which take away the wealth of the orchards,
for which the island is famous — groups of young
girls saunter about arm-in-arm ; queer old habitues,
clad in quaint garments of antique cut, hobble
about and exchange nautical observations with
each other. Several dismantled whalers lie at
their moorings, and the huge warehouses hem in
the scene — silent, deserted, empty.

" There ain't no spurt about the place ! "

Oitr New Zealand Cousins. 283

ejaculates an observant Yankee fellow-passenger ;
and he aptly enough expressed the sensation it
gives one who witnesses the whole scene for the
first time.

Time seems to be measured by Oriental
standards here. All work is done in a leisurely
fashion. An old horse is discharging cargo by
means of a whim, instead of a steam crane, from a
Dutch-looking lugger. Piles of hop bales litter
the landing-place, and it would seem almost as if
their hypnotic influence had cast a sleepy spell
over the whole environment. The very steeples
on the old grey churches in the city seem to nod
in the gathering haze, and the smoke from the
chimneys curls aloft in a somewhat aimless fashion,
as if the fires below were all only half alight. An
enthusiastic Victorian cannot refrain from com-
menting on this general attitude of sleepiness.

" Humph," says he ; " there's the effects of free
trade for ye — not a blessed factory or a steam
engine in the whole place ! "

A little boy with a wan, pinched face, and the
shabby-genteel look which patched and darned
but scrupulously clean clothes gives to the wearer,
now accosts us. " Board and residence, sir ? " he
pipes in a squeaky treble. Poor little fellow,
doubtless a sad tale he could tell. And so my
gentle little travelling companion with a woman's
quick imagination, begins to weave a romance of
misfortune and penury, in which the little tout
figures as the heir of a noble but decayed family.
The mother, a fragile uncomplaining martyr, faith-

284 Our New Zealand Cousins.

ful to the shattered fortunes of a gallant husband,
and so on and so on ! All this was poured into
my ears as we sped along, and it was with much
difficulty I restrained the tender-hearted little
dame from trotting back to verify her romance
from the poor boy himself.

In the summer season most of the houses are
let to visitors from Sydney and Melbourne, and
there are certainly large numbers of decayed
gentlewomen and retired officers on half-pay, and
such like, who eke out their slender incomes in
this fashion.

Here is another evidence of the antiquity of the
place. The names of the curious old inns — they
transport one back to dear Old England at once.
Here is The Queen's Head, The Bell and Dragon,
The Eagle Hawk, the Maypole Inn, and so on
through all the old familiar nomenclature. The
gable ends elbow their way into the streets ; the
bow windows project over the pavements ; the
mossy roofs, with quaint dormer windows half
hidden by trailing creepers, the stone horse troughs
and mounting steps, the dovecotes and outside
stone stairs to the stables, the old stone walls
bulging out in places and tottering to their fall, all
speak ofmerrie England ;" and one can scarce
fancy that these dull dead masses on the distant
hills are gum-trees, and that this is part of Austra-
lasia.

We quickly hire an open landau and are driven
by a rosy-faced young Jehu into the open country.
The suburbs are very pretty. We pass beautifully-

Our New Zealand Cousins. 285

kept gardens, rich lawns, handsome stone houses.
Ever and anon one of these quaint old inns.
Churches are plentiful. Some have square towers,
and are covered with red tiles, which give a warm
touch of colour to the landscape. We pass the old
orphan schools, now used as an invalid station.
Yonder is a pottery — there a bone mill. Here
the show and cricket grounds. On all hands grand
orchards of great extent, trim rows of cottages,
country houses standing back amid great planta-
tions of symmetrically planted fruit-trees. On the
right the Elwick racecourse, with its grand stand of
red brick, and the Launceston railway, running
close by ; and now in front, the silvery Derwent
opens out like a lake ; and as we gaze across Glenor-
chy, with its hop kilns and tannery, and the pretty
village of Bryant's Bridge sheltered by high wooded
ranges, and nestling cosily round the old square-
towered rustic church, we feel the whole charm of
the place stealing upon us, and no longer wonder
at the fair daughters of Tasmania so loyally main-
taining the supremacy of their little island for
natural beauty against all rivals.

Having heard so much of the fruit-growing in-
dustry of Tasmania, I was anxious to see an
orchard for myself. Fortunately, we shared com-
mon interests with one of the fine old pioneers of
the island, a grand old English gentleman, with
cheeks as rosy as his own apples, and a heart as
sound and ripe as the sweetest and best of them,
though his hair was now whitening, like the almond
blossom before the door of his hospitable mansion.

286 Our New Zealand Cousins.

Turning up a lane, between sweet-smelling hedges
and goodly rows of chestnuts, with a great expanse
of pleasant fruit-trees on either hand, we accord-
ingly drove up to the old manor-house, and
politely inquired for the proprietor. Our advent
had already been observed, and out came the old
squire himself to receive us ; and no sooner did
we make ourselves known to him, than the hearty
English welcome we received made us more than
ever doubtful that we were not the sport of some
beneficent fairy, and that we were not really back
in the old country after all.

