Lake District of Tasmania.—Mount Wellington.—Kangaroos.—The Big Trees.—A Serenade.—The Albatross.—Marksmanship at Sea.—Dust of the Ocean.—A Storm.—Franklin's Proposition.—A Feathered Captive.—Bluff Oysters.—Most Southerly Hotel in the World.—Invercargill.—Historical Matters.—Geographical.—The Climate of New Zealand.—Colonial Hospitality.
Lake District of Tasmania.—Mount Wellington.—Kangaroos.—The Big Trees.—A Serenade.—The Albatross.—Marksmanship at Sea.—Dust of the Ocean.—A Storm.—Franklin's Proposition.—A Feathered Captive.—Bluff Oysters.—Most Southerly Hotel in the World.—Invercargill.—Historical Matters.—Geographical.—The Climate of New Zealand.—Colonial Hospitality.
The river Derwent, which rises far inland where the beautiful lakes St. Clair and Sorell are embosomed, itself broadens into an inland lake six miles wide, where it forms the harbor of Hobart, famous for the summer regattas that are rowed upon its surface. Here the largest maritime craft that navigates these seas can lie close to the wharf and the warehouses to discharge cargo, while the fine large stone Custom House is within pistol-shot of the shore. Let us emphasize the importance of a visit to the Lake District of Tasmania, where the lakes just referred to lie in their lonely beauty,—now overhung by towering cliffs, like those bordering a Norwegian fjord, and now edged by pebbly beaches, where choice specimens of agate and carnelian abound. They are dotted here and there by verdant isles with sedge-lined shores, and present sheets of a glassy surface unbroken for miles in extent. The neighborhood is one of primeval loneliness, invaded only by an occasionaltraveller; but a brief visit to Lake St. Clair and Lake Sorell leaves a delightful picture upon the memory not soon to be obliterated.
The charming cloud-effects which hang over and about the lofty hills that environ the capital of Tasmania recall vividly those of the Lake of Geneva, near Chillon, and the Dent du Midi; while the Derwent itself, reflecting the hills upon its blue and placid surface, forms another pleasing resemblance to Lake Leman. We should not forget to mention that in ascending Mount Wellington, the lion of Tasmanian scenery, where the visitor reaches a height of about two thousand feet, the Old World ocean floor is reached and clearly defined, as we have seen it exhibited among the heights of Norwegian mountains. Here there are plenty of lithoidal remains of the former denizens of the ocean,—fossils telling the strange and interesting story of terrestrial changes that have taken place in the thousands upon thousands of years that are past. Hobart is one of the very few cities with which we are familiar whence Alpine elevations can be so easily reached. Its broad streets run to the base of snow-covered mountains at one end, and at the other terminate on the busy shore of the harbor.
A walk up the precipitous sides of Mount Wellington affords special delight to the lover of botanical science. The ferns to be found in the gullies and elsewhere are singularly attractive in their great variety and natural beauty of combinations. Onespot is so marked and monopolized by them as to be called Fern-Tree Bower. The difference between this species of plant as found in Tasmania and those indigenous to the mainland is that the former maintain their entire freshness and summer colors all through the year,—though this is a characteristic in a general way of all Australian vegetation, as seen in the perpetual and vigorous freshness of the forests. On this mountain-side mosses, lichens, and blue-striped gentians are mingled in close companionship, with here and there dainty specimens of the white wood-sorrel,—lowly, but lovely examples of Nature's gardening. Here was also seen the cabbage-palm twenty feet high, imparting a marked tropical aspect to this cool region. Some delicate specimens of ferns were seen depending from the trunks of trees in damp and low-lying places, where they also lined the shallow water-ways.
On returning from an excursion from Mount Wellington we saw some domesticated kangaroos. This animal can easily be tamed, and will then follow a person about like a dog, evincing remarkable attachment and intelligence. One of those which we saw followed its mistress, the lady of the house, wherever she went, but would follow no one else. When she sat down, it came and nestled by her side with all the confidence imparted by a sense of perfect protection. The kangaroo has a wonderfully expressive face, more than half human, with a head and large plaintive eyes quite like those of a fawn of thered-deer species. The ears are long, nervously active and extremely delicate, seeming to be almost transparent when seen against a strong light. Tasmania once swarmed with kangaroos, but the hunters here, as upon the mainland, have nearly obliterated the species. Full-grown males sometimes measure six feet when standing upright, and weigh about one hundred and fifty pounds. The sharp claws of the short fore-feet are powerful weapons, and if brought to bay by the dogs when hunted, the male kangaroo will sometimes turn upon his pursuers and with his claws disembowel the largest dog. When unmolested, however, they use these fore-paws like a squirrel, holding their food and carrying it to their mouths with them as we do with our hands.
The fish-market of Hobart was to us quite interesting. The local denizens of the sea here seem to have a physiognomy, so to speak, all their own, differing in shape, colors, and general aspect from those with which we were elsewhere familiar. Long, slim, pointed fish are here a favorite; and others, so like young sharks as to make one shudder at the thought of eating them, found ready purchasers. The lobsters were quite unlike our New England species; indeed, they are here known as cray-fish, or craw-fish. They have, in place of a smooth, soft shell, a corrugated one, pimply like the red face of an inveterate toper, and so hard are they as to require a hammer to break out the meat that forms the body, while they are entirely lacking in the claws whichform so prominent a portion of our common lobster. The oysters here seem to be equally uninviting, as the shells are so crumpled that it becomes a mystery where the knife should be inserted to obtain the very small quantity of edible matter forming the body of the oyster. How Wareham, Blue Point, or Shrewsbury Bay oysters would astonish people who are satisfied with these apologies for first-class bivalves!
About twenty miles from Hobart one finds a forest of the remarkable gum-trees of which we have all read,—trees which exceed in height and circumference the mammoth growths of our own Yosemite Valley, and fully equal those of Victoria. The immediate locality which contains them is known as the Huon District. A walk among these forest giants fills one with mingled emotions of wonder and delight. Surrounded by beautiful fern-trees nearly forty feet high, whose plumed caps tremble and vibrate in the breeze, one's eyes seek the lofty tops of these grand forest monarchs which are nearly lost in the sky to which they aspire; no church steeples, no cathedral pinnacle reared by the hand of man, but only mountain peaks reach so far heavenward. These forests are so abundant in their yield that local steam saw-mills are constantly engaged in cutting and preparing the lumber in various dimensions for the market. All the trees are by no means of the great size of which we have spoken, and yet all are extraordinary in this respect. The people of Hobart claim that they can show trees in the Huon forests taller and largerthan any to be found in Victoria. We measured only one in the former District, which had lately fallen, the dimensions of which we can vouch for; namely, three hundred and thirty feet in length or height, and seventy-one feet in circumference. The average reader will not be able to realize the remarkable figures here given as applying to the trunk of a tree, except by comparison with some familiar object.
A century ago, before Tasmania was settled by the English, the whole country was covered with dense forests, remarkable for the size of individual trees. Even now the western half of the island remains mostly unchanged and unexplored, traversed by wild mountain ranges, full of deep, gloomy, and nearly inaccessible ravines shut in by giant precipices. Many of these districts were untrodden even in the days of the aborigines. The abundance of land already available to accommodate the present sparse population, together with the impenetrable nature of the forest growth of the west coast, have caused that region to remain unexplored.
