"Why, you must be a prophetess!" said he, still striving to lead her from such dark forebodings. "You have been over-excited. I would not ridicule your ideas for a moment, but, as we can hear and do nothing till we get to Rotorua, suppose we agree to put off the mention of terrible things which may never come to pass, and enjoy what time we have among these lovely terraces." "After all," she said, as a smile rippled over her expressive countenance, effacing for the moment every trace of depression, "perhaps it is the better way. Life is short at the best, and we need not cloud it more than we can help. We are now close to Tarawera, in some respects the most wonderful place of the whole collection. Isn't there a peculiar grandeur about it? The name means 'burnt cliffs.' Look at the rocky bluffs, shaded by those beautiful _pohutus_! That is Tarawera Mountain, with a crown of trees. And see, that is our path that leads to Rotomahana, by the south shore of the lake." "We have now," said Warwick, "about ten miles to travel before we reach Rotomahana. The path is well marked but steep, and a fair climb." The famous lake, when reached, was to Massinger somewhat disappointing. It owed nothing to mere extent or picturesque surroundings--a verdant-appearing sheet of water, with marshy shores, surrounded by treeless hills, covered with low-growing fern. But its marvels were strongly in evidence. Its title to distinction rests upon its high temperature and intense, incessant thermal activity. Boiling water on either shore issues from the soil. Pools of hot mud were frequent in the marshes; gas-bubbles in the open lake indicated a higher temperature near certain parts. There it was dangerous to bathe (according to Warwick), though at no great distance the water was merely lukewarm. Springs of various characters abounded, totally different from each other--alkaline, saline, arsenical, sulphurous. The feathered tribes of swimmers and waders, protected by the tribe until the appointed season, were in flocks innumerable, various of size, hue, and habit. The splendid _pukeha_ (_Porphyrio melanotus_), the graceful _torea_, or oyster-eater (_Hæmatopus picatus_), the beautiful white-necked "paradise" duck, with countless congeners, held high revel, after the manner of their kind. Here might one fancy that one of great Nature's laboratories had been arrested until its beneficent purpose was fulfilled; that, until the missing cycle of centuries had rolled by, some high and glorious development of the Almighty Hand had been delayed; that vain man had intruded upon the scene, with his accustomed assurance, before the creative scheme had been declared complete.