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100 of the tourists at Manapouri talking about this road, and one had called it “positively dangerous,” which made us all anxious to see something so novel as a dangerously bad road in New Zealand. But our expectations were doomed to disappointment. It was certainly rather rutty, and there were one or two little stony creeks to cross, but the driver was the most abominably cautious whip I had ever seen, and we travelled as though the coach contained fragile mummies that were being reverently carried to their last resting place. He put on the brake long before the top of a rise was reached; he negotiated any small inequalities with almost painful tenderness; and he came to almost a full stop at the creeks. If Fate decrees that the gentleman has ever to drive in South Africa he will undoubtedly turn grey at the first donga, and rave aloud before the first spruit in flood!

In due time we reached Te Anau, and a frantic rush was made by the ladies inside, who were of course able to get out long before we could from our higher altitude, to catch the hostess’s ear lest we should be more favoured than they in regard to rooms. But Mrs Fraser, who is appointed by the Government to look after the comforts of its patrons contrived to please everybody, and before very long all grievances were forgotten in the discussion of a very welcome and appetising “tea.”