page 230

Appendix C.
Notes of a Journey Through a Part
of the Middle Island of New Zealand.^*

Sir,—There are several reasons which induce me to believe that a short account of the coast of this island on which we have settled, as far as it was seen by the expedition in search of the site for New Edinburgh, will not be unacceptable to your readers.

The projected formation of a new settlement to the southward has drawn the eyes of all in that direction; and every one, whether his motives be those of mere curiosity, or whether he have in view to turn his knowledge to some profitable account, is anxious to hear something of the character of the field which the colonists are about to occupy.

But, independently of this, it must always be a matter of interest to us to acquire information with regard to the country on which we are settled. If it be true that "knowledge is power," it will be found to be equally true that it is success in colonising. This island, I am now satisfied from the very little of it which I have seen, possesses available resources of the existence of which, until I saw them, I had scarcely any idea: and I feel confident that, as it becomes better known to us, new fields for the profitable investment of capital and the operations of industry will unfold themselves. It is as yet, in fact, a terra incognita, a country of whose outline we know nothing further than a mere sketch, while of its interior we are entirely ignorant. The amount of information which I can contribute is exceedingly small; but I offer it you willingly, and consider that I am so doing what it is the duty of every one to do who can see and note what he sees.

Although the coast of this country, as regards information on it on the part of the public in general, may be said to be almost unknown, yet there are certain individuals, countrymen of our own, and those not few in number, to whom nearly every harbour, cape, and river mouth is familiar, and the wilder and more remote parts of the coast even better known than those more frequented. A considerable white population, of whom, comparatively speaking, we have heard nothing, is at present resident in the southern parts of this island, and has lived there for many years. The persons composing it are now engaged principally in the whale fisheries, and still to a small extent in sealing. But, some years ago, when seals were abundant, the pursuit of them was a business of great profit; and many large boats carrying crews of hardihood and daring, unfortunately often also of reckless licentiousness and ferocity, annually visited the most remote parts of the coast—pushed into every bay and visited every rocky island—following their page 231prey, in short, to every situation, however wild and inaccessible, in which it sought refuge from their pursuit. Among these men, accordingly, an intimate and practical knowledge of the most remote parts of the coast is to be met with; but, as might be expected, it has never passed beyond them. In many instances, perhaps, they wished to keep secret the knowledge of some hidden rock or inlet where they were sure to find their game: but in all instances, we may presume with tolerable certainty that they neither cared nor had the ability to make known in a manner available to others that which they themselves knew so well. The outline of the coast of New Munster, in the most recent and approved charts, with the exception of the shores of Cook's Straits, is altogether wrong. The prominent points of latitude and longitude have been given by Captain Cook with his usual admirable accuracy, but the rest appears to have been drawn in by the map makers, with vivid powers of imagination. Bays, harbours, and lagoons, navigable for large ships, are represented in attractive succession, which, I need not say, are to be met with on the map alone. Captain Cook landed and remained some time upon two opposite points of the circumference of the island, viz., Queen Charlotte's Sound and Dusky Bay. The rest of the coast he saw from the sea, and at some distance from the land. Since his time, with the exception of Commodore D'Urville, who visited our own district of Blind Bay, no one has contributed any accurate information towards the geography of what is now called New Munster. The consequence is, that in works which profess to describe New Zealand, the largest island of the three is not described at all. It is passed over sub silentio. But it seems never to have occurred to the gentlemen who have published their "New Zealands," that it was necessary to see more than a very small portion of it, in order to describe the whole. The first half dozen works given to the public, with the name of the whole country pasted on their backs, were written upon the strength of a scramble in the neighbourhood of the Bay of Islands, or a more adventurous expedition from that place to Hokianga: just as if a man were to spend a short time at Thurso, take a walk to John o' Groat's House, and thereupon write an account of Great Britain and Ireland. But, it will be found, that this portion of our adopted country, which has hitherto, like Cinderella, been out and consigned to obscurity, will, as true merit always does, yet force itself into notice, and prove to those by whom it has been treated with such neglect, that it would have been better for them had they made its acquaintance sooner.

Before proceeding to give an account of what was seen by the expedition, I should wish to point out, in the formation of the New Edinburgh settlement, the introduction, for the first time, of a principle of the plainest and utmost importance, the neglect of which, as I need not remind any one at all conversant with the history of this country, has been productive of the most serious mischief, confusion and distress, and has certainly brought to the door of some party or other a most heavy load of responsibility. I allude to this, that the site of a settlement about to be formed should be carefully looked for and examined before it is determined on. And yet in the case of New Edinburgh, notwithstanding all that had gone before, had it not been for the remonstrance of Mr. Tuckett, the same fatal error was on the point of being again committed, and the New Zealand Company was once more on the point of landing a large body of immigrants on a part of New Zealand, with regard to the nature and capabilities of which neither it nor any of its agents had anything like accurate information. It would be difficult to overrate the importance of the page 232service which Mr. Tuckett has rendered to the future settlement; and, indeed, to the colonisation of the country in general—for the one follows from the other. Whatever may be the opinion of the future settlers about New Zealand as a country—however they may be pleased or displeased with its climate and powers of production—of this, at all events, they may rest assured, that their location at Otago has not been dictated by a body of men 16,000 miles distant, who know almost nothing about the country, and equally so that it has not been stumbled on by accident; but, on the contrary, they will learn that Otago was fixed upon after a deliberate survey of all the available land in New Munster, and partly also in Stewart's Island; and a comparison of the merits of different places: and that this was accomplished by means of a personal examination of them, not merely the harbours, but also the interior country; and at the expense of an amount of physical exertion and exposure, which, in my opinion, few men in New Zealand,. besides Mr. Tuckett, would have encountered. For these and other reasons, I am of opinion that the New Edinburgh settlement is much indebted to that gentleman; and that all of us, particularly we who are settled on the Middle Island, are indebted to him also; for it is owing to his exertions that the site has been chosen which is best calculated to meet the wishes of the settlers, and consequently to raise the character of New Zealand in the mother country.

On another important point, New Edinburgh enjoys an advantage, the absence of which has been a very serious drawback to the settlements already formed, viz., the sanction and co-operation of Government. We, of Nelson and Port Nicholson, should be now pretty well aware of the value of this.

Having made these preliminary remarks, I shall now proceed to tell you shortly, and as clearly and impartially as I can, what we saw, and partly, also, what we heard, from Cape Campbell to Stewart's Island.

We left Port Nicholson late on the night of the 2nd of April; and, having a fine northerly breeze, next morning we were abreast of the mountains commonly called the Kaikoras, bowling along to the southward at a speed of about 8 knots. The coast here has anything but an available or inviting appearance. At the distance from which we saw it, about fifteen miles, it appears to rise at once from the sea with bold and rugged slopes, densely covered with forest. The upper part of the mountains, which tower to a stupendous height, were hidden in clouds, but showed in glimpses bare and broken precipices, and deep ravines white with snow. On our return, we again passed under the Kaikoras; but this time, by the light of a full moon shining in a cloudless sky. The two upper thirds, at least, of the mountains were purely white with snow; and their appearance, under such circumstances, was beautiful and picturesque in the highest degree. I estimate the snow line at this season of the year at 3,000 feet in ordinary weather, by which standard I feel certain that the height of this group of mountains cannot be less than nine or ten thousand feet. The next morning, again, we saw the Kaikoras under a very different, but an almost equally beautiful aspect. We were near the entrance of Port Nicholson when the sun rose. The part of the mountains not covered with snow was nearly below the horizon, but the first red beams of the morning struck npon their summits, and lighted them with a rich fiery amethyst tint, which was beautifully relieved against the cold grey of a clear frosty morning. To the south of the Kaikoras, the coast line sinks, though still high and broken. From the distance at which, we passed, it was impossible to say whether a belt page 233of level country skirted the shore, as I have heard is the case, but I should think it very doubtful. I distinguished, on returning, the indentation which is marked on the charts as "Lookers-on—appearance of a fine harbour." There is a small extent of level land here, but though there is partial shelter, I am informed upon very good authority that there is no harbour. I very much fear that the large extent of country which Captain Daniell and Mr. Duppa heard of from the captain of the Ville de. Paris will turn out to be fabulous. Proceeding southward, the coast line becomes less lofty and of a less rugged character, but it was impossible to affirm anything of it with precision, for a good deal of hazy mist hung over the land. About sunset we sighted Banks' Peninsula ahead of us, having the appearance of an island of moderate height. The mainland on our right seemed, comparatively speaking, low, while the connecting neck of the Peninsula was invisible. But, after sunset, a red glare in the sky pointed out to us that there was land in that direction, and that the process of burning the herbage was going on.

After a day of mist and light contrary winds, in which we hardly advanced, and could see nothing, on the morning of April 5th we found ourselves about three miles from the entrance of Port Cooper, becalmed, with beautiful weather. We had plenty of time to look at the shore, and remarked that its appearance was somewhat different from that of the other parts of New Zealand we had been accustomed to. I should say that the scene was on the whole more picturesque, presenting rocky steeps and cliffs, which are not often seen in this country, and slopes covered with a short grassy herbage which yields a much greater variety of tints than the monotonous fern. The height of the hills which form Banks' Peninsula may, at a rough guess, be about 2,000 feet. Seen from a distance, their outline is what we should call in Scotland sow-backed, but, when you are among them, you find abundance of ridges and volcanic-looking pinnacles. On the north side of the Peninsula (for I cannot speak as to its south side), they send off numerous spurs, which descend with gentle slopes, though separated by steep gullies towards the water, where they terminate in escarped cliffs. The summits of these ridges are bare, but the gullies are densely wooded; and it is between these ridges that the harbours with which Banks' Peninsula abounds are formed. Ports Cooper and Levi are close upon where the high land of the Peninsula sinks down towards the level neck. The outer heads are common to both harbours, which diverge from one another like two fingers of the same hand slightly separated.

Port Cooper is far from being a good harbour. It is, properly speaking, a deep, narrow bay, nowhere land-locked, excepting one or two small bays which branch off from it. With the wind from the northward, a heavy swell rolls in; but the water never breaks in it, as the waves are choked at its mouth and their motion broken. The holding ground is good, so that it is considered a safe place for vessels to lie, although in rough weather, as we experienced, they roll about in a manner which is neither convenient nor agreeable. Near the mouth of the harbour, its shores are rocky, bold and picturesque; and, though less so further up, there is nowhere along its sides more than a few acres of level land. At its upper extremity there is a large flat, but vessels cannot approach within seven miles of this. We anchored in the first place in a small bay, on the eastern side of the harbour, where a Mr. Greenwood has lately squatted, and has a considerable number of cattle and sheep. This bay is undoubtedly the most convenient place in Port Cooper—both as regards anchorage and land. page 234There is not, however, much more than two fathoms of water in it, so that it is not adapted for vessels of much draught. I went ashore here to have a look at the country. The soil is a light greyish black mould, I should think of considerable fertility. The vegetation which clothes it is principally a tufty wire grass, with a small proportion of short fern, offering no impediment to walking. At the head of the bay is a flat of about 100 acres of very rich-looking soil; and on the north side of the bay are easy slopes for a short distance from the water; but, above these, the basaltic rock of which the Peninsula is composed bursts out in the form of rugged terraces and castellated peaks. The opposite side of the bay is a steep cliff, which is surmounted by a piece of table land of some extent. The herbage on this had been burnt some time before, and was springing fresh and green. The whole scene was one of wild pastoral beauty, and reminded me forcibly of some parts of the Western Highlands.

On returning to the ship, we found some of the principal chiefs of the Southern Island on board, viz., Tuawaike, or Bloody Jack, and Tairoa. They had come from Port Levi, which appears to be the headquarters of the natives about the Peninsula, very few living in Port Cooper. The preference given to the former place probably arises from there being more wood upon its shores.

