ing to the level again, it soon reassumed its peaceful progress, and, like Narcissus, vain hybiscus flowers looked at their painted faces in the water below. A ponderous water-wheel slowly turned; water lilies, like child faces, nestled between moss-covered stones, and the willow trees hung their long green branches down to where the leaves were swept by the passing water.
Kauri trees and rata bloom, tall tree ferns and showers of clematis covered the slopes, and before me was a grove of fruit trees, where prevailing silence was broken only when an apple, tiring of its bough, fell to the grass below.
In the midst of all this, there was a house with shingle roof and a flower-covered porch in which a Persian cat idly dreamed. But there was a practical side to this beautiful place, and down by the stream there were hatcheries in which thousands of tiny rainbow trout were prepared for the pleasure of the angler. Pheasant runs (then almost empty) and a few quail represented another field of activity.
WHANGAREI FALLS
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