Auckland Institute. Session of 1869. Proceedings.

Transactions and Proceedings of the Royal Society of New Zealand, Volume 2, 1869, Page 404

Auckland Institute. Session of 1869. Proceedings. Annual Meeting. February 15, 1869. Captain Hutton, F. G. S., in the chair. The Secretary, Mr. T. Kirk, read the report of the last year and the balance sheet. Abstract of report. The Auckland Institute was formed at a meeting held November 6th, 1867, and, in pursuance of a unanimous resolution passed at the first monthly meeting, was formally incorporated with the New Zealand Institute on June 10th, 1868. During the past year monthly meetings of the members were held in the Museum, at which fifteen papers were read, which are now in course of publication in the “Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute.” (See Vol. i., p. 135, et. seq.) Field excursions of the members have been made to the Tufa craters of Waitomokia, the North Head of the Manukau, and to the caves at the Three Kings, during which much interesting information was collected respecting the geology and natural history of the districts visited. Sixty-nine donations have been received by the Council for the Library and Museum of the Institute. The increasing interest evinced in the objects of the Institute impels the Council to point out that largely increased funds are necessary before they can be carried out to any extent, to express its earnest hope that the members will use their influence to induce new members to join, and as far as possible to give active assistance to the Institute in its endeavours to diffuse a knowledge of the resources of the colony. Fourteen scientific periodicals are in circulation amongst the members of the Institute. The treasurer in account with the auckland institute. DR. £ s. d. To subscriptions 68 5 0 " Balance from excursion fund 0 10 4 £68 15 4 Cr. £ s. d. By Periodicals 11 5 4 " Black board 7 0 0 " Curator 25 0 0 " Advertisements and printing 10 16 8 " Lamps 4 14 0 " Stationery, postage, &c. 3 2 9 " Balance 6 16 7 "£68 15 4 February 15, 1869.

Election of Office Bearers For 1869: President—T. B. Gillies; Council—Rev. J. Kinder, T. Kirk, Dr. Stratford, F. Whitaker, F. W. Hutton, F. G. S., Dr. Purchas, T. Peacock. Mr. Owen was requested to audit the accounts of last year. Second Meeting. June 7, 1869. T. B. Gillies, President, in the chair. A list of thirty-seven donations to the Library and Museum of the Institute, received between 15th February and 5th June, was read by the Secretary. The President delivered the following Address. It is a remarkable fact in the statistics of mortality, that the large proportion of deaths occur during infancy, childhood, and youth. Every year that the child survives, greatly increases its chance of attaining to maturity. Infancy is the season of the greatest risks. With a physical frame undeveloped, vital energies weak, and wholly dependent on external aid for nourishment and protection, the chances are many against the prolonged life of the infant. On its constitution, its internal vitality, it has mostly to depend, so as to survive the carelessness of nurses, the foolish fondness of mothers, and the dangerous attention of doctors. But even when infancy is over, the risks are only reduced, not surmounted. Years must pass ere the physical and mental powers are developed and consolidated—ere the man becomes a contributor to the progress of humanity. As with the individual, so with schemes and societies. Infancy to vast numbers of them is fatal—childhood scarcely less so. On this, the opening of the second year of the existence of this Society, I have to congratulate you on having successfully survived the infantile stage,—not from having a robust physical frame, for our numbers are but small compared to what they ought to be in so large a community, and the number of our active working members smaller still. Our comparative success has, I think, been owing much to the internal vitality, the intense interest evinced by many whom I see around me, and to the same cause I confidently look forward for a prolonged existence for our Society. Our constitution, too, the excellence of the objects for which we are associated, give me hopes for the future. As in all nature, atoms have a tendency to find their affinities and combine with them, so I believe that the very existence of this Society, having for its object the promotion of scientific knowledge, will draw towards it many an unknown and humble worshipper at the shrine of science, whereby the Society will be strengthened, and its usefulness increased. That such may be the case is, I am sure, your earnest desire, as it is mine. And here, gentlemen, permit me, not for your sakes, but for the sake of some to whom perchance these words of mine may reach, to endeavour to state clearly the position which we, as a Society, assume, and to remove, if possible, some erroneous impressions which have gone abroad and been propagated in regard to us. We assume to be a scientific society, but this description seems to be greatly misunderstood. We do not assume that each individual