STATION LIFE IN NEW ZEALAND

By Lady Barker.

1883

Preface.

These letters, their writer is aware, justlyincur the reproach of egotism andtriviality; at the same time she did notsee how this was to be avoided,without lessening their value as theexact account of a lady's experience ofthe brighter and less practical side ofcolonization. They are published as no

guide or handbook for "the intendingemigrant;" that person has already aliterature to himself, and will scarcelyfind here so much as a single statistic.They simply record the expeditions,adventures, and emergenciesdiversifying the daily life of the wife ofa New Zealand sheep-farmer; and, aseach was written while the novelty andexcitement of the scenes it describeswere fresh upon her, they may succeedin giving here in England an adequateimpression of the delight and freedomof an existence so far removed fromour own highly-wrought civilization:not failing in this, the writer will gladlybear the burden of any critical rebukethe letters deserve. One thing she hopes

will plainly appear, that, however hard itwas to part, by the width of the wholeearth, from dear friends and spotsscarcely less dear, yet she soon found inthat new country new friends and anew home; costing her in their turnalmost as many parting regrets as theold.

F. N. B.

Letter I: Two months at sea Melbourne.

Port Phillip Hotel, Melbourne.September 22d, 1865. .... Now I mustgive you an account of our voyage: it

has been a very quick one for theimmense distance traversed, sometimesunder canvas, but generally steaming.We saw no land between the Lizard andCape Otway light that is, for fifty-sevendays: and oh, the monotony of thattime! the monotony of it! Our deckswere so crowded that we divided ourwalking hours, in order that each set ofpassengers might have space to moveabout; for if every one had taken it intotheir heads to exercise themselves at thesame time, we could hardly haveexceeded the fisherman's definition ofa walk, "two steps and overboard." I amashamed to say I was more or less ill allthe way, but, fortunately, F was not, andI rejoiced at this from the most selfish

motives, as he was able to take care ofme. I find that sea-sickness developsthe worst part of one's character withstartling rapidity, and, as far as I amconcerned, I look back with self-abasement upon my callousindifference to the sufferings of others,and apathetic absorption in myindividual misery.

Until we had fairly embarked, the well-meaning but ignorant among ourfriends constantly assured us, with anair of conviction as to the truth andwisdom of their words, that we weregoing at the very best season of theyear; but as soon as we could gather theopinions of those in authority on

board, it gradually leaked out that wereally had fallen upon quite a wrongtime for such a voyage, for we verysoon found ourselves in the tropicsduring their hottest month (early inAugust), and after having been nearlyroasted for three weeks, we plungedabruptly into mid-winter, or at allevents very early spring, off the Capeof Good Hope, and went through aseason of bitterly cold weather, withthree heavy gales. I pitied the poorsailors from the bottom of my heart, attheir work all night on decks slipperywith ice, and pulling at ropes so frozenthat it was almost impossible to bendthem; but, thank God, there were nocasualties among the men. The last gale

was the most severe; they said it was thetail of a cyclone. One is apt on land toregard such phrases as the "shriek ofthe storm," or "the roar of the waves,"as poetical hyperboles; whereas they arevery literal and expressive renderings ofthe sounds of horror incessantthroughout a gale at sea. Our cabin,though very nice and comfortable inother respects, possessed anextraordinary attraction for any straywave which might be wandering aboutthe saloon: once or twice I have been inthe cuddy when a sea found its waydown the companion, and I havewatched with horrible anxiety a ton orso of water hesitating which cabin itshould enter and deluge, and it always

seemed to choose ours. All thesemiseries appear now, after even a fewdays of the blessed land, to belong to adistant past; but I feel inclined to laymy pen down and have a hearty laughat the recollection of one cold night,when a heavy "thud" burst open ourcabin door, and washed out all the strayparcels, boots, etc., from the corners inwhich the rolling of the ship hadpreviously bestowed them. I was highand dry in the top berth, but poor F inthe lower recess was awakened by thedouche, and no words of mine canconvey to you the utter absurdity of hisappearance, as he nimbly mounted onthe top of a chest of drawers close by,and crouched there, wet and shivering,

handing me up a most miscellaneousassortment of goods to take care of inmy little dry nest.

Some of our fellow-passengers werevery good-natured, and devotedthemselves to cheering and enliveningus by getting up concerts, littleburlesques and other amusements; andvery grateful we were for their efforts:they say that "anything is fun in thecountry," but on board ship a little witgoes a very long way indeed, for all areonly too ready and anxious to beamused. The whole dramatic strengthof the company was called into forcefor the performance of "The Rivals,"which was given a week or so before

the end of the voyage. It went offwonderfully well; but I confess Ienjoyed the preparations more than theplay itself: the ingenuity displayed wasvery amusing at the time. You on shorecannot imagine how difficult it was tofind a snuff-box for "Sir AnthonyAbsolute," or with what joy andadmiration we welcomed a cleversubstitute for it in the shape of amatch-box covered with the lead out ofa tea-chest most ingeniously modelledinto an embossed wreath round the lid,with a bunch of leaves and buds in thecentre, the whole being brightlyburnished: at the performance theeffect of this little "property" was reallyexcellent. Then, at the last moment,

poor "Bob Acres" had to give in, andacknowledge that he could not speakfor coughing; he had been sufferingfrom bronchitis for some days past, buthad gallantly striven to make himselfheard at rehearsals; so on the day of theplay F had the part forced on him.There was no time to learn his "words,"so he wrote out all of them in largeletters on slips of paper and fastenedthem on the beams. This device wasinvisible to the audience, but he wasobliged to go through his scenes withhis head as high up as if he had on amartingale; however, we were all soindulgent that at any little contretemps,such as one of the actresses forgettingher part or being seized by stage-fright,

the applause was much greater thanwhen things went smoothly.

I can hardly believe that it is only twodays since we steamed into Hobson'sBay, on a lovely bright spring morning.At dinner, the evening before, our dearold captain had said that we should seethe revolving light on the nearestheadland about eight o'clock thatevening, and so we did. You will notthink me childish, if I acknowledgethat my eyes were so full of tears Icould hardly see it after the firstglimpse; it is impossible to express in aletter all the joy and thankfulness ofsuch a moment. Feelings like these areforgotten only too quickly in the jar

and bustle of daily life, and we arealways ready to take as a matter ofcourse those mercies which are newevery morning; but when I realized thatall the tosses and tumbles of so manyweary days and nights were over, andthat at last we had reached the havenwhere we would be, my first thoughtwas one of deep gratitude. It was easyto see that it was a good moment witheveryone; squabbles were made up withsurprising quickness; shy people grewsuddenly sociable; some who hadcomfortable homes to go to on landinggave kind and welcome invitations toothers, who felt themselves sadlystrange in a new country; and it waswith really a lingering feeling of regret

that we all separated at last, though avery short time before we should havethought it quite impossible to beanything but delighted to leave the ship.

We have not seen much of Melbourneyet, as there has been a great deal to doin looking after the luggage, and at firstone is capable of nothing but adelightful idleness. The keenestenjoyment is a fresh-water bath, andnext to that is the new and agreeableluxury of the ample space for dressing;and then it is so pleasant to suffer noanxiety as to the brushes and combstumbling about. I should think thateven the vainest woman in the worldwould find her toilet and its duties a

daily trouble and a sorrow at sea, onaccount of the unsteadiness of allthings. The next delight is standing atthe window, and seeing horses, andtrees, and dogs in fact, all the "treasuresof the land;" as for flowers beautiful asthey are at all times you cannot learn toappreciate them enough until you havebeen deprived of them for two months.

You know that I have travelled a gooddeal in various parts of the world, but Ihave never seen anything at all likeMelbourne. In other countries, it isgenerally the antiquity of the cities, andtheir historical reminiscences, whichappeal to the imagination; but here, theinterest is as great from exactly the

opposite cause. It is most wonderful towalk through a splendid town, withmagnificent public buildings, churches,shops, clubs, theatres, with the streetswell paved and lighted, and to thinkthat less than forty years ago it was adesolate swamp without even a hutupon it. How little an English countrytown progresses in forty years, and hereis a splendid city created in that time! Ihave no hesitation in saying, that anyfashionable novelty which comes out ineither London or Paris finds its way toMelbourne by the next steamer; forinstance, I broke my parasol on boardship, and the first thing I did onlanding was to go to one of the bestshops in Collins Street to replace it. On

learning what I wanted, the shopmanshowed me some of those newparasols which had just come out inLondon before I sailed, and which Ihad vainly tried to procure in S , onlyfour hours from London.

The only public place we have yetvisited is the Acclimatization Garden;which is very beautifully laid out, andfull of aviaries, though it looks strangeto see common English birds treated asdistinguished visitors and sumptuouslylodged and cared for. Naturally, theAustralian ones interest me most, andthey are certainly prettier than yours athome, though they do not sing. I havebeen already to a shop where they sell

skins of birds, and have half ruinedmyself in purchases for hats. You are tohave a "diamond sparrow," a dear littlefellow with reddish brown plumage,and white spots over its body (in thisrespect a miniature copy of the Arguspheasant I brought from India), and atriangular patch of bright yellow underits throat. I saw some of them alive in acage in the market with many otherkinds of small birds, and several pairsof those pretty grass or zebraparoquets, which are called here by thevery inharmonious name of"budgerighars." I admired the bluewren so much a tiny birdeen with tailand body of dust-coloured feathers,and head and throat of a most lovely

turquoise blue; it has also a little wattleof these blue feathers standing straightout on each side of its head, whichgives it a very pert appearance. Thenthere is the emu-wren, all sad-coloured,but quaint, with the tail-featherssticking up on end, and exactly likethose of an emu; on the very smallestscale, even to the peculiarity of twofeathers growing out of the same littlequill. I was much amused by thevarieties of cockatoos, parrots, andlories of every kind and colour,shrieking and jabbering in the part ofthe market devoted to them; but I amtold that I have seen very few of thevarieties of birds, as it is early in thespring, and the young ones have not yet

been brought in: they appear to sell asfast as they can be procured. But beforeI end my letter I must tell you about thecockatoo belonging to this hotel. It is afamous bird in its way, having had itsportrait taken several times,descriptions written for newspapers ofits talents, and its owner boasts ofenormous sums offered and refusedfor it. Knowing my fondness for pets, Ftook me downstairs to see it very soonafter our arrival. I thought it hideous: itbelongs to a kind not very well knownin England, of a dirtyish white colour,a very ugly-shaped head and bill, andlarge bluish rings round the eyes; thebeak is huge and curved. If it knew ofthis last objection on my part, it would

probably answer, like the wolf in RedRiding Hood's story, "the better to talkwith, my dear" for it is a weird andknowing bird. At first it flatly refusedto show off any of itsaccomplishments, but one of the hotelservants good-naturedly came forward,and Cocky condescended to gothrough his performances. I cannotpossibly-tell you of all its antics: itpretended to have a violent toothache,and nursed its beak in its claw, rockingitself backwards and forwards as if inthe greatest agony, and in answer to allthe remedies which were proposed,croaking out, "Oh, it ain't a bit ofgood," and finally sidling up, to theedge of its perch, and saying in hoarse

but confidential whisper, "Give us adrop of whisky, do." Its voice wasextraordinarily distinct, and when itsang several snatches of songs thewords were capitally given, with themost absurdly comic intonation, all theroulades being executed in perfect tune. Iliked its sewing performance so muchto see it hold a little piece of stuffunderneath the claw which rested onthe perch, and pretend to sew with theother, getting into difficulties with itsthread, and finally setting up a loudsong in praise of sewing-machines justas if it were an advertisement.

By the next time I write I shall haveseen more of Melbourne; there will,

however, be no time for another letterby this mail; but I will leave one to beposted after we sail for New Zealand.

Letter II: Sight-seeing in Melbourne.

Melbourne, October 1st, 1865. I haveleft my letter to the last moment beforestarting for Lyttleton; everything is re-packed and ready, and we sail to-morrow morning in the Albion. She is amail-steamer very small after our largevessel, but she looks clean and tidy; atall events, we hope to be only on boardher for ten days. In England one fanciesthat New Zealand is quite close to

Australia, so I was rather disgusted tofind we had another thousand miles ofsteaming to do before we could reachour new home; and one of the manyJob's comforters who are scattered upand down the world assures me that thenavigation is the most dangerous anddifficult of the whole voyage.

We have seen a good deal ofMelbourne this week; and not only ofthe town, for we have had many drivesin the exceedingly pretty suburbs,owing to the kindness of the D s, whohave been most hospitable and madeour visit here delightful. We drove outto their house at Toorak three or fourtimes; and spent a long afternoon with

them; and there I began to makeacquaintance with the Antipodean treesand flowers. I hope you will not thinkit a very sweeping assertion if I say thatall the leaves look as if they were madeof leather, but it really is so; the hotwinds appear to parch up everything, atall events, round Melbourne, till thegreatest charm of foliage is more orless lost; the flowers also look witheredand burnt up, as yours do at the end ofa long, dry summer, only they assumethis appearance after the first hot windin spring. The suburb called Heidelbergis the prettiest, to my taste anundulating country with vineyards, anda park-like appearance which, is verycharming. All round Melbourne there

are nice, comfortable, English-lookingvillas. At one of these we called toreturn a visit and found a veryhandsome house, luxuriouslyfurnished, with beautiful garden andgrounds. One afternoon we went byrail to St. Kilda's, a flourishing bathing-place on the sea-coast, about six milesfrom Melbourne. Everywhere buildingis going on with great rapidity, and youdo not see any poor people in thestreets. If I wanted to be critical andfind fault, I might object to the deepgutters on each side of the road; after ashower of rain they are raging torrentsfor a short time, through which you areobliged to splash without regard to themuddy consequences; and even when

they are dry, they entail sudden andprodigious jolts. There are plenty ofHansoms and all sorts of otherconveyances, but I gave F no peaceuntil he took me for a drive in a vehiclewhich was quite new to me a sort oflight car with a canopy and curtains,holding four, two on each seat, dos-a-dos,and called a "jingle," of Americanparentage, I fancy. One drive in thiscarriage was quite enough, however,and I contented myself with Hansomsafterwards; but walking is really moreenjoyable than anything else, afterhaving been so long cooped up onboard ship.

