Chapter III: Part 3

FRIDAY, JANUARY 17.—In Rotorua, a great deal is made of the native women who act as guides. One hears of Maggie, the guide, before reaching the town, but we did not see her; she became so famous that an Englishman married her, and she is now living unhappily in London. But there are many others here, for the profession is easily learned; after one trip through the geyser field, I am certain I would be competent to act as a guide. The native woman who accompanied us pointed out several holes where people had fallen in and lost their lives. She says that when a man falls in a hot pool, he disappears, and nothing is ever seen of him again, except his liver; in a few hours after the man disappears, his liver is seen floating on the surface, and is recovered. This is the sort of information possessed by the guides. A native woman fell into one hot crater, and the guides say her screaming can still be heard. I listened attentively, and the hissing steam made a noise at times which sounded something like a woman’s scream.... In the warm pools, boys and girls swim together, stark naked. The entrance to the geyser field is over a bridge spanning a roaring stream, and girls fourteen and fifteen years old jump from this bridge into the water, if pennies are thrown as an inducement. The jump is a high one, and I saw no boys making it. In one warm pool where naked boys and girls were in bathing we saw a little white girl, but the guide did not know her, and could not explain how she came there.... Every visitor to New Zealand soon remarks that the women do not care much about their feet or figures. Still, their waists and feet do not seem larger than they should be; perhaps women in other parts of the world unnaturally pinch themselves.... Tourists do all sorts of queer things. One woman who sits at our table carries her own tea and teapot, and another carries her own bread.... A rumor came to the hotel today that the big geysers were spouting, and there was hurrying among the guests, but the rumor proved only partly true; the spouting lasted only a few minutes, and the guests of the Grand did not see it. Last Wednesday, when we were on the lake trip, the big geysers spouted nine hours, breaking all records. A bulletin board is displayed in the hotel office, and this is used to keep the guests informed as to the doings of the geysers.... There seems to be no doubt that we look funny. In walking about, we hear people say to each other, as we pass, “They are Americans.” They say it softly, and do not think we hear it, for the people here are very polite; but we do hear it, and we remark that people stare at us when they think we are not looking. We undoubtedly look odd to them. I wonder if our talk sounds as funny to them as theirs sounds to us?... Wages are not as high here as in the United States, but we often hear the statement made that this is more than compensated for by the lower cost of living. We went into a grocery store today, and inquired prices. Potatoes sell at three cents a pound; cabbage, eight cents a head; green peas, thirty-two cents a peck; sugar, six cents a pound; flour, $3 per hundred pounds; bread, eight cents a loaf; crackers, twelve cents a pound; tomatoes and peaches, twenty-four cents per two-pound can; eggs, forty-two cents per dozen; butter, twenty-eight cents a pound. An inferior watermelon costs seventy-five cents; round steak, eighteen cents a pound; leg of mutton, twelve cents; loin of mutton, ten. But prices are higher here than in the average New Zealand town, as not much is produced in this vicinity. The grocer said freight rates were extortionate, although the railroad is owned by the government. The apples displayed were from California, but I did not know the variety, although the grocer asked me the question.... You frequently see here tin cans labeled “Pratt’s benzine;” but if you examine the label closely, you note that it is supplied by the Standard Oil Co., of New York.... Although lake trout are caught in great quantities here, it is against the law to sell them. We saw a man come in today with as many rainbow trout as he and two boys could carry. Lake trout are not particularly good fish. Brook trout are possibly the best fish in the world, but the lake trout are larger, and coarser; we have seen them here weighing twenty-two pounds, but the average is nearer three pounds. In one pool at Rotorua, thousands of trout may be seen swimming around, and children feed them with bread crumbs.... Some of the grazing land in New Zealand, after it has been cleared, manured, and seeded to grass, becomes very valuable. It is worth as high as $400 an acre. Choice land is worth an equal amount in Australia, but in both Australia and New Zealand there is plenty of land that may be had for almost nothing; but it is worth no more than is charged for it.... It is generally believed that the original New Zealanders, the original Hawaiians, and the people living in the islands between, came from the same general stock. The language was evidently the same at one time, and has been corrupted into dialects. The native New Zealanders are exactly like our American Indians, in appearance; perhaps they are all of the same original stock. The people of Samoa look like the Hawaiians, the Mexicans and the Indians; and the people of the South Sea islands were such adventurous navigators that the Samoan group is also known as the Navigator Islands, and probably many centuries ago the islands extended much nearer to the mainland of North America than at present. The surface of the earth is constantly changing; where lofty mountain ranges once existed, are now vast level plains; our present tropics were once in the frigid zone, and many islands that once existed have disappeared. No doubt the original inhabitants of North America found their way there from the westward, by means which we cannot now clearly understand.... New Zealand was originally a very poor country; it had almost no animals, and its vegetation was scanty. All the sheep, cattle, horses, hogs, fowls, deer, etc., were brought here; when Captain Cook was killed in the Hawaiian islands, by natives, he had been distributing live-stock in the islands of the South Seas, to benefit the inhabitants. Trout are now plentiful in the clear and rapid streams of New Zealand, but they were brought here. Before the American Revolution there were plenty of hogs in Australia, New Zealand, and the South Sea islands. The natives traded hogs to the sailors for knives, nails, hatchets, etc., and these hogs had been introduced by white men, at great expense and trouble. The white man has always been trying to help his more backward dark-skinned brother.