so that
the beautiful Pahi appears to lose itself in the forest.

The opposite shore of the Pahi ends in a high bluff that, from our point
of view, appears like an island in the expanse of gleaming water. Round
the base of the bluff are gathered the white houses of Te Pahi township;
and the masts of several small sailing-craft are seen off the beach.
Behind and above is a bold sweep of dark woods, forming a background to
the baby town.

The township bluff hides from us all view of the Paparoa, which lies
just behind it. But we have a full prospect of the wide reach of the
Matakohe, which has quite a lake-like look. Just within it, on the
further shore, are some low mud-banks, partially covered with stunted
mangrove. Here great flocks of grey snipe continually assemble, together
with kingfishers, shags, wild duck, teal, and other waterfowl. The high
bank conceals all behind it; but in one or two places we catch a glimpse
of some settler's house, cresting the bold bluff, or half hiding in its
orchards.

And now we face to the east, with the setting sun behind us sending its
rays full upon the central interest of the view, and thus we gaze our
fill upon Te Puke Tapu. A small but deep bay forms a bend in the shore
of the river, guarded by steep heights on either hand. On the left a
long promontory runs out into the Pahi, as though to meet the township
bluff upon its further shore. On the right a towering scaur shows the
abrupt termination of the range behind it. The tide in the Arapaoa flows
swiftly by, but within the bay the water lies smooth as glass.

Between these two points may be a distance of about a mile straight
across. The curving line of the shore, sweeping round from one to the
other, forms a complete crescent. No rocks or mangroves, no mud-banks or
oyster-beds spoil the effect of a narrow belt of white and glittering
shingle, which lines the beach of the little bay. And right at the edge
of this border-line begins the mingled green of fern and forest.

The land slopes upward gradually from the beach, rising by regular steps
into a grand semicircle of heights. The general shape is that of an
amphitheatre. And here so rich is the soil, so sheltered the situation,
that all the wild vegetation of the country seems growing with magnified
luxuriance.

The colouring is brighter and more brilliant than it often is in the
bush; and there is a more extensive mingling of different trees and
shrubs, a more picturesq