member of this Society should profess to be versed in science, should be a man of scientific acquirements. All that is required or desired of members of this Society is, that they should recognise the benefits which scientific knowledge confers on the world, and may confer on this community; that they should have a love for science and a desire to see it progress, and that they should be willing to contribute, however humbly they are able, to the advancement of scientific knowledge. This is all that I and many others of this Society can pretend to, and although I see before me some who may fairly aspire to the title of scientific men, yet these I know are the very men, who, with the true humility of science, undervalue their own attainments, who feel that what they do know has only taught them how little they know, and has whetted their appetite for an increase of knowledge. I fear, however, that the very terms science and scientific knowledge convey to many nothing beyond a vague idea of something very learned, something very abstruse, which it is hopeless for ordinary men to attempt to have anything to do with. It is true that science in its more exalted sense means a knowledge of the general laws which explain, and are deduced from, large bodies of isolated physical facts. But it must ever be borne in mind that the facts must be determined first ere the laws explanatory of or governing these facts can be deduced. The same man cannot (except in very rare cases) both ascertain for himself the facts, and generalise upon them, so as to elucidate the laws governing their existence. There must be in the field of science, as in all other branches of industry, workers as well as masters—collectors of facts as well as generalisers upon the facts ascertained—and the workers must come first, the facts first, the theories built upon them afterwards, otherwise

the theories are but of slight value. In other words (to follow the Duke of Argyle's formula in his definition of law) we must determine the “what” first, ere we can aspire to know the “how” or the “why.” We, in this Society, can scarcely, perhaps, profess to be more than mere fact-collectors—sometimes hazarding a theory or a speculation, grasping, as the human mind ever tends to do, at the “how” and the “why;” but endeavouring always to collect and verify facts of the physical world, which facts may perhaps prove of value in the hands of some other member of this Society, or of some other person of more extended scientific knowledge. And let no one depreciate the mere fact-collector. One well authenticated fact, though it cannot alone sustain, may overthrow a brilliant—it may be, even an accepted—theory. We ask, then, all to join us who are willing to observe and record facts coming under their observation, accurate observation being at the foundation of all scientific knowledge. And here, I may remark, that it seems to me too little attention is paid to the cultivation of the faculty of observation amongst our children. Were we to attend more to the cultivation of this faculty, we should find that what is an effort to us, would soon become a habit with them, and great results, would, I venture to say, flow from such a course, especially in a community like our own, where rapid change seems to be an essential element of existence—where the workman of to-day is the capitalist of to-morrow—where new faces are constantly usurping the place of the old around us—where a very few years consign to privacy or oblivion our public men, and supply their places, not by a succeeding generation, but by a new race. I say, in such a community, it especially becomes us to cultivate the habit of observation of facts as they pass before us, and to cultivate, moreover, the habit of recording these facts for the assistance and guidance of our successors, who may never have the opportunity of observing what we have observed. Need I ask you to look at how little has been done during the nearly thirty years' existence of our colony in the way of determining such patent facts as the geography, the botany, the zoology, the geology of our country—not that we need expect a few years—no, not even a few lifetimes—to exhaust the stores which even in these respects are open to our view. But had any number of our colonists during these thirty years devoted themselves to observing and registering facts which have come under their observation, had we each one in his own little circle done so, how great would now the mass of ascertained facts be available to the world, to our fellow-colonists, and to those whose habits and powers of mind could have reduced those facts into order, grouped them under their appropriate laws of how they came thus to exist, or even aspired to the higher flight of mind in pointing out why they have been so caused to exist, and how their existence might be turned to beneficial account. Youth, gentlemen, is especially the time for acquiring the habits of observation, as well as all other habits, and I desire earnestly to impress upon you, and upon all who have the training of the young, that, if ever scientific