by treaty with
the English Crown. Their decrease in numbers is as rapid in the King's
Country as it is where they are brought into more close connection with
the whites. As a people they have manifestly fulfilled the purpose for
which Providence placed them upon these islands of the South Sea; and
now, like the Moa, they must pass off the same and give way to another
race of beings. So it is with the Red man of America, and so was it with
the now totally extinct natives of Tasmania. No philanthropic effort can
stop the fulfilment of the inevitable. It is _Kismet_.

The town of Napier is made up in the business portion of one-story
houses, though in the main street there are found some establishments
rising to the dignity of two stories. A skeleton frame of wood, covered
on roof and sides with corrugated iron only, forms the material of many
of the stores and dwelling-houses. There is a long esplanade just back
of the town, within three minutes' walk of the centre, which has a most
superb sea view. It borders upon a shelving beach two miles long, and
though not suitable for bathing purposes on account of having a
dangerous undertow, it is very charming as a promenade. Iron seats are
arranged here and there upon the crown of the roadway, where one can sit
at leisure and enjoy the hoarse music of the waves, at the same time
looking off upon an immense area of wave-tossed waters, the scene
occasionally being varied by the sight of a passing steamship leaving
her long trail of smoke upon the distant horizon. It was a cool and
somewhat boisterous winter's day when we were there, and yet the seats
upon the beach were occupied by some romantic couples who seemed rather
inclined to force the season by imitating turtle-doves, except that the
latter are not supposed to mate until the genial spring-time.

One day was quite sufficient time to pass in such a place as Napier. We
had come hither by steamer, and were glad to get on board ship once more
as night came on, which found us directly steaming away northward. Next
morning soon after sunrise we cast anchor in an open roadstead off the
town of Gisborne, where we took on board a couple of hundred of sheep
transported to our ship from the shore by means of a lighter, and which
were to be landed at Auckland. It was a cold, dreary, foggy Sabbath
morning; the ship rolled heavily, and the appearance of the little
steam-tug, which was lifted at one moment above our bulwarks and the
nex