running eastward from the mountains; we reached it early next morning; away to the west I could see in the mountain ranges a pass where the river cuts its way towards the plain, through a gorge which I am told is of great depth; in front of us lay the riverbed, some two miles wide, intersected by numerous streams of rapid water, icy cold, and in time of freshes uniting in a formidable torrent of more than a mile in width. However, we were fortunate in finding the water comparatively low; my guide threaded his way with caution through backwaters and shallow streams, keeping well above rapids, and sandy places, which are often dangerously "quick." It took us nearly an hour to reach the further bank, the water never rising higher than the saddle-girths, but running with such force that any slip on the part of the horse might be dangerous, as swimming in such a stream would be difficult. I had been warned not to look down on the water for fear of giddiness, but to keep my eyes on the further shore. Well, "the river past," I did not act on the Spanish proverb, "the Saint forgotten," but uttered, without words, my thanksgiving. At night we reached an accommodation house, on the Ashburton river, in the Maori tongue, Hakatere, and the next morning, crossing it easily, my guide left me, as his way lay southward, and mine westward.
There I had to leave the track which we had hitherto kept, steering for the principal peak of the Mount Peel range, and for some distance found myself in difficult country. The plains here are swampy, traversed by rivulets locally known as "creeks," deep, narrow, and bordered by treacherous ground, in which a horse may easily be bogged; thickets also of cab-
