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THE WANDERER.

BOUND ABOUT NEW ZEALAND.

By " The Vagabond."

TO HOKITTKA.

From Porter's Pass the road winds round
the mountain Bide with a gradual descent, as
this is the highest point of our day's journey.
Shortly we pass Lake Lyndon, a mountain

tarn 2,700ft "above the sea-level. One end of
this is frozen over. "It will bear," the driver
says. Many long years Bince I have heard
this expression — since London schoolboys
were anxiously watching the weather over
night, and hoping that the Serpentine
and Regent's-park waters would be fit for
skating on the morrow. Hunting men at the
same time were moodily cursing it The
scenery up to now has been rather mono
tonous, and my companion on the box-seat
remarks that he " doesn't think very much of
this." But now we turn down the mountain
side and through a gully, and his opinions
change. A fringe of birth trees hides the
ravine and the waters which gurgle below.
On the other side the birch wood stretches
far away, like Dunton Forest in Otago. The
road is good, and we gallop along at full
speed. A coal mine is pointed out to us in
the hill-side; it is a small hole, or tunnel,
with a few bags at the mouth—a fuel supply
for the neighbouring station. All over New
Zealand coal—that is, lignite—is found, and
it is of the greatest service to squatters. We
change teams at a lonely stable, where Maori
hens are running about underneath the
horses' legs, and do not scare as much at
our approach as ordinary barndoor fowls
would. Further on we stop and have a cup
of teaatanaccommodation-house, the cleanest
and best I have seen in New Zealand. Astation
homestead is near here, built in the centre of
a birch grove: the surroundings are far more
picturesque than one generally sees. High
up on the mountains beyond this are huge
glaciers. We cross foaming torrents which
run into Lake Pearson, which, with the
rugged, bare hills on the other side, resem
bles Nanttle Lake in North Wales. Night
falls, but the full moon makes everything
clear as day. We cross the Cass river, ana
make our last change there.

In all coaching countries the last team of
horses is generally the best. There is no ex
ception now, and we dash down the hillside
gallantly. Then the broad bend of the
Waimakariri is before us. Two miles across
to the other hillside is a plain of shingle
interspersed with streams. The "cold or
snowy river" occupies all this at flood time.
At others it wanders where it will, puis ea,
pate la, sometimes in one deep channel, other
time in a dozen. Like all New Zealand rivers,

although an enormous body of water, it is of

no use lor purposes of navigation. But it is
very destructive from the wandering course
ana perpetual change of bed. Once the

Waimakariri flooded the suburbs of Christ
church. The road here is merely a shelf cut
out of the solid rock, up and down from 30ft
to 300ft above the liver bed. We have no

lamps, and the moon shining in all its glory
casting long shadows over hill and water
makes this one of the weirdest sights pos
sible. 'If we were to meet anything here
there would be' trouble, but teamsters and
drovers with mobs of cattle know coach days,
and by a tacit understanding "the block
system" ts carried on. We have 10 miles of
this beautiful Bceneiy, and then diverge into
the birch buBh and null up at the hotel at
Bealey, 48milesfromSpringfield. The coach
from Hokitika which connects here is in
before us, and Mr. Arthur Davis, the driver,

8resides at the " high tea" in the absence of

re landlord. , It is a good and sumptuous

meal, but my appetite is spoiled by the
vngariespf the drunken old man aforesaid,
whose manners and customs are like unto
thoBe of the inhabitants of the South Sea

Id^ds^as desoibed bjra Hiberrd^^feun
moonlljditia a most i^utifuj pioce. I shall

never 8ee|t % the sun, as we start at 4 a.m.
Inhhe morning I haa intended to stop here
some dayB spa '^lorbthc beauties of the
district, as set fbrto mBuftonB photographs,
butthne pregseb andthe season 1b poo far
Sdvanced. Thfctotonship consists of the
hotel andhtote, a post'and bolice camp. The
duties of the mfelligent P.C. are like' unto
those of HoratiM?" He T^Bj^ the track from
easttowest Any cue levanting from one
coast to the other must pass through the
Bealey. .There is no o%er way, no track
*" i the bnth or over the mountains.

ith0Ophitonte,andasthewire»bud
_latmwals cannot esc*i>a.

