THREE WEEKS' CARAVANING IN OTAGO.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XIX, Issue VII, 7 August 1897, Page 197

THREE WEEKS' CARAVANING IN OTAGO.

(By

P.M.)

OF all the ways of spending a holiday I think caravaning in the country the most enjoyable. Staying at one place for any length of time, unless there be special attractions, is apt to become monotonous. Travelling by train and coach is often expensive, and even cycling, thought it were heresy to say so perhaps, has its drawbacks. A stiff head wind turns pleasure into toil; a storm may overtake the unlucky cyclist, and not only cause him serious personal discomfort, but render the roads nnrideable, or nearly so. Then the iron steed is so prone to accident, which occurs as likely as not when the rider is far away from any habitation. Another disadvantage is that very little luggage may be taken. To carry more than, say, a change of clothing and a camera is a task on a long journey. I may say, however, that two bicycles formed part of our equipment on the trip of which I am about to speak, and as an adjunct to the caravan we found them very useful and pleasurable. In caravaning, however, there are combined most of the pleasures attendant on these other methods of holiday-spending, and to my mind the drawbacks are fewer. The caravanist gets variety in scenery and people ; he has freedom to go when and whither; timetables bother him not one bit. Then he has also the charm of camping out, of which colonials are so fond, for his caravan renders him independent of hotels. The expense, too, is inconsiderable. Our trip cost the members of it less than 30s each, though the journey lasted three weeks, and extended over 500 miles. The idea was suggested to a chum and myself by an account of a caravaning trip in England undertaken by a party who visited many historical towns and other places of interest. Both of us were imbued with a desire to put the idea to the test, and we completed a party with a relation of mine who brought his horse, and thus saved us tbe worry and trouble of hiring one, and an amateur photographer. All of us hailed from Dunedin. We mapped out a journey, which comprehended a visit to the chief of what are termed the goldfield towns of Otago, and two of the Alpine lakes— Wakatipu and Wanaka. Subsequently we found we had not the time to do what we had anticipated, and the journey was somewhat modified.

It was a matter of some difficulty to get our holidays simultaneously, but finally we came to an arrangement that two of the company should start previous to myself and the other member. I was to follow up the caravan on a bicycle, and number four, the amateur photographer, would take train to Queenstown at Lake Wakatipu and join us there. Accordingly, we hired one of those common fourwheeled expresses that everyone is familiar with, on it being a plain waterproof cover, and most important, a good strong brake. On tbe strength of the latter the safety of our necks depended very often during the journey. Into tbe trap we packed blankets, clothes, guns, provisions, pots and pans, fiddle, accordeon, etc., and a tent and poles, for our caravan was 'not nearly commodious enough to allow of four youths sleeping in it.

The two pioneers left Dunedin one bright sunny afternoon in February—a happy augury for their holiday. The following day they drove across the Tokomairiro Plain, and arrived at Ettrick, a small township about 30 miles beyond Lawrence. lon my bicycle overtook them here. They had started on a Thursday afternoon. It was not until the Saturday that I left Dunedin How slowly the intervening time passed may be imagined. Reaching Lawrence the same evening, I stayed there all night, and four hours’ pedalling on the heavy, dusty roads next morning brought the caravan into sight. It was a merry trio that sat around the fire exchanging experiences while the ‘ billy ’ boiled. The second bicycle was now hauled out of the trap, and two of us rode our machines, while the third drove. Thus we made our horse’s task as light as possible. In the afternoon we came to Hoxburgh, situated at the foot of Mount Benger. Running close by is the Molyneux, on whose banks many of the residents are engaged in searching for gold Several dredges have been placed on the water, whose mission it is to bring up the yellow specks to the light of day.

From Coal Creek comes the well-known Teviot fruit. We saw some splendid orchards on our way through the district. They lay at the foot of the mountains, well sheltered, and presumably were irrigated, for several streams of water that crossed the road flowed from their direction. In attempting to ride through a shallower stream than usual one of the ‘ bikists ’ fell in, and some young ladies who witnessed his doing so laughed most cruelly at his mishap.