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 18.—Rotorua, with all its charms, becomes very tiresome after a few days. A second visit to the geyser fields is like seeing a play a second time, and we are impatient to move on. The first time you see fifteen-year-old girls, scantily dressed, diving for pennies, it is a startling sight, but in a little while you do not care for it. When two Maori women meet, they rub their foreheads together. That ceremony interested me for a time, but it does not now, and we leave here tomorrow.... When we first arrived, the manager said: “I will seat you in the dining-room with an American.” The man was exactly like an American, but he actually came from Vancouver, B. C. Canadians are more like Americans than any other people.... I have not seen such a thing as door or window screens in New Zealand. This is the middle of summer, and flies are numerous, but no attempt is made to keep them out. I dislike to pass a meat market, because I always encounter great swarms of flies. They have ice here, but do not use it much.... We visited a moving-picture theatre this afternoon, and it was exactly like the moving-picture shows at home; ridiculous plays of the melodrama order, made in America, and an orchestra consisting of a piano-player who plays with tremendous force. As we came away from the moving-picture show we passed the smallest hotel in town, and of course it was known as “The Palace.”... I have never seen such magnificent sweet pea blooms as I have seen here, and they are now at their best. Roses also seem to do particularly well here, and we visited a rose garden today which would have done credit to California. There was an acre or more of roses, and all the varieties seemed to be different. The garden is owned by the government, which does all sorts of things over here, and is cared for by convicts.... We have had no mail from home in five weeks. The people at the American naval station at Pago Pago, Samoa, receive mail only once a month, and say they do not mind it; that mail every day is a daily worry, whereas if you receive mail but once a month your worries are greatly reduced. You are always expecting important mail which never arrives, and a daily mail, they say, is really a nuisance.... One of the baths here is known as a Spout bath. You go down into a cave, and water falls on you from six feet above. The water comes from one of the boiling springs, cooled to an endurable temperature by the addition of a stream from a cold lake. Water is conducted from the lakes in trenches to the baths. The water in the Spout bath has a good deal of oil in it, and is said to be particularly good for rheumatism. But the worst case of rheumatism I ever saw was in front of the Spout bathhouse. A native man was so crippled with it that he moved as slowly as a snail, and was a pitiful object.... There arrived at this hotel today a man and wife I had known on the “Sonoma.” He is a fine old gentleman who lives in a country town in Ohio, but he has at least one habit to which his wife seriously objects. They sat opposite us in the dining-room, and I noticed that the old gentleman parted his hair behind, in the old-fashioned way. And it seemed, also, that he used hair oil, for regularly three times a day I heard his wife mumbling a protest because of this hair-oil habit. And tonight at dinner the wife appeared alone, and was seated at our table, as the manager knew we were acquaintances. Presently the old gentleman appeared; he had been indulging in his favorite dissipation, hair oil, and his wife at once noticed it, and mumbled a protest. The old gentleman pays no attention to her; indeed, he does not pay much attention to anyone, as he is a very quiet man. On the “Sonoma” he was an early riser, as I was, and usually he barely spoke to me when I appeared. But I saw him quite animated one morning. He was seated on deck, looking out at the sea, and, soon after I sat down near him, he burst out into a tirade against the farmers with whom he did business as a country merchant thirty or forty years ago. He said that in the old day he bought wrapping-twine of farmers, and that almost invariably he found a stone in the middle of each ball. One conspicuous offender was an old Baptist deacon. On one occasion, when this man came into the store after sugar, the merchant placed in the scoop, with the sugar, a number of stones taken from balls of twine purchased of the deacon. The deacon watched the performance, but never said a word; he knew he was guilty, and calmly took his medicine.... I have witnessed many amateur performances, but the most amusing one I saw in Rotorua this evening. It was an entertainment given by native Maoris, and the women guides had been selling tickets several days. The accompaniments were played on an accordion, and twenty-five persons took part in some of the numbers. Twelve young girls sang, and among them I noticed a number of the fifteen-year-old divers who had jumped for my pennies yesterday at the bridge marking the entrance to the geyser field. Fourteen men gave a war dance, and about that number of women gave a “hooche-kooche.” The entire performance was of this character, and so poor that it was amusing. After appearing on the stage, the performers came down to seats in the audience, as amateurs do everywhere, and laughed and giggled. Every act was applauded, and every performer had an encore number. One of the men who appeared in the war dance must have been seventy years old; rather venerable, I thought, for an amateur. We stood it for an hour, because there was absolutely nothing else to do. The English pickle and jam manufacturers, and tradesmen of every kind, claim notable patrons, therefore I was not surprised to find this on the programme: “Patronized by Lord Kitchener, Madame Melba, and many other distinguished visitors.” The performance closed with the song, “God Save the King,” and a dance. The audience was small, and composed entirely of whites, but out in front of the hall were hundreds of Maoris lounging about.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 19.