Igettobed' betimes, f appear to have
passed my existence lately in citing at un
earthly hours hi the morning to catch
hooches but this 4 o'tiwk stert is

the culmination- The people must sit up all
night to call us. It is cola and dismal when
the warning knock comes to the knock. I
make preparations for what I anticipate will
be a rough time. Warm underclothing
knitted in Dunedin, the only place in the
colonies in which I can get these made,
thick woollen socks, and " Cookham" boots,
which I advise all tourists to wear. Suit of

heavy Geelong tweed (Gray Brothers'), ulster
of Belfast frieze, waterproof over that, silk
handkerchief tied toona my head, and felt
cap pulled over my ears. The work crowned
by the hideous muffler bought in Christ
cnurch at the instigation of the veteran
warrior whose kindly services I shall ever re
member ; it is a small shawl, and when
wrapped around my mouth and chin I feel

that 1 resemble a picture out of Tfve Pick
toick Papers, that 1 am an Englishman of
50 years ago. My companions on the box
seat are equally well muffled up. The five
lights are biasing, the five horses stamping
with impatience. "All aboard," says the
cheery voice of Davis. We start at a brisk
pace. Through the birch grove down on to
the bed of the WaimakarirL High stakes are
planted at short intervals to show the fords
in the various streams. Over the shingles,
where there is no defined road, our driver
takes us without the slightest hesitation.
Night seems to him all the same as day.
Suddenly the snow begins to fall, and it
freezes as it falls. Such cold I have, perhaps,
felt before, but it seems like a dream. Snow,
snow, snow, it falls all around us, it
fills evety corner in our rugs and cloth

ing. We are snowed up behind and:
before. We can barely see the leader. The
flakes come in heavy drifts striking in our
faces, stinging, and blinding. Up the hill
sides, along the bank of the Bealey River by
a perilous track, the danger of which we
cannot Bee, high mountains above us, the
gorge beneath us. For myself, I am one mass
of icy snow, a frozen witness. Everything is
white and chilly looking. Yet all the while
Arthur Davis sings cheerily and encourages
his horses; he seems perfectly happy and
doesn't swear, A real "gilt-edged driver"
this. Of all the whips by whom I have
sat in the colonies he is the best He '' takes
the cake." The* other day Davis drove 150
mileB in 23 hours without any rest, and then
came in fresh and smiling. It is indeed true
of him, " a merry heart goes all the day; a

sad heart dies in a mile.

I think that this is a good case for a
modern Mark Tapley, and I begin to w ish
that I had imitated Anthony Trollope, who
never made this journey, but wrote his
charming account from the descriptions given
him by the warriors at Christchurch. Is it
for this that I have come many miles to see
the Otira Gorge? I dose, and fancy myself a
glacier, and awake with my intellects frozen.
The cold has increased, and there is six
inches of snow on the ground. We are now
at the top of the saddle of " Arthur's Pass,"
3,200ft. high. Here is the division of the

eastern ana western watersheds, and of Can

torhnrv onrl WAaflen/?

somewhere there behind the clouds. There
is light, and the snow ceases a little. " We
go down L500ft. in a very 6hort time," says
Davis. The brakes are hard down, and then
full speed ahead. Below us is one great sea
of fog and mist, into which we appear plung
ing. Down, and down at full gallop. I\e
turn round sharp corners, which, with the
certainty of what would happen if anything
broke, makes the nervous suiver. There is a
"Devil's Elbow " in the beautiful drive over
the hills from Adelaide. There are a dozen
Devil's Elbows here. Down, and down. I
have seen nothing like it but the Guyger
Grade. All the while the cheery voice of
Arthur Davis—gift of his Cambrian ancestors
—rings out cheerily. It is contagious. I toss
the stump of my cigar over the cliff—the
Iwttom a thousand feet below. No matter.
JaJis les roU, I burst out, when a great
snowflake sweeps down my throat, and
nearly chokes me. " Hurrah! Come up, my
beauties," yells Davis, as he turns the coach
round a corner which seeuis something like
the apex of the pons aeinorum. We are over
the saddle of Arthur's Pass, and in
the eastern end of the Otira Gorge.
Now the dawn breaks fully, and I
am fully rewarded for all my trouble,
and the petty trials endured. Now I
experience the culmination of all the beauties
I have seen in New Zealand—of all the
beauties I have seen under the Southern
Cross. Never to be effaced from my memory;
a sight worth a journey over land and sea—
worth a voyage from the old world—worth
liardships ana discomforts—worth a king's
ransom—and yet which is within ten days
of Melbourne or Sydney, and can be enjoyed
for a trifling cost New Zealand is a country
of surprises hi the beautiful; the southern
and northern lake districts have each their
admirers; but none can say they know this

