254 
DUNEDIN 
CHAP. 
feet below. But darkness creeps on, the lamps are 
lighted, daylight shut out, and nothing more is seen 
until the train slackens pace as at 9 P.M. it comes 
into the noise and bustle of the terminus of Dunedin. 
From my window next morning, in the Grand 
Hotel, in the heart of the city, I looked down upon a 
busy thoroughfare. The substantial building of the 
Colonial Bank of New Zealand was opposite, built 
of white Oamaru stone. But neither this nor the 
view of Cargill’s monument, with its drinking fountains, 
the post office and telegraph station, nor the terminus 
of the cable-tram line, reconciled me to the rain, which 
came down in such hopeless torrents all day that we 
had to make the best of our time indoors. Next 
morning I left by the eight o’clock express for Lake 
Wakatipu, passing through the Taieri Plains and 
Waihola and Tuakitoto Lake to Balclutha, over the 
swift-running Clutha River, which drains all the central 
lake. 
Lumsden, 137 miles from Dunedin, is the junction 
with the Invercargill-Kingstown railway. Inland from 
here are the largest lakes in the South Island, Te Anau 
and Manapouri (sorrowing heart), which is, perhaps, the 
most beautiful of all. We did not reach Kingstown until 
eight o’clock. The train ran straight on to the jetty, 
and we transhipped ourselves and our luggage direct on 
to the steamer. It was blowing a gale. The night 
was as black as pitch and nothing to be seen, and 
the lights of Queenstown (our destination) at ten o’clock 
were very welcome. 
Next morning I went on board with my luggage, 
intending to stay for two or three days at the head of 
the lake at “ Paradise,” relying on my guide-book that 
Kinloch was the nearest starting-point. When, how- 
ever, the steamer stopped there for mails I found that 