Not far from the township is a huge excavation, where coal that outcropped on the surface was apparently being obtained by the unusual method of quarrying it. That*night we pitched our tent close to where a bullock team was encamped, and the two drivers of it came along 'to see the strangers,’ as they put it. * What are the roads like further on ?’ was the question we greeted them with. * Oh, they are far worse than this,' was the reply, dismaying us somewhat, for there were fully six inches of dust on tbe road beside us, and our hoise, sturdy little fellow though he was, could not get along as fast as we deemed desirable. With no better prospect before us we resolved to buy another horse as soon as an opportunity presented itself, and then ‘ wouldn’t we bowl along?’ The next day was strikingly hot. Evidence to tbe dryness of the climate was amply afforded by the number of ’dead marines,’ otherwise empty beer bottles, that lay at the roadside, and at such regular intervals that after passing a certain number, we reckoned we had gone a mile. Jogging along up and down hilly and uninteresting country that produced only stones, matagouri and Scotch thistles, we met occasionally great waggons drawn by eight or more horses, which lumbered past in a perpetual cloud of dust. We reached Balo Hill Flat at midday. The name of the place is not inappropriate. Immense rocks thrust their heads out of the ground in all directions.

The summer in central Otago has this year been a phenomenally dry one, and tbe country we had travelled through the last two days had presented a most barren and parched appearance. The climax was perhaps reached when we came to Conroy’s Gully. Standing on the road leading down this place, we looked in vain for any sign of vegetation. The hills as they stretched away before us were as bare earth ; the little creek in the gully was even murky in colour. We were reminded of the place * Childe Rolande ’ came to on his way to the • Dark Tower ’ — * . . penury, inertness, and grimace. In some strange sort were the land's portion.' Farther down in the gully, however, splendid fruit is grown. The orchards as they came to view seemed like oases in the desert. The dry, warm climate is eminently suitable for this purpose, but the soil requires irrigating. At the foot of the hill we halted for lunch. While thus engaged a person on horseback rode up and stopped to speak to us. ‘Good-day, my boys Hawking?*

• No! ’ chorused we indignantly. *We are out for a holiday.*

* Um ! It's a strange way of spending a holiday, isn’t it ? It was seeing all that paraphernalia in the waggon that made me ask the question. My word, you, have quite a little house in there. I’m the constable here, you know.’

• Oh, are you !’ and feeling rather disgusted at the statns of society he had placed ns in, and somewhat riled a’ bis inquisitiveness, we in turn proceeded to question our questioner, and to ask him his business, doing so with so little reservation that it was a wonder he did not arrest us for failing to pay the respect due to the ‘ Force,’ or something else. It so happened that the district has become rather notorious owing to the extreme rowdyism and mad pranks of some of the rising generation, and of the generation that had * riz ’ too. Here was our opportunity, and we seized tbe occasion to chaff him rather unmercifully regarding the character the district he had charge of bore. * Since yon came here we have been told the place has actually not been safe to live in. Now, tell the truth. Is that so ?’ It was real fun. He took us up quite earnestly, and spent a lot of time and breath to try to prove conclusively that matters were precisely the other way about. All sorts of absurd questions we plied him with: * Policemen are supposed to know everything aren’t they ? You could not tell us, could you, where’s the best place in this district to go poaching ?’ and so on. By-and-by we divulged the fact that we were Lord Glasgow’s sons travelling in disguise, and patronizingly told him we should recommend Mr Seddon to promote him to an inspectorship on our return. Then he grinned. Perhaps it was because we were ‘ squatting ’ on the road washing up the dishes as we spoke. Along with him we visited a Chinaman’s garden close by, and bought some splendid plums and luscious peaches.

•It’s not fair, you know, to make us poor little fellows pay and this big chap get peaches for nothing,’ appealingly said one of us. ‘lt ought to be the other way about.’ But the owner did not savee.

