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 sands 1 ' 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 years 5 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 whares j 
 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 O ur 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, w r e 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 O ur 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 O UT 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. 13 
 
 "LJALFORD (F. M.) Floating Flies, and how to Dress them. 
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 Harland (Marian) Home Kitchen : a Collection of Practical 
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 Harley (T.) Southward Ho I to the State of Georgia. $s. 
 
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 14 Sampson Low, Mars ton, 6 Co.'s 
 
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 List of Publications. 15 
 
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 List of Publications. 1 7 
 
 Leonardo da Vinci's Literary Works. Edited by Dr. JEAN 
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 Clara Vaugrhan. By R. D. BLACKMORE.
 
 1 8 Sampson Low, Marston, & Co.'s 
 
 Low's Standard Novels continued, 
 
 Oradock Nowell. By R. D. BLACKMORE. 
 
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 The Lady Maud. By W. CLARK RUSSELL. 
 
 Little Loo. By W. CLARK RUSSELL. 
 
 The Late Mrs. Null. By FRANK R. STOCKTON. 
 
 My Wife and I. By Mrs. BEECHER STOWE. . 
 
 Foganuc People, their Loves and Lives. By Mrs. B. STOWE.
 
 List of Publications. 19 
 
 Low's Standard Novels continued. 
 
 Ben Hur : a Tale of the Christ. By LEW. WALLACE. 
 Anne. By CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON. 
 East Angels. By CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON. 
 For the Major. By CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON. 55. 
 French Heiress in her own Chateau. 
 
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 29 Sampson Low, Marston, & Co.'s 
 
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 List of Publications. 2 3 
 
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 24 Sampson Low, Mars ton, & Co.'s 
 
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