1932 - Baker, John H. A Surveyor in New Zealand, 1857-1896 - Chapter XII. GOOD-BYE TO CANTERBURY--FIRST YEARS IN WELLINGTON--TRIP TO TAUPO AND WANGANUI RIVER, p 233-263

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Chapter XII.

GOOD-BYE TO CANTERBURY--FIRST YEARS IN WELLINGTON--TRIP TO TAUPO AND WANGANUI RIVER.

1891

In January, 1891, the Australian Scientific 1891 Society held a session in the large Provincial Council Chamber at Christchurch and a reception was given at Christ's College by Sir James Hector, the eminent geologist. Various papers were read, including one by myself, afterwards published by the Australian Association for the Advancement of Science, on "Mount Cook Glacier Motion," giving particulars of the movement of the different glaciers as determined by the surveys made by Mr. Brodrick in 1889. The whole session was most interesting and very well attended.

About three months later I had a telegram informing me that I was to be transferred to Wellington to take charge of the Land Department there and I went north to see the Minister of Lands, Mr. McKenzie, who told me that I was appointed principally to put down land dummyism, which was rampant in the North Island, and that I should in due course receive the further appointment of Assistant Surveyor-General. I returned to Christchurch to prepare for my departure. There was much to be done, not only in the office but also at Chilcomb, since this promotion necessitated the break-up of our home, the letting of our house, the selling

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of our horses, cows, etc., and the removal of our furniture to Wellington.

I now held the last meeting of the Canterbury Land Board, where Mr. McMillan moved a resolution conveying the Board's appreciation of the "able, courteous and impartial manner" in which I had presided at the meetings. I also received from the officers of the Survey Department a silver tea tray with a letter expressing their sense of the good feeling that had existed between us during the many years I had held the position of Chief Surveyor and Commissioner of Crown Lands in Canterbury; and almost before I realized that I was going, I had left Christchurch and transplanted myself to Wellington, where I obtained a room at the Club, of which I had been made a member.

On the 28th of May, 1891, I took my seat as Chief Commissioner of the Wellington Land Board and the senior member, Mr. McCardle, made a little speech assuring me that every assistance would be given me by the members in carrying out the provisions of the new Land Act. I did not find it very easy to shake down into my new position, as all my previous work, including my training, had been done in the South Island, and the conditions there were in many ways different from those in the North. One of my earliest pieces of work was revising the proposed Land Act; then came the first case of land dummyism that I had before the Board. This was the Anderson case, but many others followed later. In July I made my first official trip up-country, going to Masterton, held my first land sale in the North Island, and later went to inspect the roads taken through

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the Te Werate Estate, about which there had been a dispute.

In October I obtained a month's leave of absence to bring my family and possessions to Wellington. I had previously taken the lease of a house in the Tinakori Road called "Lindfield," which had belonged to old Mrs. Riddiford, who was one of the earliest settlers in the Colony. After I reached Christchurch I took my wife down to Dunedin and we stayed with Dr. and Mrs. Hocken. Then, leaving her there, I journeyed south to Invercargill, where I stayed with my friends the Brodricks.

The morning I left Invercargill I got into the wrong train, and did not find out my mistake until it was well under way. It was not yet going very fast, so I threw out my travelling bag and following it, picked it up, ran back to the station, and arrived on the platform just as the driver had started the other train. I think I shouted to him to "be a good fellow, and stop one moment," and, being one, he slowed down and, much out of breath, I hurled my bag and myself into the first passenger carriage that came along. I was particularly anxious not to miss that train, as I wanted to get out at Edendale to visit a farm I had purchased on the Mataura River and then catch the afternoon train to Dunedin. This I was able to do, and I joined my wife and next day returned with her to Christchurch.

We were very busy for some days packing up our furniture and belongings, and then I left by steamer for Wellington and about a fortnight later my wife, daughter and servants

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arrived, and in a short time we were settled in our new house.

The reason we had not brought up our carriage horses was that now we had uprooted ourselves from the nice home we had established in Canterbury, we had practically made up our minds that sooner or later we would return to live in England, where all my wife's relations were, and, this being the case, we had determined to economise. I had no pension to look forward to, so we felt that for the next few years we ought to add as much as possible to our capital. Our coachman, McKee, came to Wellington with us to put the new garden in order and I then obtained a place for him as coachman and gardener to Mrs. Rhodes, and shortly afterwards he married our housemaid, their wedding breakfast being held in our house. Twenty-eight years later, when I and my daughter revisited New Zealand, we found them living in a charming bungalow house of their own in a beautiful position at Wadestown, with two grown up children, but he was still gardener at the house where Mrs. Rhodes had lived, though she had died many years before.

