1867 - von Hochstetter, Ferdinand. New Zealand - CHAPTER XIV: On the lower Waikato; from Auckland to Taupiri

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CHAPTER XIV.

On the lower Waikato; from Auckland to Taupiri.

The journey through the interior of the North Island, which I will describe in the following chapters according to the contents of my diary, is but a small one, considering the distance travelled over, about 700 English miles. In European countries, where rail-roads and steam-boats are at disposal, one might travel over the same distance in a few days; but compared with the rapidity and the luxurious ease with which such a journey is performed in Europe, travelling in New Zealand is slow and laborious, and a lengthened expedition into the interior cannot be undertaken without some preparations. Roads passable for vehicles, lead to a distance of only a few miles from the towns; and passages practicable for horsemen, at least in the interior of the North Island, were not many. The horse, which to the traveller upon the extensive, open plains in the interior of Australia is totally indispensable, is by no means of the same service in New Zealand. In many districts, it would not only want the necessary feed, but the difficulties arising from the nature of the ground are also such, that the horse must soon prove to the traveller a burthen rather than a help. Almost

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daily he has to pass over mountain-torrents and steep river-banks; or through swamps and morasses. The slender paths of the natives lead over hills and mountains in steep ascent and descent, rarely in the valley, nearly always along the ridge of mountain-heights. Where they cross the bush, the clearing is just broad enough for one man to wind himself through. An eye used to European paths, will scarcely recognise those Maori-trails, and man and beast would be in continual danger upon them -- the horse, in danger of sinking into the deep holes between the roots of trees, and of breaking its legs; the rider, of being caught among the branches, or strangled among the loops of the "supple jack." Hence there is no other choice left but to travel on foot; and it requires full, unimpaired bodily strength, and sound health, to pass uninjured through the inevitable hardships of a longer pedestrian journey through the New Zealand bush, over fern-clad hills, over steep and broken headlands, through the swampy plains and cold mountain-streams of the country. Whatever the traveller needs for his individual wants, he must carry with him, and therefore must be limited to the most necessary articles. Now and then, a solitary European squatter may be met with; and more frequently still, a Mission station. On all these occasions the traveller will meet with a cordial welcome, and hospitable treatment, and transiently he will enjoy even the comforts of civilized life; but, taken as a general thing, he must resign them all; he must learn to find pleasure in living in the open air with the skies for a canopy and the earth for his table and bed. Following the example of the Maoris, he must "go back to first principles" and to the simple demands of the children of nature; and it is to this truly primitive simplicity that a journey in New Zealand owes its indesirable charms.

The woods and fields of our antipodes are but scanty hunting-grounds, which at best yield small birds and wood-pigeons. Along rivers and lakes various kinds of wild-ducks are found, and nearly all the rivers are abounding in eel and crawfish. But this is all, upon which one can calculate during the trip as occasional contributions to

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his frugal repasts. Any one, therefore, that would depend, for subsistence, merely upon hunting, or upon what little is furnished him from the vegetable world, would be exposed in the interior of New Zealand to the same danger, as those much lamented men of dauntless spirit, who lately, upon the Burke Expedition through the continent of Australia, after they had successfully attained their object, were, on their way back, doomed to die of hunger. And in fact, such cases have really happened, especially in the interior of the totally uninhabited South Island; and several expeditions endeavouring to penetrate from the East coast across the chain of the Southern Alps to the West coast have found the greatest difficulty in barely supporting life even. A sufficient supply of provisions is therefore always one of the first and most important questions for a longer journey. Upon the North Island, where there are natives living in small villages and settlements all through the interior, this is a matter of no trouble. From station to station the necessary supplies are carried along, such as are obtained from the Maori settlements, which but rarely are more than a few days' journeys apart. Pigs, especially, can be had everywhere, and upon our three months' trip we killed not less than thirty or forty heads, and wore always enjoying good health while feasting on fat, juicey roast-pig. But if the season following the gathering of crops, and beginning with February, is preferred for the journey -- which is best suited also on account of the pleasanter weather, and less inconvenience suffered from insects, as the mosquitoes generally vanish more and more by the setting in of March -- there is also no want of fruit and potatoes. By that time, even flour is to be had in some parts, and the traveller has ample chance of occasionally changing his uniform every-day-fare of pork and potatoes, and regaling himself with "dampers." 1 Eggs and milk, however, are very scarce in the Maori settlements. Money and tobacco are the current means of

