hot by only a foot or so, and sometimes only by inches. In the hot ones the boiling clay often splashes and spouts out a great deal farther than one expects, as if a live imp had its habitation there and wished to maliciously surprise the intruder. And perhaps the most astonishing thing of all is the growth of ferns and manuka, which flourish luxuriantly on the very edge of these hot springs, apparently delighting in the steam and the sulphur fumes.
The hotel people told us of a great many more interesting things to be seen in the neighbourhood, and made us wish that our time was not so limited, but really it would take months to do this wonderful district justice; we did not see nearly all there was to see at Rotorua, although our diligence in sight-seeing during our week there was truly praiseworthy, and most of all I should have liked to see the rest of the lakes in the magic chain, for the road beyond Rotoiti traverses the scene of Hongi’s wonderful march through the bush.
And as we left Rotorua only half-explored, so, too, we had to leave Wai-o-tapu and push on towards Taupo. It was just upon six, the official dinner-hour in New Zealand (whether you are hungry or not) when we reached the next stage, Wairakei, so long had we delayed at Wai-o-tapu, and the hostess of the hotel told us very significantly to hurry if we wanted any dinner, for the Rotorua and Taupo coaches had both arrived full of passengers.
But after dinner we lingered, dawdling about the pretty gardens until the moon rose, for we did not want to lose any of the scenery of our last stage that day. The country had been more interesting between Wai-o-tapu and Wairakei, and report said that the best bit of all was that between Wairakei and Taupo.
And for once report did not lie. We drove along a road cut out of the cliff with the beautiful Waikato like a path of silver at the bottom of the precipitous drop on our left, and saw the Huka Falls for the first time in the radiance of the moon,—a sight that no photograph could do justice to. After leaving them behind we drove through more open country, fragrant with manuka and the blue-gums at Taupo, until we were close upon the lake. It looked simply lovely in the moonlight, a vast sheet of burnished steel with a slight ripple in it. The mountains behind its farthest shores were covered with snow, although the summer was well towards its zenith, and between the tallest peaks, Ruapehu and Tongariro, we could see quite distinctly, so clear and still was the night, the smoke from the active volcano, Ngarahue.
The proprietor of the Terraces Hotel was expecting us, so we left the village behind and drove straight on along the road on the edge of the lake and up through an irregular avenue of lilac and acacia, elderberry, plane, poplar, oak, and pine trees, their mingled perfume greeting us like a welcome that was only a foreshadowing of the hearty one extended by the kindly Irishman, our host Mr McKinley. He and his nieces and nephew, who do all the work of the hotel, could not do too much for us that night, and made us feel like travellers
