X.—The Taieki River.

In order to see the beauties of the lower reaches of the Taieri River the visitor must take time by the forelock and be up and ready for a start at 8 a.m., for at that pleasant hour of the morning the only train which suits this excursion leaves Dunedin.

Starting with the morning train, after passing scenes already noticed, and rushing through the Chain Hills Tunnel, we suddenly emerge on the great Taieri Plain on its eastern margin, which is certainly its poorest side, although the first occupied by settlers, and are whirled along past Owhiro, Greytown, and Otakia, we are safely deposited at Henley Station, whence, after a short walk, just enough to put the joints all right after our two hours' confinement, we reach the unpretending but comfortable hostelry of Mr. Amos McKegg, where comforts of every sort are to be obtained, and where, perhaps, the largest apiary in the colony can be seen, with all the newest processes certainly not for making, but for extracting the honey and saving the wax.

The inspection of this industry is not our object, so we embark on board the little steam launch, and gliding gently down with the stream we pass the old Maori Kaik, whose inhabitants lave sadly diminished in numbers, and at a sudden bend, where the Waihola, Waipori, and Taieri streams are confluent, we pass beneath the East Taieri bridge, and gain the wide basin of the tidal reaches of the river.

The screw, however, is propelling us along, and ere we quit this fine land-locked sheet of water, we take a good look of the Kuri Hills to the left and on the Beauly or Ferry Hills to the right, and the conclusion is at once arrived at, that this is not country fit for settlement. Nor is it. Nor are we on the outlook for flat and profitable country. We came for and we want scenery. The strong arms of the second occupants have denuded the hill sides of their bush, and the bare surface is exposed to view, a comfortable homestead or cottage dotting the surface here and there, everything indicating peace and comfort. Unless the thought arises, How can people make a living out of such land as page 280this ? But be satisfied, critical visitor, many have on this same seemingly and really wild spot thriven and become prosperous.

We need not linger on this theme, as our mission is to view the wild grandeur of this river, towards which the steamer steadily bears us. In front rises a bluff—a bold projecting rock, which seems to arrest the further progress of the river, as, in days long past, it doubtless did, but now, after a long struggle, it has had to succumb and allow the water to make its way over its hard breast, wearing it down, until now the river-course is deep enough to float half a dozen of the largest ships in the world.

Onward the river glides, winding through a narrow gorge in the hills which rise on either hand, now well-nigh precipitously, anon more gently, from the water's edge, the grey and forbidding aspect of their weather-beaten cliffs contrasting well with the softer hues of the stunted native bush, which clothes-many a steep slope with a mantle of green; while in the hollows and ravines the trees attain a larger growth, and from beneath their friendly shelter the tree-ferns look out upon the swiftly-flowing stream. So sinuous is the course of the river that reach after reach presents the appearance of some lovely lakelet, till we arrive at the turning point, when another hill-encircled sheet of water meets our view. Proceeding onward, we at length reach a point where the hills recede and sandy shores intervene, with a rocky island seemingly shutting out the sea. This is our destination, and we steam slowly alongside a jetty and moor the launch.

This river was once the highway for the early settlers in the Taieri and Tokoinairiro, who, instead of having our easy means of locomotion, were obliged to take ship in an open whale-boat from Dunedin or Port Chalmers, and after a passage of sometimes twelve hours, at other times some days, they reached the Taieri Mouth, and camping for a night or two under a cabbage-tree, proceeded up the river with the tide, and ultimately reached their destination by this toilsome and roundabout route.

But these renminisciences are out of place here, though they were evoked by a question as to the use of the jetty or platform page 281near which we lie. It was erected by the Provincial Government, who attempted to make this a landing-place for goods consigned to the Tuapeka Diggings, when roads were not, and in those days a steamer used to trade between Dunedin and the river mouth.

After a short halt the ship is put about, and we now steam back again up the river, getting another, and perhaps a finer view than on the passage down. To the casual visitor the names of each particular hill or promontory are not of much interest; the general or prevailing features are all he cares for, and in sailing upwards new views are disclosed.