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exchange, for which provisions can be bought from the natives. Whatever is required besides the provisions already mentioned, must be provided from the very first start for the whole journey. Of chief importance are salt, sugar and tea. The latter supplies must be carefully kept from becoming wet, owing to the prevailing dampness of the climate, and the frequency of heavy rains. For this purpose we had a special tin-chest made of such a size, that, when filled, it was about as much as one man could well carry (about forty pounds); we had moreover sent extra-supplies ahead to several stations on the coast which we were to pass on our journey. Tea was usually made three times a-day for the whole company, consisting sometimes of thirty persons; and I know of no other beverage, which during fatiguing foot-excursions produces so refreshing and invigorating an effect, as good, strong tea; or which at the same time is as easily prepared. Even the natives have become so much used to tea, that they generally carry a supply of it with them on their journeys. Tea, pork and potatoes, therefore, were our chief articles of food; or rather, with rare exceptions our daily bread.

For camping out we were equipped in the best manner with tents and woollen blankets. For tent we found cotton-stuffs to be the most suitable, being denser and less heavy than linen. It was cut so that it could be spread like a roof over a 1-1 shaped scaffold constructed of three poles. We carried three such tents with us. A fourth large one was intended for the natives who accompanied me; it was, however, but rarely used, the natives generally preferring to sleep under the open sky, gathered around a large fire, which they kept up during the whole night. The woollen blanket representing my bedding I had sewed up in triple folds at the feet and sides into a kind of sack, so that on one side the blanket was double, on the other single, -- an excellent invention of experienced "bush-men." By getting into this sack one is not only sheltered from troublesome mosquitoes and other insects, but has, moreover, according to the weather, the convenient choice left, to turn the double or single side upward, and thus to suit

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oneself to a cover more or less warm. In this shape, one large, woollen blanket yields the same amount of comfort, that at other times is obtained from two or three blankets; and, together with an air-cushion of caouchouc, composes an excellent travelling bed in a very compact form. A caouchouc cover, which at night was spread upon the bare ground as an underlayer for bed, and in daytime served as water-proof covering for my baggage, also rendered excellent services.

Natives are decidedly the best travelling companions. I had engaged for the whole time of the expedition twelve stout, young Maoris, who were bound by contract to remain with us through the whole of the tour. As wages, each of them received, besides board and a pair of shoes, half a crown a-day. The baggage was distributed so that each man carried about thirty to forty pounds. Owing to the difficulties of the ground we had to pass over, a man could not easily carry more upon a longer journey. Each carried his proper bundle; and likewise in camp, each one had once for all his proper work assigned to him. One assisted in putting up tents, another fetched firewood, carried water, etc Thus each of them knew after the very first few days of travel, without a special order, precisely what he had to do; and none could be idle at the expense of his fellow. With pleasure I bear testimony to these Maoris, that they always proved themselves willing and of untiring energy, preserving under all circumstances their excellent good-humour; and that their faithful services contributed in a large measure to the final success of the expedition. Their names were Awaroa, Ngakapa, Dominiko, Poroa, Te Kura, Te Kahukoti, Mehana, Paurini, Te Tawera, Timoti, Te Kanihi, and Pateriki. During the journey our company was increased by three Maoris and one European servant, so that we usually numbered twenty-two heads; which number, however, increased sometimes to twenty-five and thirty, whenever special guides and extra-carriers were necessary.

The necessary guides and bearers having thus been properly engaged, and every thing being suitably provided for the expe-

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dition, the journey itself presents no further difficulties, although its progress is, according; to European notions, rather slow. Fifteen miles with a numerous travelling-company, may be considered a fair day's work considering the miserable roads. As to safety, I really know no uncivilized country upon the earth, where one can travel so safe and secure, as in New Zealand. Robbers and thieves are as little known there, as wild beasts and venomous serpents; and as Nature herself, having produced here no poisonous plant or venomous beast, is harmless in all her creations, so also the native is harmless in his whole conduct and all his actions, unless war or revenge rouse his wild passions. One can, therefore, travel with perfect safety, and tranquilly lay down one's head to rest in the mountains or in the valleys, in woods or field, where-ever one may be, when evening or night sets in.