Our hotel in Hobart was the Orient, which is situated upon high ground; and by ascending to its roof at night a grand, awe-inspiring view of the heavens was obtained,—the blue vault being thickly strewn with stars. As we stood gazing at them our thoughts wandered back to the period of the Nativity and the journey of the Wise Men. The surrounding hills terraced by dwellings which were brilliantly lighted, and which crept up to the sky line, made it difficultto decide just where the artificial lights ended and heaven's lamps began. It is marvellous how clear and bright the constellations and single stars shine forth in these latitudes presided over by the Southern Cross,—which was in the zenith, emphasized by the great stars in Centaurus pointing toward it, and accompanied by the mysterious belt of the Via Lactea and the illumined Magellan Clouds.
"This brave o'er-hanging firmament;This majestical roof fretted with golden fire."
The tardy moon was somewhere behind the dark shadowy range of hills, but the stars filled the valley and plain with a soft, dreamy, exquisite light. Just at that moment a band of local musicians broke forth with the air of "Home, Sweet Home," as a serenade of welcome to the "Tasmanian Nightingale," Miss Amy Sherwin, who had returned that day to her native land from a foreign professional tour. A lonely, unheeded stranger was also there, under the deep sea-blue canopy studded with stars, whom those familiar strains moved to quickened tears. Presently, over the height of Mount Wellington a broad light was gradually developed, covering the mantle of snow with silver spangles, and the moon burst forth upon the scene with a calm, mellow radiance, sweeping grandly on its upward course. Then the vocalist came out upon a balcony, and in her clear contralto voice gave the words of the touching song, to the delight of the welcoming group below. But one maynot delay for sentiment. "This world is a bog," said Queen Elizabeth, "over which we must trip lightly. If we pause we sink!"
This was our last night in Hobart. The next day we sailed for New Zealand. A state-room was secured on board the steamship "Mararoa," which had just arrived from Sydney, and which was bound for the east coast of the country just named. The ship sailed at mid-day, and as we steamed down the Derwent seaward we were followed by a myriad of Cape-pigeons, a small graceful bird of the gull family, with which we have not before chanced to meet.
The twelve miles of river between Hobart and the open sea virtually forms the harbor of this city, just as Sydney harbor begins when the "Heads" are passed seven miles below the capital. The undulating shore of the river on either side was beautified by rural residences and cultivated fields near the water's edge. But a little way inshore we could see a continuous range of elevations, backed by those still higher; and finally in the distance we descried a series of cloud-embraced mountains. As soon as the mouth of the river was reached the ship's course was laid a little south of east, the dull green of the water on soundings changing to the navy-blue of the broad ocean. We were then fairly launched on our twelve-hundred-mile voyage. The prevailing winds of the season blow from the west, which with the Australian current and the Antarctic drift were all in our favor, and so the good ship sped bravely on her way. The"Mararoa" is a fine vessel of twenty-five hundred tons' measurement, possessing most admirable passenger accommodations; so fine, indeed, were her appointments as to make her seem to us rather out of place upon a track of ocean so little frequented by travellers. It appeared on inquiry, however, that she was originally built for the route between San Francisco and Australia, but proved insufficient in freight capacity.
The tedium of the voyage was beguiled by watching critically the graceful movements of the wandering albatross, the fateful bird of nautical romance, which is seen in large numbers below the thirtieth parallel of south latitude. The peculiarities of this sea-bird's flight are a constant marvel, for it scarcely ever plies its wings, but literally sails upon the wind in any desired direction. What secret power, we wondered, could so propel him for hundreds of rods, with an upward trend at the close? If for a single moment he partially lights upon the water to seize some object of prey, there is a trifling exertion evinced in rising again until he is a few feet above the waves, when once more he sails, with or against the wind, upon outspread, immovable wings. With no apparent inclination or occasion for pugnacity, the albatross is yet armed with a tremendous beak, certainly the most terrible of its kind attached to any of the feathered tribe. It is from six to eight inches long, and ends in a sharp-pointed hook of extreme strength and hardness.
A preserved specimen of the albatross was mounted in the saloon of the "Mararoa," as an ornament appropriate for a vessel sailing in the latitudes where this bird-monarch roams. This was easily measured, and though not of the largest size reached by them, its dimensions seemed to us extraordinary. The body measured three feet in length, from the beak to the end of the short tail; the spread of wing from tip to tip was ten feet eight inches. The web-feet were seven inches across, and armed with three sharp claws an inch and a quarter long; these were very strong, and capable of sustaining twenty or thirty pounds. The prevailing color of the albatross is a slate-white over the upper part of the body and wings; but the breast and under surface generally are of pure white. Of course the birds vary in color, but this is the most common description. Ermine itself is not whiter than the breast of the albatross; living in the air and bathing constantly in the sea, there is no encounter liable to soil its purity. The feathers are pearl-like in their lustre. It has been said that if he pleased, the albatross might breakfast at the Cape of Good Hope and dine in New York, so swift is it in flight and so powerful on the wing.
While we were watching from the ship's deck the tireless movements of these birds, an officer of the "Mararoa" told us that on the previous voyage some English passengers who had rifles with them shot at the graceful creatures, but found it almostimpossible to hit them. The deck of a vessel in motion was under any circumstances an uncertain base from which to take aim; moreover, the birds were always on the wing; and again, the missiles were bullets, not shot. It is particularly difficult to calculate distances under such circumstances, and so these marksmen found it. An albatross was sometimes barely touched by the leaden messenger, so that the tip of its wing perhaps shed a few feathers, or a similar effect was produced upon some part of its body; but this did not serve to frighten them, as the detonation of fire-arms was so unusual a circumstance at sea. They had not learned the trick of the rifle, and would require to see the fall of more than one of their number following its report, before they would connect cause and effect in such a way as to be a warning to them. These birds are hardy, and must be touched in some vital point in order to disable them; a slight wound would not affect them any more than the partial hooking of a fish affects it,—failing, as is often the case, to prevent it from again biting at the fatal barb. At last one of the birds at which the Englishmen of the "Mararoa" were firing was struck in the body, and fell headlong into the sea. Then it was demonstrated that albatross nature is as cannibalistic as that of the Russian wolf. The wounded, bleeding, and helpless bird was almost instantly fallen upon by its late companions and torn quickly to pieces to fill their greedy crops. "That," said a lady passengerwho had overheard the officer's story, "was not only cruel, but terribly unnatural." The officer's respectful answer was very significant. "Nay, madam," said he, "it was only too natural!"
While dreamily watching the throbbing surface of this mystery of waters through which our good ship steadily ploughed her way, the thought occurred to us of how many uses the various seas and oceans were to man besides forming the great pathway of commerce reaching to the uttermost parts of the globe. The animals it produces are among the mightiest and the smallest, from monstrous whales and walruses down to the tiny animalcules. What an inexhaustible supply of food it yields for the support of man! Its contributions to various industries are almost limitless, while the treasuries of art are enriched by the abundance of tortoise-shell, mother-of-pearl, and the lovely pearl gem itself, with delicate shells, coral, amber, and other choice articles of decoration. A very interesting chapter might be written upon the prolific yield of the sea in the various departments of food, industry, and art. While we were musing thus, a school of dolphins, as they are often called, appeared on the surface near the ship's side. The proper name of this fish is the porpoise. The dolphin belongs to the whale family, breathing atmospheric air; while the porpoise has no blow-holes, but receives the water into its mouth to be thrown out at the gills. Porpoises seem to be the most sportive fish that swim in the sea, and while they remained intheir playful mood near our ship, it was amusing to watch their gambols.