The manor-house, with its many buildings, was
the very picture of an old English homestead.
The spacious courtyard, green with grass, sur-
rounded by the stables, barns, and outhouses ; the
running brook close by, wimpling merrily over its
pebbly bed ; and all around, the trim avenues of
neatly pruned fruit-trees and bushes, with the big
black bulk of the wooded mountain in the rear,
— composed such a picture of rural happiness and
contentment as is rarely seen out of " Merrie
England." Then the smell of apples about the
place. Apples by the ton in the long low lofts
and cool spacious granaries ; apples and almonds
of the choicer sorts in the verandahs and in
sweetly-scented rooms. In the orchard a lovely
pond, green with mosses, lustrous with the sheen
of sun and water, and fringed with loveliest ferns,
was well stocked with fish, which are here acclima-
tized, and from which the streamlets are being
stocked. From the spacious verandah we look

Our New Zealand Cousins. 287

right across the fertile valley to " Rest Down,"
the earliest settlement in the island, so called
because the first people " rested down " here in
old Governor Collins's time. Then the broad
sweep of the river intervenes, and fifty miles off,
the great dividing range of the Table Mountain
closes in the scene. The remains of the first
chimney built on Tasmanian soil was visible at
Rest Down up to twenty years ago.

This particular orchard comprises forty-five
acres. Last year the owner sold 2000 bushels of
gooseberries, 3000 bushels of currants, and other
fruits, including apples. In two years he raised
fifty tons of strawberries on the estate. For the
last twelve years the average return per acre has
been over 6o/. I saw two and a half acres of
gooseberry bushes, from which 500 bushels of fruit
are picked every year, and which are sold at 4^-. 6d.
per bushel. This beats wheat hollow. On the
other side of the estate I was shown over ten
acres of fine black soil, beautifully worked, and
kept as clean as a Behar indigo field. During the
ninth year of its cultivation this small patch yielded
1000 bushels gooseberries and 2000 bushels apples,
for which the ruling prices are 4^. 6d. to $s. per
bushel. And yet if one talks to the ordinary run
of Australian farmers about new products, about
fruit-growing, tomatoes, vines, oil crops, anything
out of the eternal old grind of wheat, and other
usual cereals, he is laughed at, sneered at, jeered
at, and stigmatized as visionary, conceited, and
goodness only knows what else.

288 Our New Zealand Cousins.

Black currant bushes were shown me here,
which yield two, and even three bushels per plant,
and the fruit is sold readily at 1 1 s. per bushel. To
show the enery and practical, management of my
host, he showed me 'where he had walled up a
flood-water creek, which used formerly to run
riot through the orchard, and the land so reclaimed
was being levelled and planted with young trees.
He had cut down bush trees and saplings, and
made a corduroy road of these, on which he was
carting his soil, stones, and material for the work
of reclamation. As the garden grew at the far
end, the corduroy road was taken up and the
wood used for fuel, and the very road was being
dug up and made eligible for the reception of
more young trees. Nothing is wasted under his
able management. Manure is liberally applied,
and the inevitable result was everywhere apparent
in bounteous returns and substantial plenty.

Along the roads were belts of walnut-trees, and
several magnificent almond-trees were pointed out
to me, of the fruit of which I partook, and found
the almonds simply delicious. And yet such is
the prejudice or apathy of the general public, that,
my host informed me, his almonds were a drug in
the market. Actually /o/. were paid through the
custom-house during the last six months for im-
ported almonds, while the home-grown article,
infinitely superior in quality, was absolutely un-
saleable.

You see, protection through the custom-house
is not the infallible recipe for " every ill that flesh

Our New Zealand Cousins. 289

is heir to " that some " doctrinaire's " would have
us suppose.

My old entertainer had very decided opinions
about the causes of the prevailing depression and
stagnation in the island. When I deplored the
lack of energy which I noticed : —

" Bah," said he, " there's plenty energy, but it's
misdirected, sir ! Our young people will dance
at a ball till two or three in the morning, and play
lawn tennis all day to boot ; but they are too ill
and languid to get up to breakfast, and would let
their own mother wait on them in bed. They will
go to a picnic right up to the top of Mount Welling-
ton ; but they are too weak to go two miles to
church unless they go in a carnage. Our young
people are too well off, sir. Their parents made
money in the old times, and the young ones had
no inducement to work, when assigned prisoners
could be got for io/. a year. So our young men
grew up with no settled industry, no application,
and the country feels the curse of indolence and
want of enterprise now."

Such was the dictum of my old friend. I make
no comment on it. The moral is obvious.

My friend was enthusiastic in his advocacy of
orchard farming as against cereals. All his young
trees are now on blight-proof stocks. He has up-
rooted all his hedges and cultivates right up to his
boundary walls, and even trains trees against them.
He pointed out the property of a neighbour thirty-
four acres in extent, which a few years ago was
purchased for 3OO/. cash. During the first three

U

2 go Our New Zealand Cousins.

years the buyer got half his money back, and in
two years they took over fifty tons of strawberries
from fifteen acres.

" Where is the cereal that can equal that ? "
triumphantly queried my host. Certes ! Echo
answers, " Where indeed ? "

Another product for which the island has be-
come famous is its hops. Since its first introduc-
tion in 1822 by Mr. W. Shoobridge, the industry
struggled on through many fluctuations, and in
1 867 numbers of new growers erected kilns forcuring
the hops at various places, and hop-growing be-
came fairly settled as one of the leading industries
in the New Norfolk district. The low prices in
1869 — 70 checked for a time the progress of the
industries, but now it seems fairly established, and
as time goes on, adding to the experience of the
growers, and their ability to turn out a good article,
there seems every reason to predict a great future
for Tasmania as a hop-growing country. The lead-
ing kinds at present grown are the early white
grape, goldings (Canterbury) ,and lateorgreen grape,
and also a very early kind called the red golding.

In 1879 the Agricultural returns give the follow-
ing statistics : 587 acres ; produce, 738,616 Ibs. ;
value of hops exported, 26,5127. ; weight, 558,622
Ibs.