The only plague are mosquitoes and sandflies. The former, by the natives called Waeroa or Ngairoa, are no other than our gnats (Culex), which in swarms of thousands of millions live in the damp bush, and, at the edge of the bush, along the creeks or upon clearings, quite obscuring the air by their dense swarms; shunning, however, the sea-coast and dry fern-heaths. In summertime, from December to February, they cannot be kept off day or night; but in March they already commence being more scarce, and in winter they disappear entirely. The sandflies, on the other hand, the Ngamu of the natives, small midges (Simulium), are most frequent on the sea-coast; but they are met also all through the interior of the land, on sandy river-banks, and upon dry heaths. The very districts, which are clear of mosquitoes, are infested by the sandflies. Their sting is keener than that of the mosquitoes, but is not attended by any swelling of the part stung; and with the last ray of the sun the sandflies disappear entirely, so that at night at last one is rid of that plague. But, sometimes, certain other still more unwelcome guests intrude at night -- rats. They are found even in quite uninhabited countries, and gather after the very first night around the camp. To their running at night leisurely over his head and body, the traveller will easily

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become used; but eatables must be carefully kept out of their reach by hanging them upon poles.

Although nature, as I have already said, offers but little in the shape of food; yet it furnishes two things for the comfort of the traveller, which he does not learn to appreciate to its full extent, until, after a trip through New Zealand, he is travelling in other uncivilized countries, where he has to do without them. In the first place I mention the common fern (Pteris esculenta), which growing all over the country, can serve as an underlayer for the couch. A bed made of such ferns, provided one understands the arranging of it, 2 feels as elastic and soft, as the best spring-matress. The second is the flax-plant (Phormium tenax). It can be employed wherever leather thongs or straps would be otherwise used; it can likewise be made into wicker-baskets, girths, etc. When more than a dozen bundles have to be strapped daily, such an article of almost universal application, which is everywhere and at any moment at hand, is indeed of invaluable advantage. The excellent climate, also, and the abundance of water and wood in every part of the country, greatly facilitate travelling. One suffers neither from heat nor cold; nor are there any fever-countries to be avoided. Swamp-fevers are totally unknown, and scarcity of water, the terror of those travelling in the interior of Australia, is out of the question upon New Zealand. But rarely will the choice of a camping-place for the night cause embarrassment; the proper place can always be easily found, where wood and water are close at hand, and where the weary traveller can enjoy his repose, secure from the blood-thirsty mosquitoes. Not even tent-poles did we need to carry with us, having almost always the opportunity, of procuring such upon the places where we encamped.

Everlasting will the recollection of those scenes be to me, when, after the troubles and trials of the day we encamped at the edge of the woods by a roaring mountain-stream; when the fire

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blazed up brightly, and the natives were singing their songs; then, every thing lay hushed in repose, till, with the dawn of another day, the birds of the woods, the Kokorimoko, and the Tui merrily warbled their orison-lays. I love to look back to such scenes, to our river-excursions in the well-manned canoes of the natives, to our stay in their Pahs, and to our peregrinating through the bush in the shade of trees, which are strangers to every other part of the globe, -- I look back to them all with a pleasure, which makes me feel most sensibly, how far superior the enjoyments of nature are to all the pleasures of refined life.

On the 7th of March we were ready for travel. We set out upon the Great South Road. This road, -- now the great highway to the interior of the country, -- was at that time finished only as far as Drury, twenty-three miles from Auckland. Drury itself consisted of an inn and a church. At a greater distance there were some scattered farms. The Drury Hotel or "Young's Inn," so called after the name of the proprietor, was, so to say, the last out-post of civilization towards South. During the presence of the Novara in the harbour of Auckland, this hotel was the head-quarters of the Novara Expedition, whence excursions were made to the coalfields near Drury and to the Waikato; and a huge Austrian flag was floating from its gable. This time also it was our place of rendez-vous, and our starting point.

