few leave it, except for a holiday,—a large majority are the descendants of its first settlers.
I have had my usual expeditions to Westland, but of late the journey across the Southern Alps has been less laborious. A railway line on either side of the Otira Pass and its neighbourhood reduces the actual coaching to some eight hours' work. The Government have entered into a contract for a tunnel, with its necessary approaches; the work has begun, but, personally, I have doubts as to its success for a long time. If mining experience goes for much, it is probable that the contractors will meet with great difficulty. Instead of the solid rock which has been bored through in the Swiss tunnels, they will, it is thought, meet with a confused mass of boulders, broken strata of rock, and the stuff called "pug," a sort of spongy clay which once tapped will force its way through anything but heavy walling; to say nothing of hot water springs. Should the tunnel be completed, travellers will miss the romance and grand beauty of the journey in old coaching days.
I have also been to Auckland to attend General Synod. The journey is tedious, by sea and land, occupying nearly four days. Auckland is rapidly becoming the most populous city in New Zealand; an ideal situation on low volcanic hills, surrounding a magnificent harbour, and almost semi-tropical climate and vegetation, so different to the South Island. It is thoroughly healthy and free from the malaria which haunts hot countries. The hot spring district of Rotorua in the Province has become famous as a Sanatorium; excellent hotels and boardinghouses have been built. Large numbers visit the place from Australia and elsewhere. It possesses, I am told,