After a very pleasant day among the orchards
we rejoined the steamer, and sailed for Melbourne
during the night.

Next morning we had a beautiful view of
the picturesque coast of the goodly little

Oztr New Zealand Cousins. 291

island. Between- Hobart and Swan Island we
passed no less than three localities where
coal exists. Mines have, in all three places, been
opened and since abandoned. There is no doubt
that in minerals Tasmania is very rich. Like all
the Australian colonies, she only wants capital,
and more abundant labour, to become the theatre of
busy and remunerative industries. The quid-nuncs
of the London Stock Exchange smile and shrug
their shoulders at the mention of Australian
investments. For the gambling purposes of
London jobbers, securities must be readily nego-
tiable ; and Australian stocks and shares, though
offering three, and even four times, the rate of
interest obtainable on the floating media of Capel
Court, are of course not readily negotiable or
vendible, and so for the present they are neglected.
The time will come, however, nay, is on the
approach now, when capitalists and workers, both,
will better understand and more intelligently
appreciate the boundless resources of Australasia,
and a new era of enterprise and development will
undoubtedly set in, which will advance the cause
of true Anglo-Saxon federation more than all the
fussy claptrap of irresponsible theorists, who speak
so much and really do so little.

As an illustration of how really little is known
of Australia, even by those who might be imagined
to know most ; the captain, as we were talking on
this theme, pointed out to me the Flinders Island
which we pass between Hobart and Melbourne.
This group contains more land than all Samoa,
U 2

292 Our New Zealand Cousins.

about which so much fuss is being made at present,
and which has almost led to a grave imbroglio
between some of the European great powers.
The Flinders are by all reports rich in mineral
wealth, and yet they are practically ignored, and
their very existence unknown to the great majority
even of Victorians, who are so enthusiastic (and I
for- one do not blame them,) about the conquest of
South Sea Islands, the annexation of New Guinea,
and the opening up of new markets for Victorian
manufactures. The islands contain a population
of some sixty individuals, mostly half-castes, the
result of the intermarriage of runaway sailors with
Tasmanian aborigines. Sheep and cattle are
reared by these islanders, but no attention is paid
to growing either wool or beef on a commercial
scale. They make a living which suffices for all
their simple wants out of their flocks and herds,
and their diet is eked out with the eggs and
oil of the mutton bird, both of which they also
export.

The bird itself, after the oil is expressed, is
smoked, and forms one more antipodean paradox.
It is familiarly known as the Australian smoked
herring, and yet it is a bird. A toasted smoked
mutton bird, both in smell, taste, and colour, is
scarcely distinguishable from a smoked bloater.
They are said to be very nourishing, and invalids
find them toothsome and appetizing.

Maria Island, one of the group, has been leased
to an Italian for the purpose of trying to intro-
duce silk culture.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 293

Amid a succession of icy squalls we reached
Hobson's Bay, threaded our devious way up the
unsavoury Yarra, and were pleased once more to
take up our quarters in that most homely and
comfortable of caravanserais, Menzie's Hotel, and
so for the present we bid a reluctant adieu to our
New Zealand cousins.

294 OUT New Zealand Cousins.

CHAPTER XXI.

Summary — Importance of the colonies sometimes overlooked
at home — Their commercial importance — Fields for
capital — Mineral wealth — Farm products — New in-
dustries— Field for farmers — Liberal land regulations —
Openings for artisans — For labourers — Free institutions
— A land of promise for willing workers — Inducements
for seekers after health and lovers of the picturesque —
The clouds clearing — Returning prosperity — The peace
and unity of the Empire.

BRIEF as had been our sojourn among " our New
Zealand cousins," and rapid as had been our
journeying through the islands, it will 'be evident, I
think, from what I have recorded in the foregoing
chapters, that enormous progress has been made
during the last twenty years in all that tends to
build up sound national life. The history of New
Zealand in its connection with the mother country
is, in fact, the history of all the Australian colonies.
Too often has their importance been but grudgingly
recognized, where it has not in some instances been
overlooked altogether by the leaders of thought
and political life at home. Of late years, thanks to
such true Britons as Professor Seeley and others,
ample amends have been made for this whilom
neglect. The tendency now is all the other way.
With the multiplication and development of im-

Our New Zealand Cousins. 295

proved means of communication, the pulsations of
colonial life are more quickly and keenly felt at
the heart of the empire. Their political importance
is no longer ignored ; but it is open to some doubt
if their commercial importance is as yet adequately
recognized. What fields are there not here open
for the employment of British capital in exploiting
our mineral wealth alone. We hear of millions
being sunk in Southern India, Spain, and elsewhere,
yet I know myself of gold, silver, copper, tin, anti-
mony, bismuth, coal, slate, marble, lead and other
deposits in dozens of localities in Australia and New
Zealand, all of which would give certain and ample
returns to judicious investment. In silver alone, of
late years, the application of improved methods
has at one jump lifted Australia into the foremost
ranks of silver-producing countries. If English
capitalists would utilize the services of competent
scientific mining engineers, metallurgists and
mineralogists ; if they would assist their colonial
cousins with part of their wealth, to properly pro-
spect the country, there might be such a " boom "
in mining, as would draw more closely than ever
the heart and circumference of the Empire together,
and forge fresh bands of solid substantial profits,
mutual inter-dependence, and community of
material interests between all portions of our race
which would quickly result in a very real tangible
federation indeed. But not only in minerals do
these colonies offer inducements to the capitalist
at home. Hundreds of promising industries are
retarded for want of the necessary capital. Oil

