KING TAWHIAO.

THE KING COUNTRY;

OR,

EXPLORATIONS IN NEW ZEALAND.

A NARRATIVE OF 600 MILES OF TRAVEL THROUGH MAORILAND.

BY

J.H. KERRY-NICHOLLS.

THE AUTHOR.

WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS AND A MAP.

SECOND EDITION.

SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, & RIVINGTON,

CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET.

1884

[All rights reserved.]

THIS WORK IS DEDICATED
BY PERMISSION
TO

SIR GEORGE GREY, K.C.B., F.R.S.,

WHOSE CAREER
AS GOVERNOR, STATESMAN, ORATOR, AUTHOR, AND EXPLORER,
HAS SHED LUSTRE
UPON
THE HISTORY OF AUSTRALASIA.

[PREFACE.]

In publishing this record of travel, I have deemed it advisable to arrange my narrative under four principal divisions. In the introductory portion I refer to the leading physical features of that part of the North Island of New Zealand known as the King Country, relate the leading incidents connected with its history, describe the condition of the native race, and explain the object with which my journey was undertaken. The succeeding chapters deal with my visit to the Maori King when presenting my credentials from Sir George Grey at the tribal gathering held at Whatiwhatihoe in October, 1882. The description of the Lake Country includes my route from Tauranga, on the East Coast, to Wairakei, and which led me through the marvellously interesting region familiarly termed the Wonderland of New Zealand, while in the pages embracing my explorations in the King Country I record events as they occurred from day to day over a lengthy journey which was delightful on account of its novelty and variety, and exciting by reason of the difficulties, both as regards natural obstacles inseparable from the exploration of an unknown region under the unfavourable conditions by which I was constrained to carry it out, and the deep-rooted jealousy of the native race against the intrusion of Europeans into a portion of the island which is considered by them to be exclusively Maori territory.

When it is considered that in company only with my interpreter, and with but three horses—ultimately reduced to two—and with what scant provisions we could carry, I accomplished considerably over 600 miles of travel, discovered many new rivers and streams, penetrated almost inaccessible regions of mountainous forest, found extensive areas of open plains suitable for European settlement, traced the sources of three of the principal rivers of the colony, examined the unknown shores of its largest lake, ascended one of the highest mountains of the southern hemisphere, experienced degrees of temperature varying from 80° in the shade to 12° below freezing-point, and successfully traversed from South to North, through its entire length, a territory with an area of 10,000 square miles, and which had been from the early history of the colony rigorously closed to Europeans by the hostility of the native tribes, it may be readily seen that the explorations, by their varied nature, disclose many important facts hitherto unknown concerning a vast and beautiful portion of New Zealand; and while they cannot fail to prove of practical utility to the colony, they will, I venture to think, be a welcome addition to geographical science.

The map appended to this work may be said to form the most complete chart of the interior of the North Island as yet published. Up to the present time the extensive territory embraced by the King Country has, owing to the obstruction of the natives, never been surveyed, and consequently many of its remarkable physical features have remained unknown, the existing maps of this part of the colony being mere outlines. As, therefore, considerably more than half of the country traversed was through a region which was, to all intents and purposes, a terra incognita from the commencement of my journey, I adopted a system of barometrical measurements and topographical observations, and thus secured a supply of valuable material, which I mapped out from day to day, while the names of mountains, rivers, valleys, and lakes were obtained from the natives by the skilful assistance of my interpreter, who was at all times unceasing in his endeavours to carry out this part of the work with accuracy.

The table of altitudes of the various camping-places and stations of observation throughout the country explored will be found to be of considerable interest and importance. By these results the conformation of a large portion of the island may be arrived at. Thus, beginning at Tauranga, and taking that place at ten feet above sea-level, it will be seen that the land rises rapidly from the coast-line for a distance of about twenty miles, when, at the Mangorewa Gorge, it attains to an altitude of 1800 feet; from that point it falls towards the South until the table-land of the Lake Country is reached, when, at Lake Rotorua, it has an altitude of 961 feet. From the latter place, still going southward, the table-land rises with an elevation varying from 1000 to 1500 feet, until it falls towards the valley of the Waikato, when at Atea-Amuri it is not more than 650 feet above the level of the sea. Further along it gradually rises until it reaches Oruanui, some fifteen miles distant, where an altitude of 1625 feet is attained, until the country again falls to the extensive table-land of Taupo, where over a large area it maintains an elevation varying from 1000 to 1400 feet, the great lake itself standing at an altitude of 1175 feet. Southward of Lake Taupo the Rangipo table-land varies from 2000 to 3000 feet, until it falls towards the South Coast, giving an altitude at Karioi, on the Murimotu Plains, of 2400 feet. Westward of this point the country falls gradually to 560 feet to the valley of the Whanganui, and from that region going eastward to the Waimarino Plains it attains to an elevation of 2850 feet in a distance of about thirty miles. Northward again along the western table-land of Lake Taupo it varies in height from 1000 to 2420 feet, until the Takapiti Valley is reached, where it is only 900 feet. In the Te Toto Ranges an altitude of 1700 feet is attained, until at Manga-o-rongo, a deep basin-like depression in the valley of the Waipa, the land is not more than 200 feet above sea level.

The wood engravings contained in this work are from original sketches by the author, with the exception of that of the native village of Lake Rotoiti, which is from a painting by the talented artist Mr. Charles Bloomfield. They were engraved by Mr. James Cooper of Arundel Street, Strand. The portraits of the native chiefs are from photographs taken by E. Pulman and J. Bartlett of Auckland. They have been reproduced by the Meisenbach process.

In the Appendix will be found a synopsis of the principal flora met with during the journey, together with that of Mount Tongariro and Mount Ruapehu, up to the highest altitude attained by plant-life in the North Island. A synopsis of the fauna is also added. Biographical sketches are given of King Tawhiao and several noted chiefs, with a list of the principal tribes and their localities. There is likewise a brief reference to the Maori language, with a compendium of the most useful native words.

In bringing this volume to its completion, I desire to acknowledge my indebtedness to Sir George Grey, K.C.B., for his letter of introduction to King Tawhiao; to Mr. C.O. Davis, for the willing way he at all times placed his scholarly knowledge of the Maori language at my disposal; to Mr. T.F. Cheeseman, F.L.S., for the classification of the flora of Tongariro and Ruapehu; to Mr. James McKerrow, Surveyor-General, for maps and charts of the colony; to Mr. Percy Smith, Assistant-Surveyor-General, for a correction of altitudes; to Mr. Robert Graham, of Ohinemutu, for voluntarily placing his best horses at my disposal; to J.A. Turner, for an unceasing earnestness of purpose in fulfilling his duties as interpreter; and to the Whitaker Ministry, for their recognition of the usefulness of my work.

[CONTENTS.]

[THE KING COUNTRY.]

[INTRODUCTION.]

Geographical description of the King Country—Its political state—Efforts made to open it—Condition of the natives—Origin of the journey—Letter of introduction to the king.

That portion of the North Island of New Zealand known as the King Country extends (as near as the boundary can be defined) from lat. 38° to 39° 20' S., and from long. 174° 20' to 176° E. Its approximate area is equivalent to 10,000 square miles. In the north the aukati, or boundary-line—separating it from the European portion of the colony—passes by the southern shores of Aotea Harbour, thence easterly through the Pirongia Ranges in a direct line to the Waikato River, along which it follows nearly to Atea-amuri, from which point it strikes directly south to Lake Taupo. It takes in the whole of the western half of that lake; it then stretches south along the Kaimanawa Mountains to the Murimotu Plains, whence it goes westerly, round the southern base of Mount Ruapehu to the mouth of the Manganui-a-te-Ao River, and thence north-westerly until it joins the coast at a point a little to the north of Pukearuhe.

The physical features of this vast region present not only many beauties, but many natural advantages for European settlement, while it is one of the best watered parts of the island. In its southern portion the Whanganui River passes through it in a long winding course to the sea, fed by many tributaries flowing from the high mountain-ranges, both in the south and central divisions of the island. In the west the Mokau River and its affluents flow from its central region to the coast. In the north the Waipa Puniu and various other streams, having their sources in the Titiraupenga and Rangitoto Mountains, wind through it to the Waikato River; the high, wooded ranges of the central table-land form the sources of many watercourses disemboguing into Lake Taupo; while in the south-east the snow-clad heights of Tongariro and Ruapehu pour down their rapid waters in a perfect network of creeks and rivers. In the west it has a coast-line of over sixty miles, and it possesses one of the largest harbours in the island. Extensive forests cover a large portion of its southern area, and extend northerly over the broken ranges of the Tuhua to Mount Titiraupenga and the Rangitoto Mountains. Westward of this division there is a considerable area of open country, including the valley of the Waipa, which in its turn is bounded in the west by high, fern-clad hills and wooded ranges. In the vicinity of the high, snow-clad mountains in the south, there are vast open table-lands; while immediately to the west of Lake Taupo and north of Titiraupenga to the banks of the Waikato, there are again extensive open plains.

Geologically considered, the King Country possesses in extensive depositions all the strata or rock-formations in which both gold, coal, iron, and other minerals are found to exist, while its extensive forests are rich in timber of the most varied and valuable kind. Geysers and thermal springs possessing wonderful medicinal properties are found in the vicinity of its many extinct craters; and, while it possesses one of the largest active volcanoes in the world, its grand natural features are crowned by the snowy peaks of some of the highest mountains of Australasia. In the north the trachytic cones of Titiraupenga and Pirongia rise to an elevation varying from 3000 to 4000 feet, near to its south-western boundary the snowy peak of Taranaki, or Mount Egmont, attains to an altitude of 8700 feet, on its eastern confines the rugged crater of Tongariro sends forth its clouds of steam from a height exceeding 7000 feet, while on its southern side the colossal form of Mount Ruapehu rears its glacier-crowned summit to an altitude of over 9000 feet above the level of the sea.[1] With these important features nature has endowed it with scenery of the grandest order, and with a climate unsurpassed for its variety and healthfulness.

The political state of the King Country forms one of the most interesting chapters in the history of New Zealand. In the early days, before the colony was founded in 1840, and long after that event, there were no such obstacles to travelling through the island as existed in later times. The Maoris rather welcomed Europeans, who were free to go anywhere, except on places which were tapu,[2] or sacred in their eyes, and in consequence what little has been hitherto known of the King Country has been derived from the experiences of one or two travellers who penetrated into portions of it some thirty years ago. Among the most active of the early travellers was Ferdinand Von Hochstetter, a member of the Austrian Novara Expedition, who, in 1859, at the instance of Sir George Grey, at that time Governor of the Cape of Good Hope, made a tour through a portion of the North Island in company with Drummond Hay, Koch, Bruno, Hamel, and a number of European attendants and natives. At this time the Maoris were ready to welcome Europeans; hostilities between the two races had never broken out, and Hochstetter and his party were received and fêted everywhere with almost regal honours. But in the course of years, as it was evident to the natives that the Europeans were the coming power in the land, suspicion and distrust were excited, and at last the tocsin sounded.

The native chiefs, seeing that their influence was declining, and that in proportion to the alienation of the land, their mana or authority over the tribes decreased, began to bestir themselves in earnest. It was considered that a head was needed to initiate a form of Government among the tribes to resist the encroachments daily made by the Europeans, and which seemed to threaten the national extinction of the native race.

The first to endeavour to bring about a new order of things was a native chief named Matene Te Whiwi, of Otaki. In 1853 he marched to Taupo and Rotorua, accompanied by a number of followers, to obtain the consent of the different tribes to the election of a king over the central parts of the island, which were still exclusively Maori territory, and to organize a form of government to protect the interests of the native race. Matene, however, met with but little success. Te Heuheu, of Taupo, the great chief of the Ngatituwharetoa, at that time the most warlike tribe in the island, had no idea of any one being higher than himself, and therefore refused to have anything to do with the new movement, nor did Te Whiwi meet with much greater encouragement at Maketu and Rotorua. The agitation, however, did not stop, the fire once kindled rapidly spread, ardent followers of the new idea sprang up, and their numbers soon increased, until finally, in 1854, a tribal gathering was convened at Manawapou, in the country of the Ngatiruanui tribe. Here a large runanga, or council-house, was erected, which was called Tai poro he nui, or the finishing of the matter, and after many points had been discussed, a resolution was come to among the assembled tribes that no more land should be sold to Europeans. A solemn league was entered into by all present for the preservation of the native territory, and a tomahawk was passed round as a pledge that all would agree to put the individual to death who should break it. In 1854 another bold stand was made, and Te Heuheu, who exercised a powerful sway over the tribes of the interior, summoned a native council at Taupo, when the King movement began in earnest. It was there decided that the sacred mountain of Tongariro should be the centre of a district in which no land was to be sold to the government, and that the districts of Hauraki, Waikato, Kawhia, Mokau, Taranaki, Whanganui, Rangitikei, and Titiokura should form the outlying portions of the boundary; that no roads should be made by the Europeans within the area, and that a king should be elected to reign over the Maoris.

In 1857 Kingite meetings were held at Paetai, in Waikato, and at Ihumatao and Manukau, at which it was agreed that Potatau Te Wherowhero, the most powerful chief of Waikato, should be elected king, under the title of Potatau the First, and finally, in June, 1858, his flag was formally hoisted at Ngaruawahia. Potatau, who was far advanced in life when raised to this high office, soon departed from the scene, and was succeeded by his son Matutaera Te Wherowhero, under the title of Potatau the Second.

The events of the New Zealand war need not here be recited, but it may be easily imagined that during the continuance of the fighting the extensive area of country ruled over by the Maori monarch was kept clear of Europeans. But in 1863 and 1864 General Cameron, at the head of about 20,000 troops, composed of Imperial and Colonial forces, invaded the Waikato district, and drove the natives southward and westward, till his advanced corps were at Alexandra and Cambridge. Then followed the Waikato confiscation of Maori lands and the military settlements. The King territory was further broken into by the confiscations at Taranaki and the East Coast, but no advance was, however, made, by war or confiscation, into the country which formed the subject of my explorations. The active volcano of Tongariro is tapu, or strictly sacred, in the eyes of the Maoris, and several persons who had attempted to ascend it were plundered by the natives, and sent back across the frontier. On the west of Taupo Lake lies the Tuhua country, whose people had from the first, from the nature of the district, been much secluded from European intercourse, and who besides had given refuge to many of the desperadoes of the other tribes; while to the south-west of Taupo Lake were the people of the Upper Whanganui country, who have always been suspicious and hostile, while for some considerable time, too, the whole district was in terror of Te Kooti and his marauding bands. It is from these causes that the vast and important area embraced by the King Country has remained closed to Europeans, and, all things considered, it is a fact which must ever remain one of the most singular anomalies of British colonization, that, after a nominal sovereignty of forty years over New Zealand, this portion of the colony should have remained a terra incognita up to the present day, by reason of the hostility and isolation of the native race.