I was soon hard at work again, visiting special settlements that had been made under the new Land Act, holding land sales and Courts to hear old soldiers' land claims and ballots for special settlements, also visiting the camps of many of the surveyors to inspect and check their surveys.

Sir George and Lady Clifford were our first visitors after we had settled into our new home. They had been married only a week or two. We

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drove them out to the races, the first we had been to in Wellington.

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1892

On the 1st March, 1892, I was appointed Assistant Surveyor-General. This was really an honorary appointment and carried no special duties. More than anything else it was supposed to be a guarantee that the holder would be the next Surveyor-General.

In December of this year I had to visit Mr. Barton's country, past Cape Palliser, and I took my daughter with me on her pony, which we had not sold with the other horses. We rode over the Rimutaka Range on the old coach road and spent the night at the hotel in Featherston and then went down the east side of the Wairarapa Lake to Mr. Russell's station called "Whangamoana," where we stayed. Miss Russell was a charming old lady and welcomed us most warmly. Next day we had a nice ride up the Turanganui Valley. That evening Mr. Barton joined us and the following day we rode round Palliser Bay to Mr. Pharazyn's station and then round Cape Palliser to White Rock, Mr. Barton's own station, where we remained for two nights. This station was far from the

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beaten track and few visitors ever came there. No woman lived on the place and the animals were quite frightened of a person in petticoats. When the dog saw Noeline he sat and howled, and the cat bolted under one of the bunks in the hut and could not be tempted out by the choicest morsels. The next day we rode up the White Rock River with Mr. Barton to see his country, and the following day went on to Stony creek, Mr. Charles Pharazyn's property, where we stayed. Then we rode up to the top of the Makara Hill and across country past Martinborough back to Featherston. This was a very long ride for a girl on a pony and it was then said that no woman had ever done it before. The next day we returned to Wellington by railway over the Rimutakas and soon after spent our second Christmas in Wellington.

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1893

Early in the year I took my daughter and Miss Burnett by train to Paremata to visit Mana Island, lying just outside the Porirua harbour. Our boatman's name was Villa and he was an Italian fisherman who had come out to the Colony some years previously. His wife had just died and he was living with his family of dark-eyed swarthy children in a little house on the beach. Later he went back to Italy to marry a girl from his own country and they returned to New Zealand in the Wairarapa, which was wrecked somewhere near Auckland. Most of the passengers were drowned, but Villa managed to swim ashore with his young wife and returned to his occupation of fisherman.

In May I took my wife and daughter on a visit to my brother's home in Napier. He had been for some years Chief Surveyor of Hawkes Bay, but by this time he had resigned from the Government Service and had set up a business of his own as land agent. He had a most charming house and garden on the hill behind the town with a beautiful view of the sea. The garden sloped towards the north and was warm, sunny and sheltered and many things grew there which would not grow further south--

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not, at any rate, in wind-swept Wellington. My brother and I went by steamer to Wairoa, where I had never been before, as it was outside my Provincial District. After our arrival we rode to Mr. Griffiths' homestead and had three days' fine duck shooting and then, returning to Napier, went to Te Aute and had a few days' quail shooting there. I forget whose place it was, but these few days' shooting were the best I had had since we left Canterbury.

I then returned to my routine office work and continued it without any special break till the end of the year.

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1894

In January I had to attend a land sale at Hunterville and visit some of the surveyors' camps in the northern part of the Wellington district, and as my daughter was then having

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her summer holidays, I took her with me. Besides visiting the camps I intended to go to Lake Taupo and come down the Wanganui River in a canoe from Taumarunui to Pipiriki and I knew this would be a great pleasure to her and that she could manage the long rides that the expedition entailed.

The day after the sale we set out on our horses for Ohingaiti, passing some pretty pieces of bush on the way.