knowledge is to take a proper position in our midst, as it is doing in the rest of the world, it must be through training our youth to habits of correct, accurate, and minute observation. I call it a habit rather than a power of mind, and I think that any of you who have been in the company o a trained mind in any branch of science will readily admit the superiority—the vast superiority—of the trained over the untrained, in this apparently simple matter of observation. And let us, gentlemen, endeavour to disabuse our minds of the common idea that a fact to be worth recording must be something new, great, important, or peculiarly striking. The most important discoveries of science have had their origin in the observation of common, simple, overlooked facts. The waifs of ocean have told of worlds beyond, and of the winds and currents of the mighty deep; the boiling tea-kettle was the germ from which have resulted those mighty engines which have revolutionised industry and locomotion; and it was from the simple fall of an apple that Newton's master mind deduced the great law of gravitation. The apparent smallness of a fact is no criterion of its value. The want of a single nail in the construction of mighty ship—the absence of a single stone in a great building—may endanger the safety of the whole structure. He who records a previously unobserved or unregarded fact, however small, has contributed one stone, which, in the hands of a master builder, may yet become the very keystone of an arch in the great temple of knowledge, but which, we may be sure, will find its appropriate place in that mighty building. Let this thought, then, encourage some to contribute to our stores who might otherwise fear to do so. For, whilst there is nothing in nature so great, no laws so hidden that science dares not to grapple with and search after, still there is nothing so patent or so insignificant as to be unworthy of her attention. I would, therefore, earnestly urge you gentlemen, who have not yet taken an active part in our meetings by contributing the results of your observations or experience, to do so. Your mite may not be the least valuable of our stores. And, while directing your attention to the importance of cultivating habits of observation, even of the most trivial facts, and of the importance of recording them, I would also call your attention to the exceeding value of systematic observation—the observation of special classes of phenomena. In order to develope any

faculty to a high degree of perfection, it is necessary to apply it—not to everything that comes within its range, but in the first instance to a certain limited sphere. Trained to proficiency within that sphere it becomes capable of applying itself successfully to other and wider spheres. So with the faculty of observation. He who attempts to observe everything that comes within his range of vision, will, if he truly aspires to proficiency, soon be disheartened by his failure—his little progress. With less ambition, or more self-complacency, he may be a general observer, but he will be but a superficial one, an inaccurate one, a mere smatterer in that branch of knowledge. There cannot be in science an admirable Crichton—a man equally well versed in every branch of scientific knowledge. Nature is too large, man's life too small in its present state. The duration of man's life itself sets a limit to the comprehension of the little that is known in all the departments of science, even to the most gigantic intellect. We cannot conceive of a man combining in himself the knowledge of Herschel and Hooker, Lyell and Faraday, Humboldt and Bunsen. To great minds alone it is given to be proficient in one branch of science, and so to be able to seize and accept the results of other labourers in other branches, but without being able to follow them in all their processes. To ordinary minds, even when trained, it is only given to have sound knowledge, though neither extensive nor minute, in one branch, and a general knowledge of the results attained to in other branches. But common minds untrained can attain to but a superficial smattering of scientific knowledge, sufficient for conversation perhaps, but of little practical value, insufficient to enable them to be contributors to the great onward march of science. To become accurate observers and correct recorders, you must devote yourselves to some special class of phenomena. By so doing, you will soon find that the faculty thus concentrated has increased in power, and may be applied—nay, will involuntarily apply itself—to a wider sphere, instead of being weakened by a diffusion over too large a field at first. But I feel the thought cross the mind of some of my hearers, “Well, I should like to contribute my quota, however small, to the objects of this Society; but what can I do? Worried with business, the cares of my office, or my shop, or my family, leave me no time to devote to the active pursuits of science. I can only hope to read or hear the results which others accomplish.” No doubt to some extent this is true, especially in this community, where