“While at Ōtāwhao, the Mission station, we rode across to look at a mill which had been put up with the aid of the Government. The day was very hot, but a keen wind from the snow mountains cooled the air. Our path lay across a wide plain, and our eyes were gladdened on all sides by sights of peaceful industry. For miles we saw a great wheat field. The blade was just showing, of a vivid green, and all along the way, on either side, were wild peach trees in full blossom. Carts were driven to and from the mill by their native owners; the women sat under the trees sewing flour bags; fat, healthy children and babies swarmed around, presenting a floury appearance. In the two villages we passed, there were wooden churches, built by the people themselves. We little dreamed that in ten years the peaceful industry of the whole district would cease and the land become a desert through our unhappy war.””