We slept the night at Ohingaiti and, leaving there after an early breakfast, expected to reach Ruanui, Mr. Joe Studholme's homestead on the Turakina River, by tea time. We soon came to an immense cutting being made for the railway which was to be brought past Ohingaiti and in the distant future taken on to Auckland, and we spent some time watching the clever way the horses were trained to carry away the trucks of earth as they were filled. Further along the road we passed at intervals clumps of tents or huts belonging to the railway men, for they were working at the tunnels and deep cuttings for many miles. Just when we seemed furthest from human beings, buried in the deep stillness of a New Zealand forest, suddenly we would come upon a group of tents or houses, some even with gardens round them. The bush in this part was very magnificent, the great pines standing out above the lesser trees, and every now and then we caught glimpses of blue hills in the distance. At lunch time we stopped at a place where there was a small settlement of road men and one of them asked us into his hut and his wife made us tea and talked to us of her great ambition, which was to have an accommodation

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house. She was a neat little woman and seemed to take an immense pride in keeping the little place, half tent, half hut, in which they lived as tidy as it is possible to keep such a place. About a mile or so beyond this we turned off from the road and took a bush track. Sometimes this led across a hill-side and we looked down into a deep, dark gully below; sometimes it wound along the flat among the stately old trees, and every now and then it would widen out into a long green avenue covered with tall cocksfoot grass where we could see a little peep of blue sky above our heads and perhaps catch a glimpse of a kaka, of which there were many screeching in the tops of the trees. By and by we came to a clearing where there was a hut and there I hoped to find someone who would show us the way, since the rest of the road was unknown to me. However, the hut was empty and we plunged once more into the bush and after half an hour emerged into a valley covered with flax. The track wound in and out of this and then suddenly seemed to disperse in all directions. We wandered about for some time trying to find our way over a small gully and at last I saw a track going up the hill on our right and determined to try that, hoping that from the top I might see Adamson's station, which was the next station to Ruanui, and was, I felt sure, situated somewhere in that valley. Alas, no station was visible and we followed the track on and on till we came to two small lakes lying in little hollows at the very summit of the hills, surrounded by low bush and looking very grey and still, with wild duck floating on their surfaces. By this time the sun had quite dis-

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appeared and darkness was coming on apace, in fact in places it was difficult to see our way, and I knew there was no chance of reaching Ruanui that night and that there was nothing for it but to camp down without food or blankets and make the best of a bad job. This was a new experience for my daughter, though it had happened to me once before. We gathered fern to lie on and used our saddles as pillows, but the fern was rather wet and the night was damp and chilly and we did not have a very comfortable time as we lay by the side of the lake, listening to the mysterious night sounds of the bush and the occasional plaintive cry of a water-fowl. As soon as it was daylight we saddled our horses and followed the track over the hills, and at about six o'clock saw in front of us a big cluster of station buildings, woolsheds, huts, sheep-pens, etc. Our hearts rose; here at last was Ruanui. We rode up to the men's hut and asked which was Mr. Studholme's house. The man we were speaking to looked surprised and said, "Oh, that's a long way from here! You must take the track over the hill," pointing to the one by which we had come, "past two small lakes, till you come to a valley covered with flax. Go along that and you will reach Adamson's station and there you had better ask the way again." We turned sadly back and retraced our steps, and it was not till much later that I realized how idiotic it was not to have asked for breakfast. I think the shock of finding how far we had wandered from our road put all other thoughts from my mind. We did not reach Ruanui till 11 o'clock, but a hot breakfast, or rather lunch, was soon ready and we rested for the remainder of the day.

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The following day I rode with Mr. Studholme over his run and was much struck by the splendid piece of country he had secured and the beautiful views of Mt. Ruapehu to be seen from it. Noeline was still very done up and had developed a heavy cold, so she stayed behind and sat sketching in the sun and dosing herself with various remedies that our host had provided. I got up at 5 next morning, rode to the camp of Mr. Maitland, one of my surveyors, and inspected the work on which he was engaged and then, returning to Ruanui, picked up my daughter and rode with her to Moawhango and on to Mr. Birch's station, which was called "Erewhon," after the book written by my friend Butler. Mr. and Mrs. Birch were extraordinarily kind and friendly and, as Noeline was still very tired and her cold rather bad, they insisted on our remaining with them for nearly a week; this in spite of the fact that they had a cadet in the house seriously ill with typhoid fever, who naturally required a great deal of nursing and attention. When we were thoroughly rested we rode back to Moawhango, stayed the night at the Batleys', and next morning drove in his coach half way across the dreary plains, our horses trotting behind. The arid desolation of these plains, which in places are practically a desert where no vegetation will grow, gives added value to the splendour of the range of mountains behind them. This range consists of the three volcanoes, Tongariro, Ngauruhoe and Ruapehu, of which Tongariro has a crater that still emits steam, Ngauruhoe is always smoking, and the crater at the summit of Ruapehu, though surrounded by everlasting

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snow, is filled by a lake that at times boils furiously. As we approached these mountains, their beauty seemed to grow on us and my daughter, who never before had been really near to great mountains, was absolutely spellbound by them.