—I write this by the light of a tallow candle in a little hotel twenty-four miles from Rotorua. We came here today by a circuitous route, and saw many wonders on the way. The hotel at which I am a guest tonight exists to accommodate visitors to the Waiotapu valley geysers, and these I shall see tomorrow morning, and proceed to Wairakei, twenty-seven miles, by motor in the afternoon. The names here are something dreadful; one place we visited yesterday is called Whakarewarewa, but people refer to it familiarly as Whak.... We left Rotorua at 8:15 this morning, by stage. We had seats with the driver, which, in staging, is an honor equal to a seat at the captain’s table on a ship. We had a pleasant drive of three hours through mountains, passing Green and Blue lakes on the way. One lake is really green and the other is really blue, and both may be seen at the same time from a high place on the stage road. At Green lake we encountered a photographer, who, after taking our picture, accompanied us down to a buried town. While we were looking at these ruins, which occupied us possibly half an hour, the photographer developed and printed the picture, and took orders from certainly ten of the fourteen passengers.... In 1886 this section was visited by an earthquake. A tract of country nineteen miles long was affected, and 135 people, mostly natives, were killed. After taking a look at the town buried in 1886, we drove a mile, and embarked on a launch for a ride of eight miles. Then we walked over a mountain, and embarked on another launch for a ride of six miles across White lake. This lake is really a crater, and in spots the water is boiling hot. For some reason, the water is nearly as white as milk, and in the crumbling walls surrounding the lake are hundreds of smoking geysers. The place looks like a lake in purgatory, and the country surrounding it is as desolate and barren as can be imagined. On this ride we passed the site of the terraces, or mammoth hot springs, which were destroyed by the eruption twenty-six years ago. When we landed, we met another party, going the route we had come, and, as soon as we disembarked, they went on board, and left us. We found an old guide waiting for us, and started on a walk of three miles through a lava-bed. We were always in sight of smoking springs and geysers. At one place we were compelled to ford a considerable stream, and the guide carried the women across.... The guide was much the smartest man of his profession we have seen. Just how accurate his information is, I do not know. He says that most of the great processes in geology are carried on by internal fires in the earth, and that what we see on the surface here is constantly going on, on a very much larger scale, deeper down. The water from every cool, limpid spring is sent to the surface by the same forces that cause the mud lakes to bubble and growl; the water of every cold spring was originally steam, and the water was cleaned of impurities on its long journey to the surface.... The geyser field of New Zealand is more than a hundred miles long, and during our journey of twenty-four miles today we were rarely out of sight of smoking springs. But the most curious thing we have seen is the White lake, which occupies a crater caused by the earthquake of 1886. The lake has no outlet, and, until a few years ago, was a mud geyser. Then it began to fill with hot water from below. In spots the water is only warm at the surface, but in many places it is boiling.... The end of our three-mile walk was a government rest-house. Here we found a carriage awaiting us, and we drove seven miles to the hotel where we are spending the night. A storm was threatening when we arrived at the rest-house, and we were anxious to hurry on, but the English people with us insisted on having their afternoon tea, and we were forced to wait for them.... Part of the country over which we traveled today looked like the lake district of Scotland; the first lake on which we traveled reminded me of Loch Katrine, and the stage road to it was something like the Trossachs. But after we reached the lake where the water is white, and occupying a crater smoking all around the edges, we saw something we had never seen the like of before.... Wild blackberries are a pest in this section. We saw hundreds of acres of wild blackberry bushes during our drive today, the berries just ripening. The best way to get rid of the bushes, the driver said, was to put goats among them.... This lava district was formerly considered worthless. Some years ago a man leased fifteen thousand acres of it from the government, at a rental of £29 per year, or $145. He burned off the bush, sowed a lot of clover seed, and is now getting rich from sheep.... When I arrived at this hotel I was very dirty and dusty, from riding on two stages on dusty roads. So I asked the proprietor for a bath. He gave me a towel, and called a boy, who led me to a creek two hundred yards down the hill. The water was warm, and, after warning me not to go above or below into very hot water, the boy left me to enjoy my swim.... On a ship, an American is always interested in seeing the English passengers going to their morning baths. They are seen in all the halls and on all the decks, barefooted, and wearing pajamas. But early this morning, at the Grand Hotel in Rotorua, I saw a still more unusual sight. An Englishman came out of the hotel at 7:30 wearing slippers on bare feet, and dressed only in pajamas. I supposed he was going to one of the hotel bathrooms, but instead of that, he walked out on the streets of Rotorua, and calmly proceeded to one of the big bath-houses three or four blocks away. He was dressed exactly as I represent him; bareheaded, and smoking a pipe.... While taking an early walk this morning, I encountered the courthouse in Rotorua. Here are some of the signs on the office doors: “Stipendiary Magistrate;” “Registrar of Old Age Pensions;” “Vaccination Inspector;” “Registrar of Deaths, Births and Marriages.” The office hours of the different officials were: Saturdays, 10 A. M. to noon; week days, 10 A. M. to 1 P. M., 2 P. M. to 4 P. M. Counting holidays, that is an average of about four hours a day for New Zealand officials.... At the moving-picture shows here the best seats are 36 cents, and a seat on a bench in the extreme rear of the hall costs 12 cents.... In a Rotorua paper I picked up last night, I saw a statement that a man had been fined $125 “for sly grog-selling.” That is what we call “bootlegging.”