March 8. -- Started for the Maori settlement Mangatawhiri on the Waikato, twelve miles from Drury; thence we were to proceed in canoes up the river. The road leads from Drury in a southerly direction over the Drury flats and then ascends to a wood-clad plateau, which forms the watershed between the Manukau Harbour and the Waikato River. On the sides of small dales the last farmer settlements are met, and thence the traveller penetrates deeper and deeper into the forest. The road was just being made. The recent cuts displayed basaltic conglomerates totally decomposed into ferruginous clay. One of the

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labourers presented me with some interesting beetles, 3 which he had caught among the felled trees. Upon the last height before reaching Mangatawhiri, there is a charming prospect into the Waikato country; but the road itself from this spot was a mere clearing through the bush; the felled trees still lying promiscuously across the road; and we could not help laughing heartily at the amusing notion of a wood-cutter, who had written upon a gigantic trunk, which blocked up the whole passage, in large charcoal characters: "XXII miles from London." 4

Mangatawhiri we found almost entirely deserted. The greater part of the male population was absent on a trip up the Waikato, and our first negotiations for hiring a canoe convinced me, that the hitherto hospitable and obliging savages had become perfectly civilized individuals, calculating and bartering. A continuation of our journey was for to-day quite out of the question, and it was not until late in the evening, that Captain Hay succeeded in closing a bargain with the natives on these terms, that for a compensation of £6 they promised to furnish us by next morning a large canoe, which was to convey us up the river as far as Taupiri.

The village numbers about twenty huts with about 100 inhabitants, who are enjoying considerable wealth. They very recently had a neat flour-mill built by an Englishman, on a small stream running by the village, which cost them not less than £400. The volcanic soil of the neighbourhood is extremely fertile, and there is no scarcity of horses, cattle and pigs in these parts. Less edifying was the abominable filthiness we had to notice in the Maori-huts. A number of them were vacant; we wished to select one of these for our night-lodgings; but they all were teeming with all sorts of vermin. We determined at last to occupy one of them, after it had been well scrubbed and scoured.

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Yet, what we had to suffer all night despite the previous cleansing of that Augian stable, I will rather pass over in silence. To me it was from the very start an impressive lesson, never again to prefer a Maori-hut to my tent.

A Maori-girl at Mangatawhiri.

The women and maidens of the village had, in honour of our distinguished presence, dressed themselves to the best of their ability, and donned their choicest attire; there were some really pretty forms and faces among them. But there prevails a strange custom among those women. The sucking-pigs, vulgo farrows, are in great favour with them. They nurse and fondle them with as much tenderness, as our ladies their lap-dogs; they even grant those favourite pet-pigs the same privileges on their breasts, that are generally extended only to babies. In like manner the Indian women are said to nurse young apes.

In the vicinity of the Maori-village the township of Havelock has been laid out, which for the present consisted of only a few houses. This settlement is considered by the natives as the farthest southern boundary, to which the Pakehas are entitled to extend their possessions. "Thus far and no farther," they say. With consistent obstinacy they manage to prevent every attempt

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towards the continuing of the Great South Road; and during the Taranaki insurrection of 1861, William Thompson, the leader of the Waikato tribes, declared it even to be a case of war, which would result in the breaking out of hostilities also along the Waikato, should the Government advance its troups into the interior farther than Mangatawhiri, or continue the construction of the road under the protection of armed forces. This circumstance alone would suffice to prove the importance of this place, which can only be fully appreciated hereafter, when the Waikato river shall have been opened to European commerce.

March 9. -- Rose early; the Mangatawhiri creek offered a refreshing bath; but as customary among Maoris we had much talking before we were ready to decamp. The natives endeavoured, to extort from us a few additional gold-pieces, before they showed any inclination to convey us further. It was not until 9 o'clock, that we commenced to move on. We then proceeded along a small current of water wading a considerable distance through mud and swamp, until we came at last to the promised canoe. The canoe was an entirely new one, wrought from the trunk of a Kahikatea pine (Podocarpus dacrydioides), sixty-one feet long, four wide, three deep, and large enough to hold our whole party together with the entire bulk of baggage. First it was cleansed; then the bottom was covered with fresh ferns, and the baggage distributed with all due cautiousness as equally as possible fore and aft, to the right and left, for the benefit of securing the necessary balance to the rather unstable craft. At last every thing was in readiness, and we Pakehas were directed to take our place in the middle. But the creek was here still far too narrow and too shallow, and the load too heavy, to render the propelling of our Waka 5/ by means of the paddles, possible. We had first to be pulled through the mud. The scene was a highly amusing one,

