Manley Hopkins,
author of "Hawaii," Dr. T. M. Coan, of New York, Professor W.
Alexander, Daniel Smith, Esq., and other friends at Honolulu, for
assistance most kindly rendered.
ISABELLA L. BIRD.
LETTER I.
STEAMER NEVADA, NORTH PACIFIC, January 19.
A white, unwinking, scintillating sun blazed down upon Auckland, New
Zealand. Along the white glaring road from Onehunga, dusty trees
and calla lilies drooped with the heat. Dusty thickets sheltered
the cicada, whose triumphant din grated and rasped through the
palpitating atmosphere. In dusty enclosures, supposed to be
gardens, shrivelled geraniums scattered sparsely alone defied the
heat. Flags drooped in the stifling air. Men on the verge of
sunstroke plied their tasks mechanically, like automatons. Dogs,
with flabby and protruding tongues, hid themselves away under
archway shadows. The stones of the sidewalks and the brick of the
houses radiated a furnace heat. All nature was limp, dusty,
groaning, gasping. The day was the climax of a burning fortnight,
of heat, draught, and dust, of baked, cracked, dewless land, and
oily breezeless seas, of glaring days, passing through fierce fiery
sunsets into stifling nights.
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