Having pointed out the leading causes which resulted in the closing of the King Country to European settlement, it will be interesting to glance at the endeavours which have been made by the different governments to break down the barrier of native isolation, and thus to throw open to the colonists an extensive area of the island, which is, in reality, as much a portion of British territory as is the principality of Wales. As is well known, since the termination of the lamentable war between the two races, the King natives have, on all occasions, jealously preserved their hostile spirit to Europeans; while the peculiar state of matters involved in the whole question, while unexampled in the history of any other part of the British Empire, has been naturally a source of annoyance and even danger to the several governments of the colony who have attempted from time to time to grapple with the native difficulty.

The New Zealand war concluded, or rather died out, in 1865, when the confiscated line was drawn, the military settlements formed, and the King natives isolated themselves from the Europeans. For ten years it may be said that no attempt was made to negotiate with them. They were not in a humour to be dealt with. About 1874 and 1875, however, it became evident that something would have to be done. The colony had greatly advanced in population, and a system of public works had been inaugurated, which made it intolerable that large centres of population should be cut off from each other by vast spaces of country which Europeans were not allowed even to traverse. From time to time during the whole period the awkward position of affairs had been forced on public attention by outrages and breaches of the law occurring on the border, the perpetrators of which took secure refuge by fleeing to the protection of Tawhiao, who then—as now—defied the Queen's authority within his dominions.

Sir Donald McLean, while Native Minister, had several important interviews with the Kingites, with a view to bring about a better relationship between the two races, and as he was well known to the natives both before and during his term of office, his efforts had considerable effect in promoting a more friendly intercourse.

Again, Sir George Grey, when Premier of the Colony, attended two large native meetings in the King Country, in 1878, and opened up communication with the chiefs of the Kingites. At the second meeting at Hikurangi about seventeen miles beyond Alexandra, Sir George Grey laid before the natives definite terms of accommodation. He offered to give back to them the whole of the land on the west bank of the Waipa and Waikato rivers, and to confer certain honours on Tawhiao, the son of Te Wherowhero, who had succeeded to the kingship. At a subsequent meeting held at Te Kopua, in April, 1879, these offers were again made, but Tawhiao, for some reason which has never been satisfactorily explained, declined to accept them, and they were distinctly withdrawn.

With the advent of the Whitaker ministry into power, it was felt that another attempt should be made to deal with the Maori king, and accordingly, during the session of 1882, acts were carefully framed so as to facilitate the object. A Native Reserves Act was passed, under which natives could have placed any blocks of land they chose under a board which would have administered the property for the benefit of the owners. An Amnesty Act was also put on the statute-book, under which the government could have issued pardons to those natives who had committed crimes and taken refuge among the Kingites. The most sanguine hopes were entertained that this difficulty would at last be settled, and in a way which would be satisfactory for both peoples. The terms which Mr. Bryce, as Native Minister, laid before Tawhiao and his people at the Kingite meeting, held at Whatiwhatihoe in October of the same year, were so liberal as to surprise the whole country. A large tract of the confiscated land on the west bank of the rivers Waipa and Waikato was offered to be restored, while Tawhiao was to be secured in all the lands which he could claim in the King Country, and the government were to endeavour to procure for him and his people a block of land from the Ngatimaniapoto tribe, the most extensive landowners in his dominions. Altogether the amount of land to be restored amounted to many thousands of acres, most of it fertile and well suited for the purposes of the natives, or that section of them known as the Waikatos, of whom Tawhiao was the hereditary chief.

What the government proposed to do was that the king's mana, or sovereign authority, should be removed by the best means, and that in doing so the utmost care should be taken that all of the natives of the king's tribe should be provided for. This step was the more necessary from the fact that Tawhiao, although the acknowledged head of the Maori race, and exercising a supreme authority over the King Country, was, owing to the confiscation of his tribal lands which had taken place after the war, a comparatively landless monarch.

At the Kingite gathering at Whatiwhatihoe, Tawhiao, in view of the proposals made, was willing to take back the land, but objected to receive a salary from the government, to be called to the legislative council, or to be made a magistrate.[3] He, and those around him, saw that to have accepted these terms would have been equivalent to saying that he abdicated his position as king. That being, from the Native Minister's point of view, the all-important matter, the negotiations could go no further, and the memorable meeting at Whatiwhatihoe broke up with Tawhiao still reigning as absolute monarch over one of the most extensive and fertile portions of New Zealand.

With my reference to the geographical, historical, and political features of the King Country, I will here allude briefly to the physical and social position of the native race as I found it during my travels through that portion of the island where the inhabitants dwell in all their primitive simplicity.

There can be no doubt whatever that the Maori race is greatly on the decrease,[4] and that the three principal diseases conducing to this result are phthisis, chronic asthma, and scrofula; the two first principally brought about, I believe, by a half-savage, half-civilized mode of life, and the latter from maladies contracted since the first contact of the people with Europeans. It is, however, clear that there is a large number of natives yet distributed throughout the King Country, and among them are still to be found, as of old, some of the finest specimens of the human race. A change of life, however, in every way different from that followed by their forefathers, has brought about a considerable alteration for the worse among the rising population, and, although during my journey I met and conversed with many tattooed warriors of the old school, and who were invariably both physically and intellectually superior to the younger natives, it was clear that this splendid type of savage would soon become a matter of the past.

I found the natives living much in their primitive style, one of the most pernicious innovations, however, of modern civilization amongst them being an immoderate use of tobacco among both old and young. Although most of the native women were strong and well-proportioned in stature, and apparently robust and healthy, there appeared to be a marked falling off in the physical development of the younger men, when compared with the stalwart, muscular proportions of many of the older natives—a result which may, no doubt, be accounted for by their irregular mode of life when compared with that usually followed by their forefathers, combined with the vices of civilization, to which many of them are gradually falling a prey. It is a notable fact, which strikes the observer at once, that many of the old chiefs and elders of the various tribes, with their well-defined, tattooed features and splendid physique, have the stamp of the "noble savage" in all his manliness depicted in every line of their body, while many of them preserve that calm, dignified air characteristic of primitive races in all parts of the world before they begin to be improved off the face of the earth by raw rum and European progress. On the other hand, the rising generation has altogether a weaklier appearance, and, although I noticed many buxom lasses with healthy countenances and well-developed forms, not a few of the younger men were slight of build, with a thoughtful, haggard, and in many instances consumptive look about them.

In both their ideas and mode of life they appeared to cling to their old customs tenaciously, and seemed to know little of what was going on in the world beyond their own country, while their religion, what little they possessed, evidently existed in a kind of blind belief in a species of Hauhauism, in which biblical truths and native superstition were curiously mixed. In matters of politics affecting their own territory they invariably expressed a desire that matters might remain as they were, and that they might be allowed to live out their allotted term in their own lands. From one end of the country to the other they seemed to entertain an almost fanatical faith in the power of Tawhiao, and they appeared to regard his influence in the light of our own legal fiction, "that the king could do no wrong."

When I undertook to explore the King Country—being at the time only a new arrival in the colony—I found that it was a part of the British Empire of which I knew very little. I soon, however, learned that the extensive region ruled over by the Maori king was, to all intents and purposes, an imperium in imperio, situated in the heart of an important British colony, a terra incognita, inhabited exclusively by a warlike race of savages, ruled over by an absolute monarch, who defied our laws, ignored our institutions, and in whose territory the rebel, the murderer, and the outcast took refuge with impunity. This fine country, embracing nearly one half of the most fertile portion of the North Island, as before pointed out, was as strictly tabooed to the European as a Mohammedan mosque, and all who had hitherto attempted to make even short journeys into it had been ruthlessly plundered by the natives, and sent back across the frontier, stripped even of their clothes.

At this time—in the early part of the year 1882—Te Wetere, Purukutu, Nuku Whenua, and Winiata, all implicated in the cruel murders of Europeans, were still at large, bands of native fanatics, excited to the point of rebellion against the whites, were massing themselves together in large numbers at Parihaka, and singing pæans to the pseudo-prophet, Te Whiti, who had for some time been inciting his followers to resist any attempt at incursion into their territory on the part of the European colonists who had acquired land and built settlements near the frontier. Thus it was that wars and rumours of wars were fast gathering around what was generally alluded to as the vexed Maori Question, while, to make matters still more unsatisfactory, it was known that the rebel Te Kooti, who had carried out the Poverty Bay massacre, after his marvellous escape from the Chatham Islands, and who had more than once played the part of a New Zealand Napoleon during the war, was hiding, with a price set on his head, in his stronghold in the Kuiti, ready, it was believed, to take up arms at any moment. This was the state of the country which I then and there volunteered to explore.

The next point to consider was how the journey could be best set about. The matter was laid before Sir George Grey during the session of Parliament of 1882, and he, with a characteristic desire to advance an undertaking calculated to promote the interests of the colony, wrote a letter of introduction in my behalf to King Tawhiao, asking him to grant me his mana, or authority, to travel through the Maori territory. The letter was presented at a moment when the native mind was much disturbed in connection with the political relationship existing between the Kingites and the Europeans, and just at the time when the meeting at Whatiwhatihoe, before referred to, was about to be held between the Native Minister and Tawhiao, with a view to the opening of the country to settlement and trade. It is only right to state that the king received me on this occasion with every token of good feeling, and spoke, as indeed did all the natives, in the highest terms of Sir George Grey; but he advised me, as the native tribes were much disturbed in connection with the question about to be discussed between the Maoris and Europeans, not to set out on my journey until the meeting should be over.

Leaving Whatiwhatihoe before the termination of the gathering, I made no further appeal to Tawhiao, who subsequently left for an extended tour through the island. The assemblage of the tribes broke up, as before shown, without any solution being arrived at with regard to the settlement of the native difficulty, and the question of the exploration of the King Country lay in abeyance for a few months, but the idea was always firmly fixed in my mind, although it was not until the 8th of March, 1883, that I left Auckland, en route for Tauranga, to explore the wonders of the forbidden land at my own risk.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] For the altitudes of the various mountains, see map.

[2] The word tapu is applied to all places held sacred by the Maoris; it is synonymous with the taboo of the South Sea Islanders. To interfere with anything to which the tapu has been extended is considered an act of sacrilege.

[3] A justice of the peace.

[4] In Cook's time the whole native population was estimated as exceeding 100,000; in 1859 it only amounted to 56,000, of this number 53,000 fell to the North Island, and only 2283 to the Middle Island; in 1881 the number had decreased to 44,099, of which 24,370 were males, and 19,729 females.

[THE FRONTIER OF THE KING COUNTRY.]

[CHAPTER I.]

THE KING'S CAMP.

Alexandra—Crossing the frontier—Whatiwhatihoe—The camp—King Tawhiao—The chiefs—"Taihoa."

Alexandra, the principal European settlement on the northern frontier of the King Country, lies about one hundred miles distant from Auckland, and a little less than eight miles to the west of the Te Awamutu terminus of the southern line of railway.

I reached Alexandra along a delightful road lined with the hawthorn and sweetbriar, and through a picturesque country, where quiet homesteads, surrounded by green meadows filled with sleek cattle and fat sheep, imparted to the aspect of nature an air of contentment and quiet repose. Indeed, when doing this journey in a light buggy drawn by a pair of fast horses, it seemed difficult to realize the fact that I was fast approaching the border-line of European settlement, and that a few minutes more would land me on the frontier of a vast territory which formed the last home of perhaps the boldest and most intelligent race of savages the world had ever seen. In fact, when approaching Alexandra from the Te Awamutu road, with its neat white houses, embowered amidst gardens and groves of trees, and with its church-spire pointing towards heaven, I seemed to be entering a quiet English village; and had it not been that the eye fell now and again upon a dark, statuesque figure, wrapped in a blanket, and with a touch of the "noble savage" about it, it would have been somewhat difficult to dispel the pleasant illusion.

The township was not large, and a school-house, two hotels, several stores, a public hall, commodious constabulary barracks surrounded by a redoubt, a postal and telegraph station, a blacksmith's forge, and about fifty houses, built for the most part of wood, formed its principal features of Anglo-Saxon civilization.

On the day following my arrival at Alexandra I left, in company with a native interpreter, for Whatiwhatihoe, to present my credentials to the Maori king. Our ride across the frontier into Maoriland was a most delightful one. The steep, wooded heights of Mount Pirongia had cast off their curtain of mist, and stood revealed in their brightest hues; while the green, rolling hills at its base formed a pleasant contrast with the more sombre, fern-clad banks of the Waipa River, as it wound its devious course from the direction of Mount Kakepuku, which rose above the plain beyond in the form of a gigantic cone. The country for miles around lay stretched before the gaze, forming a varied picture of delightful scenery, and all nature appeared budding into life; while the prickly gorse, with its golden-yellow flowers, encircled Whatiwhatihoe like a chevaux de frise. The primitive whares[5] of the natives imparted a rustic appearance to the scene, as they stood scattered about the country to the south, while, as the eye wandered in the direction of the north, the white homesteads of the settlers served to mark the aukati[6]—frontier-line—separating the King Country from the territory of the pakeha.[7]

The king's settlement of Whatiwhatihoe was situated on the west or opposite bank of the Waipa from Alexandra, and on a broad alluvial plain running along the base of a range of fern-clad hills. As a rule the whares were built entirely of raupo,[8] and were scattered about the flat and on the low hills in its vicinity without any regard to regularity, and while some had a neat and even a clean look, others were less attractive both in their designs and general surroundings. They were mostly oblong in shape, with slanting roofs, which projected a few feet at one end of the building in the form of a recess, where the entrance, consisting of a low narrow doorway, was placed. Windows, in the form of small square apertures, were the exception and not the rule, and consequently the interior of these primitive domiciles was badly ventilated. A few blankets and native mats formed the principal articles of furniture, save where the owner, profiting by the advance of civilization, had gone in for articles de vertu on which the "Brummagem" hall-mark might be distinctly traced.

