The climate of this region appeared to us very nearly perfect, favoring human life as well as that of the vegetable kingdom. It may be compared as a whole to the climate of the best portions of Europe. It has the soft, genial atmosphere of the south of France and Italy (which is best enjoyed at Nice and Mentone), but none of the chill caused by the piercing mistral of the mountains, nor the scorching blasts of the African and Egyptian siroccos. In seeking to recall a climate which most nearly approaches it, Madeira alone suggests itself. Its range of temperature is more limited than any other place we have visited north or south of the Equator, or in either hemisphere. Summer and winter are here only the dry and the rainy seasons; flowers, vegetables, grapes, in short all plants grow bright and thrifty the whole year round in the open air. Tropical and hardy plants are here equally at home; Scottish firs and Indian palms, oranges, lemons, india-rubber trees, and limes thrive side by side. As we were told in Japan one could do there, so here one can gather a pretty bouquet in the open air any day in the year.
We must not forget to speak of the mineral resources of this Province of Auckland, which were in the early days of its settlement quite unsuspected, but which have turned out to be both extensive and profitable. A gold-bearing range of lofty hills runs northward along the banks of the Thames River, ending on the Coromandel Peninsula. Here several quartz mines are being successfully worked for gold, though the process of disintegration does not seem to be satisfactorily understood. It is well known that not more than half the precious metal which the rock contains is realized by the means now employed for its extraction. In order to obtain the best and latest improvements in machinery designed for this purpose, a representative agent and proprietor of these Thames River mines came to the United States in the same ship with the author, to visit our principal mining centres in the States of Idaho, Colorado, California, and so forth. Coal of excellent quality crops out in various parts of the Province, particularly at the Bay of Islands, and several coal mines are regularly worked. Copper is found here also, and a valuable article of manganese, besides iron, nickel, bismuth, asphaltum, and other minerals. In Poverty Bay petroleum has been discovered in great abundance, and though it is made no special use of at present, it is sure in the near future to be profitably utilized.
The district to which we have just referred as being rich in gold-bearing quartz and other minerals, and which is situated along the banks of the Thames and Waikato rivers, is also productive as a pastoral and agricultural country. A large portion of the land is laid down to grass and other crops, and is well stocked with sheep and cattle. Government has done much to encourage agricultural enterprise among the people of the province, realizing its great importance over all other industries. The remarkable fertility of the soil seconds this purpose, and there are hundreds of square miles of it as level as our Western prairies. We were told of a company called the Waikato Land Association, which was formed not alone for pecuniary profit to its stockholders, but also to advance the pastoral and agricultural interests of the Province. This association owns a hundred thousand acres of rich land which is being drained and brought into the most available condition. We saw the operation going on in the form of extensive and systematic drainage, tree-planting, and other means of improvement upon the company's lands, through the centre of which the railroad runs southward from Auckland.
CHAPTER XVI.
A Journey to the King's Country.—An Experienced "Whip."—Volcanic Hills.—A New Zealand Forest.—A Strangely Afflicted Boy.—Lake Rotorua.—Ohinemutu.—Funeral of a Maori Chief.—Wailing and Weeping.—Moonlight on the Lake.—Wonderland.—Spouting Geysers and Boiling Pools.—Savage Mode of Slaughter.—Maori Houses.—Chivalry and Cannibalism.—Savage and Civilized Life.