MONDAY, JANUARY 20.—I awoke this morning at 5 o’clock, and found the sun coming up. You have perhaps noted that the sun is not up at 5 A. M. on the 20th of January in our part of the world. While the days are very warm here, the nights are quite cool; at 5 A. M. I was quite cold in bed, and awoke to look for more covering.... I read myself to sleep last night, very comfortably, by the light of a tallow candle. Electric lights do not seem to be absolutely necessary to the comfort of mankind.... In riding over the mountains here, I find great tracts of flourishing pine trees which have been planted by the government. Convicts did the work. By this means, the barren mountains are being changed into a living green.... Late last night, a man somewhere about the hotel engaged in singing; alcoholic singing, I judged. The vulgar rich are generously abused, but I have noticed that the higher priced the hotel, the more polite the guests are.... But while this little hotel in the mountains of New Zealand is somewhat primitive, I prefer it to the best steamship that ever existed. For breakfast this morning we had soft-boiled eggs, toast and coffee, with mutton chops and bacon offered. That is enough for anyone. But on a ship you are offered a hundred things you do not want, by professional waiters who are wondering how much of a gratuity they can coax out of you. The breakfast this morning was served by a girl who, barring her pronunciation, seemed real nice. She expects no tip; she expects her pay from the proprietor, whom I have heard her refer to as Mr. Hickey. And while my room is small, I at least haven’t two snoring gentlemen in with me.... A young gentleman who ate breakfast with me has charge of the local postoffice, and says there are several big sheep ranches in the vicinity, from which he gets a good deal of mail. The sheep here are well bred, and not at all like the range sheep of the United States.... While writing in my room last night I felt a shock, and thought some object had fallen about the hotel. This morning I learned it was an earthquake; we had three shocks during the night. Near this place is a place called Earthquake Flat. In passing it the stage-drivers rest their teams a few minutes, and give the passengers a chance to experience an earthquake shock. Ten minutes never goes by at that point without one. At Rotorua, one night we were there, sixty earthquake shocks were noted from 6 P. M. to 6 A. M.... This morning, in walking through the Waiotapu geyser field, we had a satisfactory guide; a native Maori. He didn’t say much, and, if we wanted to know about anything, asked him about it. Yesterday we had a guide who talked incessantly, and he was a bore. He was an Englishman, and we were glad to get rid of him. Adelaide refused to go out to the geyser field this morning; she is tired seeing them, as they are all much alike.... At 1 P. M. today we left Waiotapu for Wairakei, in a seven-passenger Napier automobile. The distance is twenty-seven miles, over a mountain road, and we ran it in two hours, with the usual rests for tea. The roads were good, and the ride enjoyable. The Napier is an English six-cylinder car, and the driver was very capable and agreeable.... Arriving at the hotel at Wairakei, we found the most gallant man in the world. He runs a hotel consisting of a number of detached buildings. In the main one he has _two_ toilet-rooms for women, with modern plumbing, but the men are compelled to content themselves with a toilet-room of the country-hotel pattern, located out in the yard, near the stables, and it is very filthy, and filled with big blue flies. Another law I suggest is, that no man be allowed to conduct a hotel until he is able to provide proper toilet facilities. The hotel at Wairakei is located near a geyser field. Another difference between Yellowstone Park and the New Zealand geyser country is that in the Yellowstone you find modern hotels; that at the Norris geyser basin is a palace. Here, after leaving Rotorua, we found the hotels primitive, and not very comfortable.... There are many deer in New Zealand; also wild cattle, wild pigs, California quail, pheasants, etc. Several times I have seen California quail along the country roads.... A remarkable thing we saw yesterday was a mud volcano; a small mountain, in the center of which was a boiling mud spring. The spring is constantly throwing out mud, and thus the mountain grows steadily in height.... To be a Maori, is to be a pensioner. The natives employ smart lawyers to bring all sorts of claims against the government, and these win often enough to be profitable. The lands the natives own are uncultivated, and the natives are a drawback to the country. All of which is very much American Indian.... Over here the government does everything, including selling tickets to tourists. The government owns the town of Rotorua, and brings it water and light from waterfalls in the neighboring mountains.... If you are a bad sleeper, do not travel. I was awake at 4 o’clock this morning, and there was not the slightest noise about the hotel from that hour until 7:15, when I heard an alarm clock go off. You don’t know what it is to be really lonesome unless you have spent a sleepless night in a strange hotel in a strange country.... A man came in this evening from Lake Taupo, with a big catch of trout. Some of the fish were very thin in flesh; so thin that they were worthless. It is said fish are so plentiful in the lake that there is not enough for them to eat. Most of the fish weighed from six to seven pounds.... We hear of geysers that shoot steam and hot water fifteen hundred feet in the air, but we have seen no geyser here more than thirty feet high. The big sights are always just over when I come along.... At this hotel, when you wish to take a bath, you go out to the manager’s office, and find a key hanging beside the door. This key opens a door down in the canyon, back of the hotel. The bath consists of a great pool of hot water. There is no roof over the pool, but it is fenced in. Within the enclosure, also, is a pool of cold water, into which you may plunge after a hot bath. Certain hours are devoted to gentlemen, and certain hours to ladies.... Rooms in this hotel are also lighted with candles, and I dislike to blow out my candle and go to bed, as I can smell the extinguished wick half the night.... The food in New Zealand is universally good; we have come to the conclusion that the New Zealanders are famous cooks.... We find a good many private cars touring in this section, as the government devotes much attention to roads, which are generally excellent, barring the terrible dust. Yesterday we met a little Ford machine, and it seemed to be kicking up about as much dust as any of them.... The rainfall here is greater than in the best agricultural sections of the United States, but the bulk of the rain falls in winter, whereas our moisture is better distributed over the growing season.