wealth, not wisdom, seems to be the grand desideratum. But, I answer that, if you will but look on the fair face of nature with a loving eye, she will soothe your worried brain, and unfold peeps of her treasures to you. Have you not observed in walking home from your office or warehouse, how some plants flourish in this locality, others in that? Have you noted that, as you looked at your barometer on a cloudy morning, it was falling, and yet a fine day resulted; whilst sometimes it was rising, but the rain came down? Did you observe that moth that came fluttering round your lamp? It was a rare one not formerly known in this locality. Your field of rye grass has failed,—have you noted the conditions of soil and season, and other matters; or have you not just put it down to bad seed? These few illustrations I give to point out that even those with least opportunity may nevertheless be observers and contributors to the stores of knowledge which we desire to accumulate. And you will, perhaps, pardon me if I detain you a little longer in pointing out somewhat in detail the various subjects to which, especially in this country, you may profitably direct your observations. Each may select that branch most congenial to his tastes and circumstances, and pursue that systematically, meanwhile seizing, as they pass, facts which in other branches happen to take his attention. In astronomy, the most ancient of sciences, not much may be accomplished without appliances, leisure, and training, such as, I fear, are not at the command of many amongst us. Still, in the kindred branch of meteorology much may be done in the way of observation and recording facts, and even in drawing deductions from these facts. The differences of temperature and of climate in places but little distant from each other, the causes of such differences, such as the proximity of the sea, the intervention of ranges of hills, the exposure to a particular aspect, the existence or nonexistence of forest or swamp in the neighbourhood, the effects of such differences as shown by the vegetation or peculiar phases of animal life,—these afford wide scope for the exercise of careful observation, as well as of wide generalization. Practically useful, too, they will be in guiding the settler in his choice of locality for settlement, as well as in guiding him to the seasons, and to the crops which will best repay his exertions. In this branch, also, the observation of the indications of the barometer, whether ordinary or aneroid, in various localities, with relation to the direction or intensity of the winds, the season of the year, and other circumstances, would be valuable as guides to the traveller and the farmer. In botany, though much has been accomplished by previous observers, still much remains to be done. Isolated localities alone have been thoroughly explored, and the discoveries during the past year by our worthy Secretary of so many new plants and new forms of known plants, during the rare opportunities he has had of systematic search,

should convince any of you with botanic predilections, that sufficient remains to be discovered to encourage you to devotion to that special line of investigation. Besides, the conditions that determine the distribution of plants in different localities presents a wide field for the exercise of thought, and none more practically important than that of the cause of grassed lands existing in some portions of our country, whilst fern lands predominate in others. In chemistry, as in astronomy, I fear little can be hoped for; although with sufficient time, training, and appliances, I believe there is a wide field here open for the chemist in developing the natural wealth in our midst, in the way of dyestuffs, medicinal herbs, and other vegetable products. In regard to the geology of our country, much, very much remains to be done, notwithstanding the valuable researches of Drs. Hector and Hochstetter, They have but dealt with general outlines, with the larger aggregated facts of geological formation, but in the details of every different locality, a vast work still remains to be done, a work which I feel sure will amply repay every care bestowed upon it. A series of specimens of the rocks found in every different locality, with a note of their positions in relation to other rocks, and to the contour of the surface, would indeed be a most valuable contribution to science and to our Museum, and would tend in no small degree to throw light on many obscure questions as to the past of our colony, as well as to guide us to the future capabilities of the various portions of it. In the observation, too, of facts in mining, mineralogy, and metallurgy, I would invite the attention of some of you. With such large mining interests as we now possess, and with so large a body of our population engaged in mining pursuits, I think we might reasonably expect contributions on these subjects. The depths of shafts in various localities, the direction of drives, the nature of the strata passed through during these operations, the position in which gold is found, the nature of the