No. VII.

Scenery.

There was a child went forth every day;
And the first object he look'd upon, that object he became,
And that object became part of him for the day, or a certain part of the day, or for many years, or stretching cycles of years
The strata of coloured clouds, the long bar of maroon tint, away solitary by itself, the spread of purity it lies motionless in,
The horizon's edge, the flying sea crow, the fragrance of salt marsh and shore mud;
These became part of that child who went forth every day, and now goes and will always go forth every day.

—"Leaves of Grass" (1867), Walt Whitman.

So sings the poet of democracy of America. Our surroundings influence us. Not in one year, nor in one generation, may this influence be apparent, but it accumulates, and after what in the history of the race may be only like "a watch in the night," but may be a thousand years as we measure time—the result is there. Living under sunny skies will produce one type or variety of mankind, just as living under grey skies will produce another. How otherwise are the human varieties to be explained? It may be as some evolutionists say, that mankind has not come from a single pair, but even if that were granted, the question of how the variety arose only puts the question further back. It is there. Environment counts for much. Even in two or three generations there is a difference between the country born and bred and the town-dweller. If this occurs under the same skies, what must it be where the skies are different? We do not expect Laplanders to be like dwellers in the Sahara Deserts. Why? Nor do we wonder that dwellers in the British Isles differ from Italians, and that is so page 43 even if some of the British may have had Roman ancestors in the days of Julius [unclear: Caear.] We can test the influence of surroundings on plants. Let us grow tomatoes under a grey sky and where there is wind, and let us grow tomatoes under glass, and we can see difference in the thickness of the skins of the fruit. We do not expect large flowers in tempest-tossed beds, nor in some varieties where the sun is rare. The climate of England differs from that of New Zealand in three particulars : we have more sun, less greyness in our skies, less calm still weather. Compared with England our skies are blue, our colours blue, and we have more wind. There is less quiet or calmness here. If we go to New South Wales, what will strike us is that there is more yellow in nature, yellow skies, yellow atmosphere. Ours is blue and English is grey. Of course, England has sometimes bright skies, though I never saw a real New Zealand sky all the time I was in Britain, and we have grey days, but I am writing of what is general, not particular or occasional.

Then the country is different. There are no mountains in Great Britain. There are hills in England, high hills near Wales, and the highest hills in Scotland, but the country lacks the Ruahines or our Southern Alps, and there are no Ruapehus, nor Aorangis, nor Mount Egmonts. You can see undulating country—not vast plains—and even in Scotland the noted mountains do not strike you. Ben Lomond did not look bigger than what we call hills. Its height, in fact, is 3192 feet. The highest mountain in Britain is Ben Nevis, 4406 feet. That is small compared with our Aorangi, 12,349 feet. We have nine celebrated mountains in the North Island higher than Ben Nevis, and forty in the South Island. Aorangi, Tasman, Malte Brun, Sefton, Elie de Beaumont, and Hardinger are all over 10,000 feet. Mount Aspiring is nearly 10,000 feet, and Mount Earnslaw just over 9000. Then our bush or forest far exceeds any forests in Britain in beauty, in the size of the trees, and in the extent of the forest areas. England has, however, lovely landscapes and a quiet beauty of its own, which grows on page 44 you when you get accustomed to the change of scenery. In the Highlands of Scotland you are "lifted up," and you get a touch of sublimity that is absent from the lowlands. The lake region of Cumberland and Westmoreland is a bit of the Scottish highlands in England, but after a tour of the New Zealand Alps or the Cold Lake region of Otago you are not impressed. I think I can answer the question, why do so many English people love Switzerland? They commune with the mountains there, and the glory of the Alps dominates them.

After seeing Switzerland I do not think it excels New Zealand. It is true it has higher mountains, but from where you see them they do not look higher, and their lakes are not to be compared with our lakes. Taupo is larger than Geneva. Even in glaciers we excel Switzerland, for the Tasman is longer than the Gross Aletsch. In fact, in mountain and lake scenery we are ahead of Switzerland. We excel Norway in fiords, and we have a finer hot water region than the Yellowstone in the United States.

But there are scenic beauties in Scotland in the autumn that cannot be excelled anywhere. [unclear: i] only saw part of the Highlands. My wife has during this year travelled all over the Highlands, and in a letter she gives her impressions of what she saw, and I quote some of her observations: "We embarked at Dunoon in the Columba, bound for Oban. Unfortunately, it rained from Rothesay to Crinan, pouring during the passage of the canal. The Kyles of Bute were as beautiful as ever. The canal also was beautiful. The sides are wooded and the trees were just turning into brown and gold. The mountain ashes, with their brilliant scarlet berries, made a blaze of colour, and there was a harmony amongst the green, gold, and yellow brown leaves of the woods. After passing through the canal the clouds lifted, and the sun came out in a blue and white cloud-flecked sky. It rained again before we reached Oban, but cleared as the steamer entered the bay. We got many fine views in Oban. The sunset on our first night there was quite unique. It was a study in greys. The town was grey and the sea, page 45 sky, and hills were in all shades and tones of grey. The sun hung as a ball of silver, shedding shimmering rays of white, cold silver light upon the pale grey sea. It reminded me of Shetland, although the shades were paler and the sun more silvery white. In Shetland the grey shades were dark, the hills in deeper and darker shades, and the sea more cold and less luminous. It was very lovely, and seemed to promise well for next morning. Alas! Next morning the rain came down in torrents, and the wind was blowing a gale, so our trip to Staffa and Iona had to be postponed.