country thoroughly till they have been this

drive to the West Coast Finis coronal

opus.

This is the narrowest of passes; the Otira
is a rapid stream, dashing over a rocky bed,
whilst the mountains arise on each side
thousands of feet above us, clothed every
where with foliage which crowns the beauty
of form and outline, giving light and colour
to what otherwise would be like the Kawarau
Gorge—grand, but terrible. The character of
thejfora is changed, now that we are on the
western dope; no longer the birch, with its
sombre green, but red and white pines, giant
fuchsia trees, the rata and veronica. In
summer time, tierupon tier of scarlet hands
—a blaze of brilliant colour—relieved by a
variety of shades of green from a thousand
species of ferns and creepers. Nature has
run riot here 1 The road is but a shelf alone
the ridge, mostly cut out of the solid rock
which hangs overhead. In places it bos to]
be built out the timbers being bolted into
the rocks. We overhang the torrent below
whilst our three leaders turn the corners in
front chafing their harness against the
bbulaers as they pass. In summer, how
lovely 1 But now? Years ago, at some pan
tomime In London or Pans, I saw. "The
Home of the Snow Queen"—a scene-painter's
dream, an idyll of canvas, lime-light, and
mechanism, which from boyish days remained
fixed on my memory. It is here reproduced,
in nature in the Otira Gorge. The driven!
snow has covered everything with virgin
purity. Every bough of the pine, each leaf
on the rata, is traced in white. Every creeper,
trailing from the trees is a delicate festoon of
snow. The great fronds of the giant ferns
bend beneath iheweight of; the ftakes which
cover, than; they ere a thousand times more
lovely .than in their spring verdancy. It te a
supremely beautiful' right, one., which' the
driver saya he has , seldom seen.' . It is fairy
land itself 1 Cascades tumble down flic rocks
into Otira, whose giving crystals, are only
equalled by the great Icicles which overhang
the road; sheets of ice cover theniUsidea.
Every turn brings a (Efferent beauty ofiorm
as we gallop aToiig for four unles., (Every
thing is pure and chaste as the heaven from
which we tett children the snow falls.

A fearsome journey this. We an shown

side of*the toad- E^tSo a^ten?1 ht^era

h&ppened to the ooiteh, The horses are
trained like those of, a rircu^ and the
driver is the pertectioaof humaafotethorizht.

Jotwiao^ai? I arrive at the end of the

5-X, ^ accommodation-house

The first thing is to clear the
00 jPu m 8now- I am in a regular hnwir

^J^otohedugout The driver's furcap
and beard are all frozen into one. He would
serve as a good portrait of old Father Christ
maf-. rhcre are five bonnie young girls, rosy
£?«, -1f hy' P,ace- The cold agrees