veins, leaders, or reefs in which it is found, their direction and inclination, and specimens of the gold-bearing strata of their adjacent casings, would indeed be a contribution to our knowledge, not only of scientific, but of great practical value. The processes, too, adopted for the extraction of the ore, observations on the defects of existing processes, suggestions for improvements, these would be of great value both scientifically and practically. In regard to mechanical science and engineering, it may at first be supposed that in the face of the great mechanical knowledge, activity, and ingenuity of the old world, we cannot hope here to aid. But with the example before us of what has been, and is being accomplished in the young country of America, I see no reason to despair of our producing mechanical and engineering adaptations suitable to our own circumstances, which could not emanate from the older countries. And the discovery of a new adaptation of a known principle, is almost equally valuable with the discovery of a new principle. There are, I fancy, in this colony very many branches of industry in which the ingenious application of mechanical powers would make that profitable which is now unprofitable. I am well aware that no amount of advice can create invention—necessity alone is its mother—but when we look to the vast number of useful inventions, to which, in America, that mother has given birth, and when we look to the necessity that in our colony exists for labour-saving machines, I would fain indulge the hope that even the stimulus of our Society may have some effect in finding a paternal ancestor for some useful mechanical inventions. To one member of our Society, at least, belongs the honour of having led the way in this department, in one prosperous and progressive branch of industry—I may almost now say of national industry; I mean in respect of machinery for the preparation for market of our Phormium tenax. Are there not other branches of industry which would be equally benefitted by the application of a little mechanical skill and invention? In mining especially—in agricultural operations more especially, I venture to say there is a wide field open for the application of mechanical and engineering science. And this leads me to one of the most important branches of science for a colony like our own. I mean agricultural science. The most ancient of all operations, agriculture is one of the youngest of the sciences. In this colony agriculture has been treated too much as it has been in past ages, rather as a sort of operation to be performed by orthodox means with an uncertain result, than as a scientific operation to be conducted on ascertained principles, and producing, when so conducted, a definite result. From haphazard farming we have had even in this province too many melancholy specimens of pecuniary ruin; until agriculture takes its legitimate place as a science we cannot hope it to be other than a record of manifest failures and of unaccountable successes. It is true that your typical farmer is of the most conservative type, and scouts the notion of science as applied to farming. He points to this, that, and the other prosperous farmer, who, without an atom of scientific knowledge has been successful, and to this, that, and the other professedly scientific farmer, who has gone to the dogs. But it is not so—the high farmer is not necessarily the scientific farmer. The prosperous farmer, without scientific knowledge, is one who has by intuitive perception seized and applied practically what science would teach the reason

of; and our desire should be to reduce to law and order those things which have made the one successful by accident, so that all engaged in the like pursuits may have the benefit of that which has made the one successful. I do most earnestly ask our farming friends to contribute to us, whether they join us as members or no, the result of their operations, whether successes or failures, and the processes and conditions which have led to these results. If I might be permitted to particularize on a subject of such importance, I would specially ask for observations of facts in reference to the growth of, and substance afforded to stock by the various grasses in our various soils. I would direct particular attention to the alleged failure of perennial rye grass seed, so as to determine whether the failure is owing to soil, climate, season, or other conditions. Only I would observe that what we want are facts not opinions—the latter can be had abundantly—the former is what we want. And so in regard to other crops. When a good one is grown of wheat, oats, or potatoes, or a bad one, we shall ask a contribution of the facts and circumstances, the soil, its previous culture, the subsoil, its nature and distance below, the season, and the culture; having these, we may, perhaps, be able to deduce general laws which would prove valuable to our country settlers, and especially to new settlers; not that we would desire to trench on the domains of our cognate society, the New Zealand Agricultural Society. Their business is