At night the phosphorescence of these lonely waters lying just north of the Antarctic Circle, between southern Tasmania and New Zealand, was indeed marvellous. Liquid fire is the only term which will properly express its flame-like appearance. A bucketful was drawn and deposited upon deck; while it remained still it appeared dark and like any other water, but when agitated it emitted scintillations of light like the stars. A drop of this water placed under the microscope was found to be teeming with living and active organisms. A muslin bag was suspended for a few moments over the ship's side and then drawn up, and after being permitted to drip for a few seconds the contents left in the bag were placed in a glass tumbler, when the quantity of living forms was found to be so great and abundant as to be visible to the naked eye. No two of these minute creatures seemed to be of similar form; the variety was infinite, and their activity incessant. Most of these animalcules are so small that if it were not for the microscope we should never even know of their existence.
One day at table a lady passenger complained of the dust of the sea, which she said got into her eyes and caused them to smart severely, and also soiled her clothing. Others laughed at her, and declared that there could be no dust at sea; but they were mistaken. There is a salt dust which rises from the spray and impregnates everything, even filling one's mouth witha saline taste. While the sun shines, this deposit, like the dew on land, is less active and perceptible; but to walk the deck at night is to become covered with a thin coating of salt dust, so fine indeed as to be hardly noticeable, but which in time becomes sufficiently crystallized to be obvious to the eye. The dust of the sea is no fable. The officer who stands his night-watch on the bridge will testify to this fact; and his cabin steward will tell you that he has often to resort to something more potent than a whisk-broom to cleanse clothing which has been exposed to sea-dust.
Winter upon the sea and winter upon the land in this extreme southern region are two very different things. On shore (save on the mountain-tops) there is scarcely any snow, the climate being mild and equable; but upon the ocean the fickle element does not forget boldly to assert itself. Three uneventful days carried us nearly a thousand miles upon our way toward New Zealand; but as night came on at the close of the third day, the barometer—which had been falling ominously for some time, after reaching a most significant figure—suddenly jumped several points, foretelling the heavy weather into which we were now rapidly driven. Everything had been made as snug on board the "Mararoa" as was possible, which was only the part of prudence, for the ship began to waltz in the wildest fashion to the hoarse music of the on-coming storm. It was a dismal and trying night, the raging sea breaking over and aboutthe ship, drenching everything fore and aft, and causing the stout iron hull to tremble all over like a delicate fern in the wind. It was so cold that it seemed strange that the water did not freeze where it struck the deck and the rigging. There were no means provided for heating the cabins or the saloon, and the result was that a shivering discomfort was realized everywhere. On, on we drove into the dense darkness, with extra lookouts stationed forward, although it was impossible to see half a ship's length ahead. Timid passengers blanched with fear, and most of those who had thus far escaped sea-sickness now succumbed to that dismal disorder. "He that will learn to pray, let him go to sea," says George Herbert. To undress before taking to one's berth was quite impossible, since both hands were required to keep the body from being thrown thither and hither like a ball; but once fairly in the berth, the friendly brace of the lee-board and the firm gripe of the metallic bars united, served to keep one in position. Sleep was out of the question, and so one was forced to exercise as much patience and philosophy as possible under the circumstances.
Sailing-vessels making this voyage, as we were told, carry casks of cheap oil, which in some cases they use to still the boisterous sea about them when "God maketh the deep to boil like a pot." Is it generally known that our own Benjamin Franklin first suggested, about a century ago, the carrying of oil to sea by vessels for this purpose? Our shrewdAmerican philosopher was also the first to propose, about the same period, that ship-builders should construct the hulls of vessels in water-tight compartments, thus affording them sufficient sustaining power to float when by accident portions of the hull became leaky or broken in. After the lapse of a century both precautions have been generally adopted. If oil can be used to good effect anywhere upon troubled waters, we should judge that it might be on the track of vessels between Tasmania and South New Zealand.
The longest night must have an end. The half-hour strokes of the sonorous ship's-bell rang upon the ear through the fierce howling of the gale, until the morning light finally broke, which seemed to be a signal for the abating of the storm, as by and by the sun rose bright and clear from behind the yet mountainous waves. No observation had been obtained on the previous day owing to the cloudy condition of the sky, so that it was impossible exactly to define our position; but dead reckoning showed we must be nearing the land, and as the sea began rapidly to subside, it was evident that we were under the lee of the shore. As the day advanced, the sun burned away the mist and revealed to us the mountains of the southern coast of New Zealand, with their tops clad in virgin white. Midway between summit and base cloud-wreaths decked the range of hills, which in the sun's rays seemed struggling with one another for precedence. We skirted the mainland for hours,encountering numerous islands, now and again opening dark mountain gorges which came down to the very shore, enabling one to look deep into the mysterious heart of the hills and discover new peaks extending far inland. Clouds of sea-martins wheeled about the ship, saluting us with strange cries, some alighting upon our very topmasts, where they paused for a moment and then launched into the air again. This sea-bird, in size between the common gull and the Cape-pigeon, is peculiar to this coast; we had never seen a live specimen before. As they settle upon the water or rise from it, their red legs become conspicuous, and are in singular contrast to their soft white bodies and light slate-colored wings. They are a tame and fearless bird, flying about the ship almost within arm's reach. One was secured by a foremast hand and brought aft, seeming to care no more for his temporary captivity than a domestic fowl would have done. Their feathery covering is exquisitely soft and glossy, the under part of the wings and the body having a covering as delicate as the downy plumage of young goslings. Our feathery captive when released joined his companions, and was saluted by loud cries of welcome.
The west and southwest coasts of New Zealand, which we were skirting, are indented with deep fjords almost precisely like the coast of Norway from Bergen to Hammerfest; and singular to say, these arms of the sea, like those of the far north, are much deeper than the contiguous ocean,—apractical evidence of their being of similar original formation. While we were remarking upon these peculiarities, the captain of the "Mararoa" recalled the fact that it is always the west coast of any land which is indented in this remarkable manner, let the cause be what it may.
Just as the sun set like a blazing fire-ball in the sea upon the western horizon, the ship rounded the bold promontory known as "the Bluff," and winding up the narrow channel into the harbor was soon moored to the one pier of the place. This was none too promptly done, for no sooner was the ship made fast than the darkness of night enshrouded both land and water.
A woman who had anticipated the arrival of the "Mararoa" had set up a temporary oyster-stand on the pier, by placing a couple of boards across two barrels, beside which she had raised a powerful blazing flambeau. Here she opened and dispensed fresh bivalves. Andsuchoysters we have rarely seen; they were in their prime, large, full, and perfect in flavor. Blue Points could not excel them. It seems that oysters are a specialty here, whence they are shipped in large quantities to Tasmania and Australia. It was a weird and curious picture presented by the group on the pier,—the blazing, flickering flambeau casting flashes upon the many faces, and all surrounded by deep shadows and darkness. Among the spectators of the ship's arrival who had come to the pier were a score of half-breeds,—Maori girlsand men, laughing and chattering like monkeys. A night's sleep, a quiet night in harbor and on board ship, was a needful process of recuperation after the experience of the previous one on a raging sea, and we rose wonderfully refreshed the next morning. At breakfast we were regaled with New Zealand oysters and fresh fish.