fhern. It has also given ns a good
appetite. On again, across the Otira, and
over many mountain streams, which have
suspension footbridges at the fords. In
spring-time, when the thaws take place, these
torrente are often impassable fo- weeks,
in rough the fairy snow forest for miles
until we strike the banks of the Teremakau.
when suddenly the scene changes, everything
i *7*? «istead of white. We are below the
level of the snowfall, which is replaced by a
soft rain. A long stretch of beautiful road
called the Avenue is before us. There is a
wonderful difference between the vegetation
on.the east and west coasts of New Zealand,
it is the same as noticed on the west coast of
North America, a luxuriance of nature due to
the heavy rainfall. Here there are great
trees, giant ferns, which look like palms,
lianas hanging from bough to bough; deep,
mossy carpets underneath, a thousand rills of
water gurgling on each hand—it is tropical
m the profusion of vegetable life. The forest
meets overhead, and tue road seems strangely
familiar. It is the route from Fonwhan to
La Foa. I wonder if Captain Rathonis,
A.D.C., remembers the day when we rode
thither, and our horses'hoofs rattled amongst
the skulls of the dead convicts. The tele
graph wire completes the resemblance to
New Caledonia; did not the rebel Canaques
cut it down there and use it in making the
stockades, which Messrs. E. and J. O'Dona
nue and myself discovered on our retreat
from Oua Tom ? Again, the road changes to
a vista, which one may have often seen in
the home woods of an English park, a drive
lor pheasants and foxes. I have Stoneleigh
in my mind's eye when I see this. Anon, it
is a scene in British Columbia. I pass
through a dozen climates to-day, besides
Fairyland in the Gorge. Everywhere it is
beautiful, and if it is so in the winter, what
is it in its summer glory ? I repeat it is the
culmination of all the beauties I have seen,
and the traveller who fails to make the
journey to the West Coast misses the grandest
sight of its kind in the world.

On we go by the side of the Teremakau,
whose channel is broad and vague, but flood
limits defined by high wooded banks. We
pass a few scattered homesteads, a few
patches of cultivation with fences of the
living fern tree; a few head of cattle are seen
running in the bush; a saw-mill or two show
we are approaching civilisation. We are
Hearing the mining districts of Westland,
the province which separated itself from
Canterbury in 18G7, and whose history since
the discovery of gold in 1864 has shown
Homeric strivings with the forces of nature
unsurpassed in the world. It must be re
membered that a Large portion of the Southern
Alps are yet unexplored. "It will never be
known how many men have perished in these
wild mountains and rivers, without a fellow
creature near, or any wituess of their fate,
but the lofty rocks or towering pine trees.
Thousands came to this district year by year
in pursuit of wealth, forsaking the comfort
of their homes, to lead a life of wild excite
ment, ending in madness or death, or to
perish alone in desolate places," But the
early gold-seekers formed a province, in the
second decade they married and settled, as
witness the scores of children who run out
and cheer us at Dillman's Town, the first
mining settlement we pass through. Here I
could imagine myself once more in parts of
California or Nevada. Great fiumes run
across the road. Races, tail-races, sluice
boxes, sludge channels—everything as one
sees it on the Pacific coast. The hill sides
have been washed away by water brought to
bear through great hoses. The great heaps
of stones are covered with a light red fungus,
which gives forth a faint perfume. Every
thing is totally different to an Australian
mining centre. Dillman's Town itself is not
very extensive, and the architecture is of the
primal digger order, every house having an
iron chimney built outside. But the glimpses
of reaches of the Teremakau river with its
pine-clad banks are very beautiful, and the
generally well-fed and well-clad air of the
children shows that Dillman's is a prosperous

community.

On again to Kuinara, where we leave a
mail. This is Quite an important place, full
of hanks and pubs.; and the Heathen Chinee
flourishes in the land. It is very evident that
the bottom has not dropped out of things on
the West Coast, the same as it has in many
places in Otago. Now for 10 miles we pass
through a mining district Through Golds
borough (iimned by some Victorian admirer),
through Stafford and Woimea. Water-races
and flumes are on each hand. Pubs., banks,
aud stores in the township all apparently
doing a good trade. Thaiassa/ I behold
the sea once more ; it dashes moaning on
the surf - beaten shores which in the old
days made the West Coast a name of
terror to navigators. We cross the Arahura
by a broad bridge. A small Maori settlement
is here. The natives all live in wooden
frame-bouses, and subsist on the rents of the
reserved land set apart for them. They are
the remains -of the tribes which lived here,
who put on considerable airs because the
precious greenstone is found in their district.
Pride had its fall, for the Maoris from the
north came down aud spoiled them of fhoir
treasure, and generally cleaned them out by
killing and eating. Now there are only SO

natives in all Westland, and they are com-.
paratively wealthy. The women wear bine,
dresses and smoke the strongest tobacco. A
few more miles along a good road and we•
bowl into Hokitika. a city of broad stress'
ana one good hotel, from the verandah of.
which I watch the rolling surf and the twin

peaks of Mount Cook standing out clear "H -
distinct against the sky 125 miles distant

. We are in another climate. The madness
of the air is charming after the cold of Otago
and the ranges. A lovely place this Hoki
tika. The long stretch of aurf-bouhd shore,
crested billows everywhere save the entrance
to the harbour in the Hokitika Biver, the

town backed by the primeval forest not like .
the Australian; busk, but varying in colour ,
and shade j for beyond is the range of Ihe
Alps towering to the skies, culraiiuubiugin
the monarch of New Zealand, Mount Cook.