296 Our New Zealand Cousins.

mills, for example, would be an instant success, if
the farmer were only assured of a steady market
close at hand for his oil crops. Tobacco-growing
would increase a hundredfold and would become
a lucrative investment, if capital were judiciously
expended in putting up the necessary appliances
for manufacturing the leaf. Butter, cheese, and
bacon factories are even now increasing, but are
capable cf indefinite multiplication. In the manu-
facture of essences and essential oils, there are
splendid openings for investment, and indeed there
is scarcely a product of nature used in the arts or
sciences that could not be profitably grown and
manufactured in these colonies were but the right
men imbued with the desire to try them. As a
rule the colonial farmer is a poor man. Clearing
is expensive ; wages, fortunately for the labouring
classes, are high ; and the facilities for securing
land have hitherto been great, so that most settlers
have been tempted into purchasing more land than
they could profitably work, with such resources as
have been at their command. Now, however,
capital might be encouraged to bring the aids of
combination, modern machinery, and skilled enter-
prise, to the aid of the farmer. In fruit-preserving
alone, were the right methods adopted, there are
fortunes lying ready to be made, beside which the
profits of similar enterprises in old lands would
seem petty and mean. As it is, all the available
capital in the colonies is profitably invested, and
any return under six per cent, is looked on as on
the whole rather unsatisfactory.

Our New Zealand Cousins. 297

In fisheries I have suggested boundless poten-
tialities ; and indeed nature has been so lavish in her
gifts of raw material, that if we could only fairly
set moneyed men and men of inventive genius
thinking, and induce them to throw in their lot
amongst us, we could not fail to benefit by the
accession, and they would never have cause to
regret their advent.

To farmers with a little capital, who find too
circumscribed a sphere for their energies in the old
lands, the colonies present an inviting field. Land
is yet plentiful and cheap. The returns for faith-
ful tillage are bountiful and certain, and there
is no end to the variety of products that may
be grown. " Corn, and wine, and oil," is no figure
of speech as applied to the products of these
colonies, but a plain matter-of-fact statement.
As regards New Zealand, for instance, the fol-
lowing statement illustrates the anxiety and
determination of the Government to foster agri-
culture, and it should not be forgotten that roads
and railways are constantly being constructed,
and new markets being opened up.

" In order to test the sincerity of the outcry
for land by professional political agitators, as well
as to prevent the chronic appeals of the labouring
classes to the Government through alleged lack of
employment, the Minister of Lands has devised a
new land scheme. The leading features of it are
the setting apart of blocks of land as special
settlements — in the first instance in Wellington
province, but if successful, the scheme will be

298 Our New Zealand Cousins.

extended to other provinces — to be occupied on
perpetual leases for a first term of thirty years, and
a second term of twenty-one, without any right
of acquiring a freehold. Rental is to be based on
the capital value of the land, the minimum price
being two per cent, per acre, and the maximum
area twenty acres to any applicant, who will get it
without competition, as priority will be determined
by lot. Among the essential conditions are
residence, cultivation, and that the land shall
not be subdivided or sublet. Government will
contribute 2O/. towards building the settler's
house, and, if land is bush, will give the average
price to enable the selector to clear and sow the
section in grass. The State will then charge on
value of the land five per cent, per year, and on
the sum advanced for the improvement the same
rate. A start will be made in the middle of
June of the present year (1886) to make the
initial experiment at Parihaka, and the Govern-
ment state the settlements will be located near
towns or railways where labour is attainable,
and where the land is suitable for small indus-
tries."

To active, intelligent artisans, and workers who
have no capital but their own stout hearts and
strong, willing limbs, these colonies present a field
for their enterprise, such as is nowhere else existent
at this time upon the earth. We have no room for
the intemperate idler, the loafer, or incompetent,
chicken-hearted, slovenly shirker. We have enow
of these, God wot, already ; but there is work out

Our New Zealand Cousins. 299

here for every willing, capable, self-respecting man,
under circumstances of such material comfort, such
increased remuneration, such political freedom, such
generous fare and charm of climate, with all the
accessories and surroundings of community of
speech, race, religion, and home institutions, as are
nowhere else procurable in any dependency of the
Empire. A little " roughing it " there is certain to
be at first. Things will be a little strange to begin
with. The streets of colonial cities are not paved
with gold, and indeed the towns and cities are in
any case not the best fields for the labourer in
the colonies, but if a man is willing, adaptable,
handy, cheerful, sober, and determined to get on,
depend upon it he cannot fail of a success, which is
all but impossible of achievement in the crowded
and narrow sphere of the labourer's life at home.

To the seeker after health, these colonies offer
the fountains of renewed youth. At all times of
the year by judiciously changing the locality, you
can live in perpetual summer, with an air as balmy
and bracing, and perfectly enjoyable, as can fall to
the lot of mortals here below.

To the lover of the picturesque, and the seeker
after the pure delights that a communion with
nature ever yields, I think my pages of description
surely afford ample promise that a visit cannot
possibly be fraught with disappointment.