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 21.—We have made three trips today, looking at the wonders in the Wairakei field; we have devoted at least nine hours to sightseeing, which is not a bad day’s work. One of the wonders is the Blow Hole; a great hole on top of a mountain out of which steam pours constantly, and with a great noise. This is called the safety-valve of New Zealand. Surrounding it we found a number of empty four-gallon oil tins; cans in which old Rockefeller had shipped gasoline to this country. The driver of our carriage threw these cans into the blow-hole, and the steam shot them out again. The noise reminded me of steam being blown out of a locomotive boiler, in preparation for washing it. There are no hot springs or geysers within four or five miles of the Blow Hole; it is a solitary attraction, and the steam ascending from it may be seen many miles.... Although the big terraces were covered up by the earthquake of 1886, we have seen two or three small and imperfect ones. As you walk through the Wairakei valley you notice that the earth is red, and green, and yellow, and white, and blue in places. The guide gave me a card on which he had made many colors with mud; it reminded me of a painter’s color-card. All this is like the Yellowstone, and everything here is much like the geyser fields in our greatest national park, but it seems to me that the Yellowstone is much superior, in every way. Facilities for getting about are much the same, and prices about the same, but the hotel accommodations in the Yellowstone are undoubtedly better.... At one place in Wairakei valley, steam pours out of a number of small holes in the earth. Bottles are placed beside the steam holes in such a way that an incessant whistling is kept up, in half a dozen different keys. At another place, what sounds like cannonading may be heard deep in the earth; in another, at the bottom of a lake, you may hear what sounds like a blacksmith hammering on an anvil. As you walk along, the earth sounds hollow to the tread, and every little while there is a cave-in, and a new hot spring or geyser appears.... I have spoken several times, in a good-natured way, of the difference in American and English pronunciation. A change may not be expected; indeed, I think the difference is becoming greater all the time, since the English children have a worse pronunciation than their parents. We have been traveling several days with a father and mother and two young daughters. The father and mother pronounce their words almost as we do, but both the daughters have a brogue that is the most pronounced I have heard. I hope I have written good-naturedly of the differences in pronunciation, for I like the people I meet. Most of the travelers are New Zealanders or Australians, but I can’t tell them from the English, except that the New Zealanders and Australians frequently criticise the English to me. They say, for one thing, that young Englishmen who have nothing to do, come over here, and set a bad example; that here, young people are expected to work, and are not much respected unless they do. Many New Zealanders have told me that they have too many holidays; too many amusements.... I hear exactly the same talk here of high taxes and public extravagance that I hear at home, and I am told that politicians are about as mischievous, active and troublesome in New Zealand as elsewhere. At home, we hear a great deal about the value of the single-tax system. New Zealand has that system, and today I heard a Wellington lawyer criticising it very severely. It is a single tax in theory only, since New Zealand has about as many different forms of taxation as any other country. New Zealand has tried more experiments than we have, but gets no better results from its laws than we get. It is attacking the trusts, just as we are doing, and the trusts continue to flourish; there are some things you can’t do by law, and New Zealand can’t accomplish the impossible any more than we can. I hear that compulsory arbitration worked for a time, as I hear that a week, or month, or year, before I came, the geysers shot three hundred feet in the air; but it is positively known that the country now has as many and as ridiculous strikes as any other, and the best geysers have done only twenty or thirty feet in my presence. The New Zealand railroads are primitive compared with ours, and their rates higher; yet they have government ownership, which many Americans say would solve the railroad problem. New Zealanders do not say their methods are better than ours; on the contrary, they regard the United States with a great deal of respect, and know that we are far in the lead. New Zealanders have the same respect for the United States that you find in Kansas City for Chicago; we are the Big Boy in the family of nations, and nobody seriously disputes it. Some foreigners make fun of us, because they are envious, but the New Zealanders do not.... Men are about the same everywhere: the native who today drove me to see a wonderful rapids in a river, said he knew the best fishing-hole in the entire stream, and wanted me to remain over tomorrow, and go fishing with him. But I do not intend to do it; I have no confidence in tips—particularly fishing tips. The same native, in showing us the rapids, pointed out several deep caves along the rough path we were compelled to climb, in getting the best view of the rapids.

