CHAPTER II. FROM CHRISTCHURCH TO DUNEDIN, OTAGO.
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CHAPTER II.
FROM CHRISTCHURCH TO DUNEDIN, OTAGO.
HAVING at length made up my mind to leave Canterbury, my adopted home, which had been endeared to me by a twelve years' residence, and yield, to the solicitations of my friends in England to return to my native land, I resolved before my final departure from the Antipodes, to visit the other settlements of New Zealand, and to see all that I could on that most interesting side of the globe, previously to bidding farewell, perhaps for ever, to that fair land.
To commence my wanderings, therefore, I resolved first to take a trip southwards, to Otago, originally a Scotch settlement, founded in 1848 (two years before Canterbury), situated in latitude about 45 deg. 50" S., and about 250 miles from Canterbury. The capital of this settlement is Dunedin; and it has the credit of having been the first place in the southern hemisphere to inaugurate a "grand exhibition," which was opened a few weeks before I visited the place in 1865. Taking my place, therefore, early one morning in Cobb's coach, from Christchurch, and proceeding therein over the Sumner Road, famed for the perils of its "zig-zag," I arrived safely in Lyttelton, in two and a half hours. This journey commences with an excellent straight and level road of about four miles in length, at the end of which we cross the river Heathcote (in these improved days) by a bridge, in a part formerly only to be traversed by a punt
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over a ferry, from which this road took and still retains the name of the "Ferry Road." Arrived on the opposite bank of the river, we have our choice of two roads into port; we may either turn to the right and walk, or ride over the bridle-path, or choosing the left, drive along the road laboriously cut under the perpendicular (and often over-hanging) rocky hills, following the course of the shore along by the mouth of the Heathcote, passing the estuary where the Avon meeting it flows with it to the sea, until we halt and change our carriage at Sumner, a very sheltered and prettily-situated town about seven miles from Christchurch, and four or five from Lyttelton, in a fertile valley fronting the sea-shore, or estuary, and shut in on all other sides by the hills. This is a favourite resort of the Christchurch folks in general, and of newly-married couples in particular; it is frequented by all who require change of scene or air, within a convenient distance of the capital. In the summer months it is gay with pic-nic and pleasure parties seeking a day's enjoyment and relaxation; it has the additional advantage of being also accessible to boating parties by either the Avon or the Heathcote.
Leaving this pretty spot, we now commence the ascent of the hills, so terrific to weak nerves. The money and labour bestowed upon this road speak volumes for the enterprise and energy of the Canterburians; so formidable were the engineering difficulties it presented, that for some years it was considered by many to be but a mad project, and hopelessly impracticable; nothing, however, could daunt the courage and perseverance of Mr. J. E. Fitzgerald (then superintendent), under whose auspices it was carried on, and finally opened by him in person. This gentleman having once declared, at a time when public prejudice ran strongest against the continuance of the work, that he would himself ere long drive a tandem up it, actually carried out his promise, and, in company with three other gentlemen, performed that most perilous adventure, even before the road was perfectly finished, or rendered nearly
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as safe as it afterwards comparatively became. The making of this road is said to have cost not less than £50,000. Public carriages now run twice a day to and fro over this road between Christchurch and Lyttelton, and. the amount of general traffic is considerable, as all heavy goods must pass either by this way or by water, from the port to the capital, and vice versa, the latter method being generally avoided when possible, on account of the dangerous bar at the mouth of the river. 1
The zig-zag part of the road consists, as its name implies, of a series of sharp angular turns, in an extremely steep drive up the side of the hill, perpendicular on the one hand and looking down on the other into a deep ravine, from a height becoming more and more dizzy at every turn. I can only compare the form of this road to the representations of forked lightning as we see it in pictures. These perils safely past, we continue to wind round the hill side until we enter Lyttelton on the opposite side to that on which the bridle-path commences. The road, is perhaps not so dangerous as it looks, for accidents seldom occur, except through unsteadiness or inexperience in the drivers, or from using horses unaccustomed to it. On my arrival in Lyttelton I proceeded at once to a shipping agent and secured a return ticket for Dunedin, per screw steamer "Airdale," which I was informed was to start at noon. Then falling in with some friends, they assured me there was no hurry; there was no chance of the steamer starting before half-past twelve, that they always fired two guns, and if I went on board soon after the first, I should be in abundance of time; I must go in and have some lunch, and so forth. Concluding that they must know best, being residents in Lyttelton, I acquiesced at first, but soon becoming fidgety, I resolved to run no risk, as I thought, and saying I would not wait for the first gun, forthwith departed, notwithstanding all their hospitable remonstrances. It would be well if all bore in mind, under such circum-
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stances, the good old precept, "Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest;" but in this case had I not insisted on speeding my own departure, in opposition to my friends, I should have lost my passage. No gun had fired, yet on nearing the jetty I saw to my dismay that the vessel had departed and was fast steaming down the harbour. There was nothing left for it but to take a boat; I knew I was at the mercy of the boatmen to catch her and put me on board; not a moment was to be lost in bargaining; I felt that in striving to save a few shillings I should probably lose the £4 paid for the passage. So I at once paid the men their demand of 10s. without remonstrance (right fare 1s. 6d.), and was glad enough to find myself put safely on board, the steamer lying-to on seeing us approach.
