good steamer glides swiftly along, and at break of day we are almost abreast of the approaches to Auckland, the commercial capital of the North, as Dunedin is of the South.
In the dim misty greyness of early morn we crept past the towering bulk of Rangitoto, the giant sentinel that guards Auckland harbour, and all hands hurried on deck to get the first glimpse of the far-famed panorama of beauty that lay stretched before us. This renowned harbour ranks in order and loveliness among the "most excellent of the earth." "See Naples and die," is an oft quoted saying. Rio has its worshippers. Peerless Sydney has her liege votaries, whose ardent homage naught can quench—and yet, in many respects, Auckland harbour has a beauty of its own, which in some measure exceeds that of any other spot of earth I have yet seen.
Its charm seems to me to lie in its wide diversity, the vastness of its extended embrace. Every charm of landscape blends together into one magnificent whole. Open sea, land-locked bay, deep firth, rocky islet, placid expanse of unruffled deep blue, cloud-capped mountain, wooded height, bosky dell, villa-crowned ridges, and terrace on terrace of massive buildings, all can be seen by a single roving glance from whatever coign of vantage the beholder may command. For league upon league the eye may run down the ever-varying configuration of a beautiful coast, the promontories reflected in the lapping waters of magnificent bays, till far out to seaward the Coromandel headlands lie