“Maybe dead man in there,” he said, pointing to the deepest of the caves. “Stay tomorrow, and we’ll look.”

But I could not be persuaded by this tempting offer, and leave tomorrow for a trip that will keep me busy from 6 A. M. until 12 P. M. If anyone is finding fault because I am idle, I hope that day’s work will satisfy them.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 22.—Continuing our pleasure trip, we started at 6 o’clock this morning, and traveled almost continuously until midnight—by stage, boat, and railroad train. Our destination was Taumarunui, and when we arrived there at midnight, we left an order with the hotel clerk to be called at 5:30, to catch a boat on the celebrated Waunganui river for Pipiriki.... The first stage of our journey today was by coach to Lake Taupo, seven miles. On the way, we passed several waterfalls and geysers, but as we had been called at 5 o’clock, we were sleepy, and did not much enjoy them. At seven o’clock we were at Taupo, where we took a boat for a ride of twenty-six miles across the lake. There were only five passengers, and the pilot read most of the three hours, looking up from his book occasionally to see that the boat was going right. When we were out an hour, he asked all of us if we were going on by stage. We said we were, whereupon he produced a little cage containing a pigeon. Writing the figure “5” on a thin piece of paper, he fastened this to the bird’s leg by means of a light wire, and the bird was released. This is the means used every day to notify the stage people, eighteen miles away, how many passengers are coming. The bird has been in use two years, and never fails. If the boat has a big load of passengers, two or more stages are made ready, but the day we crossed, one was sufficient. In some islands, a regular carrier-pigeon post is maintained, the pilot told me.... We landed at a little Maori village at 10 A. M., and found a five-horse stage waiting for us, the carrier-pigeon having delivered the message entrusted to it. We picked up several passengers here, and when we started over the mountain, the top of which showed patches of snow, the coach carried fourteen, including the driver. We called at a house in the village and picked up a very fat Maori woman, two children, and two men. The woman said good-by to all the women and girl children in the house by rubbing her forehead against theirs, and considerable time was required for this ceremony. When we finally started, a light rain was falling, which continued until 7 P. M., when we reached the railroad. Three passengers had paid extra for seats with the driver, and all of them were soaked, while those of us on the inside were protected. During the stage ride from 10 A. M. to 7 P. M., we passed through a wild, mountainous country, and saw almost no houses. We stopped twice to change horses, and both times the passengers drank tea in a little hut warmed by a fire in one of the tin fireplaces so common here. The tea was boiled in the fireplaces by the hostlers of the stage company, and we gave them what we pleased. I drank tea four times today: at breakfast, at noon, in the afternoon, and at dinner at 7 o’clock.... Wherever there was a house, the people came out to see the stage go by. At two or three places we saw pigs of the Arkansas razor-back variety; there is no corn here, and pigs do not amount to much. The passengers were all New Zealanders, and they told us they knew we were from the United States as soon as they saw us. They said they could always tell English and Americans. And then we told them we knew they were New Zealanders, and not English, because we had heard them abusing the English. When you see a man who is exactly like an Englishman, but who abuses the English, you may know he is from New Zealand or Australia. A woman and her daughter who were passengers told us New Zealanders always admired Americans; particularly American women. All the passengers, except the Maoris, were making about the same trip we were making, and we had met several of them at different places, and become acquainted. In traveling, it is almost allowable to speak to anyone.... At 7 o’clock in the evening we reached the railroad at Waiora, and waited an hour and twenty minutes for a train to Taumarunui. This is the only night train operated in New Zealand, and connects its two most important cities: Wellington and Auckland.... It is a universal custom at hotels here, when a servant serves you, to say “Thank you.” A waiter will hand you a bill of fare, and you indicate that you will take soup, whereupon the waiter says “Thank you.” When the waiter brings the soup, you say “Thank you.” The people here are much politer to servants than Americans.... Ten minutes before midnight we landed at Taumarunui, which is a switch-engine town; I heard a switch-engine puffing in the yards nearly all night. A town that has a railroad switch-engine is a grade above the ordinary electric-light town.... Soon after we entered the train at Waiora, the conductor entered our car, and asked: “Anyone from Waiora?” Then those of us who had entered the train at that station, handed him our tickets. In America, railway conductors have a way of tagging passengers. I should think it would be easy here to steal a ride. Stations are not called, and there is no train porter, so when we arrived at Taumarunui we were compelled to hunt up the conductor and ask him if that was our station.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 23.