In all these coasting vessels the sleeping accommodation is small, confined, and uncomfortable; the ladies, too, seem to be always put off with the worst, especially the single ladies, for the married couples have tolerably roomy cabins assigned to them, with, of course, only one couple in each, but the unfortunate "unprotected females" have to sleep (or lie sleepless) in berths like shelves, one above another, four, or six, or more, in one small closet of about six or eight feet square, with generally nothing to sit on but their own box or carpetbag. Sometimes one of the lower berths is convertible into a sofa, which forms the stewardess's bed by night, the depository of her stores by day, and her wardrobe at all times. On descending into the cabin of the "Airdale," I found all these shelves engaged; there was only the stewardess's narrow sofa, and this she gave up to me, making her own bed, when night came, on the floor of the same closet, or cabin, as we must call it.
I don't remember to have ever been before this occasion on board a screw steamer (paddle motion is a perfect luxury compared to it). You lean backward in your seat on deck, and thump, thump, thump, continually goes on at your back until you can bear it no longer; you lie down exhausted in your berth, and find it even
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worse--thump, rattle, clank at your brain, and the screw itself seems working into your side to your very heart.
Though a first-rate sailor, I found all this discomfort and torture too much for me at first. However, one gets accustomed to almost anything after a time, and having valiantly resolved to dine, I became pretty brave again.
But, oh! the night, in that crowded cell, so horribly hot and close! Not one wink of sleep could I get, nor the stewardess either, for the occupants of all the other shelves gave her constant employment. Of course, with such accommodation, I had made but very slight difference between my day and night costume, and with the first peep of dawn that found its way through the one small porthole, I rose quickly and hurried on deck, which I found all wet and streaming, seats and all, with the "washing down" process that was going on, but still far better than staying below. We had not a very rough voyage; indeed, what pitching and rolling we had was quite welcome to me, as counteracting, in some degree, the motion of the dreadful and relentless screw. We kept rather close to land all the way, and sometimes so near that we could have spoken to any one on shore.
I may here mention, that the promontory called Banks's Peninsular, round which our course lay, has a number of other bays, both within and outside that forming the harbour of Lyttelton; all the lands around them are fertile and picturesque. Among these are Governor's Bay, with its prettily-situated stone church, Port Levi, Pigeon Bay, Okains Bay, Akaloa; others taking their names from the proprietors of estates or farms situated on them, such as Rhode's, Cass's, Dampier's Bays, and many more, all forming favourite excursions for pleasure steamers and boating parties. Most of these lie on the north side of the peninsular, but the beautiful and spacious harbour of Akaloa opens to the south.
Akaloa is a lovely spot, and has been called the "Brighton of Canterbury," standing in somewhat of the same relation to Christchurch, as a watering-place, that
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Brighton does to London. It has a mild and delightful climate, and produces an abundance of fine grapes and other fruits.
I observed that the surface of the sea, and deep down as far as the eye could penetrate, was literally crowded for miles together with swarms of small bright-red fish, rather larger than good sized shrimps. I was told, upon inquiry, that no use is ever made of them, nor could I find that they had any name assigned them but that of "whale's food," as the whales are said to live on them. We coasted along, rounding the peninsular, passing the entrance to Akaloa Harbour, Timaru, etc., but there was a scarcity of pretty scenery for the first part of the voyage; the hills were steep, running down close to the sea, and mostly barren, but as we neared "Port Chalmers," and afterwards, they became richly wooded, with lovely valleys between them, the trees and bright-green Gnaio shrubs (the native laurel) growing thickly down to the water's edge.