The two chiefs seemed to be aware of the mission on which we were bound; and were very anxious to tell us of their great possessions, and to discuss the question of the value of the land; but, to their evident mortification, the subject was avoided as much as possible. Tuawaike is probably one of the most Europeanised natives in New Zealand. He was most correctly and completely dressed in white man's clothes, even to the refinement of a cotton pocket handkerchief. His outward and investing garment was an excellent drab great-coat; and no stage-coachman in England could have thrust his hands into its pockets with a more knowing air. Sanguinary John is not one of those natives that climb up a ship's side, and forthwith squat down upon their hams on the deck. After shaking hands he pulls out his watch, and asks you what time you make it, and, having satisfied himself on this point, he pulls out a dollar, and orders the steward to fetch him a bottle of wine. In the evening we had him in the cabin, where we both profited and were much amused by his conversation. He gave us a great deal of information about the geography of the country, and it was particularly valuable, as he understands, our divisions both of time and distance. On many subjects he surprised us by the extent of his knowledge; and, generally, his remarks were characterised by much shrewdness and very considerable drollery. Tuawaike is a fine-looking man, above middle size, and well proportioned, with good features, and an intelligent expression of countenance.

The other great man, Tairoa, is a very different character. He was dressed in a blanket, and knows only a few words of our language. The expression of his countenance is that of a very bad Jew; and all his movements and gestures indicate a mean and shuffling spirit. His complexion is rather a singular one for a Maori, his skin being fairer than most of them, and his hair of a dark brown and curling, whereas, it may be observed, that when a Maori has brown hair it is generally straight. He is a most importunate begger, and, unfortunately for himself, is very fond of rum. Tairoa is a middle-sized man, apparently between forty and fifty years of age.

Having examined Greenwood's Bay, the Deborah proceeded further up the harbour, and anchored about a mile from Quail Island, which page 235is some six or seven miles from the month of Port Cooper. Vessels cannot go any higher than this.

The following morning, two exploring parties set out. Mr. Tuckett, accompanied by Mr. Davison, proceeded to the head of Port Cooper, to find his way by the most level route to the great plain. Mr. Barnicoat, Mr. Wither, and myself, pulled ashore to a small bay on the west side of the harbour, our object being to cross in a direct line the ridge which divides Port Cooper from the plain, and so to make our way to Mr. Deans' station, where we were all to meet.

In the bay in which we landed, we found two or three miserable primitive Maori cabins, inhabited by half-a-dozen helpless old creatures and a few diseased children—forming a pa named Rapaki. Leaving this pa, we passed through a very pretty bush, which runs up nearly to the top of the range, fringing the rills of water which descend from its sides; we had then a very steep ascent to encounter, and soon reached the summit, at an elevation of, I should guess, about 800 feet, from which we looked down upon the waters of Port Cooper, and over the broken and rugged country to the east of it; but to the westward we had a magnificent view. An immense plain, apparently perfectly level, stretched away below our feet, extending in a direct line westward at least thirty miles; and, to the southward, as far as the eye could reach, backed by a far remote chain of grand snowy summits. The general colour of the plain was yellow, indicating its being covered with dry grass; and several streams with tortuous courses marked themselves upon its surface by the silver glitter of their waters. With the exception of one or two groves of black, formal pines, of inconsiderable size, this immense plain seemed destitute of timber. Looking towards the north, we saw the sea breaking in long lines of surf upon the low sandy shore which connects the Peninsula with the mainland; beyond which, our view extended over ranges rising one behind the other, backed by the distant Kaikoras. To the southward, our view was incomplete. The ridge next to the one on which we stood was in the way, and prevented our seeing the ninety-mile beach, as the coast south of the Peninsula is named, and the large freshwater lake called the Waihola, which is only separated from the sea by a narrow bank of shingle. We could see, however, enough to satisfy us that the form of Banks' Peninsula, as laid down in the charts, is altogether faulty. Instead of a narrow neck, as represented, the high land of the Peninsula rises at the point of a very obtuse triangle, which is nowhere less in breadth than the Peninsula. The mistake has undoubtedly arisen from the coast line being laid down as seen from the deck of a vessel at some distance off. The land is so low as not to be seen distinctly at a greater distance than two or three miles.

After lingering for some time enjoying the prospect, which, to an eye accustomed to wander over the endless ridges and broken surface of the greater part of New Zealand, was certainly most refreshing, we descended towards the plain by gentle slopes beautifully grassed, and well stocked with anise and sowthistle. The rock here is a dry crumbling basalt, so that both the herbage and the nature of the ground are admirably adapted for the depasturing of sheep. Close to the base of the hills is a canal-looking stream, winding about with many folds—this is the stream named by Messrs. Duppa and Daniell the Serpentine. Its native name is Upawa. For a distance of about two-and-a-half miles in a direct line from the sea, it is navigable for good large boats; but, beyond that, it is shallow; where we crossed it (very little higher) it was knee deep, and rapidly diminishing in depth. page 236Having the same outlet to the sea, is another similar but smaller stream, named the Otakaro, upon the banks of which the Messrs. Deans are located. Both these streams are said to have their source in springs; and are consequently unaffected beyond a few inches, either by the drought of summer or the heaviest rains of winter. The Messrs. Deans' farm is five or six miles from the foot of the hills of the Peninsula. The part of the plain which we crossed in walking to it is uniformly covered with, grass of various sorts, mixed with toi-toi and flax in the moister parts, and, in some places, thickly dotted over with the ti-ti. The grass, generally speaking, is a tufty wire grass of a very dry nature, and not relished by stock; but there are finer grasses between these tufts, though sparingly diffused, as well as an abundance of a tufty grass of a larger and more succulent species which I know from experience in this settlement is greedily eaten both by cattle and horses. I should not suppose such pasture to be capable at present of supporting a large amount of stock per acre; but I am satisfied that, by being fed down, its value would greatly improve, and a turf of a much better character rapidly be produced. In the afternoon we reached the Messrs. Deans' station, and were most hospitably received and entertained. We found them living in an excellent weather-board verandah house, with large and substantial out-buildings, and surrounded with abundance of the comforts and necessaries, as well as many of the luxuries of life.

The next morning Mr. Tuckett arrived and reported the easy practicability of forming a road from the head of Port Cooper to the plain. He and Mr. Davison had passed a most uncomfortable night, without fire or shelter, in clothes saturated with water, from their having waded across some streams and fallen into others.

After breakfast, we walked to the principal river flowing to the northward. It is about nine miles distant in a westerly direction from the hills of the Peninsula. Its native name is Waimakaridi, which signifies cold and angry water, and it well deserves its title. In size, it appeared to me about twice as large as the Waimea, and, like this stream, not confined to any regular bed. Its current is rapid, and it divides into numerous branches, flowing over gravelly shallows, and enclosing islands covered with a jungle of tu-tu and toi-toi. But the most singular thing about it is that its waters, even in the finest summer weather, are said to be always turbid; and this certainly was the case when we saw it—for it was then of such a muddy white colour, that the stones at the bottom could not be seen beyond a depth of a few inches. I looked in vain among the pebbles of its bed for the explanation of this, finding only pieces of blue transition slates, conglomerates, and a few fragments of old igneous rocks and jaspers. The probability is, that in some part of its course it passes through a district in which soft white clays abound, which are not of sufficient consistence to bear the action of the water, but at once diffuse themselves in it. Near its mouth the river is said to be broad, still, and deep, and on its western side are several large groves of wood. The only natives on the north end of the plain, about twelve in number, reside there, having a pa named Kaiapoe. In fine weather its mouth is said to be accessible for vessels of small burden.

The day was not very favourable for a distant view, but looking westward we could distinguish several ranges of low hills at the foot of the great wall of mountains; and where the coast begins to trend away to the northward, there seemed to me a large extent of country of moderate elevation. The hills in this direction, by Mr. Deans' account, are covered with grass, and a district more or less available page 237stretches along the coast in a northerly direction, nearly as far as Lookers-on Bay.

The character of the part of the plain we walked over towards the river was the same as that we had traversed the day before—uniformly grassy, with fern only in a very few spots; but, in returning, we had an opportunity of observing that a great breadth of it, now quite bare, must, at one time, have been covered with forest. Numerous roots and stumps still remaining in the ground, blackened by fire, and holes where others have decayed out, prove this fact incontestably. The scanty groves which still remain are encircled by withered and blackened stumps; and, if nothing be done for their preservation, will, in a few years, be entirely consumed. Each conflagration running up to the edge of the wood, sets fire to trees previously dead and half consumed, and kills and blackens others still living, to a certain distance back. These, in the next summer's fires, readily burn, and dry up and kill those further in. In this manner, the forests are gradually encroached upon, and wasted away; and it is thus that we find nothing but stunted fern or grass upon many hills and plains, which, I feel convinced, were at one time covered with primeval forest.

As regards the agricultural capabilities of the Port Cooper plain, the soil is a light and easily worked loam, well suited, I should imagine, for potatoes, oats, barley, turnips, and similar crops—hardly stiff enough for wheat. This applies, however, only to the part of it which we saw, for further south, where there is much wet land, a more clayey soil will probably be met with. Whether it would yield crops plentifully at once, without fallowing or manure, is doubtful; for it is certain that almost every year the plain has been subjected to the same impoverishing burning of its vegetation, which, in my opinion, has impaired the fertility of large districts in New Zealand. But, with the immense facilities which it offers for breeding stock, this is a difficulty which would soon be obviated, while, with the genial climate which this country enjoys, the effect of manure is probably greater than in most other parts of the world.

As to its adaptation for a settlement on the system at present pursued by the New Zealand Company, there is one great and insuperable drawback—the want of wood. A large body of immigrants suddenly thrown upon it—with everything to do for themselves, and all the difficulties of early settling—with the ruinously high rate of wages and provisions which necessarily results from such a combination of circumstances, would find their whole means and time consumed in procuring one of the first of necessaries, viz., fuel to cook their food—setting aside what they might require for building and fencing. With the exception of one or two insignificant groves on the plain, there is no timber nearer than the valleys of the Peninsula, from whence it would have to be carted at a great expense, or brought in boats by a precarious water-carriage. The distress and ruin which would result from such a state of things need not be pointed out; and the colonists of New Edinburgh may well congratulate themselves that they have escaped from it. Port Cooper must be settled upon a different system. It will not do to attempt to transport a portion of society entire to it from the mother-country, as the landing of some thousand individuals upon a wilderness coast has been termed, with all their helplessness and all their wants, without any of their resources and productions. There never has been a more monstrous piece of quackery than this perpetrated. I do not deny that it may be the most rapid way of colonising a country; but, under the most favourable circumstances, it page 238must always be attended with an amount of misery and ruin which no benefits of emigration or colonisation can ever outbalance. The resources of Port Cooper will be best developed by persons of considerable capital—each having a range of a good many thousand acres, and thus being enabled to combine the rearing of stock with tillage. Such settlers should be able to wait for a time for their profits; and to bear the expense necessarily arising from the scarcity of timber; and if soon after commencing operations, they were to plant the forest trees of our native country—the oak, beech, and larch—in a very few years there would be abundance of wood, and they would be in possession of landed property which, in point of climate and fertility, could hardly be surpassed. But I can fancy no situation more helpless or discouraging than that of a community of small means placed upon little patches of 10-acre or even 50-acre sections—thus prevented from availing themselves of the principal natural advantage of the country—its pasture and expending the greater part of their time, labour and money in a constant struggle to procure firewood enough to cook their dinners.

Mr. Tuckett's original intention was to have walked from Banks' Peninsula to Otago—in which walk several of our party were to have accompanied him. But so much difficulty was experienced in procuring native guides and bearers, and when at length found, they were so extortionate in their demands, insisting, among other things, that they should be paid beforehand, that the intention was at length abandoned.

On the 11th, we left Port Cooper. The weather, during our stay there, was on the whole fine—calm with the exception of one day, when it blew from the northward; and we had one day of soft southerly rain. But, during the whole time that we were in sight of Banks' Peninsula—a period of ten days—with the exception of the first evening, its upper part was constantly veiled in mist. Whether this was the rule or the exception, of course it is impossible to say from so short an experience.

On the large plain, from what I learnt, the climate appears to be a good deal like our own.

