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 the horizon with field-glasses, from the terraces erstwhile occupied by cannibals. Here and there a heap of glistening white pipi shells marks the spot where the tattooed warriors, when "long pig" was scarce, regaled themselves on the shell-fish, laboriously carried up the mount, from the adjacent shores by the comely dark-skinned women, in the brief intervals of peace between the tribes.

The scene from Mount Eden is surely unique in its diverse beauty and grandeur. Here may be seen at one glance, the tide at its flow on the eastern shore—laving the rugged fringe of Rangitoto, the bold bluffs of the north shore, and the terraced sweep of the mainland—and lapping lazily the massive timbers of the wharves, where the big ships and steamers are busy discharging their multifarious cargo. On the western side the tide is at the same identical moment receding through the tortuous channels of Manukau harbour, leaving the broad mud flats, with their rocky environment, reeking and steaming—bare, black, and ugly—under the rays of the afternoon sun. The suburbs glow with beauty, as the light gleams on bright roofs, snug gardens, young plantations, and dark green masses of pine and cedar. The domain below, with its wild entanglement of natural bush, fern-trees and dark undergrowth, looks cosy, cool, and refreshing; everywhere is the glint of water, relieving the tumbled masses of scoriæ, the circling outlines of extinct volcanoes, and fortuitous jumble of buildings. The background is filled in by bold outlines of ragged peak