sound of hymns sung with much fervour rising and falling as the procession wound its way up towards the church. At the grave-side the hill-side was thick with people, and I took the opportunity of speaking to them, and then asking them to sing. For a long time we remained there, the evening sunshine casting its quiet glory on the forest and the distant sea, lighting up the faces of the great crowd of mourners, who seemed loth to leave the place.
At night, in the simple hotel where I had a room, after supper, came a deputation to thank me for my services. Miners are nothing if they are not grateful for any kindness or sympathy shown them; all being done with due formality and politeness; some cake and wine and tea; a few well considered speeches and much friendly talk. At midnight work began again, the night shifts in full swing; engines puffing and rattling, bells tingling; in fact, as much noise as in daytime, a glorious moonshine flooding the valley. Next day I rode back, but found the Hokitika still in considerable flood; my boat and man were there, but he advised going well up stream before trying to cross, as the mouth of the river had changed, with a straight run out to sea, and some risk of being caught by the current and swept out into the surf. Finding that we could not make the landing steps at the end of the wharf, we decided to run the boat ashore and jump out where the sandy beach curved a little. Jerry Morphew, rowing bow, had the painter ready to hand, and tumbled out on all fours, digging his hands into the sand to get a chance of holding the boat, and I followed in similar fashion. "That was touch and go," said Jerry, "if we had gone out to sea 'twould have been a bad job." He is too old for