The clouds of commercial depression are lifting.
The native difficulty seems to be fairly and for
ever settled. Politics, let us hope, are becoming
purified. The long succession of deficits has at

300 Our New Zealand Cousins.

length come to an end. Last year's estimates
have shown a surplus of 37,ooo/. The coming
year has an estimated revenue of over four
millions, with an anticipated surplus of 42,ooo/..
This is accompanied by a diminution of the
property tax to the amount of 24,000!. The
population is increasing satisfactorily. Public
works of much importance, and of a reproductive
character, are being vigorously prosecuted ; and
those already carried out, are year by year
becoming increasingly reproductive. The feeling
of friendly regard and brotherly affection for the
dear old mother country seems only to become
accentuated as time rolls on. The signs of
returning and permanent prosperity are everywhere
apparent. Intellectual and mental life is vigorous ;
religion and learning are advancing ; and on all
sides, the outlook is hopeful and the signs fortuitous.
It is to be hoped indeed that our New Zealand
cousins are entering upon a new era of peaceful
progress and steady advancement in everything
that will tend to build up true national greatness,
and help to preserve the unity, the peace, and the
dignity of that great Empire of which their
southern island home is one of the most beautiful
and most fruitful dependencies.

3Ci

APPENDIX I.

NEW ZEALAND FORESTS.

PROFESSOR KIRK has prepared a voluminous report on the
forests of the Colony and the state of the timber trade, which
he has forwarded to the Minister of Lands. The report
deals with each provincial district separately, but the forests
of East Cape and the southern districts of trie North Island
have yet to be treated of. The following are portions of the
report : —

THE SOUTHLAND TIMBER INDUSTRY.

In Southland there are still 312,467 acres of virgin forest
out of 345,197 reserved by the Crown. It will thus be seen
that the area already denuded by sawmillers is 32,730
acres. There are thirty- six sawmills in operation, employing
about 700 men, the average weekly expenditure for wages
being I2oo/., or about 65,ooo/. per annum ; the total output
being estimated at 24,000,000 superficial feet of inch thick-
ness per annum. The Southland timber trade is certainly in
a depressed state at this time, caused by over-production,
though the rapid development of Southland trade has closed
mills in Catlin River, annihilated the coastal timber export
of Westland, and greatly restricted that of Marlborough and
Nelson. The timber converted in Otago district does not
amount to more than one-fourth of the annual output of
Southland, so that Southland practically supplies the markets
of the southern portion of the Colony from Invercargill to Ash-
burton with red and white pine, and exports cargoes to Queen
Charlotte Sound, the Wairarapa, and the Manawatu. The
quantity of timber shipped from Southland ports coastwise dur-
ing the year ending 3 ist March, 1885, was 1,659, 038 superficial
feet ; to foreign countries, 1,107,674 feet. There can be no doubt
that the foreign trade is capable of considerable expansion.
The total area of forest land granted for sawmill leases during
the three years ending 3oth September, 1885, is 5901 acres, so

3<D2 Appendix.

that, including the mills working on private land, over 200
acres of forests are denuded yearly in Southland alone.

THE OTAGO FORESTS.

Otago has an area of 13,759,000 acres Crown lands, but
the Professor thinks the area of really good forest will fall
below 1,000,000 acres. From a return prepared by the
Commissioner of Crown Lands for Otago, I find that eleven
sawmills are in operation in the district, while two others are
returned as not working. The total number of men employed
is stated to be 101, and the annual output slightly exceeds
7,600,000 superficial feet. Although six mills are stated to be
worked by engines of six-horse power only, the number of
men may safely be increased to 160, and will then contrast
poorly with 700 men and boys employed in the Southland
sawmills. Licenses in Otago are granted for sections of 100
acres, at the rate of i/. is. per acre, payable in three annual
instalments. Licenses are granted to split and cut firewood,
fencing, &c., on sections 200 feet square, on payment of 2/. los.
per annum. The total receipts from both sources amount to
rather more than 5oo/. per annum.

TIMBER INDUSTRY IN CANTERBURY.

The proportion of forest land in the Government district of
Canterbury is less than in any other part of the Colony, large
portions of the districts being absolutely divested of trees
except where small plantations have been made by settlers.
The district has an area of 8,693,000 acres, of which 374,350
acres are considered to be more or less clothed with forest,
but as the chief forest areas are situated in mountainous
country, the quantity of timber available for the purposes of
sawmills is extremely small. No timber is being cut in
State forests in Canterbury under license at the present
time. The land is sold at 2/. per acre, including timber.
Twenty-one sawmills are in operation, and the average output
of each is less than 500,000 feet per annum, the total not
exceeding 9,893,000 superficial feet.

WESTLAND.

The area of Westland is estimated at 3,045,000 acres, of
which 1,897.558 acres are covered with splendid forest still
in the hands of the Crown, in addition to 632,519 acres of
lowland scrub or inferior forest. At the present time most
of the mills are not working more than one-third time, and

Appendix. 303

some even less. The actual output at the present time
scarcely exceeds three million superficial feet, while the
number of men employed is 291, conversion being restricted
to sufficient to meet local demands, the coastal trade having
completely passed away. The freehold may be acquired in
Westland for i/. per acre, including the timber. Licenses
to cut timber are granted for one year on payment of a fee
of 5/., or los. per month, but no definite limitations are made
with regard to area. Practically, the licensee has liberty to
cut wherever he pleases within the boundary described in
this license, no supervision being attempted.

NELSON FOREST LANDS.

The area of the provincial district of Nelson is estimated
at 7,000,000 acres, the forest lands still in the hands of the
Crown comprising an area estimated approximately at
3,290,000 acres ; but this quantity includes good mountain
forest, scrub, and patches of timber in gullies, &c., so that it
is extremely difficult to form an approximate estimate of the
average of timber available for profitable conversion. In all
probability it will not exceed 1,000,000 acres. Twenty-two
sawmills are in operation in the district, and afford employ-
ment to 130 men and boys. The total output is stated at
5,360,000 superficial feet.

