VII 
NELSON 
231 
cable ascends from the bed of the ocean at Cable Bay, 
the other end coming to the surface close to Sydney. 
The roads now became steeper at every mile, and under 
the deep shadow of the cliffs above and of overhanging 
trees we came into almost gloom, then out again into 
the bright sunshine, where every leaf sparkled and the 
beautiful woods above and below us looked as if per- 
petual youth were in the green ferns and the creepers 
that weirdly coiled and twined round every stem. Far 
away below us we heard the rush of the river hurrying 
along, tripping over pebbles and leaping down rocks ; 
now and then we heard the pigeons coo, and in the 
distance the ringing note of the tui. Higher and higher 
we went, until from a spur 1600 feet, the highest peak 
on the Wangamoa Range, we looked over a vast 
panorama of blue mountain-tops and down the steep 
slopes of densely-wooded ranges. Then we gradually 
descended until the plain was reached, and to the right 
of our road the sun sank across eight miles of prosaic 
mud flat before we reached Nelson. It was half-past six, 
we had driven over eighty miles, and changed horses 
five times on the road, and I was fresher than when I 
started. 
I found that the longer I stayed in Nelson the less 
I felt inclined to leave it. The ever summer-like 
climate never seemed too hot nor too cold. They say 
that the thermometer seldom rises above 75 0 and in 
the winter seldom falls below 50°. Everything seems 
to thrive here ; unlike the rest of New Zealand, grapes 
grow out of doors. The town has a clean, neat look 
about it, and every cottage has its well-kept garden of 
vegetables and flowers. 
A lady and gentleman who had come the long coach 
journey through from Christchurch advised me most 
strongly not to go that way — they had, they said, 
