I found it without difficulty; and as future visitors to Invercargill may possibly like to read up special works on its exhibits, I give the following catalogue of everything I saw:
No. 1. was the skull of a gigantic cetacean. This was in the hall. Before examining this remarkable relic, students may with advantage refresh their memories by again referring to the terrible trials of the adventurous Jonah.
No. 2. Two frowsy deer in a glass case. These were in a passage upstairs. The attitude of these animals reminds you of the well-known Psalm: ‘As pants the hart for cooling streams.’
No. 3. A mangy marsupial, probably from Australia. This interesting specimen is near the frowsy deer. The skin of this creature, which in every respect, bar building nests and laying eggs, is a connecting link between the sheep and the ostrich, cannot fail to impress the thoughtful visitor that moth and rust corrupt the treasures which we lay up for ourselves on earth.
A special catalogue of this interesting and valuable collection has not previously been printed. The council of the institution are at liberty to reprint my notes in full. Although I have written the catalogue from memory, I must say that I have often had greater difficulty in remembering the contents of a shark’s stomach. I trust that there are no mistakes.
When I meet the gentleman who sent me through the rain to interview these treasures, it would be well if he had either a suit of armour, or else a bottle of arnica, or other preparation for the relief of bruises.
From Invercargill we went by train to Kingston, on Lake Wakatipu. The whole journey was, on account of the drizzly, mizzly, foggy, sleety, snowy weather, a failure. The Alps of New Zealand in summer-time may be enjoyable, but in winter they are about as enjoyable as the Arctic regions. Polar bears might like the trip, but it was even too much for Scotchmen. The first part of the journey was over swampy brown plains. Here and there are a few farms and furze fences. The bush we saw was of a very scraggy second-class description. The trees were stunted, weather-beaten, covered with moss, and half dead. Beneath them was a tangle of impenetrable scrub. Mixed in with the latter are tangles of a vine-like plant called a lawyer, the underside of the leaves of which are fish-hook-like thorns. It looks innocent, but it is a fearful plant when it seizes you. I can’t say more, or the profession might institute an action for libel. The only cheering sight in the murky landscape was the yellow bushes of furze. There was also a little pleasure derived from the absence of the monotonous Australian gums. At a place called Lumsden, big mountains came in sight, the more distant of which were white with snow. With the exception of a tropical-looking plant called a cabbage palm, the trees had disappeared. On the hillsides we saw thousands of rabbits. At one small station we saw a professional rabbiter with a pack of some twenty dogs, and a horse loaded with rabbit-skins. A rabbiter may get about twopence for each rabbit-skin. In the market these skins are worth from 1s. to 1s. 10d. per lb., and there are about eight skins to a pound. At one station of 80,000 acres near Lumsden, they employed about 500 dogs, and caught about 300,000 rabbits per year. The total export of rabbit-skins from New Zealand amounts to several millions per year. In 1881, 8,514,685 skins, valued at £84,744, were exported.
On the day the first rabbit was let loose in this part of the country, a great dinner was given to commemorate the successful introduction of this useful little animal. Shortly after this a law was passed for the protection of Bunny, whereby it was enacted that any person shooting a rabbit should be fined—I think Mac said £20. Now the law is that the man who does not shoot Bunny, but protects and cherishes him, is the person who is fined. Half the time of the Colonial legislators is spent in considering how Bunny shall be dealt with. This year the Queensland Government made a special appropriation of £100,000 to carry on the rabbit warfare. As a war was imminent with Russia, the same Government considered that the taxation might be increased £90,000. How indignant Russians ought to feel if they knew that they had to play second fiddle to a parcel of rabbits. But what is to be done with Bunny? Bunny in the Colonies is different to Bunny in the home country. In the Colonies he can climb walls, run up hollow trees, and swim creeks. Instead of breeding like the proverbial rabbit, he changes his home habits and breeds all the year round. He begins when he is six months old, and continues until he dies.
Any respectable rabbit ought to be ashamed of such a family tree.
One small army of rabbits having started, they breed larger and larger armies at an increasing rate, which advance like a browsing herd.