How lovely, howgrand rids looks in the ?
mear atmosphere!. And how surprising is
this same clearness after the foes and niistl

have = experienced around Wakitipu and:
Wanaka, thave an idea that, after all, this'
WeatGoaat is the pUce to.oome forecourt,;
Mr. Muller. ' the chief surveyor, wfcf
courtesy itself to me, points ;o&,<m3Sfoj

how Mount Cook can be rcack *
Journey from the sea, sad be :
routes to, toe "Brans do

which contain eayetns oj

painter has never dreamed

adventurous travellers have
a fool 1 was to- m
the southern lakes!

the point of departure of the
gubumo iu fthWrt. 1 toft *

pointed that I did not know of these things
before. There has never as .vet been an
attempt made to write a book upon either
the magnificent scenery or the commercial
or mineral prospects of this golden coast.
This, however, will not long remain to be the
case, as I hear Mr. 11. C. Reid, the late repre
sentative of this district, has in course of
preparation an illustrated publication on the
subjects, which will probably be in the hands
of the colonial public during the current
j'ear. It will contain, I understand, a series
of sketches of West Coast scenery, together
with descriptions of rides and rambles along
the coast line, and an excursion to the grand
and wonderful deep sea sounds in the
southern part oi the West Coast of the!
Middle Island. I
I am amongst a grand people now—open- J
hearted, hospitable, spontaneous. I knew ;
no soul here, yet in a day I Lave a score of
friends. lam welcomed by the mayor and
at the old Government-house. I am invited
to visit the gaol, the lunatic asylum, and
the hospital, ot which the people are
proud, and which are not too full.
Of course I visit the office of the
West f'onsf 77mm, and here _ I am
surprised to find that the electric light
has found its way to this distant region. A
dynamo machine is here worked by a gas en
gine, and the whole place is lighted hv it
Hokitika contains 2,600 inhabitants, out of
5,369 in the county of Wcstland. I do not
suppose it will ever be a very large place, as
there is nothing to export except gold. The
inhabitants have great hopes that some day,
when the railway from Christchurch is made,
there will be an accession of trade ana
population. I don't think their wishes will
be realised. The mil way will cost an enor
mous sum, and, as is the case on the other
coast, goods traffic will always go by sea.
The railway will spoil the romance of the
overland journey, and although it may bring
e few travellers here, it will also take away
feminine Hokitika to buy its bonnets in the
capital of Canterbury, and local tradespeople
will suffer.
Hokitika and Westland depended in the
past on gold; their present and future are
bound up in it:—"During the last twelve
months a great impetus has been given to the
mining industry in Westland by the introduc
tion of foreign capital to develope the alluvial
mines. Several mining companies, with
capitals of from £30.000 to £150,000, have
recently been formed, and deep sinking and
extensive sluicing operations are being pro
secuted on a very large scale at Koss and
Humphrey's Gully. It is not generally
known that nearly one-half of all the gold
produced in the colony lias been obtained on
the West Coast. The total quantity of gold
produced in New Zealand from the 1st
April, 1857, to the 31st March, 1883, was
10,144.926oz., of which 4,4S6,774oz. was the
produce of the coast, except a very small
proportion obtained in the Nelson district,
from which port, however, a considerable
part of the R est Coast goia was shipped in
former years. The value of the gold produced
on the West Coast since 1857 was £17,500,000.
The recent and rapid development of the
gold-mining industry by the operations of the
numerous mining companies above referred
to justifies the belief that the yield in future
years will even greatly exceed the large yields
of the past years, and the population of the
coast must soon be greatly augmented."
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