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thanks to the good humour exhibited by the Maoris, even when they sank sometimes waist-deep into mud, and could work their way through the swamp only with the greatest difficulty. Amid singing and laughing, and amid the wildest joking, the canoe was pushed ahead. Finally after the lapse of two long hours, as the creek grew wider and deeper, we were afloat. Now, after all belonging to the expedition had been seated in the canoe, I counted not less than twenty-four of us, whom besides a heavy load of baggage and provisions, the "dug-out" 6 had to carry. In the fore-part sat the Maoris, twelve in number, each provided with a paddle, in the middle the five Pakehas. Behind us four Maori-women with two children had crowded in, who wished to meet their husbands, expecting to fall in with them upon the Waikato; and the helm was managed by Captain Drummond Hay, whom the Maoris jestingly styled a "Maori Pakeha," because he had acquired certain Maori-accomplishments to perfection, and understood especially the management of the paddle as well as any of them. Thus we paddled ahead towards the Waikato, all of good cheer, and with all those feelings of sanguine hope, which the successful start of an interesting journey is wont to call forth.

The narrow creek soon turns into a river about 100 feet wide, the Mangatawhiri river, which about four miles below empties into the Waikato. Round about nothing but moor and swamp; the water is dark-brown, and only low hills, partly covered with bush, the spurs of remoter mountain chains, interrupt the far-extending low-lands. It presents the picture of a New Zealand swamp-land scenery. The strokes of the paddle are scaring up wild ducks and water-hens; 7 they fly up or endeavour to hide themselves by diving; but the keen eye of the native espies them even among the densest reed-thicket, the sharp-pointed paddle serves him as javelin; he hits his mark with certainty and never misses; and thus one

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after the other is flung into the boat as welcome booty. A luxuriant vegetation of water and swamp-plants (especially Raupo, Typha angustifolia) borders the channel, and where the river-banks arise, there Ti-trees (Cordyline), flax-plants (Phormium) and the magnificent Toetoe-grass (Arundo) with its silken flags, mingled with violet-blooming Koromiko-bushes (Veronica), form a gayly checkered copse-wood, in the rear of which, at the foot of low hills, dusky Kahikatea-woods are spreading, -- genuine swamp-woods, for the Kahikatea pine prefers swampy soil. Where the river makes a bend towards South, the scene suddenly changes. The Maoris ply their paddles more vigorously; swift as an arrow the canoe darts over the waters, and with loud shouts of joyful welcome we greet the Waikato.

The impression made by the sight of the majestic stream is truly grand. It is only with the Danube or the Rhine, that I can compare the mighty river, which we had just entered. The Waikato 8 is the principal river of the North Island. Both as to length of its course, and quantity of water it surpasses all the others. The pieces of pumice-stone, which its waters are continually carrying along, piling them up on the banks and at its confluence with the sea, point to its origin in the vicinity of the extensive volcanic hearth in the centre of the island. Its sources spring from the very core of the land; its waters roll through the most fertile and most beautiful fields, populated by numerous and most powerful tribes of the natives, who have taken their name from it; and no second river of New Zealand has such

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an importance, as the grand thoroughfare for the interior of the country. The Waikato is in truth the main artery of the North Island, and this grand stream is wanting but one thing, i.e. an open, unobstructed entrance from the sea. While a great many other large rivers of New Zealand, as, for example, the nearest neighbours of the Waikato, the Piako and Waiho, or the Wairoa in the North, are emptying into protected bays of the sea, widening near their mouths into broad estuaries, by which the sea penetrates far into the interior of the land, and where the regular change of ebb and flow enables larger and smaller vessels to pass from the sea into the river, and from the river into the sea: there are huge sandbanks piled up in front of the mouth of the Waikato, upon which the sea breaks in foaming surges. This is a matter of great importance; for those sandbanks, which prevent the passing in and out of larger vessels, are a natural bulwark for the natives. They look upon the Waikato more than upon any other river of New Zealand, as being the river exclusively their own. Never, up to the time of my journey, had a boat of European construction been known to float upon the proud Native-stream, 9 the Mississippi of the Maoris. Two Mission stations, the one near its mouth, the other at the Taupiri, were at that time the only European settlements on the banks of the river, where the Maori-king had taken up his abode. From his residence at Ngaruawahia, where the Waipa mingles its waters with those of the Waikato, the national flag of Nuitireni was proudly floating in the breeze, and from among the bushes of the flax-plant, the toetoe-grass and the ti-trees, the Maori-huts were everywhere peeping forth, now single, now in clusters of miniature villages and surrounded by thriving plantations. Flats are alternating along the course of the river with fern-hills, or with dusky wood-clad mountain-ridges, and picturesque landscape-sceneries are developing themselves there where the river in a narrow gorge of rocks is breaking through the mountain chains. The Waikato, at the junction of the Mangatawhiri, has a breadth of about half a mile; it