In many places, however, I observed the hills to be clear of trees at the lower parts, though closely wooded at the top. This is said to be the result of native wars and accidental fires in ages long past, the woods (or "bush," as all forests, large or small, are universally called) having been burnt by the natives at times beyond the memory of man, and the fires having failed to reach the highest tops. In proof of this theory, it is said that at no such cleared places can one dig many feet down without coming upon large trunks of prostrate trees, many being found also at greater depths, more than twenty feet of earth having accumulated over some of them.
In one of the many picturesque valleys may be seen a missionary station. The minister is said to be a German, who was driven away from Taranaki by the rebels during the recent war, and so attached was he to his ungrateful Maori flock that it nearly broke his heart. Entering between two heads into a spacious bay, we came suddenly upon the town of Port Chalmers. There is not
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much of a town here, but it is pretty, picturesque, and clean looking. I should add that everything was certainly seen under most favourable circumstances, for we had lovely weather, bright and clear, neither too windy, too hot, nor too cold; what we call, in short, "a true New Zealand day." There were only a few public-houses on the beach, one steep street of no great length running up from the shore, with a few shops, some pretty country-houses and gardens on the hills above, and on an eminence to the left a pretty-looking stone building with a spire, which I doubted not at first was the church; but no, it was the Wesleyan chapel. "Where then is the church?" I asked.
"There, on the hill to the right, a white building with a tower."
"A tower!" I exclaimed. "Why, I took that for a rather ugly house, with a broad chimney."
"Well, it is the English church," was the reply.
Alas! why do we allow ourselves to be thus outstripped, in so many places, by the Wesleyans, whose zeal and liberality enable them to establish good-looking and commodious places of worship everywhere; while we are too often content with some homely, shabby, inconvenient room, or, perhaps, a crazy barn, wherein to assemble ourselves before a rickety altar-table. In the present instance the building before us really was, I believe, in fact, a church, though so vastly inferior in appearance to the ecclesiastical-looking erection on the opposite hill, as to be quite eclipsed by it.
We had no time to land. A small steamer, the "Golden Age," was immediately alongside of us. All bound for Dunedin were soon aboard of her, and away we went, without loss of time, round a wooded point of land, and on through seven or eight miles of an inlet of the sea called "the River," about two miles broad, or rather more, with beautiful scenery on both sides, wooded hills and dells, with here and there cottages and houses, gardens, and a few fields where spaces have been cleared
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for them. From these gardens, as I was told, most of the vegetables consumed in Dunedin are supplied. Sometimes, where there may be sufficient space on the beach, at the foot of the hill, we see a boat-builder's establishment, with one or two largish vessels in progress, and in one place a rather important-looking brewery, supplied with water from a little mountain stream by means of a small aqueduct. Almost every place where a habitation is to be seen has also a little roughly-formed jetty for its own private convenience in boating. The pretty little picturesque houses, perched half-way up the hills, embowered in trees, almost set me longing, and thinking how peaceably and happily a life might be passed in such lovely and quiet retreats. I was told that the walk from Port Chalmers to Dunedin, along the tops of the hills, is quite worth taking for its beauty. It is about nine miles long. A coach goes and returns daily, but the road is rugged, and the journey in driving takes more than twice as long as the trip by the steamer.
Arrived at Dunedin, the "Golden Age" steamed alongside one of the many and substantial jetties that here run out from the shore. It still wanted an hour of noon, so that the whole voyage from Lyttelton had occupied scarcely twenty-three hours.
Taking a fly, I now drove up a very steep and stony hill to a boarding-house to which I had been recommended; found it rather full, and was able to secure only a very small and indifferent bed-room, and no sitting-room; was forced therefore to take my meals in the public-room, with about a dozen gentlemen and one married couple, the landlord and landlady presiding at the top and bottom of the table. 2 After luncheon I sallied forth alone to explore the town; found my way to the Great Exhibition, a handsome square building of considerable size, with two large turrets, and four
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smaller ones at the four corners. Here, having procured a catalogue, I sat down to rest and study it; then strolling about for some hours within the building, I afterwards retraced my steps, toiling up the steep hill to my quarters in time for dinner. The next day a lady friend resident here (to whom I had written announcing my arrival) came to see me, and escorted me into the principal streets.