The Bluff—also known as Campbelltown—is located in the very track of storms, and is open to the entire sweep of the great Antarctic Ocean. Its shelving side, sloping toward the harbor, forms a sort of lee,—a sheltered position which is occupied by a pretty little fishing village of some sixty houses, with a population of less than a thousand. These people gain their living mostly from the neighboring sea, and from such labor as is consequent upon the occasional arrival of steamships on their way to the north. Here we took refreshment at the Golden Age Hotel,—a primitive little inn, quaint to the last degree, its reception-room ornamented with many species of stuffed birds, mostly sea-fowls, among which was a preserved specimen of the albatross even larger than the one whose dimensions we have already given. There was a well-preserved seal hanging from a hook in the wall; also a sword-fish, and a young shark of the man-eating species. On one side of this room was a glass case of curious shells, large and small; and on the opposite side was an open bar presided over by a ruby-nosed Bardolph.
The Golden Age is noticeable as being the mostsoutherlypublic house of entertainment in the world. Twelve months previous, being exactly one year to a day, we had partaken, at Hammerfest, in Norway, of the hospitality of the mostnortherlyhotel on the globe. When this coincidence was casually mentioned to the host of the Golden Age, he would have immolated us on the altar of his hospitality had we not discreetly retreated to the ship.
A single day was passed at the Bluff, a place so small that one could "do" it in an hour; and yet there was much of interest here to be observed. One is paid for ascending the high point of the Bluff, some nine hundred feet, by the fine view afforded of land and sea. Many half-caste people were observed, born of intermarriage between Europeans and the aborigines. Some of the young women of this descent were remarkable for possessing fine eyes, rich brown complexions, white teeth, clear-cut features, and a great wealth of long black hair. These answer to our quadroons of the Southern States in appearance, having the same dainty touch of color on the cheeks and lips. In figure they were tall and well-formed; but we were told that, like our quadroons, they are a short-lived race. There are a few half-breed men to be seen about the town, mostly engaged in service to the whites as boatmen and fishermen. They are said to make excellent and intelligent seamen.
Taking the cars at the Bluff one can run up to Invercargill, a distance of seventeen miles, consuming, however, a full hour in the transit. This was foundto be quite a pleasant and busy town of about eight thousand inhabitants, which has grown to its present condition very rapidly. We were told that twenty-five years ago it had less than a hundred inhabitants. It is now the chief town of what is known as the District of Southland,—a large and fertile district. The town is built upon a perfectly level plain; the streets are unusually wide, and the place is neat and thrifty. The principal thoroughfare is Dee Street, in which are the banks, insurance offices, the Post-Office, and the Athenæum. A liberal provision by those who laid out the town was made for its future growth, which is reasonably expected to be rapid on account of its commercial advantages. The buildings of Invercargill are substantial and handsome, including several fairly good hotels. Some building was observed to be in progress, and other evidences of growth and prosperity were manifest. The town is situated one hundred and fifty miles south of the city of Dunedin, with which it has considerable trade, and is the terminus of the Southern Trunk Line of New Zealand. The neighborhood is mostly taken up for pastoral and agricultural purposes, fruit-raising, and the like. There are valuable coal-fields here, and it is a considerable wool depot. Our visit was of the briefest, as we took the cars the same afternoon back to the Bluff, whence we were to sail northward.
It is a curious fact, probably remembered by few of our readers, that Franklin proposed in a printed article to colonize New Zealand from our owncountry, so highly did he regard the possible advantages to be thus derived. This plan, if it had been adopted, would have anticipated by nearly a hundred years the action of the English Government in that direction. As early as the year 1800 our whalers had learned to seek the sperm whale in these waters, and to enter the harbors of New Zealand for wood and water and to make necessary repairs. American sailors, as well as others, shipped on board these vessels, and while in port here took Maori mistresses; and the children who sprang from these unions became numerous, their descendants being at once recognized to-day. Such have generally sought European connections, and are occasionally found here and there in all parts of the country, frequently engaged in the walks of business life. It will be remembered that New Zealand did not become a recognized British colony until the year 1840. For three quarters of a century after Cook's first visit the native tribes remained in free possession of their country. It is true that England was constructively mistress of these islands by right of discovery, but she made no formal assumption of political domain until the period already named, when it was formed into a colony subordinate to the Government of New South Wales. Up to the year 1840 English and American trading-vessels and whalers bought and sold articles from the natives, mostly consisting of flax (the wild growth of the country), for which they paid in fire-arms and powder,—though the weapons thus disposed of to the Maoris were suchgenerally as had been condemned as useless in American or European lands. The sale of fire-arms to the islanders was stopped as soon as the English took formal possession; but in the mean time the Maoris had possessed themselves of sufficient weapons to make them dangerous enemies in the warfare which so soon became a settled condition of affairs between them and the white invaders. As early as 1815 white men of a venturous disposition began to settle in small numbers among the natives; but often their fate was to be roasted and eaten by cannibals. Before 1820 missionaries, no doubt influenced by truly Christian motives, came hither and devoted their lives to this people,—in more senses than one, as it is well known that they not infrequently met with a fate similar to that of their secular brethren.
In 1839 an incorporated association in London, called the New Zealand Company, sent out a ship loaded with emigrants to settle in the country. These were the pioneers who established the city of Wellington, the present capital of the islands. The country was still under the jurisdiction of New South Wales; but in 1841 it was constructed into an independent colony, and the first Legislative Council was held at Auckland. Thenceforth special settlements were regularly made by shipments from England; and in 1852 the Imperial Parliament granted the people of New Zealand a charter of self-government. By this act the sovereign power was vested in a General Assembly, consisting of aGovernor appointed by the Crown, and two Houses,—a Legislative Council, or Upper House, the members of which are nominated by the Government, and a House of Representatives chosen by the people at large.
Before taking the reader to the several cities embraced in the route we followed through New Zealand, a few preliminary and general remarks, embracing information which is the outgrowth of subsequent experience, may add interest to these pages and render our progress more intelligible. First, as to position, New Zealand lies as far south of the Equator as Italy does north of it. It is divided into the North and South Islands by Cook's Strait. The South Island is also known as Middle Island, to distinguish it more fully from Stewart Island, which belongs to the group, and which lies to the south of it. This last-named island is separated from Middle Island by Foveaux Strait, some fifteen or twenty miles across from the Bluff. It is about fifty miles long by thirty broad, and has a mountain range running through it, the loftiest peak of which is a trifle over three thousand feet high. There are some fishing hamlets here, but very few inhabitants. All these islands are believed to have once been a part of a great continent, which is now sunk in the sea.