After lunch we mounted our horses and rode on to Tokaanu, which we did not reach till 7 p.m., very tired by our long dusty journey, and in the evening I much enjoyed a bath in one of the hot springs that lie hidden among the manuka scrub which surrounds the little town. It then consisted of a few wooden huts, mostly inhabited by Maoris, a very primitive hotel, and I think one general store. It is charmingly situated on the south shore of Lake Taupo; behind it rises a range of wooded hills and the strip of flat ground between them and the water's edge is covered with giant manuka shrubs almost as big as trees. Amongst these are wonderful hot pools, whose margins are a dazzling white, the shallow water at the edge the colour of aquamarine and the deep water in the centre the most brilliant blue that it is possible to imagine, and when the manuka is in flower the effect is that of an enchanted garden. There were no bathing houses, so one undressed behind the trees and then ran across the short grass and slipped into a bath as hot as one could bear.

At this time leprosy still existed amongst the Maoris and I remember seeing one young man who was living in an isolated hut. He was a nice looking boy, but he passed us with his hand behind his back so that we might not notice the ravages of the disease.

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Next morning we set out by boat and spent the whole day crossing Lake Taupo, and as we sailed we obtained the most glorious views of that magnificent group of mountains, Ruapehu, Ngauruhoe and Tongariro, the effects changing as the distance increased and the day advanced from morning to midday and from midday to afternoon. When we reached the village of Taupo at the north end of the lake we drove to Ross's Hotel about a mile and a half from the township. There we stayed the night and late in the evening, before going to bed, had the most delightful hot baths in the little valley behind the hotel, where there are a series of tiny hot lakes and mineral springs.

The following day we drove first to the Huka Falls on the Waikato River, a splendid and thrilling sight. For some distance above the fall the river runs through a narrow chasm between cliffs and the water, which is a very dark blue, swirls and races at an appalling pace till it is churned into white foam and finally rushes in enormous volume over the precipice into the wide pool below. There it gradually becomes less white and as it flows away in the distance it turns again to the same dark blue.

We then drove to Wairakei, where we arrived at about 11, and went at once with a party to see the uncanny miracles of nature in that wonderful valley, through which flows a boiling hot stream. We came first to the Round Pool to hear the Sledge Hammer. There is nothing to be seen at this spot except numerous jets of steam rising from the edge of the creek, but one hears below the surface a great thud, thud, thud, and the earth trembles as if some giant were

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trying to make his way out but could not. We next went to the Petrifying Geyser, that covers everything on which it falls with a lovely pinky-red incrustation like coral, so that even a dead leaf or a twig dropped near it becomes in a month or two an object of exquisite and sparkling beauty; and from there we visited many geysers and pools and finally reached the Great and Little Wairakei Geysers with beautiful incrustations round their craters, the former sending forth at times tons of water and occasionally throwing it to a height of 40 feet. Near it is the Champagne Pool, a vast boiling cauldron, the surface of which sparkles with bubbles of gas and then suddenly seems to gather itself up into a gigantic mound of water six feet high, while dense clouds of steam surge against the black rock wall behind and rise to the bank of almost tropical ferns with which it is crowned. This was the last and most impressive thing that we saw in a fairyland of wonders that took us three hours to traverse.

After lunch at Mrs. Graham's comfortable hostel, we drove back to Taupo and on to Joshua's Spa, where there was a hotel, now a sanatorium, delightfully placed in a little glen through which runs a pretty stream. Since we were leaving early the next morning we went that afternoon to see the local marvels, the most remarkable of which is the Crow's Nest. This is a mound about 8 feet high out of which an eruptive geyser plays at uncertain intervals of about half an hour, when it spouts into the air a column of water varying from 8 to 80 feet, accompanied by a cloud of steam, plays for some ten minutes and then subsides. We had

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to wait a quarter of an hour for a display and when it was over we went down to look into the cavity, but immediately the water began to boil again and we had to scamper to get out of the way. We had, of course, approached it on the windward side and luckily for us it was only a miniature eruption, but the guide told us that the geyser hardly ever made a double spout like this and he had only seen it do so once or twice before. We also saw the Witches' Cauldron, an immense spring of boiling water in a dark cavern, and, passing the Porridge Pots of simmering, bubbling clay, reached, after a ten minute walk, a spot where we could listen to the Paddle Wheel. Through a large hole in the ground, from which steam is always rising, we heard deep down in the earth thump, thump, like the sound of the wheel of a paddle steamer beating the water and apparently going on for ever and ever.