We admired the fine statue, at the top

of Collins Street, to the memory of thetwo most famous of Australianexplorers, Burke and Wills, and mademany visits to the Museum, and theglorious Free Library; we also went allover the Houses of Legislature verynew and grand. But you must notdespise me if I confess to havingenjoyed the shops exceedingly: it was sounlike a jeweller's shop in England tosee on the counter gold in its raw state,in nuggets and dust and flakes; in thisstage of its existence it certainlydeserves its name of "filthy lucre," forit is often only half washed. There werequantities of emus' eggs in thesilversmiths' shops, mounted in everyconceivable way as cups and vases, and

even as work-boxes: some designsconsisted of three or five eggs groupedtogether as a centre-piece. I cannothonestly say I admired any of them;they were generally too elaborate,comprising often a native (spear inhand), a kangaroo, palms, ferns,cockatoos, and sometimes an emu ortwo in addition, as a pedestal all this infrosted silver or gold. I was given a pairof these eggs before leaving England:they were mounted in London as littleflower-vases in a setting consisting onlyof a few bulrushes and leaves, yet farbetter than any of these florid designs;but he emu-eggs are very popular inSydney or Melbourne, and I am toldsell rapidly to people going home, who

take them as a memento of theirAustralian life, and probably think thatthe greater the number ofreminiscences suggested by theornament the more satisfactory it is as apurchase.

I must finish my letter by a descriptionof a dinner-party which about a dozenof our fellow-passengers joined withus in giving our dear old captain beforewe all separated. Whilst we were onboard, it very often happened that thefood was not very choice or good: at allevents we used sometimes to grumbleat it, and we generally wound up ourlamentations by agreeing that when wereached Melbourne we would have a

good dinner together. Looking back onit, I must say I think we were all rathergreedy, but we tried to give a bettercolouring to our gourmandism byinviting the captain, who wasuniversally popular, and by making it aselegant and pretty a repast as possible.Three or four of the gentlemen formedthemselves into a committee, and theymust really have worked very hard; at allevents they collected everything rareand strange in the way of fish, flesh,and fowl peculiar to Australia, thearrangement of the table was charming,and the delicacies were all cooked andserved to perfection. The ladies' tasteswere considered in the profusion offlowers, and we each found an

exquisite bouquet by our plate. I cannotpossibly give you a minute account ofthe whole menu; in fact, as it is, I feelrather like Froissart, who, afterchronicling a long list of sumptuousdishes, is not ashamed to confess, "Ofall which good things I, the chroniclerof this narration, did partake!" Thesoups comprised kangaroo-tail a clearsoup not unlike ox-tail, but with aflavour of game. I wish I couldrecollect the names of the fish: thefresh-water ones came a long distanceby rail from the river Murray, but wereexcellent nevertheless. The last thingwhich I can remember tasting (for onereally could do little else) was a mostexquisite morsel of pigeon more like a

quail than anything else in flavour. I amnot a judge of wine, as you mayimagine, therefore it is no unkindnessto the owners of the beautifulvineyards which we saw the other day,to say that I do not like the Australianwines. Some of the gentlemenpronounced them to be excellent,especially the equivalent to Sauterne,which has a wonderful native nameimpossible to write down; but, as I saidbefore, I do not like the rather roughflavour. We had not a great variety offruit at dessert: indeed, Sydney orangesconstituted its main feature, as it is toolate for winter fruits, and too early forsummer ones: but we were not inclinedto be over-fastidious, and thought

everything delicious.

Letter III: On to New Zealand.

Christchurch, Canterbury, N. Z.October 14th, 1865. As you soparticularly desired me when we partedto tell you everything, I must resume mystory where in my last letter I left it off.If I remember rightly, I ended with anattempt at describing our great feast.We embarked the next day, and as soonas we were out of the bay the littleAlbion plunged into heavy seas. Themotion was much worse in her than onboard the large vessel we had been so

glad to leave, and all my previoussufferings seemed insignificantcompared with what I endured in mysmall and wretchedly hard berth. I havea dim recollection of F helping me todress, wrapping me up in variousshawls, and half carrying me up thecompanion ladder; I crawled into asunny corner among the boxes oforanges with which the deck wascrowded, and there I lay helpless andutterly miserable. One well-meaningand good-natured fellow-passengerasked F if I was fond of birds, and onhis saying "Yes," went off for a largewicker cage of hideous "laughingJackasses," which he was taking as agreat treasure to Canterbury. Why they

should be called "Jackasses" I nevercould discover; but the creaturescertainly do utter by fits and starts asound which may fairly be described aslaughter. These paroxysms arise fromno cause that one can perceive; onebird begins, and all the others join in,and a more doleful and depressingchorus I never heard: early in themorning seemed the favourite time forthis discordant mirth. Their owner alsopossessed a cockatoo with a greatmusical reputation, but I never heard itget beyond the first bar of "Come intothe garden, Maud." Ill as I was, Iremember being roused to somethinglike a flicker of animation when I wasshown an exceedingly seedy and

shabby-looking blackbird with abroken leg in splints, which its master(the same bird-fancying gentleman)assured me he had bought inMelbourne as a great bargain for only 2pounds 10 shillings!

After five days' steaming we arrived inthe open roadstead of Hokitika, on thewest coast of the middle island of NewZealand, and five minutes after theanchor was down a little tug camealongside to take away our steeragepassengers three hundred diggers. Thegold-fields on this coast were onlydiscovered eight months ago, andalready several canvas towns havesprung up; there are thirty thousand

diggers at work, and every vessel bringsa fresh cargo of stalwart, sun-burntmen. It was rather late, and getting dark,but still I could distinctly see thepicturesque tents in the deep mountaingorge, their white shapes dotted hereand there as far back from the shore asmy sight could follow, and the wreathsof smoke curling up in all directionsfrom the evening fires: it is still bitterlycold at night, being very early spring.The river Hokitika washes down withevery fresh such quantities of sand, thata bar is continually forming in thisroadstead, and though only vessels ofthe least possible draught are engagedin the coasting-trade, still wrecks are offrequent occurrence. We ought to have

landed our thousands of oranges here,but this work was necessarily deferredtill the morning, for it was as much asthey could do to get all the diggers andtheir belongings safely ashore beforedark; in the middle of the night one ofthe sudden and furious gales commonto these seas sprang up, and wouldsoon have driven us on the rocks if wehad not got our steam up quickly andstruggled out to sea, oranges and all,and away to Nelson, on the north coastof the same island. Here we landed theseventh day after leaving Melbourne,and spent a few hours wandering abouton shore. It is a lovely little town, as Isaw it that spring morning, with hillsrunning down almost to the water's

edge, and small wooden houses withgables and verandahs, half buried increepers, built up the sides of the steepslopes. It was a true New Zealand day,still and bright, a delicious invigoratingfreshness in the air, without the leastchill, the sky of a more than Italianblue, the ranges of mountains in thedistance covered with snow, andstanding out, sharp and clear againstthis lovely glowing heaven. The townitself, I must say, seemed very dull andstagnant, with little sign of life oractivity about it; but nothing can beprettier or more picturesque than itssituation not unlike that of a Swissvillage. Our day came to an end all toosoon, and we re-embarked for

Wellington, the most southern town ofthe North Island. The seat ofgovernment is there, and it is supposedto be a very thriving place, but is notnearly so well situated as Nelson nor soattractive to strangers. We landed andwalked about a good deal, and sawwhat little there was to see. At first Ithought the shops very handsome, butI found, rather to my disgust, thatgenerally the fine, imposing frontagewas all a sham; the actual building wasonly a little but at the back, looking allthe meaner for the contrast to thecornices and show windows in front.You cannot think how odd it was toturn a corner and see that the buildingwas only one board in thickness, and

scarcely more substantial than thescenes at a theatre. We lunched at theprincipal hotel, where F was muchamused at my astonishment at colonialprices. We had two dozen very nicelittle oysters, and he had a glass ofporter: for this modest repast we paideleven shillings!

We slept on board, had another walkon shore after breakfast the followingmorning, and about twelve o'clock setoff for Lyttleton, the final end of ourvoyaging, which we reached in abouttwenty hours.

The scenery is very beautiful all alongthe coast, but the navigation is both

dangerous and difficult. It wasexceedingly cold, and Lyttleton did notlook very inviting; we could not get inat all near the landing-place, and had topay 2 pounds to be rowed ashore in anopen boat with our luggage. I assureyou it was a very "bad quarter of anhour" we passed in that boat; gettinginto it was difficult enough. The spraydashed over us every minute, and bythe time we landed we were quitedrenched, but a good fire at the hoteland a capital lunch soon made us allright again; besides, in the delight ofbeing actually at the end of our voyageno annoyance or discomfort was wortha moment's thought. F had a couple ofhours' work rushing backwards and

forwards to the Custom House,clearing our luggage, and arranging forsome sort of conveyance to take usover the hills. The great tunnel throughthese "Port Hills" (which divideLyttleton from Christchurch, the capitalof Canterbury) is only half finished,but it seems wonderful that soexpensive and difficult an engineeringwork could be undertaken by such aninfant colony.

At last a sort of shabby waggonettewas forthcoming, and about threeo'clock we started from Lyttleton, andalmost immediately began to ascend thezig-zag. It was a tremendous pull forthe poor horses, who however never

flinched; at the steepest pinch thegentlemen were requested to get outand walk, which they did, and at lengthwe reached the top. It was worth all thebad road to look down on the land-locked bay, with the little patches ofcultivation, a few houses nestling inpretty recesses. The town of Lyttletonseemed much more imposing andimportant as we rose above it: fifteenyears ago a few sheds received the"Pilgrims," as the first comers arealways called. I like the name; it is sopretty and suggestive. By the way, I amtold that these four ships, sent out withthe pilgrims by the CanterburyAssociation, sailed together fromEngland, parted company almost

directly, and arrived in Lyttleton (thencalled Port Cooper) four monthsafterwards, on the same day, having allexperienced fine weather, but neverhaving sighted each other once.

As soon as we reached the top of thehill the driver looked to the harness ofhis horses, put on a very powerfuldouble break, and we began thedescent, which, I must say, I thoughtwe took much too quickly, especially asat every turn of the road some littleanecdote was forthcoming of an upsetor accident; however, I would not showthe least alarm, and we were soonrattling along the Sumner Road, by thesea-shore, passing every now and then

under tremendous overhanging crags.In half an hour we reached Sumneritself, where we stopped for a fewmoments to change horses. There is aninn and a village here, where peoplefrom Christchurch come in the warmweather for sea-air and bathing. Itbegan to rain hard, and the rest of thejourney, some seven or eight miles, wasdisagreeable enough; but it was the end,and that one thought was sufficient tokeep us radiantly good-humoured, inspite of all little trials. When wereached Christchurch, we drove at onceto a sort of boarding-house where wehad engaged apartments, and thoughtof nothing but supper and bed.

The next day people began calling, andcertainly I cannot complain of anycoldness or want of welcome to mynew home. I like what I have seen ofmy future acquaintances very much. Ofcourse there is a very practical style andtone over everything, though outwardlythe place is as civilized as if it were ahundred years old; well-paved streets,gas lamps, and even drinking fountainsand pillar post-offices! I often findmyself wondering whether the ladieshere are at all like what our greatgrandmothers were. I suspect they are,for they appear to possess an amountof useful practical knowledge which isquite astonishing, and yet know how tosurround themselves, according to their

means and opportunities, with therefinements and elegancies of life. I feelquite ashamed of my own utterignorance on every subject, and amdetermined to set to work directly andlearn: at all events I shall have plenty ofinstructresses. Christchurch is a verypretty little town, still primitive enoughto be picturesque, and yet very thriving:capital shops, where everything may bebought; churches, public buildings, avery handsome club-house, etc. Mostof the houses are of wood, but whenthey are burned down (which is oftenthe case) they are now rebuilt of brickor stone, so that the new ones arenearly all of these more solid materials.I am disappointed to find that, the

cathedral, of which I had heard somuch, has not progressed beyond thefoundations, which cost 8,000 pounds:all the works have been stopped, andcertainly there is not much to show forso large a sum, but labour is very dear.Christchurch is a great deal more livelyand bustling than most English countrytowns, and I am much struck by thehealthy appearance of the people.There are no paupers to be seen; everyone seems well fed and well clothed;the children are really splendid. Ofcourse, as might be expected, there is agreat deal of independence in bearingand manner, especially among theservants, and I hear astounding storiesconcerning them on all sides. My next

letter will be from the country, as wehave accepted an invitation to pay avisit of six weeks or so to a station inthe north of the province.

Letter IV: First introduction to "Stationlife."

Heathstock, Canterbury, November13th, 1865. I have just had thehappiness of receiving my first budgetof English letters; and no one canimagine how a satisfactory home lettersatisfies the hunger of the heart after itsloved and left ones. Your letter wasparticularly pleasant, because I could

perceive, as I held the paper in myhands, that you were writing as youreally felt, and that you were indeedhappy. May you long continue so,dearest.