"We started two days later for Portree and Gairloch in a little steamer, in a gale and in heavy rain. The steamers are not so good as the boats that took us north of Auckland to the Bay of Islands and Mangonui. We passed the Lismore Lighthouse, and the ruins of Duart Castle, stopped at Cragmore, and then coasted along Mull, passing Rock Island. The mountains of Mull and the islands are bleak, mostly rock and heather, with patches of fertile land along the shore. The trees were few. There were low hills with waterfalls coming over them on the Morven side. Along the Morven shore, trees relievo the monotony of the rocks and heather, and as we pass along we notice some farms with cattle, but behind the farms the hills look barren, covered with heather and ferns. We stopped at Lochaline Pier .... On the Skye side there were many good farms and crops, and the houses looked comfortable, clean, and well cared for. There were trees on the shore, but in the background were heather and rocks. On the mainland the mountains were very fine, the colouring and shadows most magnificent, but, oh, so barren and black, and impossible of cultivation. At Loch Hourn the mountain scenery was grander than at any other part of the west coast whish we have yet passed. ... At the island of Ornsay there is a very fine house, picturesquely set amongst trees. It looks quite modern, and is no doubt a comfortable summer residence, but it must be quite lonely in winter. . . . . Some of the mountains are grand; range upon range, in ever-changing form and varying lights and page 46 shadows, hold one in awe-inspiring silence and deep emotion. No wonder the Highlanders feel the absorbing love and enduring reverence for their grand mountains and heather-clad glens; hill upon hill, peak upon peak, with purple, green, brown, and golden shadows thrown from the gorgeous heather. The feathery bracken fern and the pink, purple, and bluey rocks of the mountain sides and glens are marvellous, and never to be forgotten. It is like one glorious cathedral, with peaks and turrets thrown into light and radiance by the lights and shadows of the setting sun. At Glenelg we landed fishing tourists and took on board others. Here we came upon the first stretch of sandy beach, which is about a mile long. There is a good hotel and a few cottages in the foreground, with mountains and glens in the background. At the next point there is another lighthouse, and we pass through a narrow strait into Loch Alsh. This is the most barren and desolate place we have yet seen .... On the right we pass the opening into Loch Druich, and we see another fine range of mountains. At Kyle of Loch Alsh, a station on the Highland railway, we landed, and more fishing tourists came on board. . . . We started for the canal from Inverness on Thursday. We called at Fort Augustine, and took the train from there to Invergarry, a lovely country on the borders of the River Garry, surrounded by the most beautiful woods I have ever seen. The trees are now turning into the most gorgeous autumn tints. The beech trees especially were very fine. There was an old one that must be hundreds of yean old. The leaves were green, with splashes of yellow, gold, and orange red all over. The oak trees, too, were changing colour. They do not turn brown and drop off as they do in New Zealand. There is so much moisture in the atmosphere that they remain on the trees through the varying shades and stages of decay before they fall. The birch trees resemble laburnum trees, the golden sprays of dying leaves hanging amongst the green like festoons of flowers. There were long avenues of trees along the road to Invergarry, and also up in the hills, in the woods of these beautiful trees. On Tuesday we walked about two and a-half miles to a waterfall, through avenues page 47 of trees, all beautiful, and all old and tinted with autumn shades. The waterfall is the outflow from the Garry Loch into the Garry River. It is very rapid, strong, but not high .... The Caledonian Canal is very fine, though I was not so much impressed as I expected to be. Loch Ness is not very broad, and the banks vary from farms and rock barren hills to thickly and well-wooded slopes. The mountains are not high, according to our ideas, but they are very fine in shape and variety, and the heather and bracken, now that the golden tints are showing, make a fine scheme of colouring. To-day we had the most glorious sunset when coming in from the North. The hills, or as they were called, mountains, were all tints of purple, blue, red, and pink, from the rays of the setting sun. Mount Cruachan was bathed in pink glow, with fleecy clouds around the summit. The sun was sinking behind Ben More amongst clouds, and in silver sheen. Then as we came in here (Oban) and turned to the west, the sun dropped behind the mountain, and shot up pink, yellow, and golden rays on a pale green, blue, and fleecy coloured sky. Then it again changed to red streaks and deeper blue, and at last sank down in gorgeous crimson flames. Surely, we have been lucky to witness two such different and opposite sunsets. Oh, the Highlands are wonderful!

"We took the trip from Oban to Iona and Staffa. We were much impressed with the ruins in Iona; the Cathedral has been repaired. From Iona we went to Staffa, and climbed round the island to the great cave. Fingal's Cave is Nature's cathedral. Column after column, which seem to have been cut out of the rock, form the sides and the roof of the great cave. It is most wonderful. The columns are about the size of a great oak, and we stepped from one to another as if one were stepping on the stumps of trees. . . .

"The heather, bracken, and rocks are glorious pictures of purple, gold, and red, and really the whole country is splendid in its wild beauty. Then the old castles in ruins and the spots where tradition and history tell the page 48 tale of the brave men of the past, with the associations woven round them in song and story, make the old land wonderful and grand. Are the ghosts of the past looking on at the American and other tourists who are treading their natal country? Do they look from the tops of the mountains and wonder at the strange transformations that have take place since they were here? The same sun shines, but what a difference there is! Ben Nevis was grand in its cloud-encircled summit. There were several patches of snow still visible, the last enduring evidence of the winter's cold, and soon again another white mantle will cover his shoulders."

Who can tell the influence such scenery has had on the Celtic Scotchman? And what will our scenery do to us? The child who goes forth every day and sees his environment will become what? What in 500 years will the New Zealander be?