—The Waunganui river is known as “the Rhine of New Zealand.” We journeyed down this river eleven hours today, and it was the big event of our stay in New Zealand. The Waunganui river is a series of rapids, and during the eleven hours of the journey we were always in a crooked mountain gorge. We saw no farm land, no settlements; nothing but wild mountain scenery, and a rapid, roaring river sometimes not more than forty feet wide. The boat in which we traveled was a very narrow one; not so wide as a street-car, but probably sixty feet long, and supplied with powerful engines. In going down some of the rapids the engines were stopped, and occasionally reversed. The government has spent a great deal of money in improving the river, and the only houses we saw were occupied by river workers. I have made a trip down the St. Lawrence, and I think we passed through one rapids, which was thought to be remarkable; but today we passed through hundreds. And the boats didn’t poke along; they ran like racehorses, and every minute missed great rocks by only a few feet. Probably no other river trip in the world is equal to this one. About 11 A. M. we changed to a boat of a little heavier draught, and about noon we stopped at a houseboat for lunch. This houseboat is a complete hotel, and many people stop there a day or two in the journey up or down—usually down, for very few people make the slow journey upstream. We had forty-six passengers, and this number packed the boat, it was so small. I am certain that every five minutes during the eleven-hour journey, we passed a waterfall. Some of the mountain scenery is really fine, and we were twisting and turning all the time. We knew seven or eight of the passengers, having met them at various places during the present trip. At 6 P. M. we reached Pipiriki, which consists of a fine hotel perched on top of a mountain. It has electric lights and modern conveniences, and is a joy after some of the hotels in the geyser district.... Although the Waunganui is called the Rhine of New Zealand, it is not at all like the Rhine of Germany. It is not so large, and the country through which it passes is very much more rugged. The Rhine is lined with old castles and towns, whereas in traveling down the Waunganui all day you do not see a single town, and only a few cheap houses occupied by river laborers.... The boat on which we were passengers had one very handy employee. He handled baggage, and also served tea in the afternoon. When we stopped for lunch at the houseboat he assisted in waiting on the tables, and when we reached the hotel at Pipiriki he helped wait on the tables. He also assisted with the ropes when the boat landed, which it did a few times, to throw mail out on the bank where there was no town, no houses, and no people in sight. It also delivered a little freight in the same way, and one passenger landed at a lonely place and disappeared in the bush.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 24.—We were aroused at 4:30 this morning, and departed at 5:30 to complete the journey down the river to the railroad and the sea. The lower portion of the Waunganui is as interesting as the upper; although we rode in a larger boat, there were as many rapids today as yesterday—the road was covered, but the pilot was compelled to follow it as closely as a chauffeur follows an automobile road. One rapids was so narrow and crooked that the only way to get through was to trust to luck, and bump through. The captain was the pilot in all the critical places, but at least three other men seemed to know the river, and took turns at the wheel. One of them was a Maori dude, with fancy clothes, and every native along the way waved at him. The pilot was also the engineer; the men down below had nothing to do but keep up steam. Beside the pilot was a throttle whereby he shut off steam, reversed, went half speed, or full speed; he did not ring bells for the guidance of an engineer below, but had complete control of the power himself. I never before saw a steamboat so rigged.... Two or three hours after leaving Pipiriki, we began to see evidences of civilization; including a cemetery. For several days we had been in the wilds where a cemetery was not seen. The river still ran through mountains, but we stopped frequently, and took on mail and passengers. At some places the boat ran its nose into the bank for a moment, a deck hand jumped to the shore and grabbed a mail sack hanging on a stick, and then we backed into the stream. At other places we stopped at villages, and took on wool, fruit, passengers, and sheep-dogs. A good sheep-dog is worth $50 in New Zealand. At some of these places passengers on the boat would call out to men ashore and ask them: “Got your wool out yet?” At one lonely place several native women came aboard, and they said good-by to dozens of women at the landing in the peculiar Maori way. When we pulled out we saw those on shore riding up the hills, on horseback, followed by a lot of dogs. There were many native passengers, and they occupied one section of the boat; whether this was a sort of “Jim Crow” arrangement, or whether the natives preferred being together, I do not know. At breakfast I did not see any of the natives at the tables.... We passed a boat coming up, and our captain called out to the pilot: “Water twenty-one, Jake; look out for Wintoni shoal.” We passed the boat on the left, instead of on the right, which is the custom with all traffic here. It was cold on the river early in the morning, and we hugged the smokestack, but by ten o’clock the weather was quite warm.... There were several very small men on board; race-riders. They seemed to have been making the tour of the geyser district, and I judged they were on their way to Wellington, where there will be racing next week. People living in the United States cannot realize how popular horse-racing is out here. Nor can they realize how popular the tea-drinking habit is. Every railroad train stops at frequent intervals, to afford the passengers opportunity to drink tea. At the hotels, when the maids bring us