Little difference was observed here in the clothes worn or the general customs in vogue in America; but British names for certain business callings are the rule, such as ironmonger, fishmonger, mercer, draper, etc.
Everybody cuts their own bread in Dunedin. Sometimes resting on a wooden dish, and in other instances on an ordinary piece of board, the loaf is placed on the table, with a big knife alongside. Meat is served carved, however.
Splendid horses are noticeable—the big, heavy-bodied, hairy-legged Clydesdale breed.
Street cars do not run earlier than 1 o'clock on Sunday afternoons, when church services are over.
Liquor licenses are issued only to hotel-keepers; none to places where travelers are not accommodated. Hotel expenses were only $1.50 a day.
South Pole expeditions sailing from Europe generally call and remain some time at Port Chalmers to refurnish their stores before piercing the icy reaches of the Antarctic division of the world, and this is the first port explorers reach upon emerging from that but partially known region. Dual names to many seaports throughout the British Empire prove confusing to the ordinary person. A news cablegram may tell of a South Pole exploring vessel having reached "Port Chalmers, N. Z." Seafaring men would know at once by the name the message bore that the explorers were in Dunedin; but very few persons in America or Europe would know that Port Chalmers and Dunedin denote the same place. Durban, South Africa, is another instance of a place known by two names. A seafaring man would call Durban "Port Natal" instead of the name by which it is better known; and cables also give it as Port Natal. Instances could be cited of a captain saying he was sailing to a certain "port" which a passenger never heard of, but who would readily recognize the place if the name was mentioned as it is designated in books.
The apteryx—or kiwi, as this bird is generally called—is a native of New Zealand, and one of the strangest fowl in the world. Man, beast, animal and fowl have been provided with two arms and two legs, four legs, or two legs and two wings, respectively. The kiwi, as large as a hen and brown of color, however, has been furnished with two legs, but has no wings. Its feet are similar to those of other fowl; it has a long bill, and thin, scattering feathers grow straight from its head. The sides of the kiwi appear as free of wings as those of a cat. The habits of that strange bird are similar to the pheasants. Its call note, "ki-i-wi!" uttered during the early hours of the night, has great penetrating power, and ceases after midnight.
"Not far from here is a waterfall with a drop of 2,000 feet—the highest in the world," remarked a patriotic New Zealander. "Is it an uninterrupted waterfall?" was asked. "No, there are several breaks," was the answer. When reminded that Yosemite Falls, in California, has a sheer drop of 1,600 feet and a total descent of 2,400 feet, it occurred to him he may have used the word "world" inadvisedly. Not far from Dunedin is the natural scenic section of that country, with a splendid chain of lakes, glaciers, high mountains and attractive gorges. The highest mountain in Australia is 7,000 feet, and Mount Cook, not far from Dunedin, rises to 12,000 feet. Cold weather prevails in this section in winter, accompanied by ice, snow and blizzards.
No snakes or poisonous insects are said to be found in that country. One may lie down on the earth in any place and have no fear of being bitten or stung by anything that lives under or on the surface.
From Dunedin to Christchurch I had my first experience riding on New Zealand trains, owned by the government. Some of the passenger coaches are patterned after the American cars. The track is more than a foot narrower—3 feet 6 inches—which does not allow room for two persons on a seat on each side of the car aisles. One row of seats will seat two persons, but those on the other side accommodate but one person. Seats are upholstered, and the train schedule is 30 miles an hour. This was a first-class car, and the fare three cents a mile. Some of the second-class coaches are not as well equipped. Boards, secured to the sides, with only a thin cushion over them, run the length of the vehicle. It is merely a bench, no partition separating passengers, the side of the coach serving as a back rest. The corner seats are coveted ones, as a passenger can put his back to the end and stretch his legs. It is the worst accommodation I have seen in railroad coaches. The government charges its patrons two cents a mile; no reduction in fare is allowed for return tickets.