The Southern Alps of the South Island, which were thus named by Captain Cook, are wooded up to the snow-line, the greatest height reached by any portion of the range being thirteen thousand feet;and let us add that in frosty grandeur they are unequalled outside the limits of Polar regions. Vast snow-fields and glaciers exist among them, whence flow icy streams to the lakes of the table-land. The southwest corner of the island, as already intimated, is peculiarly indented by glacial action. There are numerous large lakes in both the North and South islands, notably in the district called Southland, in the South Island, where there are twelve large bodies of fresh water. These lakes are usually called the Cold Lakes of New Zealand, in distinction from those in the North Island known as the Hot Lakes. Many of these bodies of water in both sections are of enormous depth and of great scenic beauty. One is often reminded of Scotland by the general scenery in New Zealand, both countries being characterized by dark, serrated mountains casting sombre shadows into still, deep bays. Lake Taupo in the central part of the North Island covers an area of two hundred and fifty square miles. There are numerous mountain ranges in the North especially, which are mostly covered with forests, and three giant snow-capped mountains,—Ruapehu, Tongariro, and Mount Egmont,—ranging from seven to ten thousand feet each in height. The several portions of these islands differ materially from one another; the strange volcanic developments of the North Island are not repeated in the South. Of local peculiarities we shall speak in detail as we progress.
It is not yet a hundred and twenty years sinceCaptain Cook first landed in New Zealand, and the numerous native population that then swarmed upon its shores have dwindled to a comparative shadow of a once formidable race. But it is the present, not the past, with which we have mostly to do,—the present aspect of mountains, valleys, rivers, and lakes; with the wonderful volcanic developments and present activity of submerged forces that are exhibited in this peculiar country. Though heroic deeds and historic associations have not hallowed these localities, they are sufficiently unique in their own inherent charms to be intensely attractive. One does not pause amid burning mountains, boiling springs, and rushing geysers, to dwell on the want of human or historic background; the marvellous sublimity of Nature is sufficient. The bleaching bones of men and of extinct enormous birds, found among the brown tussocks of these lonely plains and in these curious caves, tell of a period long past,—and yet a period unhistoric and unheroic. These pages will clearly show that there is no lack of grandeur and beauty in this isolated land, but there is an utter lack of pathos.
Unlike Australia, New Zealand is rarely visited by drought; the whole eastern coast, north and south, abounds in good natural harbors, while the rivers and streams are ever-flowing and innumerable. Though it is a mountainous country, it differs for instance from Switzerland, in that it has no lack of extensive plains, which seem to have been left by Nature readyto the hand of the farmer, requiring scarcely ordinary cultivation to insure large crops of cereals. The diversity of surface, as well as the fact that these islands extend over thirteen degrees of latitude, give New Zealand a varied climate; but it is a remarkably temperate one, its salubrity far surpassing that of England or any portion of the United States. While snow is never seen in the North Island except upon the highest mountain peaks, the plains of the South Island—as far south as Otago—are sometimes sprinkled with it, but only to disappear almost immediately. The rivers are generally destitute of fish, and the forests of game. It is no sportsman's country; but vegetation runs riot, the soil being remarkably fertile, clothing the wild lands with perpetual verdure and vigorous freshness. Persons competent to express an opinion, compare the climate in the north, say at Auckland, with that of Spain; the middle, represented by Wellington, with that of France; and the southern, say at Invercargill, with that of England. The area of the islands is about one hundred thousand square miles, being a few more than are contained in England, Wales, and Ireland combined. The entire coast line is four thousand miles in length. There are here nearly seventy million acres of land, forty millions of which are deemed worthy of cultivation. The soil being light and easily worked, favors the agriculturist, and New Zealand is free from all noxious animals and venomous reptiles.
There are other islands besides the two principalones named (adding Stewart Island), but they are too small to require mention. The wonderful collection of geysers, sulphurous springs, and natural baths of the North Island are famous all over the world, and we shall presently ask the reader to visit them with us. Slight shocks of earthquakes are not uncommon here, but only one serious volcanic eruption has occurred for many years. The remote situation of the country, surrounded by the greatest extent of ocean on the globe, has kept it in a measure unknown to the rest of the world, even in these days of rapid communication. Wellington, the capital, is about sixteen thousand miles, more or less, from the Colonial Office in London; in other words, New Zealand forms the nearest land to the actual antipodes of England. The precious metals are distributed over the land in gold-bearing quartz reefs, rich alluvial diggings, and in the sands of its many rivers; mines of tin and iron and other deposits are supplemented by an abundance of the most important of all minerals, coal. In 1861 the gold-fields were discovered in Otago, stimulating fresh immigration, until at the present writing the country contains in round numbers six hundred thousand souls.
In these general remarks let us not forget to express hearty appreciation of the pronounced hospitality of the people of these British Colonies, both in Australia and New Zealand. It was almost impossible to escape its generous importunity, or to steal from it a few hours daily for personal observation andreflection. Intelligent, kind-hearted persons sometimes forget that even the best meant hospitality may become oppressive by over-effusiveness. We might have passed free over every railroad in Australia and New Zealand, the coasting steamers had a cabin quite at our service without charge, and even our hotel bills would have been handed to us receipted without pay, had we permitted it; but no service of whatever sort was accepted without the current charge for the same being paid. We wish, however, to bear testimony to the whole-heartedness which was so liberally displayed to a stranger. A chance newspaper paragraph printed by a Sydney journal on our first arrival, whose editor recognized the author's name, went the rounds of the Colonial press, and we were thus promptly recognized on appearing at each new locality.
As regards the matter of federation, spoken of in connection with Australia, it seemed to us hardly to apply to New Zealand, since this country is already one in this respect. There is no such folly recognized in New Zealand as a tariff between the different sections. As to federation with Australia, twelve hundred miles and more away across the sea, the citizens of Dunedin, Wellington, and Auckland say they do not see any possible advantage to accrue to them from it. On the contrary, they would lose more than they could by any possibility gain. New Zealand looks askance upon all high-tariff methods, and would gladly have free-trade. "We do not want to see public enterprise thus handicapped in Dunedin," said aprominent merchant of that city to us,—a sentiment echoed a few weeks later by an English resident doing business in Auckland, who said to us frankly, "We hope your country will keep up its high tariff; it suits us exactly. If you were to adopt free-trade principles in the United States you would eventually ruin the trade of England in the markets of the world."
The City of Dunedin.—Scotch Residents.—The Enchanter's Wand.—Chain-Cable Tramways.—Volcanic Effects.—The Salvation Army.—Local Gold-Fields.—Enormous Aggregate Product.—Trees and Flowers.—The Rabbit Pest.—Port Littleton.—Market Day in Christchurch.—An Interesting City.—Wonderful Extinct Bird.—Strange Record of an Unknown Race.—The New Zealand Forests.
The City of Dunedin.—Scotch Residents.—The Enchanter's Wand.—Chain-Cable Tramways.—Volcanic Effects.—The Salvation Army.—Local Gold-Fields.—Enormous Aggregate Product.—Trees and Flowers.—The Rabbit Pest.—Port Littleton.—Market Day in Christchurch.—An Interesting City.—Wonderful Extinct Bird.—Strange Record of an Unknown Race.—The New Zealand Forests.