THE TIMBER INTERESTS OF MARLBOROUGH.

Marlborough has 2,560,000 acres, one-fifth of which is
covered with forests of varying quality. Fourteen sawmills
are in operation in the district, and afford employment to
175 men and boys. The annual output is estimated at
8,606,340 superficial feet. Sawmills were established in this
district in the very early days, a large supply of good timber
growing in situations of easy access, and the facilities for
shipping coastwise have proved an irresistible inducement.
It is therefore no great matter for surprise that most of the
forests near the sea have been practically worked out.

THE AUCKLAND TIMBER INDUSTRY.

The provincial district of Auckland comprises 17,000,000
acres, and includes the most valuable forests in the Colony.
The area covered by forest is estimated by the chief surveyor
to contain 7,200,000 acres, of which about 1,606,350 acres —
including the reserves— are still held by the Crown. A re-

304 Appendix.

markable feature of the forests of the Northern District is
that while they possess timber-trees not found in any other
part of the Colony, they comprise as well all the kinds found
in the other provincial districts. The kauri is by far the
most valuable timber-tree in the Colony. For good conti-
nuous kauri forest, 20,000 superficial feet per acre would be a
rather low average, but much of the land classed as kauri
forest may have only one or two trees per acre— equivalent,
say, from 3000 to 5000 superficial feet.

The following approximate estimate has been prepared by
Mr. S. P. Smith, chief surveyor : — Kauri forest in the hands
of the Government, 36,470 acres ; owned by Europeans,
58,200 acres; owned by natives, 43,800; — total, 138,470
acres. Mr. Smith states his belief that a considerable pro-
portion of the kauri forest still in the hands of the natives is
subject to rights of Europeans to cut timber therefrom,
and adds : " In making up this estimate I exclude forests in
which the timber, as far as my knowledge goes, is scattered
and not likely to pay for working at present, and take only
that which is fairly accessible.''

Referring to the timber industry of Auckland, Professor Kirk
says that the return drawn up by the Registrar-General states
the number of sawmills to be 43, of which eight are worked
by water-power. The annual output is stated to be 48,63 1 ,206
superficial feet, and the number of persons employed 1443
men and 35 women. These are very much below the proper
numbers. The total value of timber exported from Auckland
is returned at i35>952/., or more than five times as much as
all the rest of the Colony put together. The Auckland saw-
mills must be classed amongst the best in the world. The
largest are considered to be unequalled in the southern hemi-
sphere. In one or two cases employment is given to nearly
500 men and boys, and the annual output of each is stated to
exceed 8,500,000 feet per annum. At the present time there
are numerous mills with an output of 5,000,000 feet and
upwards. One mill, with an annual output of 500,000 feet, is
stated to have sufficient timber to last for over 30 years, but
this is an exceptional case. With possibly two exceptions,
all large mills have sufficient standing kauri to keep
them going for the next 12 or 15 years, at least, at the present
demand.

THE EXTINCTION OF THE KAURI.

Professor Kirk concludes his report, as follows : — "Esti-
mating the total extent of available kauri forest at 200,000
acres, and placing the average yield at the high rate of 1 5,000
superficial feet per acre for all classes, the present demand

Appendix. 305

will exhaust the supply in 26 years, making no allowance for
natural increase of local requirements. If, however, the
demand expands in the same ratio that it has shown during
the last 10 years, the consumption in 1895 will be upwards
of 240,000,000 superficial feet per annum, and the kauri will
be practically worked out within 1 5 years from the present
date. Under these circumstances, the best interests of
Auckland and the Colony at large demand the strict conser-
vation of all available kauri forests. The progress and wel-
fare of northern districts have been largely due to her
magnificent forest resources, and their conservation will
prove an important factor in the permanence of her prosperity.
The utilization of the ordinary timbers should be encouraged,
and it should be an axiom with the settlers not to use kauri
when red or white pine can be made to answer the purpose.
Any steps tending to postpone the period of exhaustion will
be of the greatest benefit to Auckland, as they would allow
a longer period for the growth of kauri timber to take
place within the restricted limit in which replacement is
possible. Should this warning be unheeded, a large displace-
ment of labour will result, and the prosperity of the North
will be greatly retarded.

306 Appendix.

APPENDIX II.

Extracts from the Sydney Daily Press relating to
the recent eruption of Mount Tarawera.

Sydney Morning Herald, Friday, June nth, 1886.

AUCKLAND, Thursday.

INTELLIGENCE was received here early this morning from
Rotorua, stating that a terrible volcanic disturbance had taken
place at Mount Tarawera. The residents of Rotorua passed
a fearful night. The earth had been in a continual state of
quaking since midnight. At ten minutes past two this
morning the first heavy shock of earthquake occurred. It
was accompanied by a fearful subterranean roar, which
caused the greatest alarm to the residents, who immediately
ran out of their houses. A grand yet terrible sight met their
gaze. Mount Tarawera, which is in close proximity to
Rotomahana, suddenly became an active volcano, and from
the summit of the mountain immense volumes of flame
belched forth to a great height. Streams of lava ran down
the sides of the mountain.

The eruption appears to have extended itself to several
places southward.

Dense masses ^of ashes came pouring down in the
neighbourhood of the settlement at Rotorua at 4 a.m.,
accompanied by a suffocating smell, which rose from the
lower regions of the earth. An immense black cloud of
ashes hung like a pall over the country for miles round,
extending in a line from Taheka to Wairoa.