The summer is said to be very warm, with much bright weather, and less rain than could be desired; and the frosts of winter are sharp. This is, in fact, what is generally observed on large open levels; the thermometer is higher in summer and lower in winter, than in countries of irregular surface; at the same time, within the twenty-four hours its range is greater. The frosts, as might be expected, set in sooner on the Port Cooper plain than to the northward. A fortnight before we arrived, there had been a frost which withered the potato stalks At Otago, on the other hand, which we did not reach till the 24th of April, though so much further south, and later in the season, we found the potatoes still green and flourishing. It thus appears that the frost set in at Port Cooper at least a month sooner than at Otago. But at Otago, the potatoes which we saw were growing on wooded banks. On the lower and level districts of the country intended for New Edinburgh, I have little doubt that there was frost quite as soon as at Port Cooper.

The prevalent winds, we were informed by Mr. Deans, are north-easterly, which bring the finest weather; from the N.W. it blows hardest, and the S.W. is the rainy quarter. Snow sometimes falls, but never lies throughout the day.

After leaving Port Cooper, we saw very little more of Banks' Peninsula. Light contrary winds detained us in its vicinity for some days; but the weather was uniformly thick—at least a heavy mist page 239always hung over the upper part of the land. We passed by Pigeon Bay, in which we saw the Government brig lying at anchor, and several other deep wooded bays, in which probably good shelter might be found. Towards its extremity, the Peninsula presents to the sea steep and lofty cliffs of a reddish colour, with intervening openings; but we did not advance far enough to see the mouth of the harbour of Akaroa.

When we had rounded the Peninsula, and stood to the southward, we were out of sight of land. On the 14th in the afternoon, we stood in till within six or eight miles of the shore, about thirty miles north of Moiraki. The weather was still misty, but we could see a large extent of low, sloping land, apparently grassy, with high hills in the back ground. The next day was clearer, and we had a good view of the coast a few miles further south. To the north, high mountains white with snow were visible a long way inland, while the low, level country in front of them at their feet could not be seen, so that they appeared to rise from the sea. Immediately opposite us was a pleasant grassy looking country, backed, at a distance of perhaps six miles or rather more from the sea, by a range of hills very similar to those which skirt the East Waimea, at the base of which and in its valleys there was abundance of wood. To the south of us a low beach stretched away below the horizon, and behind it were low hills, most of them with long, level, table-like tops. This platform appearance was very general, so as to give many little elevations the shape of fortifications with level summits and escarped sides. The surface growth, as well as we could observe it through our telescopes, seemed luxuriant, and the whole country was thickly dotted over with the ti-ti.

The following day we had a breeze from the N.E., with which we stood to the southward, skirting at a distance of five or six miles along the beach, which presents to the sea a low but steep wall of a whitish colour, above which the land seems as level as a table for many miles back, when it rises in hills of easy ascent. As we were going along in this manner at a capital rate, all of a sudden we got into white water; the lead was hove, and I think five fathoms was got. This continued for several miles, the water as looked down upon having quite a chalky colour, when it as suddenly ceased, the blue water meeting the white without the two blending into one another in the smallest degree. It was curious to observe that the wake of the vessel was of the ordinary colour of the sea, so that it seemed as if we left a long black train behind us, which gradually melted away into the uniform white in little circular eddies. This proved that the colour of the water was not dependent upon any white substance suspended in it, but upon the colour of the bottom, for when the rays proceeding upwards from the bottom were broken and bent out of their course by the agitation of the water in the wake of the vessel, the ordinary colour of the sea showed itself. We afterwards learnt that this white shoal is opposite the mouth of a river called the Waitaki, which is said to be of great size and very rapid, as, indeed, its name implies, "taki" in the south being the same word as tangi in the north, and meaning, I believe, rapid. If the waters of this river, like those of the Waimakaridi, in the northern part of the plain, are of a muddy white, the formation of an extensive shoal of the same colour will easily be accounted for; and I think it very probable that this is the case. When intending to have walked from Port Cooper to Otago, we had heard a good deal about this river, the Waitaki. On its banks a few natives live, almost the only inhabitants of the plain. It is nowhere fordable, according to page 240their account, and is too rapid to admit of canoes being used upon it —that is to say, it would cost great exertion to bring a canoe up against the current. The method of crossing is upon a mogi, which is a floating body, somewhat in the shape of a boat, made of bundles of bulrushes tied together, and strengthened by the flowering stem of the flax, called koradi. These rude boats are constructed where the materials are convenient, some of them of sufficient size to carry several persons. But, before the opposite bank is reached, the rapidity of the stream has carried the mogi and its freight a considerable way down. To bring it back again to the original starting place would be too much trouble: accordingly, the mogi is abandoned to the stream, and a fresh one must be made for the next traveller who wishes to cross the Waitaki. About sunset, we were opposite a bluff headland of inconsiderable height, which seems to form the limit of the plain to the southward. This headland is about ten miles north of the reef which is laid down on most of the maps —accurately enough, I believe. Moiraki is nearly opposite this reef.

The weather threatening, and night coming on, we stood out to sea. The wind soon increased to a gale, with rain, and we spent far from a comfortable night. The following day was calm, with a thick mist, and a high cross-sea running, which rolled us about in a furious manner. The next morning, again, the weather was still dull and calm, with a very heavy swell setting in upon the shore, and breaking in magnificent jets of white foam upon the reef to which we were opposite—the extent of which was thus distinctly made manifest to us. Mr. Tuckett went ashore here to examine the country and walk down to Waikouaite. In the afternoon, the weather cleared up beautifully, and afforded us a good view. The surface of the country appeared broken up and hilly, though not mountainous, with several very remarkable peaks, like old volcanic cones. On the flanks of these, and about their bases, were extensive patches of wood, but the general character of the country was open, and more or less grassy.

On the 19th, a most lovely day, we anchored at Waikouaite. This is an open bay or roadstead, about a mile and a half across, sheltered from all points but the east or north-east. When it blows from these quarters, vessels can run to Otago. The north head of the bay is a grassy bluff with a considerable patch of timber on its face. On the top of this, Mr. Jones' farm is very prettily situated; and he informed us that he had 600 acres inclosed there. The opposite head is a steep, rocky peninsula, composed of a soft yellow sandstone, having the appearance from the sea of a small rocky island. The bottom of the bay is a smooth sandy beach, behind which the land gradually rises, with open grassy slopes, up to hills not much more than a mile inland, the sides of which are partly naked, partly clothed with bush of a very beautiful description.

Shortly after anchoring, we went on shore to look about us. The little harbour in which the boats of the whalers lie in security, and from which they sally forth in pursuit of their game, is under the rocky peninsula I have mentioned, and is formed by the mouth of the Waikouaite river—an inconsiderable stream, which expands in its lower part into a large salt-water lagoon, which discharges itself into and fills itself again from the sea by a narrow passage; so that, in some respects, it is a miniature of our harbour. As we entered it, we passed the shears by which the whales are hoisted up in the operation of stripping them of their blubber. Further on was a large shed, in which the oil is tried out, greasy in the extreme, and smelling like a page 241thousand filthy lamps. The whole beach was strewed with gigantic fragments of the bones of whales, and flocks of gulls, cormorants, and other sea-birds, and savage-looking pigs, prowled about to pick up the refuse. The place altogether, like other whaling-stations, is a picture of the most perfect neglect of anything like order or neatness. The huts in which the men live —rickety things—are stuck about in all directions, and not one of them possesses a garden. There seemed, however, to be abundance of poultry, as well as dogs and pigs; and another common feature of whaling-stations was also to be seen there in perfection, in the shape of a variety of dirty native women—half-dressed in tawdry European clothes, with a proportionate number of half-caste children.

The Europeans living at Waikouaite amount, I was informed, to about 100 individuals—most of them engaged in whaling—a considerable number in the employment of Mr. Jones, on his farm—some farming on their own account.

There is a Maori pa also at Waikouaite, but it is a very poor one; the warries are small and filthy. The natives resident there average about 120 in number. They are a very well disposed, inoffensive set of people; and, by the praiseworthy exertions of the Rev. Mr. Watkins, the Wesleyan clergyman lately resident there, have been instructed in the doctrines of the Christian religion, and in reading and writing, to the full, as well as in any part of New Zealand which I have visited. The mission has been established there for four years; and is the only station south of Cape Campbell with which I am acquainted. Mr. Watkins' labours have not been confined to Waikouaite, but have extended from Moiraki, thirty miles north of it, to the Bluff, about 130 miles to the southward. Notwithstanding the short time which has elapsed since its establishment, the progress made by the natives has been surprising; and is a striking proof among many others of the aptitude of the New Zealander for instruction, and of the eagerness with which he embraces it.

The great mainspring of activity at Waikouaite, and in these southern parts generally, is Mr. John Jones, of Sydney, who has, for many years, been engaged in the New Zealand oil trade. Most of the fisheries thereabouts are fitted out by him; and he is the principal purchaser and exporter of the oil caught along the coast. Mr. Jones is also a considerable landowner—the maximum grant having been recommended in his case by the commissioner; and he possesses, also, a large quantity of live stock; as much, he told us, as 100 horses, 200 head of cattle, and 2,000 sheep.

Having called upon this gentleman, he very politely mounted several of our party on horses, and we proceeded to visit his farm. The soil which he has selected for his agricultural operations appeared to me very unequal: a large portion of it rather sandy, but, where the trees had been cleared away, of a rich loamy quality; and some of the potatoes which we saw growing in this soil were exceedingly fine. The wheat crop, we understood, had not been good—probably from insufficient tillage and dirty seed; a large proportion of the produce turned out smutty, Mr. Jones, however, is proceeding with great vigour. He has erected a most substantial large barn and other outhouses, and a threshing and winnowing-machine, worked by horses. From the eminence on which we stood, we had a very good view of the district; the surface of which, though not high, is irregular and confused. Much of it consists of table-topped ridges and low hills, but the sides of these are very steep—a circumstance which would present a great obstacle to the formation of roads, and interfere with page 242the general accessibility of the country. A few very nice farms of moderate size might be laid out about Waikouaite; but there is no extent of agricultural country. What there is, however, is well diversified with timber—one of the first and most important wants of a settler. There is a considerable extent of grazing land. The grass, however, is inferior in quality; and there is a larger proportion of fern than further north. On the lowest, and apparently the best soils, the fern reigns undisputed, or rivalled only by a very coarse broad-bladed grass; at the same time it reaches to the summits of some of the most fertile-looking hills, though its possession of the soil there is contested by a greater variety of vegetation.

The natives, as elsewhere in New Zealand, have cultivated the bush-land, and are further advanced in agriculture than their countrymen hereabouts. Their potatoes are excellent, much superior to any native potatoes I have seen; and almost every Maori farmer has a patch of wheat, which seems to have succeeded very well with them. Altogether, between the natives and the white men—exclusive of Mr. Jones' farm—there may be forty or fifty acres in cultivation at Waikouaite.

In the woods, I observed fewer pines than in this part of the country, and more laurel looking trees. Perhaps the commonest tree is one that I was not aware of having seen before. It grows to a considerable size, but in a very twisted, irregular shape. Its leaf is of a smooth, glossy, green colour, about the size of the leaf of a Portugal laurel, but more heart-shaped. The native name of the tree is kapuka. It is commonly called broad-leaf by the white men there. The kohai is also a very common tree in the woods, and grows to a large size.

Mr. Tuckett arrived after three days' walk, and highly pleased with the country he had seen. He had been twelve miles to the north of Moiraki; and had examined the country between that place and Waikouaite —a distance of thirty miles. He brought with him some specimens of coal, which is found in considerable abundance not far from Moiraki. In outward appearance it seemed to me very similar to the coal of Massacre Bay.

On the 23rd of April, the Deborah stood across to Otago—a distance of about ten miles. By land it is fifteen, but, from the nature of the country, it is considered a good day's walk. The coast about the entrance of Otago has a forbidding appearance. High and steep cliffs of a reddish coloured rock abut upon the sea, sloping off above in rugged lines of forest. On the maps the entrance to the harbour is most inaccurately laid down—the heads being represented as bearing north and south of one another. The fact is that they bear about east and west, and the harbour runs in a straight line south for about thirteen miles. The western head is the highest of the two, and is very bold. At the base of the wall of rock which forms it lies a large field of white sand, which is seen a long way off, and may be a guide to the harbour.