As we approached the camp the whole place presented a very animated appearance; horsemen were riding about in every direction; long cavalcades of natives, men, women, and children, were arriving from all parts of the country, to take part in the korero[9] to be held on the morrow; while many old tattooed savages, swathed in blankets, and plumed with huia feathers to denote their chieftainship, were squatting about, puffing at short pipes with a stolid air, as they listened in mute attention to one of their number as, gesticulating wildly, and walking to and fro between two upright poles set a few paces apart, he delivered a fiery harangue upon the momentous question of throwing open their country to the advancing tide of civilization. Bevies of women and girls were busily engaged in preparing for the coming feast, and troops of children played and fought with countless pigs and innumerable mongrel dogs.

While pushing our way among the assembled crowds we were met by the king's henchman, a half-caste of herculean proportions, who conducted us to the whare runanga, or meeting-house, an oblong structure about eighty feet long by forty broad, solidly built out of a framework of wood, and thatched with raupo. It was capable of holding a large number of people, and the white rush mats covering the floor gave it a clean and comfortable appearance.

In the centre of this spacious hall sat the king flanked by his four wives, the principal and most attractive of whom was Pare Hauraki, a fine buxom woman with oval features and artistically tattooed lips, habited in native costume, with a korowhai, or cape, bound with kiwi feathers, thrown carelessly across her shoulders, over which her dark raven hair fell in thick, waving clusters. A number of chiefs of the various tribes assembled, squatted in a semicircle in front of the king, who rose from his seat—a rush mat—as I approached, and motioned for me to be seated in front of him.

THE MAORI QUEEN PARE HAURAKI.

Tawhiao was habited in European attire, consisting of a pair of dark trousers, patent leather boots, and a grey frock-coat trimmed with red braiding about the sleeves, and which at the first glance reminded me of the redingote gris affected by Napoleon I., and which obtained for him the sobriquet of the "little corporal." A black huia feather tipped with white adorned his hair, and in his left ear he wore a large piece of roughly polished greenstone,[10] and in his right a shark's tooth. In stature he was a little below the medium height, sparely made, but keenly knit, with a round, well-formed head; while his features, which were elaborately tattooed in a complete network of blue curved lines, were well defined in the true Maori mould; and although he had a cast in the left eye, his countenance was pleasant, and as he spoke in a slow deliberate way, he invariably displayed in his conversation a good deal of cool, calculating shrewdness.

Among the principal rangatiras, or chiefs, present were Tu Tawhiao, the king's son, Major Te Wheoro, Manga Rewi, Te Tuhi, Te Ngakau, Wahanui, Whitiora, Hone Te Wetere, and Hone Te One. Tu Tawhiao was a tall, slim youth, with a thin, sleek face and dark moustache, and with a meek expression of countenance. He affected European costume, and had none of the strong Maori type of feature so characteristic of his father. He did not appear to be a very gifted youth, but he had a pleasing manner, and might be considered as a fair type of the anglicized Maori. Major Te Wheoro was a short, thick-set man, with heavy features and a somewhat shrewd look. He ranged himself on the European side during the war, when he gained his commission, and at the time of which I write he was one of the four Maori members of the House of Representatives. Manga Rewi, like Tawhiao, was a Maori of the old school, and with all the physical characteristics of the race about him. His chief influence appeared to arise from the fact that during the war he was one of the principal Kingite leaders. Te Ngakau was remarkably thick-set and muscular, with a firm-looking yet intelligent face. He was dressed half as a Maori and half as a European, and was remarkable for nothing so much as for the enormous development of the calves of his legs. Whitiora was an antiquated, tattooed warrior, who during the war had won his laurels when gallantly defending the Rangiriri Pa against the Imperial forces, while Hone Te Wetere was known to fame in a somewhat doubtful way in connection with the White Cliffs massacre.

The most notable, however, of all the chiefs present was undoubtedly Wahanui, of the Ngatimaniapoto tribe. Standing over six feet, and of enormous build, he had a peculiar air about him which seemed to mark him as one born to command. His features, slightly tattooed about the mouth—which was singularly large—bore a remarkable appearance of intelligence, while his head, covered with thick white hair, was round and massively formed. He impressed me very favourably during the interview, and when speaking, as he did at some length upon the political condition of the King Country, he seemed to possess not only a great power of language, but a singularly persuasive manner which was at once both courteous and dignified. He appeared to exercise a weighty influence over the king, and to act in all matters as the "power behind the throne," but he had evidently a conservative turn of mind, and had he been born in England, I think he would have developed into a nobleman of very pronounced Tory principles.

WAHANUI.
(Chief of the Ngatimaniapoto Tribe.)

When the king had learned the object of my mission, and that I had come to obtain his authority to explore the Maori territory, he was careful to inquire what other countries I had visited, and whether I had before travelled in other parts of the world with no other view than to see mountains, rivers, and plains. "The Maori," he remarked, "never undergoes fatigue for such a purpose as that, but I know," he continued, with a slight touch of naïveté, "the pakeha is different to the Maori, he has the 'earth hunger,' and likes to see new places. If you wish to go into the country, you may do so when the meeting is over, but it is not good that you should go until the Maori has spoken with the pakeha at the korero, therefore I say wait, 'taihoa.'"

MANGA REWI.
(A Chief of the Ngatimaniapoto Tribe.)

The latter word sounded somewhat unpleasant to my ears, as I knew with the Maoris it was their gospel, and was synonymous with the Spanish proverb, "Never do to-day what may be done to-morrow." I took the king at his word, but before I left his presence I mentally recorded a vow that, if I could not get into the King Country at the north, I would get into it at the south, which I eventually did a few months afterwards, as the sequel of this narrative will show.

FOOTNOTES:

[5] Whare is the native name for a house or hut.

[6] The aukati signifies the boundary of a tapued or sacred district.

[7] Pakeha is a term used by the Maoris to designate Europeans; it means a stranger, or a person from a distant country.

[8] For a synopsis of the principal flora met with during the journey, see Appendix.

[9] The word korero (to speak) is here applied as a general term to the meeting.

[10] The pounamu, or greenstone (nephrite), a species of jade, is much prized by the Maoris as an ornament, either for the neck or ears. It is only found on the west coast of the Middle Island, the native name for which is Wahipounamu, or Land of the Greenstone.

[CHAPTER II.]

THE KORERO.

The Kingites—Half-castes—An albino—The King's speech—Maori oratory—The feast.

On the morrow after my interview with the king the meeting between the Native Minister and Tawhiao, with a view to bring about more friendly relations between the two races, was arranged to take place.

At the time fixed for the korero the Kingites, headed by their chiefs, assembled on the flat within the settlement. They squatted about in attractive groups, and the entire assembly formed a compact semicircle composed of men, women, and children of all ages; while the bright and almost dazzling colours of their varied, and, in many instances, eccentric costumes formed an interesting picture, in which were blended the most singular and striking contrasts. Some of the men were habited entirely in European attire, others affected more becoming native costumes, and had their heads decked with feathers, while not a few were got up in a style which seemed to indicate that they were undergoing what might be considered, from a Darwinian point of view, the "transition period" between savage and civilized life. The women, of whom there were many, had donned their holiday finery, and although their flowing skirts were evidently not designed after the most fashionable model, this defect was made up in no small degree by the glowing effects of the bright colours of the variegated material out of which they were made. Crimson, yellow, and blue were the prevailing tints, and one by no means unattractive damsel had her lithe form swathed in a shawl on which were depicted all the various designs of a pack of cards.

MAJOR TE WHEORO, M.H.R.

There were many half-castes of both sexes among the throng, and the strain of European blood, which in most cases might be distinctly traced, had evidently, by one of those singular processes of nature which it is difficult to understand, aided to produce in them here, as elsewhere, a robust and healthy race of people. Many of the girls of this class, with their swarthy complexions and well-rounded limbs, were very comely-looking, and one young lady, habited in a well-fitting purple silk dress, and with a very handsome native shawl of many colours thrown artistically across her gracefully formed shoulders, attracted the admiring glances of all present. She spoke English fluently, and with her fascinating air, dark eyes, and remarkable Spanish cast of countenance, she appeared more suited to grace the Prado of Madrid than the primitive marae[11] of Whatiwhatihoe. In singular contrast to this attractive daughter of the King Country was an albino woman, with light flaxen hair, pink eyes, and a complexion which, if it had been washed, might have rivalled the snowy whiteness of alabaster. Her lips were marked in the ordinary Maori fashion, and, so far as her outward appearance went, she was stout and well-built, and appeared to be as fine a specimen of her kind as I had seen in any part of the world.

TE TUHI.
(A Chief of the Waikato Tribe.)

When Tawhiao appeared in the midst of his people, he had cast aside his European costume, and had swathed himself after the native fashion in a white blanket, with broad pink stripes upon it. At the moment of the arrival of the Native Minister the king was seated by the side of his wife Pare Hauraki, and in the centre of the semicircle formed by the Waikato chiefs and other natives, and as Mr. Bryce drew near he raised himself from the ground and approached to welcome him. As soon as the friendly greetings were over, the Native Minister and the king seated themselves upon the ground face to face, and, having regarded each other for some time with an air of mutual satisfaction, Tawhiao arose, and, resuming his original position in the midst of the natives, arranged his blanket in toga fashion across his breast, and raising his bare right arm, began his speech in slow, but well-delivered tones, and with the calm, confident air of one who had been accustomed to sway the multitude and to speak, as he expressed it in the figurative language of his race, "straight from his breast." His short harangue, however, was carefully framed with all the customary art of Maori diplomacy, and with a view to show that the occasion was simply one for the mutual expression of goodwill on both sides. Not the faintest reference at this time was made to his future line of policy, nor was there a single hint to indicate that any new departure was about to be initiated calculated to alter the political relationship existing between the Maori and Pakeha. It was in every sense a carefully worded discourse, and proved beyond a doubt that the trite saying of Voltaire, that language was invented to disguise our thoughts, was equally appreciated by savage as by civilized races.

ALBINO WOMAN, KING COUNTRY.

Tawhiao's speech, however, when finally declining the proposals of the Native Minister, when, in face of all the inducements held out to him, he stoutly refused to resign his mana, or sovereign authority, is worthy a place here, not only as an interesting example of the Maori style of oratory, but likewise as a touching proof of the deep-rooted desire of the old king to remain at the head of his decaying race.

WHITIORA WIROUIRU TE KOMETE.
(A Chief of the Waikato Tribe.)

Tawhiao, who spoke with evident emotion on this occasion, said: "My word is, do not speak at all; only listen" (addressed to his people). "The best way of speaking is to listen. If this European" (the Native Minister) "rises, the best thing to do is to listen. This is my word, hearken you" (to Mr. Bryce). "I approve of you administering affairs on that side—the European side. But my word is, I will jump on that side, and stand. I have nothing to say. My only reason for going on that side is to hear—to listen, so that I may know. I say I will remain in the positions of my ancestors and my parents in this island of Aotearoa.[12] I will remain here; and as for my proceedings, let me proceed along my own line. I have nothing to say; I have only to listen, so that I may know. After I have listened I will come back to this side of our line.[13] Say what you have to say. That is my thought, that I will remain here, in the place where my ancestors and fathers trod; but if I had trodden anywhere else, then I could be spoken to about it. I still adhere to the word that existed from the commencement. The queen was not divided; her rule has been obeyed. Now, say what you have to say. With me there is no trouble or darkness. What I have said to you is good; it has been said in the daylight, while the sun is shining. I do not mind falling, if only I do not fall as my cloak would fall. I can traverse all the words. This is another word of mine. I am teaching; I will remain here. You can remain on your side and administer affairs, and I will remain on my side. Let me be here, on this side of our own line. Speak while the sun is shining. It has been said for a long time that the Europeans are against me. My reply to that is, that the pakeha is with me. But let me remain here at Aotearoa. I will direct my people this very day as we sit here. I will not go off in any new direction, but will be as my ancestors were."

PAORA TU HAERE.
(Head Chief of the Ngati Whatua Tribe.)

After the Native Minister had replied to the king's speech, the present of provisions given by the government, consisting of beef, flour, sugar, and biscuits, was hauled to the front in bullock drays, and, after being piled into a heap, Major Te Wheoro stepped forward and acknowledged the donation on the part of the natives. When this ceremony was concluded, loud shouts of joyful voices were heard in the distance, and from each side of the marae two separate bands of about 200 women and girls came dancing along in variegated costumes, with small baskets in their hands made of plaited flax, and filled with cooked potatoes, roasted pork, and fish. They rounded up in front of the meeting with a measured step, between a skip and a hop, and when they had deposited their burdens in a heap, and grinned immensely, as if to show their white teeth, half a dozen stalwart men came forward with roasted pigs cut in twain, or rather amputated down the centre of the spine. When these sweet luxuries had swelled the dimensions of the kai,[14] Te Ngakau stepped forward, and, taking up a pronged stick, or roasting-fork, formally presented this token of hospitality to the government, which in its turn, according to custom, and to avoid the incubus of a "white elephant," returned it with thanks to the natives.

Feasting then became the order of the day, and joining the king's circle, we partook of the kindly fruits of the earth with unalloyed satisfaction; and as table requisites were not plentiful, we dispensed with those baubles of modern progress, and ate after the primitive mode of our forefathers.

FOOTNOTES:

[11] Marae, an open space in front of a native settlement.

[12] Aotearoa is the ancient native name for the North Island; it is equivalent to "land of bright sunlight."

[13] Meaning the Aukati or boundary-line separating the King Country from the European portion of the colony.

[14] Kai, Maori word for food.

[CHAPTER III.]

ASCENT OF PIRONGIA.

Mount Pirongia—Geological features—The ascent—A fair prospect.

HATI WIRA TAKAHI.
(Chief of the Ngapuhi Tribe.)

The steep, rugged heights of Mount Pirongia are at all times an attractive feature in the splendid landscape which stretches along the course of the Waikato River and thence through the valley of the Waipa to the very borders of the King Country. Rising to a height of 3146 feet above the level of the sea, the conical peaks of this grand mountain stand boldly out against the sky as they change and shift, as it were, with magical effect, when viewed from different points of vantage, now assuming the form of gigantic pyramids, now swelling into dome-shaped masses connected by long, sweeping ridges which lose themselves in deep ravines, and rolling slopes whose precipitous sides sometimes end in steep precipices, or open out into broad valleys covered from base to summit by a thick mantle of vegetation. When beheld from a distance, Pirongia appears to have been moulded by the hand of nature into the most subdued and graceful proportions, over which are constantly playing the most enchanting effects of light and shade, and it is not until one stands at the base of this stupendous mountain of eruptive rock that one fully realizes the bold features of its rugged outline, as one contemplates in wonder the work of those terrific subterranean forces which, at some period or another, caused this volcanic giant to rear its rugged head above the surrounding plains. Beneath the bright morning light, or when evening spreads its mellow tints over the heavens, the mountain is seen to its best advantage; but when the heavily laden clouds from the west sweep in from the sea, they gather round the lofty summit of Pirongia in a thick pall of vapoury mist, and then, bursting into a flood of rain, roll down its steep sides to swell the current of the Waipa.

