494 Transactions.— Botany. 



layer of humus (pukahu), composed of vegetable fibre inter- 

 mingled with fallen leaves, particles of gum, and scales from the 

 resinous bark, the latter helping to form a sohd bank, some- 

 times several feet in height, round the base of the trees. 

 This, from the nature of its composition, is of a most in- 

 flammable character, and once ignited will burn for weeks 

 together, smouldering underneath even when wetted on the 

 surface, and "piping up" with every drying breeze. Every 

 tree, of whatever sort, reached by the fire is killed. The tufts 

 of the toe-kiwi — the "cutting-grass" of the bushmen — which 

 are a feature of the kauri bush, are set in a blaze ; and, as the 

 flames flare up the loose bark of the ratas and the trunks of 

 the more gummy specimens of the kauri, the masses of pu- 

 wharawhara (Asteliads) which encumber the branches are 

 ignited, and fall in fiery showers to form fresh centres of com- 

 bustion. The open character of the kauri bush, moreover, 

 and the comparative absence of the succulent growth before 

 mentioned as a general characteristic of the New Zealand 

 forest, both tend to facilitate the progress of the fire, which, 

 when once properly started, will continue to burn until 

 thoroughly drenched by the heavy autumnal rains, the most 

 laborious efforts at extinction generally proving unavailing. 



No description, however verbally accurate, will convey an 

 idea of the scene of desolation presented by a kauri bush 

 after the fire has gone through it. The ground is covered 

 with a deep bed of ashes strewn with fallen branches and 

 with the wreck of the smaller trees. Here and there a giant 

 rata, its buttressed roots burnt through, has crashed down 

 through everything, and lies with broken limbs and a smoky 

 cavern in its hollowing trunk. The stately totaras, whose 

 fibrous bark conducted the flames to the tops, when for a 

 moment they became as so many blazing torches, now stand 

 grim and black. The waving tufts of the toe-kiwi are repre- 

 sented by a coil of snake-like roots. The fern-tree's feathery 

 fronds and the glossy curving spikes of the neinei hang 

 shrivelled and limp, while the netted ropes of the mange- 

 mange are gone altogether — vanished in a puff of flame. All 

 the ferns and mosses, the orchids and climbing plants, all the 

 light and graceful undergrowth indigenous to the kauri bush, 

 which made the place a fairy paradise, are charred and dead. 

 The kauris alone seem to have escaped the general fate. 

 With the exception of the more gummy specimens, and those 

 which were exposed to the hottest part of the fire, they srtill 

 stand proudly erect, the bark retaining its peculiar silvery 

 sheen, and the head its noble crown of leaves. But this 

 hopeful appearance is only deceptive. The slightest scorch- 

 ing about the root is sufficient to kill a kauri-tree, and though 

 the leaves may remain green for months, as they frequently 



