The Trip.

"Now, my master, for a true face and good conscience!"

—Henry IV.

"Be calm, good wind, blow not."

—Two Gent. Of Verona.

The Auckland Team had arrived on Wednesday, and on Thursday night an enthusiastic crowd of barrackers cheered both teams on to the Rotomahana, which was once again to have the honour of conveying the flowing of our Northern Chivalry against the foe, and on this occasion behaved in a manner worthy of the trust.

The first flush of excitement was scarcely past era the strident notes of a Capping Song quivered on the quiet air, summoning the faithful to the top deck. Some were faithful and came, others were faithful and didn't. Ivor Davie and a mandolin kept the fun going merrily until the Steward's "All ladies below, please" left the festive band with no interest in any thing but bunk. An hour or so next morning was devoted to the practice of a fearsome hake, specially compiled for the occasion, which paled the brow of the foe on several exciting page 16 occasions later. Dixon managed to get past Lyttleton this time, and a strong Canterbury Contingent jointed forces at Christchurch for the last stage.

Cold rain was falling when Dunedin was reached, but the Otago war-cry warmed the blood at once, and we were soon scattered over the city under the protecting wings of our respective hosts.