214 
NAPIER 
CHAP. 
pebbly bed of the Mai-wa-Kaiho River, with its 
water-race, and endless ladder of wooden steps leading 
to it, which we did not descend. With our faces 
turned homewards, here and there through the green 
hills we caught glimpses of the homely-looking little 
town, and round a sunny corner a Maori cart was 
standing. What a subject for an artist ! The man 
with his brown face and great brawny arms, she 
with the sunlight all coming through her tangled, 
tawny-coloured hair, and her eastern-patterned dress, 
a wondrous mass of greens, yellows, and blues. 
A little child, in a bright crimson frock, on his hands 
and knees, was drinking at the stream, whilst all 
through the twisted stems of the interwoven foliage, 
the lichens and ferns were turned to gold as the sun 
went down. One more good-bye at the corner of the 
church, and I passed through the gate into the rest 
and quiet of the pretty parsonage garden. 
At eight next morning I was on my way again. 
We had had three of the hottest days that had been 
known for many years in New Plymouth. The thermo- 
meter stood at 93 0 in the shade, and it was unbearably 
warm in the train, and so dusty that we all looked 
as if we had been well peppered before we had 
gone a mile. Among the crowd of passengers who 
filled the one long carriage was the little German 
Professor, looking rather dilapidated from a week of 
camping out on Mount Egmont. As usual he turned 
the miscellaneous contents of his great brown bag out 
on to the floor, much to the amusement of the passengers, 
some of whom made “ rude remarks,” which in a 
muttering tone of voice he told me was “ ferry bat 
taste.” 
At Haweia we wished each other good-bye. As I 
left the carriage, the guard, an old soldier of the 43rd, 