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encompasses several wood-clad islands, and after having passed in an almost precise S.N. direction through extensive low-lands, -- the lower Waikato Basin, -- it makes here a sudden bend to the West. It breaks through a low coast-range, and empties twenty miles farther below on the Westcoast into the sea.

To-day it was the second time that I visited this spot. The first time on December 31. 1858, while the Novara was yet at anchor in the harbour of Auckland. On a short excursion from Drury I then passed down the river together with my travelling companions to the Maori settlement Tuakau on the right bank of the river, a distance of a few miles. There, in a Maori hut, we had celebrated the fleeting hours of the parting year in a manner, which no doubt has left an indelible impression upon the memory of each of us. At that time there resounded by turns, amid the merriment of social glee, national songs, German student songs and popular songs, English and Irish airs, and the melancholy love-ditties of the Maoris. We thought of our loved ones at home; no cherished friend was forgotten, when our glasses were ringing to repeated toasts and to the sincerest congratulations and well-wishes for the New Year. I did not dream then, that I should spend many a night yet, without those friends, in the huts of the Maoris, in the bush or upon the fern-clad hills of New Zealand; or that I should be allowed in this new year, to trace the course of the beautiful river up-stream into the very heart of the country.

After we had turned from the brownish peat-water of the Mangatawhiri into the green waves of the broad, open Waikato, we proceeded up the river. Owing to the swift current in the middle of the river, we kept close to the right bank. The water showed a temperature of 70 deg. Fahr.; but its surface presented an uncommon appearance, large masses of pumice-stone drifting upon the river, which were collecting behind transverse trunks of trees. They were scattered fragments, sometimes the size of a man's head, of a white, coarse-grained pumice-stone, 10 Pungapunga of the natives.

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It was some time, before our Maoris could be induced, to proceed up the river. The sight of the Waikato awakened too many recollections within their minds. They had a thousand different things to relate to each other. Every canoe, that hove in sight upon the river, was hailed, or hailed us. Of course, the Maoris also are curious to know, what news? -- "Whence?" and "whither?" and "who are you?" were their queries. -- One canoe came close up to us; it was full of natives, dogs and pigs; and dogs, pigs and natives, all seemed struck with amazement and awe on seeing Pakehas upon the Waikato. The news of our travelling up the river had, as I found out afterwards, run ahead of us with amazing velocity, even without mail or telegraphic communication. Enough of the busy chatting to and fro having been done at last, the paddles were again dipped in the water. Poroa, assuming the part of a Kaituki, 11 commenced to sing a boat-song strophe after strophe;

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slowly at first; then faster and faster; and the paddles kept time to the tune of the song. After a trip of two hours we landed on the left river-bank near a small settlement Tiutiu or Tutu. Our repast consisted of potatoes, bread and tea. The inhabitants of the place, quite in contrast with the usual curiosity of the Maoris, seemed to take but little notice of the arrival of so large a travelling company; and upon entering one of the huts, I met two elderly tattooed men so absorbed in their game, that they did not look until I accosted them. The game which the two old fellows were playing, was no other than our game at draughts translated into Maori style. The "men" of one party were represented by small potatoes cut in two, called Riwai; those of the other, by peach-kernels, called Pititi. Instead of the draught-board they had a piece of board, upon which not even squares were marked, and the game itself they called Teraku. They, however, most readily gave all the information required, and conducted me through the plats surrounding the huts, upon which turnips (Tonapi), melons (Hue), cucumbers (Kumokuma), maize (Kaanga), potatoes (Rapana) and peach-trees (Pititi) were thriving exceedingly well. But with special care had the Kumara-fields 12 been attended.

