us had passed through undor circumstances more favourable. For an hour or two, tho breeze continued to blow well from the eastward, and, with the glare of the sun subdued by cumulus clouds, we had some pleasant, though distant, glimpses of Stewart’s Island scenery to the southward, and of the peculiar variety of hill and lowland which are the characteristics of the northern shore. The numerous patches of foul ground lying off the coast, between New River and Jacob’s River, were made visible by only a slight break on the rocks awash, and by the presence of some quaint-looking peaks in their midst. These dangers are chiefly to the eastward of Centre Island. This island is not of great height in any part, but it slopes from its summit gently to the north and east: and it is asserted that these islands in Foveaux Straits—Ruapuke, for instance—enjoy a better climate, and a more genial soil, than do some of the contiguous parts of the mainland. This, however, may be a delusion, not dissimilar to that of the good minister of an island parish of the West of Scotland, who besought a blessing “on the muckle Cumbrae and the little Cumbrae, and the adjacent islands of Great Britain and Ireland.” As we passed Centre Island, the Raggedy Ranges of Stewart’s Island opened to view—that portion of the island where gold has lately been discovered, and where some diggers are now at work. On our visit to the Bluff, on the return passage, we were assured that the discovery is a substantial one, and though the country is exceedingly inaccessible and rough, there appears to be a disposition on the part of Southland to turn it to profitable account. The reference, by the way, suggests a question—What are the exact relations between Southland and Stewart’s Island; and are these relations—pardon the magniloquence—according to the Constitution? This part of Stewart’s Island bears, in appearance, a close affinity to portions of the southern shore of Cook Strait, and it is evident that the ridging of the coast is as much the result of the wasting influence of the great western waves as of the primitive formation of the land. Before we reached this point, the Solander rose above the horizon—at first, a mere finger point, but it soon came to be seen in its true proportions, I was going to say, as the grand solitary sentinel at the western entrance of the Strait; but unfortunately for the convenient use of a good phrase, there is another and a smaller Solander—what Hyperborean islanders call a “calf.” The larger rock, geographers tell us, is 1100 ft. in height; and a Maori boatman whom we met told us that some of its distinguishing features, not visible to the voyager, are an abundance of grass, a large population of wood-hens, and a lake upon its elevated summit.
We continued steaming towards Windsor Point, keeping a course W. by N., and to say we did so, is to say all that we did, so far as the passengers are concerned, for we were rather distant from the shore to be much interested in its features; and the only objects near us were some huge patches of detached kelp, which rose and fell on the surface water as if instinct with life, and provided with that convenient vertebral construction which the real live sea serpent is supposed to possess. Past Tewaewae Bay, we were sufficiently near the shore to be more interested, because there was something more to be seen in the thickly wooded slopes, in the deep ravines, and in the snow-capped
