444 NEW ZEALAND chap. 



December igth. — In the evening we saw in the distance 

 New Zealand. We may now consider that we have nearly- 

 crossed the Pacific. It is necessary to sail over this great 

 ocean to comprehend its immensity. Moving quickly onwards 

 for weeks together, we meet with nothing but the same blue, 

 profoundly deep, ocean. Even within the archipelagoes, the 

 islands are mere specks, and far distant one from the other. 

 Accustomed to look at maps drawn on a small scale, where 

 dots, shading, and names are crowded together, we do not 

 rightly judge how infinitely small the proportion of dry land is 

 to the water of this vast expanse. The meridian of the 

 Antipodes has likewise been passed ; and now every league, it 

 made us happy to think, was one league nearer to England. 

 These Antipodes call to one's mind old recollections of childish 

 doubt and wonder. Only the other day I looked forward to 

 this airy barrier as a definite point in our voyage home- 

 wards ; but now I find it, and all such resting-places for 

 the imagination, are like shadows, which a man moving 

 onwards cannot catch. A gale of wind lasting for some days 

 has lately given us full leisure to measure the future stages 

 in our long homeward voyage, and to wish most earnestly for its 

 termination. 



December 2ist. — Early in the morning we entered the Bay 

 of Islands, and being becalmed for some hours near the mouth, 

 we did not reach the anchorage till the middle of the day. 

 The country is hilly, with a smooth outline, and is deeply 

 intersected by numerous arms of the sea extending from the 

 bay. The surface appears from a distance as if clothed with 

 coarse pasture, but this in truth is nothing but fern. On the 

 more distant hills, as well as in parts of the valleys, there is a 

 good deal of woodland. The general tint of the landscape is 

 not a bright green : and it resembles the country a short 

 distance to the south of Concepcion in Chile. In several parts 

 of the bay little villages of square tidy-looking houses are 

 scattered close down to the water's edge. Three whaling-ships 

 were lying at anchor, and a canoe every now and then crossed 

 from shore to shore ; with these exceptions, an air of extreme 

 quietness reigned over the whole district. Only a single canoe 

 came alongside. This, and the aspect of the whole scene, 