The eastern head is also bold, but not nearly so high, and more rounded above. It is called Tairoa's Head, and the entrance to the harbour is immediately beneath it. Strictly speaking, Otago may be called a bar harbour, but it hardly merits this stigma. A sandbank, with shallow water over it, runs off from the western head, stretching across to the eastern, near which, however, it leaves a channel in which there is never less than three fathoms of water. With a very heavy swell the sea breaks right across this shoal, but not in ordinary weather in the channel. I am not aware what the width of the channel is, but I believe it is narrow, and several vessels have page 243touched in entering the harbour. When the entrance has been properly sounded and becomes well known, this probably will not take place. Having passed through this channel, the harbour presents the appearance of a deep bay, terminating by a sandy beach. This appearance is caused by a dry sand-spit, which, about a mile within the heads, runs off from the western shore; but, as you advance, an oblique passage between the point of this spit and the eastern shore is observed, and once round this you are perfectly land-locked, and in water as smooth as a mill-pond. Above this, at high tides, the harbour presents a beautiful sheet of calm water, surrounded by an amphitheatre of wooded hills; but the full extent of it is not seen. At the distance of six miles from the heads, a projecting promontory and a couple of islands divide it as it were into two, and intercept the view. But, when you pass between these islands, another sheet of water seven miles long opens up, surrounded in the same manner by hills, uniformly covered by trees, which clothe them from their summits to their bases, where they hang over and are reflected in the water.

The distance between the heads may be about a mile and a half, and the harbour preserves nearly the same width the whole way up.

The available water for vessels bears an exceedingly small proportion to the area covered at high tide. At low water, a great extent of mud flat is laid bare, upon which large flocks of wild ducks, red bills, and other aquatic birds find food. The deep channel is then seen to flow through these like a river, at first (that is to say, towards the mouth of the harbour) near the eastern shore, but soon crossing-over to beneath the bold wooded slopes of the western side, under which it continues up to the islands. Between these, in consequence of the narrowing of the channel there, and the greater rush of water, there is a depth of twelve and fourteen fathoms. The upper harbour, also, exhibits at low water extensive sand-banks and flats, with deeper water near its shores on either side. The natives say that these channels have only sufficient water for small schooners; and, from what we saw in our boating excursions, their account appears to be correct.

Notwithstanding the shoal banks which occupy so great an extent of the area of Port Otago, there is sufficient room for a great number of vessels to lie conveniently and in perfect security; and, in all respects, it must be pronounced an excellent harbour. Up to the very head of it, there is, at all events, sufficient draught of water for very large boats or barges, and, by means of the regular ebb and flow of the tide, with very little labour they will be able to ascend or return, and thus afford great facilities of transport for heavy articles, or country produce between the district intended for survey and the place where vessels will probably anchor.

The principal drawback to Otago, as a harbour for a settlement, is the absence of a good site for a town, and, in this respect, it labours under the same disadvantage as Port Cooper. The most eligible locality with reference to anchorage is undoubtedly where the principal white residents have at present settled, viz., on the eastern shore, about a mile and a half within the heads. But the ground available for building on here is not more than perhaps twenty or thirty acres; and a great part of it consists of immense sand-banks like drifts of snow, without a blade of vegetation upon them, and shifting with every wind, so that you may see cottages half-buried, and garden fences completely overtopped. Further up on the same side is a flat of two or three hundred acres, but, in like manner, it is very sandy, page 244and the water in front of it, for the distance of a mile, is exceedingly shallow.

Mr. Tuckett has taken up his residence upon a little peninsula, which projects from the western shore towards the islands. The anchorage here is exceedingly convenient; but there cannot be more than 100 acres of suitable building ground in that locality. In another respect it has a drawback—high wooded hills rise immediately behind it, so that in winter, soon after midday, the sun is shut out, and it is cold and damp. At the head of the harbour there is an abundance of land upon which a town might be conveniently built; but, as I have pointed, out above, vessels could not approach within many miles of it. It will probably be found necessary to have the bulk of the town in that situation, with the commercial part of it on one of the limited sites in the vicinity of the best anchorage.

We found at Otago about twenty-five white residents, generally speaking living in good substantial cottages, and cultivating to a small extent. The potatoes grown by them are of excellent quality. I saw also some very good barley, but the wheat was almost universally smutty. The land which they have cultivated is bush land, lightly timbered, upon rather steep slopes.

Some years ago there was a whaling-station at Otago, belonging to a mercantile house in Sydney, but it has been abandoned for some time; not, however, I believe, from want of success, but in consequence of the commercial embarrassments in that colony. Great numbers of bones of whales strewed about on the beach, and a sea wall built entirely of their heads, attest that a considerable number must have been killed.

The weather, while we lay in Otago, was most beautiful. The sky, a great part of the time, was without a cloud, and not a breeze ruffled the surface of the water, which reflected the surrounding wooded slopes, and every sea-bird that floated upon it, with mirror-like accuracy. For some hours after sunrise, the woods resounded with the rich and infinitely varied notes of thousands of tuis and other songsters. I never heard anything like it before in any part of New Zealand. It completely agreed with Captain Cook's description of the music of the wooded banks of Queen Charlotte's Sound.

During this fine weather, we amused ourselves by boating about and visiting different parts of the harbour. Though everywhere beautiful, its scenery is all alike—steep wooded banks, with projecting rocky promontories, enclosing those beautiful little bays with sandy beaches, so characteristic of New Zealand.

Mr. Tuckett walked from Waikouaite to Otago. He departed from the usual route, looking for an available line of road. The country he found to oppose great obstacles to this, and he seemed doubtful if it could be accomplished without considerable expense.

On the 29th of April, Mr. Tuckett and I started to walk to Molineux Bay, sixty miles south of Otago, with the intention of seeing as much of the interjacent country as circumstances would allow. We pulled in Mr. Tuckett's whale-boat to the head of Otago Harbour, where we encamped for the first night, and not with much comfort, for a heavy drizzling rain had set in. The distance from the mouth of Port Otago to its head is about thirteen miles, while the head of the harbour is separated from the sea by a line of low sand-hills and swamps, not more than a few hundred yards broad. A peninsula is thus detached, of a triangular shape, the apex of which is Cape Saunders. As far as we could see, looking clown upon this peninsula, it appeared uniformly covered with wood, and though generally rather page 245steep and broken, affording many long and gentle slopes, which would offer no impediment on the score of steepness to agriculture. At the very head of the harbour the country is open and grassy. There are some exceedingly pretty spots here, and more than usually picturesque combination of bush and open land.

Everything being packed up and arranged, we started the following morning, with a clear sky overhead and the ground white with hoar frost. We had three Maorics with us, as guides and carriers—one of whom only was a southern native; of the other two, one came from Taranaki, the other from Porirua—calling himself a brother of Hiko, of high descent.

Our course was about south-west, and led us by an easy enough ascent to the summit of a rounded range of hills, at an elevation of 1,000 feet, after having walked some four or five miles. From this point we had an extensive view. We looked down upon a plain stretching away to the southward for at least twenty miles, with an average breadth of five or six, bounded on all sides by naked hills of rounded outline. This plain, we learnt from the natives, was called the Tairii. Its general colour was a brownish yellow, broken only by the black hue of one or two patches of wood, and by the glitter of water, which seemed in some places to form lagoons, in others to wind about with many sinuosities. To the westward we saw a great extent of country of an upland but not mountainous character. Its general level is not very high, but its surface is singularly broken, lying in rollers, or like the sea in a heavy swell. The appearance and colour of this tract of country indicated that it was partly, though not purely grassy. I believe it will be found to be covered with short fern principally, with a considerable sprinkling of grass, anise, flax, &c.

By a rather sudden descent, we reached the plain or valley of Teiari, and estimated our distance from the head of Otago Harbour to be about seven miles. The soil at the upper part of the valley appears exceedingly rich, covered with a dense succulent-looking vegetation of coarse grass, sowthistle, ti-ti, &c. This rich soil is, however, of, very limited extent. Further down the valley, we passed over a few miles of dry, short grass; but, below this it became marshy, and we had a great deal of wading up to our knees, besides crossing many narrow grass-tree swamps, in which an injudicious step often plunged us to a much greater depth. Upon a surface of this sort, it was impossible to walk far or long, so that, after having made a distance of about eight miles, we encamped in a grove of trees, of a few acres in extent, at the foot of the range of hills on the eastern side of the valley.

Next day we did not advance more than about ten miles. A large canal-looking stream of dark peaty water flows close to the base of the hills, appearing to cross over from the western side of the valley, in which direction there are several sheets of water. Our walk was a most fatiguing one; inasmuch as, if we preferred the narrow strip of level land by the side of the river, we had to wade through fern and coarse grass over our heads, to say nothing of swamps—while, if we took to the side of the hills, they were so steep, and the footing so bad, that progression was most fatiguing, and tumbles frequent. The Maories appeared to the full as much inconvenienced as ourselves by the nature of the ground; falling sadly into the rear, and squatting frequently—reminding us of the character in the "Pilgrim's Progress," named by old John isunyan, Ready-to-halt. When we asked them if there was no path, they answered, "There was their highway," pointing to the river; and they told us that no one ever thought of walking page 246where we were, that there was neither profit nor pleasure to be gained by it. In summer, they said, they sometimes came up the river in their boats to fish for eels, and to catch ducks in the moulting season; and from the head of the navigation they walk across to Otago—a distance of about fourteen miles. There is a famous cover for pigs, too, between the upper part of the Teiari valley and the sea. This is a large bush on the upper part of a hill called the saddle-back, which is a very conspicuous object for a great distance round. The whalers come up the river in their boats, and kill great numbers of pigs here, they told us. But, between the point where they leave the river, to reach this pig preserve and the sea, no one ever attempts to walk.

After an uncomfortable bivouac—a good deal of rain having fallen during the night—we trudged on again, still having close upon our right hand the black, sluggish, deep Teiari river, and, on our left, the precipitous grassy banks, with an intervening level space, occasionally only a few yards in width. It was, as yet, a perfect puzzle to me how this large river was to find its way to the sea, for in whichever direction I looked the valley appeared completely surrounded and shut in by hills. But, after we had walked for about an hour this morning, following down its banks in a direction nearly due south, it turned abruptly off at a right angle to the left, or towards the sea, and being joined by a larger stream of the same character from the south-west, the two united—forming a stately deep river, at least 150 yards in width—entered a narrow gorge in the hills, with almost perpendicular sides, descending to the water's edge so steeply as not even to leave footing there for a goat. It was Mr. Tuckett's original intention to have reached Molineux by an inland route, but we now found ourselves in face of a broad and deep river, flowing straight to the sea, which we had no possible means of crossing. There was, accordingly, nothing for it but to climb up the hills on its northern bank, and make our way along the ridges towards its mouth, and that we proceeded to do.

Having gained the summit of these, we had a good view of the Teiari plain, and I have never seen any place which more strongly warrants the supposition of its once having been a lake. It is, in fact, a deep basin-shaped hollow, surrounded on all sides by hills, with the exception of the narrow gorge of which I have spoken; and here the continuity of the range appears to have been broken by one of those violent movements of the strata, which undoubtedly have been frequent in the geological history of New Zealand, and a deep rent has been formed, through which the waters have found an outlet to the sea. About the upper third of the Teiari basin is, in my opinion, available, but the two lower thirds can hardly be called terra firma, being, in fact, an immense grass-tree swamp, through which canals of black sluggish water wind in various directions, and interspersed with stagnant lagoons. And I very much fear that this swamp is not susceptible of being drained, for its level is not above that of the sea. The tide ebbs and flows in the Teiari river for many miles up the valley, and in the lagoons with which it communicates. It is a perfect sea of brown grass-tree tops, only relieved by the occasional green of a flax bush or ti-ti growing along the sides of the canals, where the ground has some consistence. Along the edges, however, of this basin-shaped valley, much valuable land will be found; and the surrounding hills are, generally speaking, well grassed, with a fair sprinkling of anise; but there is a great want of wood in the district. The distance from where we commenced the ascent of the hills over to the sea is about five miles. The surface we found very broken and hilly, with many land-slips on the Teiari side of the range. Towards the sea, the page 247descent is gradual, by long ridges, with steep intervening gullies, generally wooded. The soil here appeared of fine quality, judging from a vegetation of tutu, fern, and flax, &c., so luxuriant that we forced our way through it with difficulty. A cold southerly wind was blowing, with cutting showers of sleet. This, and forcing their way through the bushes, although they followed Mr. Tuckett and myself, made the Maories so miserable, that they said they were ready to cry, and sat down and tore up their calico shirts to make leggings, to defend themselves from the briars. We reached the sea-shore in the afternoon, and took possession of a cave, where we had a very comfortable bivouac, although the frost was keen.

