a way,
a plain duty is recognised. I shall remember, so long as I remember
anything, the three avalanches I saw and heard thundering down the side
of Mount Pembroke as I sat on a boat in the glassy waters of Milford
Sound. In many and many an hour I shall see Wet-Jacket Arm and Dusky
Sound again with their vast precipices, luxuriant forests, and rejoicing
cataracts. I shall dream, thank heaven, of the awe and worship I felt as
the steamer crept round the edge of Rat's Point, and little by little,
one by one, the white wonders of the Earnslaw range slid into view,
until at last the whole marvellous, unspeakable panorama stood revealed,
a spectacle the world may perhaps rival elsewhere, but cannot surpass.
So long as I remember anything I shall remember a summer day on the
banks of the Poseiden. I sat on a fallen log on the track which leads to
Lake Ada; and the robins, in their beautiful fearless unfamiliarity with
man, perched on my feet, and one feathered inquirer ventured even to my
knee. The sunlight steeped the thick foliage overhead until the leaves
shone transparent with colours of topaz and of emerald. The moss on
the trees was silver-grey and vivid green, and there were fingolds of
vermilion and cadmium, and scaly growths of pure cobalt blue; the most
amazing and prodigious riot of colour the mind can conceive. The river
ran below with many a caverned undertone.

In Sir John Everett Millais' latest days, I met him at a cricket
match at Lord's, and made some attempt to describe to him the truly
indescribable riot and glory of the colour of the New Zealand forests.
He turned to me with an odd mixture of petulance and humour and asked
me: "Why the devil didn't you tell me all this when I could paint?"
I believe he was the only man alive who could have translated those
splendours truly.

It is the desire of all good New Zealanders that the beauties of their
country should be advertised. I offer this humble contribution to that
end with a willing heart. I shall be thankful to my latest day to
have seen those beauties which I have been able only to hint at. The
traveller who misses New Zealand leaves unseen the country which, take
it all in all, is probably the loveliest in the world. The climate
varies from stern to mild. That of Auckland is warm and sluggish; that
of Dunedin keen, inspiring. Situate midway between the two you find
perfection. Napier will be the sanatorium of that side of the world one
of these day