We then went back to the hotel and had an excellent meal, our long day's sightseeing having made us extremely hungry. Later in the evening Noeline told me that the landlord's daughter had taken her to the big bath house and that they had had a bathe there. "It was heavenly!" she said. "You must try it." So in the warm darkness of a summer's night I wandered down through the garden to a tepid open-air bath, and after swimming about there for a time, passed under a bridge into a great dimly lit shed covering a tank 150 feet long. The water there was just about as hot as I could stand and I swam up and down and floated in it for twenty minutes or more and then, going over the bridge, plunged into a perfectly cold

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pool. It was extraordinarily exhilarating and one felt as fresh as a kitten after it.

Mr. Ross called for us at 6.30 the next morning and drove us about 13 miles towards Rotorua and from that point we rode 8 miles to Orakei Korako, where a mighty geyser had lately come into activity. It only played every four or five hours, flinging up boiling water 80 to 100 feet into the air. This lasted for an hour and a half at a time and then it spouted steam alone for another hour and a half. Unfortunately, when we arrived it had been playing for some time and we merely saw it blowing off steam, but even that was perfectly wonderful. It roared and hissed in the most alarming manner and we stood watching it absolutely fascinated. Then to escape from a shower of rain we took shelter in a Maori whare and ate the lunch we had brought with us. The geyser had now ceased to play and we approached to inspect it more closely. There was nothing but a big hole in the rock, but we shuddered to think of the force below it. The whole country around and on the other side of the Waikato, which is close to this geyser, is all smoking and steaming. I could not count the number of large and small vent holes actively at work. The reader must remember, of course, that I am writing of what I saw 30 years ago, and in any of the places I have described alterations must have taken place. We rode back to the buggy and reached Lake Taupo by seven in the evening and as Dan, the skipper of the steam launch, had stated that he would not wait for us beyond that hour, we went straight on board and started immediately for Tokaanu. We had tea in a

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sort of cabin in which there was just room to sit up, and as we were very tired with our strenuous day we then lay down on some sacks among the cargo and were soon fast asleep. We arrived at our destination about midnight and when we reached the hotel and had eaten some supper my daughter retired to bed, but the skipper and I went off and had a bathe by moonlight in one of the hot pools, and most delicious it was.

I had now to visit the camp of one of my surveyors, situated on the Waimarino Plains, and from there I intended to ride to Taumarunui and go down the Wanganui River in a Maori canoe as far as Pipiriki, a distance of about 80 miles. It was therefore necessary to collect camping equipment, hire a couple more horses and get a packman to bring them back to Tokaanu when we had finished with them. The next day was wet, so we did not set out till eleven o'clock the following morning. We were quite a little cavalcade, consisting of my daughter, myself, our horses, the two pack-horses laden with tent, blankets, cooking utensils and food for ourselves and the beasts, and the packman, a Swede, who was a strange, dried-up, diminutive person, extraordinarily silent. The way lay past Roto Aira, a small and pretty lake, and then close under Mt. Tongariro and Ngauruhoe towards Mt. Ruapehu, but the country seemed bleak and desolate, and as rain soon began to fall in heavy showers the impression of dreariness increased. We passed a native settlement near which we had our lunch and later crossed the Wanganui River, there only a small stream almost at its source. A

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little further on we rode over the Mangatipopo, a much larger stream with a very rough ford, and after going up it a mile or two through a flax-covered swamp, we came to an empty shepherd's hut where we camped for the night. This hut had a sinister reputation and was supposed to be haunted. Behind it was an impenetrable forest, on two sides an impassable swamp, and the only way of reaching it was by the winding pathway through the flax by which we had come. One snowy winter night a party of shepherds was sheltering there. They were dozing round a log fire when something caused them to look up and they saw at the window a terrible white face. For some moments they were paralysed, and then, rushing out, they searched round the cottage. By this time it had ceased snowing and was a perfectly still moonlight night, but nowhere along the only possible way of approach was there any imprint of human footsteps. Some months after this a Maori boy was discovered lying dead in the hut. He had not a single mark of violence on his body or visible sign of disease, and from the expression of abject terror on his face it was concluded that he had died of fear. I do not vouch for the truth of this story, or even guarantee that I have repeated it correctly. Thirty years play strange tricks with one's memory, but I believe I have told it just as it was told to me.