Here in Auckland we were also in the vicinity of the Hot Lake District of North New Zealand, and a week was devoted to a visit to the remarkable points of interest connected therewith. To accomplish this, one goes from the capital of the Province a hundred and thirty miles to Oxford, and thence thirty miles by stage to the native town of Ohinemutu. This route carries the traveller in a southeast course, and leads into the very heart of the North Island, among the Maori tribes. The cars took us over a level country, which however is bounded on either side, five or six miles distant, by lofty serrated hills, presenting a confusion of irregular forms. These hills contain an abundance of mineral wealth in the form of gold, silver, iron, coal, and manganese. Many low-lying marshy fields of native flax were observed, and the Waikato River was three times crossed in its winding course. Large plantations containing several thousand each of young pine-trees of the American species were seen, covering gentle slopes and many broad acres of level land, where Government is endeavoring to establish artificial forests throughout wide reaches of unwooded country. These trees grow more rapidly here than they do even in their native soil. Miles upon miles of this level country were covered only by the low-growing ti-tree and the ever present ferns; the former, being a sort of tall heath, was in some places in bloom, producing an effect as if a light fall of feathery snow had lodged upon the delicate branches. Flocks of sheep and lambs were numerous, but the population was sparse. The whole landscape was lighted up here and there by the bright yellow leaves of the wattle-tree, which contrasted strongly with the black beech, the deep green of the cabbage-palm, and what is called the white-pine, which is totally unlike any pine we ever saw. Several miniature villages were passed through, where a few small European houses clustered in the neighborhood of the railroad depots, consisting of a blacksmith's forge, a grocery-store, a one-story inn, and three or four dwellings. There was plenty of water everywhere. Now it was a small and pretty stream, and again it was a large river's course. At one rural hamlet a rustic water-wheel was revolving, splashing and sparkling in the sunshine with a noisy, gleeful sound, telling how easily and thoroughly these fields might be irrigated. We passed through what is called the Waikato Pastures, a rural district where herds of fine-looking cattle were browsing, and where cheese-making is a flourishing industry. Some coal mines were being worked upon the route, connected by side-tracks with this main branch of the railroad; the coal, it was plain to see, was a good article for domestic use or for manufacturing purposes. Small Maori encampments, composed of a dozen lodges each, were scattered along our way, the lazy, tattooed natives—men and women—lingering about the stations with blackened pipes in their mouths, smoking the rankest sort of tobacco, while they kept up a chattering like Benares monkeys. Why Maori women and savage squaws generally are so fond of wearing men's hats, with a feather stuck into them, we cannot understand; for though serving the purpose of a head-covering, they are far from being ornamental. The awkward Maori men looked doubly outré in their ill-fitting European clothes.
Oxford is the somewhat pretentious name given to the hamlet where the railroad ends, containing five houses, one of which is the Oxford Royal,—a neat but circumscribed inn, affording us a sleeping apartment measuring exactly seven feet wide by nine in length. The stage-drive from here to Ohinemutu—the centre of the geysers, boiling springs, and mud caldrons, and also of the Maori reservation—is by a road a little over thirty miles in length, which we do not hesitate to pronounce to be the hardest to travel that it has yet been our misfortune to encounter. The patient reader will bear witness that we do not often parade the hardships of travel, but it makes our bones ache to recall those seven hours of staging; and yet they were by no means without their compensation. It was the author's good fortune to sit upon the box with an experienced and admirable "whip,"—Harry Kerr by name,—who was fully equal to his business. The vehicle was an American stage, the harnesses on the horses were American made, and the stage line was owned by an American,—a resident in New Zealand for many years, during which time he has held a mail contract throughout the country. We travelled lightly, there being no other passenger, and four stout horses forming the motive power; but had not the stage been constructed of the best seasoned material, and put together in the most thorough manner, it would have been left upon the road in fragments before it had completed the trip. The traveller under such circumstances is always more or less dependent upon the intelligence of the driver who takes him through a new country, and we cheerfully acknowledge our indebtedness on this occasion. We can well understand why Harry Kerr is a favorite in the Auckland district.
On leaving Oxford the journey takes one at first through a section of country where the hills were thrown about in the wildest fashion during the ancient volcanic period, causing them to present a grotesqueness of aspect which is quite beyond description. Here the bowels of the earth vomited forth their fiery secretions of molten lava, and as it cooled, it formed itself into countless ridges and hills, no two of which are alike. The road wound over hills, down into gulches, and skirted precipices where to have deviated a few inches only from the proper track would have been instant destruction. As we rose to the summit of some elevation loftier than the rest, the view became expansive. From one of these summits was seen, nearly one hundred miles away on the far horizon, the broad, bold, snow-covered mountain Ruapehu, ten thousand feet high. The last portion of the journey from Oxford to Ohinemutu took us through one of the grandest forests in all New Zealand, extending eighteen or twenty miles without a human habitation or any sign of life, save the flutter of an occasional bird.