OUR HOMELAND.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXV, Issue 19986, 30 June 1928, Page 4 (Supplement)

OUR HOMELAND.

WONDERS OF GEYSERLAND. OHINEMUTU AND THE FAIRY SPRING. The bluo waters of Lake Rotorua lapped gently on the shores of tho picturesque little village of Ohinemutu, the old native township that was in existence centuries beforo tho pakeha came to Geyersland. Pixie and Pat, under tho careful direction of their guide, stepped along the edge of the tracks that led through tho village, and indeed caution was just as necessary here as iu Whakarewarewa, for beside tho path boiling springs and steam holes held tho threat of terrible disaster for any who might walk carelessly or stray from the paths. Pixie and Pat gazed curiously at the little native houses, whose iron roofs and glass windows were rather a disappointment. They had hoped for the old-time whares, with plaited nikau fronds for roofs and hard-trodden earth for a floor, but little sign was there of primitive native dress or custom in these nativo huts at modem Ohinemutu, or in tho little dark-skinned children who played about the doorsteps in coloured pinafores just like the pakeha children.

Over one of the boiling springs an ancient Maori woman was bending; a short, dark pipe was between her tattooed lips, she wore a man's old coat, and her coarse, lank hair was tied up in a scarlet handkerchief. Sho placed a pot in tho mouth of the steam-hole, covered it over with a bit of sacking, and then ambled back to her hut, her bare, brown feet treading the hot ground without a quiver—a type of the old-time Maori wahine that is fast disappearing. On the little point jutting out with raupo-fringed shores into the blue lake stood two small churches, and here Pixie and Pat found many beautiful examples of Maori carving, reed work, and weaving adorning the walls and rafters. A few minutes' walk from Ohinemutu brought the voyagers to Kairau Reserve, a weird and most interesting spot, where steaming lakes, boiling springs and mud volcanoes hissed and "plopped" continuously amid the tall manuka and eucalyptus trees.

"And now for the Fairy Spring," announced the guide as the children made their way back to the road once more. "A real Fairy Spring ?" asked Pixie eagerly. "As near to it as anything you are likely to find," smiled the guide. "Fairy fishes, you know." "Can we see the fish 1" asked Pat sceptically. "You can't see anything but fish," was the reply. And, to their unbounded amazement, the twins found this was no more than the truth. They came upon the spring at the end of a picturesque little track; such a spring as they never could have imagined to be real. For it was not merely a few fish they saw swimming abqufc there The spring, clear as crystal, bubbling up in a lovely little ferny dell, was so densely filled with fish that they could hardly swim! The soft brown dappled sides of the fish, with beautiful rainbow streakings of rosy pink, darting or gliding about mid the golden-green shadows, made a marvellous picture, and the children found no difficulty in believing their guide when he told them this was one of the most remarkable springs in the world.

"If only I could catch one!" breathed Pat, throwing a handful of crumbs to the fish, who gathered in a shining, quivering mass. "Have a-try," invited the guide. And noxt moment the children had wriggled down to the edge of the spring. They plunged bare arms into the cold water, even touched some of the smooth, slippery sides, but the trout were too wary to be caught "Won't it bo a wonderful yarn to tell the fellows when I get back to school!" exulted Pat as they rejoined their guide.

"It will, indeed," said the latter. "The Fairy Spring is one of the best fish stories in the world!"