Zealand Rhine,” leading one to expect castles and battlements, with deliciously sleepy villages now and then?
“The guide-books are too fond of drawing contrasts in that way,” he answered. “New Zealand has a beauty all her own, and comparisons are never more odious than when thus implied. The only castles on the Wanganui are Nature’s own, the stately rocks that stand out from among the trees and in the stream, but to-morrow you will see some villages which though not so “delicious” as those of the Rhine are, I am sure, a great deal more sleepy!”
We reached Pipiriki about five and were overjoyed to see quite a big hotel there,—which hotel, with a store, a cottage or two, and a few Maori whares comprised the entire place. It was a perfect evening, and but for those few bad hours in the early morning we had had very fair weather after all. And we had come ninety miles down a forest river, passing quite a thousand waterfalls, not counting the small cascades, but we had not heard the tui, New Zealand’s King of Song,—His Majesty had probably and very properly resented our invasion of his highway and retreated into the innermost recesses of the bush, for we neither saw nor heard him, though no better audience-hall than the river could have been found.
After dinner,—such a contrast to the muddled meal of the night before!—we roamed about the hills behind the house, and voted Pipiriki an ideal place for a holiday. With all the comforts of civilisation one could be absolutely out of the world there, spending one’s days in the forest or on the river, and returning to the hotel only at night. The only drawback, the inadequacy of the boats, would be removed, they told us, almost at once, as the new launches were ready even then. And as we proved next day, the service between Pipiriki and Wanganui the town, which is on the railway, is infinitely better than that of the higher launches, with bigger and more comfortable boats. Besides, this retreat can be reached by road both from Wanganui and Taupo.
The launch did not start until after we had breakfasted leisurely at a reasonable hour next morning, and we got into Wanganui town quite early in the afternoon.
This last stage was vastly different to the first. We had left the gorge and the dense bush behind us, and the river was now running through more open country, passing a good many Maori villages and some big farms and private residences. The Maori villages were very interesting. Nearly every one of them had a pretty little church, mostly Roman Catholic we were told, and at one of them there is a big R.C. orphanage for children of all nations, established by a sisterhood. The villages were all quaintly named after cities,—Athens, Rome, London, and Jerusalem, for instance, though besides the little church and smaller school each had only a handful of whares, and we saw no grown-up people though there were myriads of children, and dogs galore. Below each village there were canoes lying moored in the river, some of elaborate make and finish but generally long dug-outs.