F says that this beautiful place will giveme a very erroneous impression ofstation life, and that I shall probablyexpect to find its comforts and luxuriesthe rule, whereas they are the exception;in the mean time, however, I amenjoying them thoroughly. The house isonly sixty-five miles from Christchurch,nearly due north (which you must notforget answers to your south in pointof warmth). Our kind friends andhosts, the L s, called for us in their

comfortable and large break, with fourhorses. Mr. L drove, F sat on the box,and inside were the ladies, children, anda nurse. Our first stage was to Kaiapoi,a little town on the river Waimakiriri,where we had a good luncheon ofwhitebait, and rested and fed thehorses. From the window of the hotel Isaw a few groups of Maories; theylooked very ugly and peaceable, with arude sort of basket made of flax fibres,or buckets filled with whitebait, whichthey wanted us to buy. There are somereserved lands near Kaiapoi where theyhave a very thriving settlement, living inperfect peace and good-will with theirwhite neighbours. When we set offagain on our journey, we passed a little

school-house for their children.

We reached Leathfield that evening,only twenty-five miles fromChristchurch; found a nice inn, oraccommodation-house, as roadsideinns are called here; had a capitalsupper and comfortable beds, and wereup and off again at daylight the nextmorning. As far as the Weka Pass,where we stopped for dinner, the roadswere very good, but after that we gotmore among the hills and off the usualtrack, and there were many sharp turnsand steep pinches; but Mr. L is anexcellent whip, and took great care ofus. We all got very weary towards theend of this second day's journey, and

the last two hours of it were in heavyrain; it was growing very dark when wereached the gate, and heard thewelcome sound of gravel under thewheels. I could just perceive that wehad entered a plantation, the first treessince we left Christchurch. Nothingseems so wonderful to me as the uttertreelessness of the vast Canterburyplains; occasionally you pass a few Ti-tipalms (ordinarily called cabbage-trees),or a large prickly bush which goes bythe name of "wild Irishman," but formiles and miles you see nothing but flatground or slightly undulating downsof yellow tussocks, the tall native grass.It has the colour and appearance ofhay, but serves as shelter for a delicious

undergrowth of short sweet herbage,upon which the sheep live, and horsesalso do very well on it, keeping in goodworking condition, quite unlike theirpuffy, fat state on English pasture.

We drove through the plantation andanother gate, and drew up at the doorof a very large, handsome, brick house,with projecting gables and a verandah.The older I grow the more convinced Iam that contrast is everything in thisworld; and nothing I can write can giveyou any idea of the delightful changefrom the bleak country we had beenslowly travelling through in pouringrain, to the warmth and brightness ofthis charming house. There were

blazing fires ready to welcome us, and Ifeel sure you will sufficiently appreciatethis fact when I tell you that by the timethe coal reaches this, it costs ninepounds per ton. It is possible to getAustralian coal at about half the price,but it is not nearly as good.

We were so tired that we were only fitfor the lowest phase of humanenjoyment warmth, food, and sleep; butthe next morning was bright and lovely,and I was up and out in the verandahas early as possible. I found myselfsaying constantly, in a sort of ecstasy,"How I wish they could see this inEngland!" and not only see but feel it,for the very breath one draws on such a

morning is a happiness; the air is solight and yet balmy, it seems to heal thelungs as you inhale it. The verandah iscovered with honeysuckles and othercreepers, and the gable end of thehouse where the bow-window of thedrawing-room projects, is one mass ofyellow Banksia roses in full blossom. Astream runs through the grounds,fringed with weeping willows, whichare in their greatest beauty at this timeof year, with their soft, feathery foliageof the tenderest green. The flower bedsare dotted about the lawn, whichsurrounds the house and slopes awayfrom it, and they are brilliant patches ofcolour, gay with verbenas, geraniums,and petunias. Here and there clumps of

tall trees rise above the shrubs, and as abackground there is a thick plantationof red and blue gums, to shelter thegarden from the strong N.W. winds.Then, in front, the country stretchesaway in undulating downs to a chainof high hills in the distance: every nowand then there is a deep gap in these,through which you see magnificentsnow-covered mountains.

The inside of the house is as charmingas the outside, and the perfection ofcomfort; but I am perpetuallywondering how all the furnitureespecially the fragile part of it got here.When I remember the jolts, and ruts,and roughnesses of the road, I find

myself looking at the pier-glass andglass shades, picture-frames, etc., with asort of respect, due to them for havingsurvived so many dangers.

The first two or three days we enjoyedourselves in a thoroughly lazy manner;the garden was a never-ending sourceof delight, and there were all theanimals to make friends with, "mobs"of horses to look at, rabbits, poultry,and pets of all sorts. About a weekafter our arrival, some more gentlemencame, and then we had a series ofpicnics. As these are quite unlike yourhighly civilized entertainments whichgo by the same name, I must describeone to you.

The first thing after breakfast was tocollect all the provisions, and packthem in a sort of washing-basket, andthen we started in an American waggondrawn by a pair of stout cobs. Wedrove for some miles till we came to theedge of one of the high terracescommon to New Zealand scenery: herewe all got out; the gentlemenunharnessed and tethered the horses, sothat they could feed about comfortably,and then we scrambled down the deepslope, at the bottom of which ran awide shallow creek. It was no easymatter to get the basket down here, Iassure you; we ladies were onlypermitted to load ourselves, one with a

little kettle, and the other with a tea-pot,but this was quite enough, as crossingthe creek by a series of jumps from onewet stone to another is not easy for abeginner.

Mr. L brought a large dog with him, akangaroo-hound (not unlike a lurcherin appearance), to hunt the wekas. I hadheard at night the peculiar cry or call ofthese birds, but had not seen one untilto-day. "Fly" put up several, one afteranother, and soon ran them down. Atfirst I thought it very cruel to destroysuch a tame and apparently harmlesscreature, but I am assured that they aremost mischievous, and that it would beuseless to turn out the pheasants and

partridges which Mr. L has broughtfrom England, until the numbers ofthe wekas are considerably reduced.They are very like a hen pheasantwithout the long tail feathers, and untilyou examine them you cannot tell theyhave no wings, though there is a sort ofsmall pinion among the feathers, with aclaw at the end of it. They run veryswiftly, availing themselves cleverly ofthe least bit of cover; but when youhear a short sharp cry, it is a sign thatthe poor weka is nearly done, and thenext thing you see is Fly shaking abundle of brown feathers vehemently.All the dogs are trained to hunt thesebirds, as they are a great torment,sucking eggs and killing chickens; but

still I could not help feeling sorry whenFly, having disposed of the mother,returned to the flax-bush out of whichhe had started her, and killed severalbaby-wekas by successive taps of hispaw.

I have wandered away from my accountof the picnic in the most unjustifiablemanner. The gentlemen were toiling upthe hill, after we had crossed the creek,carrying the big basket by turnsbetween them; it was really hard work,and I must tell you in confidence, that Idon't believe they liked it at least I cananswer for one. I laughed at them fornot enjoying their task, and assuredthem that I was looking forward with

pleasure to washing up the plates anddishes after our luncheon; but I foundthat they had all been obliged, in theearly days of the colony, to work atdomestic drudgery in grim and grimyearnest, so it had lost the charm ofnovelty which it still possessed for me.

As soon as we reached a prettysheltered spot half-way up the hillamong some trees and ferns, and by theside of the creek, we unpacked thebasket, and began collecting dry woodfor a fire: we soon had a splendid blazeunder the lee of a fine rock, and therewe boiled our kettle and our potatoes.The next thing was to find a deep holein the creek, so over-shadowed by rocks

and trees that the water would be icycold: in this we put the champagne tocool. The result of all our preparationswas a capital luncheon, eaten in a mostromantic spot, with a lovely viewbefore us, and the creek just like aScotch burn, hurrying and tumblingdown the hill-side to join the broaderstream in the valley. After luncheon, thegentlemen considered themselvesentitled to rest, lying lazily back amongthe fern and smoking, whilst we ladiessat a little apart and chatted: I was busylearning to knit. Then, about five, wehad the most delicious cup of tea I evertasted, and we repacked the basket (itwas very light now, I assure you), andmade our way back to the top of the

terrace, put the horses in again, and sohome. It was a long, bright, summerholiday, and we enjoyed it thoroughly.After a voyage, such an expedition asthis is full of delight; every tree andbird is a source of pleasure.

Letter V: A pastoral letter.

Heathstock, December 1st, 1865. All Ican find to tell you this month is that Ihave seen one of the finest and bestwool-sheds in the country in full work.Anything about sheep is as new to youas it is to me, so I shall begin my storyat the very beginning.

I am afraid you will think us a verygreedy set of people in this part of theworld, for eating seems to enter solargely into my letters; but the fact isand I may as well confess it at once Iam in a chronic state of hunger; it is thefault of the fine air and the outdoorlife: and then how one sleeps at night! Idon't believe you really know inEngland what it is to be sleepy as wefeel sleepy here; and it is delightful towake up in the morning with the sortof joyous light-heartedness which onlyyoung children have. The expedition Iam going to relate may fairly be said tohave begun with eating, for althoughwe started for our twelve miles' drive

over the downs immediately after anexcellent and somewhat late breakfast,yet by the time we reached the HomeStation we were quite ready forluncheon. All the work connected withthe sheep is carried on here. Themanager has a nice house; and thewool-shed, men's huts, dip, etc., are neareach other. It is the busiest season ofthe year, and no time could be sparedto prepare for us; we thereforecontented ourselves with what wasdescribed to me as ordinary station fare,and I must tell you what they gave us:first, a tureen of real mutton-broth, nothot water and chopped parsley, butexcel-lent thick soup, with plenty ofbarley and meat in it; this had much the

same effect on our appetites as thefamous treacle and brimstone beforebreakfast in "Nicholas Nickleby," sothat we were only able to manage a fewlittle sheeps' tongues, slightly pickled;and very nice they were; then wefinished with a Devonshire junket, withclotted cream a discretion. Do you thinkwe were much to be pitied

After this repast we were obliged to resta little before we set out for the wool-shed, which has only been latelyfinished, and has all the newestimprovements. At first I am "free toconfess" that I did not like either itssounds or sights; the other two ladiesturned very pale, but I was determined

to make myself bear it, and after amoment or two I found it quitepossible to proceed with Mr. L roundthe "floor." There were about twenty-five shearers at work, and everythingseemed to be very systematically andwell arranged. Each shearer has a trap-door close to him, out of which hepushes his sheep as soon as the fleece isoff, and there are little pens outside, sothat the manager can notice whether thepoor animal has been too much cutwith the shears, or badly shorn in anyother respect, and can tell exactly whichshearer is to blame. Before this plan wasadopted it was hopeless to try to findout who was the delinquent, for no onewould acknowledge to the least snip. A

good shearer can take off 120 fleecesin a day, but the average is about 80 toeach man. They get one pound perhundred, and are found in everything,having as much tea and sugar, breadand mutton, as they can consume, anda cook entirely to themselves; they workat least fourteen hours out of thetwenty-four, and with such a large flockas this about 50,000 must make a gooddeal.

We next inspected the wool tables, towhich two boys were incessantlybringing armfuls of rolled-up fleeces;these were laid on the tables before thewool-sorters, who opened them out,and pronounced in a moment to which

bin they belonged; two or three menstanding behind rolled them up againrapidly, and put them on a sort of shelfdivided into compartments, which wereeach labelled, so that the quality andkind of wool could be told at a glance.There was a constant emptying of thesebins into trucks to be carried off to thepress, where we followed to see thebales packed. The fleeces are tumbledin, and a heavy screw-press forces themdown till the bale which is kept open ina large square frame is as full as it canhold. The top of canvas is then put on,tightly sewn, four iron pins areremoved and the sides of the frame fallaway, disclosing a most symmetricalbale ready to be hoisted by a crane into

the loft above, where it has the brandof the sheep painted on it, its weight,and to what class the wool belongs. Ofcourse everything has to be done withgreat speed and system.

I was much impressed by the silence inthe shed; not a sound was to be heardexcept the click of the shears, and thewool-sorter's decision as he flings thefleece behind him, given in one, or atmost two words. I was reminded howtouchingly true is that phrase, "Like as asheep before her shearers is dumb." Allthe noise is outside; there the hubbub,and dust, and apparent confusion aregreat, a constant succession of woollysheep being brought up to fill the

"skillions" (from whence the shearerstake them as they want them), and thenewly-shorn ones, white, clean, andbewildered-looking, being turned outafter they have passed through anarrow passage, called a "race," whereeach sheep is branded, and has itsmouth examined in order to tell its age,which is marked in a book. It was acomfort to think all their troubles wereover, for a year. You can hear nothingbut barking and bleating, and this goeson from early morning till dark. Wepeeped in at the men's huts a long, lowwooden building, with two rows of"bunks" (berths, I should call their) inone compartment, and a table withforms round it in the other, and piles

of tin plates and pannikins all about.The kitchen was near, and we were justin time to see an enormous batch ofbread withdrawn from a huge brickoven: the other commissariatarrangements were on the same scale.Cold tea is supplied all day long to theshearers, and they appear to consumegreat quantities of it.

Our last visit was to the Dip, and it wasonly a short one, for it seemed a cruelprocess; unfortunately, this fine stationis in technical parlance "scabby," andalthough of course great precautionsare taken, still some 10,000 sheep hadan ominous large S on them. Thesepoor sufferers are dragged down a

plank into a great pit filled with hotwater, tobacco, and sulphur, and sousedover head and ears two or three times.This torture is repeated more thanonce.

