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The railway ran along the coast all the way to New Plymouth, whither we were bound with the desire to see stately Mount Egmont and to spend a quiet Sunday. And had anything more than the series of sea-and-land-scapes from the carriage windows been needed to shorten the journey Colonel Deane’s fund of stories about the war between the English and the Maoris, with all the thrilling incidents that happened on this coast, most generously supplied it.

Unfortunately Mount Egmont had retired behind a veil of cloud and we could only see a snowy peak against the sky and above the grey blanket that enveloped the rest of the mountain. But there was so much to look at that we scarcely noticed the absence of what would otherwise have been the most engrossing feature of the journey. Rh