49 
splash into the backward flow of a spent 
wave or into the little rivulets sent down 
by a small creek, Ewer in view was our 
coal, the bold promontory of Seott’s Point, 
while gulls and terns and toreas and dot- 
terels. in endless little assemblages, with 
now and then a few godwits to add interest 
to the bird® life, escaved with difficulty from 
the flying car as it disturbed their peaceful 
operations in the sands of their far-away re- 
sort. A. mast interesting feature in the sand- 
hills skirting the beach was the great num- 
ber of ancient shell heaps that shone white 
and clear in the morning sun, many of them 
rising to a height of eight or ten feet, and 
curiously enough remaining uncovered by 
the drifting sand. They were perhaps most 
prominent towards the Ahipara end of the 
heach, some of them showing up almost like 
the end of a house painted white and 
observable for a mile or two before we 
reached them. There is probably no other 
heach line in New Zealand where such 
countless millions of shells, gathered to- 
gether in middens and piled-up heaps, can 
be seen. They are the tokens of great 
feasts of the Maoris in the days of ages 
past, long before the pakeha had reached 
New Zealand, days when the native popuv- 
lation of this far northland must have been 
very great. 
At Te Paki—the Most Northerly 
Siation in New Zealand. 
After a magnificent run of an hour and 
a-half the 60 miles of beach were traversed 
and Scott’s Point reached. Here the car 
was turned back, as we had over-run our 
distance by a few miles. We were met at 
the mouth of a sandy-bottomed creek by a 
messenger from Te Paki station, and con- 
ducted up the wide bed of the creek and 
over some serub-covered country to the 
homestead, where a most cordial welcome 
was given to us by the owner, Mr R. Keene, 
of Wellington, and the manager and his 
wife, Mr and Mrs West Hill. 
As our stay was to be limited, no time 
was lost in visiting the interesting spots of 
the district. Immediately after lunch, three 
horses were saddied. for Mr Keene, my son, 
