The Sun.
London, England, 1863-10-21 00:00:00

The War District in New Zealand.

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south of the town. The country looking south from Auck-
land to Waikato may be described as a plain bounded on
the west or right by a low range of bare hills dividing the
Manukau lagoon from the sea, and on the east or left by
very irregular hills, wooded, with patches of fern. The
plain is not to be considered as a flat valley. It undulates,
and has several extinct volcanic cones of small elevation
scattered about it. The whole extent may be about 30 miles
square, of which the lagoon of Manuk iu occupies some-
thing like 15 miles square on tho western side, and a belt
of 10 or 12 miles of forest skirts the Waikato, which is the
southern boundary of the plain and of the European terri-
tory. The main southern road heads the long navigable
creeks of the lagoon, leaving Onehunga a few miles on the
right, and passing through Otahuhu, Papakura, and
Drury, in a south-easterly direction, nearly to the great
bend of the Waikato. The river Waikato itself, rising in
the heart of the island, runs most of its course to the north-
west, in a line bearing directly on Auckland, but about 30
miles south-east of that town it bends abruptly at a right
angle, and flews some 25 miles S.W. till it reaches the
ocean. At the great right angle bend the little stream of
Maungatawhiri falls in on the east side, prolonging the
southern boundary of the European territory towards the
east. The country bordering the Waikato, and its branch, the
Waipa, is open country, containing fern, flax, toi-toi grass,
and scrub. Between the two main branches lies Ngarua-
wahia, the capital of Maoridow, 65 miles, as the crow flies,
from the capital of the colony. Maungatawhiri is therefore
nearly midway between the two capitals, and in direct line.
No " engineering difficulty," as it is called, intervenes in
the whole distance. The river passes through one abrupt
range of above a thousand feet high, but it is a very
narrow range, and there is not, iu the Nelson sense of the
words, a gorge even at this spot. Vegetation is the
great military obstacle, The forest (though under
General Cameron its impenetrability has ceased to be talked
of) is a great resource to a lightly equipped irregular foe,
Extending in an unbroken line along the southern frontier
of the settled district, and stretching on the eastern side
towards Auckland, it furnishes a cover under which the
scattered villages of the plain, if not the city itself, may be
menaced, and a mere handful of natives, under its screen,
have attached and inflicted loss on our brave and well
armed soldiers, and committed half-a-dozen cold- blooded
murders on peaceful settlers. The wooded hills on the east
of the Auckland plain were pointed to by the natives two
years ago as their stronghold in case of war. It must be un-
derstood then, that, at the time of the est 'lets of a fortnight
back near Auckland, General Cameron's front was advanced
beyond the European boundary, and beyond the forest.
Ho had nothing but open land—fern land, that is to say--
between him and the centre of the country; and no ob-
stacles except the want of roads, and a few inconsiderable
tributaries of the Waikato. We are not, aware what forti-
fications the banks of the Waikato may possess—whether
the large earthworks at Rangiriri have ever been completed
(\Vata-wata lies above the capital)—but the ground, gene-
rally, offers no important advantages against a resolute in-
vader; and if the new steamer proves equal to the naviga-
tion, as it is probable she will do, at least till summer dries
up the stream, supplies may be carried inland in spite of
the want of roads. General Cameron's real difficulty is the
defence of the town and villages he loaves behind. Ngarua-
wahia, the Maori capital, offers no reprisals, and a large,
weak, and wealthy frontier absorbs his force, and leaves
little for forward movements.

THE ALMS -HOUsE PUMP.—Titbull's Alms-
Houses are in the east of London, in a great
highway, in a poor, busy, and thronged neighbourhood. Old
iron and fried fish, cough drops and artificial flowers, boiled
pigs' feet and household furniture that looks as if it were
polished up with lip .salve, umbrellas full of vocal literature
and saucers full of Rhell-fish in a green juice which I hope
is natural to them when their health is good, garnish the
paved side-ways as you go to Titbull's. I take the ground
to have risen in those parts since Titbull's time, and you
drop into his domain by three stone steps. So did I first
drop into it, very nearly striking my brows against Titbull's
pump. which stands with its back to the thoroughfare just
inside the gate, and has a conceited air of reviewing Tit-
bull's pensioners. " And a worse one," said a virulent
old man with a pitcher, there isn't nowhere. A harder one
to work, nor a grudginer one to yield, there isn't nowhere 1"
This old man wore a long coat, such as we see Hogarth's
Chairmen represented with, and it was of that peculiar
green-pea huo without the green, which seems to come of
poverty. It had also that peculiar smell of cupboard
which seems to come of poverty.. " Tho pump is rusty, per"
haps,'' said I. "Not tt," said the old man, regarding it with
undiluted virulence in his watery eye. "It never were
fit to be termed a pump. That's what's the mattor with it."
" Whose fault is that ?" said I. The old man, who had a
working mouth which seemed to be trying to masticate his
anger and to find that it was too hard anal there was too
much of it, replied, " Them gentlemen." " What gentle-
men ?" " Maybe you're one of 'em ?" said the old man,
suspiciously. " The trustees ?" " I wouldn't trust 'em
myself," said the virulent old man. "If you mean the
gentlemen who administer this place, no, I am not one of
them ; nor have I ever so much as heard of them." " I
wish /never heard of them," gasped the old man : "at
my time of life—with the rheumatics—drawing water--
from that thing 1" Not to be deluded into calling it a
pump, the old man gave it another virulent look, took up
his pitcher, and carried it into a corner dwelling-house,
shutting the door after him—Charles Dickens's last Uncom-
mercial,