Setting off again, we reached Earnscleugh Flat, where we had the pleasure, of a decent road for two or three miles, and along this we quickly scampered, but our pace slackened considerably as we got to within half a mile or so of Clyde. Heavy patches of sand, as fine as that of the sea-side, were encountered, and little Charley had his work cut out to get the trap across. Crossing tbe bridge over the Molyneux, just previous to entering the town, we met and spoke to a stranger on horseback, who curiously enough turned out to be the very person on whom we had been directed to call by a Dunedin acquaintance. Passing through the town, we came to a halt in a grassy hollow overhung by high cliffs, and set to work to remove some of the dust from our persons preparatory to accompanying our newly-made acquaintance on an hour or two's stroll round the township. Clyde is situated on a terrace overlooking the river, and at the mouth of the Dunstan Gorge. It is a quiet enough little place now, for its ancient glory has in a great measure departed. In the ‘good old days’ large rushes took place in its vicinity, and the town was a scene of business and excitement. One o’d resident related many interesting reminiscences to us, and as showing the decadence of the place, mentioned the fact that he remembered when even in this small place there were fourteen hotels ; now there are less than half that number. The banks of the river have been searched and searched, but there are still in the district large areas of gold-bearing ground, which would pay handsomely if the lack of water were not the drawback. Speculators are turning their attention to the river bottom now. It has been marked off (if one may use the expression) for miles each way, and dredges are likely to be at work at no great interval. At Alexandra, some miles further down the river are a number, which we were told were doing extremely well ; that place, indeed, is said to be at present far the most prosperous of the goldfields towns. What an interesting ride we had up the Dunstan Gorge next day ! It was from the sandy beaches of the Molyneux river flowing through the gorge that Hartley and Reilly obtained in 1862, and brought to Dunedin. 87 lbs weight of gold, and received reward of £2,000 from the Provincial Council for discovering a new gold field. The great Dunstan rush set in, and from all parts of the colony, and also from Sydney and Melbourne, people hastened to the spot to try their luck, and the hardships some of them must have endured in travelling to the scene over such wild and rugged country, and the privations suffered in camping out in the depth of winter in a place totally barren in respect of trees for fuel can be imagined. The river was very low that year, and in a great many places sandy beaches were exposed, and from these gold was obtained in considerable quantities. Before the end of ’62 some 70,000 ounces were sent to Dunedin by escort, and a large quantity was taken down privately.

All this we had read regarding the Dunstan Gorge. And now ! Deserted and tumbleddown huts, upturned stones and half-filled watercourses told their own tale. Only occasionally did we see Europeans working. One enterprising party had conveyed their water from bank to bank in pipes suspended in mid-air. The majority of workers, however, were Celestials, and they were not numerous. The latter were quartered in the most curious of places, and in the most primitive of huts. Here was one underneath an overhanging rock that served as the back wall and as roof of his hut, which was scarcely large enough for even a small person to stand upright in. There were also Celestials whose habitations were simply cavities dug out of the hillside ; a sack maybe hanging down at the entrance serving as door. The gorge extends some thirteen miles. Cromwell is situated at the other end. Just below this township the Kawarau River joins the Molyneaux. The former river brings down the overflower of Wakatipu, the latter of Wanaka and Hawea Lakes. Rushing down, tumbling over rocks, eddying and foaming, the two rivers seemingly pause to greet one another, then joining forces, together they set off again on their headlong and turbulent career. The rivers’ banks and hillsides presented a dreary scene. Torn and dishevelled, a giant band appeared to have been at work tearing and rending, then departing, leaving all desolate and ruined. Cromwell is a fairly large township, and is the centre of the most important mining district in Otago, though of course there is nothing like the population aud stir and excitement that characterised the place in the early days. It is not an attractive place—quite the opposite, in fact. A great flood of the rivers took place about a quarter of a century ago and deposits of sand were left on the banks. This sand the wind has shifted and spread over a large area, and the town now appears as if built on low sandhills. ‘ And when it blows, don’t we get it ?’ said one resident to us. At one end of the town is a Chinese camp, the houses all being built of galvanised iron. It’s a problem whether they are built from the pattern of country gaols, or vice versa— the gaols copied from their design. There is a strange singularity, anyway.

Leaving Cromwell after a short stay, we spanked along the flat, hard piece of country beyond, and entered the Kawarau Gorge. For nearly fifteen miles or so we drove through this gorge, a region wilder and more rugged than any we had yet seen The hills were bare, jagged, and often well-nigh perpendicular. The road anon was overhung by masses of rock, and sometimes standing on the edge we saw the river sheer below. Abundant signs there were of the presence of miners in the past, but what was the most tangible evidence that in this lonely place man had been, were advertisements of pills and other patent medicines of six-syllabled names painted on the rocks. Such wild scenery as the gorge presents had a fascination for us, but the effect was lost and disgust took the place of ecstasy when our eyes rested upon a common ‘ ad.,’ requesting us to use this or that vile nostrum —a certain cure for all ailments, from a bald head to a wooden leg. A few miles down the gorge is ‘The natural bridge.’ Here the space between the rocks on either side of the river is so narrow that one might almost leap from bank to bank.

How delighted are some country people to see strangers from town ! A young miner accompanied us for several miles for no other reason than to have a conversation with us. Although close on thirty years of age he had never seen the ocean or even a railway train.