TAWHAO NGATUERE.
(A Chief of the Ngatikahunu Tribe.)

When viewed from a geological point of view, Pirongia formed evidently at some remote period of its history the centre of an extended volcanic action to which the extensive ranges stretching from this point in many ramifications to the west coast, and thence in the direction of Whaingaroa harbour in the north and Kawhia harbour in the south, owe their origin. When standing upon the summit of the mountain, it may be plainly seen that the Pirongia ranges diverge in all directions from a common centre, formed by the most elevated portion of the volcanic cone which constitutes the highest point of the mountain chain. For a considerable distance to the north and south, and as far west as the coast, this mountainous system extends in an almost continuous line, and assumes an elevation which varies from nearly 2000 to 3000 feet above the level of the sea, but it gradually diminishes in altitude towards the east, in the form of low hills and undulating slopes which finally merge into the broad plains which mark the upper and lower valleys of the Waipa. Throughout these extensive ranges there is little or no open country, but mountain top after mountain top, ridge after ridge, ravine after ravine, stretch away as far as the eye can reach in a confused rugged mass covered with a dense and almost impenetrable vegetation. The summit or highest point of Pirongia, which assumes the form of a large oval-shaped, though now much broken, crater, was evidently the central point of eruption of the volcanic forces which caused the various higher ranges and lower hills to radiate from this point and assume their serrated and disjointed form, and it is here, as well as in the numerous gullies and ravines which spring from it, that the geological features of the various rocks may be more distinctly traced. As in all formations of the kind in its vicinity, the igneous rocks predominate, and of these trachyte is the most common; huge masses of this rock cropping up everywhere above the surface of the mountain. Scoria, obsidian, pumice, and other volcanic rocks likewise occur, their gradual decomposition serving to form a dark rich soil, which covers the sides of the mountain and gives life to its splendid vegetation.

A CHIEF OF THE NGATIPROA TRIBE.

When I made the ascent of Pirongia it was in the pleasant company of Mr. F.J. Moss, Member of the House of Representatives. The country around the eastern base of the mountain was composed of a series of low, fern-clad hills, intersected by small swamps and watercourses fed principally from the mountain springs.

PARATENE TE MANU.
(A Chief of the Ngatiwai Tribe.)

The moment we left the fern hills and entered the forest all the varied beauties of its rich growth burst upon the view. The steep ascent of the mountain began almost at once, and our path lay along the precipitous ridges which sweep down on every side from its summit, clothed with a thick growth of enormous trees, and rich in all the wondrous creations of a primeval vegetation. Among the many giants of the vegetable world was the rata, which, clothed with its curious growth of parasitical plants, towered high above its compeers of the forest. Many of these trees were of enormous size, especially when they grew in the low, damp gullies, where they attained to a height of considerably over a hundred feet, with a girth of from thirty to forty feet at their base. A few of these giants were scattered about the high ridges, but they appeared to thrive best, and to attain their greatest girth, near the low, damp beds of the small watercourses, which, bursting from the adamantine sides of the mountain, and leaping along their rocky course, formed the only music that enlivened these bush-bound solitudes.

TUKUKINO.
(Head Chief of the Ngatitematera.)

When we reached the summit of the mountain, we emerged from the thick forest on to an open spot which commanded a delightful prospect. Turning towards the west, we stood on the brink of a precipice which fell in a clear descent of 1000 feet into the ravine below; here and there a jutting mass of rock stood out in rugged grandeur from the adamantine wall of stone, but otherwise a thick growth of matted scrub covered the sides and bottom of this enormous fissure, and so dense and entangled was the vegetation as we looked down upon it, that it appeared quite possible to walk upon the tops of the trees without falling to the ground. Far beyond this, mountain after mountain rolled away in the distance, until the eye rested on the grand expanse of Kawhia Harbour, dotted with its broad inlets and numerous headlands, which rose in picturesque beauty above the deep-blue outline of the distant sea. North-westerly from this point the bright waters of Aotea Harbour lay embosomed in a semicircle of hills, and, beyond again, Mount Karioi rose from the borders of the ocean to an altitude of 2300 feet. East and south of this the Whanga Ranges bounded the horizon, and right opposite to Pirongia the bold peaks of Maungakawa and Maungatautari rose into view. Between this wide area there were lower hills which radiated from the mountain ranges, but it could be plainly seen that the greater portion of the country was formed of level plains dotted here and there with small lakes and extensive swamps, through which the Waikato and the Waipa, with their numerous tributaries, could be traced as they wound for miles away in the distance. Here and there upon the cultivated flats the white houses of the settlers, embowered amidst orchards and gardens, dotted the landscape, while Alexandra, Kihikihi, Hamilton, and Cambridge, and numerous other settlements, served to mark the spots where future cities may ere long grow into existence, and add wealth and prosperity to this fertile land. It was, however, when gazing in the direction of the south, where the King Country lay stretched for miles before us in all the wide, rich beauty of a virgin country, that the grandest natural scenery burst upon the view, and charmed the imagination with the thought of a bright future. The aukati or boundary-line could be distinctly traced, on the one side by farms and homesteads, and on the other by the huts of the natives; but beyond these features there was nothing to denote that the territory to the north was the abode of enlightenment, and that the land to the south was a primeval wilderness still wrapped in the darkness of primitive barbarism.

TE RAIA NGAKUTU TE TUMUHUIA.
(Head Chief of the Ngatitematera tribe. Last of the New Zealand Cannibals.)

[THE LAKE COUNTRY.]

[CHAPTER IV.]

AUCKLAND TO OHINEMUTU.

The flank movement—Auckland Harbour—Tauranga—Whakari—The tuatara—En route—The Gate Pa—All that remains—Oropi—A grand forest—Mangorewa Gorge—Mangorewa River—A region of eternal fire.

A little short of five months after the events which I have recorded in the previous chapters took place, I embarked on board the S.S. Glenelg, for Tauranga. I had selected to travel by this way as I had determined to reach the Lake Country by the East Coast, pass through the centre of the island, enter the King Country at its southern extremity, and, if possible, carry on my explorations northward to Alexandra. Owing to the unsatisfactory condition of the Native Question at that time, the undertaking appeared to be a hopeless one, but I resolved to give it a fair trial, and as the Glenelg glided over the calm waters of Auckland Harbour, half the difficulties which had previously presented themselves to my mind seemed to disappear with the fading rays of the sun as they played over the water, cast fitful shadows athwart the romantic islands of the bay, and lit up the tall spires of the receding city.

As we sped on in the golden twilight, some of the most attractive views were obtained of the renowned harbour which places the northern capital of New Zealand at the head of all antipodean cities for grandeur of scenery, and as a mart for commerce, and which, in time to come, should transform it into the Naples of the Pacific. On every side the most delightful prospects unfolded themselves; the city with its forest of houses rising and falling over hill and valley, and clustering around the tall, grassy cones, once the scene of raging volcanic fires, next crowned with Maori pas, and now dotted with neat villas. Small inlets and jutting points of land came constantly before the gaze; the forest-clad mountains of Cape Colville and Coromandel mounted boldly above the sea; in the east, Kawau, the island home of Sir George Grey, rose in the north, backed by the rugged peaks of the Barrier Islands; while right in the centre of this grand picture the volcanic cone of Rangitoto towered to a height of 800 feet above the wide expanse of water. Every point, each sinuous bay and jutting headland, was rich in a varied vegetation of the brightest green, and as the softly tinted light—violet, crimson, and yellow—so characteristic of New Zealand sunsets, mingled with the deep blue of the sea as the shades of evening crept on, and the stars shone forth from above—the whole surroundings, as our vessel glided rapidly on her way, combined to form an ever-changing panorama of unrivalled beauty.

When, early on the following morning, we steamed into Tauranga Harbour, the sea was as smooth as a sheet of glass, the heavens were blue and cloudless, and the town, the fern-clad hills, and the mountains in the distance, completed one of the most attractive pictures of New Zealand scenery I had ever beheld. In front the neat white houses of the settlement rose from the very edge of the lake-like expanse of water, the country beyond lay stretched before the gaze in a broad expanse of green, whilst the bold outline of the coast, with its jutting headlands, extended for miles on either side.

WHAKARI, OR WHITE ISLAND.

Tauranga is not a large place, but its situation is delightful. It is built mostly along the west shore of the harbour, and commands a splendid view of the great ocean beyond, with its picturesque islands, which rise in fantastic shape, from the broad surface of the Bay of Plenty. The harbour, which is completely landlocked, and safe in all weathers, stretches out before the town in the form of an inland lake. The rugged islands of Tuhua, Karewha, and Motiti rise abruptly from the surrounding sea, while in the distance, towards the east, the geysers and boiling springs of Whakari send up their clouds of steam.

THE TUATARA.

Whakari, or White Island, which lies about thirty miles from the shore in the Bay of Plenty, is a cone-shaped mountain rising abruptly from the sea to an altitude of 860 feet. The crater, about a mile and a half in circumference, is in the condition of a very active solfatara, whose numerous geysers and boiling springs evolve at all times dense volumes of steam and sulphurous gases. There are large deposits of sulphur surrounding the crater, and several small warm lakes of sulphurous water. It lies in the line of active thermal action which stretches across the North Island through the Lake Country to the volcano of Tongariro, with which, according to native tradition, it is supposed to be connected by a subterranean channel.

The small rocky island of Karewha in the Bay of Plenty is remarkable as being the only remaining abode of the tuatara (Hatteria punctata,[15]) the largest lizard in New Zealand. It is a non-venomous reptile, about eighteen inches long, with a ridge of sharp-pointed spines like a fringe down its back, and which it raises or depresses at pleasure.

When I left Tauranga, well mounted, en route for the Lake Country, the air was delightfully fresh and balmy, and the fervid glow of the sun soon dispelled the vapoury mist that hung around. All the roads leading out of the town were white with shell, and fringed with trees, among which the tall poplar and weeping willow were conspicuous by their luxuriance, while the bright verdure contrasted pleasantly with the picturesque villas, around which all the beauties of the floral world flourished in luxuriance. Here the grass was of an emerald green, the trees looked as fresh as if growing under the influence of an English spring, the jasmine, the clematis, and the honeysuckle wound their graceful tendrils about, and whole acres of sweetbriar scented the air with its delightful perfume. The country soon opened out into broad plains and undulating hills, which rose in the form of a bold amphitheatre to the forest-clad heights beyond, until suddenly there appeared right in front of me an extensive expanse of fern.

Away over the plains, down the slopes of the ravines, over the distant hills and into the valleys beyond, fern, fern, nothing but fern, rolled away in every direction as far as the eye could reach, its green, waving surface losing itself in the distance like a boundless sea. I had beheld many bits of scenery in the colony similar to this, but this wild fern-clad region had a special charm about it, for it had gained for itself a place in the history of New Zealand which will be as memorable, perhaps, in time to come as are the plains of Hastings, where Norman and Saxon fought for the mastery of Britain.

The road hereabouts passed over a slight elevation which assumed the form of a circular hill about fifty feet high, but the ascent to which was very gradual from the plain below, while it was naturally flanked by deep gullies down to which the sides of the hill fall in a long sweep. There was nothing in this place to render it remarkable other than the fact that it was formerly the site of the celebrated Gate Pa,[16] and it was to the east of it, in the fern-clad flat below, just eighteen years ago, that General Cameron, with two regiments of infantry and a body of marines, numbering in all 4000 men, took up his position to storm one of the most formidable of Maori strongholds. Thoroughly equipped with all the appliances of modern warfare, the 43rd and 68th Regiments manœuvred into position to attack a force of 500 natives armed only with the rifle and tomahawk, and entrenched behind a rude stockade of manuka and fern. At first victory seemed easy for the Imperial forces, and, with such powerful allies as the bayonet and Armstrong gun, there appeared little more to do than to scale the redoubts, storm the rifle-pits, and place their colours on the summit of the Gate Pa. But with that cunning strategy which characterizes savage races in the art of war, the Maoris had hit upon a grand idea to deceive their enemies. They did not place their red fighting-flags in the pa where their main forces were, as the pakeha would have done, but they distributed them in outlying positions below the stockade, and then they surrounded their false encampments with barricades of plaited twigs, and covered their rifle-pits with roofs of fern. The stratagem was successful, and Cameron directed his fire against these decoys, but of course without effect. The firing continued from daylight until late in the afternoon, when a storming party was told off to rush the place. The gallant 43rd were the first to scale the stockades of the pa, but their leader was immediately shot down, and they retreated in disorder; while the 68th, charging the right flank of the enemy's position, were thrice repulsed and driven back under a galling fire. It was now found, just as at Balaclava, that "some one had blundered," and that the British were firing upon one another instead of upon the enemy. The natives now, surrounded within the pa, rallied their forces, and as the dark masses swept down upon the thin red line fighting with the bravery of despair, a panic seized the Imperial troops, and then began one of the most terrible repulses and massacres ever experienced by British arms.

Every vestige of the Gate Pa has now disappeared, and nothing but a small homestead, a ploughed field, and a few Australian gum-trees mark the spot where this most disastrous of Anglo-Maori battles was fought, and yet, although peace and prosperity seemed to smile around as I passed over the old battle-field, I could imagine that I beheld the rude stronghold intact, the red coats crowding up the heights, and the flash of bayonet and tomahawk as the bullets whistled overhead and the shells burst in the air, as the fierce savages dashed forward massacring their foes with a deadly and cruel hatred, and shouting loud war-cries which drowned the British cheers in sounds of agony and death. And I could imagine all this the more vividly since it was only the night before that I had wandered past the redoubt hard by Tauranga to the small graveyard which crowned the summit of a cliff that looked out over the clear waters of the bay. Here a tall monument of pyramidal shape rose up at the further end, sacred to the memory of the officers, non-commissioned officers, and privates who had fallen in the East Coast campaign, while other smaller gravestones stood about like sentinels. Most of these monuments were simple in design, some were flat, some stood erect, and some were fashioned in the shape of crosses, but each told its glorious tale; and as I traced out the inscriptions by the light of the moon, I could read how one brave man had met death at Te Ranga, and another at the Gate Pa.

