Auckland Fifty Years Ago.

Up to Wednesday, September 24, we had not seen the slightest sign of land since we lost sight of the coast of Devonshire on Wednesday, June 25 (just 13 weeks), but it is proverbially "a long road that has no turning," and so at last our weary exile was approaching its end. About four bells (two o'clock) in the afternoon there was a shout of "land on the starboard bow!" Instantly the greatest excitement prevailed. The land proved to be the Three Kings. We passed to the northward of them. The following morning we were abreast of Cape Brett. The wind was light, about due west, and it was very pleasant sailing along the coast, with the wind off the land and abaft the beam. Friday morning found us well in the Gulf, off Tiri, about seven o'clock. An hour later we were boarded by Pilot Burgess. A lead through the channel and then, nearing Bean Rock, "'Bout ship!" A few boards up the harbour, then: "Clew up and haul down!" "Stand by the anchor!" "All ready, for'ard?" "All ready, sir." "Down helm!" Slowly she comes up in the wind and loses way. "Let go!" "Let go it is." The carpenter's maul descends; the anchor drops from the cathead, and we hear the music of the cable rattling through the hawsepipe. She swings to her chain, and lies peacefully at anchor in the "tranquil waters of the Waitemata."