A Rough Day on Waikare-moana.

For a strong wind swoops down through the mountain-passes and inlets of Waikare, lashing the waters into foam. The white-crested waves are surging across the troubled lake, and break in wrath on the rock-bound shore at Te Wha-ngaromanga, on the great buttress of Ahititi. The spray is flying over Te Taunga-a-tara and Nga Hoe-o-Kupe, and drifts across the divide by the narrow outlet, for the "Sea of the Rippling Waters" is a wrath and pounds heavily on the imprisoning cliffs as if eager to be free.

To the west, the dark clouds are glooming over distant Huiarau, and driving down the rugged defiles which open out on Whanganui and Wairau. Then a struggle ensues between the storm and the westering sun for the mastery of Waikare, but the gallant sun-god triumphs, the rain-laden mists sag downwards and possess the inner arms of the "Star Lake," while the vapours above are white and fleecy beneath the conquering rays, and far away across the

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tossing waters a broad stream of gleaming silver stretches even unto Nga Whatu-a-tama and Te Upoko-o-Kahu-ngunu.

As we view the expanse of angry, surging waters, and listen to the hoarse roar of the white surf, it is hard to believe that this is but an inland lake, and not an inlet of the great ocean, with the swell setting in from the far Pacific.

Anon the sunlit mist settles down over the ranges of the west, obscuring the frontier of Tuhoe land—the giant Huia-rau. The white scud flies athwart the darkening ranges above Whanganui, the wind moans through the sturdy nock-nursed beeches, and among the weird cliffs of Ngamoko and Pane-kiri, but the bright sun flashes upon the heaving waters of Waikare, and the heart of man is glad.

Such is the view from Raekahu on a stormy day. But the following day was fine and calm, as we explored the wonders of the rugged cliffs around Pane-kiri and Awaawa-roa. The road now in process of formation from One-poto around the lake to Aniwaniwa is a delightful walk, and from it is obtained a fine view of the lake. And here on either side are strange caves and holes, yawning chasms of unknown depth, huge galleries running far into the range, and overhanging masses of rock. Yonder stands a huge splinter of a hundred tons or so, on the summit of which a great tree has perched; here is a rock, 20ft. in length, under which a rata has grown and lifted the great mass up bodily. Below us lies the now placid lake, and far away the snowy mountains rise sharply against the skyline. The sun sinks down on distant Huia-rau, and lights up the great Pane-kiri Bluff, as we wend our way homewards. A long streak of golden light glitters across the calm waters and follows us as we go forward. The shadows on either side deepen into purple, and from far away across the gleaming lake comes, the sound of a heathen song, as of Hau-ma-puhia or Tutaua, "singing as it goes." The canoe of the singers glides across the golden stream and is lost in the gloom of Pane-kiri, and then, with that glorious light gleaming on golden mountains and glittering waters, and the voices of the night around us, we go down into the darkening valley below.