I was very glad to get away from theDip, and back to the manager's house,where we refreshed ourselves by adelicious cup of tea, and soon afterstarted for a nice long drive home inthe cool, clear evening air. The days arevery hot, but never oppressive; and themornings and evenings are deliciouslyfresh and invigorating. You can remainout late without the least danger.Malaria is unknown, and, in spite ofthe heavy rains, there is no such thing

as damp. Our way lay through verypretty country a series of terraces, witha range of mountains before us, withbeautiful changing and softeningevening tints creeping over the whole.

I am sorry to say, we leave this nextweek. I should like to explore a greatdeal more.

Letter VI: Society. houses and servants.

Christchurch, January 1866. I ambeginning to get tired of Christchurchalready: but the truth is, I am not in afair position to judge of it as a place of

residence; for, living temporarily, as wedo, in a sort of boarding-house, I missthe usual duties and occupations ofhome, and the town itself has no placeof public amusement except a littletheatre, to which it is much too hot togo. The last two weeks have been thegay ones of the whole year; the raceshave been going on for three days, andthere have been a few balls; but as ageneral rule, the society may be said tobe extremely stagnant. No dinner-parties are ever given I imagine, onaccount of the smallness of the housesand the inefficiency of the servants; butevery now and then there is anassembly ball arranged, in the same way,I believe, as at watering-places in

England only, of course, on a muchsmaller scale. I have been at two orthree of these, and noticed at each amost undue preponderance of blackcoats. Nearly all the ladies were married,there were very few young girls; and itwould be a great improvement to theChristchurch parties if some of thepretty and partnerless groups of aLondon ball-room, in all their freshnessof toilette, could be transferred tothem. What a sensation they wouldmake, and what terrible heart-achesamong the young gentlemen would bethe result of such an importation!There were the same knots of menstanding together as at a London party,but I must say that, except so far as

their tailor is concerned, I think wehave the advantage of you, for thegentlemen lead such healthy lives thatthey all look more or less bronzed andstalwart in splendid condition, not likeyour pale dwellers in cities; and thenthey come to a ball to dance, arrivingearly so as to secure good partners, andtheir great ambition appears to be todance every dance from the first to thelast. This makes it hard work for thefew ladies, who are not allowed to sitdown for a moment, and I have oftenseen a young and pretty partner obligedto divide her dances between twogentlemen.

Although it tells only against myself, I

must make you laugh at an account ofa snub I received at one of these balls.Early in the evening I had danced witha young gentleman whose station was along way "up country," and whoworked so hard on it that he veryseldom found time for even the milddissipations of Christchurch; he wasgood-looking and gentlemanly, andseemed clever and sensible, a littlebrusque, perhaps, but one soon getsused to that here. During our quadrillehe confided to me that he hardly knewany ladies in the room, and that hisprospects of getting any dancing werein consequence very blank. I did all Icould to find partners for him,introducing him to every lady whom I

knew, but it was in vain; they wouldhave been delighted to dance with him,but their cards were filled. At the endof the evening, when I was feelingthoroughly done up, and could hardlystand up for fatigue, my poor friendcame up and begged for another dance.I assured him I could scarcely stand,but when he said in a larmoyante voice,"I have only danced once this evening,that quadrille with you," my heartsoftened, and I thought I would make agreat effort and try to get through onemore set of Lancers; my partnerseemed so grateful, that the demon ofvanity, or coquetry, or whatever it is thatprompts one to say absurd thingsinduced me to fish for a compliment,

and to observe, "It was not worth whiletaking all the trouble of riding such adistance to dance only with me, was it "Whereupon my poor, doleful friendanswered, with a deep sigh, and anaccent of profound conviction, "No,indeed it was not!" I leave you toimagine my discomfiture; but luckily henever observed it, and I felt all the timethat I richly deserved what I got, forasking such a stupid question.

The music at these balls is very bad,and though the principal room inwhich they are given, at the Town Hall,is large and handsome, it is poorlylighted, and the decorations aredesolate in the extreme. I am afraid this

is not a very inviting picture of what isalmost our only opportunity ofmeeting together, but it is tolerablycorrect. Visiting appears to be thebusiness of some people's lives, but theacquaintance does not seem to progressbeyond incessant afternoon calls; weare never asked inside a house, nor, asfar as I can make out, is there anyprivate society whatever, and the publicsociety consists, as I have said, of a ballevery now and then.

My greatest interest and occupationconsist in going to look at my house,which is being cut out in Christchurch,and will be drayed to our station nextmonth, a journey of fifty miles. It is, of

course, only of wood, and seems aboutas solid as a band-box; but I am assuredby the builder that it will be a "mostsuperior article" when it is all puttogether. F and I made the little plan ofit ourselves, regulating the size of thedrawing-room by the dimensions ofthe carpet we brought out, and Ipetitioned for a little bay-window,which is to be added; so on my last visitto his timber-yard, the builder said,with an air of great dignity, "Would youwish to see the horiel, mum " Thedoors all come ready-made fromAmerica, and most of the wood usedin building is the Kauri pine from theNorth Island. One advantage, at allevents, in having wooden houses is the

extreme rapidity with which they arerun up, and there are no plastered wallsto need drying. For a long time we werevery uncertain where, and what, weshould build on our station; but onlysix weeks after we made up our minds,a house is almost ready for us. Theboards are sawn into the requisitelengths by machinery; and all thecarpentering done down here; theframe will only require to be fittedtogether when it reaches its destination,and it is a very good time of year forbuilding, as the wool drays are all goingback empty, and we can get them totake the loads at reduced prices; buteven with this help, it is enormouslyexpensive to move a small house fifty

miles, the last fifteen over bad roads; itis collar-work for the poor horses allthe way, Christchurch being only ninefeet above the sea-level, while ourfuture home in the Malvern Hills istwelve hundred.

You know we brought all our furnitureout with us, and even papers for therooms, just because we happened tohave everything; but I should notrecommend any one to do so, for theexpense of carriage, though moderateenough by sea (in a wool ship), isenormous as soon as it reachesLyttleton, and goods have to bedragged up country by horses orbullocks. There are very good shops

where you can buy everything, andbesides these there are constant sales byauction where, I am told, furniturefetches a price sometimes under itsEnglish value. House rent aboutChristchurch is very high. We looked atsome small houses in and about thesuburbs of the town, when we wereundecided about our plans, and wereoffered the most inconvenient littledwellings, with rooms which werescarcely bigger than cupboards, for 200pounds a year; we saw nothing at alower price than this, and any house ofa better class, standing in a nicelyarranged shrubbery, is at least 300pounds per annum. Cab-hire is anotherthing which seems to me

disproportionately dear, as horses arevery cheap; there are no small fares,half-a-crown being the lowest "legaltender" to a cabman; and I soon gaveup returning visits when I found thatto make a call in a Hansom three orfour miles out of the little town costone pound or one pound ten shillings,even remaining only a few minutes atthe house.

All food (except mutton) appears to beas nearly as possible at London prices;but yet every one looks perfectly well-fed, and actual want is unknown.Wages of all sorts are high, andemployment, a certainty. The look andbearing of the immigrants appear to

alter soon after they reach the colony.Some people object to theindependence of their manner, but I donot; on the contrary, I like to see theupright gait, the well-fed, healthy look,the decent clothes (even if no onetouches his hat to you), instead of thehalf-starved, depressed appearance, andtoo often cringing servility of the massof our English population. Scotchmendo particularly well out here; frugal andthrifty, hard-working and sober, it iseasy to predict the future of a man ofthis type in a new country. Naturally,the whole tone of thought and feelingis almost exclusively practical; even in amorning visit there is no small-talk. Ifind no difficulty in obtaining the

useful information upon domesticsubjects which I so much need; for it issad to discover, after all my house-keeping experience, that I am stillperfectly ignorant. Here it is necessaryto know how everything should bedone; it is not sufficient to give anorder, you must also be in a position toexplain how it is to be carried out I feltquite guilty when I saw the picture inPunch the other day, of a young andinexperienced matron requesting hercook "not to put any lumps into themelted butter," and reflected that I didnot know how lumps should be keptout; so, as I am fortunate enough tonumber among my new friends a ladywho is as clever in these culinary details

as she is bright and charming in society,I immediately went to her for a lessonin the art of making melted butterwithout putting lumps into it.

The great complaint, the never-endingsubject of comparison and lamentationamong ladies, is the utter ignorance andinefficiency of their female servants. Assoon as a ship comes in it is besiegedwith people who want servants, but it isvery rare to get one who knows how todo anything as it ought to be done.Their lack of all knowledge of thecommonest domestic duties is mostsurprising, and makes one wonder whoin England did the necessary things ofdaily cottage life for them, for they

appear to have done nothing forthemselves hitherto. As for a womanknowing how to cook, that seems thevery last accomplishment they acquire; agirl will come to you as a housemaid at25 pounds per annum, and you willfind that she literally does not knowhow to hold her broom, and has neverhandled a duster. When you ask a nurseher qualifications for the care ofperhaps two or three young children,you may find, on close cross-examination, that she can recollecthaving once or twice "held mother'sbaby," and that she is very firm in herdetermination that "you'll keep babyyourself o' nights; mem!" A perfectlyinexperienced girl of this sort will ask,

and get, 30 pounds or 35 pounds perannum, a cook from 35 pounds to 40pounds; and when they go "upcountry," they hint plainly they shall notstay long with you, and ask higherwages, stipulating with great exactnesshow they are to be conveyed free of allexpense to and from their place.

Then, on the other hand, I must saythey work desperately hard, and verycheerfully: I am amazed how fewservants are kept even in the large andbetter class of houses. As a general rule,they, appear willing enough to learn,and I hear no complaints of dishonestyor immorality, though many moans aremade of the rapidity with which a nice

tidy young woman is snapped up as awife; but that is a complaint no one cansympathise with. On most stations amarried couple is kept; the man eitherto act as shepherd, or to work in thegarden and look after the cows, and thewoman is supposed to attend to theindoor comforts of the wretchedbachelor-master: but she generallyrequires to be taught how to bake aloaf of bread, and boil a potato, as wellas how to cook mutton in the simplestform. In her own cottage at home, whodid all these things for her Theseincapables are generally perfectlyhelpless and awkward at the wash-tub;no one seems to expect servants toknow their business, and it is very

fortunate if they show any capabilityof learning.

I must end my long letter by telling youa little story of my own personalexperience in the odd ways of thesegirls. The housemaid at the boarding-house where we have stayed since weleft Heathstock is a fat, sonsy, good-natured girl, perfectly ignorant andstupid, but she has not been long in thecolony, and seems willing to learn. Shecame to me the other day, and, withoutthe least circumlocution or hesitation,asked me if I would lend her myriding-habit as a pattern to give thetailor; adding that she wanted my bestand newest. As soon as I could speak

for amazement, I naturally asked why;she said she had been given a riding-horse, that she had loaned a saddle, andbought a hat, so now she had nothingon her mind except the habit; andfurther added, that she intended toleave her situation the day before theraces, and that it was "her fixed intent"to appear on horseback each day, andall day long, at these said races. Iinquired if she knew how to ride No;she had never mounted any animal inher life. I suggested that she had bettertake some lessons before herappearance in public; but she said hermistress did not like to spare her to"practise," and she stuck steadily to herpoint of wanting my habit as a pattern.

I could not lend it to her, fortunately,for it had been sent up to the stationwith my saddle, etc.; so had she beenkilled, as I thought not at all unlikely, atleast my conscience would not havereproached me for aiding and abettingher equestrian freak. I inquired fromevery one who went to the races if theysaw or heard of any accident to awoman on horseback, and I mostanxiously watched the newspapers tosee if they contained any notice of thesort, but as there has been no mentionof any catastrophe, I suppose she hasescaped safely. Her horse must havebeen quieter and better broken thanthey generally are. F says that probablyit was a very old "station screw." I trust

so, for her sake!

Letter VII: A young colonist. the townand its neighbourhood.

Christchurch, March 1866. I mustbegin my letter this mail with a piece ofdomestic news, and tell you of theappearance of your small nephew, nowthree weeks old. The youth seemsinclined to adapt himself tocircumstances, and to be as sturdy andindependent as colonial childrengenerally are. All my new friends andneighbours proved most kind andfriendly, and were full of good offices.

Once I happened to say that I did notlike the food as it was cooked at theboarding-house; and the next day, andfor many days after, all sorts of daintieswere sent to me, prepared by handswhich were as skilful on the piano, orwith a pencil, as they were in handling asaucepan. New books were lent to me,and I was never allowed to be withouta beautiful bouquet. One young ladyused constantly to walk in to town,some two or three miles along a hotand dusty road, laden with flowers forme, just because she saw howthoroughly I enjoyed her roses andcarnations. Was it not good of her

Christchurch has relapsed into the

quietude, to call it by no harsher name.The shearing is finished all over thecountry, and the "squatters" (as ownersof sheep-stations are called) havereturned to their stations to vegetate, orwork, as their tastes and circumstancesmay dictate. Very few people live in thetown except the tradespeople; theprofessional men prefer little villas twoor three miles off. These houses standin grounds of their own, and form avery pretty approach to Christchurch,extending a few miles on all sides:There are large trees bordering most ofthe streets, which give a very necessaryshade in summer; they are nearly allEnglish sorts, and have only beenplanted within a few years. Poplars,

willows, and the blue gum growquickest, are least affected by the highwinds, and are therefore the mostpopular. The banks of the pretty littleriver Avon, upon which Christchurch isbuilt, are thickly fringed with weepingwillows, interspersed with a few othertrees, and with clumps of tohi, which isexactly like the Pampas grass you knowso well in English shrubberies. I don'tthink I have ever told you that it hasbeen found necessary here to legislateagainst water-cress. It was introduced afew years since, and has spread sorapidly as to become a perfect nuisance,choking every ditch in theneighbourhood of Christchurch,blocking up mill-streams, causing

meadows to be flooded, and doing allkinds of mischief.

