Through South Westland : A journey to the Haast and Mount Aspiring New Zealand . s, lying below the jagged peaks of theIVIinarets. Beyond, the great Franz Josef glacierwinds down from those homeless wastes of ice and ? Or ratlier heron {Herodiao ;) -. ranges from China throughMalay Arcliipclago to Australasia. 32 THEOUGH SOUTH WESTLAND. snow, where the Minarets and Mount Dela Becherear up lik3 islands from the white expanse ofthe Tasman and adjoining glaciers. From theirsummits one looks, on the one hand across theeastern plains, and on the other over this greenWestern land of s
Through South Westland : A journey to the Haast and Mount Aspiring New Zealand . s, lying below the jagged peaks of theIVIinarets. Beyond, the great Franz Josef glacierwinds down from those homeless wastes of ice and ? Or ratlier heron {Herodiao ;) -. ranges from China throughMalay Arcliipclago to Australasia. 32 THEOUGH SOUTH WESTLAND. snow, where the Minarets and Mount Dela Becherear up lik3 islands from the white expanse ofthe Tasman and adjoining glaciers. From theirsummits one looks, on the one hand across theeastern plains, and on the other over this greenWestern land of streams and forests, as Moseslooked from Pisgah. Verily it is a PromisedLand, but as yet the inheritance has not beenwholly entered upon. Mapourika is beautiful at all times in thatwonderful setting of forest and mountain, butwhen the sunset flush on the peaks above ismirrored in the mndless lake, and every tree andfern springs from its own double along the shore,I think it comes very near being Paradise. Wedecided we must see both, so Okarito and itscranes might come THK MINAKKTS: IltOM IHi: TASMAX (JLAClKi;. CHAPTER III. OKARITO. Watch the cloud and shadow saiUng oer the forests sombre breast ;MLsty capes and snovv-cHffs glunmer on the ranges to the the distant thunder rolling ; surely tis the making tide. Swinging all the blue Pacific on the harbours iron side Now the day grows grey and chill, but see on yonder wooded the clouds a ray of sunshine slips, and writes a word in gold. Anne Glenny Wilson. The very name liad an odd clia-rm about it—something suggestive and musical. I looked curi-ously at the line of weather-beaten little greyhouses straggling along a stretch of green abovethe beach—a grey beach of stones and shingle withhardly any sign of life, except a few children andone or two cows and horses straying about. What-ever its future, Okarito belongs to the past—to theday when busy mushroom-towns sprang up in thetrack of the gold-s
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