It was dark by the time we emerged from the gorge. We camped near to an old and partially destroyed clay house. Whether some dark and evil deed had been committed there we know not, but Charley was very uncomfortable, and gazed wistfully at us while we put up a barrier of scrub where the door had been, and barely had we gone twenty yards when he leaped it and came trembling and snorting after us. In lieu of pitching the tent, we pulled out and piled underneath the trap all our luggage, and made our beds on its floor. The experiment was certainly not a huge success. For one thing, it was too tight a fit, and every time we took a breath threatened to force out the sides of the express. The horse wo had tied to the van, and he stamped and tugged at his rope until we all got the nightmare and thought we were bolting over into some fearful abyss. Toward morning it commenced to blow, and the draught at our heads became so strong that at length, in a comatose condition, we got up and placed our pillows where our heads had been, he whom we had dubbed ‘cook,’ on account of his proclivities in that direction, objecting to the whole proceeding and murmuring, • Lemme lone.’ Passing the Nevis Bluff in the morning, where the road is cut out of a great cliff, it was quite a change after so much dusty travelling to reach Gibbston, a small farming district, and to see a patch of green grass once again. Jogging along in between the hills, eventually we climbed an eminence, and there at our feet lay Lake Hayes, a pretty little“sheet of water surrounded by low hills, and away in the distance was Lake Wakatipu,

whose azure waters, peeping out from between two lines of mountains, presented a somewhat striking contrast to the more sombre-coloured Lake Hayes. Frankton was soon reached. It is a little mining township on the banks of the Shotover River, and not far from it Wakatipu pours itself over the Shotover Falls into the Kawarau River. Crossing the Shotover, we drove along the lake side to within a mile or so of Queenstown and halted here, pending arrangements being made for the paddocking of our horse and the bonding of the trap, while we went on to the head of the lake, whither it was impossible to take the van. Accordingly, * Cook ’ and I furbished ourselves up and proceeded to the town. Rounding the bend of the hill we obtained our first view of Queenstown, the City of the Lakes, which lay below us at the foot of the mountain, peeping out from amongst the trees, and prettily situated on a little inlet of the lake. Thirty odd years ago the place was part of a sheep run. Now we saw a compact little town, with regular streets and substantial buildings. With its grand climate and magnificent scenery, Queenstown without doubt is destined to become a great tourist resort. The people we met were very kind and most obliging, and we had no difficulty at all in obtaining the requisite accommodation for our van and horse during our absence. We had intended leaving for Glenorchy the following day by the steamer. The view in the morning was simply lovely. Wakatipu’s blue waters sparkling in the glorious sunshine like sapphires lay below us and extended away in three long arms, one to the right of us towards Glenorchy, another to our left in'the direction of Frankton, whilst to the south the Kingston arm stretched away from us in between two lines of mountains. Facing us were the Remarkable Mountains, enveloped in deep blue mist, which disappeared as the sun ascended the horizon, and we could see them—a range of precipitous and jagged rocks, all scarred and furrowed. Looking around we saw the Cecil peaks, the Lyre and other mountains thrusting their tall heads up to the sky. By the time, however, we had packed up, got into Queenstown and stowed our van away, the boat had gone. Several persons recommended us to make the journey on foot. ‘ It’s a very pretty walk, and the boat won’t run for two days,’ said they. On thiscourse we decided, and having been successful in buying another horse, we slung over his back two packs containing tent and provisions, and set off in the afternoon on a walking tour of Boodd miles. After a very charming walk of seven miles or so, we reached the honse of a good-natured young Irishman, and he kindly volunteered to boil our billy. It was here we made our first acquaintance with the sandflies, but the greeting we gave them was anything but cordial. After tea we accompanied our hospitable friend on a walk around his claim. He had in partnership with him a Chinaman. At the latter’s hut, or house rather, we saw an ingenious Chinese bellows, used at the forge where the picks and other tools were sharpened. It was a box arrangement, lined with skin to make it air tight, and a piston rod worked in and out, the air being ejected with both actions. Just below the hut was an aqueduct from one gully to another. It was constructed of shrub sticks, and though rough and rude, was a testimonial to the skill of the oft much-despised Chinaman. We were proffered a hut wherein to sleep that night, and as it was nearly dark when we returned, gladly accepted the offer and soon turned in, hoping for a good night’s rest to recoup our tired bodies. That hope was not realised. ‘ Vic,’ our dog, evidently had had something at supper that disagreed with him, for he whined and moaned in his sleep in a most distressing manner. Just as he was, however, becoming convalescent the horse hobbled up close to the hut, and the ‘ doomp doomp ’ of his feet and the clank of his hobble chains tended still further to keep us from the land of dreams, while the tension on our nerves was not reduced by the rustling of the rats as they scampered about in proximity to our heads. Even under these adverse circumstances, we were snatching little spells of sleep, but as the ‘ wee sma’ hours ’ began to come we felt our mattresses harder than was comfortable, and the one blanket covering us not sufficient to keep off the chilly morning air. Anxiously we sighed for daylight, and as it came it revealed to us the fact that the hut’s roof was decidedly a sham, and what we had not noticed before, a three-barred gate did duty for a door. Nor was it surprising either that our bones were stiff and sore, for on lifting the blanket beneath us, we found our mattresses to be two large flat iron sheets. Veritably it was a night to be remembered ! Notwithstanding our somewhat restless night we were soon in a state of exhilaration and delight as we tramped along under a sunny sky following the bridle track, iw-v*’ all its tortuous windings round the lake side, and alternately ascending and descending. An hour or two’s walk brought us to Bob’s Cove, the prettiest and most charming place imaginable. Here are picturesquely bush clad hills and soft swards whose edges are ceaselessly lapped by the waters of the lake. How delightful