Next morning we passed through some patches of bush and reached the open Waimarino Plains, then uninhabited except by a few Maoris. We came to a native pa and, getting off our horses, exchanged greetings with

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Pehi, the Chief. We both talked amicably, but as neither understood what the other said, we could not get very far and were soon reduced to standing and smiling at each other. He and the other natives were evidently much interested in my daughter and her cream coloured pony. I do not suppose they could have seen many white women before. We tried to get from them directions as to the whereabouts of Mr. Seaton's camp, but only managed to gather that it was a long way off in the bush, so after riding across the grass covered flat for a few miles we plunged into the bush again. Luckily, we soon met some of Mr. Seaton's men and one of them turned back with us. He said the track was difficult and dangerous, as in some places it was cut out of the papa cliffs and was not more than two or three feet wide. On coming to one of these cuttings leading down into the Makatote River the man dismounted. My daughter, who was following him, turned round to see if I was going to dismount, but finding that I was going straight on, she remained on her pony. I did not get off because I knew that we had many dangerous places to face before we reached the end of the journey and I wanted to try her nerve. It was certainly a nasty bit of road and if I had known how bad I should have made her get off and lead her pony. In some parts the cutting had slipped away and the track was so narrow that there was just room for the horses' feet and no more; the swags on their backs grazed the cliff and on the other side there was a sheer drop to the river-bed a hundred feet below. However, much to my relief, we got down quite safely and when

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we arrived at the bottom the man said naively and apologetically, "We always walk down this cutting." Still, I was not sorry to have made the experiment, as it satisfied me that my daughter's nerve was as good as my own. We went on a few miles and came to Mr. Seaton's camp situated in a magnificent piece of bush in the Manganui-a-te-Ao Valley. There we spent the afternoon and night and next morning, having finished my business, we set out early, returning by the same track. I need not say that this time we all dismounted at the papa cliff cutting.

After gaining the Waimarino Plains we rode over them to the forest beyond, through which we had to travel to Taumarunui, but before we had crossed the open country a fine drizzling rain came on, so we only went a few miles into the main bush and camped at the turning off of the new road into the Retaruke Valley. Fortunately the rain held off for an hour and we got a fairly dry camp. Here we were joined by Mr. Dalzell, another of my surveyors, who was working in this district and had come to talk business with me, and by a half-caste Maori from Mr. Seaton's camp, who was going with us to Taumarunui to act as interpreter and to take our riding horses back to Ohakune. The camp was pitched in the middle of the most wonderful stretch of bush I have ever seen. The pine trees were enormous, soaring up hundreds of feet into the air, and the wealth of undergrowth was tropical in its magnificence. Ferns of every description covered the ground, from the most delicate and feathery to gigantic tree ferns, while the trunks and branches of the

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trees were smothered in mosses, ferns (including the rare kidney fern), creepers and parasites of all kinds. In front of our tent we made a huge log fire, round which we sat, and at night the leaping flames lit up the surrounding forest, the great furry trunks and branches and the hanging ropes of the creepers, and formed an enchanted scene strange and eerie in the extreme. I do not remember if Mr. Dalzell spent the night with us. If so, it must have been a very tight pack for five people in the small tent across which we could just manage to lie at full length. My daughter slept at the end, I came next, then the half-caste, and the packman slept on the outside near the fire--if he did sleep at all. Whenever I awoke he was piling on more logs or crouching on his heels in front of the blaze, looking like a Japanese figure carved of wood, while the half-caste's huge white pig-hunting dog crouched on the other side.