We sailed from the Bluff at sunset on our return from Invercargill, having a boisterous voyage of fourteen hours to Dunedin, the chief city of Otago District, and indeed the chief city of New Zealand, if we make the number of inhabitants and the wealth of the place a criterion of comparison. Port Chalmers, situated a few miles below Dunedin, forms an outer harbor, so to speak; but vessels drawing twenty feet of water moor at the city wharves at high tide. We were told that the channel from the sea to the town was to be deepened so as to admit of vessels reaching the wharves at all stages of the tide, and that dredging for this purpose would begin at once. The lower harbor is land-locked, being surrounded by hills which slope gracefully down to the water's edge, the general conformation here recalling the scenery about the Lakes of Killarney. All the way up the river from Port Chalmers, a distance of nine miles, the banksare dotted with pleasant rural residences, picturesque acclivities, and low wooded ranges. Here and there were seen broad fields of grain and rich pastures, with domestic cattle grazing, and a few score of choice sheep,—the whole forming an aspect of rural thrift and peaceful abundance. If, as was the case in our instance, the tide is too low to admit of the steamers going up to the town, one can land at the Port and proceed to Dunedin by rail,—an opportunity which was gladly availed of, as we had "enjoyed" quite enough of sea-travel for some weeks at least.
The cities of both Australia and New Zealand have a habit of locating themselves among and upon a collection of hills, up the sides of which the houses creep in a very picturesque manner. Dunedin is no exception to this rule, rising rather abruptly from the plateaux where are the wharves and business centre of the town, to the summit of the foot-hills about which it lies. The town is more undulating in its conformation than Hobart, so lately described. A portion of the level plain near the shore, upon which broad streets and fine substantial blocks of buildings now stand, consists of made land, redeemed at great expense and trouble from the shallow water front. This whole section is as level as a dining-table. Heavy shipping business cannot well be conducted on a hillside; therefore the construction of this plateau was a necessity, as the town grew in size and extended its commercial relations. A couple ofmountains close at hand, each of which is considerably over two thousand feet in height, dominate the city.
The Scottish character of the early settlers of Dunedin, as well as that of the present population, is emphasized by the names of its twenty odd miles of well-lighted and well-paved streets, of which nearly all the names are borrowed from the familiar thoroughfares of Edinburgh. The only monumental statue in the town is that of Scotland's beloved poet, Robert Burns, which is situated before the Town Hall, in a small enclosure. The first settlement here was as late as 1848, by a colony nearly every member of which came from Scotland, from which source the city has continued to draw many of its citizens. The Scottish brogue salutes the ear everywhere; the Scottish physiognomy is always prominent to the eye; indeed, there are several prevailing indications which cause one half to believe himself in Aberdeen, Glasgow, or Dundee. This is by no means unpleasant. There is a solid, reliable appearance to everything; people are rosy-cheeked, hearty, and good to look at; there is a spirit of genuineness impregnating the very atmosphere, quite wanting in many places named in these pages.
The wand of the enchanter touched the place in 1861, from which date it took a fresh start upon the road of prosperity. It was caused by gold being discovered in large quantities near at hand, and from that date Dunedin has grown in population andwealth with almost unprecedented rapidity. Large substantial stone edifices have sprung up on all the main thoroughfares devoted to business purposes,—banks, public offices, churches, store-houses, and schools,—giving a substantial aspect quite unmistakable. Numerous large buildings of white freestone were in course of erection while we were in the city, the material being brought from a neighboring quarry. This stone very much resembles that which we found in such general use in Tasmania; it is very easily worked, but rapidly hardens upon exposure to the atmosphere.
The market gardening for the supply of vegetables to the citizens of Dunedin was found to be carried on in the immediate vicinity by the Chinese, just as it is in and about the cities of Australia. No one attempts to compete with them in this line of occupation. There was found to be here about the same relative number of Asiatics as elsewhere among these South Sea colonies, and a small section of the town is devoted to their headquarters.
There are numerous tramways in this capital, the cable principle being adopted in most of them. Dunedin, indeed, was the first town in Australasia to adopt this improved motor; and although horsepower is still employed upon some of the thoroughfares, the former mode has the preference both in point of cleanliness and economy,—besides which, horses could not draw heavily-laden cars up some of the steep streets of Dunedin. The sensation whenriding on one of these cable roads up or down a steep grade in the city, was much the same as when ascending or descending the Rigi in Switzerland, by means of the same unseen motor. The car is promptly stopped anywhere to land or take in a passenger, by the simple movement of a lever, and is as easily started again. There is no painful struggle of horse-flesh to start forward again after each stop. The powerful stationary engine situated a mile away, by means of the chains beneath the road-bed, quietly winds the car up the declivity, however heavily it may be laden, without the least slacking of power, irregularity of motion, or any visible exertion of force. It seemed to us that no better motor could possibly be devised, especially when rising grounds are to be surmounted. The principle is well demonstrated in some of the steepest avenues in San Francisco, where cable tramways have long been successfully operated.
Dunedin has two capacious theatres; also a public library containing about thirty thousand volumes, attached to which is a cheerful reading-room supplied with all the best magazines and journals of the times, including several of the most popular of our American issues.
Not to contain a Botanical Garden within its limits would be for the place to take a retrograde step among its sister colonial cities; and so Dunedin has a very creditable one, with many exotic trees and plants, which have readily adapted themselves to the climate. Among these there were observed somebeautiful larches, junipers, cypresses, Chinese gingko-trees, Irish yews, Indian cedars, American birches, and many magnificent tree-ferns. Mingled with these were flower-beds of heath, laurestinus, daphne, and yellow gorse, all in gorgeous bloom, though it was mid-winter. The daphnes had both blossom and red berries upon their stems at the same time. The palm-like cabbage-tree is indigenous, and imparts an aspect of Equatorial Africa to the whole. To us there is a pleasing revelation in these trees and plants, however simple they may be in themselves. There is a refinement, a delicacy of taste, a love of the beautiful in Nature evinced in all such gathering of the products of widespread countries and different hemispheres, and placing them in juxtaposition. Wonderful are the lovely contrasts and striking natural peculiarities presented to the eye in so comparatively a small compass. Time was when one must travel the wide world over to see these arboreal representatives of varied climes; now they may be enjoyed in an afternoon stroll through the flower-decked paths of some local botanical garden.
Real appreciation looks deeper than the surface; there are stories and legends always ready to be whispered into the ear of the inquiring traveller. These singularly formed hills about Dunedin are not mere barren rocks; they have their suggestiveness, speaking of volcanic eruptions, of wild prehistoric upheavals dating back for many thousands of years. Scientists tell us these islands are of the earliestearth formations. The ground upon which this city stands, like that of Auckland farther north, is composed of the fiery outflow of volcanic matter.
It goes without saying that Dunedin has all the usual educational and philanthropic institutions which a community of fifty thousand people demand in our day. Especially is it well supplied with educational advantages, which seem to be conscientiously improved by the rising generation. The sum expended upon the public schools by the Government is very large; the exact amount is not now remembered, but we recollect being impressed with the fact that it was remarkable for a community of no greater numbers. Throughout New Zealand there are over eight hundred registered public schools of the various grades. The public buildings, notably the University, High School, Provincial Council Hall, and the Presbyterian Church,—this last of a very white stone, nearly as white as marble,—are all imposing and elegant structures.
