450 
NEW ZEALAND 
recalled pleasant bygone days spent in the Glastonbury Kitchen at 
Oxford. It was strange in the quiet of the night to listen to the 
bubbling of sulphuretted hydrogen in mud volcanoes not a hundred 
yards away! 
To see Pohoto, one of the principal geysers, in full eruption is 
a sight well worth waiting for. The Government caretaker has 
a fairly accurate idea of the hour when the almost daily eruption 
may be expected, and to watch the uncanny fountain for half an 
hour or so while it is getting up steam is quite fascinating. The 
caldron, perhaps 20 feet across, holds crystal-clear hot water of a 
delicate pale blue tint always on the simmer. Every few minutes 
it boils up more fiercely; the successive bubblings-up increase in 
violence and amplitude ; every now and again the water rises higher 
than before, as the temper of the demon of the springs waxes worse 
and worse, till the watcher gets into a state of tension in which im¬ 
patience and fear struggle for the mastery. Several outbursts look 
promising, but prove illusory, but at last, with a mighty roar and 
with an alarming throbbing of the ground beneath one's feet, the 
boiling water rushes up into the air some 80 feet or so. The grand 
display may last half an hour, or it may be an hour, or even two. 
While the main fountain shoots up boiling water and steam, other 
subsidiary fountains round about are also active, but I observed that 
they did not keep time with Pohoto. 
That the phenomenon is due to the water coming in contact with 
rocks of a temperature above the boiling point, or else with super¬ 
heated steam, or both, is fairly certain, but it is most difficult to 
think out the details of the modus operandi . These geysers cover 
a large extent of country in the North Island; from time to time 
one or another ceases to work, perhaps to resume its activity after 
months or years of quietude. 
Once a tourist watching the geyser in a time of repose thought¬ 
lessly threw a stick into it; his retriever bounded forward. There 
was no time to stop him; he plunged into the nearly boiling water 
and met with a speedy death. 
I asked our Maori lady-guide whether accidents often occurred, 
but she assured me they did not. I expressed some surprise that 
with so many Maori children playing close around the springs none 
ever fell in and were boiled. “ Oh yes! of course they do; but 
native children don’t count. Never any tourists.” The Maori women, 
as is well known, unlike those of most other savage races, are not 
without attractions, but it is to be feared that they are somewhat 
hard-hearted towards their offspring. 