After three o'clock we continued our journey. The country presented little change of scenery, and nothing of special interest. Flat alluvial-tracts, partly covered with Kahikatea-forests, alternate with low rows of hills, at the most 300 to 400 feet high, presenting, where they extend to the river-banks, denudations of soft horizontal layers of sandstone and clay. At 6 o'clock in the evening we arrived at the Maori settlement Pukatea on the left bank, and here for the first time we pitched our tents for the night. The natives regaled us with dried Waikato-eel (Tuna maroke), which with them are considered quite a delicacy. Upon journeys great quantities of such eel are always carried with, as part of the provisions, in bundles of twenty to thirty. Those halfsmoked Tuna marokes, however, although I greatly relished the fresh eel, in

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which all the rivers of New Zealand are abounding, did not suit my taste.

March 10. -- During the night we had heavy thunder-showers, which, however, were after all not sufficient to penetrate our tents; whereas innumerable mosquitoes found their way into them and cruelly robbed us of sleep. Next morning the sky looked gloomy. Tattered clouds came lowering upon the landscape, and were gathering themselves into new clouds of rain, until later in the day a keen western breeze swept the murky sky, and prepared a very pleasant evening for us.

With a fat pig on board, which had been purchased at Pukatea, we continued our expedition. We kept along the left bank, passing the mouth of the Opuatia, and further on the small river island Tarahanga with the ruins of a formerly well fortified Pah. A solitary falcon had perched itself upon the tall palisades, which have remained standing at the Northend of the island, -- quite the right emblem for a fort in ruins. Thence we drew nearer and nearer to the middle portion of the lower Waikato Basin, where upon extensive plains on both sides of the river numerous smaller and larger lakes are scattered about. First of all, a few miles from the left or western bank of the river, lies Lake Wangape. 13 At the outlet of the lake into the Waikato, on the Wangape creek, there is situated a Maori settlement of the same name. We proceeded a short distance up the creek hoping to find upon a neighbouring hill a point, from which we might enjoy a prospect over the lake; but we had to return without having accomplished our object. The water of the narrow, almost stagnating creek showed a temperature of 72 deg. Fahr., the Waikato having only 70 deg. Fahr. The river here makes a considerable bend towards East, and on a second similar bend, which restores the river again to its south-northerly direction, on its right bank, lies the Pah Rangiriri, at the mouth of the outlet of Lake Waikare.

Rangiriri is the chief point in the lower Waikato Basin, being situated almost in the centre of the basin. Here we halted. But we

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found the Pah which is encompassed by a row of palisades, entirely deserted, nor was a single soul to be seen in the huts outside of the enclosure. All the inhabitants had moved into the country during the summer; they were scattered about in the smaller settlements in the vicinity, where they have their lands and fields, and are said to congregate here only on Sundays to attend church. It is not until after all the crops have been gathered, that they assemble again in the Pah for the winter. The church we found few paces to the rear of the Pah, and I was quite surprised at the sight of the neatly constructed and clean house, in which every Sunday a congregation of Maori Christians assemble together for worship, a native preaching the sermon. A few hundred paces farther, rises the Rangiriri hill, an elevation only about 100 feet above the Waikato, from which a magnificent view all around is opened of a large portion of the lower Waikato Basin.

This was to me quite a welcome point for planting my azimuth-compass and commencing magnetic bearings which, continued on my onward journey, yielded me a triangulation, forming the basis for the construction of the topographical map of the southern portion of the Province Auckland, such as is found annexed to this work. To a great distance the fertile river-valley is seen with its changes of plains and hills, of woods and fern-heaths, encompassed round-about by nearer and remoter heights, with a view, in front, of the broad surface of Lake Waikare, on the East-shore of which steep hills with numerous patches of bare ground arise, while above them, at a still greater distance, dark wood-clad ridges aro seen. In the middle of the Lake Waikare a saline mineral spring is said to rise, bubbling up sometimes to the height of three or four feet. 14 To the South, the Taupiri range with the conical Pukemore closes the horizon; and towards the South-west above the spurs of the Hakarimata range the trychyte-stock of Pirongia with its many peaks is looming up in the distance. The broad belt of the Waikato can be traced southward as far as the point,

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Waikare Creek near Rangiriri, on the Waikato

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where the river, after breaking through the Taupiri range, enters the low-lands of its lower basin. On my return from the Rangiriri hill, I found some well-executed photographs ready of the landscapes along the banks of the river, which gave me great pleasure, because after these first successful attempts I had reasons to hope, that I should not have to regret having brought with me an artist with his apparatus, the transportation of which was necessarily connected with great difficulty during the overland journey. The Maoris, on the other hand, had killed the pig and promised us a juicey roast for the evening.