Towards Riccarton, about four milesout of town, the Avon shows like aslender stream a few inches wide,moving sluggishly between thick bedsof water-cress, which at this time ofyear are a mass of white blossom. Itlooks so perfectly solid that whenever Iam at Ilam, an insane desire to step onit comes over me, much to F 's alarm,who says he is afraid to let me out ofhis sight, lest I should attempt to do so.I have only seen one native "bush" orforest yet, and that is at Riccarton. Thispatch of tall, gaunt pines serves as alandmark for miles. Riccarton is one of

the oldest farms in the colony, and I amtold it possesses a beautiful garden. Ican only see the gable-end of a housepeeping out from among the trees as Ipass. This bush is most carefullypreserved, but I believe that every highwind injures it.

Christchurch is very prettily situated;for although it stands on a perfectly flatplain, towards the sea there are the PortHills, and the town itself is picturesque,owing to the quantities of trees and theirregular form of the wooden houses;and as a background we have the mostmagnificent chain of mountains theback-bone of the island running fromnorth to south, the highest peaks nearly

always covered with snow, even aftersuch a hot summer as this has been.The climate is now delicious, answeringin time of year to your September; butwe have far more enjoyable weatherthan your autumns can boast of. If theatmosphere were no older than the dateof the settlement of the colony, itcould not feel more youthful, it is so lightand bright, and exhilarating! The onedrawback, and the only one, is thenorth-west wind; and the worst of it is,that it blows very often from this point.However, I am assured that I have notyet seen either a "howling nor'-wester,"nor its exact antithesis, "a sutherlybuster."

We have lately been deprived of theamusement of going to see our houseduring the process of cutting it out, asit has passed that stage, and has beenpacked on drays and sent to the station,with two or three men to put it up. Itwas preceded by two dray-loads ofsmall rough-hewn stone piles, whichare first let into the ground six or eightfeet apart: the foundation joists rest onthese, so as just to keep the flooringfrom touching the earth. I did not likethis plan (which is the usual one) at all,as it seemed to me so insecure for thehouse to rest only on these stones. Itold the builder that I feared a strong"nor'-wester" (and I hear they areparticularly strong in the Malvern Hills)

would blow the whole affair away. Hedid not scout the idea as much as Icould have wished, but held out hopesto me that the roof would "kep itdown." I shall never dare to trust thebaby out of my sight, lest he should beblown away; and I have a plan forsecuring his cradle, by putting largeheavy stones in it, somewhere out ofhis way, so that he need not be hurt bythem. Some of the houses are built of"cob," especially those erected in thevery early days, when sawn timber wasrare and valuable: this material is simplywet clay with chopped tussocksstamped in. It makes very thick walls,and they possess the great advantage ofbeing cool in summer and warm in

winter. Whilst the house is new nothingcan be nicer; but, in a few years, the hotwinds dry up the clay so much, that itbecomes quite pulverized; and a ladywho lives in one of these houses toldme, that during a high wind she hadoften seen the dust from the wallsblowing in clouds about the rooms,despite of the canvas and paper, andwith all the windows carefully closed.

Next week F is going up to the station,to unpack and arrange a little, and babyand I are going to be taken care of atIlam, the most charming place I haveyet seen. I am looking forward to myvisit there with great pleasure.

Letter VIII: Pleasant days at Ilam.

Ilam, April 1866. We leave this to-morrow for the station in the mostextraordinary conveyance you ever saw.Imagine a flat tray with two low seats init, perched on four very high wheels,quite innocent of any step or means ofclambering in and out, and drawn,tandem-fashion, by two stout mares;one of which has a little foal by herside. The advantage of this vehicle isthat it is very light, and holds a gooddeal of luggage. We hope toaccomplish the distance fifty miles in aday, easily.

Although this is not my first visit toIlam, I don't think I have everdescribed it to you. The house is ofwood, two storeys high, and came outfrom England! It is built on a brickfoundation, which is quite unusualhere. Inside, it is exactly like a mostcharming English house, and when Ifirst stood in the drawing-room it wasdifficult to believe: that I was at theother end of the world. All the newestbooks, papers, and periodicals coveredthe tables, the newest music lay on thepiano, whilst a profusion of Englishgreenhouse flowers in Minton'sloveliest vases added to the illusion.The Avon winds through the grounds,

which are very pretty, and are laid out inthe English fashion; but in spite of thelawn with its croquet-hoops and sticks,and the beds of flowers in all their latesummer beauty, there is a certainabsence of the stiffness and trimnessof English pleasure-grounds, whichshows that you have escaped from theregion of conventionalities. There arethick clumps of plantations, whichhave grown luxuriantly, and look as ifthey had always been there. A curve ofthe opposite bank is a dense mass ofnative flax bushes, with their tall spikesof red blossom filling the air with ascent of honey, and attracting all thebees in the neighbourhood. Ti-ti palmsare dotted here and there, and give a

foreign and tropical appearance to thewhole. There is a large kitchen gardenand orchard, with none of therestrictions of high walls and lockedgates which fence your English peachesand apricots.

The following is our receipt for killingtime at Ilam: After breakfast, take thelast Cornhill or Macmillan, put on ashady hat, and sit or saunter by theriver-side under the trees, gathering anyvery tempting peach or apricot or plumor pear, until luncheon; same thinguntil five o'clock tea; then cross theriver by a rustic bridge, ascend someturf steps to a large terrace-likemeadow, sheltered from the north-west

winds by a thick belt of firs, blue gums,and poplars, and play croquet on turfas level as a billiard-table until dinner.At these games the cockatoo alwaysassists, making himself very busy,waddling after his mistress all over thefield, and climbing up her malletwhenever he has an opportunity. "Dr.Lindley" so called from his taste forpulling flowers to pieces apparently forbotanical purposes is the tamest andmost affectionate of birds, and I do notbelieve he ever bit any one in his life; hewill allow himself to be pulled about,turned upside down, scratched underhis wings, all with the greatestindifference, or rather with the mostpositive enjoyment. One evening I

could not play croquet for laughing athis antics. He took a sudden dislike to alittle rough terrier, and hunted himfairly off the ground at last, chasinghim all about, barking at him, anddigging his beak into the poor dog'spaw. But the "Doctor's" bestperformance is when he imitates ahawk. He reserves this fine piece ofacting until his mistress is feeding herpoultry; then, when all the hens andchickens, turkeys, and pigeons are in thequiet enjoyment of their breakfast orsupper, the peculiar shrill cry of a hawkis heard overhead, and the Doctor isseen circling in the air, uttering a screamoccasionally. The fowls never find outthat it is a hoax, but run to shelter,

cackling in the greatest alarm hensclucking loudly for their chicks, turkeyscrouching under the bushes, thepigeons taking refuge in their house; assoon as the ground is quite clear, Cockychanges his wild note for peals oflaughter from a high tree, and finallyalighting on the top of a hen-coopfilled with trembling chickens, remarksin a suffocated voice, "You'll be thedeath of me."

I must reverse the proverb about theridiculous and the sublime, and finishmy letter by telling you of Ilam's chiefoutdoor charm: from all parts of thegarden and grounds I can feast my eyeson the glorious chain of mountains

which I have before told you of, andmy bedroom window has a perfectpanoramic view of them. I watch themunder all their changes of tint, and findeach new phase the most beautiful. Inthe very early morning I have oftenstood shivering at my window to seethe noble outline gradually assumingshape, and finally standing out sharpand clear against a dazzling sky; then, asthe sun rises, the softest rose-colouredand golden tints touch the highestpeaks, the shadows deepening by thecontrast. Before a "nor'-wester" thecolours over these mountains and inthe sky are quite indescribable; no onebut Turner could venture upon such amixture of pale sea-green with deep

turquoise blue, purple with crimsonand orange. One morning an arch-likeappearance in the clouds over thefurthest ranges was pointed out to meas the sure forerunner of a violent galefrom the north-west, and theprognostic was fulfilled. It was formedof clouds of the deepest and richestcolours; within its curve lay a bareexpanse of a wonderful green tint,crossed by the snowy silhouette of theSouthern Alps. A few hours afterwardsthe mountains were quite hidden bymist, and a furious gale of hot windwas shaking the house as if it mustcarry it off into the sky; it blew socontinuously that the trees and shrubsnever seemed to rise for a moment

against it.

These hot winds affect infants andchildren a good deal, and my baby isnot at all well. However, his doctorthinks the change to the station will sethim all right again, so we are hurryingoff much sooner than our kind friendshere wish, and long before the littlehouse in the hills can possibly be madecomfortable, though F is working veryhard to get things settled for us.

Letter IX: Death in our new home NewZealand children.

Broomielaw, Malvern Hills, May 1866. Ido not like to allow the first Panamasteamer to go without a line from me:this is the only letter I shall attempt,and it will be but a short and sad one,for we are still in the first bitterness ofgrief for the loss of our dear little baby.After I last wrote to you he becamevery ill, but we hoped that his maladywas only caused by the unhealthinessof Christchurch during the autumn,and that he would soon revive and geton well in this pure, beautiful mountainair. We consequently hurried here assoon as ever we could get into thehouse, and whilst the carpenters werestill in it. Indeed, there was only onebedroom ready for us when I arrived.

The poor little man rallied at firstamazingly; the weather was exquisitelybright and sunny, and yet bracing. Babywas to be kept in the open air as muchas possible, so F and I spent our daysout on the downs near the house,carrying our little treasure by turns: butall our care was fruitless: he got anotherand more violent attack about afortnight ago, and after a few hours ofsuffering he was taken to the landwhere pain is unknown. During the lasttwelve hours of his life, as I sat beforethe fire with him on my lap, poor Fkneeling in a perfect agony of grief bymy side, my greatest comfort was inlooking at that exquisite photographfrom Kehren's picture of the "Good

Shepherd," which hangs over mybedroom mantelpiece, and thinkingthat our sweet little lamb would soonbe folded in those Divine, all-embracing Arms. It is not a commonpicture; and the expression of theSaviour's face is most beautiful, full ofsuch immense feminine compassionand tenderness that it makes me feelmore vividly, "In all our sorrows He isafflicted." In such a grief as this I findthe conviction of the reality and depthof the Divine sympathy is my only truecomfort; the tenderest human love fallsshort of the feeling that, without anywords to express our sorrow, Godknows all about it; that He would notwillingly afflict or grieve us, and that

therefore the anguish which wrings ourhearts is absolutely necessary in somemysterious way for our highest good. Ifear I have often thought lightly ofothers' trouble in the loss of so younga child; but now I know what it is.Does it not seem strange and sad, thatthis little house in a distant, lonely spot,no sooner becomes a home than it isbaptized, as it were, with tears Nodoubt there are bright and happy daysin store for us yet, but these first oneshere have been sadly darkened by thisshadow of death. Inanimate thingshave such a terrible power to woundone: though everything which wouldremind me of Baby has been carefullyremoved and hidden away by F 's

orders, still now and then I come acrosssome trifle belonging to him, and, asMiss Ingelow says

"My old sorrow wakes and cries."

Our loss is one too common out here, Iam told: infants born in Christchurchduring the autumn very often die.Owing to the flatness of the site of thetown, it is almost impossible to get aproper system of drainage; and thearrangements seem very bad, if you areto judge from the evil smells which areabroad in the evening. Children whoare born on a station, or taken there assoon as possible, almost invariablythrive, but babies are very difficult to

rear in the towns. If they get over thefirst year, they do well; and I cannotreally call to mind a single sickly, oreven delicate-looking child among theswarms which one sees everywhere.

I cannot say that I think colonialchildren prepossessing in eithermanners or appearance, in spite of theirruddy cheeks and sturdy limbs. Evenquite little things are pert andindependent, and give me the idea ofbeing very much spoiled. When youreflect on the utter absence of any onewho can really be called a nurse, this isnot to be wondered at. The mothers arethoroughly domestic and devoted totheir home duties, far more so than the

generality of the same class at home.An English lady, with even an extremelymoderate income, would look upon hercolonial sister as very hard-workedindeed. The children cannot beentrusted entirely to the care of anignorant girl, and the poor mother hasthem with her all day long; if she goesout to pay visits (the only recognizedsocial duty here), she has to take theelder children with her, but this earlyintroduction into society does notappear to polish the young visitors'manners in the least. There is not muchrest at night for the mater-familias withthe inevitable baby, and it is of coursevery difficult for her to be correctingsmall delinquents all day long; so they

grow up with what manners naturegives them. There seems to me,however, to be a greater amount of realdomestic happiness out here than athome: perhaps the want of places ofpublic amusement may have somethingto do with this desirable state of affairs,but the homes seem to be thoroughlyhappy ones. A married man is an objectof envy to his less fortunate brethren,and he appears anxious to show that heappreciates his good fortune. As forscandal, in the ordinary acceptation ofthe word, it is unknown; gossip there isin plenty, but it generally refers to eachother's pecuniary arrangements ortrifling peculiarities, and is all harmlessenough. I really believe that the life

most people lead here is as simple andinnocent as can well be imagined. Eachfamily is occupied in providing for itsown little daily wants and cares, whichsupplies the mind and body withhealthy and legitimate employment, andyet, as my experience tells me, they haveplenty of leisure to do a kind turn for aneighbour. This is the bright side ofcolonial life, and there is more to besaid in its praise; but thecounterbalancing drawback is, that thepeople seem gradually to lose the senseof larger and wider interests; they havelittle time to keep pace with the generalquestions of the day, and anything likesympathy or intellectual appreciation isvery rare. I meet accomplished people,

but seldom well-read ones; there is alsotoo much talk about money: "where thetreasure is, there will the heart be also;"and the incessant financial discussionsare wearisome, at least to me.