At 3 a.m., a terrific report aroused the sleeping
inhabitants of Taupo. An immense glare of a pillar-shaped
light was observed to the N.N.E., and a great black cloud
hung over this pillar. It was concave on the underside
and convex on the upper, whilst meteors shot out from

Appendix. 307

the cloud in every direction, shedding unearthly bluish
lights all around. Loud reports, accompanied by very heavy
shocks of earthquake, followed in quick succession. The
earthquakes continued till 6 a.m., when daylight dimly
appeared, but the clouds of ashes which hung over the
country rendered the light almost invisible. The trembling
inhabitants thought that the end of the world had come.
Two hitherto extinct volcanoes, Ruawhia and Tarayvera,
threw an immense column of flame and smoke into the
heavens. Molten lava and hot mud ran in all directions,
while huge rocks and masses of fire went up and around
everywhere.

June 1 2th, 1886.

Refugees from Wairoa describe the eruption of Okaro, one
of the peaks of Mount Tarawera, as a magnificent, but terrible
sight. It is estimated an area of country sixty miles in
extent has been either under volcanic eruption, or affected
by the upheavals. The scene at Wairoa is described by
several eye-witnesses as being one of terrible grandeur, and
equal to that represented in Martin's celebrated picture of the
Last Day. Shocks of earthquake continued almost incessant for
three hours, but after that the quakings somewhat subsided.

Latest intelligence from Rotorua states that at a quarter
to eight to-night, Ruawaku, one of the craters of Mount
Tarawera, was still belching forth a huge column of steam
and smoke. The whole mountain is almost completely
hidden from view by the dense clouds of smoke. One man,
who caught a momentary glimpse of the mountain, says that
it has been raised by from 200 to 300 feet. Lake Rotomahana
has become less, and is now one mass of boiling water.
Nobody has yet been able to penetrate as far as the famous
Pink Terraces. It is a matter of dispute as to what state they
are now in. An attempt will be made to examine the
neighbourhood of the terraces to-morrow.

Sydney Daily Telegraph.

Tuesday, June 22nd, 1886.

June 12. — We left Tauranga at half-past six, the wind sharp
and bracing and the ground covered with hoar frost and the
pools with ice. All over the surface of the land, as far as the
eye could reach, lay a coating of volcanic dust, which was
stirred up into clouds by every puff of wind. As we ascended
the hill towards Oropi bush this coating became thinner,
diminishing from an even deposit of about a quarter of an
inch to the bare covering of the ground. Vegetation
everywhere is coated with this earthy matter, although it is
not so deep as to prevent the cattle from obtaining food.

308 Appendix.

The atmosphere was perfectly clear and the sun unobscured.
The few settlers spoken to on the road all referred to the
alarm caused by the untoward event of the previous day, but
it was generally taken for granted that the force of the
eruption had expended itself. Its distance and the cause of
the dusteloud being understood, there was no further
uneasiness, except for the fate of those near the centre of the
eruption. The coating of dust steadily diminished as we
neared Ohinemutu itself. On emerging from the bush at the
top of the hill overlooking Lake Rotorua, a magnificent and
at the same time saddening spectacle was disclosed. A
dense bank of steam of snowy whiteness extended for miles
and rose above the range of hills on the shore of Rotorua,
opposite Ohinemutu. This bank of vapour drifted slowly to
the northward and merged into another dusteloud, which
appeared to be created by the play of the wind upon the
thick deposits of dust which covered the hills and forests in
that direction, In the direction where Tarawera was known
to be, the bank of steam was solid and unbroken for miles,
and rose to a height of several thousand feet further to the
right. Over the road leading to Kotomahana was another
vast column ; over that lake the setting sun lit up these
cloudbanks with a flush of pink, covering with a glory the
ramparts of desolation below. Taking within this view the
whole line of hills from Taheke to Ohinemutu — that is to say,
the whole of the north shore of Rotorua — everything wore
the grey-drab tint of the volcanic debris. At Ohinemutu
itself the steam-jets appeared rather less active than otherwise,
although numbers of new springs have broken out and the
water of Lake Rotorua has risen a foot.

At the Ngae the shower was heavier, the dust falling to a
depth of nine inches. The stories of mud and stones being
deposited to a depth of several feet at this place are thus
disproved. The dust covered up all vegetation, leaving cattle
absolutely without food ; some have already died at the Ngae ;
others are being fed on hay. The block of land at Taheke,
which was valued on Tuesday at iu. an acre, is now
declared almost worthless, owing to this thick deposit of dust.
Beyond Taheke, in the direction of Tauranga, the lightning
felled several trees, which produced bush fires, and falling
timber has obstructed the coach-road. There was, for-
tunately, no loss of life in any of these directions.

The pretty little Tikitapu bush, such a favourite with tourists,
is completely destroyed; the whole forest is covered with
three feet of volcanic dust. Trees 170 feet high are lying flat,
torn up by the convulsion and the high wind, and their roots,
as they were torn from the earth, lying in many cases ten feet

Appendix. 309

high. All undergrowth is swept away or torn down with the
weight of the debris, and not a leaf is to be seen, and the
foliage of the big trees is destroyed. On reaching the
Tikitapu Lake, we find that it is the " Blue Lake " no longer ;
the colour of the water is changed to a dirty brown. Following
the road, the sidings are filled up with drift deposits to half
the width of the road. Rising the hill we come in view of
Rotokakihi. What was once the green lake is now dirty
water, and the heaviness of the shower may be gauged by a
ditch of two feet, and a bank four feet, the top of which only
is visible.