Opposite the mouth of the Teiari river, at the distance of about a quarter of a mile, is a small but lofty island, upon which there is a whaling station. As our Maories refused to accompany us any further, although they had promised to take us to Molyneux, Mr. Tuckett and I crossed over to the island to see what was to be done. Close to where we landed, an enormous whale's head, stripped of its blubber, was anchored, which I mistook for a large rock, and on a projecting ledge the process of trying out was going on, busily, and diffusing a most grateful odour of train oil.We were rushed up a species of wooden railway by a following sea, which thundered into foam about us, a number of men being ready to seize the boat and drag it high and dry. We then ascended a sort of staircase along the edge of a steep cliff, with a rude balustrade to hold on by; and, on a little platform at the top, found a number of grass huts, the habitations of the whalers.

We were here most hospitably entertained by a Mr. Chasland, the head man on the island, while his active Maori wife acquitted herself most respectably of the household duties of cooking and bed-making. Mr. Chasland has been resident for a good many years in the southern parts of New Zealand, engaged in sealing and in the whale fishery. In common with many others similarly engaged, his has been a life of great adventure, hardship, and danger. Upon one occasion he was wrecked upon the Chatham Islands, and made his passage to New Zealand with his fellow survivors in an open boat. He gave us much interesting information about those parts of the coast known as yet only to the sealers; and we had many stories of "moving accidents" of various sorts, and hair-breadth escapes, often encountered in their perilous pursuits.

Our aboriginals at length consented to proceed with us on being paid for the work they had already done, and we set off to make our way by the beach to Molyneux Bay. The distance from the Teiari Island is about thirty miles, but it took us three days to walk it. The first two days, it was a constant scramble over rugged and sharp rocks, fissured by many a deep chasm. Of the country on our right we saw but little; it rises from the water's edge in long ridges, with deep separating gullies, and is clothed with such a dense vegetation of various sorts, that though we sometimes, in despair at the difficulties of our path, turned up to it to seek a better route, we soon gladly returned with torn clothes and panting sides to the naked rocks. I should think that the soil here is fertile, and available for a considerable distance back from the water's edge.

On the third day our walk was of a different character: we had left the rugged and highly inclined strata, and passed over several miles of beach, consisting of small rounded quartz pebbles, of uniform size, of which I took a considerable supply to serve as shot, when we were stopped by a perpendicular line of cliffs, formed by a vertical page 248section of horizonal strata of soft sandstone, at the base of which the immense rollers of the sea broke with a magnificent uproar. The country above these cliffs is perfectly level for a few miles back, and covered with a most luxuriant growth of flax and long coarse grass. Judging from the character of the vegetation, according to the experience which we have of New Zealand soils, I should pronounce this to be of first-rate fertility.

The tide having ebbed, we descended to the base of the cliffs, and walked along a natural pavement formed by the horizontal strata. We were not long in perceiving indications of coal in black streaks in the sandstone, and thin beds of richly bituminous shale; and we picked up several rounded pieces of pure coal cast up by the waves. But, on turning a projected point, we found ourselves in face of a black wall of cliff, which, upon examination, turned out to be pure coal. In thickness, what we saw of it could not be less than eighteen feet, while, as the pavement on which we stood was coal as well, extending out to meet the waves, it was impossible to say how much deeper it went. Mr. Tuckett was of opinion that in quality it was very superior to the ordinary New Zealand coal; but, in this opinion, I could not agree with him, as it appeared to me to have the same conchoidal fracture and resinous lustre as the Massacre Bay coal, as well as that which I have seen from other districts in this country. What was rather remarkable, was its nearness to the surface. Above it lay a bed of about twenty feet of a conglomerate of small quartz pebbles, on the top of which the soil commenced. We were not able to estimate the horizontal extent of the bed. What we saw ranged only for a few hundred yards, disappearing in some small gullies, which at that point intersect the cliffs.

After walking a mile or two further, we stumbled upon an object of equal attraction to the lover of nature. This was an entire and perfectly fresh finback whale, which had apparently been cast upon the beach by the violence of the gale which we had experienced a few days previously. Its skin was very much scratched in places; but, beyond this, we could discover no injury that might have occasioned its death. We estimated its length, by pacing as carefully as we could, to be fifty-seven feet. It is at a glance distinguished from the black or right whale by the fin upon its back, as well as several other peculiarities of structure. Its form is altogether more lengthened and taper; in particular, the head is shallower, with a long snout, in consequence of which the baleen or whalebone is short and of comparatively little value. Its belly, which is white, is fluted by grooves which run from beneath its lower jaw to near the tail. These grooves are of a pale rosy tint. The blubber of this animal is never above a few inches in thickness, and yields but little oil; in consequence of this, and from its great activity and power of rapid movement in the water, it is seldom pursued by the whalers. The animal has been named by Cuvier the Rorqualus Australis, or in English, the Rorqual of the Southern Seas. It is very little known to zoologists; and it is only within a few years that its existence has been ascertained by the scientific. The Rorqual of the Northern Seas, it will be recollected, is the largest creature in existence, attaining sometimes to a length of 120 feet, with a circumference of 40.

A short distance further, and the rising ground, which had hitherto been close upon our right hand, turned off towards the interior; and we had before us the long beach at the bottom of Molyneux Bay, with a large extent of level country behind it. On mounting to the top of some low sand-hills, we came in view of the Molyneux River,—a page 249majestic stream of water about a quarter of a mile broad, deep, with well defined banks, flowing close to us parallel to the sea, with a steady, gentle current. Looking up it we could trace its course through a large extent of alluvial land, by the thick fringe of ti-ti trees upon its banks, and by numerous groves of wood, producing a most picturesque effect. At the distance of about ten miles inland, gentle slopes, apparently grassy, rose to a moderate elevation, behind which no mountains were visible, save in one direction towards the north-west, where the white summits of a very far-distant range showed themselves. The landscape was altogether one of great beauty and unusually rich softness. Following down the banks of the river for a few miles, we fortunately met with a couple of Maories paddling about in a dingay, who put us across it. The schooner was at anchor in the bay, waiting for us; and, as the boat was on shore, we were not long of making our way on board, fully qualified to appreciate the comforts of knives and forks and a good night's rest according to the customs of civilised society. As we had occasion to revisit Molyneux, I shall postpone for the present any remarks I may have to make upon the district.

On the night of the 8th of May, we were obliged, as it commenced blowing, to weigh anchor and stand out to sea. Next morning we were to the southward of Molyneux Bay, opposite a bold rocky coast, behind which is a hilly, though not high country, entirely covered with forest. Mr. Tuckett, Mr. Drake, and myself, went on shore at a whaling station called Tautuki, about twenty miles south of Molyneux. A small river runs into the sea here, forming a boat harbour, which is further protected by a projecting ledge of rock. There are about fifteen men engaged in the fishery here, manning two boats. They live in very good cottages, each man having at least one Maori woman as a helpmate, and most of them have some ground in cultivation. Altogether, there are about ten acres under crop, and the potatoes are of first-rate quality. There is no level land here, but the elevations are gradual and not lofty—many of them table-topped; the slopes on the sides on which the strata crop out are steep, but in the direction of their dip sufficiently gentle. The country is uniformly wooded. I made an excursion into it with my gun to cater for dinner, and succeeded in shooting several ducks and pigeons. In the woods there are not many red and white pines, but a large proportion of rima. A tree, which I have not seen in this part of the country, is also sufficiently abundant there. Its leaf is like the rata, but its stem is clean and cylindrical, of a white colour, a good deal fissured. The native name of it is pokaka, and with the bark of it a black dye is made, which is equal to the dye of the hinau. I may mention also another dye with which I saw flax stained of a rich reddish brown colour at Molyneux. It is obtained from a shrub or small tree named toa-toa, which is said to be rather scarce. There were several trees in the woods besides, which were quite new to me; and I have nowhere seen a larger proportion of tree-ferns, which, considering the latitude, is rather remarkable. We were told that snow sometimes lies on the ground here to the water's edge for a couple of days; and, on one occasion, it had been seen of the depth of fifteen inches.

From Tautuki we proceeded in our whaleboat to Waikawa, about fourteen miles to the southward. The cliffs along the coast are exceedingly grand—the old red sandstone of which the country here is composed cropping out in bold precipices of great height, against which the long southerly roll breaks like thunder, reverberating in the caverns with the noise of distant cannon, and streaming down from page 250their slippery sides like long white hair. The entrance to the harbour of Waikawa is exceedingly narrow, formed by a bold rocky point on one side, and a sandy beach on the other. There is a rock not far from the mouth of it on which the sea breaks, and there are said to be rocks also in the channel. Inside, it expands into a large sheet of shallow water, four or five miles long by about two wide, into which flows the river of the same name. A very strong tide, as might be expected, rushes through the narrow entrance, on which account, as well as others, it is a very unfit place for vessels of any size; although, when there was a whaling station there, a few years ago, several ships entered and left it, I believe, with safety. It is known in Sydney by the name of the Success River—so called after the first vessel which entered it. We had much difficulty in getting in, opposed by the strong current setting out of it, as well as by a violent wind which blew off shore. After straining at our oars for a considerable time with all our might, hardly advancing, sometimes even appearing to recede, we at length, to our great satisfaction, doubled the point, and jumped ashore in smooth water.

The country round Waikawa, like that at Tautuki, consists of wooded hills, there being no level or open land. In the hopes of seeing something better, we made an excursion up the Waikawa river. At the head of the large expanse of tide water it is a sluggish dark brown current, but soon becoming of a more lively character, it flows with a clear stream of the tint into which an angler would long to cast his fly, between perfectly defined high banks, from which the native acacia and the endless variety of New Zealand evergreens bend down till they meet the water. Between the foliage that thus hemmed us in occasional glimpses were obtained of lofty banks of wood brightly illuminated by a brilliant sun, while at every turn of the river as it serpentined about a new landscape disclosed itself, of the same character truly, but still of constant beauty and wild freshness. At some distance ahead of us we heard the fall of water, and soon reached a little cascade of four or five feet in height, the first thing of the kind I have seen in New Zealand. We were not, however, in a humour to be stopped, so, having unloaded the boat, we pulled it up over the fall, and about a mile further came to a second, at least ten feet high. We surmounted this one also and several others, and ascended the river some distance further, until its channel became so broken that to proceed was hopeless. We camped for the night on its banks, in a valley the lower part of which was poor open grass land, the surrounding hills being wooded. Mr. Tuckett ascended one of them, but saw nothing to repay him for his exertion.

Waikawa is totally uninhabited, but the traces of its former occupation by a whaling party are to be seen in old try-pots and oil-casks and bones of whales. There was at one time, I believe, a native settlement there, and their clearings are still to be seen, but it is some years since they inhabited the place. Boisterous weather prevented the schooner from nearing the mouth of the harbour, so that it was the 15th before we got on board, after a long pull out to her.

Proceeding southward, the coast about ten miles from Waikawa becomes perfectly level, and continues so to the Bluff, which is the south-eastern corner of the Middle Island. On the 17th we landed the Rev. Mr. Wöhlers, at Robuki, where he hoped to find a field for the exercise of his benevolent intentions towards the natives. Robuki is a long, low, and fertile island, opposite the mouth of Foveaux's Straits, and is the headquarters of the natives to the southward. Its average population was stated to us at 200 souls; but it fluctuates very much, page 251as the natives are great travellers, and well provided with capital large boats, in which they jaunt about in pursuit of profit or amusement. Everyone to whom we spoke agreed as to the most unaccountable fact of their rapidly diminishing in numbers.