Letter X: Our station home.

Broomielaw, July 1866. We are now inmid-winter, and a more deliciousseason cannot well be imagined; theearly mornings and evenings and thenights are very cold, but the hours from10 A.M. till 5 P.M. are exquisitely bright,and quite warm. We are glad of a fire atbreakfast, which is tolerably early, but

we let it out and never think ofrelighting it until dark. Above all, it iscalm: I congratulate myself daily on thestillness of the atmosphere, but Flaughs and says, "Wait until the spring."I bask all day in the verandah, carryingmy books and work there soon afterbreakfast; as soon as the sun goesdown, however, it becomes very cold.In an English house you would hardlyfeel it, but with only one plank an inchthick, a lining-board and canvas andpaper, between you and a hard frost, agood fire is wanted. We burn coalfound twelve miles from this; it is notvery good, being only what is called"lignite." I don't know if that conveysto you a distinct impression of what it

really is. I should say it was a better sortof turf: it smoulders just in the sameway, and if not disturbed will remainmany hours alight; it requires a log ofdry wood with it to make a really goodblaze. Fuel is most difficult to get here,and very expensive, as we have noavailable "bush" on the Run; so wehave first to take out a licence forcutting wood in the Government bush,then to employ men to cut it, and hire adrayman who possesses a team ofbullocks and a dray of his own, tofetch it to us: he can only take twojourneys a day, as he has four miles totravel each way, so that by the time thewood is stacked it costs us at least thirtyshillings a cord, and then there is the

labour of sawing and cutting it up. Thecoal costs us one pound a ton at themouth of the pit, and the carriageexactly doubles its price; besides whichit is impossible to get more, than asmall quantity at a time, on account ofthe effect of the atmosphere on it.Exposure to the air causes it to crumbleinto dust, and although we keep oursupply in a little shed for the purpose, itis wasted to the extent of at least aquarter of each load. We are unusuallyunfortunate in the matter of firing;most stations have a bush near to thehomestead, or greater facilities fordraying than we possess.

You tell me to describe my little house

to you, so I must try to make you see it,only prefacing my attempt by warningyou not to be disgusted ordisappointed at any shortcomings. Thehouse has not been built in a prettysituation, as many other things had tobe considered before a picturesque site:first it was necessary to build on a flat(as the valleys here are called), not toofar off the main track, on account ofhaving to make the road to it ourselves;the next thing to be thought of wasshelter from the north-west wind; thenthe soil must be fit for a garden, and agood creek, or brook, which would notgo dry in the summer, close at hand. Atpresent, everything out of doors is sounfinished that the place looks rather

desolate, and it will be some yearsbefore our plantations can attain arespectable size, even allowing for therapid growth in this climate. The firststep is to obtain shelter from ourenemy the "nor'-wester," and for thispurpose we have planted quantities ofbroom in all directions; even the largebeds for vegetables in the garden have ahedge of Cape broom on the exposedside; fortunately, the broom grows veryquickly in spite of the wind, and attainsto a luxuriant beauty rarely seen inEngland. We have put in many othertrees, such as oaks, maples, etc., but notone is higher than this table, except afew poplars; the ground immediatelyoutside the house has been dug up, and

is awaiting the spring to be sown withEnglish grass; we have no attempt at aflower-garden yet, but have devotedour energies to the vegetable one,putting in fruit trees, preparingstrawberry and asparagus beds, andother useful things. Out of doorsmatters would not even be as faradvanced towards a garden andplantation as they are if we hadcommenced operations ourselves, butthe ground has been worked since lastyear. I am glad we have chosen to buildour house here instead of at thehomestead two miles off; for I like tobe removed from the immediateneighbourhood of all the work of thestation, especially from that of the

"gallows," a high wooden frame fromwhich the carcases of the butcheredsheep dangle; under the presentarrangement the shepherd brings usover our mutton as we want it.

Inside the house everything iscomfortable and pretty, and, above allthings, looks thoroughly home-like.Out of the verandah you pass througha little hall hung with whips and sticks,spurs and hats, and with a bookcasefull of novels at one end of it, into adining-room, large enough for us, withmore books in every available corner,the prints you know so well on thewalls, and a trophy of Indian swordsand hunting-spears over the fireplace:

this leads into the drawing-room, abright, cheery little room more booksand pictures, and a writing-table in the"horiel." In that tall, white, classical-shaped vase of Minton's which youhelped me to choose is the mostbeautiful bouquet, made entirely offerns; it is a constant object for mywalks up the gullies, exploring littlepatches of bush to search for the ferns,which grow abundantly under theirshelter by the creek. I have a small butcomfortable bedroom, and there is alittle dressing-room for F and thetiniest spare room you ever saw; it reallyis not bigger than the cabin of a ship. Ithink the kitchen is the chief glory ofthe house, boasting a "Leamington

range" a luxury quite unknown in theseparts, where all the cooking is done onan American stove, a very good thing inits way, but requiring to be constantlyattended to. There is a good-sizedstoreroom, in which F has just finishedputting me up some cupboards, and aservants' room. It is not a palace is itBut it is quite large enough to hold agreat deal of happiness. Outside, thepremises are still more diminutive; alittle wash-house stands near thekitchen door, and further up theenclosure is a stable, and a small roomnext it for saddles, and a fowl-houseand pig-stye, and a coal-shed. Now youknow everything about mysurroundings; but there is always a but

in everything I have one greatgrievance, and I hope you willappreciate its magnitude.

It was impossible for F to come uphere when the house was firstcommenced, and the wretch of abuilder deliberately put the drawing-and dining-room fireplaces in thecorner, right up against the partitionwall, of course utterly destroying thecomfort as well as the symmetry of therooms. I am convinced some economyof bricks is at the bottom of thisarrangement, especially as the housewas built by contract; but the builderpretends to be surprised that I don'tadmire it, and says, "Why, it's so

oncommon, mum!" I assure you, whenI first saw the ridiculous appearance ofthe drawing-room pier-glass in thecorner, I should liked to have screamedout at the builder (like the Queen in"Alice in Wonderland"), "Cut off hishead!"

When we were packing up the things tocome here, our friends expressed theirastonishment at our taking so many ofthe little elegancies of life, such asdrawing-room ornaments, pictures, etc.Now it is a great mistake not to bringsuch things, at all events a few of them,for they are not to be bought here, andthey give the new home a certainlikeness to the old one which is always

delightful. I do not advise people tomake large purchases of elegancies fora colonial life, but a few pretty littletrifles will greatly improve the look ofeven a New Zealand up-countrydrawing-room.

You have asked me also about ourwardrobes. Gentlemen wear just whatthey would on a Scotch or Englishfarm; in summer they require perhaps alighter hat, and long rides are alwaystaken in boots and breeches. A ladywears exactly what would be suitable inthe country in England, except that Ishould advise her to eschew muslin; thecountry outside the home paddock istoo rough for thin material; she also

wants thick boots if she is a goodwalker, and I find nails or little screwsin the soles a great help for hill-walking.A hat is my only difficulty: you reallywant a shady hat for a protectionagainst the sun, but there are very fewdays in the year on which you can ridein anything but a close, small hat, withhardly any brim at all, and even thismust have capabilities of being firmlyfastened on the head. My nice, wide-brimmed Leghorn hangs idly in thehall: there is hardly a morning stillenough to induce me to put it on evento go and feed my chickens or potterabout the garden. This being winter, Ilive in a short linsey dress, which is justright as to warmth, and not heavy. It is

a mistake to bring too much: a year'ssupply will be quite enough; freshmaterial can easily be procured inChristchurch or any of the large towns,or sent out by friends. I find mysewing-machine the greatest possiblecomfort, and as time passes on and myclothes need remodelling it will be stillmore use ful. Hitherto I have used itchiefly for my friends' benefit; whilst Iwas in town I constantly had littlefrocks brought to me to tuck, and hereI employ it in making quilted cloth hatsfor my gentlemen neighbours.

Letter XI: Housekeeping, and other

matters.

Broomielaw, September 1866. I amwriting to you at the end of a fortnightof very hard work, for I have just gonethrough my first experience in changingservants; those I brought up with mefour months ago were nice, tidy girlsand as a natural consequence of theseattractive qualities they have both leftme to be married. I sent them down toChristchurch in the dray, and madearrangements for two more servants toreturn in the same conveyance at theend of a week. In the meantime we hadto do everything for ourselves, and onthe whole we found this picnic lifegreat fun. The household consists,

besides F and me, of a cadet, as theyare called he is a clergyman's sonlearning sheep-farming under ourauspices and a boy who milks the cowsand does odd jobs out of doors. Wewere all equally ignorant of practicalcookery, so the chief responsibilityrested on my shoulders, and cost mesome very anxious moments, I assureyou, for a cookery-book is after all buta broken reed to lean on in a realemergency; it starts by assuming that itsunhappy student possesses aknowledge of at least the rudiments ofthe art, whereas it ought not to disdainto tell you whether the water in whichpotatoes are to be boiled should be hotor cold. I must confess that some of

my earliest efforts were both curiousand nasty, but E ate my numerousfailures with the greatest good-humour;the only thing at which he made a wryface was some soup into which a largelump of washing-soda hadmysteriously conveyed itself; and I alsohad to undergo a good deal of "chaff"about my first omelette, which was ofthe size and consistency of a roly-polypudding. Next to these failures I thinkthe bread was my greatest misfortune; itwent wrong from the first. One night Ihad prepared the tin dish full of flour,made a hole in the midst of the softwhite heap, and was about to pour in acupful of yeast to be mixed with warmwater (you see I know all about it in

theory), when a sudden panic seizedme, and I was afraid to draw the corkof the large champagne bottle full ofyeast, which appeared to be very much"up." In this dilemma I went for F .You must know that he possesses suchextraordinary and revolutionarytheories on the subject of cooking, thatI am obliged to banish him from thekitchen altogether, but on this occasionI thought I should be glad of hisassistance. He came with the greatestalacrity; assured me he knew all aboutit, seized the big bottle, shook itviolently, and twitched out the cork:there was a report like a pistol-shot,and all my beautiful yeast flew up tothe ceiling of the kitchen, descending

in a shower on my head; and F turnedthe bottle upside down over the flour,emptying the dregs of the hops andpotatoes into my unfortunate bread.However, I did not despair, but mixedit up according to the directions given,and placed it on the stove; but, as itturned out, in too warm a situation, forwhen I went early the next morning tolook at it, I found a very dry and crustymass. Still, nothing daunted, Ipersevered in the attempt, added moreflour and water, and finally made it upinto loaves, which I deposited in theoven. That bread never baked! I tried itwith a knife in the orthodox manner,always to find that it was raw inside.The crust gradually became several

inches thick, but the inside remaineddamp, and turned quite black at last; Ibaked it until midnight, and then I gaveit up and retired to bed in deep disgust.I had no more yeast and could not tryagain, so we lived on biscuits andpotatoes till the dray returned at theend of the week, bringing, however,only one servant. Owing to someconfusion in the drayman'sarrangements, the cook had been leftbehind, and "Meary," the new arrival,professed her willingness to supply herplace; but on trial being made of herabilities, she proved to be quite asinexperienced as I was; and to each dishI proposed she should attempt, theunvarying answer was, "The missis did

all that where I come from." During thefirst few days after her arrival her chiefemployment was examining the variousknick-knacks about the drawing-room;in her own department she was greatlytaken with the little cottage mangle. Shemangled her own apron about twentytimes a day, and after each attempt Ifound her contemplating it with herhead on one side, and saying to herself,"'Deed, thin, it's as smooth as smooth;how iver does it do it " A few days laterthe cook arrived. She is not all I couldwish, being also Irish, and having themost extraordinary notions of the use,or rather the abuse, of the variouskitchen implements: for instance, shewill poke the fire with the toasting fork,

and disregards my gentle hints aboutthe poker; but at all events she can bothroast mutton and bake bread. "Meary"has been induced to wash her face andbraid up her beautiful hair, and nowshines forth as a very pretty good-humoured girl. She is as clever andquick as possible, and will in time be acapital housemaid. She has taken it intoher head that she would like to be a"first-rater," as she calls it, and worksdesperately hard in the prosecution ofher new fancy.

I have never told you of the Sundayservices we established here from thefirst week of our arrival. There is nochurch nearer than those in

Christchurch, nor I may mentionparenthetically is there a doctor withinthe same distance. As soon as ourchairs and tables were in their properplaces, we invited our shepherds andthose neighbours immediately aroundus to attend service on Sundayafternoon at three o'clock. F officiatesas clergyman; my duties resemble thoseof a beadle, as I have to arrange thecongregation in their places, see thatthey have Prayer-books, etc. Wheneverwe go out for a ride, we turn ourhorses' heads up some beautiful valley,or deep gorge of a river, in search ofthe huts of our neighbours' shepherds,that we may tell the men of theseservices and invite them to attend. As

yet, we have met with no refusals, but itwill give you an idea of the scantinessof our population when I tell you that,after all our exertions, the "outsiders"only amount to fourteen, and of theseat least half are gentlemen fromneighbouring stations. With thisnumber, in addition to our own smallgroup, we consider that we form quitea respectable gathering. Thecongregation all arrive on horseback,each attended by at least two big colleydogs; the horses are turned into thepaddock, the saddles deposited in theback verandah, and the dogs lie quietlydown by their respective masters'equipments until they are ready to starthomewards. There is something very

wild and touching in these Sundayservices. If the weather is quite clearand warm, they are held in theverandah; but unless it is a very sunnyafternoon, it is too early in the year yetfor this.