more especially with results; ours is to work up from the results to the effective cause, thus making the result, if successful, available to, if unsuccessful, avoidable by, the mass of our settlers. And here I cannot help adverting to the comparative apathy with which the liberal offer of the Colonial Laboratory to analyse soils gratis has been responded to by our country settlers. An hour or two's labour would enable every farmer to know the composition of his soil, a little more investigation would teach him wherein his soil was defective for the growth of certain varieties of plants, and would guide him with considerable certainty, not by rule of thumb, to apply stable manure, bone-dust, guano, phosphates, or other manure to his land, so as to supply the missing or defective element in its composition. Pardon me, gentlemen, if I have dwelt too long on agriculture, but I feel that the products of the soil, whether in the shape of grain, wool, grass, meat, or minerals, are the fundamental elements of our colonial prosperity, and as such deserve our most special attention. And very nearly allied to agriculture, as a science, is the study of zoology. A strange combination it may appear to some, and yet when we look at what our farmers have suffered and will yet suffer, I venture to say, from the ravages of insects, it is not such a strange combination of ideas as it seems. We have, indeed, endeavoured in a sort of perfunctory manner, to cope with these insect enemies by the introduction through the Acclimatisation Society of insectivorous birds. And yet how many questions has this same action given rise to? What are the habits of our birds? First, of our native birds—the morepork, the kingfisher, even the hawk. Then of our introduced birds, whose habits in their native habitat we know, but what are their habits in the altered circumstances in which they are placed; for instance, are our pheasants more insectivorous than graminivorous? still an open question, I believe; and so, also, with regard to other birds: and then comes the higher question of the adjustment of good and evil; for what seems good is not all good, and may become an evil, and what appears to be an evil has good in it, too, and may be turned to good account. These only can be determined by a series of accurate observations. In reference specially to the insect life of New Zealand we are comparatively ignorant, and so we shall be till some one breeds from the caterpillar (the easiest obtainable form) the chrysalis, and from thence the moth or butterfly; and thence obtains the larvæ of the caterpillar, and observing their habits in their various stages, enables us to determine the appropriate remedy for their ravages. I specially commend this branch of scientific enquiry to those whose position or habits enable them to indulge in a country or suburban life. But passing from those more apparently practical applications of scientific enquiry to others but little less so, though less apparently so, I would point out to you that much yet remains to be determined in New Zealand, even geographically. Even in this province, extending as it does from lat. 39o to the North Cape, there is a large portion of it quite a terra incognita save to a few. Might not those few, through our Society, make known their knowledge to the many? And even in the well-known parts there are facts as to the elevation and subsidence of the land, the creation of sandhills and their progress, and conditions; the occurrence of landslips and their conditions; the existence and shifting of sand-bars in or near our harbour, and their conditions; the existence, temperature, and qualities of hot springs in various localities; these and many other geographical and semi-geographical facts, would be well worth careful and systematic observation; but above all I would ask the members of this Society, and through them our settlers at large, to devote some little attention to the history, mythology, ethnology, and archæology of the native race. I do so specially, because they are rapidly passing away from under our observation, as well as because I believe there still exists a rich mine for investigation and

record. Whence came they? and when came they to these islands? are questions wholly undetermined, and we in this province have, I believe, alone the data for determining them. To do so satisfactorily will require a large collection of facts. Their true history, so far as it can be ascertained; their mythical history, which is abundant if collected, as to some extent it has been in the records of the Native Lands Court; their traditions and poetry, which have been partially recorded by Sir George Grey and others; the construction of their skulls; the peculiarities of their language, which we may gain from Bishop Williams, Archdeacon Maunsell, Mr. Colenso, Mr. Davis, and others; the records of their existence and works, exhibited in their enormous pipi beds, and in their hangis all over the country; their terraces on Mount Eden, and the other volcanic hills of this isthmus; their stone axes; the shape and carving of their