Having left Robuki, we stood across to the entrance of Foveaux's Straits. On their northern side is the Bluff, having the appearance of a pyramid-shaped hill, three or four hundred feet high, rising at the termination of the long and level beach which I have mentioned already. On the southern side of the straits Stewart's Island rises with steep wooded slopes, to an elevation of 2,600 feet. This was the height found by a trigonometrical calculation –guessing, of course, at the length of the base. The highest land in the island is immediately above the straits. To the southward, it gradually sinks down in a wedge shape, becoming low and level.

The level land to the north of the Bluff is not visible from the deck of a vessel at a greater distance than a few miles, and appears to extend a long way into the interior. Distant ranges of mountains are seen behind it, the most remote densely white with snow, and of a most rugged and fantastic outline. Between Waikawa and the Bluff, a distance of thirty miles, and about sixteen miles from the latter place, is the mouth of the To-toes river, on the banks of which there is said to be a great deal of fine land. The proper name of the river is the Mataura, and of its mouth, Owi; but a native of the name of Totoe having lived there, with whom the whalers were familiar, they used to call it Totoe's Place; until at length the name Totoes became current both among the whites and the Maories. The river is a large one, and flows through a large tract of low country, which extends in a northerly or north-westerly direction behind the wooded hills which abut on the coast south of Molyneux, and communicates with the low country which extends inland behind that bay. Three days' journey up the river in a whaleboat is the native settlement of Tuturau, a land of plenty according to the accounts of the natives, possessing a most fertile soil, and waters containing an inexhaustible supply of eels. We had planned an expedition to this place, when most unfortunately severe weather set in, which prevented it. Tuturau possesses also a certain celebrity, as being the most southerly point gained by a body of northern natives belonging to Rauparaha's tribe, who made their way by land to that place, with the intention of attacking the southern natives, of whom Tuawaike is chief. I could not learn where they commenced walking, whether it was from the shores of Cook's Straits or from Port Cooper. However, according to the native who told us the story with great enthusiasm and much pantomime, they were two years upon their journey, and many of them perished from cold and hunger. To support life, on some occasions they were obliged to kill several children and eat them. At length they reached Tuturau, a dwindled and enfeebled band, but strong enough to commence an indiscriminate massacre of the few inhabitants of that village. Having accomplished this, they stepped into their places, and fatigued with all the hardships and dangers they had encountered, they seemed for a time, at least, to have forgotten the original object of their expedition, and to desire repose. But one native, whom they were not aware of, had made his escape, and travelling, as may be supposed, with the utmost speed to Robuki, communicated the intelligence of what had happened, and spread the alarm that Rauparaha was coming down upon them by this most unlooked-for route. Robuki was in a ferment, an immediate gathering of warriors and burnishing of arms took place; and red ochre was at a premium. They crossed to the main-page 252land in their canoes, and made the best of their way to Tuturau. At dawn of day, one fine summer morning, after a great deal of creeping, skulking, and circumspection, they had completely surrounded the village—themselves quite invisible. The principal man among their enemies was discovered asleep in the verandah outside his hut. Some slight noise fell upon his quick ear, and he started up. He was immediately shot. The others rushed confusedly out of the huts, but were picked off by their securely posted enemies. Several were taken prisoners, and among these was Paramatta, now residing at Wakapuaka. In his great clemency, Bloody Jack spared his life, but cut off both his ears, and made a slave of him. To return to our geography: Having rounded the Bluff headland, the coast trends away to the N. W., skirted by bare rocky hills, similar to that which forms the Bluff, for five or six miles. It then turns in to the New River, and is succeeded by a sandy beach nearly twenty miles long, at the western extremity of which is Jacob's River, the intervening country being quite low, though diversified by very gentle undulations. To the westward of Jacob's River, high rocky capes appear to succeed one another till lost in the blue distance.

On the 18th of May, we entered the mouth of the New River, with a light westerly breeze, and, ascending about a mile, cast anchor. There is plenty of water in the channel, but the passage is narrow, with a strong tide. Vessels cannot go much higher than we were, as the water soon shoals. The native name of the mouth of the New River is Omawe. It is a bleak and uninviting-looking place. On one hand (to the southward) you have high banks covered with scrub; on the other hand is an extensive shoal, upon which the breakers are constantly tumbling and foaming; and behind this are the white sand-hills which skirt the low coast between the New River and Jacob's River. With a Maori for our guide, Mr. Wither, Mr. Wilkinson, and myself, set off in the ship's jolly-boat to ascend the river as high as we could. After pursuing an easterly course for a couple of miles, we turned round to the northward, but could see nothing like a river —the sheet of water being much more like a large lagoon some miles across, bounded by a low forest country. We afterwards learnt that the river divides into two branches: the one which contains the principal body of fresh water is the Oreti. It turns off to the left as you ascend, runs parallel to the coast for some miles, and then strikes into the interior. We missed the mouth of this branch, and ascended the other, named the Waiopai, which is little else than a large mud flat, covered at high water in its lower parts, but, when the tide is out, exposing an immense surface of brown rushes, intersected by stagnant canals. At a distance of about twelve miles from the sea, this expanse of water terminates, a low forest country closing upon it, and supplying it with streams of inconsiderable size from different directions. Weather of the most boisterous character detained us in the same place for three days. The wind was so violent, accompanied by heavy rain, occasionally sleet, that it was impossible to make any use of our boat; and, from the same cause, we saw but little of the surrounding country. It is mostly wooded, with clear spaces here and there, covered with a poor vegetation of wire-grass, and nearly, though not entirely level. It seemed to me that the worst soil was near the water's edge, and that it improved as you advanced inland. At a height of a good many feet above the level of the water, and at some distance from its present margin, there are low sand-hills, and other traces of the sea occupying a lower position at present with reference to the land than it formerly has had. Between the present and what page 253we assume to have been the former water level, the soil seems very poor, and thus a belt of barren land skirts the sea, and also in places extends into the forest in open glades, which are universally the lowest ground, as evident by the streamlets which meander through them. But there is a great deal of fine, gently undulating forest land here, and the soil in all situations, where from superior level it has not been removed by former action of water, indicated fertility.

While we lay in the New River, Mr. Tuckett made excursions to the Bluff and to Jacob's River. Not having seen the Bluff Harbour, except from a distance, I can say little about it. It was universally admitted to be a fine harbour—secure and capacious. A great extent of it is a mud flat, dry at low tides, very different from the extensive sheet of water which at other times it presents. The waters of the New River and of the Bluff approach within four or five miles of one another, the intervening country being low, poor and swampy. Jacob's River, about twenty miles west of the New River, is said to contain a very considerable body of fresh water, but it is not accessible for anything larger than very small schooners. The coast between the New River and Jacob's River is a sandy beach of regular outline, forming a large, and rather deep bight. The indentation on the old maps in this situation, at the head of which is marked the Knowsley River, bears more resemblance to the reality, than the bulging sweep of the coast line here in the most recent maps—that attached to Dr. Dieffenbach's work. In the old maps, too, it may be observed that above this indentation is marked, "Lagoons navigable for large ships." The natives still tell of inland lakes, which may be the origin of this. To the west of Jacob's River, a river is said to flow into the sea opposite Centre Island, which has its source at no very great distance in an inland lake. This lake, by the Maori accounts, is like the sea, extending a great distance to the northward, within a very few days' walk of Jackson's Bay, on the west side of the island.

From the high land at the Bluff, or above the mouth of the New River, in fine weather the view must be most extensive and striking. Unfortunately, during the ten days we lay at anchor, we had not one day during which the horizon was uniformly clear, and could obtain only partial glimpses of the landscape. In the foreground looking to the north, the eye ranges over a great extent of level country between Jacob's River and the New River, partly open, partly forest. On the right hand is seen the sheet of water of the Bluff, and the level district extending to the north of it till it rises by gentle ascents into the wooded hills above Waikawa. But behind the coast in this direction, the level country sinks down below the horizon, or in the clearest weather the faint blue summits of a far distant range are dimly visible. Turning to the west, a mountainous country rises behind the level land, with all the magnificent features of forests, precipices, and stupendous and fantastic summits densely white with snow that never melts.

From what we were told, the climate about the Bluff is inclement. Gales of wind are frequent, accompanied by heavy and lasting rains. The cold is said never to be very severe.

On the 28th we dropped down with the tide, and stood over for Paterson's River, in Stewart's Island. The width of the straits is not more than fifteen or sixteen miles, but the distance to Paterson's River, which is not at their narrowest part, is considerably greater. The numerous islands laid down in the maps in the middle of the straits, rendering their navigation apparently intricate and dangerous, have no existence. In fact, Foveaux's Straits are perfectly open and safe. page 254But at a short distance from Stewart's Island, there are many little rocky islets, between which there sweeps a strong tide, so that the approach to Paterson's River is dangerous to a stranger, and perhaps to every one, unless there is a breeze which will give command of the vessel. Paterson's River, called also by the whalers the Neck, is a first-rate harbour, and a very pretty place. The numerous islands which lie off its mouth, and its deeply indented shores, form as pleasing a combination of water, rock, and wooded slopes as can well be pictured. But, excepting the harbour, there is little about the place calculated to be valuable or useful. The soil seems good, and yields excellent potatoes: but the surface of the country is too broken to be available for agriculture. Messrs. Barnicoat and Davison made an expedition up the river which flows into the harbour, but found no level or available land. We were informed that about seventy or eighty white men live on Stewart's Island, and about as many natives. Paterson's River appears to be their head-quarters. We were much gratified by seeing here an instance of very considerable enterprise, and this was a vessel of 40 tons burden, nearly finished. The builder of this vessel is a Captain Joss, assisted by a single carpenter. These two men have been two years at their task, and were just on the point of reaping the reward of their industry and perseverance, as they expected to launch her in a week. Captain Wing, who accompanied us on shore, pronounced the craft to be most substantially and well constructed.

The white men in Stewart's Island, judging from the specimens we saw, live in a tolerably comfortable manner, without much sweat of their brow. They have good substantial cottages, which are kept in a very tidy state by their Maori wives, and abundance of pigs, potatoes, and poultry. No whaling is carried on here, but what they require, and cannot produce themselves, they obtain in exchange for fresh provisions, with which they supply vessels that occasionally call, or for sealskins, which they now and then pick up. The cottages in Stewart's Island are all well garnished with a luxury of the southward —the mutton bird. This I take to be the bird which is sometimes called the sheerwater, or the sooty petrel—a black bird about the size of a duck, with long wings, which all of us have seen on our voyage out skimming over the waves. In the month of December these birds resort to the rocky islands about Foveaux's Straits in great numbers, for the purpose of breeding. Their nest is made in a hole in the ground, and one egg is deposited. The young one, which is said to be hatched about January, remains on the nest till the month of May, at which time it is nearly full fledged, and fit to be taken. By the assistance of a dog, or by pushing in and feeling with a stick, the burrows which contain young ones are discovered, and the nest is immediately robbed. But, as the mutton-bird seldom makes a new burrow, but returns to the old ones year after year, and as these burrows are nearly horizontal, the natives have made vertical openings into them, through which they extract the young one. The hole thus made is closed up with a plug of grass, and serves for many years. The mutton-bird at this stage of its life is a lump of fat, into which, when it is plucked and cold, the fingers sink, forming deep indentations. The method of curing them is to split open and slightly salt them, after which they are hung up in capacious chimneys and well smoked, dripping oil all the while. By some people they are considered a great delicacy; and they have not the ordinary flavour of sea-birds, but taste a good deal like a red herring. For most palates, however, at all events for mine, they are much too greasy. In the page 255season the Maories come from all parts of the coast of the Middle Island to rob the nests, and with many they form one of the principal staples of their winter food. We met many large boats returning to the northward with quantities of them on board. When cured, the head as well as the legs are removed. I had an opportunity only once of seeing a recent bird, and rather a mutilated specimen. It is certainly not a petrel, but, on the contrary, its bill is that of the albatross, the nostrils opening by tubes on either side. On the other hand, its foot is not that of the albatross, having the rudimentary thumb-claw, which the Petrel tribe possess.

