'About two miles from this place, on the edge of a great swampy flat, I met with a number of boiling ponds; some of them of very large dimensions. We forded a river flowing swiftly toward the lake, which is fed by the snows melting in the valleys of the Tongariro. In many places, in the bed of this river, the water boils up from the subterranean springs below, suddenly changing the temperature of the stream, to the imminent risk of the individual who may be crossing. Along whole tracts of land I heard the water boiling violently beneath the crust over which I was treading. It is very dangerous travelling, for, if the crust should break, scalding to death must ensue. I am told that the Rotuma natives, who build their houses over the hot springs in that district, for the sake of constant warmth at night, frequently meet with accidents of this kind: it has happened that when a party has been dancing on the floor, the crust has given way, and the convivial assembly has been suddenly swallowed up in the boiling caldron beneath! Some of the ponds are ninety feet in circumference, filled with a transparent pale-blue boiling water, sending up columns of steam. Channels of boiling water run along the ground in every direction, and the surface of this calcareous flat around the margin of the boiling ponds covered with beautiful incrustations of lime and alum, in some parts forming flat saucer-like figures. Husk of maize, moss, and branches of vegetable substances were incrusted in the same manner. I also observed small deep holes, or wells, here and there among the grass and rushes, from two inches to as many feet in diameter, filled with boiling mud, that rises in large bubbles as thick as hasty pudding; these mud pits sent up a strong sulphureous smell. Although the ponds boiled violently, I noticed small flies walking swiftly, or rather running on their surface. The steam that rises from these boiling springs is visible for many miles, appearing like the jets of a number of steam engines.'--Vol. ii., pp. 113, 114, 115. FLY LEAVES FROM THE LIFE OF A SOLDIER. PART I.--SCALES. We were in the _three_-months. There! I feel as proud of that as one of the Old Guard would have been in saying: 'I was of the Army of Italy.'