At about 2 o'clock in the afternoon we started again. We met quite a number of canoes on the river, and in one of them the Maori women, who had come with us from Mangatawhiri, at last found their long-looked-for husbands again. The shipping of them was the work of a few minutes. In exchange for the women with their children we received from the other canoe four stout young men on board, and now we proceeded up the river at full speed. At sunset we put in at the West-side of the river-island Taipuri, the largest island in the Waikato, by some extremely scanty looking huts. The inhabitants very kindly brought us melons and apples as a token of welcome, helped us pitch our tents, kindle a fire, and before night had set in, we lay snug and comfortable in our camp, and the cook brought us the promised roast-pig.

March 11. -- Pouring rain delayed our departure. It was not until 11 o'clock, when the sky seemed to be clearing off, that we could proceed on our course. We were drawing nearer and nearer to the range, which closes the lower Waikato Basin towards the South. Gray fogs and rain-clouds were hanging over the mountains, and some dark blots in the gloomy picture were all that designated the narrow mountain pass, by which the river breaks through the mountains. When, after a bend of the river two of the first advance-heights have been passed, -- then the valley opens, and the wood-clad top of the Taupiri, from which the range has received its name, becomes visible.

In Auckland, already, I had heard of beds of coal appearing

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along the margain of this range, which seemed to deserve a closer examination. I, therefore, gave orders to land at Kupakupa, a small Maori settlement on the left bank, just whore the plain strikes the mountains, and soon found a guide, who conducted us to the place. The name of the locality, where the coal seam crops out, is called Papahorahora, it is situated about one mile South of Kupakupa on the slope of a ridge of hills rising in the rear of the kainga, 15 in a height of 180 feet above the river. The natural opening was formed by a rupture at the upper end of a brook-defile leading to a pond on the west side of the village. Immediately below the yellow clay which covers the declivity of the hill, a horizontal bed of brown coal has been laid bare to the depth of 15 feet. The whole seam, however, is probably still deeper by

Brown coal Formation. Clay-slate.
Section across the Taupiri range.

several feet, the sole of it being hidden from view. The locality is as favourable for mining as could be wished. The quality of the coal 16 is precisely the same as that of the Drury and Hunna coal near Auckland. Future explorations will show, that the same coal-bed continues also through the hills opposite on the right bank of the Waikato. 17 At any rate, there lies a considerable store of fuel, which will be raised as soon as European settlements have commenced to extend over the beautiful lands on the lower Wai-

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kato, and steamers to navigate the river. It is a rich treasure reserved for generations to come; lying at the very threshold of the portal which leads into the interior of the North Island.

The forced passage of the Waikato through the Taupiri range forms this portal, the scenery being remarkably picturesque and grand. The mountains rise from the lower Waikato Basin to a height of about 1000 feet above the level of the sea, and, southwards, shelve off abruptly towards the middle Waikato Basin. Rugged ridges, steep declivities and deeply cut ravines characterize the landscape on both sides of the river. The rocks, protruding from the river-bank, present a sharp-edged, variously fissured mass of silicious slate of a great geological age. The course of the river, however, is not perceptibly hemmed in by the mountains. On the right and left of the river there are still broad alluvial banks.

Kaitotehe, Mission Station of the Rev. Mr. Ashwell at the Taupiri.

After a short passage through the mountains we landed opposite the Taupiri peak close by the Mission station. The missionary's dwelling is situated on the left bank at the foot of the mountains upon fertile alluvial soil quite hidden behind trees. How cheering it was here, to see once more a European house for the first time since we had left Mangatawhiri; and how invigorating and charming was the view of the beautiful site and landscape, which here suddenly seemed to assume larger dimensions! Like a new country

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there lay spread out before us the flourishing lands of the Middle Waikato Basin. We had arrived at the first principal station of our journey, distant from Auckland about 80 miles, and pitched our tents close by the river-bank. The Rev. Mr. Ashwell happened to be absent from home; but Mrs. Ashwell very kindly offered us hospitable quarters in her house, -- which offer we accepted most gratefully, passing some days there most agreeably.