hemselves. They are formed of what is called "Papa." This is a
blue, calcareous clay often found with limestone, which it somewhat
resembles. The Maori word "papa" is applied to any broad, smooth,
flattish surface, as a door, or to a slab of rock. The smooth,
slab-like, papa cliffs are often curiously marked--tongued and
grooved, as with a gouge, channelled and fluted. Sometimes horizontal
lines seem to divide them into strata. Again, the lines may be winding
and spiral, so that on looking at certain cliffs it might be thought
possible that the Maoris had got from them some of their curious
tattoo patterns. Though pale and delicate, the tints of the rock are
not their least beauty. Grey, yellow, brown, fawn, terra-cotta, even
pale orange are to be noted. No photograph can give the charm of
the drapery that clothes these cliffs. Photographs give no light or
colour, and New Zealand scenery without light and colour is Hamlet
with Hamlet left out. How could a photograph even hint at the dark,
glossy green of the glistening karaka leaves, the feathery, waving
foliage of the lace bark, or the white and purple bloom of the
koromiko? How could black-and-white suggest the play of shade and
shine when, between flying clouds, the glint of sunlight falls upon
the sword-bayonet blades of the flax, and the golden, tossing plumes
of the toe-toe, the New Zealand cousin of the Pampas grass? Add to
this, that more often than the passenger can count as he goes along
the river, either some little rill comes dripping over the cliff,
scattering the sparkling drops on moss and foliage, or the cliffs are
cleft and, as from a rent in the earth, some tributary stream gushes
out of a dark, leafy tunnel of branches. Sometimes, too, the cliffs
are not cleft, but the stream rushes from their summit, a white
waterfall veiling the mossy rocks. Then there are the birds. In
mid-air is to be seen the little fan-tail, aptly named, zig-zagging
to and fro. The dark blue tui, called parson bird, from certain
throat-feathers like white bands, will sing with a note that
out-rivals any blackbird. The kuku, or wild pigeon, will show his
purple, copper-coloured, white and green plumage as he sails slowly
by, with that easy, confiding flight that makes him the cheap victim
of the tyro sportsman. The grey duck, less easy to approach, rises
noisily before boat or canoe comes within gunshot. The olive and
brown, hoarse-voiced ka-ka, a large, wild parrot, and green,
c