We broke camp early, but it was only a rough track we had to follow, and we were much delayed by fallen trees past which we had to scramble. One of them had fallen across a siding, and as it took us nearly three hours to cut a new way round it, this entailed a second night in the forest. A mob of Maoris passed our camp next morning on a pig hunting expedition. They stopped to chat, and laughingly christened the Swedish packman "Ruapehu" (the snowy mountain) because he looked so cold. This was a curious illustration of the quick observation and sense of humour of the Maori. In an instant they had noticed the chilling reserve and curious lifeless appearance

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of this silent Northerner, and applied to him the name of the coldest thing they knew. We emerged from the bush shortly before ten o'clock, and after crossing the Wanganui, where my daughter's pony nearly came down, we reached Taumarunui and camped in the Government hut. In the afternoon, with the half-caste as interpreter, I went up the river to the Maori kainga to arrange with them about getting a canoe, but the Maoris cannot be hurried, and nothing was settled that day. I continued the negotiations all next morning, and at last concluded a bargain with a native called Hakiaka Tawhaio to take us down to Pipiriki for £15. After stowing our tent and camping equipment in the canoe, which was the hollowed out trunk of a tree, the packman set out on the return journey to Tokaanu, and the half-caste took our riding horses, which he was to lead to Ohakune, there to await our arrival. At two o'clock in the afternoon our long thin barque slid out into the stream, and at first I thought I had been "done" by the natives, since only Tawhaio and his wife appeared in the canoe, but it was all right, as they both turned out to be splendid canoeists. She took her baby and a small child with her. After going down the river a few miles we passed a place which had once been a missionary station, where there was an old peach grove. The fruit was just ripe and we took as much as we wanted. Here we saw our first rapid, called the Papawa, but as there was not much water in the river the Maori made us get out and scramble along the bank while he and his wife steered the canoe through the rushing shallow torrent into the deep

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channel again. At another place we went between a big rock and steep cliffs, and had to shoot over a small waterfall. Then going on for an hour or so, we came to a sandy beach where we camped, and, having pitched our tent, gathered fern to make our beds and rolled ourselves up in our blankets, we spent quite a comfortable night.

We started fairly early in the morning, and some time later caught sight of the Maori kainga or village, called Whakahoro, situated on a high terrace on the right-hand side of the river, and, understanding from our canoeists that they would like to see the natives there, we put into the bank and landed. It was drizzling a little, so I told Noeline to remain in the canoe while I climbed with the natives up the steep path that led to the village. When close to the palisade by which the kainga was surrounded, the Maori's wife gave a shrill cry, and out from the whares came numbers of women who rubbed noses with the Tawhaios, and then began to weep bitterly, sitting in a circle on the ground, swaying and sobbing, the tears streaming down their faces. We stood there looking on till a man, who was standing at the door of the largest whare, or meeting house, beckoned to me and Tawhaio to come in, which we did, leaving the women still crying outside. Inside there were several natives, who welcomed us warmly, and I thought it all so interesting that I sent Tawhaio back to the canoe to fetch my daughter. The Maoris, finding that I could not speak their language, called a Pakeha, or white Maori, to act as interpreter. He was an English boy who had run away from

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his parents' home in Wanganui and was living with the natives. By this time Noeline had arrived and my Maori was talking with the others, and they were all laughing. I asked the boy what the joke was. "You are the joke," he replied. "Do you know what you did!" "No," I said. "What did I do?" "Why, you told the half-caste before leaving Taumarunui to tell the Maori that if the canoe upset he was to save the girl. If you had said he was to save you, the Rangatira, they would have thought that all right, but to tell him to save a wretched girl is one of the biggest jokes they have ever heard." I also asked the boy why the women were weeping. I thought perhaps they were mourning for some lost relative. "Oh, no!" he said. "It is not that; it is only because it is so long since they met." The natives do not often go up or down the river, for though it is easy to paddle down and through the rapids, it takes many days to go up again, and in places the canoes have to be towed.

It was now midday, and food was brought--boiled potatoes and pork, in large flat dishes. We all sat round on the mud floor and helped ourselves, and ate with our fingers, plates, knives, and forks not being in general use in this rather out of the way part. The natives would take out a piece of pork, chew a bit of it, and then throw the rest back into the dish for someone else to finish. I need not say that we finished our original helpings and did not accept a second, especially as one of the Maoris who had now joined the group was a terrible diseased creature. Whether he had leprosy or some other awful scourge I do not know, but

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half his face was eaten away. Among the men in the whare was one fine looking fellow who, as a boy, had been adopted by Hochstetter, the German scientist, had been taken to Europe, and educated at a German University. After some years, unable to bear civilization any longer, he had returned to his tribe, and there he was, sitting on the mud floor wrapped in a blanket, perfectly contented with his lot. It was a rare thing in those days to meet a Maori of the lower classes who could stand civilization for any length of time. For years they might live like white men, and then the day would come when they would suddenly throw off their English habits and go back to their native ways. The rangatiras, or chiefs, could and did become completely civilized, living in well-appointed houses, and acquiring a very considerable degree of education and refinement.