About thirteen miles from Tauranga I ascended to Oropi, which stands at an elevation of over 1000 feet above the level of the sea, and at the edge of the elevated table-land which extends for a considerable distance beyond. Looking back along the road I had come, from this point a delightful view was obtained of the surrounding country, with Tauranga and its splendid harbour in the distance, while along the coast might be traced the winding outline of the Bay of Plenty, with its picturesque islands rising in rugged grandeur from the sea. The sun blazed warm when I reached Oropi, and it was a delightful change from the treeless, fern-clad country to enter the cool refreshing shade of a magnificent forest, where giant trees, tall ferns, and myriads of creeping plants and curious mosses and lichens charmed the eye by their grandeur and variety at every turn.

For a long distance the road took a gradual rise of about 400 feet from Oropi, and then from a certain point at this elevation, that is to say, at an altitude of about 1500 feet above the level of the sea, it gradually descended 200 feet in the direction of the Mangorewa Gorge.

It is not easy to convey an idea of the Mangorewa Gorge; but one must imagine a mighty chasm some 200 feet deep, sunk like a pit on the top of the mountains, which here rise to an altitude of about 1600 feet above the sea, the adamantine sides of the gorge falling with a clear descent of nearly 200 feet from their summit level. A sparkling stream, the Mangorewa, fringed with colossal trees, wound at the bottom of this walled ravine, and towering masses of rock rose up in the form of bold bluffs and jutting buttresses along its wild and rugged course, forming, as it were, the outline of a colossal stronghold built by the gods to guard the entrance to the wondrous country beyond.

As I gained the bottom of the ravine the steep, rocky crags stood out in bold relief against the sky, the walls of rock gleamed white beneath the rich growth of mosses, trees, and ferns that fought, as it were, for life up the steep sides, while gay festoons of curious creeping plants hung from their rugged edges high in the air above. The Mangorewa River wound on its way from out a rich canopy of overhanging trees, where the ferns, mosses, and curious parasitical growth, all mingling together, shut out the rays of the sun from the vistas beyond, and where the dark, dank groves, with their gnarled branches and coiling vines, appeared like the realms of a deserted land. From the bottom of the gorge the road ascended to an altitude of 210 feet to the opposite crown of the range, and from this point a descent of 800 feet was made to the great table-land of the Lake region.

It was evening when I finally emerged from the forest, and then the road descended rapidly as if into a basin surrounded by hills and mountains, among which the sharp peaks of Mount Tarawera were conspicuous by their rugged grandeur. Right in front the shining surface of Lake Rotorua caught the last rays of the setting sun, while on its shores the native whares of Ohinemutu stood clustered about amidst vapoury clouds of steam, when suddenly even the water flowing from the side of the road bubbled up and smoked, and as the mists of night mingled with the vapours around, I seemed to have arrived at a region of eternal fire.

FOOTNOTES:

[15] For a synopsis of the New Zealand fauna, see Appendix.

[16] This word is often written pah, but, as a consonant is never used as a terminal in the Maori language, the addition of the h is an innovation.

[CHAPTER V.]

HOT-SPRING LIFE.

Ohinemutu and Lake Rotorua—Te Ruapeka—The old pa—Native baths—Delightful bathing—A curious graveyard—Pigs—Area of thermal action—Character of the springs—Chemical constituents—Noted springs—Whakarewarewa—Te Koutu Kahotawa—"Tenakoe, pakeha"—Hot and cold.

The township of Ohinemutu occupies one of the grandest situations in the whole of the Lake district. It is built on a slight eminence called Pukeroa, which rises with a gradual slope from the shores of Lake Rotorua, whose bright blue waters add a romantic charm to the surrounding country.

In front the broad surface of the lake spreads itself out in a circle of nearly twenty-five miles in circumference, and along the bright, sandy shore of this beautiful sheet of water small bays, fringed with trees, and jutting points, clothed with the greenest vegetation, add variety to the attractive scene; beyond these again, wide, fern-clad flats roll away to the base of the distant hills, which, rising in the form of a complete semicircle around, seemed to have formed at some period or another the area of an immense lake-basin, until the waters, bursting into the rugged gorges, swept into the valleys of the country beyond. Some of the hills fall with a gentle slope to the very brink of the water, others send out their rock-bound spurs, while some, again, mounting high above the rest, have their tall summits clothed with dense forests; while deep ravines, thick with a marvellous growth of vegetation, send down their crystal streams to mingle with the fierce waters of the boiling springs, which skirt the lake and send forth their jets and clouds of steam for miles around.

The native settlement, Te Ruapeka, is situated on a long peninsula, about 100 yards wide at its broadest part, narrowing gradually towards its end, where it terminates in a sharp point, as it runs flatly out almost on a level with the waters of the lake.

Every part of this strip of land, from one end to the other, is dotted about and riddled with thermal springs, some of which shoot out of the ground from small apertures, while others assume the form of large, steaming pools. They are of all degrees of temperature, from tepid heat to boiling-point; and while you may cook your food in one, you may take a delicious bath in another, and get scalded to death in a third.

In former times a pa stood at the further end of the peninsula, but one stormy night a rumbling noise was heard, then a sound of hissing steam, the trembling earth opened, and the pa with all its people sank bodily into the depths of the lake.

All the whares of the settlement are built, after the native fashion, of raupo, with large recesses in front of the doorways, the woodwork of which is curiously carved, and forms a very good specimen of the Maori order of architecture. The whares are clustered promiscuously about the springs, and it is no unfrequent occurrence to see a stalwart savage, a buxom woman with a baby in her arms, a sprightly youth, or a dark-eyed damsel come out from the carved portals of a hut in the primitive costume of our first parents, and jump into one of the many square stone baths dotted about, and with no other regard for their neighbours who may be standing or squatting around than if they were so many carved images.

NATIVE WOMAN AND CHILD.
(Ohinemutu.)

The natives use these baths at all times of the day, and even at all times of the night—that is to say, if a man feels chilly in bed, he gets up and makes for his bath in order to get warm again. Bathing here seems to be a second nature, and the women and girls arrange afternoon bath-parties just as we might assemble our friends at an afternoon tea.

There is something very delightful in bathing in the open in one of these thermal springs. I had my first and last Turkish bath in Constantinople, where the whole process had been so elaborately improved upon by all that Eastern art for luxury could devise, that to go through the ordeal was positively painful, by reason of the state of luxuriousness to which it had been wrought. Here all is primitive simplicity, ceremony is dispensed with, perfumes—at least of "Araby the blest"—are unknown. You sniff the fresh air, which in these parts feels like the elixir of life, plunge in, and sit for hours, mooning the time away in a soft, stimulating heat, beneath the glowing rays of the sun; and if you are not satisfied with this, to complete the luxury you may leave the bath, and sit down, naked as you are, on a seat of heated slabs, where you may be steamed and "vaporized" on the coldest day or the most frigid night without fear of taking cold or of being doubled up by rheumatism.

Not only do the natives use the springs for bathing and curative purposes, and not only do they warm their houses by their means, and perform all their culinary duties by their aid, but they actually bury their dead among them. I went down to the further point of the native settlement, where there is a small graveyard situated among boiling springs and steaming fissures that crop up everywhere over the ground, as if the volcanic fires below were just ready to burst forth and swallow up the living with the dead. Portions of curious carvings, old canoes, and grotesque figures in wood lay scattered about in every direction, and one was apt to wonder how it was that they had not long since been destroyed or carted off to grace some antiquarian museum as relics of a rude art which is fast falling into decay. But these remnants of native industry were all tapu, and were as sacred in the eyes of the Maoris as would be a piece of the "true cross" on the altar of a cathedral in Catholic Spain. There was a small, dilapidated hut here filled with coffins containing the remains of several celebrated chiefs, and not far off was an oblong tomb, built of wood, surmounted by a cross, and as I gazed upon it and then upon the grotesque figures lying around, it seemed as if the darkness of heathenism had grappled here with the light of Christianity. It was sacred to the beloved wife of Rotohiko Haupapa, the giant chief of Rotorua. Immediately behind it was a spring with a temperature a little over boiling-point—in fact, anywhere in the vicinity it was only necessary to sit upon the grass, and you would find the heat from below rise up at once, or to put your finger beneath the roots, when the soil would feel hot enough to boil an egg. It appeared strange that the dead should be buried in so singular a spot (unless they had done something very naughty when in the flesh), and as the hot water bubbled up and hissed through the fissures of the rocks, it seemed to whisper forth the sighs of those below.

When walking around the whares, and noticing the various phases of Maori hot-spring life, I saw half a dozen members of the porcine tribe come quietly along with an easy, self-satisfied air, as if they had just gone through their morning ablutions in the warm, bubbling fountains, and were going to root round for steamed potatoes, boiled cabbage, and other delicacies. Suddenly a half-naked Maori slunk out of his hut, with a long knife between his teeth. Quick as thought, and with the skill of a champion assassin, he seized the foremost pig by the hind leg. A prod from the knife, and the crimson blood of the murdered animal mingled with a rill of boiling water, which was running past in a hurry, as it were, to cool itself in the lake. A twist of the wrist, and the pig was jerked into a steaming pool, where the heated waters twirled and hissed as if in a red-hot cauldron. Out again in an instant, and then he set to work to scrape off the bristles, which came away in flakes, as if they had simply been stuck on by nature by the aid of a little glue, and the skin of the porker gleamed white as snow beneath the sun. In two minutes more he was disemboweled, and then he was placed over a steam-hole, with a couple of sacks over him, to be cooked for the evening meal. From the time that pig gaily walked the earth until the end of that terrible process, about fifteen minutes expired.

The area in the immediate vicinity of Lake Rotorua where the action of the thermal springs is most active may be said to extend from Whakarewarewa on the one side to Te Koutu on the other. The distance between the two points is about three and a half miles, the thermal action extending inland for about a mile from the border of the lake to Ariki Kapakapa, celebrated for its big holes of black, boiling mud. A short distance from the eastern shore of the lake is Tikitere, a narrow valley in the centre of which is a boiling-water basin, about seventy feet in diameter, and which is surrounded in every direction by hot mud-pools and boiling springs. Close to Tikitere is Lake Rotoiti,[17] whose deep bays and jutting headlands impart to it a very beautiful appearance. Hot springs occur on its southern shore, while still further to the east of it, again, are the warm lakes known as Rotoma and Rotoehu, the waters of the two latter being rendered of a greyish, opaque colour by the action of the subaqueous springs.

All the country within the existing range of thermal action, and, in fact, considerably beyond it, bears the distinctive traces of the combined work of fire and water, while the ground for miles around is covered with silicious and sulphurous deposits, together with pumice, scoria, obsidian, alum, oxide of iron, and various other products, the result of the igneous and aqueous action which is everywhere observable in the form of geysers, hot springs, boiling mud-holes, solfataras, and fumaroles, and which are known to the natives under the more general terms of ngawha, puia, and waiariki.[18] All the geysers and most of the springs are intermittent, while not a few are very erratic in their movements, subsiding in one place and breaking out in another with wonderful rapidity. The water of some of the springs is as blue and as bright as crystal, in others it is of a greenish tint, while in not a few it assumes a dirty yellow colour. Nearly every spring possesses properties peculiar to itself, and mostly all are more or less efficacious in the treatment of rheumatic and nervous complaints, and cutaneous and spinal disorders.

NATIVE VILLAGE.
(Lake Rotoiti).

Upon analysis, the springs are found to contain various chemical ingredients, but in different proportions, according to the quality or properties of the water. Among the principal chemical bodies may be mentioned the chlorides of sodium, potassium, lithium, calcium, and magnesium; the sulphates of soda, lime, potash, magnesia, alumina, and iron; the silicates of soda, lime, and magnesia. In the acids, hydrochloric, sulphuric, and muriatic are found in abundance, while both sulphuretted hydrogen and carbonic acid gas are largely evolved.

The most important springs are situated at Sulphur Point—a small peninsula at the southern end of Lake Rotorua. One of the most noted is Whangapipiro, a large circular pool of hot saline water, with silicates, and with an alkaline reaction. The water, which is only a few degrees below boiling-point, is perfectly blue, and as clear as crystal, and when you look down into its deep and apparently fathomless basin, the white, alabaster-like deposits of silica hanging around its sides make it appear like a picturesque grotto formed of coral rock. Near to this bath is Te Kauhanga, or the "Pain-killer," the water of which is saline, with excess of acid and acid reaction. It is very efficacious in cases of acute rheumatism, and many marvellous cures are said to have been effected by it. Not far distant is Te Kauwhanga, a large, muddy basin, with a constant discharge of gas, which rises in the form of large bubbles upon the slimy-looking surface. The waters of this bath are slightly saline, with excess of acid and acid reaction, while the gas which is constantly evolved produces upon many, when inhaled, similar effects to those of laughing-gas. Nearer to the lake is Te Pupunitanga formed by a warm spring of transparent water, the properties of which are aluminous, and strongly acid, with acid reaction. The water of this spring is very beneficial in cases of acute rheumatism and cutaneous disorders, and when used in its natural state—that is to say, without the admixture of fresh water—it produces a tingling sensation, and causes the skin to assume for a short time the redness of a boiled lobster. The "Coffee-pot" is a hole about twelve feet in diameter, full of hot, bubbling mud of the colour of coffee, and which rolls and splutters about in a constant state of ebullition. The "Sulphur Cups," not far distant, are formed by small sulphurous springs of various degrees of temperature, which flow out of circular, cup-shaped basins, about four feet in diameter, around which the bright yellow mineral is deposited in the form of glittering crystals, while the "Cream Cups"—delicate and beautiful in formation—are fashioned out of cup-shaped craters, from the centre of each of which shoots forth a jet of sulphurous gas and steam.

From Sulphur Point I rode across to Whakarewarewa. Situated about two miles to the south-west, and at the base of a range of bare hills, was a native settlement, surrounded by a wide area of thermal action. Here the geysers, hot springs, mud-holes, mud-cones, and solfataras were scattered about in every direction, while the ground hissed and seethed, as it were, in fury beneath one's feet. It was just such a place where you would expect at any moment to go head-first into a mud-hole or boiling spring, or be scalded to death by a shower of hot water from the big geysers as they threw up their steaming columns of silvery liquid high into the air with a loud, rumbling sound like distant thunder. One of the largest geysers here, called by the natives Waikite, issues from a cone of silicious rock nearly fifty feet high and over a hundred feet in diameter, and in its most active moments throws up an enormous column of boiling water to a height of sixty feet. Many of the numerous springs here possess great curative properties, while the mud-holes and fumaroles are amongst the largest and most active in the district.

