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6 soon we had installed ourselves on the big paddle-boat for the twenty minutes’ run across the harbour. We scurried fussily past two great cruisers, and numerous craft of all kinds from sailing-ships with towering masts to the red-funnelled steamers of the coastal service, into the open harbour where we set the yachts at anchor dancing as we churned the placid blue waters in our progress. On the other side we climbed on to the front seat of a waggonnette-cab, and after driving for about a quarter of an hour through pretty country roads, hawthorn-hedged and shaded by oaks and willows with occasional cabbage-palms or some other unfamiliar tree, and delightful gardens belonging to quaint wooden bungalows and cottages, we arrived at Lake Takapuna.

From the roof of the adjacent hotel we looked far out to sea, past the fields and gardens, beyond the beautiful harbour to the Great Barrier. Below us lay the lake, only a few hundred yards from the sea, in the midst of private gardens whose grounds run down to its shores. It seemed wonderful that this big sheet of fresh water, said to be unfathomable, should lie so close to the sea, but what was still more surprising is the fact that considering it is a favourite week-end resort of the public, well-to-do people should choose its shores for their residences. Imagine having strangers able to look into one’s gardens at will,—even the beauty of the lake in my grounds would not compensate me for that!

“Why, you are like a Boer!” laughed Colonel Deane when I said so. “I suppose you hate to see anyone else’s household smoke?”

“I should prefer their being too far off!” I acknowledged. “What a curious shape the lake has.”

“Yes, but I never can understand where the Maoris get the idea that Rangitoto came from Takapuna. They say, you know, that this lake filled up the space he left when transferred and promoted by an earthquake to the guardianship of the harbour,—they certainly did not come to that conclusion through the shape of the lake! And now we have just time to drive round Devonport and get over to Auckland again for luncheon.”

I thought Devonport a charming place. It has several extinct volcanoes, and two of them are utilised as forts overlooking the harbour, which they command. It is all green fields, gorgeously gay gardens, and shady roads, with the sea on three sides, and it is the headquarters of the numerous yachting clubs, so that on the shore there are yachts of every description and size, with others a little way out at anchor.

After luncheon we went to Onehunga, Auckland’s Western port. It took us nearly half an hour in an electric tram to get there, and we travelled right through the city and its suburbs. What an introduction that was to this land of wonders. All the hills, and there are many, are extinct volcanoes, and all the way out to Onehunga we were passing through what must once have been a most terrible scene of desolation. The entire surface of the ground is scoria, the low walls that surround the gardens and fields are built of it, and here and