Lunch over, we said good-bye to our hospitable entertainers and set off again, taking with us another woman who wanted to go to a Maori village lower down the river. She was a help, as she paddled well. It was a delicious warm afternoon, and we traversed a most splendid bit of the river where for a quarter of a mile it runs through a very narrow gut, only a little over a hundred feet wide, with steep papa cliffs on either side. This was the only place that our Maori woman really feared, and I noticed that before we entered it she put her baby into the sling that the women always use for carrying their babies on their backs, and placed the other child by her until we were through the race. The danger was that the canoe might hit on a sunken snag when the rapid current would

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swing it broadway on across the stream, and very likely upset it.

The scenery on the river is superb, graceful tree ferns and ferns of all kinds clothing the banks on either side. We thoroughly enjoyed shooting the rapids and going through the whirlpools, and though it was exciting we were not afraid, for the Maoris' management of the canoe showed how expert they were at the work.

About four o'clock a perfect deluge of rain came down, and we were obliged to pitch camp before the ground became too sodden. Unfortunately, at that spot there was very little firewood available, and the fern that we collected for our beds was already decidedly moist, so in spite of ground-sheets we were rather chilly and uncomfortable. Still, one can bear most things in the open air, and we slept more or less well.

Next morning, however, the sun was shining, but the river had risen six feet, and was in flood, and though we travelled much quicker, the rapids were not so thrilling, and we had to look out for snags and the trunks of trees that were being carried along by the brown and swirling torrent. The whirlpools were wonderful, and one's hair stood on end whilst going through them. In the afternoon we came to the place where the Manganui-a-te-Ao issues into the Wanganui from a magnificent gorge. It is one of the most beautiful parts of the river, but I shall leave the description of it till later. I had determined by this time to bring my wife to see what I considered one of the grandest sights in New Zealand, and after a few months I again visited this spot.

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We reached Pipiriki that night, staying at the accommodation house, and next morning we paid and said good-bye to our Maori canoeists, thanking them for the expert and careful way in which they had brought us about 80 miles down the river. We then made up the swags we were to carry on our horses, and shortly before eleven o'clock set out in a hired buggy for Ohakune. The road was good, and led through a lovely forest and close to a fine gorge, into which we could look down through the trees. We had lunch with a kind settler, and about four o'clock in the afternoon drove into Ohakune, where we found the half-caste and our horses awaiting us. Having had some tea there, we mounted and continued on our way, but we did not arrive at Karioi, our next stopping-place, till after dark. We stayed the night with Mr. Studholme's manager, Mr. McDonald, and next morning had a glorious view of Mt. Ruapehu, which is particularly imposing from this point. As soon as we had finished breakfast we departed, and, after passing a native settlement, we stopped near the edge of the bush for my daughter to make a sketch of the mountain. Then we went on and had a very long and tiring ride down Field's track between the Wangaehu and Mangawhero Rivers. Noeline's pony had developed a sore back on the journey across the Waimarino, and as this was not healed when we picked up the horses at Ohakune, we had borrowed a horse for her to ride. The animal had been out on grass for many months, and was very soft and not inclined for strenuous work, and as we had about fifty miles to go that day he was dead beat long

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before the end of the journey, and it was with the utmost difficulty that he could be made to move at all. We stopped and had lunch, but missed the track to an accommodation house where we could have had tea, and it was quite dark before we saw the lights of Mr. Manson's homestead, where we were going to stay the night. By this time we were thoroughly tired out, but were soon sitting down to a comfortable meal, which revived us considerably. We made an early start next morning, and went along into the Upokongaro Valley, which we descended till we joined the Wanganui again at the ferry, and rode on into the town of Wanganui.

Our trip was then over, and my daughter went by train to Patea to stay with her friends the Jollies, while I took the afternoon train to Wellington. I found my wife delighted to hear that our expedition was safely over, but furious with me for letting our daughter ride down the papa cliff cutting on the narrow track. "What would you have done," she said, "if Noeline had fallen over and been killed?" "I should not have dared to face you, my dear," I replied. "I should have bolted off to America at once."