Facing us now is that beetle-browed precipitous point, whose back we saw in coming down stream, but which now openly asserts its pre-eminence against all assailants. And it has a tale to unfold. Where was there ever a weird spot like this, to which some incident was not attached ? And the wilder the country, and the more rugged the inhabitants, the more romantic would be the tale.

The steamboat is brought to a standstill whilst the narrative is told by the captain.

It was a beautiful summer evening, and the declining sun, glancing through the tops of the trees, cast a golden reflection on the smooth waters of the Waihola Lake, and rested on the form of a young girl, who was reclining on its banks on a rude couch of dry grass, beneath a large fern-tree, whose noble fronds almost touched a small canoe which was made fast close to the shore.

A richly-coloured mat fell in graceful folds to her feet, and was fastened below her shoulder by a large knot of purple flax, while her splendid dark tresses were interwoven with the wild vine and convolvulus. Her dark eyes sparkled with pleasure as the branches were heard to rustle, and a tall, handsome young man approached her. He was deeply tattooed, and his spear, the axe in his girdle, and his massive earrings, proclaimed by their curious carving that he was a man of some importance in his tribe.

Sitting down beside her, they conversed familiarly; but alas ! they knew not that from a tree close beside them a man—who from the fiendish hate displayed in his face might have been mistaken for a demon—was listening to all they said.

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Every now and then he poised his spear, as if about to throw it; and at length, just as the lovers were about to step into the canoe, he threw it with such deadly aim and force that it completely transfixed the youth, then springing from his hiding-place, he laid hold of the girl, and with a peal of savage laughter, pointed to the bleeding corpse, and with one blow of his-tomahawk cleft her head; and the flowers which at sunset had bound her hair, the first beams of the rising morn beheld steeped in her life's blood.

Pursued by the vengeance of the tribes, who were exasperated by the violation of the sacred tapu in the murder of their gallant chieftain and the loveliest maiden in the pa, the murderer was hunted from place to place, ultimately taking refuge in a hollow tree on the spur leading to that cliff on the river side. Discovered in this his last retreat, he was pursued to the top of yonder precipice. His enemies were close behind him; there were no means of escape. He knew that if he were taken, the most horrid tortures awaited him; he preferred risking the leap and trusting to the river. With a wild unearthly shriek, he sprang from the top, but striking the rock in his descent, he fell into the water a mangled corpse. From that circumstance the cliff derives its name of the Maori Leap.

This is the tradition handed down from generation to generation of the dusky race, and communicated, in the first years of the settlement, to one of the earliest settlers, who faithfully transcribed it, and so it has been handed down, probably with emendations, to our own times.

"Time and tide for no man bide," so having breathlessly listened, the engine gives a shriek and a puff, and we are away from these memories of the past, hurrying on to the hotel at Henley to obtain some refreshment, and wait for the Invercargill Express, by which in due time Dunedin is reached.

Note.—The origin of the name of the promontory known as "the Maori's Leap," here given, is that" with emendations "which has long been current in the district: but the Rev. J. W. Stack, in his" Traditional History of the South Island Maoris," tells a much more pleasing and romantic story. (Transactions N.Z. Institute, vol. x. pp. 83, 84.) The passage is as follows:— "Tukiauau, who escaped with his son and a few followers, separated from the main body of fugitives and went down to the Waihora (now Waihola) Lake, where he built a pa. While there his son, Koroki Whiti, page 283made the acquaintance of Haki Te Kura, the daughter of a chief whose pa stood at the mouth of Taiari (Taieri.) This maiden, unknown to her friends, used to meet her lover on the sands when the tide was low, and these clandestine meetings continued up to the time of Tukiauau's departure further south; for hearing rumours of Ngai Tahu's movements, he became alarmed and determined to place himself beyond pursuit. Accordingly he abandoned his pa at Waihora, and embarked with his followers in a large war canoe. As they were passing below her father's pa, Haki Te Kura, eager to join her lover, jumped off the cliff into the water, but in doing so either fell upon a rock or on the edge of the canoe and was killed. Tu Wiri Roa, overwhelmed with grief and rage, swore to destroy the man who was the cause of his daughter's death." This vow he some time afterwards fulfilled by slaughtering not only Koroki Whiti, but all his party whom he surprised at Rakiura, now Stewart Island.—Ed.