Through South Westland : A journey to the Haast and Mount Aspiring New Zealand . pinnacles of aged snow, Stood sunset-flushd : and dewd with showery drops, TJp-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse. Tennyson. Those who go to Ross do not usually visit it forpleasure—though I once knew a lady who spent aweek there, but I think it was because she couldnot go any farther. It is strictly a place thatminds its own business, which is gold-getting ; andthose who go there, go either directly or indirectlybecause of the gold. It is rather a fascinatingplace, reminding one a little of a French tow
Through South Westland : A journey to the Haast and Mount Aspiring New Zealand . pinnacles of aged snow, Stood sunset-flushd : and dewd with showery drops, TJp-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse. Tennyson. Those who go to Ross do not usually visit it forpleasure—though I once knew a lady who spent aweek there, but I think it was because she couldnot go any farther. It is strictly a place thatminds its own business, which is gold-getting ; andthose who go there, go either directly or indirectlybecause of the gold. It is rather a fascinatingplace, reminding one a little of a French town,with its houses perched about on reddish-colouredhiUs from wliich the bush has been cleared. Thereis no attempt at regularity, it straggles about,up and down the hiUs, and a very Uttle wayoutside, the bush closes in again and rolls away,range beyond range, hiU beyond hill, clothed aswith dark green fur. To seawards a yellow flatstretches to the sand-dunes. Gaunt, dead treesstand on the flat, and a ragged forest of white-pineborders it; there are pools and bogs surrounded. WATEES OF WESTLAND. 19 by waving marsh grasses, and a river wandersthrough undecidedly in many streams. Theytold us it is the richest alluvial gold deposit on thecoast, and were that plain drained and mined,gold lies in bands and pockets in fabulous was shoAvn a coloured section of its supposedriches, that made one wonder why everyone wasnot digging there ! Indeed, I imbibed the spiritof Ross—which is a chastened kind of gold fever—very quickly, and found myself continuallyscanning the ground, and peering into creeks, orpickmg up bits of brown stone they called Maoristone, and which tliey told us only occurred neargold. Might not some one of those streams containpotential chances of a fortune ? Indeed, manya one lias been made—and lost—here. In thosenow far-ofif days, when the gold rush was at itsheight, men penetrated far into the ranges—bythe creeks and rivers; camping sometimestogeth
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