termination of a hill-range behind, rushes
out into the tranquil, gleaming water. Round the base of the bluff, on a
little flat between it and the white shingly beach, are the houses of
the settlement. Four families live here at this time; and besides their
abodes, there are a row of three cottages, called immigrant barracks, a
boatbuilder's workshop, and an assembly hall. The neatest, fairest,
best, and to-be-the-most-progressive of all the Kaipara townships. We
say this "as shouldn't;" but it is so.

The broad, lake-like expanse of water over which we are moving--four
miles across from shore to shore--parts before Te Pahi. It stretches
away to the left in a wide reach, to form the Matakohe, out of which
opens the Paparoa, hidden from sight at this point. Before us, bearing
to the right, is the Pahi river. It is a vista of woodland scenery,
glorious in the rays of the declining sun. Its shores are steep, and
broken into numberless little bays and promontories, all clothed with
bush to the water's edge. Far up, the towering ranges close down and
terminate the view.

On the left of our position the shore is not so high, and we can see a
good deal of grass, with the white homestead of a settler's station.
Beyond is what appears to be a chain of distant mountains. Looking to
the right an exclamation bursts from our lips, for there is the
loveliest view we have yet seen.

A deep, semi-circular bay falls back from the river, bordered with a
belt of dazzling shingle. Beyond and round it rises a perfect
amphitheatre, filled with bush more sumptuous and varied than any we
have gazed upon all day. The range seems to rise in terraces, and just
one abrupt gap about the centre discloses the peak of a conical hill
behind. The whole is a perfect idyllic picture, not to be described in a
breath; for this is the showplace of the Kaipara. It is Te Puke Tapu,
famous in Maori history as the scene of a great battle.

Beautiful as this place is, it would doubtless soon have been marred by
the pitiless axe and fire of the settler, but that it is sacred soil.
The Maoris will not enter it, and they prohibit Europeans from
transgressing within its boundaries. Nor will they sell the land,
although its superb fertility has induced some settlers to offer almost
fabulous prices. For, under those rich greenwoods, caressed and buried
in ferns, lie scattered the bony relics of the flower of Ngatewhatua
chivalry.

So much and more a fellow-passen