big trout come swarming to the light, diving under the boat, knocking against the bow, and leaping and splashing. The spearman standing erect makes thrust after thrust, now transfixing his prey, now missing his aim, or it may be, before the night’s work is done, losing his footing and falling headlong into the lake, amid a roar of laughter from boat and shore. [Illustration: NORTH FIORD, LAKE TE-ANAU] The merest sketch of sports and amusements in New Zealand demands more space for the horse than I can afford to give. My countrymen are not, as is sometimes supposed, a nation of riders, any more than they are a nation of marksmen; but the proportion of men who can shoot and ride is far greater among them than in older countries. The horse is still a means of locomotion and a necessity of life everywhere outside the towns, while even among townsmen a respectable minority of riders can be found. How far the rapid increase of motors and cycles of all kinds is likely to displace the horse is a matter for speculation. At present, perhaps, the machine is more likely to interfere with the carriage-horse than the saddle-horse. Nor will I hazard an opinion as to the place that might be held by New Zealanders in a competition between riding nations. Australians, I fancy, consider their stockmen and steeplechase-riders superior to anything of the kind in our islands. And in a certain kind of riding--that through open bush after cattle, amongst standing and fallen timber--I can scarcely imagine any horsemen in the world surpassing the best Australian stock-riders. On the other hand, in a hilly country, and on wet, slippery ground, New Zealanders and New Zealand horses show cat-like qualities, which would puzzle Australians, whose experience has been gathered chiefly on dry plains and easy downs. Comparisons apart, the Dominion certainly rears clever riders and good horses. A meet of New Zealand harriers would not be despised even by Leicestershire fox-hunters. To begin with, the hare of the Antipodes, like so many other European animals there, has gained in size and strength, and therefore in pace. The horses, if rather lighter than English, have plenty of speed and staying-power, and their owners are a hard-riding lot. Gorse fences, though not, perhaps, so formidable as they look at first sight, afford stiff jumping. And if a spice of danger be desired, the riders who put their horses at them may always speculate upon the chances of encountering hidden wire. The legend that New Zealand horses jump wire almost as a matter of course has only a foundation of fact; some of them do, many of them do not. Nor are the somewhat wild stories of meets where unkempt horses with flowing manes and tails and coats never touched by brush or curry-comb, are bestridden by riders as untidy, to be taken for gospel now. Very few of those who follow the harriers in New Zealand at all resemble dog-fanciers bestriding mustangs. True,