ornaments, their weapons and canoes; all these would tend to throw light on the history of the race; but more especially if any authentic account could yet be obtained of their ancient religion and rites, it would be most valuable, and worthy of preservation. In this branch of enquiry, we, —in this province—have advantages nowhere else possessed, and to us will belong the disgrace of allowing the records of the native race to perish, if we fail to record them. I ask you, therefore, gentlemen, to devote some part of your attention to this branch, and to put on record every fact, every tale, every tradition, that you may happen to become acquainted with. There are various other branches of scientific enquiry to which I might direct attention, —biology, the science of animal life; psychology, the science of mind; and many others. But I fear I have already detained you too long with these discursive remarks of mine. They will, I trust, be received as I have intended them—as aids or guides to thought; as germs, which, finding a resting place in some minds, one here, another there, may produce fruit in the shape of contributions to our proceedings. And pardon me, gentlemen, for reminding you that over and beyond the mere natural pleasure which is to be obtained by the observation and contemplation of the wondrous records of nature, and over and beyond the practical utilitarian advantages to be derived from the study, there is the higher pleasure, the nobler advantage, of thereby bringing ourselves into nearer communication with the great Creator of all. They are His works, His hand-writing, to be read and studied by all men, and though they, like His written word, may be misunderstood, or misrepresented, yet we believe that He will grant to the humble, earnest student, a knowledge of the truth. The fallacy is now well-nigh exploded that the study of physical science tends to make men materialists, and to lead them to conclusions antagonistic to the teachings of revelation. This fallacy or prejudice has arisen in great part from the foolish idolatry with which we have long looked on the Bible as being the Word of God, instead of accepting it as what it professes to be, only a Word of God. As a recent writer well puts it, there in one only who is the Word. The records of nature are as truly His word as His written revelation, and are His own fingers' writing, not passed through the filter of human language, uncorrupted by age or translations, and are not more liable to be misunderstood or misinterpreted than what we have been accustomed to call the Word. Both being His words, they are complementary of each other; their teachings cannot be antagonistic; they will throw mutual light on each other. The humble student of nature will as surely be led up to a knowledge of, and communion with the great Father of all, as will the student of theology. That we may be enabled to cultivate humility in our pursuit of knowledge is, I feel sure, your desire, as it is mine, that we may increase the numbers of our seekers after knowledge; that we may be able to contribute to the increase of knowledge is the object of our Society. A truly noble object it is, and we may well say with the poet— “Knowledge is of things we see; And yet we trust it comes from Thee: A beam in darkness let it grow: Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell: That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before, But vaster.” Gentlemen, I have much pleasure in now declaring the second session of the Institute open for transaction of business. Papers read:— (1.) “On the Puka (Meryta Sinclairii),” by T. Kirk. (See ante, p. 100.) The author exhibited specimens obtained from the Taranga Island, where he had recently discovered it. Captain Hutton remarked that he had accompanied Mr. Kirk on his expedition to the Hen and Chickens in search of these plants, and they had found eight on one of the

Chickens, but they were unable to find any on the Hen. He thought it not improbable that those eight were the only plants of the kind in existence, and they were situated in such a position as to render them all liable to be destroyed by a fire, were such an accident to arise in consequence of fishermen touching at the island. (2.) “On the introduction of the English and Chinese Pheasants into the Province of Auckland,” by Captain Hutton, F. G. S. (See ante, p. 80.) The Rev. T. Bruce inquired whether any attempt had ever been made to introduce the English pheasant into that part of the province lying south of Auckland, by conveying birds from Mangonui and liberating them in the neighbourhood of Auckland. The President could not answer the inquiry of Mr. Bruce from his own personal knowledge, but he thought the subject was one which gave rise to several interesting questions. For instance, they had found from experience that, although the English pheasant bred much quicker than the Chinese when in confinement, when the birds were set at liberty the reverse was the case. Possibly they might at some future time have papers laid before them by other members which would deal with these questions.