among the rocks south of Jackson’s, and 60 or 80 ozs. in another corner, where a miner was wont to wash out a few pennyweights daily. Even in front of Arawata township the beach was once worked. Small seams of coal have been found in various directions, but not in sufficient quantity to warrant the hope that this is the situation of a substantial seam. Whether it will yet be discovered in payable quantity or not, there is no doubt that the geological formation favours the assumption that coal, which was found by Mr Docherty in the country behind Abbey Rocks, extends also thus far south. The sandstone is precisely similar to that with which the Brunner coal is allied, and the formation is found to be more extensive than was supposed by Dr Haast, who assumed that some of the surrounding hills, now known to be sandstone, were of granite. Still further along the road, there is a face of fine limestone—superior to the kinds commonly found on the coast. Its appearance asserts it to be so; but practical test by fire and water has also proved it to be exceptionally excellent. Boulders of conglomerate—mammoth plum-puddings—are occasional objects along the beach, and for ornamental flooring or such purposes nothing could be more suitable; but, like the coal, galena, lithographic stone, and marble, and many admirable things along this line of coast which might be converted into domestic luxuries, they must remain unutilised, until available means are forthcoming for their development.
One noticeable feature in connection with portions of this southern district is the existence of the merry bell-bird. The same writer to whom we have referred in our introductory chapter, when on a literary mission to Jackson’s Bay, thus speaks of the sweet chimes of those pleasing melodists:—“How these little bell-birds improve the shining hours as the morning sun sends forth a flood of light over the snow-white mountain tops, across the bright blue waters of the bay, and athwart the wooded hill-sides where they are hidden, and yet so loudly heard. Each morning comes upon them like a new creation, and they hail it joyfully—ringing out sweet sounds which, with the modulating echoes, fill the whole air with melody. Sun-worshippers they must be, they are so sensitive to his approach, and so ceaselessly and universally eager to accord him praise. Everywhere—and as if it would be for ever—bells, bells, bells! And chiming so together, and with the notes of other warblers, that all would seem to be set in concert. The tui, too, sounds some smaller bell notes, and fails to comprehend the solemnity of the situation when he whistles and chuckles, in his own queer way, in expression of his own enjoyment. One morning's experience of such music—to drop from the sublime—is an excellent antidote for the bane of boarding and lodging in even the best hotels on this West Coast. Give us—oh, give us—the bell-bird before the Brahmapootra and the Guinea-fowl, the duck and the goose, and all other living instruments of torture to be found in hotel back-yards—found in the early morning, full of crow, quack, and gabble, when they are least wanted. The comparison is odious. Yes; let us listen to the bell-bird, and listen respectfully, for though he abounds in Jackson’s Bay, and in several similar situations, he has, since New Zealand first saw civilisation, strangely disappeared from many parts, and may do so, in a few years, from many more.” A hundred years ago,