At Te Koutu, which lies on the shores of the lake, about a mile on the north side of Ohinemutu, there is a very interesting chain of warm springs and mud-holes. This is one of the most beautiful situations on Rotorua, of which a splendid view is obtained, with the island of Mokoia in the distance, and the forest-clad mountain Ngongotaha, rising to a height of 2554 feet above the level of the sea, and just in rear of the small native settlement, which here skirts the margin of the wide expanse of water. There is one beautiful spring here, called Tupuhi, of clear, hot water, which fills a snow-white silicious basin, about ninety feet long, while within a few feet of it is a circular basin of the same kind, in which the water is only of tepid heat. It is surrounded by a mantle of green grass, and the water of the darkest blue makes it look like a big turquoise set in a border of alabaster and emeralds.

I was shown round this locality by a native guide, who took me to a large hole where a warm spring, called Kahotawa, bubbled up in a mixture of greenish mud and scum. Its black sides were overgrown with ferns, and a few sticks were placed across it in a mystic, cabalistic kind of way. When we got near to it, I noticed that my guide drew back, and when I motioned for him to follow me, in order to explain the mystery, he informed me in the most solemn way that it was tapu for the Maori, but not for the pakeha. He afterwards stated that it was sacred to an aged chief, or rangatira, who had been buried in it. I did not envy the old man his last resting-place, for I had never seen a grave that looked so much like a cauldron of hot turtle soup.

Soon afterwards I passed in front of a whare built within a few feet of the lake, where there was an open bath right in front of the doorway. It was formed of a few slabs let into the ground, like a square box, to hold the water. A small warm spring filled it, and then ran over its sides into the lake. I should not have taken any notice of this simple contrivance, had it not been for the fact that a maiden of some seventeen summers was reclining at full length in it, in the simple yet attractive costume of Eve, and with a short black pipe in her mouth. I had stepped round the corner of the hut, and was within a foot of going head-first into the bath before her well-rounded form met my gaze. She was, however, in no way disconcerted by this contretemps, but, fixing her dark eyes upon me, said, in the most unconcerned way imaginable, "Tenakoe, pakeha."[19] There was not the slightest tinge of immodesty in her manner; she simply lay shining beneath the sun, with all the grace with which nature had endowed her, looking like a beautiful bronze statue encased in a block of crystal.

At some distance further on I got into a warm bath myself, which caused a delightful sensation of glowing warmth, and when I was tired of this I plunged into the cool water of the lake, which produced an effect which seemed to brace up every nerve and muscle. There is nothing which strings up the system so well as a mixed bath of this kind, and there is no place where it can be enjoyed with greater comfort or pleasure than at Te Koutu, where the springs are close to the shore, and where the waters of the lake shallow gradually over a white bed of sandy pumice.

FOOTNOTES:

[17] The word roto in Maori is equivalent to lake. Hence Roto-rua, "lake number two;" Roto-iti, "small lake;" Roto-ma, "white lake;" Roto-ehu, "muddy lake;" Roto-mohana, "warm lake," &c.

[18] The term ngawha is used to designate non-intermittent springs and solfataras; puia is applied to geysers and hot fountains; waiariki means a spring suitable for bathing.

[19] Tenakoe, pakeha, "I salute you, stranger," is the usual Maori salutation addressed to Europeans.

[CHAPTER VI.]

TRADITION, IDOLATRY, AND ROMANCE.

Origin of the Maoris—Te Kupe—First canoes—The runanga house—Maori carving—Renowned ancestors—Tama te Kapua—Stratagem of the stilts—Legend of the whale—The Arawa canoe—Noted braves—Mokia—A curious relic—Gods of the Arawas—Mokia by night—Hinemoa—A love song.

When I went to Te Ruapeka to view the runanga house, it was in company with Mr. C.O. Davis, a gentleman well-known throughout the colony as an accomplished Maori scholar, and as one who has done much to advance the spiritual welfare of the natives; and it was to his kindly assistance I am indebted for much of the information I gained on that occasion respecting the singular history of the Maori race, and the remarkable legends connected with the graven images of their curious temple of ancestor-worship.

From the earliest period of Maori history Te Ruapeka has been the principal home of the Ngatiwhakaue, a section of the great Arawa tribe, whose territory extends over the Lake Country to the East Coast. Attracted, as it were, from their first landing upon the island to the magnificent scenery of this portion of the newly discovered land, the Arawas made their homes among the lakes, whose very shores and mountains echo even to the present day with their songs and legends. Whence they and the remainder of their race came, or at what period they arrived from their mysterious dwelling-place beyond the sea, is one of those interesting events in connection with their history which have been lost in the dim vista of the past. The Maoris of the present day refer to Hawaiki as the fatherland of their race, and hence the proverb: I kune mai i Hawaiki te kune kai te kune tangata, "the seed of our coming is from Hawaiki, the seed of man"; but of the locality of this place, beside the belief that it was an island somewhere in the broad waters of the Pacific, absolutely nothing beyond conjecture is known. They have, however, a distinct tradition that their ancestors migrated to New Zealand in certain canoes, the names of which, with the principal historical events connected with them, have been handed down from father to son through countless generations,[20] and although these ancestral reminiscences may appear to the ordinary mind like a labyrinth of mythical fancies, since many of the incidents upon which they have been founded appear to have been dimmed and distorted by the march of time, yet when considered in connection with the rude monuments which serve to perpetuate their memory, they form, as it were, the missing links in the unwritten annals of a splendid, albeit savage, race of people, who by their singular intelligence and chivalrous valour will be remembered in the history of the world so long as the brilliant record of the rise and progress of the British Empire shall endure.

According to general tradition, the first of the Maori race to reach Aotearoa, as the North Island was termed by its original discoverers, was Te Kupe. This hero, who may be looked upon as a kind of Maori Columbus endowed with supernatural power, is said to have severed the North Island from the Middle Island, and thus to have formed the wide channel of water now known as Cook's Strait. His achievements are thus commemorated in a characteristic native song:—

I'll sing, I'll sing of Kupe, great and brave,
Who launch'd his bark and cross'd the mighty wave;
He—when the world from chaos rose to birth—
Divided into continents the earth;
He form'd the valleys, and the mountains too,
And gave the fruitful earth its vernal hue;
Alighting as a bird upon the deep,
He call'd the islands from their death-like sleep;
Then Kapiti and Mana[21] kiss'd the wave,
And Aropaoa[22] left its ocean grave;
These are the signs which my ancestor wrought,
When Aotearoa first his vision caught,
And now will I explore each nook and strand,
And take possession of this fertile land.[23]

When Te Kupe returned to Hawaiki, he gave such a glowing account of the size, beauty, and products of Aotearoa, that a fleet of canoes was immediately raised by his people to proceed to the newly discovered country.[24] Each canoe was under a separate navigator, and contained representatives of the principal Hawaikian tribes with their head chiefs and arikis, or high priests, and it was the final dispersion of these canoes to different parts of the North Island which gave rise to the great tribal divisions of the race as resented at the present day by the Arawas, the Ngapuhi,[25] the Waikatos, Ngatimaniapoto, Ngatituwharetoa, Ngatiawa, Ngatiruanui, Ngatihau, and others, with their various intertribal hapus, or families.

We found the runanga house to be a well-built structure, about seventy feet long, by forty feet in breadth. The carving about the portals was of a very elaborate kind, and formed an interesting specimen of native decorative art. On the left-hand side of the entrance was a grotesquely carved figure, about twenty feet high, of Pukaki, of the fifth generation of ancestors, and on the right-hand side was an equally remarkable one of Pimiomarama, also of the fifth generation.[26] At a short distance in front of the entrance was a tall square flag-staff of singular design, and at the bottom of it a figure of the chief Puruohutaiki elaborately tattooed in pink and white. He is represented as grasping a mere, and is said, according to Maori legend, to have been a noted ancestor in the mysterious land of Hawaiki, and to have lived three generations before Tama te Kapua, to whom the temple is dedicated.

SPECIMEN OF MAORI CARVING.

Stepping inside the runanga house, a very curious sight presented itself. The roof, high and slanting, was supported by a decorated ridge-pole, while the rafters, painted in bright colours of red, black, and white, presented all those singular varieties of curved and twisted lines which form one of the most remarkable features in the varied designs of Maori decoration. In fact, it is the wonderful blending of the circle and sweeping curve which adds to the carving and painting of this ingenious race its special and most attractive charm, and places it far beyond that of any other savage people for beauty combined with a unique and graceful simplicity.

The lower walls of the temple were entirely surrounded by grotesque figures, representing renowned ancestors of the Arawa tribe, and whose genealogy dated back both before and after the landing of the first immigrants. All these singular effigies appeared at the first glance to have been carved after the same model, but, upon closer examination, it could be seen that each one had some peculiarity of feature, some distinctive turn or twist in the singular design of its elaborate carving, while each had some facial expression or bodily characteristic for which the particular hero represented was supposed to have been remarkable when in the flesh. One and all were depicted with distorted features, protruding tongues, and defiant mien, while their big staring eyes were formed of the pearly shell of the fresh-water mussel.

As already stated, the runanga house is dedicated to the memory of Tama te Kapua, the captain of the Arawa canoe. Before the canoe landed, he acted the part of a primitive Lothario, and won the favours of the wife of Ngatoroirangi, the ariki,[27] or chief priest of the war craft. Indeed, he would appear to have been both a "gallant captain and a bold." The effigy of this warrior occupies a central position on the left on entering, and, curious to relate, he is represented as standing on poutoto, or stilts. Now one of the legends connected with the eventful life of this adventurous navigator is very remarkable.

Ages ago there lived on the island of Hawaiki a chief named Uenuku, who had a garden filled with a fruit called poporo. Tama te Kapua went for that fruit at night-time on stilts. The tribe could not find out who it was that committed these midnight depredations. There were no foot-prints around. Taipo[28] was the man. At last they found Tama te Kapua up a tree in flagrante delicto, stilts and all. The natives cried out in exultation, "Ah, we will fell the tree, and catch him." Tama te Kapua replied with the greatest sangfroid, "If you fell the tree, and it falls on land, I shall escape; if it falls in the water, you will be able to capture me." He had, however, studied the question from a strategic point of view, and knew that it was "heads," he won; "tails," they lost. The tree fell into the water, but Tama te Kapua dodged his pursuers, and, striking out with his stilts, got off with a clean sheet.

It is not, however, for the above youthful escapade that the memory of Tama te Kapua has been handed down to posterity in Maori song and legend, but rather for what may be called the "stratagem of the whale," and which in its inception appears to have been quite equal to that of the "wooden horse" of classic memory.

When the crew of the Tainui canoe parted company with the crew of the Arawa canoe on the voyage from Hawaiki, the former came across a whale. They captured the whale, and secured it by means of a rope to a pohutukawa tree on the coast, hard by Whangaparaoa. Early on the morrow the Arawa canoe came along, and sighted the whale. Tama te Kapua resolved to annex the monster mammal. He could only do that, however, with any show of justice, by establishing a preemptive right to it. He was equal to the occasion. He fixed another rope to the whale, but in so subtle and crafty a way as to leave no room for doubt that the monarch of the sea had been first captured by his own crew. On the following day a dispute arose between the two crews as to who had captured the whale first, but Tama te Kapua pointed triumphantly to the way his own rope was "bent on," whereat the Tainui braves struck their colours, and sheered off. The Tainui canoe passed along the coast to the Tamaki River, where it was taken across the land to the Manukau, and thence by sea to Kawhia, where it was drawn up. The Arawa crew landed at Maketu, where they ate the whale.

The Arawa canoe is represented by a somewhat rude design upon the wall, fully manned with crew and fuglemen in full war-costume, while the prow is plumed and carved like those of the present day. The sun and moon are depicted in the heavens, and right ahead is a bright star, representing the brilliant constellation which is said to have guided Tama te Kapua and his followers to the shores of Aotearoa. Two trees, presumably intended to represent pohutukawas, are ahead of the canoe, and to one of these a whale is attached by a rope.

There were many grotesque warriors and noted braves, around and among them was a curious carved figure of Tutanekai, the lover of Hinemoa, with his putorino, or flute, in his mouth, and by the magic strains of which he caused the dark syren to swim, nymph-like, to his island in the lake. It was a singular instrument, about a foot long, pointed at both ends, and flattened out in the centre like a fish. Near to him was the effigy of Uenukukopako, father of Whakatira, who was in his turn father of Tutanekai, and with his tongue hanging far out of his mouth, his eyes glaring wide, and his enormous hands pressed across his stomach, he looked as if he were still suffering from the effects of his adventures in the Arawa canoe. Opposite was Whakatira, brother to Tama te Kapua. He is also represented on stilts, and is said to have been in partnership with his brother in the orchard-robbing business. Here also was Tiki, with a flute in his mouth. He was the friend and companion of Tutanekai. Near to him was Hurutirangi, grandson of Tutanekai. He is represented as grasping a curious weapon, the top of which was shaped like a bird's head. With this instrument he is said to have killed a chief called Wahiao, of another tribe. Near to the top of the central ridge-pole of the building was a curiously carved figure of the warrior Whakarra, with his feet resting on the head of a dog called potokatawhiti, and whose memory is curiously blended with the history of the tribe. At the bottom of the pole was a squat, dwarf-looking effigy, with slanting eyes and elongated, tattooed visage, and whose general appearance represented nothing so much as an ugly, ill-formed baby. This was Kuruaro, a chief who is said to have walked the earth six generations after Tutanekai. There were many other noted ancestors of the tribe, all hideous in appearance, yet all elaborately and marvellously carved, but it would require a volume to repeat their histories.

It was on a bright morn, when in company with a native youth I stepped into a canoe and headed across Rotorua to the island of Mokia, which rose to a height of over five hundred feet from the centre of the lake.

As soon as we had landed, my guide took me to a tree, into the hollow part of which the skeleton of a chief had been placed ages ago, but the forest giant, continuing to grow, had clasped the grim remnant of humanity in its firm embrace, and thus preserved the bones from decay in a very remarkable manner.

