upon the site of the old fishery of Amuri; there are no Europeans living there now, and the broken boats and deserted habitations told a melancholy tale of the decay of the whole fishery. Here we found two large boats hauled up belonging to natives who were on their way, by easy stages, from Motueka to Lyttelton to work on the roads; one old man, the chief, said he was going there to die in the country of his fathers, and indeed he did not look long for this world; his cheerfulness, however, was no whit diminished, and we passed a merry evening by our camping fires.

Next morning half-a-mile along wooded white limestone cliffs brought us to the pa of the Ngaitahu chief "Kaikoura," a man of portly presence and most powerful build; his bluff, handsome, and English countenance, and hearty welcome, were as unlike those of any native I had before seen, as was the breakfast of fried ducks' eggs which he set before us superior to anything I had ever tasted of native cookery. I questioned him on the subject of the inland communication with the Awatere and Wairan, and found that I had been right, the previous day in my surmises; he described a pass in the mountains to be reached by ascending the Tua-huka, and said that formerly he had often been there to catch kakapos (green night parrots) in a black birch wood above the Awatere pass. As I could here have obtained provisions, I was at first tempted to retrace my steps and attempt to find the pass; but he alone of all the natives knew it, and none of them could I engage to carry provisions or accompany me, so I determined on proceeding by the coast to Flaxbourne, and thence to ascend the valley of the Awatere, and penetrate far enough to establish the communication from northwards.

Our day's journey along the coast between Amuri and the Kaikouras peninsula was a rough one: we passed through two natural tunnels or caves in the headlands, one of which was about twenty yards long, and through which we had to crawl on hands and knees; the other, a noble archway crowned with bushes, would have furnished a good subject for the pencil; besides these underground ways we had also to climb over sundry necks, and along the sides of curiously worn and perforated rocks. I do not consider that there is either much difficulty or danger to the pedestrian on this coast road; but I mention these impediments more particularly, to shew the utter impossibility of ever driving stock or taking a horse coastwise to Canterbury, as these rocks could only be avoided by ascending precipitous wooded mountains that rise directly from them. The road from Kaikouras peninsula to Waipapa is of a similar nature.

On my arrival at Kaikouras peninsula I resolved to explore the valley leading inland from thence. I had noticed on my voyage to Port Victoria that it appeared to penetrate to the back of the snowy ranges, and the natives told me that formerly a path, though a difficult one, had existed from it to Re Awatere. I imagined that if I could penetrate in that direction by mounting the southern spurs of the Kaikouras, I might gain such a view and knowledge of the country as to enable me to judge of the most eligible route between the Wairau-ma and the Awatere. I devoted one day to this attempt, but discovered that the river to which I had trusted to take me to the head of the valley (its bed was the only road) issued from between two mighty walls of precipitous several thousand feet high, cleaving the very heart of the mountain, whose summit is here more than 8,000 feet above the sea. A more fearful chasm could not be found in Switzerland. Foiled by this unforeseen turn in the river's course, I attempted to force my way through tangled fern and bushes in the direction I wished to take, but upon gaining a point of view, I perceived that to cut a line would be the only mode of exploring here, and that in such travelling I would take weeks to reach the Awatere. I consequently wasted no more time or labour, but camping by the river, returned next morning to the fishery.

I had already to thank Messrs. Henderson, Staunton, Ley, &c., for their hospitality, and now I was further indebted to them for a lift in a whaleboat to Waipapa, which saved me some fifteen miles of bad beach walking. Waipapa, another deserted whaling station, is the most beautiful nook I had yet seen, embowered in gigantic karaka trees, its cottages stand on the seaside beneath a white cliff draped with foliage—as on all the seaward side of the Kaikouras the mountains rise abruptly from the coast and are well wooded; here there is even a considerable quantity of pine.

Dec. 16.—My Waipapa and Kaikoura friends again pushed out to sea, and pulling about five miles to the northward, landed Wilkinson and myself beyond the mouth of the Waiau-toa, a rapid and dangerous river which flows between the "Lookers-on" and the island Kaikouras, and here falls into the sea; it has also been variously named, as the Waipapa; the Big River, and the Clarence, which name appears the most euphonious and easily remembered. We accomplished the journey between it and Flaxbourne the same day, walking chiefly along heavy sand a distance of about twenty-seven miles with rough hills to the seaward; the country here for the greater part of the way on our landward side; we had been twelve days on our way from Port Cooper, and when I deducted delays and stoppages, we were convinced that we might easily have accomplished it in eight.

I remained a few days at the station, and then, as Wilkinson had strained his foot, I set forward with Mr. Lovegrove, who offered to accompany me upon the latter and more important portion of my journey. Nearly three years ago when I ascended some of the hills on the upper part of the Awatere valley, I had formed my opinion that outlet to the south, and must be sought by ascending its course, and when Captain Impey and Mr. M'Bae last year made the attempt in Waingae and Mr. M'Bae last year made it now appears failed merely from the obstacles presented to them by the inclemency of the weather. Often as I had been prevented by unforeseen circumstances from making the trial myself, it was with no small feeling of gratification that upon the 20th of December I found myself riding over the green downs at the foot of Haddon Hill on my way to Mr. Bedborough's station, where we were to leave our quadrupeds and to start fairly in search of an inland communication with the plains I had just been traversing in the south.

I left Mr. Bedborough's on the 21st December, but as the route over the run now in the occupation of Mr. Tinline is well known, I shall only remark that through the hills at its south-west extremity present no serious obstacle to the drover, they would form perhaps as tedious and difficult a portion of his journey as any he would be encounter in its entire course. I should recommend keeping a little distance from the Awatere till after passing a stream some three miles beyond the "Jordan." If we had been fixed our camping place for the first night; we should however have added several miles to our day's journey had I not deviated from the path over Mr. Tinline's run, to satisfy myself as to the kind of travelling on the opposite (west) bank of the Awatere: in this I should strongly recommend no future traveller to follow my example, unless he be tempted to explore a most curious gully or fissure which barred our way for some hours, and into which, having with much labour descended, we found it exceedingly difficult to make