These cities have not escaped the nuisance of the "Salvation Army," whose principal arguments consist of instrumental noise and torchlight parades. Here in Dunedin, as in Sydney and Melbourne, Auckland and elsewhere in the colonies, they constitute a chronic bore. They are composed of about one third women, and two thirds men and boys; the women beat crazy tambourines, wear poke bonnets, and sing aloud in cracked voices, while the men form themselves into instrumental bands, and produce the mosthideous discord. These designing, or deluded, creatures tramp through the streets, in rain or shine, howling and uttering meaningless shouts until they are hoarse. The authorities do not interfere with such demonstrations, though they are clearly a public nuisance; but the mob deride and jeer them. Doubtless the persistent and remarkable exhibitions indulged in by these noisy religionists attract the vulgar imagination, and make followers if not converts. The public house at which we were stopping—the Grand Hotel—faces upon Prince's Street, which is the principal thoroughfare of the city, and in which is a square, ornamented by a monument erected to the memory of Captain William Cargill, the leading pioneer of this region. About the base of this well-lighted monument, it being night, a band of Salvationists were alternately playing upon brass instruments and singing hymns while we were endeavoring to write. The impression was thus strongly forced upon us that this open-air piety, this noisy and gratuitous religious serenading is more disagreeable than efficacious for good.
Having spoken of the Grand Hotel of Dunedin, let us add that it is one of the best houses of public entertainment we have found in all Australasia. It is a large, elegantly-appointed freestone building, under admirable management,—a little in advance perhaps of the present requirements of the city, but the population is rapidly increasing, to which end a first-class hotel largely contributes by attractingstrangers and making their visit agreeable in all that conduces to their domestic comfort.
Within about seventy-five miles of Dunedin are some of the most productive gold-fields in the country. Gabriel's Gulch, so called, has proved to be a mint of the precious metal so rich that all the tailings of the diggings which have been once worked at a handsome profit, are just being submitted to a second and more scientific process in order to obtain the gold which is known still to remain in them. The amount of these tailings in gross weight is doubtless hundreds of thousands of tons; what percentage of gold to the ton will be realized, remains to be seen. An interested party informed us that it was confidently expected that more profit would be obtained by this second treatment than had been realized by the first. Some average samples sent to England for scientific treatment yielded at the rate of two ounces and one half of gold to the ton of tailings. If even two ounces can be realized, these diggings of Gabriel's Gulch will prove a Bonanza indeed.
New Zealand in proportion is nearly as rich in gold deposits as is Australia, and the precious metal is found under very nearly the same conditions; that is, in quartz reefs and in alluvial deposits. Much gold has been found here in what are termed pockets, under bowlders and large stones that lie on the sandy beach of the west coast. This gold is popularly believed to have been washed up out of the sea in heavy weather; but undoubtedly it was first washed downfrom the mountains by the rivers, and deposited along the shore. Official returns show that New Zealand has produced over fifty million pounds sterling in gold, or two hundred and fifty million dollars, since its first discovery there. Besides Europeans there are several thousand Chinese engaged in mining for gold; and here as in Australia these Asiatics work upon such claims and such tailings as have been abandoned by others.
Fern-trees abound in and about Dunedin, often growing to a height of thirty feet, with noble coronals of leaves,—far more effective and graceful than the fan-palm which is seen in such abundance at Singapore, Penang, and in Equatorial regions. The fuchsias grow to mammoth proportions and to a giant height here. We have never seen this favorite so large elsewhere, with one exception,—in the Summer Gardens of St. Petersburg, where an exotic plant of this beautiful flowering shrub had grown to the size of a tree, twenty feet high. About the suburban residences of this colonial capital laburnums, roses, laurels, and lilies abound, blooming all the year round. Innumerable exotics have been brought hither, and as was remarked to us by a citizen who was exhibiting a fine display on his own grounds, "the plant that will not thrive in New Zealand in any month of the year with ordinary care, out of doors, is yet to be found." This gentleman showed us a tiny flower in bloom, so like the Swiss edelweiss that we asked whence it came, and learned that it is a native of the mountainregions of New Zealand. It was surely an edelweiss, the simple but beautiful betrothal flower of the European Alps. It has a different name here, which we cannot recall. As to trees, the elm, beech, willow, fir, ash, and oak have so long been introduced from England, have been so multiplied, and have grown to such proportions, that they seem native here. Botanists tell us that there are not quite fifty different species of trees in England; but we are assured by equally good authority that there are a hundred and fifty different species found in New Zealand,—an assertion we could easily believe after having been in the country a few weeks, and enjoyed the beauty of its abundant forests.
When Captain Cook first came hither, he fully understood the cannibal habits of the native race, and desired to take some practical steps toward discouraging and effacing such inhuman practices. Upon his second visit, therefore, he introduced swine and some other domestic animals, including goats, in the vain hope that they would ultimately supply sufficient animal food for the savages and divert them from such wholesale roasting and eating of one another. The goats and some other animals were soon slaughtered and eaten, but the swine to a certain extent answered the purpose which Captain Cook had in view. That is to say, they ran wild, multiplied remarkably, and were hunted and eaten by the natives; but cannibalism was by no means abolished or even appreciably checked. Wild hogs are still quiteabundant throughout the Northern Island, springing from the original animals introduced years ago.
With equally good intent, though not for a similar purpose, in later years rabbits were introduced into the country, but have in the mean time so multiplied as to become a terrible pest, consuming every green thing which comes in their way. "Like locusts they devour everything that grows out of the ground," said a stock farmer to us, "and would if left to themselves soon eat the sheep out of the fields." The flesh is recognized as good and suitable to eat, but it is so abundant that it is held in small repute, the skins only as a rule being preserved, and the carcasses left on the ground where they are killed, to be consumed by hawks and other carrion-eating birds. When brought to market, as they are daily, the retail price of rabbits is two pairs for sixpence, the seller retaining the skins and receiving the bounty paid by Government for their destruction. We were told that London and Paris are the largest consumers of the rabbit-skins, being freely used by the glove-makers for the manufacture of a certain grade of gloves. We also saw large cases of the skins securely packed and addressed to merchants in Vienna and Berlin. Thousands of bales of rabbit-skins are annually exported; indeed, so extensive is this trade that there is a large commercial room established in Dunedin called the Rabbit-Skin Exchange, where the article is bought and sold in enormous quantities. Thirty-five miles inland from thiscity, the author has seen by moonlight a whole sloping hillside which seemed to be moving, so completely was it covered by these little furry quadrupeds. They are poisoned, shot, trapped, and killed with clubs, but still so rapidly do they breed that there is no visible diminution of their numbers.
From Dunedin to Christchurch by sea is about two hundred miles, or the trip may be made by sail via Oamaru and Timaree. The harbor of Littleton, which stands in the same relation to Christchurch as Port Chalmers does to Dunedin, is a thoroughly sheltered deep bay, surrounded by a range of hills on three sides,—hills of cliff-like character rising abruptly out of the sea. Beyond those are higher elevations, their tops covered with snow, which the sun tinged with silvery hues as we sailed up the channel on a bright July morning. The surroundings are delightfully picturesque, the entrance to the harbor being as narrow as the harbor of Havana. It is formed by two breakwaters extending from opposite sides toward each other, each of which is over a thousand feet in length. Two huge dredging-machines were seen busily at work deepening the channel, so that vessels drawing not over twenty-two feet of water can lie at the wharves and discharge cargo. The spirit of commercial enterprise was very manifest here.