On the 1st of June, we were again at anchor in Molyneux Bay, and Messrs. Tuckett, Barnicoat, and Wilkinson, and myself, landed there to walk to Otago, Mr. Tuckett wishing to make himself better acquainted with the interjacent country, which appeared to him the most valuable district that he had seen. We started from the mouth of the river, being on its southern shore, and walked the first day about twelve miles in a westerly direction, skirting as it were the base of the hills which descend upon the level plain at the lower part of the river. These hills are not lofty, and are covered with fern, grass, flax, &c., forming a vegetation which interferes considerably with the free use of the legs. The next day we struck more to the north, and walked about ten miles over a country, which certainly deserves the name of downs, to a place called Ivikatea, where we had appointed a rendezvous with a Mr. Wilshire, who kindly brought the heaviest of our things up the river to this place in his boat. Ivikatea, which is the name of a place or district, not of a collection of houses or warries, for warry there is none there, nor the smallest trace of human beings, is at the point where the Molyneux River divides into two branches—the Kuau and the Matau, which water a delta of low level land extending from that point to the sea. The two branches of the river unite further down, thus enclosing an island, which is called Bloody Jack's Island, because that gentleman was born upon it, and claims it. At Ivikatea, the Molyneux or Matau is a splendid river, upwards of 200 yards in width, with a deep steady current and definite banks. Each of the branches into which it divides is a large river, with a depth of several fathoms of water. But unfortunately at its mouth the river is contracted by a reef of rocks. What its navigable capabilities are has not yet been ascertained, but it is certain that its mouth is not easily accessible. By small vessels or steamers it might, generally speaking, be entered, but not by sailing vessels of any burden, except in particular states of the weather. In a direction inland, it is said to be navigable for whale-boats for fifty miles, by the windings of the river, which, with deductions for exaggeration, may probably amount to about twenty-five.

The alluvial delta at the mouth of the river is about six miles wide at its base, and extends inland about eight miles. If it is possible to drain it, it will probably be found very rich soil, but in its present state it is too wet to be available. On the banks of the rivers the soil is firmer; and there are some fine groves of trees. This delta is surrounded by a grassy country of inconsiderable elevation, but very uneven surface. In a westerly direction it extends a very long way, communicating by Tuturau with the level land of Totoes and the Bluff. In a north-westerly direction the mountain-ranges are far distant. An immense surface of country, admirably adapted for sheep-grazing, waits here the introduction of stock to become a certain source of wealth.

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Leaving Ivikatea and crossing the river in a boat, Messrs. Barnicoat, Wilkinson, and myself proceeded to a place called Kaitongata, on the banks of a small lake, one of two to the north of Molyneux Bay, which communicate with one another, and with the river, by a deep canal-like stream; while Mr. Tuckett was to reach the same point by water. Through the ignorance of our guide, we had to walk through a swamp at least four miles across, up to the tops of our legs in water close upon the freezing point, in some places encrusted with ice; and were at length stopped by a stream which was quite unfordable. At this point our Maori, though a professing Christian, showed that he was not altogether weaned from his heathenish superstitions. The place happened to be tabooed, as also it would appear everything about it. He would not permit us to light a fire, nor would he smoke, which was the only species of nourishment we had, until long after dark, when the boat arrived and released us from our comfortless position.

About a mile north of the Kaitongata lagoon, is another called Rangitoto, in the dialect of the country, Rakitoto, as the former is named Kaitakata. This is a very pretty sheet of water, quite a lake in fact, about seven miles long with a breadth of one or two. Its shores are firm and well defined, and the surrounding country has the general appearance of pastoral swelling uplands. Our route lay along the banks of this lake, the greatest length of which lies in a north and south direction. When leaving it we ascended some very gentle slopes of rich land, still pursuing a northerly course, having gained the top of which, we came in view of a large basin-shaped plain, of which we had not heard a single word from any of the white men on the coast, though always endeavouring to extract from them what information we could regarding the geography of the country. This plain our Maories told us was the Tokomairero. Its colour was the uniform yellow of dry grass, and its length seemed to be about twelve miles, with an average width of four or five. Night overtook us looking down upon our discovery, and, as there was no wood within reach, there was nothing for it but to camp where we were. With considerable difficulty we collected as many twigs of small shrubs as sufficed to boil some tea, after which we immediately turned into our blankets. The night proved one of the coldest we had during our whole excursion; and when the morning dawned we rose stiff and benumbed and white with hoar frost. Our shoes were frozen as hard as marble; and, miserable as we were, we could not but laugh at the futile attempts to thrust our feet into them. It at length struck us to set fire to the few twigs upon which we had slept during the night, and in this way, having at length thawed our shoes and got our feet into them, we started, a dense frosty fog hanging over the ground, and completely obscuring the landscape. Towards midday, however, the sun broke out, and the weather proved brilliant. The Tokomairero plain is entirely grassy, and good firm ground. Its waters drain off by a river of the same name, which flows through a pass in the chain of hills which separate it from the sea, to which it is parallel. What its agricultural capabilities may be it is difficult to say. I should think that the soil is light, and should fear its being subject to sudden changes of temperature and night frosts; but a great extent of valuable country surrounds it, and the field for grazing upon it and its vicinity is very great. The length of the plain is in a north and south direction. Having walked along it, we passed over an easy ascent of about 100 feet, and found ourselves looking down upon a lake named the Waihola, at the southern extremity of the page 257Teiari plain. The land hereabouts has every indication of fertility, while the swelling bare hills which rose around us reminded me very much of some of the pastoral districts of Scotland, Peeblesshire for instance. We found a nice grove of wood on the banks of the Waihola lake, and had a most comfortable bivouac. Out of the Waihola lake, and some other lagoons in that direction, the principal branch of the Teiari river rises. We followed down its banks, at the foot of steep hills, upon its eastern shore, till we reached its junction with the branch coming from the northward, which Mr. Tuckett and I upon a previous occasion had traced. We accordingly stood exactly opposite the spot where we had before been. Here we were fortunate enough to find a mogi on the banks of the river, in which frail bark one of our Maories proceeded down to its mouth, and undertook to bring up canoes for us, while we took possession of a bark hut and waited his return. The following morning he came up, accompanied by Te Raki, the principal and almost only native of the district, each of them in a small canoe. I have already spoken of this gorge of the Teiari, but, upon this occasion, we had a better view of it than before. The river, broad and deep, enters a rent in the hills, which descend on either side with inaccessible precipices into its black waters. Above, the hills are high, rugged, and densely wooded, so that, as we sat in our canoes and gently glided down with the tide, we could not but congratulate ourselves that we had been saved what must have proved a most fatiguing walk. From the mouth of the Teiari river, we proceeded northward by the beach. Long ridges descend to the water's edge here, with steep intervening wooded gullies. The land seems fertile, but its surface is rather uneven. We left the beach at the mouth of a stream named the Kaikarai, from which a walk of about six miles brought us to the head of Otago harbour. We had an opportunity in the latter part of our walk of becoming acquainted with some of the resources of the Maories. Our provisions were exhausted with the exception of a little rice, which we shared with them, but this they thought rather unpalatable food. So, having stumbled upon the remains of a whale on the beach, they cut off a large slice of the blubber, which was cooked in a Maori oven, and eaten with great relish. The next morning the dog caught a rat, at which their eyes sparkled, as an alderman's might do on the contemplation of a turtle. The rat was immediately spitted, roasted, and eaten, after grace had devoutly been said over the dish. Two of our party had the curiosity to taste it, and pronounced it far from bad living: but we were all rather sharp set.

Our whale-boat, according to appointment, arrived for us, and having been out exactly ten days, we regained the ship. On the shore opposite to where she lay, already some appearance of the infant New Edinburgh showed itself. Tents were pitched here and there. Bricks were being landed on a temporary jetty; and a great number of Maories had collected, whose fires, surrounded by a dusky circle of blankets, sent up numerous smokes, while their perpetual discussions about the value of the land they were going to sell caused a din of human voices in the wilderness forests of Otago, the like of which had perhaps never before broke their silence.

Having now, sir, led you over the ground traversed by the expedition—much, I fear, to the fatigue of your readers—and having discovered New Edinburgh, the "Auld Reekie" of the Britain of the South, and left the surveyors at work, and other preparations making for the plantation of a civilised community, I shall wind up by a few very general remarks upon the character of the country we saw, and page 258at the same time glance at one or two of the more remarkable objects of the natural history of this country, with which we had an opportunity of becoming acquainted.

On the whole, the east coast of the Middle Island much exceeded my anticipations; which, however, I may mention were by no means extravagant. It offers a large extent of level and undulating land; while the circumstance of its being covered with grass is of the greatest importance, as affording to industry a natural production of inestimable value, capable of being converted, with the smallest amount of labour or outlay, into a source of wealth and abundance.

It is a remark which has been put into the mouth of Dr. Dieffenbach, that we came here to colonise New Zealand one thousand years too soon. Applied to the North Island, any one who has seen it must have been struck with the justice of the remark. But it is much less applicable to the east coast of New Munster. Altogether this portion of the country has much more the appearance of being matured, and has an older and more respectable look. You do not see those numberless sharp, fresh-fractured-looking ridges which cut up the surface, and render it hopeless to anything but goats, who alone might live there if there were anything to cat. On the contrary, the outline of the hills is more rounded and swelling, with expanded tops, while plains lie at their feet, resulting from the same causes which have produced the rounded outline of the former, what geologists term "degradation," viz., the washing down of the more elevated portions of the land by the long-continued action of the elements. The geological structure of the country appeared to me of an older character than that of the North Island. Thus in Banks' Peninsula we find an old vesicular trap—at Moeraki, Waikouaite, and Otago, we met with the coal formation and old basaltic rocks—between Molyneux and Totoes the coast consists of grand and lofty cliffs of dark red sandstone, the strata of which rise not towards the interior of the country, but towards the sea. Stewart's Island (at least the portion of it I saw) is basaltic, and it may be supposed that the force which determined its upheaval was the same which gave to the strata above mentioned their rise to the southward. In the North Island, on the other hand, the rocks are, generally speaking, of a more recent geological date; while, as volcanic forces are still in operation there, we find more of their recent products, and more of the effects of their disturbing forces upon the general configuration of the country. In the interior I understand considerable districts are covered with cinders and ashes, and, consequently, perfectly barren. Other parts of the country, non-volcanic in their origin, seemed to have been shattered and broken up as it were but yesterday. Near the East Cape, I have walked along ridges which I could have sat stride legs upon, one leg in one valley, the other in the opposite one.

The east coast of the Middle Island seems to me to hold out greater attractions to the colonist than any part of New Zealand: but to take advantage of its resources to the full extent, I humbly conceive that it will be necessary to dispense both with the Wakefield system and Lord Stanley's Act for regulating the sale of waste lands in the Australian colonies. Regarding the Wakefield system, it may be said to have been "weighed in the balance and found wanting." That it exhibits great ingenuity and has certain advantages, no one will deny; but that it is of necessity attended with many disadvantages, which more than balance any good which it secures, is equally clear. It has one prima facie and insuperable defect: it entails, or, more correctly speaking, it attempts to entail upon the settlers the expense page 259of founding a colony, a business which, under the most favourable circumstances, is only accomplished by a very great outlay of capital. Thus in South Australia, after the settlers were all ruined, it was found necessary that the British Treasury should pay large sums of money; and an immense capital having thus been expended, the place begins to breathe and show some symptoms of life. It may be said that this was the fault of the settlers, who never hitherto applied their energies to production; but this is not true: it was the fault of the system, which placed men in a false position, in circumstances in which men never did and never will act otherwise than the South Australians did.

