children." He was the type of many whose children will rise, as they could never have done at home.
We reached the river Mataura, in some respects unlike others we had crossed, shut in by high banks and, in places, outcrop of rock, deep, and running rapidly. In Maori tongue its name means "the reddish, eddying water." It looked decidedly bad to ford, nor did we attempt it, for falling in with an Australian, a Sheep Inspector, who was on his way to inspect some sheep imported from Australia, we took his advice and went down the bank of the river towards the sea to a settlement of Maoris, who might be able to ferry us over the river in canoes, towing our horses behind them. We spent a night with a hospitable settler, and early in the morning carried out this programme successfully. Then we set out, in beautiful weather, on what promised to be a delightful ride of considerable distance on the beach to the Bluff Settlement. But none of us had been that way before, and there was the unforeseen to reckon with, and, for once in a way, experienced as we thought ourselves as travellers, we had omitted one essential precaution,—we had neither food or water with us, nothing but a little brandy and a biscuit or two, as we thought to accomplish the journey in a few hours. On our left hand the surf of the Pacific invaded the beach, leaving just room to travel on fairly hard sand, which was fringed with rough grass and low shrubs. Behind them stretched for miles a lagoon, backed up by miles of forest, shutting out any view of the Mataura plains. All went well, our guide, the Inspector, a man full of anecdote, entertaining us with his experiences in Australia, until we were brought up short by a swirling rapid torrent,
