We may reach the coast by following the line of the Wanganui, the most beautiful river in New Zealand. For scores of miles we rush down, in the little launch. In one reach the river is swift but smooth, running between sloping, densely forested banks; in another 45 steep fern-clad cliffs close in to form a gorge through which the water foams and swirls in rapids. Above, 46 we may catch sight of a Maori village; all the way down we meet canoes, slowly poling against the swift current; while lively parties of Maoris board us at every landing. Below Pipiriki the scenery changes, and near the sea we pass through open level country dotted with sheep and dairy farms, and these are steadily pushing the forest rim further back. Along the coast strip there is a whole string of small agricultural towns which suggest to us that the country round is of great value to the farmer. It is the same all the way to New Plymouth which lies under the shadow of Mount Egmont, a huge detached volcanic cone. Everywhere, in the clearings by the railway, are prosperous-looking dairy farms, the Taranaki district being specially famous for the quantity and quality of its dairy produce. Why is this so? The district is warm, it is also moist, as it lies on the west coast; in fact Mount Egmont enjoys the heaviest rainfall in the whole island. Here is a farm in Taranaki with the 47 mountain in the distance, and here we have a near view of the great cone. 48
The economic progress of North Island, so far as we have seen it, has consisted largely in the occupation 49 of the lowlands near the river mouths, and the gradual clearing of the forest further inland—a rather different forest from that of South Island, since the climate is warmer and drier. To open up the country for farming we had to reduce the hunting grounds of the Maori, and even to drain, in spite of his opposition, some of his favourite marshes. As a result of the settlement we find in the south-east, south and south-west, butter, wool, meat and timber produced in large quantities; while in the centre we have nothing but the scenery and some forest as yet untouched.
If we think of the products which are most valuable to New Zealand at the present day, we shall find that with the exception of timber they have been introduced from abroad by the white settlers and were unknown to the Maoris. But the marshland, dear to the Maori heart, produces one plant which was necessary to the natives in the past and is still very useful to us. This is the New Zealand flax, though it is more like hemp than the flax from which linen is made in the northern hemisphere. The Maoris wove the fibre of this plant into clothes. Here we see the long blade-like leaves 50 being cut in the swamp; we follow it to the mills where it is unloaded and sorted into lengths. Inside the mill it is put through various processes until the fibre finally appears as a rope or bale of fine white twine 51 ready for the market. In this form it is sent from the mill all over the world and commands prices as high as Manila hemp with which perhaps we are more familiar.
We will now leave the south and pay a short visit to the northern districts. Here the conditions are somewhat different. There is gold to be found at the base of the Coromandel Peninsula, and it is mined largely from the quartz rock, not merely washed from the alluvium as in South Island. This has led to the growth of a group of small mining towns. There is coal, too, in the basin of the Waikato and in the districts north of Auckland. The presence of these minerals in itself would lead us to expect a difference between the north and south of the island; but the difference extends further, to the vegetable products of the soil. We are moving out of the west wind region into the zone where, as in Victoria, the greater part of the rain falls in the mild winter, and the summer is dry and hot though tempered by the nearness of the sea. It is a land where the orange and the vine grow well, in great contrast to the cool and moist region in the south of South Island. Many people find the change from Auckland to Dunedin or Invercargill very trying to the constitution.
North Auckland has its forests, but they are different from those of the south, for here and here alone grows 52 the Kauri pine. Here is pictured the life of the tree. First we see it growing proudly in the forest; next 53 the lumbermen are at work on the huge trunk; finally the logs are hauled away, and at any of the little 54 ports of the peninsula we may see the timber ships loading; here, for instance, is a Norwegian sailing ship 55 taking in a cargo for Liverpool. The Kauri pine is responsible too for a curious local industry. The forests of the past have left masses of gum buried in the swamps, and many labourers are employed in spearing or digging for it. They become very expert in finding likely spots in which to probe. Here we have a group of Croatian diggers ready to set out for the day’s 56 work; notice the long slender spears which they carry and the great swamp saw for digging out the gum. We may see them scraping the gum and then follow them home in the evening over the desolate 57 plain to their primitive camp. It is a strange industry carried on by these foreigners, and the life seems hard, but the resin is one of the most useful for making our varnishes.
We have already noticed the great number of bays and inlets along the long northern neck of the island. In the far north is the Bay of Islands, the site of the 58 earliest settlement, represented now only by the small town of Russell. Fifty miles further south we have the deep inlet of Whangarei Harbour, where a port and a short railway line mark the presence of coal in the country behind. Finally, on Waitemata Harbour, a western arm of the wide Hauraki Gulf, stands Auckland, 59 the former capital and still the largest town in New Zealand. The population of the city with its suburbs is now over a hundred thousand. Only eight miles away by rail is Onehunga, on Manukau Harbour, 60 a gulf almost landlocked but opening into the waters of the Tasman Sea.
The best way to appreciate Auckland is to approach it from the sea. As we steam along the coast from the north, on our left is the curiously shaped Rangitoto Island, an extinct volcano; on our right is a long peninsula, with two low rounded hills, also volcanic, joined together by a low neck of land on which stands the suburb of Devonport. Across this neck we get a brief glimpse of the city standing on two groups of small hills with narrow valleys running down to the harbour between them. Then we turn round the North Head and suddenly the whole bay, two miles broad, opens out before us. On our left are the residential suburbs of Remuera and Parnell, with houses and gardens running down to the water’s edge; further up the bay is the main city with its long quays busy with traffic, and large steamers anchored in the deep channel. Beyond are more suburbs, and we can follow the winding inlet for fifteen miles through beautiful scenery which reminds us somewhat of Port Jackson. On the north side again another city is growing up, so that Auckland seems to be built round a great lake, open at the two ends. The air is clear and free from smoke and everywhere the sparkling blue water reflects the bright sunshine. Here we see Auckland, looking across the 61 water from Devonport, and here we look down on it from Mount Victoria. 62
Auckland.
Auckland, for its beauty, has been styled the Naples of the South, and, like Naples, it has its volcanoes. We have noticed some of these already, and in the neighbouring country over sixty small cones, such as the one before us, can be counted within 63 a radius of ten miles. Even the hills on which the city stands are partly built up of volcanic debris. Fortunately for Auckland the volcanoes are no longer active, and it lacks also the picturesque dirt and squalor of Naples. It is modern, clean and prosperous. It has also something more than beautiful scenery to recommend it. Though it suffered in some ways by the removal of the capital to Wellington, it is still, and is likely to remain the chief port-of-call in the Dominion. It is near to Sydney and is the natural centre for the trade of the neighbouring Pacific islands. It is the last port of departure for vessels sailing between Australia and America; and when the Panama Canal is finished, it will stand on the shortest route from the eastern United States to Sydney and Melbourne, and an alternative route to the Suez Canal for the United Kingdom and the whole of Western Europe. It is the chief link connecting New Zealand with the outer world, and a fit point of departure for our final cruise among the islands to the north.