angles, the strata often exposed in ribs from top to bottom. Enormous slabs of slate lay about, and the colouring was a mixture of slatey-blue and red. We were obliged to ford several times—riding now this side now that of the river, and as we got higher we were surprised at the rich “feed” in the riverbed. We saw some of Mr. Macpherson’s cows up here—practically wild, the calves running with the mothers; and a young colt who will surely be a sure-footed beast, for it careered wildly over rocks and boulders where most horses would have broken a leg. From the mountains on both sides came many waterfalls, leaping from the very tops. Just ahead Mount Ansted showed a snowy shoulder, and behind the ranges on our left, but unseen, lay Lake Wakatipu and Mount Earnslaw. The valley up which we were travelling bore away to the right, and, as we went on, the mountains towered up in fantastic shapes and beetling precipices, and at their foot the river ran, a pale blue stream. The valley grew wilder the higher we got, filled with ancient morainic terraces, through which many streams and the river have cut their way. This must be very rich land, for the terraces were covered with beautiful grass slopes, and groups of fine trees scattered about gave a strangely park-like effect. Sometimes a long opening appeared between the trees, like some grass-grown carriage-drive that ought to lead to an ancient house, but of track or sign of man there was none. Here we left the horses.
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THROUGH SOUTH WESTLAND.
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