it was, reclining under the shade of a tree and listening to the sweet music of tuis, modis, robins, and other lighthearted feathered songsters in the adjacent bush. After lingering for a long time we regretfully left Bob’s Cove, and wended our way slowly along, drinking in the varying beauties as they came to view. Now we were skirting the lake, a little farther on we were ascending the steep hillside and winding round some precipitous rock, anon passing through arbours of fuchsia, moke moke, and along 'natural avenues of manuka, or fern, then descending into some ravine, where a little stream welcomed ns in soft murmuring tones. Coming to the bend in the lake we traversed a stretch of ferny flat and reached the foot of White’s Point. Up this we toiled slowly, for the day was intensely hot. Driver was up to the top first by reason of his having the horse’s tail to hang to. But the panorama that spread before us amply compensated us for the exertion we had been put to. Below us was the lake, a sheet of placid water, on its bosom islands reposing calmly and gracefully. Looking away ahead we could see Mount Alfred, its dark, forest-clad slopes presenting a striking contrast to the white-tipped peaks of Earnslaw and Cosmos farther in the background—Earnslaw as a giant towering over giants, and in between whose two highest peaks a great glacier of dazzling whiteness lay, glistening and sparkling in the sunshine. A range of mountains, the Richardson, stretched away from us on our right, and turning to the left, rising above the opposite shore of the lake, the Tooth peaks, the Humbolts and other rugged mountains enhanced the view. It was a sight at once grand and beautiful, more lovely than any we had seen, and never to be forgotten by us. Arising reluctantly from our tussocky couch, we descended to the lake side again, and bye-and-bye come to a p'antation, and soon were at the Mount Crichton station homestead, qur arrival being heralded by the barking of dogs, young and old, to the number of a score or so. We had heard that the Mount Crichton Station people were most hospitable folk, and therefore had no hesitation in asking permission to camp ’ on the property. • Certainly and come awa’ ben to tea,’ was the reply Amateur, who had been deputed to call, got from the manager, a jolly and good-natured Scot. * Four of you ! Why if there are fourteen of you bring them a’ in.’ And as if to make sure of our coming, he himself came to bring us.

Soon we were seated around the large table, alternately eating and responding to inquiries as to what was going on in the outside world showered upon us by our

genial host, whom we found to be quite a humorist in his way. Tea over we had a look around the station. * Would you like to see my shower bath, boys ? Though we are a long way from town, we are not so uncivilized as you might think.’ From the praise he bestowed upon this shower bath we expected something out of the ordinary, and we were not disappointed. ‘ There it is,* said our friend, but we saw only a clay bank. * Wait till I turn it on.’ And up to the top he climbed and shifting a wooden barrier at the top, he diverted a water race, which came shooting over the bank. ‘You must know the showers are very heavy up here,’ said he, and we could see his grey eyes twinkling. The station people were all very kind, and made so much of us, in fact, that we felt rather important personages. There was an pld digger at the station, and he gave vent to his kindly feelings by offering to take us pig-hunting. So up the mountain we went next morning, and after an hoar’s trap ‘ Cook ’ stepped on one in a mound of fern, and nearly had his wits driven out in consequence. After an exciting chase he succeeded in shooting her, for the pig was a sow. We afterwards found her litter of five, with which we returned to the homestead, the poor little piggies yelling and screeching in tones most unearthly.