We mounted through the thick fern to the summit of the island, where formerly stood a pa, but nothing of this remained save the graves, where some of the principal chiefs of the Ngatiwakaue await the coming of the great day, and the subterranean caves wherein the stone idols, said to have been brought from Hawaiki by the Arawas, dwell in a kind of pagan solitude, as if anxious to hide their diminished heads from the light of Christianity.

There are few more delightful places in the Lake Country than Mokia—rich in Maori legend, and renowned far and wide as the scene of one of the most interesting of the many love romances of the Arawas. It rises boldly from the water, has hills and deep valleys, is rock-bound and fringed with trees, and is all that is enchanting, fairy-like, and beautiful. To view it with the sunlight playing over the glittering surface of Rotorua and sweeping over its rounded, fern-clad hills with the most charming effects of light and shade, is pleasing in the extreme, but it is at night, when the lake is as calm as the sky above, and the pale moon floats over its surface in a silvery sheen, and countless stars are mirrored forth in the depths below, that the picture is the most enchanting; for it is then the spirit of romance steals over one, and leads the imagination back instinctively as it were to the dark days of Maori history, when tattooed warriors glided over the water in swift canoes on some midnight raid, and made the welkin ring with their war-cries, when Hongi "the terrible" gladdened the hearts of his conquering Ngapuhi with cannibal feasts at the expense of the vanquished Ngatiwhakaue, when song and legend resounded from hill and dale, and when Tutanekai, by the magic of his flute, wooed the dark-skinned Hinemoa, and caused the heroine of Rotorua to act the part of a primitive Leander by swimming in puris naturalibus across the lake to his island home.

Now, be it known that the spirit of Hinemoa hovers around Mokoia like unto a bright halo around the sun, and the hills and the vales, the rocks and the stones, the trees, and the hot and cold springs, all whisper tales to her memory. Her home was at Ouhata, a jutting point on the shores of Rotorua, where stood a village of her tribe. She was the daughter of the chief Unukaria, and the fame of her beauty spread far and wide over the country, and poets sang of her charms, and warriors plighted their troth in her honour. Never was maiden so talked of in prose and sung of in verse. At Mokoia lived Tutanekai, a foster son of the chief Whakane, who fell sick for love of the beautiful maiden of Ouhata. The two hearts beat as one. Then, as now, the adage that "All is fair in love and war" held good, and it was agreed that Hinemoa should flee to Tutanekai, to whom she had been forbidden, under pain of death, to give her hand. The strains of his flute were to herald the beginning of operations, when the maiden was to paddle her own canoe across the water. Now when the night was calm Tutanekai took his flute, and seating himself upon a rock hard by Kaiwaka on the shore of Mokoia, the sound of his music was wafted by the breeze to the home of Hinemoa. Then Hinemoa came down to the lake to step into her canoe, but, alas! the frail craft had been hauled up high and dry upon the land. To launch it herself was impossible, and to seek assistance would be but to divulge her movements. There was no course open but to swim, and, with the innate courage of her race, she was equal to the occasion. She took six empty gourds and fastened them to her body, on either side, and then plunged from a rock into the lake. The stars and the moon shone upon her from above, but the waters were wide, and there was no guide save the music of Tutanekai, but with love at the prow she shaped her course bravely until she landed on the shores of Mokoia, at a point where a warm fountain bubbled up amidst the rocks, and which is known even unto this day as "Hinemoa's Bath."

A LOVE SONG.

Far o'er the lake slept romantic Mokoia,
While the pale moon shone bright from above,
And on a rock the brave Tutanekai
Tootled his flute to the gay song of love.
Softly lamenting sings he to his darling,
"Come to my arms, O my sweet Hinemoa,
Let not the sorrow of anguish divide us;
Come, that we never may part any more."
Gently the echo sped on the night air,
Till spell-like it broke on the glad maiden's ear;
Lightly she came to the brink of the water,
And swam o'er its surface so limpid and clear;
Brightly the stars shone forth from the heavens,
Glittering like gems in a mantle of blue,
And the strains of the flute seem'd to ripple the water,
Wafted on by the wings of the wind as it blew.
Swift the dark beauty swept o'er the wavelets
Till she kiss'd the white sand of Mokoia's fair shore;
When brave Tutanekai, ceasing his music,
Cried, "Come to my arms, O my sweet Hinemoa,"
Lock'd in embraces, the lover and maiden
Were wedded by Cupid, who flew from above,
And dark Hinemoa and brave Tutanekai,
'Neath the light of the moon sang their anthem of love.

FOOTNOTES:

[20] As the natives had no written language, their numerous legends, fables, songs, and proverbs were transmitted by oral tradition.

[21] Islands in Cook's Strait.

[22] The Middle Island.

[23] Translated from the original by Mr. C.O. Davis.

[24] The canoes were named the Aotea, Arawa, Tainui, Mata-Atua, Takitumu, Tokomaru, and Kurahaupo. According to tradition, the kumara, sweet potato, the taro, the karaka tree, the rat, kiore, and the green parrot, kakariki, were brought in them from Hawaiki. The Aotea canoe was the first to reach the land, hence the Maori name Aotearoa was applied to New Zealand. The list of canoes, as here cited, was given to the author by Topia Turoa, head chief of the Whanganui tribes.

[25] When a noun in the Maori language has the prefix nga it refers to the plural number.

[26] The Maoris divide their genealogical history, both before and after their migration from Hawaiki, into various generations, the duration of each of which, however, appears to be uncertain, consequently the period of their arrival in New Zealand, even by their own traditions, cannot be fixed with any degree of accuracy.

[27] The word ariki means, literally, a chief priest, or deified man; the head of a tribe is an ariki by birth.

[28] Taipo, the name given to an evil spirit or devil.

[CHAPTER VII.]

EN ROUTE TO THE TERRACES.

Over the mountains—Rauporoa Forest—The hotete—Tikitapu—Rotokakahi—Te Wairoa—The natives—Waituwhera Gorge—The boat—A distinguished traveller—Sophia—Lake Tarawera—Mount Tarawera—Te Ariki—Te Kaiwaka.

The terraces, which are the most marvellous of all the wonders of the lakes, lie about twenty miles as the crow flies, in a south-easterly direction from Ohinemutu. From the latter place to Te Wairoa the distance is about thirteen miles; the other part of the journey being by water across Lake Tarawera.

I found the route to be one of the most beautiful that I had ever travelled in any part of the world. Leaving Ohinemutu mounted on a good horse, my road lay along the southern shore of Lake Rotorua and thence over the mountains, through which it wound by a gradual ascent, formed by a zigzag cutting. A short distance above the mountain pass on the right was a bold gorge, formed between two fern-clad mountains, whose precipitous sides swept abruptly into the valley below, which was covered with low, round-topped hills. Through this gorge a grand view was obtained of the huge dome-shaped form of Hapurangi, farther in the distance the flat-topped, forest-clad summit of Mount Horohoro stood boldly out against the sky. Beyond this point the road passed through a fern-clad country, with mountains in the background, and from the midst of which the grand serrated peak of Mount Tarawera loomed like a grim colossus above the surrounding heights. After passing over open, undulating plains, the road entered the Rauporoa forest, one of the grandest gardens of primeval vegetation in the North Island. Whilst the trees here attained to an enormous size and the shrubs to a marvellous luxuriance, many of the rarest and most beautiful ferns of the country formed a dense undergrowth, which covered every foot of ground like a variegated carpet. Countless orchids and lichens, and creeping plants, struggled to the tops of the tallest trees which spread their giant branches over the roadway in an arched canopy of vivid green, and appeared to touch the sky as they mounted upwards to the very summits of the steep mountains which rose on every side, beneath the thick impenetrable growth which covered their rugged slopes without a single break.

On my return from the terraces I rode through this grand forest alone by night. The stars shone brightly, the moon lit up the giant trunks of the trees in a soft, silvery sheen, and cast deep shadows that flitted about like spectres in the gloom; the twisting vines hung in fantastic coils overhead, and countless myriads of glowworms[29] sparkled and glittered in a thousand brilliant coruscations on every side, on the trees, among the rocks, and in the ferns, and in a way which reminded me of the gorgeous fireflies I had often admired when in the jungles of Ceylon.

It was while admiring the beauties of the Rauporoa forest that I came across a specimen of what I may term one of nature's most paradoxical works; it was the hotete—the grub of the large night-butterfly—the Sphæria Robertsi, or "vegetating caterpillar."

To give an idea of this singular curiosity, one must imagine a grub or caterpillar from two to three inches long, with a dark brown body, in appearance not unlike a piece of dried leather, while the legs, the feet, the eyes, and the mouth are perfect in every detail, as if the insect had been carefully stuffed and preserved. But most curious of all, from the tail end there shoots out the thin stem of a plant from six to eight inches long, perfectly rounded and smooth in form, with a rounded point, and of the same colour as the caterpillar. To explain this, it is clear that the grub, when alive, eats the seed of some unknown plant or tree, and which, germinating in its inside, when the insect buries itself in the ground for the purpose of changing into a chrysalis, gradually kills it, as it grows and feeds, as it were, upon the vitality of its body.

The most remarkable feature, however, in the whole metamorphosis is not that the grub eats the seed, nor that it germinates within its body, but that the process should go on whilst the outward form of the grub remains intact, as if it underwent during the time some peculiar mode of preservation. The grub is found in this state underground, with the plant growing above the surface. It should be remarked that the latter has neither branches nor leaves, but partakes more of the character of a creeping vine. Some of the natives are of opinion that it is the seed of the rata which the grub eats in this way, but the question appears to be undecided.

When I suddenly emerged from the deep gloom of the forest, the azure waters of Tikitapu, or the "Blue Lake," came suddenly before my view with the most enchanting effect. Nearly circular in form, and fringed below the level of the road with a dense growth of vegetation, the tall mountains rose up above it on one side to a height of 800 feet, and cast their dark shadows upon its tranquil bosom, which lay shining in the sunlight, without a breath of wind to stir the smooth and deeply blue expanse of water. It is only about half a mile long, but for calm, picturesque beauty, it is one of the most attractive sights of this wondrous region. The road skirts it on its eastern side to its farther end, where a narrow saddle, falling from a range of bold hills, divides it from Rotokakahi, or the "Green Lake."

It was sunset when I reached Rotokakahi, and the effect of the rich golden light falling upon the green-tinted waters of the lake afforded one of the grandest sights imaginable. It was one of those sunsets when the heavens assume an ethereal blue, and when the fierce orb of day is mellowed by amber mists and vapouring clouds with streaks of crimson and carmine. It was, in fact, just such a sunset as Turner or Horace Vernet would have loved to paint in brilliant and vivid tints. The lake shone out before me in a long sheet of deep-green colour, wild fern-clad mountains rose up along its course, miniature bays swept in graceful curves round their base, and high peaks and jutting headlands, fringed with spreading trees, cast their fantastic shadows upon the limpid surface of the water, around which the bright pumice rock contrasted pleasantly with the deep foliage of the vegetation as it wound along the serpentine shores of the lake. At the farther end, and right in the centre of the beautiful expanse of water, the small flat-topped island of Motutawa rose from a dense growth of pohutukawa trees, and as the fleeting rays of the sun flashed over it, and the darkness came marching along, the gold and the blue and the crimson and carmine of the sky seemed to mingle with the deep-green water and variegated hues of the lake, and to produce a picture which would have enchanted the eye of the beholder even on the plains of heaven. This sunset on Rotokakahi was certainly one of the grandest effects of light and shade I have ever beheld.

It was evening when I reached Te Wairoa, a native settlement situated in a deep gorge, which appeared at some time to have formed a connection between Rotokakahi and Lake Tarawera. It is hemmed in on all sides by rugged ranges, and it now only serves as a gate as it were to the wonders of the lakes beyond, and over which the great mountains known as Moerangi and Tokimiha stand as sentries. The Wairoa River, flowing out of Rotokakahi, winds through the old native settlement of Kaiteriria, and flowing in the direction of Lake Tarawera, leaps over a precipice of nearly a hundred feet in the form of a foaming cascade, about which the greenest of ferns and mosses grow in wonderful luxuriance. The settlement is small, and consists of clusters of native huts surrounded by small gardens and deep thickets of sweet-briar.

NATIVE WOMAN, LAKE COUNTRY.

The natives of this place appeared to be robust and healthy, and I noticed among the men some very fine specimens of the noble savage. In fact, from time immemorial the men of these parts have been noted for their giant physique. At one time they were among the most warlike of the great Arawa tribe, but in these degenerate days they have a marked predilection for raw rum and strong tobacco. They formerly tilled the soil, but now they are not by any means industrious, although they fish in Tarawera sometimes, when all other food is scarce, and in the proper season they reap a fair harvest by "interviewing" tourists, whom they are fond of coaxing into their runanga house, where they will undertake to sing hymns or dance the haka,[30] according to the inducements held out by the travelling pakeha.

At daylight I left Te Wairoa, to cross Lake Tarawera to the Terraces. Up to this time I had been travelling only with a native guide, but a party had been formed at one of the hotels to hire the boat which is used to convey visitors across the lake, so I joined it. There were four ladies and three of the sterner sex. We strolled through the native settlement, where most of the whares were hidden from view by a dense growth of sweet-briar, which wafted its pleasant odour through the balmy air, and then we followed down a steep pathway fringed with spreading trees, which led through the Waituwhera gorge to a narrow inlet of the lake, where we embarked.

I had hoped to find a big war-canoe ready manned by half-naked warriors, waiting to convey us to the greatest wonder of the lakes, but, in place of that, we got into a craft built like a whale-boat, and manned by a stalwart crew of Maoris, some of whom affected striped calico shirts and white trousers, while others were satisfied with scant garments of a less attractive kind. With crew, or rather "all told," we mustered sixteen souls.

