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would have saved us several days, as we would not have required to take the schooner up to the head of Crooked Arm, from which we found it so difficult to escape again. In Thompson’s Sound we had again to resort to towing, but the water here being perfectly salt, the craft was less sluggish than in the upper part of the Inlet, so that we made good progress and reached Dens’ Cove early in the afternoon.

During the fine weather which we had at this time, the barometer continued very low, remaining steadily at 29.50. When examining a swampy flat at the head of Dens’ Cove, besides the traces of kakapos, I believe I also saw those of the Moho, or Tuckahe of the natives, or the Notornis of naturalists, a large species of swamp hen that was coeval with the gigantic Moa, and of which only one specimen, shot in Dusky Bay, and procured by Mr. Mantle, has yet been seen by naturalists. A second specimen was however shot in this very swamp by a party of whalers, of whom Henry was one; and I heard from the Maoris that these birds are yet tolerably plentiful on the west side of the Te Anau Lake. It is not improbable, therefore, that if the tracks of any large birds have been seen by the diggers in the neighbourhood of the Wakatipu Lake, it has been this bird that has been mistaken for the Moa. It is about two feet in height, and has the largest foot of any bird in the country, so that its track, especially if in snow, would be sure to attract attention. When feeding, it is in the habit of cutting the grass into short lengths, and laying it in a heap, but does not chew it into a pellet after the manner of the kakapo.

The weather being favourable we sailed next morning for Milford Sound, which is distant forty miles to the north. After getting outside we had fair wind and clear sky, although there were a succession of snow storms on the mountains. Until nightfall we made but little progress, but by daybreak next morning we were off the entrance of Milford Sound. The scene was magnificent as the sun rose, and slowly lighted up the inequalities of coastward slope, and so threw back the mountains in their true proportions and full grandeur. At dawn they had looked rather insignificant, their sharp serrated crests seeming merely to form a summit of a dark wall rising close to the water’s edge. These mountains have a different aspect from those further to the south, for instead of solid cubical masses bounded by mural cliffs, they form groups of peaks joined by narrow ridges, and throw off sloping spurs towards the sea. The highest mountains almost overhang the Sound on either side—Pembroke Peak on the north having a rounded summit covered with perpetual snow, and the Llawrenny Peaks to the south being also snow-clad. It was 11 o’clock before we passed Fox Point, which is the south headland, as at that time in fine weather the breeze commences to blow up the Sound from the seaward. We anchored for a short time in Anita Bay while I landed to examine the beach from which the Maoris procured the jade or greenstone for the manufacture of their ornaments and weapons. It is from among the shingle that this stone is obtained, occurring as rounded pebbles along with fragments of hornblende gneiss and felsone. Although I found plenty of these pebbles, I did not discover the source from whence they are derived, but a large felsone dyke crops out behind the beach, in contact with a green hornblendic rock and serpentine; and as the felsone near the sides of the dyke contain small green specks, which are of the nature of this mineral, it is probable that it has been formed along the line of junction as nodules and irregular masses. Proceeding up the Sound, three miles from the entrance, it becomes contracted to the width of half a mile, and its sides rise perpendicularly from the water’s edge, sometimes for 2,000 feet, and then slope at a high angle to the peaks that are covered with perpetual snow. The scenery is quite equal to the finest that can be enjoyed by the most difficult and toilsome journeys into the Alps of the interior, and the effect being greatly enhanced as well as the access made more easy by the incursion of the sea as it were into their alpine solitudes. The sea in fact now occupies a chasm that was in past ages ploughed by an immense glacier, and it is through the natural progress of events by which the mountain mass has been reduced in altitude that the ice stream has been replaced by the waters of the ocean. The evidence of this change may be seen at a glance. The lateral valleys join the main one at various elevations, but are all sharply cut off by the precipitous wall of the Sound, the erosion of which was no doubt continued by a great central glacier long after the subordinate and tributary glaciers had ceased to exist. The precipices exhibit the marks of ice action with great distinctness, and descend quite abruptly to a depth of 800 to 1,200 feet below the water level. Towards its head, the Sound becomes more expanded, and receives several large valleys that preserve the same character, but radiate in different directions into the highest ranges at the time that these valleys were filled with glaciers. A great “Ice Lake” must have existed in the upper and expanded portion of the Sound, from which the only outlet would be through the chasm which forms its lower part. Two hours sail brought us into a fresh water basin, where we anchored, and next day, as I intended to remain here sometime, a large tent was put up on shore and everything in the yacht was taken out and overhauled. The carpenter also commenced to build the dingy; the tim