ing hostility
of all true Aucklanders. It is a point they are excessively touchy upon,
and as the city and its suburbs contains a population of more than
twenty thousand--increasing annually at an almost alarming rate--it were
as well for me to be particular. We take a stroll or two about the city
in company with a colonial friend, who obligingly acts as our cicerone.

The wharf is naturally the first point of interest to new-comers. It
stretches continuously out into the river from the lower end of Queen
Street, and is over a quarter of a mile in length. It is built of wood,
and has several side-piers or "tees," whereat ships discharge and take
in cargo. The scene is always a busy one; and in the evening the wharf
is a favourite promenade with citizens.

Out in the river, lying at anchor, is the good ship that brought us
here, and not far from her are a couple of others, one of which will
shortly sail for England. Puffing its way between these vessels is a
little white cock-boat of a steamer, that seems tolerably well crowded
with men, whose white sun-helmets and yellow silk coats give quite an
Indian air to the scene. These persons are probably business men coming
over in the ferry-boat from North Shore, where we can see some of their
villas from the wharf.

Lying alongside the wharf are one or two vessels of considerable
tonnage, loading or discharging cargo, while at their respective tees,
whereon are offices and goods-sheds, are several fine steamers of
moderate size. These ply in various directions, taking passengers
chiefly, but also goods. Some go and come between Auckland and
Grahamstown, or Coromandel, in the Hauraki Gulf; others go to Tauranga,
the Bay of Plenty, Napier, Wellington, and the South Island; one or two
go northward to Mahurangi, Whangarei, the Bay of Islands, Whangaroa, and
Mongonui.

The splendid and sumptuously fitted-up Pacific liners that call here
once a month, on their way between "Frisco," Hawaii, Fiji, and Sydney,
are none of them in the harbour at present; but there, at the extreme
end of the wharf, lies _The Hero_, the Sydney packet, and a magnificent
steam-ship is she. All the schooners, cutters, and craft of small
tonnage that fill up the scene, and crowd alongside the wharf and its
tees, are coasting or Island traders.

There is one from the Fijis with cotton, coffee, and fresh tropical
fruits; there is another from the Friendlies with copra and cocoa-nut
fibre, which she will