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 and the busy motion of the quays in front. It is, indeed, a grand panorama, and well repays the climb.

There is a chorus of melodious larks making the air alive with song; and beneath our feet little daisies in rich profusion smile at us from the close-cropped turf. Great splashes of gold reflect back the sun rays with almost a blinding radiance from the hillsides around, where the gorse is bourgeoning forth its yellow glory; and the air!—so clear, so crisp, so exhilarating! No wonder the children have such ruddy cheeks, and the maidens such bright eyes and bonnie faces, in Wellington, the Empire city, as its citizens love to call it.