There was at least one distinguished personage among the crowd, and whom I at first took to be "chief fugleman" or captain, but I soon found out that he had only come on board to get a lift across the lake. This individual was a tall, well-built old man of some seventy summers, with splendidly defined Maori features, which were elaborately tattooed after the most improved native fashion, the thin blue lines and curves running round his mouth, over his nose, and across his forehead to the very roots of his hair, and I could see at a glance that he was a grand type of a savage of the old school which is now unfortunately fast passing away. His only covering was a scant shirt, and a tartan shawl swathed tightly round his gaunt form. In one hand he carried a big hunk of bread, at which he munched as we glided along, varying the operation now and again by a drink of water from the lake, which he scooped into his mouth with the palm of his hand; while in the other he grasped, not a mere, as he might have done of old, but a copy of the Maori newspaper, Te Korimako, and which he seemed to guard with as much jealousy as a Londoner might do a copy of the Times when travelling on a penny steam boat on the Thames. If the old man had guarded a pakeha paper in the same way I would have taken no notice of it, because I would have imagined that he had brought it along with him to wrap up what he could not eat of his frugal repast. But the Te Korimako was in his own language, and I make no doubt that the antiquated heathen knew of one or two tidbits in it that he would read and discuss round the camp fire of his tribe. He sat alongside me in the prow of the boat, and Sophia, the guide, sat crouched at my feet, and when I asked her what his name was, she replied, "Rangihewa," at which the old man smiled and said, "No, no! me Georgi Grey." At the time of the war, Rangihewa was a noted chief, and a great fighting-man.

As I have already mentioned Sophia's name, which is echoed over the hills of Tarawera with as much frequency as is that of Hinemoa at Rotorua, but perhaps not with quite as much of romance, I think I cannot do better than to give a sketch of her here. In appearance, at first glance, Sophia was remarkable. She was about medium height, comely of form, with well-modelled features, a nose slightly aquiline, lips slightly tattooed, a pair of big dark eyes, and a thick cluster of raven hair, which fell in a weird way over her well-formed head and shoulders. She walked with a firm step, and with the gait of a drum-major. When she came into the boat she was shoeless and stockingless, and just below the knees fell a bright scarlet flannel petticoat, and over this again a blue skirt tucked up about her waist, a korowhai or native shawl was swathed round her ample bust, her hat of plated rush was lined with pink, and turning up on one side suited her à merveille. In her mouth was a short black pipe, while round her neck was a cord from which depended a greenstone tiki,[31] and which like all other tikies I had ever seen, was modelled after the fashion of a small, flattened-out, lop-sided baby. She was a half-caste of the Ngapuhi tribe, was born at Russell, spoke English with much fluency and grace, had been twice married, and had assisted in a small way to replenish the earth by becoming the mother of fifteen children. For the past twelve years Sophia has acted the part of guide, philosopher, and friend to thousands of tourists who have visited these parts, and in this way her history has become identified with the place where she reigns almost with the power of a petty queen.

As our boat glided onward to the wild chants of the Maoris, all the varied beauties of Tarawera unfolded themselves with magical effect before the view. We passed out of an arm of the lake with a picturesque headland on our port side, clothed in the greenest hues, and which was formerly the site of an old pa known as Ruakiria. From this point, the broad waters of the lake opened out before us; the sun shone brightly from the cloudless sky, and the golden rays gilding the calm blue surface, and shooting through the overhanging trees that fringed the lake, reflected their gnarled branches and plumed heads in a thousand fantastic forms in the depths below.

The water of Tarawera was so limpid and transparent that we could see far down below the surface and discern the big rocks and decaying giants of the forest which lay scattered about its bed as if hurled there by the throes of an earthquake, while every now and again we could behold the gleam of the shoals of fish indigenous to the lake, or the flash of the golden carp, introduced by Sir George Grey, and which here attain to a wonderful size. The lake, which is seven miles long by about five miles broad, was evidently at some period or another the centre of a widely extended volcanic action, as evidenced by the igneous rocks which line its shores, as well as by the rugged peaks which add grandeur to its scenery.

On every side of the lake bold mountains, with conical peaks and serrated ridges, rose up from the very edge of the water, covered to the summits with a rich growth of giant-like vegetation, whose varied tints of green were resplendent with the bright crimson blossom of the pohutukawa tree, which here attains to a colossal size. Picturesque headlands jutted out into the water, deep bays, broad valleys, and weird gorges came before the view at every turn, and the scenery was so wild, so grand, and so varied that one hardly knew which part of it to admire the most.

The eastern arm of the lake formed the outlet to the Tarawera river—the Awa-o-te Atua, or "river of the gods;" beyond the grand volcanic cone of Putauaki rose to a height of over 2000 feet, while right in front of our course the majestic outline of Mount Tarawera towered in the form of a colossal, truncated cone, with steep, sloping sides, tinted with red oxide of iron and shining obsidian, which made it look as if it were just cooling from the terrific heat of volcanic fires. It appeared as if, at some period or another, this rock-bound mountain had been much higher than now, but that nature, being dissatisfied with her work, had snapped it in twain by one tremendous blow, and caused the rugged fracture to assume the shape of a gigantic spiked crown. The stupendous form of this giant mountain not only adds grandeur to Tarawera, as it rises in sublime majesty a thousand feet above the lake, but it is a beacon for miles around the lake district, over which it presides like a mighty monarch, and when "King Tarawera" frowns dark beneath his craggy diadem the natives "look out for squalls." Since time immemorial Mount Tarawera has been renowned in Maori song and legend, and, among other tales connected with it, a monster taniwha, or fabulous green dragon, gifted with cannibal proclivities, is said to haunt it, while in its dark caves the bones of countless warrior chiefs of the Arawas lie guarded by the mystic tapu.

Steering our light craft, which seemed to quiver under the firm, steady stroke of her dark crew, so as to bring Mount Tarawera on our "port quarter," we entered Te Ariki, a wide inlet at the southern end of the lake, and when we had rounded the rocky headland known as Moura, the hills and valleys spread themselves out in a splendid amphitheatre of enchanting scenery, the trees and creeping vines mirrored themselves in the water, where they seemed to glide beneath us like a fairy forest as we swept along, while a cloud of steam rising in the distance told us that we were fast approaching the wonders of Rotomahana.

We hauled up in front of a native village where there were one or two whares, and here old Rangihewa got out of the boat to wade ashore, and, wrapping his shawl about his neck, pulled up his shirt to prevent it from getting wet, but utterly regardless of consequences, and then bidding us farewell by a wave of his hand, and a tremendous grin which made his tattoo marks double up into a curious network over his face, he entered the door of a hut with a majestic gait, and with the Te Korimako under his arm. Here we purchased a couple of kits of kouras[32] from a native woman who waded into the water almost alfresco, with an india-rubber-looking baby on her back, and then we headed for the farther end of the bay, where a picturesque-looking Maori settlement added a pleasant charm to the beauties of the surrounding landscape. We landed at this point, and an attenuated, wiry old chief, as thin as a match, and with a very scant wardrobe, put off in a dilapidated canoe to bid us welcome, and to annex any stray bawbees or figs of tobacco that might fall in his way. Here the party was divided, the ladies embarking in the canoe to go up the Kaiwaka stream, and to join us at Rotomahana, while we, the sterner sex, walked a mile through the manuka scrub, following the attractive red petticoat of Sophia.

FOOTNOTES:

[29] The New Zealand glowworm, called by the natives Piritana, is a small grub, inhabiting caves and damp places; it is surrounded by a slimy coating, through which radiates a brilliant phosphoric light.

[30] Haka, a lewd dance, in which both men and women take part.

[31] The tiki is worn by Maori women as a kind of sacred charm.

[32] Koura, a small cray-fish, common in the lakes, and much prized by the natives as an article of food.

[CHAPTER VIII.]

THE TERRACES.

Te Tarata—Beauty of the terrace—The formation—The crater—A sensational bath—Ngahapu—Waikanapanapa—A weird gorge—Te Aua Taipo—Kakariki—Te Whatapohu—Te Huka—Te Takapo—Lake Rotomahana—Te Whakataratara—Te Otukapurangi—The formation—The cauldron.

When we had walked about a mile through the scrub, guided by the stately strides of Sophia, we ascended the summit of a low hill which looked down upon Lake Rotomahana, whose green-tinted waters, surrounded by clouds of steam, shone with an emerald-like brightness in the sunlight, while immediately in front of us the White Terrace, or famed Te Tarata, burst upon the view like a glittering heap of frozen snow just fresh from heaven. We were still some hundreds of yards from it, with the Kaiwaka flowing below, and although at first glance fair Te Tarata looked chaste and beautiful enough beneath the golden light, it appeared as if her proportions were somewhat cramped and stunted, and I began mentally to question the wisdom of Nature in not placing the wondrous monument of her handiwork higher up on the slope of the mountain which decked the delicate outline of the terrace in a variegated fringe of green. To my eye, the crystallized structure of pure white silica as it fell in congealed waves, as it were, from the steaming cauldron above, appeared too flat, and required height to add more effect to its grandeur, while the rugged mountain, which formed its background, as it rose above a vapoury cloud of steam, looked dwarfed and insignificant in comparison with the giant form of Mount Tarawera, which frowned in silent majesty from beneath its spiked crown, as if eager to annihilate everything that failed to come up to its own idea of ponderous beauty. Presently we descended the hill on which we stood, and crossed Kaiwaka by the canoe which had brought up the ladies, and, after picking our way through a small scrub, we suddenly came into the open, when, as if by the magic touch of an enchanter's wand, the whole scene changed, and Te Tarata, gleaming still whiter in the sun, rose in grand, yet delicate proportions high above our heads. The white ethereal vapour wreathed its summit, like a graceful summer cloud, the rugged hill which held Te Tarata, as it were, in its arms, stood out in bold relief against the clear blue sky, and Nature, true to the inspired genius of her marvellous creative power, stood revealed in all her pristine loveliness.

I had seen the Himalayas and the Alps, the Blue Mountains of Tartary, the Rocky Mountains, and the Sierra Nevadas—all these were ponderously grand and awe-inspiring. I had sailed over the principal lakes of Europe and America, floated down the Nile, the Ganges, the Yangtze Kiang, the Missouri, and the Mississippi, through the thousand islands of the St. Lawrence, and up and down innumerable other rivers, all fair and beautiful. I had beheld the giant marvels of the Yosemite, and stood by the thrilling waters of Niagara; but for delicate, unique beauty, for chaste design, and sublime detail of construction never had I gazed upon so wonderful a sight as Te Tarata. It seemed as if Nature had created the wonders of the lakes and mountains of this fair region with all the marvels of fire and water after the most enchanting design of earthly beauty, and had then gone into the realms of fable and romance, and thrown in a piece of Fairyland to complete the picture; or as if the gods, when they called these sublime works into being, had fashioned Te Tarata as a throne to recline upon whilst they gazed in admiration upon the beauties of their wondrous creations.

As we looked upwards the whole outline of the terrace assumed a semicircular form, which spread out at its base in a graceful curve of many hundreds of feet, as it sloped gently down to the margin of the lake. Then broad, flat, rounded steps of pure white silica rose tier above tier, white and smooth as Parian marble, and above them terrace after terrace mounted upward, rounded and semicircular in form, as if designed by the hand of man, guided by the inspiration of the Divine Architect. All were formed out of a delicate tracery of silica which appeared like lacework congealed into alabaster of the purest hue. Each lamination, or fold, of this beautiful design was clearly and marvellously defined, and as the glittering warm water came rippling over them in a continuous flow, Te Tarata sparkled beneath the sun as if bedecked with diamonds and myriads of other precious gems. Crystal pools, shaped as if to resemble the form of shells and leaves, and filled to their brims with water, blue and shining as liquid turquoise, charmed the eye as we mounted to every step, while around the edges the bright crystals of silica had formed encrustations which made them appear as if set in a margin of miniature pearls. Every successive terrace seemed to spring up in grander proportions from the one immediately below it as we approached the summit, not in formal angular-shaped steps, but in flat-topped elevations, with rounded edges and sweeping curves, from which the wet, glittering silica hung in the shape of sparkling stalactites, which, interlacing themselves and mingling together, formed a delicate and almost transparent fringe which looked like a fantastic network of icicles, so exquisitely beautiful in appearance and so delicately formed as to appear as if fashioned by the magic touch of a fairy hand. Mounting upward and upward where it seemed sacrilege for the booted foot of man to tread, and where the snowy, crisp, silicious crystal formed a carpet-like covering beneath the feet, we reached the summit, and sat down upon a cluster of rocks which rose in fantastic shape upon the very margin of the cup-shaped crater.

I found the crater of Te Tarata to be formed by a milk-white circular basin, of 200 feet in diameter, filled to overflowing with boiling transparent water, in which the clear azure tints seemed to vie in splendour with the ethereal blue of the heavens. Here the hissing liquid, in a constant state of ebullition, bubbled and seethed in the form of a boiling fountain, from which a waving cloud of steam floated constantly upward, tinted with the golden rays from above, and the deep blue from beneath, while immediately behind the pool rose the steep sides of the adjacent mountain, shaped so as to form a semicircular wall, which rose from the opposite margin of the pool, striped by the action of fire and water in red and white rock, and steaming as if from the heat of the boiling fountain below. Around on every side a thick vegetation of variegated hues bordered the splendid terrace on every side; ferns, mosses, and wild flowers fringed every line and curve of its graceful outline, and the crystal white, the azure blue, the vivid green, and the golden light all mingling together, and reflecting their tints over fair Te Tarata and the lake below, produced one of the grandest and most charming scenes ever designed by the divine hand of the Creator.

When we had feasted our eyes upon the chaste marvels of Te Tarata, the ladies filed slowly away, as if spellbound, while we (the sterner sex) walked leisurely down the crystal steps to about the centre of the terrace, where lay an oval-shaped basin, about forty feet long by twenty feet broad, filled to the brim with water of the purest blue. In the midst of a small clump of manuka, which clustered on the very margin of the terrace, as if eager to participate in its beauty, we divested ourselves of our outward garb of civilization, and stood beneath the glowing rays of the sun in the primitive costume of man free and untrammelled, as when "wild in the woods the noble savage ran." It was now that I fully realized that soft, soothing, magical effect which one invariably experiences when devoid of all restraint, one is about to partake of a pleasure which one has never experienced before. To look around at the sublime wonders of Te Tarata, and then plunge head first into the alabaster pool of liquid turquoise, and to feel that the soft, pellucid liquid that had been for thousands of years, nay, countless ages, building up that wondrous monument of unrivalled splendour would wrap me in its warm embrace, and impart, if only for a moment, its soft, soothing influence to the heated body, was a pleasure, the anticipation of which only seemed to make me the more eager to revel in its enjoyment. There was not a single speck to mar the delicate beauty of the crystal basin, the blue lustre of the water, nor the white virgin purity of the silicious pearls around its brink. One glance at the enchanting scene around me, and, as I shot beneath the shining surface, like an arrow from a bow, the soft, heated water closed over me, and for the instant I seemed to be gliding into the realms of eternal bliss,

Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest.