hours from this city into the "bush" reveals a
wealth of wooded richness almost indescribable. The trees, mostly of
the pine family, yet totally different from the trees to which we give
that name, were gracefully draped with luxuriant creepers, mingled with
which were glowing red blossoms. Tall fern-trees and flowering aloes
shared our admiration with variegated orchids, blending color and form
in lovely combinations. In the low grounds the deep-green leaves of the
wild flax stood forth with their tall, honey-laden flowers nodding in
the breeze and tempting the bees to their embrace. The glowing afternoon
sunlight was mottled with busy-winged insect life. The lowly ferns
spread in most inimitable patterns a verdant carpet beneath our feet,
such as no cunning of the loom could equal. It is well worth a
pilgrimage from far-away lands to make the acquaintance, solitary and
alone, of the primeval New Zealand forests, where there are no reptiles
to dread and no wild animals to encounter. Only Nature, old but
unchanged,--Nature, still and grand,--is here to be seen, presenting
features which teach us in eloquent language of our own littleness and
her immeasurable grandeur.

The beauty of the New Zealand forest will not soon be forgotten.
Reclining upon the verdure-spread earth, and watching the far-reaching
shadows, one is lulled into a dreamy mood by the mysterious whispers of
the foliage, the influence of the soft resinous atmosphere, and the low
drone of insects. The leaves seem to tremble and vibrate like the
strings of an Eolian harp. Is it because the brain is over-stimulated
by acute sensitiveness that tears--absurd tears--dim the eyes while one
is surrounded by this delicious solitude? All Nature seems to be in
harmony with one's feelings in this paradise of paroquets and
love-birds, this Eden of the Southern Seas, this climate of eternal
spring. We have somewhere read of the paucity of song-birds in the
regions of Australasia, but let us hasten to correct such an impression.
The notes that are trilled over one's head in these umbrageous solitudes
constitute a bird-opera worthy of the great southlands overhung by the
Southern Cross.

CHAPTER XIV.

Capital of New Zealand.--About the Native Race.--A City of
Shops.--Local Earthquakes.--Large Glaciers.--McNab's
Gardens.--A Public Nuisance.--Napier.--Maori
Peculiarities.--Native Language.--Mythology.
--Christianizing Savages.--Gisb