Charm of Akaroa.

The little towns of New Zealand, in the older-settled parts, have some pretty corners, some page 51 pleasant ways, some picturesque buildings. Cambridge is one, Te Awamutu is another. Akaroa, the oldest of them all, has most beautiful walks. The winding roads that strike up into the hills from the waterside main street have reminded English visitors of the leafy lanes of Devon. The place is one great flower garden. The pathways are bordered by hedgegroves of fragrant hawthorn and thick alders; the air is sweet with the perfume of May, honeysuckle, roses and the white acacia. Around the houses are groves of great pear and other fruit trees—relics of the old French settlers—orchard kings, laden every season. There is teeming bird life. Even in the townsmen's gardens the bellbird and tui, the two most delightful songsters of the New Zealand bush, live and breed undisturbed. These pretty Minnesingers of the vanishing forests, usually honey-eaters and lovers of small native fruits, have here developed a taste for the pears and plums and cherries of the white man. Up behind the town there are the richest of grass lands. There are tracks that take you up to the craggy skyline, two thousand feet above the waterfront, and so winding are they that the climb is only an easy stroll.