tea early in the morning, and we do not take it, you cannot imagine how astonished they look.... Another impressive thing in this country is the fact that all the people are very polite. I haven’t seen a rude person since arriving in New Zealand, and, in addition, they are all well-dressed and prosperous-looking. I have met one drunken man, but he was polite in spite of the load he carried.... On a boat a few days ago we met a bride and groom, and have been traveling with them since. They had with them every day a little newspaper, printed in a town of which I had never heard, and, as I saw them consulting it frequently, I knew it contained their wedding notice. I managed to get hold of the paper this morning, while they were at breakfast, and read the notice. It was the usual thing. A Miss Ruth Simpson played the wedding march; there were flower girls, a wedding breakfast, etc.; the bride was one of our most amiable young ladies, and the groom one of our most promising young business men; the bride threw her bouquet, and it was caught by one of her bridesmaids: I greatly enjoyed reading the wedding notice of our friends, whom we had come to know very well, and who were very nice. It’s the same old thing all the world over.... At 11 A. M. we passed out of the rapids, and the river became broader. At noon we came to Waunganui, a town of fourteen thousand. Here we took a train for Wellington. The train was packed, and I hate a crowd. The farming country between Waunganui and Wellington is probably as good as there is in New Zealand, which isn’t saying much. Every three or four miles we saw a field of oats or turnips. In between, we saw sheep in hilly pastures. There are more sheep here than I ever dreamed of; and I doubt if there is a black sheep in New Zealand: anyway, I haven’t seen one.... On the train was a father who could take care of a baby, but the mother was perfectly helpless with it.... The dining-car on the train is run by the government, and no doubt the waiters take civil-service examinations. When we reached the dining-car there was almost nothing left, owing to the crowd, but the waiter said he could get us a chop. Here, mutton chops are as common as bacon or ham in the United States.... At 7:20 P. M. we arrived in Wellington, after passing through a number of tunnels, and stopping at many seaside resorts. We went to the Grand Hotel, the best we have encountered since leaving San Francisco. Early tomorrow we shall call on Thos. Cook & Son, tourist agents, and see what they desire us to do next.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 25.—The first thing we do when we reach a strange town is to walk around and look at it, after being comfortably settled in a hotel. Later, we hire a messenger boy, as guide, and go riding. We like Wellington better than we liked Auckland, and we were in love with that town. The Grand Hotel is really excellent, yet the price is only $3.12 a day, which includes three regular meals, supper at 9 P. M., early morning tea, afternoon tea, and room. The house has a good elevator service, electric lights, and plenty of baths. My room looks out on the main street of Wellington, and has a little stone balcony in front. Across the street is the barroom of the Empire Hotel, with two lady bartenders. I amuse myself watching them. They are stylishly dressed, and it is funny to see them step up to the bar and ask a man what he will have.... We swing along the streets in comfortable fashion, and hope that drinking tea four times a day causes us to look Colonial, if not English, but when we step into a store and ask a price, the clerk replies, “Ten and six; that is, two dollars and sixty-two cents.” Which causes us to realize that our gait, our manner, our clothes and our talk are still plainly marked: “American.” We went into a dry-goods store this morning, and Adelaide bought a pair of gloves. The price was three and six (about half the price we would have paid at home), and I gave the clerk what I thought was the exact change. As I walked out, I was thinking the English system of money is easy to learn. When we were in the street, a girl came running after us with a shilling change.... Railroad trains run through one of the busiest streets of Wellington, and this morning we saw a train start for the races. It consisted of half a dozen passenger coaches, and twelve flat cars provided with board seats. One of the passenger cars was a sleeper. This is the capital of the country. Think of the government owning the railways in the United States, and, in Washington, D. C., compelling the people to ride on flat cars. I imagine that “Tax Payer,” and “Citizen,” to say nothing of “Old Soldier,” and “Vox Populi,” would write stinging letters to the newspapers.... There is a paper printed here called “Truth,” and I venture the opinion that it is the biggest liar in the Dominion. The last issue has a leader entitled “Christ—Cæsar—Napoleon.” Under such a title a writer might lie abominably.... In Australia, a Mr. Beeby was recently elected to the legislative assembly against the wishes of the labor unions. Mr. Beeby challenged the right of the labor unions to order his every political act, and become the keeper of his conscience. So he appealed to the people, and told the labor men to go to the devil. They made a tremendous fight against Mr. Beeby, and said he was trying to take bread out of the mouths of starving people, etc., although he was really a very fair and sensible friend of the working class. The result was a surprise; Mr. Beeby won, although by a small majority. The Wellington _Times_ of this morning, speaking of Mr. Beeby’s success, says:

“There is a good deal of hostility to the labor element, because of its disregard of the best traditions of constitutional government.”