The shepherds are a very fine class ofmen as a rule, and I find them mostintelligent; they lead solitary lives, andare fond of reading; and as I amanxious to substitute a better sort ofliterature in their huts than the tatteredyellow volumes which generally formtheir scanty library, I lend them booksfrom my own small collection. But, as Iforesee that this supply will soon beexhausted, we have started a Book

Club, and sent to London for twentypounds' worth of books as a firstinstalment. We shall get them second-hand from a large library, so I hope toreceive a good boxful. The clubconsists of twenty-eight members now,and will probably amount to thirty-two,which is wonderful for this district. Atthe close of a year from the firstdistribution of the books they are to bedivided into lots as near as possible invalue to a pound each, the parcels to benumbered, and corresponding figureswritten on slips of paper, which are tobe shaken up in a hat and drawn atrandom, each member claiming theparcel of which the number answers tothat on his ticket. This is the fairest way

I can think of for the distribution, andevery one seems satisfied with thescheme. The most popular books arethose of travel or adventure; unless anovel is really very good indeed, theydo not care about it.

The last little item of home news withwhich I must close this month's budgetis, that F has been away for a few dayson a skating excursion. A rather distantneighbour of ours called on his way upto the station far back among the hills,and gave such a glowing account of thecondition of the ice in that part of thecountry, that F , who is very fond ofthe amusement, was persuaded toaccompany him. Our friend is the son

of the Bishop, and owns a large stationabout twenty-six miles from this. At theback of his run the hills rise to a greatheight, and nestled among them lie achain of lakes, after the largest ofwhich (Lake Coleridge) Mr. H 's stationis named. On one of the smaller lakes,called by the classical name of "Ida,"the ice attains to a great thickness; for itis surrounded by such lofty hills thatduring the winter months the sunhardly touches it, and it is commonlyreported that a heavily-laden bullock-dray could cross it in perfect safety. Fwas away nearly a week, and appears tohave enjoyed himself thoroughly,though it will seem to you more ofhard work than amusement; for he and

Mr. H , and some other gentlemen whowere staying there, used to mountdirectly after breakfast, with their skatestied to their saddle-bow, and ride twelvemiles to Lake Ida, skate all through theshort winter's day, lunching at thesolitary hut of a gentleman-farmerclose by the lake, and when it grewdusk riding home again. The gentlemenin this country are in such goodtraining through constant exercise, thatthey appear able to stand any amountof fatigue without minding it.

Letter XII: My first expedition.

Broomielaw, October 1866. This oughtto be early spring, but the weather isreally colder and more disagreeablethan any which winter brought us; and,proverbially fickle as spring sunshineand showers are in England, ours is afar more capricious and trying season.Twice during this month have I been avictim to these sudden changes ofclimate; on the first occasion it wasmost fortunate that we had reached theshelter of a friendly and hospitableroof, for it was three days before wecould re-cross the mountain-passwhich lay between us and home. Onebeautiful spring morning F asked me ifI would like to ride across the hills, andpay my first visit to some kind and old

friends of his, who were among theearliest arrivals in the province, andwho have made a lovely home forthemselves at the foot of a great Bushon the other side of our range. I wasdelighted at the idea, for I have hadvery little opportunity of going aboutsince we came here, owing to the shortwinter days and the amount ofoccupation at home consequent on anew establishment.

Directly after breakfast, the horses werecaught and saddled, and we started inhigh spirits. As we rode up the long,sunny valley stretching away for miles atthe back of the house, F pointed out tome, with all a sheep-farmer's pride, the

hundreds of pretty little curly-fleecedlambs skipping about the low hill-sides.After we passed our own boundaryfence we came upon a very bad track,this is the name by which all roads arecalled, and they do not deserve a better,but it was the only path to ourdestination. The air was mild andbalmy, and the sun shone brightly as weslowly picked our way across bogs andcreeks, and up and down steep, slipperyhill-sides; but just as we reached thelowest saddle of the range andprepared to descend, a cold wind metus. In an instant the sunshine wasoverclouded, and F , pointing to a greybank of cloud moving quickly towardsus, said, "There is a tremendous sou'-

wester coming up; we had better pushon for shelter, or you'll be drowned:"but, alas! at each step the road grewworse and worse; where it was level theground was literally honeycombed withdeep holes half full of water, and atlast we came to a place where the horsehad to descend a flight of stone steps,each step being extremely slippery andsome way below the other; and at thebottom of this horrible staircase therewas a wide jump to be taken, the springbeing off the lowest step, and the jumpupwards alighting on a steep bank upwhich the horses scrambled like cats.Getting wet through appeared to me avery minor evil compared to thedangers of such a road, but F urged me

forward, with assurances that the horseknew the path perfectly well and couldcarry me at a gallop quite safely; but itwas impossible to infuse sufficientcourage into my drooping heart toinduce me to go faster than a walk.

All this time the storm drew rapidlynearer, the wind blew in icy cold gusts,the hail came down in large stones,pelting our faces till they tingled again;it was nearly an hour before we rode upto the hospitable, ever-open porch doorof Rockwood. I was immediately liftedoff my saddle by kind and strong arms,and carried with frozen limbs andstreaming habit into the kitchen, for Iwas as unfit for the drawing-room as

my own water-spaniel. A blazing woodfire was hastily lighted in one of thebed-rooms, and thither the goodhostess conveyed me. I emerged fromthat apartment the most extraordinaryfigure you ever saw. Imagine me arrayedin a short and very wide crinoline, overwhich was a bright-coloured linseypetticoat; an old pilot-coat for a jacket,huge carpet slippers on my feet, and mydripping hair hanging loose over myshoulders! I assure you, I looked likethe portraits in books of travel, of theTahitian women when they firstassumed clothes; and the worst of itwas, that I had to remain in thiscostume for three whole days. Toreturn was impossible, the storm from

the S.W. raged all that evening. Whenwe opened our eyes next morning,snow was lying some inches deep, andstill falling fast; there was no cessationfor forty-eight hours, and then we hadto give it time to thaw a little, so that itwas Sunday morning before we startedon our homeward ride. In themeantime, nothing could afford agreater contrast to the wild weather outof doors than the snug brightnesswithin. Blazing logs of pine and blackbirch made every room warm andcheery; all day we chatted and amusedourselves in different ways (I learned tomake a capital pudding, and acquaintedmyself with the mysteries of "junket");in the evenings we had whist for an

hour, and then either round games orsongs. The young men of the househave nice voices and a great feeling formusic, and some of the trios and gleeswent very well indeed. The only thingwhich spoilt my enjoyment was theconstantly recurring remembrance ofthat terrible road. F tried to comfort meby assurances that the snow would havefilled up the worst places so much thatI should not see them, but, strange tosay, I failed to derive any consolationfrom that idea; however, weaccomplished the journey back safely,but with many slips and slides. As soonas we came on our own run, F began tolook out for dead lambs, butfortunately there were not many for

him to mourn over; they must havetaken shelter under the low hills, toleeward of the storm.

The second ride was much longer, andif possible a more disagreeable one. Itbegan just in the same way; we wereagain decoyed out by sunshine and softair for a ride round the run, startingabout half-past ten. The scenery wasbeautiful, and we enjoyed ourselvesimmensely. The track lay along our ownboundary fence most of the way, andwe had ridden about ten miles, whenwe stopped at one of our shepherds'huts, technically called an out station,and accepted his offer of luncheon. Hegave us capital tea, with an egg beaten

up in it as a substitute for milk, coldmutton, bread, and a cake; the reasonof these unwonted luxuries was that hekept fowls, and I was very jealous atseeing two broods of chickens out,whilst mine are still in the shell. Thisman is quite an artist, and the walls ofhis but were covered with bold pen-and-ink sketches, chiefly reminiscencesof the hunting-field in England, or hisown adventures "getting out" wildcattle on the Black Hills in the north ofthe province: he leads an extremely-solitary existence, his dogs being hisonly companions; his duties consist inriding daily a boundary down the gorgeof the river, which he has to cross andre-cross many times: and he has to

supply the home station and our housewith mutton, killing four or five sheepa week. He is employed out of doorsall day, but has plenty of time in theevenings for reading I found him well-informed and intelligent, and heexpresses himself exceedingly well. Werested here an hour, and as we wentoutside and prepared to mount, F said,"I really believe there is another sou'-wester coming up," and so there was:we could not go fast, for we wereriding over a dry river-bed, composedentirely of loose large stones. Every fewhundred yards we had to cross the riverSelwyn, which was rising rapidly, as thestorm had been raging in themountains long before it reached us; on

each side were high, steep hills, and insome places the river filled up the gorgeentirely, and we had to ride in the waterup to our saddle-girths. All this timethe rain was coming down in sheets,but the wind grew colder and colder; atlast the rain turned into snow, whichspeedily changed us and our horsesinto white moving figures. Eight longweary miles of this had we, only able totrot the last two, and those over veryswampy ground. In your country asevere cold would probably have beenthe least evil of this escapade, but hereno such consequence follow a goodwetting; the houses are so little realprotection from the weather, that youare forced to live as it were in the open

air, whether you like it or not, and thishardens the constitution so much, thatit is not easy to take cold from a littleextra exposure. Men are apt to becareless and remain in their wet things,or stand before a fire till their clothesdry on them; and whenever I scold anyone for being foolish, he alwaysacknowledges that if he does butchange when he comes into a house, henever catches cold from any amount ofexposure to the severest weather.

Letter XIII: Bachelor hospitality. a galeon shore.

Broomielaw, November 1866. We havelately made a much longer excursionthan those I told you of last, month,and this time have been fortunate inmeeting with fine weather above all,our expedition has been over perfectlylevel ground, and on a good "track,"which has greatly increased its charmsin my eyes. A fortnight ago earlysummer set fairly in, and some bachelorneighbours took advantage of thechange to ride over to see us, andarrange a plan for the following week.It all fitted in nicely, for F was obligedto go to Christchurch at that time, andthe first idea of the expeditionoriginated in my saying how dull I wasat the station when he was away. I can

get on very well all day; with my variousemployments feeding the chickens,taking the big dogs out for a walk, andso on: but after the house is quiet andsilent for the night, and the servantshave gone to bed, a horrible lonelyeerie feeling comes over me; thesolitude is so dreary, and the silence sointense, only broken occasionally by thewild, melancholy cry of the weka.However, I am very rarely tried in thisway, and when I am it can't be helped,if that is any consolation.

I forget whether I told you that we leftall "evening things," and other toilettenecessaries which would not be wantedup country, behind us in Christchurch,

so as to avoid the trouble of sendingany luggage backwards or forwards. Itis necessary to mention this, to accountfor the very light marching order inwhich we travelled. It was a lovelysummer morning on which we lefthome, meaning to be away nearly aweek, from Monday till Saturday. Wewere well mounted, and all our luggageconsisted of my little travelling-bagfastened to the pommel of my saddle,containing our brushes and combs, andwhat is termed a "swag" in front of F 'ssaddle; that is, a long narrow bundle, inthis instance enclosed in a neatwaterproof case, and fastened with twostraps to the "D's," which are steelloops let in in four places to all colonial

saddles, for the purpose of carryingblankets, etc.; they derive their nameapparently from their resemblance tothe letter. In this parcel our mostindispensable garments were tightlypacked. We cantered gaily along on theway to Christchurch, the horsesappearing to enjoy the delicious air andsoft springy turf as much as we did.There was a river and half-a-dozencreeks to be crossed; but they are allquite low at this time of year. As westood in one of them to let the horsesdrink and cool their legs, I saw a hugeeel hidden under the shadow of a highoverhanging bank, waiting till theevening to come out and feed upon themyriads of flies and little white moths

that skim over the surface of the water.

It is considered a great advantage to ourstation that there is only the riverSelwyn (of which the Maori name isthe Wai-kiri-kiri) between us and town,not only for our own convenience, butbecause it is easy to take sheep across it,and it offers no difficulties to the wooldrays. This river has a very goodreputation, and is very rarely dangerousto cross; whereas the Rakaia and theRangitata towards the south, and theWaimakiriri towards the north, ofChristchurch, are most difficult, andalways liable to sudden freshes. Thegeneral mode of crossing the largerrivers is by a boat, with the horse

swimming behind; but accidentsconstantly occur from thefoolhardiness of people attempting toford them alone on horseback: they arelost in quicksands, or carried down bythe current, before they can even realizethat they are in danger. The commonsaying in New Zealand is, that peopleonly die from drowning anddrunkenness. I am afraid the former isgenerally the result of the latter.