In New Zealand the same system has been tried both by the Company and the Government. The means of the settlers have been crippled by paying large sums of money for land, and everything at present seems to point to the same consummation as in South Australia—total exhaustion, and then health, from necessity and the contact of starvation: a system like that of Doctor Sangrado, who cured his patients by bleeding and hot water. We may remark, however, in passing, that the Government settlements have been much better off than the Company's. The money paid for land at Auckland ought (one-half of it at least) to have been sent home for emigration. No farthing was forthcoming for such a purpose. The money was spent in the place foolishly perhaps, but still some good was got out of it. But in the Company's settlements large sums have found their way, to pay for emigration, into the pockets of the English shipowners, who are great promoters of emigrating schemes, and are generally considered to be rather knowing fellows. Lord Stanley's Act appears to me a bad one, inasmuch as it demands a price for wilderness land which no wilderness land is worth. At the same time, seeing that people were determined to emigrate, were enamoured of the Wakefield system, and had made up their minds to buy waste land at any price, as was the case a few years ago, it certainly was very reasonable conduct on the part of the British Government to pass such an Act, and as far as in them lay transfer the expense of founding colonies from the shoulders of the British people to the shoulders of those who engaged in the "heroic work." Lord Glenelg was very much abused by Mr. E. G. Wakefield and his associates, because he did not jump at once into the South Australian scheme: was called a sleepy-headed old dolt, and received other such compliments. Lord Glenelg told the colonizing gentlemen that colonies were very expensive things, in saying which he certainly saw quite as far into the millstone as any of the sharp, self-supporting theorists.

Pasture is the natural and great resource of the east coast of this island. Agriculture will be subordinate to it for a long time, although there is a good deal of land which may profitably be brought into tillage, particularly when the soil has been enriched by stock running over it and manuring it. In commencing upon a wilderness, it does not pay to break up second or third rate soils. The richest land alone will yield a remunerating return for the outlay. But, as provisions become abundant and labour cheaper, land of inferior quality comes into cultivation. In the block intended for survey for New Edinburgh, it will be impossible to find the required number of sections of first-rate land, if anything like continuity is to be preserved. The great proportion will be pasture land for many years, and for this the colonists will find they have been paying at the rate of £2 per acre. From an acre of such land, a return of perhaps 1s. 6d. page 260per annum may be obtained — an interest upon the sum paid of less than four per cent. — to say nothing of the expense of a colonist establishing himself in a wilderness. If the colonists of New Edinburgh see their own interests clearly, they will take but little account of the land they have purchased, but, taking advantage of the great extent of natural pasture which surrounds them, they will run their flocks far and wide over the surface of the country. Let them keep in view the advantages which that part of New Zealand possesses as a wool-growing country, and they will secure their prosperity.

There is a very large field for the production of wool along the east coast of this island, and I am convinced that it can be grown with greater profit there than in any part of Australia. There are no native dogs, which are the principal cause of the expense of shepherding in Australia. (There are, however, I should mention, a few Maori dogs run wild, but these might soon be got rid of.) There is abundance of water, enabling the flock-master to wash his wool thoroughly; and the climate of this country is particularly favourable to the constitution of the sheep. Having seen most of the Australian colonies, and acquired a little experience at some expense, I see no occupation which affords so good a prospect of rapid return upon the money invested as sheep-grazing in this country, wherever pasture is sufficiently abundant; and there is a great extent of grass land between Banks' Peninsula and the Bluff.

This district of country possesses also a great advantage in this, that there are almost no natives. On the great plain to the south of the Peninsula, there are not, we were told, more than thirty or forty altogether. Otago and its neighbourhood and Robuki are their headquarters, and there their numbers are very inconsiderable. In the fine district behind Molyneux Bay, there are only four men. To the southward along the coast, there are hardly any. So that settlers in this part of the country have nothing to fear from claims to land or annoying attempts at extortion.

On the west coast of the Middle Island, commonly called by the whalers the "West Side," we heard a good deal both from the whites and the natives. All accounts agreed that it is of a most rugged and inaccessible character. Mountains towering to an immense height rise, it is said, almost perpendicularly from the water, while their sides, rent and shattered, form deep sounds and arms of the sea, affording the most perfect shelter. It would seem that no part of the coast of New Zealand is so inaccurately delineated on the charts as this. Instead of the tolerably uniform line with which it is drawn at present, I believe it will be found, when surveyed, to present an outline somewhat like that of the west coast of Norway. The small portion of it which has been surveyed, viz., Dusky Bay, will afford an illustration of this. Numerous harbours, known only to the sealers, and named by them, were mentioned to us. We were told that harbours for boats could be found every five or six miles. There are still upon this coast a few seals, the pursuit of which gives occupation to one or two boats' crews. In former times they were very abundant, and yielded a very handsome profit. The sealers do not go further north, in general, than Jackson's Bay, or a harbour called Harness, which is still further to the north. Beyond this, there is said to be a narrow belt of low land between the mountains and the shore, which consists of open beaches without shelter. There is no level land of any extent on the west side. The climate is said to be mild with much rain. In answer to our inquiries about the natives there, we were told that at one time there had been page 261a considerable number, and that they were remarkable for their ferocity. At present their total number is about six.

The greenstone, so much prized by the Maories, and also it was hoped by the Chinese, is found in various places on the west coast. It has principally hitherto been worked in a place called Barn Bay. A block of it, weighing several tons, lay on the beach here, in breaking up which Captain Anglin and some of his crew were so much injured. But the mineral must be abundant, for I was shown several rounded pebbles of it picked up on the beach, where they are sufficiently common. There are two kinds of greenstone, that which is commonly seen, and which is named the ponamoo, and another sort more glassy and transparent named tuggewai. The ponamoo is exceedingly hard, and has an irregular fracture. The tuggewai is much softer, of a more transparent green, and divides easily into plates. It can be scratched with a penknife, or thin plates can thus be raised.

The greenstone prized by the Chinese is undoubtedly the same mineral, slightly different in colour. It has a transparency and brilliancy which I have never yet seen in the New Zealand stone. Ornaments made of the Chinese greenstone look almost like a stained glass, or some parts of them are nearly colourless, while others are clouded with beautiful transparent grass-greens and whites. The mineral of these shades of colour is exceedingly valuable in China—worth its weight in gold. It is by no means unlikely that the mineral having the requisite shade may yet be found in New Zealand. Where there is a large extent of greenstone, it is rather indeed probable that very considerable varieties in its tint will be met with.

The kivi, called by the sealers the emu, is met with in great abundance on the west side. It is a common article of food with them, being caught with the assistance of dogs. It seems likely that there are two species of kivi, one much larger than the other.

Another bird, called by the whalers the "green bird," by the natives the kakapo, is abundant on the west coast. Dr. Dieffenbach, in his work on New Zealand, mentions having seen some feathers of this bird, but considers it to be extinct. The kakapo is nearly as large again as a kaka, nocturnal in its habits, hiding itself in hollow trees in the daytime, and, though possessed of wings, hardly able to fly. I was fortunate enough to obtain a mutilated skin, without either the wings, bill, or feet. The general colour is green, which about the head and neck is of a brilliant shining colour. The under surface of the body is yellow, but the colours blend into one another, and some of the feathers are of both colours, some barred with black. It is impossible from such a skin to say to what family the bird belongs. From what I learnt of the structure of its feet, I ascertained that it is not a parrot, nor a cuckoo, as Dr. Dieffenbach supposed it to be. I think it probable that it may belong to the podargus branch of the goat-sucker family, having some analogy, perhaps, with the celebrated guacharo bird described by Humboldt, which also is nocturnal in its habits, and makes its nest in holes in the side of a cavern. I observe in the mutilated skin which I have, that near where the bill has been there are some hairs pointing upwards.

Concerning the moa, we could meet with no one who said he had seen it, although the belief prevails that it still exists. Near Waikouaite, many of the bones of the moa have been found. I have five in my possession, obtained in that locality, from the condition of which it must be inferred that the animal to which they belonged cannot have died, I should think, more than 200 years ago. It is, page 262however, at all times very difficult to say what the age of a bone may he, so much depending on the kind of soil in which it has been entombed. I did not myself see the locality in which the bones were found, but I understand it is at the mouth of a creek upon the sea shore, that they are got, buried in sand. After heavy rains, when the banks of the stream have been encroached upon by its swollen waters, is the best time to look for them.

I observe by some notices in the English newspapers, that Professor Owen, from some fragments of the bones of the moa which were transmitted to him, conjectures the bird to have stood sixteen feet high. The bones which I have obtained do not warrant the supposition of any such extraordinary height. The largest bone I have is a tarsus, which measures fifteen inches and a half in length. (The tarsus, I may mention, is the bone below what is vulgarly called the knee, in a bird,— that part of the leg which is commonly uncovered with feathers.) In the ostrich, which the moa is believed to have resembled, the tarsus is about a sixth of the height of the bird when erect. This would give to the moa, to which the aforesaid tarsus belonged, a height of seven feet nine inches, which is not greater than that of the African ostrich, which sometimes even reaches eight feet. Three thigh bones, which I possess, all left thigh bones, consequently belonging to different individuals, are very nearly the same length, viz., ten and a half inches; but these appear to me to have belonged to birds of a smaller size than that of which the tarsus above mentioned is a relic. Mr. Earl, who lately resided at Waikouaite, showed me a thigh bone sixteen inches in length, with a circumference of eight, and a tibia, the length of which was thirty-two inches. These had probably belonged to a bird which must have stood, at least, twelve feet high. The smallest bones which I possess have no appearance of having belonged to immature individuals, and it therefore seems to me likely that there were more species of moa than one.

The question of the existence of the moa at present cannot be satisfactorily answered until the Middle Island has been explored. The probability is, however, I think, much against the existence of the moa.

In other countries bones of animals known to be extinct are found near the surface, and in a tolerable state of preservation. In the North Island, the bones of the moa are found frequently in the rivers which flow into Poverty Bay and elsewhere, but, though the island is populous, and has been traversed in different directions, no trace of a living moa has yet been seen.

When in Molyneux Bay, we heard a great deal about some animals said to be beavers, which frequent the lakes at the source of the Molyneux River. So many persons told us of them, and one very intelligent native who walked with us, and said he had seen them, described their manner of swimming, and diving, and building houses on the bank, so circumstantially, that it was scarcely possible to doubt that there was some foundation for the story.

These additions to the Fauna of New Zealand—and a floating island, which also is said to sail about on one of these lakes—will, I trust, yet tempt some settler of New Edinburgh to visit the region in which they are found. Behind Toutuki, he may explore the mountain dreaded by the natives, on account of its being the favourite residence of the mairoero. This is a wild man of the woods, strong, cunning, and mischievous, and addicted to running off with young people and damsels. His body is covered with coarse and long hair, which also flows down from the back of his head nearly to his heels. To com-page 263pensate for this excessive quantity behind, his forehead is said to be bald. He was vividly described to us by a Maori who had seen one long ago, when he was a little boy, and was of opinion that "there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your mairoero living."

The pukatuola is another wonderful animal of the southward, told of by the old men. Under a different name he is heard of in the north. A gigantic animal of the lizard species, most dangerous to humanity. A very shrewd man, whom we met to the southward, was of opinion that these hairy men and crocodiles had their origin in the Maories seeing pictures of animals in books belonging to Europeans, and then persuading themselves that they existed in their woods: but I cannot take this view of the case. I would appeal to the actual discovery of the bones of the moa as a striking instance of corroborating the natives' tales. And I can imagine New Zealand existing under different physical circumstances, when both large monkeys and crocodiles formed part of its inhabitants; and recognize the far distant tradition of these surviving (though modified) the lapse of many ages among a people naturally talkative and legend-loving. It will be of the greatest interest if hereafter the fossil bones of some large monkey or saurian animal should be discovered. The field for such researches in New Zealand is yet almost unexplored.

I conceive, Mr. Editor, that I now owe you some apology for having so long occupied your columns. It appeared to me that a knowledge of our island of the New Zealand group should be interesting from several considerations; but, perhaps, I may have erred in transferring too much to other people the feelings which I have on the subject myself. The whole of the interior of the country, the whole of the west coast, still remain unknown; and, as a subscriber to your paper, I will read with the greatest pleasure any communications which shall give us a knowledge of these parts.