Dunedin is a very extensive town, built on the sides of steep hills, which are in many places hewn or blasted away to make space for the houses. The chief street is called Prince's Street. It is, I should think, nearly a mile long, and runs along the foot of a high hill; one side of it therefore is constructed as just mentioned, i. e., with the houses close up against the hill, which is hewn away for the purpose. They are three or four stories high (an unusual style of building in that part of the world, where houses scarcely ever exceed two stories), and when within them you mount up flight after flight of (generally iron-covered) stairs, you observe the back windows that you pass by to be all close up against the perpendicular bare earth or rock. The inhabitants of each floor have usually a distinct and separate calling. Every here and there between the houses you see narrow, steep flights of wooden steps running up to a great height, and communicating with houses higher up on the hill above. From the other side of this street other streets run down to the water, which here forms a large basin, from which there is no outlet excepting that by which we entered yesterday, and no river, but only one small brook, is said to flow into it. No large vessel can come up higher than Port Chalmers, on account of the sandbanks in the (miscalled) river. A dreadful wreck happened here a few months before my visit, when, one dark evening, a steamer coming up with passengers from a ship was run into by another, and sunk instantly. A whole family, consisting of a clergyman, his wife, and five children (one being an infant), were drowned together
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in their cabin; and this, after having come lately safe from England, and last from Melbourne, and being now close to shore, within half an hour of their journey's end and the new home that was awaiting them.
Never, they say, was so sad a sight in Dunedin as when all the bodies in their coffins, and some others who perished with them, were brought in long and terrible procession to be buried. The clergyman whose sad duty it was to read the solemn burial service, could scarcely proceed with it for grief; and strong, rough men stood by, crying like children. The shops of Dunedin, excepting, perhaps, the jewellers' (which are very showy), seemed to me inferior to those of Christchurch; the haberdashers', however, looked, very attractive.
The streets are extremely well lighted with gas, and the lamp-posts in the best thoroughfares are of very handsome and solid-looking bronze.
The pavements are bad; the asphalt (which answers so well in Christchurch) had scarcely come into use at all at Dunedin, where both road and pathway are made of sharp rough stones, not left loose in Macadam fashion, but firmly, though irregularly, imbedded in the earth. This method is for the most part absolutely necessary, as, from the steepness of the streets, the stones would otherwise all tumble to the bottom of the ascent. There are some very handsome public buildings, banks, etc., chiefly of stone, which is abundant here, both black and white. I did not see any quarries of the latter, but the hills seem to be mostly composed of the former, which is got out in large slabs. St. Paul's Church (English) is built of this black stone, in small pieces shaped like bricks, but rather larger; all the corners of the building, borders round the windows, architraves, and the angles of the steeple, being of white stone. The effect is very good, though, rather peculiar, reminding one slightly of the Cathedral of St. Laurence, at Genoa. The inside of this church is
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lined with large blocks of white stone, with handsome cluster columns; it has two spacious and very lofty aisles; the roofs of mahogany-stained, and varnished wood, well finished off; a large chancel, handsome lectern, etc.; seats all uniform (and many of them free), of carved, wood stained and varnished. It is excellently constructed for sound, and well ventilated, and lighted by high Gothic windows (but no stained glass). A magnificent organ of rich tone, a good organist, and good choir. In the evening it is lighted as bright as day, by large brilliant gas sunlights, placed close up in the lofty roofs. This building was altogether more like what a church should be than anything I had seen since I left the old country. 3 Of course, however, all other denominations have fully kept pace with us even here, if they have not quite excelled us, as elsewhere; all have their handsome edifices of massive stone or brick.