It was as late as the year 1850 that the first settlement was made at Christchurch, when a considerable company of immigrants, since called the "CanterburyPilgrims," came from Liverpool intending to form a community devoted to the Church of England. This design however was only partially carried out, though Christchurch is the chief seat of the Church of England in New Zealand, and has a magnificent cathedral testifying to the design of the original founders. It is said that the first people who arrived freely expressed their disappointment when they climbed the hills of Littleton and looked off upon the Canterbury Plains, with scarce a tree or shrub upon them, and not even a hillock to break the dull monotony of the brown tussock and low clumps of wild flax. A little over thirty years have since passed, and how different is the view to-day! Those lonely, dreary plains are now covered with thrifty farms, divided by broad fields of grain and well-fenced orchards, dotted here and there with pleasant homesteads surrounded by ornamental trees and blooming gardens, while as the centre and motive of it all there lies in the foreground, close at hand, Christchurch, the cheerful and populous City of the Plains. The lonely aspect of thirty years ago has given place to one instinct with busy life and modern civilization.
Littleton with its four thousand inhabitants is a most active and intensely busy seaport. We were not prepared to find so much shipping lying at its wharves. The long piers which are built out from the shore are lined with foreign and coasting steamers, and are also laid with iron rails connecting with the railroad which runs into the interior. Thusfreight is brought in the cars alongside of the shipping, and it requires only a hoisting apparatus to fill rapidly with freight the hold of the largest vessel. The export of New Zealand produce from Littleton in 1886 reached the aggregate of nearly two million pounds sterling, and the revenue collected during the same year was two hundred thousand pounds sterling. The harbor is overlooked by a castellated signal-tower, situated upon a lofty cliff; and the town itself is terraced over the hillsides after the usual style of the colonies. Nothing could be more striking to the eye upon entering the harbor from the sea than these cliff residences.
Littleton is connected with Christchurch by a railroad, the tunnel for which is cut directly through the surrounding range of hills, which are almost worthy of the name of mountains. The tunnel is considerably over a mile in length. When this means of surmounting the great impediment presented by the hills was first suggested, it met with serious opposition, as being far too expensive an enterprise for so young a colony to undertake. So it was for a while given up; but as the colony grew in numbers, and produce for shipment poured into Christchurch, the necessity of the railroad was more and more fully realized. Without it, all exports by the way of the port of Littleton must be hauled by animal power over the hills at great expense. Finally the road was authorized; and once being determined upon, it was quickly built, at a cost of over one million dollars.
Having penetrated the range of hills by means of this grand improvement, one emerges into a broad level country, and passes through an agricultural district which is under a high state of cultivation, beautified here and there by pleasant rural residences, gardens, and wooded reaches. The land is divided into convenient lots and separated by tall hedges of gorse, blooming in all its gaudy yellow splendor, and impregnating the atmosphere with a sweetness which belied the season, seeming rather to belong to the balmy days of early spring. Eight miles of rail brings us to the outlying portions of Christchurch.
This metropolis of the Canterbury Plains is located upon ground as level as a chessboard, its broad streets intersecting one another with almost painful regularity and precision, but lined with fine substantial stone buildings, and rendered attractive by many shops displaying a great variety of goods. These avenues are full of busy life; horse-railroads, freight-wagons, coaches, and cabs are constantly passing before the eyes. The day of our arrival chanced to be that of the monthly races, and all the world of Christchurch and its environs had turned out to enjoy a holiday. Some of the shops were closed at noon, that all might participate in this gala occasion. Four-horse teams, with long ranges of extra seats rigged for the purpose, started from the public square laden with male passengers, the vehicles bearing great placards reading, "To the Races for one shilling." One might have imagined oneself in NewYork or London, so rushing was the tide of life through Cashel Street and Cathedral Square.
The Public Garden of Christchurch is situated in a bend of the river Avon, on the western side of the city, about five minutes' walk from the business centre of the town. It occupies some eight or ten acres of land laid out in tasteful style. That portion which adjoins the river is lined with a beautiful border of weeping willows. A system is adopted in arranging the plants whereby all of a hardy nature are placed by themselves, the tropical vegetation being arranged together in the same manner; the plants indigenous to Japan, China, India, Australia, and Great Britain form each a group by themselves. This is called the geographical order, and has some advantages; but in adhering to such an arbitrary rule of adjustment, picturesqueness of effect must often be sacrificed. This whole collection of plants is of considerable beauty and scientific interest, though the garden is yet in its infancy, being less than twenty years old; but it is yearly undergoing much improvement.
A city built upon a perfect level is very rarely seen either in Australia or New Zealand, though there are exceptions, as in the case of Adelaide. Such a site is by no means so pleasant to the eye, albeit there are many practical advantages gained thereby. One feels shut up as it were in these long level reaches; the abrupt hills of Sydney, Dunedin, or San Francisco are preferable, even if often inconvenient.Nevertheless Christchurch is a pleasing, prosperous, and rapidly growing city, with much architectural beauty in its thoroughfares. As the commercial outlet of a broad-spread, fertile, and easily accessible district, it must continue to prosper commercially. Saturday is an especially attractive day here, when the country people—both men and women—from considerable distances come to town to dispose of their produce in the open market. The variety and excellence of meats, vegetables, fruits, and flowers accumulated here on such occasions is worthy of any large capital city. There is a conglomerate of humanity drawn together on this busy day of the week, which turns the streets and squares into a sort of out-door fair. We observed none of that abandon and careless dissipation which characterizes Melbourne on Saturdays; and yet Christchurch does not lack for an ample class who make pleasure-seeking a regular occupation.
At the Museum in this city a most interesting and perfect skeleton of that great prehistoric bird the Moa was seen,—a bird which was indigenous in New Zealand, and which is believed to have been extinct for about two thousand years, probably disappearing before any human beings came to these islands. The Maori Indians can be traced back but six or seven hundred years, and only very imperfectly during that period. They are believed to have come from the islands lying in the more northerly Pacific, presumably from the Sandwich or Hawaiian group. Even the traditions of these natives fail to give us any accountof this gigantic bird while living; but its bones are found in various sections of the country, principally in caves, and from these we must "gather and surmise." What is left of the Moa to-day is quite sufficient to form the greatest ornithological wonder in the world. The head of this reconstructed skeleton in the Museum of Christchurch stands sixteen feet from the ground, and its various proportions are all of a character to harmonize with its remarkable height. This skeleton shows the marvellous bird to have been, when standing upright, six feet taller than the average full-grown camelopard. It belonged to the Titans who dwelt upon the earth perhaps twenty or thirty thousand years ago, in the period of the Mastodon and the Dodo. What Niagara is to ordinary waterfalls, the Moa was to all the bird-tribe. It was a long time before incredulous scientists could be induced to admit these interesting facts, but the tangible evidence now existing in the Museum of this New Zealand city is indisputable. This Museum owes its great excellence and admirable scientific arrangement to Dr. Von Haast, the famous geologist and early explorer of New Zealand, and forms a worthy monument to his great fame in the world of science.