The residents at Rotorua described the noises heard as
similiar to those experienced at Tauranga — rumblings and
tremors — but nothing resembling the cannonading heard in
Auckland. The latter noise probably arose from the
discharges in the upper atmosphere, and was deadened to
those nearer the scene by the rumblings and vibrations in
the lower atmosphere.

At Ohinemutu, the first signs of disturbance were felt at
one o'clock in the shape of rumbling noises, which were taken
for earthquakes. These continued without intermission. On
looking out, a dense black cloud was seen in the direction of
Tarawera, but it appeared as if it was hanging over Ohine-
mutu itself. In this cloud occurred wonderful electric
phenomena, like the most brilliant lightning, but terrible
beyond description. Finally the whole population rushed
from their houses, terror-stricken, and ran down the street,
moved apparently by the impulse to get away from the black
canopy which swelled as if it were about to seal up the history
of the village and involve all its inhabitants in a common
grave. Some declared that the Day of Judgment had come,
and the feeling experienced was such as we may suppose
would be felt by the inhabitants of the earth on that day.
None of these to whom I have spoken wish to repeat the
experience of that terrible night.

The discoveries made by the expedition to Rotomahana
and its south sides enable us for the first time to construct
a connected account of the eruption and the extent and
character of its influence. As to the phenomena, as con-
nected with the first outbreak, there is naturally some dis-
crepancy in statements, owing to the excitement under which
observations were made, but a careful comparison of the
descriptions given by the most competent and careful obser-
vers, shows that the first outbreak undoubtedly began in the
peak of Tarawera mountain, known as Ruawhia. Not
improbably some shifting of the earth crust beneath the
mountain or a change within it, producing the generation of

310 Appendix.

great heat, caused the prolonged earthquake and rumblings
which were heard between one and two o'clock in the morning,
forming the first of the series of phenomena which attended
the eruption. Soon after two o'clock Ruawhia was observed
to be in flames. Above it hung a canopy of black smoke,
producing on the mountain the appearance of a large
mushroom, and lightning played with such brilliancy around
the peak that the glare from the volcanic fires was hardly
distinguishable. There is no doubt, however, that the moun-
tain did emit flames, attended with a belching forth of red-
hot stones, which could be distinctly seen as they were
ejected into the air and rolled down the mountain sides.
This continued for about an hour before the vomiting of the
great mud cloud out of Lake Rotomahana, which fell so
disastrously on the village of Wairoa. This cloud was
observed by those watching the eruption of Tarawera to
come up some miles south of the great mountain, and its
apparent location gave rise to the belief, now proved erro-
neous, that Mount Kakaramea and the adjacent Lake Okara
were in eruption.

The loss from the destruction of the terraces, as we cannot
but fear they are gone, is simply incalculable. A marvel
which was without parallel on the earth has been swept
away ; and even if ever replaced by the same agencies work-
ing in the silicious strata, and this is improbable, a long
geological period would be necessary for their reproduction.
The eruptions now in progress are attended by frequent
earthquakes. Three were felt while we were in camp and
two during the four hours spent on the dusthills around
Rotomahana. One was of such violence that the swaying
of the hill we were standing on was visible to the eye. If
these craters keep in action they will form as great an attrac-
tion to tourists as the terraces, but when an escape has been
found for the forces recently set into motion, they may
subside into quiescence or become intermittent. The
Rotorua district, however, must always be a very wonderful
one, which tourists through New Zealand will never willingly
leave out of their routes. As an attraction now, the district
offers novelties which surpass everything here before. It
furnishes the extraordinary example of how geological
changes in the earth's strata are sometimes effected in the
course of a few hours. The half-buried houses and whares
at Wairoa are perfectly unique, and the village ought to be
left standing just as it is, except so far as excavations are
necessary to recover bodies or property. Rotomahana, as
an exhibition of nature's forces, is infinitely more marvellous
than ever it was before. To see this large basin torn and

Appendix. 3 1 1

lashed with a fury that baffles description— roaring, can-
nonading, screeching, driving into the air at one spot
columns of steam such as might be generated in the boilers
of a leviathian steamship, and from another orifice in the
same crater send out black volumes of smoke and showers
of stones, is a spectacle that can only lose in magnificence
by any attempt to convey an expression of it in words. I
feel that 1 dare not attempt to do it justice. Fortunately,
from the configuration of the ground a full view may be
obtained of a most extensive area of country.

With regard to the volcanic eruption, Dr. Hector believes
that the earthquake shocks caused by the outbreak of Tara-
wera mountain, ruptured the steam-pipes in the Rotomahana
geysers and let in the water of the lake upon the subterranean
heat, resulting in the generation of enormous quantities of
steam and the ejectment of the mud at the bottom of the
lake. He doubts, however, whether the eruption has been
of a character which produces the formation of lava. He
thinks rather that the outburst on Tarawera was caused by
the rupture of the sealed cap which was previously impervious
to steam. The stones resembling scoria were, he thinks,
formed by heat produced in steam and not through liquefaction
of the rock by intense heat. From a number of specimens I
had collected on the scoria hills at the back of Rotomahana,
he selected one which, from its characteristics, gave indica-
tions of lava. The rest were mostly pieces of terrace
formation and a small piece of obsidian. As to the chance
of a further eruption, Dr. Hector hesitates to pronounce any
decided opinion. He believes, however, that the chief danger
at present is from the mud. He says the danger from the
shifting of recent deposits is well recognized.

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List of Publications. n

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13

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List of Publications. 13

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List of Publications. 19

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