Though Otago is a Scotch settlement, there appears to be scarcely a known creed or sect that has not its place of worship in the capital. 4
There is a law here forbidding the erection of any buildings save of brick or stone, in consequence of the frequent dreadful fires which take place, and commit such terrible devastation in those parts of the town where the wooden houses of former days prevail. There had been, as I was told, five fearful fires within the two months previous to my visit; the last was two nights before my arrival, and all the locality of the ruins was still enveloped in volumes of smoke, rising in puffs and clouds as if the flames were ready to break forth again at any moment. This was occasioned by there being still a large quantity of butter, bacon, sardines, and other such matters, smouldering still in the ruins, which remained so hot as to burn off the
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soles from the boots of the men who attempted to dig among them; the smoke continued to issue as long as I was in Dunedin, and this notwithstanding much heavy rain. The reason fires are so much more destructive there than they usually are with us in Christchurch, is the scarcity of water. They have no river (the so-called water being, as aforesaid, only an inlet of the sea). No artesian wells, only a few little scattered mountain streamlets, which nowhere unite so as to make any available body of water for such emergencies. There is now, however, a Waterworks Company formed, which it is to be hoped will improve matters in this respect. 5
To return to our walk. After purchasing some photographic views of the town and. buildings, to obtain which we had to mount about six flights of stairs, we went into the Exhibition, this being my second visit to it. It is a handsome square stone building, with a courtyard in the centre, has two towers, and is very extensive and complete, considering it is a first attempt at the Antipodes; the collection also was extremely creditable. Most of the things exhibited, were, of course, imported from England, Australia, India, etc., etc., but, at the same time, there was no lack of manufactures, productions, and curiosities belonging to the country itself. There was much curious and ingenious machinery in full work, costly fabrics, exquisite china, and splendid jewellery; much handsome and luxurious furniture, inlaid woods--in short, curious and useful articles of all kinds, ancient and modern, from far and near. A spacious, well-filled gallery runs round the interior of the building.
I was surprised to find how very little pride the Otago people seemed to take in this very creditable work; indeed, as far as I could hear or learn, they nearly all ran it down, or spoke slightingly, and even contemptuously of it, boasting that they had never been inside it, or taken any interest in it.
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The only reasons that I heard given for this apathy or discontent were, that "the time was not come for such things;" "it was in advance of the place;" "it was an unwarrantable extravagance--other buildings were wanted much more than one for so useless a purpose;" that "the place was almost in a state of bankruptcy, 6 and it was inconsistent to be doing such things." Also, the site of the building gave offence; they said there was an attempt being made to draw the town down to that end, and that the people were determined not to have it so; that it was an unhealthy swamp, and that the edifice, massive as it looks, and raised as it is upon ground that has been brought there for the purpose, will sink and go to pieces before long; that not two years since two children were drowned in the swamp on that very spot, and that a few years back the best wild duck shooting was to be had there.
The site, it seems, was drained and raised with the intention of building Government offices there, but the measure was so unpopular, and raised such a clamour among the people, that the Government had to abandon the project. It certainly does seem to be the only low and level part of the whole place, and it is said that it can never be perfectly drained.
Saturday was considered to be the fashionable day for the Exhibition (so at least I was told, though it seemed odd it should be so, since it was one of the shilling days--Wednesday alone being a half-crown day). There were still, however, but very few there-- more, certainly, than, on the day before, when I had found it particularly quiet and pleasant, with only three or four plainly-dressed ladies ("unprotected females,"
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like myself) strolling about, catalogue in hand, examining at their leisure, and thinking, apparently, of no one else. This day, however (Saturday), the few who were there were principally young ladies and their admirers, who (in spite of the numerous notices placed upon everything requesting them "not to touch," and the many policemen always at hand to admonish to the same effect) would listlessly pull and toss about almost any article they happened to stand near to; they seemed, in fact, to be thinking of nothing but themselves and their "get up," and to see nothing but their beaux or belles, as the case might be. It struck me as a curious fact that the young ladies seem to go about (for the most part) without mammas or chaperons. My friend introduced me to two or three young ladies who were there under these circumstances, and with a bevy of young men dancing attendance upon them. On my remarking how odd it seemed, she replied that they thought nothing of it--they never moved out, she said, without a beau each, and two or three to spare. She pointed out to me two of the most admired belles of Dunedin, both of whom appeared to me to be, I am sorry to say, a very bad style of girls. On my saying so, she confirmed my opinion by telling me that one of these young ladies, having been told by a policeman that she must not touch the things exhibited, turned round upon him and answered, "You're a cheeky bobby to speak to me!" And these young ladies, she assured me, talk as much slang as any man. 7
On coming out of the Exhibition, we found it had been raining heavily, having been threatening all the morning--it was the first rain that had fallen, they said, since Christmas. I now, therefore, parted from my
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friend, and commenced the ascent of the hill alone, congratulating myself on having prudently brought an umbrella. Ere I had toiled half way up, however, the rain came down in a torrent that set all umbrellas at defiance, and by rendering the steep road both sticky and slippery, retarded my progress, so that I became nearly wet through.