The hands were busy shearing, and we spent some time in the shed. Two of the party essayed each to shear a sheep. One soon got tired of mutilating his victim, but the other persevered and succeeded in cutting most of the wool off his sheep’s back, which, however, when released presented a somewhat extraordinary appearance, looking with the undulations on his back like a rare and fancy variety of animal. Leaving the station, we continued our journey again. The heat soon caused us to halt for a cooling dip. For some distance out the bottom of the lake can be distinctly seen, all covered with white stones; then eomes a dark brown line (formed by a mossy substance growing on the stones), beyond which the water appears intensely bine as it dips sheer down hundreds of fathoms. Rain commenced to fall just as we got within sight of Glenorchy, and by the time we got to the Alpine Club Hotel (we were not inclined to pitch our tent under such circumstances) we were well-nigh soaked. Fortunately, the men attached to the hotel had dry clothes to spare, and soon we were strutting about in our borrowed plumes, the Amateur looking particularly proud, albeit top heavy in a coat four sizes too big, and which threatened to topple him over whenever he walked. A huge wood fire was lit, at which our own clothes speedily

dried, we meantime finding in Jack Clark, the hotel guide, an interesting and pleasant person to converse with. Although quite a youth. he has had a lot of experience in mountain climbing. He and Fyfe were the first persons to scale Mount Cook. Next morning was fair, and we were able to take stock of our surroundings. Glenorchy is a small township consisting mainly of hotels and boarding-houses to accommodate the increasing number of tourists who visit the head of the lake each year. The township is situated on a flat at the foot of the Richardson Mountains. Right opposite is Kinloch on the verge of a forest of birch, and at the foot of the tallest of the Humboldts, Mount Boupland. Mountains stern and rugged were on every side, the white mists and icefields in their hollows scarcely discernible from each other. The neighbourhood of these two places abounds in the most magnificent scenery, but unfortunately we had only a few hours at our disposal. After breakfast we walked up the valley of the Rees, a river flowing into Wakatipu, with the intention of having a glimpse of Paradise Lake, taking our horse ‘ Sandy ’ with us to ford the river. ‘Prince’ was the name he enjoyed when we got him. Later on we discovered ‘ Starlight ’ to be another cognomen he bad had, but he did not possess the airs and demeanour of the former, nor any of the dashing qualities of the bushranger in Boldrewood’s novel, so we rechristened him ‘Sandy,’ which appeared more in harmony with his long bare legs and somewhat lumbering gait. On the way a genial little Irishman, who had been engaged as guide for the summer months to one of the hote.s, joined us. The season being now practically over, he was making preparations for prospecting in the winter and intending to proceed into the unexplored mountain wilds of the West Coast. His experiences and reminiscences of his guiding trips were very entertaining. We found the bed of the Rees River to be some 300 yards wide. The water was divided into several fast rushing streams, of comparatively little depth, however, being only up to the horse’s girths. Two trips sufficed to take us over, for ‘ Sandy ’ made nothing ado about three on his back at once. In another half-hour or so we were in sight of Diamond Lake. First seen it looked like a silver thread entertwined around the base of the mountains. Getting nearer we could see its placid waters calmly nestling at the foot of the hills and prettily skirted by bush, while away beyond were Cosmos’ glistening icefields, glacier succeeding glacier. Rain threatening, we deemed it prudent to turn back, and slowly we wended our way down the valley again, halting occasionally to take a last, lingering look through our glass at mountain, glacier, or waterfall. Now and then we varied the walking with a ride on the horse, but not often. Riding without a saddle unless you are a Red Indian is not an utimixed blessing. In her beautiful poem Mrs Norton has pictured the delights of the Arab as he dashes across the desert on his beloved steed. A slight variation of the last two lines expresses our feelings admirably—

‘Thus—thus we leap upon thy back to scour the distant plains. Alack I alack ! we soon dismount to get relief from pains.’ We duly reached Glenorchy, and the weather having turned fine again, we continued our journey back to Queenstown without delay. ( To be continued.)