red-coated officers, two poor girls in poke bonnets, and as far as we could see one rank and file.
To me it was really a melancholy sight. Nobody seemed to take any notice of them. The row they made was simply exasperating. Yet they tootled away, and sang hoarsely their one tune (it never varied, at least during the four days we heard them), and perambulated the streets with a regularity which surely merited more recognition than it met with.
On Sunday they paraded past the churches, rather markedly as I thought, and seemed defiant in their blare and irreverent noise. It seemed out of harmony with the quiet Sabbath air of the place. The Presbyterian Church we attended was crammed. Every seat was uncomfortably full. The minister, a plain blunt Scot, with an unmistakable accent smacking of the Grampians, gave an eloquent extempore sermon on "The persistent influence of a good man," which was listened to with marked attention. The singing, to the accompaniment of a capital organ well played, was excellent, and most heartily joined in by the crowded congregation. The English and Roman churches seemed just as well attended as the Scotch. On the whole, my impression of Napier was that it is a well-ordered, self-respecting, thriving town; and the pleasant and profitable Sabbath we spent there was not the least enjoyable of the many delightful days we spent during our trip.
In the afternoon we wandered along the shingly beach under the overhanging cliffs, and watched