The next day (Sunday) I went to morning service at St. Paul's, which stands about half way down the hill. It was raining a little as I went, and in a perfect cascade when the service was over. There was nothing for it, however, but to brave the storm and plod again up the toilsome hill, now in such a state that I had to put down my umbrella, and use it as a walking-stick, to aid me in the struggle with the sticky clay, some pounds' weight of which attached itself to each boot. Beguiled by a temporary lull in the downpour, I was rash enough again to venture forth for the evening service, and suffered for my temerity, returning home in just such another torrent as in the morning, with the additional trouble of having this time to scramble on in darkness. I had now had a not very agreeable specimen of what Dunedin was like in wet weather.
On Monday morning I left the boarding-house early, and after another walk about the town, embarked again on board the "Golden Age" steamer for Port Chalmers, on my return towards Canterbury. My young friend joined me on board, and resolved to accompany me as far as Port Chalmers. The scenery appeared even more lovely than before. We kept close this time to the opposite coast. The houses, gardens, etc., were very similar to those on the other side. About half way we stopped at a jetty in a little bay, where the steamer took in her supply of water from a reservoir constructed for the purpose, and filled by a small aqueduct from a mountain stream.
We reached Port Chalmers at about one in the afternoon, and having steamed up alongside of the "Lord Ashley," I went on board, engaged my berth,
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deposited my baggage, and then returning to the "Golden Age," went in her to the jetty, where we landed, and walked up one of the hills to a pretty house with two bay windows, the owners of which were known to my friend. Finding, however, that they were absent from home, we accepted the hospitality rendered in their name by a nice, civil servant-maid, who regaled us in good style with tea and eggs, bread, butter, buns, and jams--all of the best, and served in excellent style.
At three o'clock we returned to the jetty, and having seen my friend safely on board the "Golden Age," again to return to Dunedin, I put myself into a pretty and clean little boat (the boats here nearly all have a gay and clean appearance, being painted bright green), and went on board the "Lord Ashley," bound for Lyttelton. It was not till nearly six in the evening that our captain arrived with 111 diggers for the Hokitika gold-fields, and other passengers, and in another quarter of an hour we were off.
The ladies' cabin was worse here than in the "Airdale," but was divided into two, which was so far an advantage, that on finding a family with children and a baby had taken possession of all the other berths in the cabin where I had chosen mine, I changed, and went into the adjoining one, which was just large enough for myself, one other lady, and the stewardess. Very close and stuffy it was--no place to sit down, and no possibility of sitting up in the berth, no alternative but lying down in the cabin or remaining on deck; the dining-saloons in these vessels being generally occupied by the gentlemen lolling at full length on the seats.
The next morning I was up on the wet decks, according to my usual custom, long before any of the other passengers had left their berths. This time we were well out at sea, and the weather being misty, we had no sight of land for many hours. The captain (Captain Randall) and myself had recognized each
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other as former acquaintances, which secured me extra attention, and made the voyage far more pleasant. I asked him how he accounted for the want of gallantry shown towards the ladies by those who planned the fitting up of these vessels, in giving them such cramped and uncomfortable sleeping-places, and no saloon to themselves? He replied that they had only just begun to realize the possibility of ladies taking these voyages, and therefore had not arranged for their proper accommodation; but now, that it was becoming so usual for ladies to go about between the different settlements, he had no doubt the owners would, see to the matter, and make the necessary improvements for their reception on board.
We had a tolerably quiet voyage--the living and cooking extremely good. These steamers are mostly fine, strongly-built vessels, of good, size, and handsomely fitted up in the saloons; but the smoke and constant showers of soot and steam on deck are most annoying, and destructive to every article of dress they fall upon. The noise and smell, too, are very disagreeable, so that I felt glad to get on shore again.
It was late in the evening when we reached Lyttelton Harbour, and the tide being out, the steamer could not approach the jetty. The captain very politely invited me to stay on board, as it was not possible to go on to Christchurch that night. I preferred, however, escaping from the wretched sleeping cabin, and so took a boat for shore, and departed to the "Queen's Hotel," where I slept, and the next morning had a pleasant drive over the Sumner Road again, which, somehow, did not appear to me so terrific or dangerous in coming this way as in going; perhaps the delightful thoughts of home, and returning to my dear friends in Christchurch, would have caused me to think even a worse road pleasant.