From the first our road lay with ourbacks to the hills; but as we canteredalong the plains, I was often obliged toturn round and admire their grandoutlines. The highest ranges were stillsnow-white, and made a magnificent

background against the summer sky.An easy twelve miles' ride brought us toa charming little station, called by thepretty native name of Waireka; herelived our three bachelor hosts, and anicer or more comfortable home in adistant land could not be desired. Thehouse has been built for some years,consequently the plantations about itand the garden have grown up well,and the willows, gum-trees, and poplarsshelter it perfectly, besides giving it sucha snug home look. It stands on a vastplain, without even an undulation ofthe ground near it; but the mountainsform a grand panoramic view. There isa large wide verandah round two sidesof the house, with French windows

opening into it; and I could not helpfeeling impatient to see my owncreepers in such luxuriant, beauty asthese roses and honeysuckles were. Itwas half amusing and half pathetic tonotice the preparations which had beenmade to receive a lady guest, and thegreat anxiety of my hosts to ensure mybeing quite as comfortable as I am athome. Much had been said beforehandabout the necessity of making up mymind to rough it in bachelor quarters,so I was surprised to find all sorts ofluxuries in my room, especially a daintylittle toilette-table, draped with whitecloths (a big wooden packing-case wasits foundation). Its ornaments were allsorts of nondescript treasures, placed

in boxes at the last moment of leavingthe English hall or rectory by carefulloving hands of mothers and sisters,and lying unused for years until now.There was a little china tray, which hadbeen slipped into some corner by achild-sister anxious to send somepossession of her "very own" out tothe other end of the world; there was avase with flowers; a parti-coloured pin-cushion of very gay silks, probably theparting gift of an old nurse; and acurious old-fashioned essence bottle,with eau-de-cologne; the surroundingcountry had been ransacked to procurea piece of scented soap. The only thingto remind me that I was not in anEnglish cottage was the opossum rug

with which the neat little bed wascovered. The sitting-room looked thepicture of cosy comfort, with its well-filled book-shelves, arm-chairs, sofawith another opossum rug thrown overit, and the open fireplace filled withferns and tufts of the white featheryTohi grass in front of the greenbackground. We enjoyed our luncheon,or rather early dinner, immensely afterour ride; and in the afternoon went outto see the nice large garden (such acontrast to our wretched littlebeginnings), and finally strolled on tothe inevitable wool-shed, where thegentlemen had an animated "sheeptalk." I rather enjoy these discussions,though they are prefaced by an apology

for "talking shop;" but it amuses me,and I like to see the samples of wool,which are generally handed about in theheat of a great argument, the longwhite locks are so glistening, and soft,and crinkly.

My five-o'clock tea was dulyremembered, and then, as there wasnothing more to see out of doorswithin a short distance, I proposed thatI should make a cake. The necessaryingredients were quickly collected. Ihad relays of volunteers to beat up theeggs, and though I suffered greatanxiety until it was cut at supper, itturned out satisfactorily. The worst ofmy cookery is, that while I always

follow the same directions mostcarefully, there is great uncertainty andvariety about the result. In the eveningwe played round games. But we allwent early to bed, as, we had to be upbetimes, and in the saddle by seveno'clock, to catch the 9-30 train atRolleston; twenty miles off. We had abeautiful, still morning for our ride,and reached the station a shed standingout on the plain in time to see ourhorses safely paddocked before thetrain started for Christchurch. Thedistance by rail was only fifteen miles,so we were not long about it; and wewalked to the hotel from the railway-station in the town. A bath andbreakfast were both very enjoyable, and

then F went out to transact hisbusiness, and I employed myself inunpacking and ironing a ball-dress for aparty, to which we were engaged thatevening. There was also another ball thefollowing night. The second was a verylate one, and we had scarcely an hour'ssleep before we were obliged to get upand start by the 6 A.M. train back toRolleston, where we remounted ourhorses and rode to dear little Waireka intime for breakfast. By the evening I wassufficiently rested to make anothercake, which also, happily, turned outwell.

We intended to return home the nextday (Friday), but a terrific "nor'-wester"

came on in the night, and it wasimpossible to stir out of the house; itwas the severest gale since our arrival,and it is hardly possible to give you acorrect idea of the force and fury ofthe wind. Not a glimpse of themountains was to be seen; a haze ofdust, as thick as any fog, shuteverything out. The sheep had all takenrefuge under the high banks of thecreeks. It is curious that sheep alwaysfeed head to wind in a nor'-west gale,whereas they will drift for miles beforea sou'-wester. The trees bent almost flatbefore the hot breath of this hurricane,and although the house was built ofcob, and its walls were very thick andsolid, the creaking and swaying of the

shingled roof kept me in perpetualalarm. The verandah was a greatprotection; and yet the small river-pebbles, of which the garden-walk wasmade, were dashed against thewindows like hailstones by each gust.We amused ourselves indoors by thestudy and composition of acrostics,and so got through an imprisonmentof two days, without a moment'scessation of the wind; but towardssunset on Saturday there were signs ofa lull, and about midnight the galedropped; and we heard the grateful,refreshing sound of soft andcontinuous rain, and when we cameout to breakfast on Sunday morningeverything looked revived again. It is a

most fortunate meteorological fact thatthese very high winds are generallysucceeded by heavy rain; everything isso parched and shrivelled up by themthat I do not know what wouldbecome of the vegetation otherwise.We held a council, to determine whathad better be done about returninghome, and finally decided to risk a wetride sooner than disappoint the littlecongregation; for should it prove a fineafternoon, those who lived near wouldcertainly come; so we mounted afterbreakfast.

I was wrapped in one of thegentlemen's macintoshes, and foundthe ride far from disagreeable. As we

neared our own station we began tolook out for signs of disaster; andabout half a mile from the house sawsome of the vanes from the chimneyson the track; a little nearer home, acrossthe path lay a large zinc chimney-pot;then another; and when we came closeenough to see the house distinctly, itlooked very much dwarfed without itschimneys. There had been a large pileof empty boxes at the back of thestable; these were all blown away in thegale. One huge packing-case was sailingtranquilly about on the pond, andplanks and fragments of zinc werestrewn over the paddock. The momentwe reached the house, Mr. U , thegentleman-cadet of whom I have told

you, came out, with a melancholy face,to tell me that a large wooden cage, fullof the canaries which I had broughtfrom England with me, had beenblown out of the verandah, though itwas on the most sheltered side of thehouse. It really seemed incredible atfirst, but the cage was lying in ruins inthe middle of the paddock, and all mybirds except one had disappeared. Ithappened in the middle of the night,and Mr. U described, very amusingly,that when he was awakened by thenoise which the cage made against awire fence (which it just "topped" inpassing), he sprang out of his bed inthe attic, and clambered out of thewindow, expecting to find the very

heavy sort of staircase-ladder in itsplace; but it was "over the hills and faraway," so he had a drop of abouttwelve feet to the ground, whichthoroughly aroused him. He went intothe verandah to see if the cage was safe,and was nearly knocked down by a bigtin bath, ordinarily kept there, whichwas just starting across country. Assoon as he missed the cage he verypluckily went after it, being able to keepsight of it by the fitful gleams ofmoon-light, and he was just in time torescue the poor little surviving canary.We could not help laughing at therecital of all the mischief which hadbeen done, but still it is very tiresome,and the garden looks, if possible, more

wretched than ever. There is no shelterfor it yet, and my poor green-peas areblown nearly out of the ground. Itrained hard all the evening, so ourcongregation was confined to the homeparty.

Letter XIV: A Christmas picnic, andother doings.

Broomielaw, December 1866. It is toolate to wish you a merry Christmas anda happy New Year in this letter. Inorder to allow them to reach you intime I should have sent my goodwishes in October's letter; I must

remember to do so next year. I amwriting on the last days of the month,so I shall be able to tell you of our ownChristmas doings; though, first, I mustdescribe the festivities attending a"coming of age in the Bush," to whichwe were invited about the middle ofthis month. How strange Christmaspicnics and balls will appear in youreyes, before which still dangle probablythe dear old traditional holly and ivy! Iam obliged to preface all mydescriptions with an account of a ride,if I am to begin, according to yourrepeated injunctions, at the verybeginning; for a ride is quite certain tobe both the beginning and end of eachexcursion, simply because we have no

other means of going about, except onour feet. The ride upon this occasionwas to Rockwood, where the birthdayparty was to assemble, but the road hadnot now so many terrors for me. Inconsequence of the fine dry weather,most of the bad places were safer andfirmer, and the numerous creeks wereonly shallow sparkling streamlets overwhich a child could jump, instead ofthe muddy noisy wide brooks of threemonths ago. The day on which westarted, this time, was a great contrast tothe former one. When we reached thesaddle I have before told you of,instead of being met and nearly drivenback by a violent "sutherly buster," westopped before beginning the steep

descent to admire the exquisite viewbefore us.

Close on our right hand rose theGovernment bush out of which we getour firewood, standing grand andgloomy amid huge cliffs and crags; eventhe summer sunshine could not enlivenit, nor the twitter and chirrup ofcountless birds. In front, the chain ofhills we were crossing rolled down ingradually decreasing hillocks, till theymerged in the vast plains before us,stretching away as far as the eye couldreach towards the south, all quiveringin the haze and glare of the brightsunlight. The background, extendingalong the horizon, was formed of lofty

mountains still glistening white againstthe dazzling blue sky. Just at our feetthe Rockwood paddocks looked likecarpets of emerald velvet, spread outamong the yellowish tussocks; thefences which enclose them were eithergolden with broom and gorse, or gaywith wild roses and honeysuckle.Beyond these we saw the bright patchesof flowers in the garden, and nothingcould be more effective than the whitegable of the house standing out againstthe vast black birch forest whichclothed the steep hill-sides for miles thecontrast was so picturesque betweenthe little bit of civilization and cultureand the great extent of wild, savagescenery around it. After the utter

treelessness of our own immediateneighbourhood, the sight of such amass of foliage is a joy to my eyes.

The day following our arrival was thebirthday, and we prepared to enjoyevery hour of it. The party assembledwas a very large one, consisting,however, chiefly of gentlemen, for theutmost exertions in the district couldnot produce more than five ladiesaltogether, and two of those had comean immense way. Directly afterbreakfast we all sallied forth, the ladiesequipped in light cotton dresses(muslin is too thin for the bush) andlittle sailor hats, we did not want shadyones, for never a gleam of sun can

penetrate into a real New ZealandBush, unless in a spot which has beenvery much cleared. Strong boots withnails in the soles, to help us to keep onour feet up the steep clay hill-sides, anda stout stick, completed our equipment;perhaps we were not very smart, but welooked like going at all events. I cananswer for myself that I enjoyed everymoment of that long Midsummerholiday most intensely, though I fear Imust have wearied our dear, charminghost, by my incessant questions aboutthe names of the trees and shrubs, andof the habits and ways of thethousands of birds. It was all so newand so delightful to me, the greengloom, the hoarse croak of the ka-ka,

as it alighted almost at our feet andprepared, quite careless of our vicinity,to tear up the loose soil at the root of atall tree, in search of grubs. It is aspecies of parrot, but with very dingyreddish-brown plumage, only slightlyenlivened by a few, scarlet feathers inthe wing. The air was gay with brightgreen parroquets flitting about, verymischievous they are, I am told, takinglarge tithe of the fruit, especially of thecherries. Every now and then we stood,by common consent, silent and almostbreathless to listen to the Bell-bird, adingy little fellow, nearly as large as athrush with the plumage of achaffinch, but with such a note! howcan I make you hear its wild, sweet,

plaintive tone, as a little girl of the partysaid, "just as if it had a bell in itsthroat;" but indeed it would require awhole peal of silver bells to ring suchan exquisite chime. Then we crept softlyup to a low branch, to have a goodlook at the Tui, or Parson-bird, mostrespectable and clerical-looking in itsglossy black suit, with a singularly trimand dapper air, and white wattles ofvery slender feathers indeed they are asfine as hair-curled coquettishly at eachside of his throat, exactly like bands.All the birds were quite tame, and,instead of avoiding us, seemed inclinedto examine us minutely. Many of themhave English names, which I foundvery tantalising, especially when, the

New Zealand Robin was announced,and I could only see a fat little ball of abird, with a yellowish-white breast.Animals there are none. No quadrupedis indigenous to New Zealand, except arat; but then, on the other hand, we areas free from snakes and all vermin as ifSt. Patrick himself had lived here. Ourhost has turned several pheasants intothis forest, but they increase very slowlyon account of the wekas. However, thehappiness of this morning was madecomplete by our putting up twosplendid rocketers.

We could only make our way by thepaths which have been cut through theBush; a yard off the track it is

impossible to stir for the denseundergrowth. In the ravines and steepgullies formed by the creeks growmasses of ferns of all sorts, spreadinglike large shrubs, and contrasting bytheir light bright green with the blackstems of the birch-trees around them.There are a few pines in this bush, butnot many. I can give you no idea of thevariety among the shrubs: thekoromika, like an Alpine rose, acompact ball of foliage; the lance-wood, a tall, slender stem, straight as aline, with a few long leaves at the top,turned downwards like the barb of aspear, and looking exactly like a lancestuck into the ground; the varieties ofmatapo, a beautiful shrub, each leaf a

study, with its delicate tracery of blackveins on a yellow-green ground; themappo, the gohi, and many others, anyof which would be the glory of anEnglish shrubbery: but they seem torequire the deep shelter of their nativeBush, for they never flourish whentransplanted. I noticed the slender thelarge trees have of the ground, and it isnot at all surprising, after such a gale aswe had three weeks ago, to see many ofthe finest blown down in the clearingswhere the wind could reach them. Theydo not seem to have any tap-root at all,merely a very insufficient network offibres, seldom of any size, whichspreads a short way along the surfaceof the ground As long as a Bush is

undisturbed by civilization, it appearsto be impervious to wind or weather;but as soon as it is opened and cleareda little, it begins to diminish rapidly.There are traces all over the hills of vastforests having once existed; chiefly oftotara, a sort of red pine, and thoseabout us are scattered with huge logsof this valuable wood, all bearing tracesof the action of fire; but shepherds,and explorers on expeditions, lookingfor country, have gradually consumedthem for fuel, till not many piecesremain except on the highest and mostinaccessible ranges.

It was a delightful, and by no meansunacceptable surprise which awaited us

on the other side, when, on emergingfrom a very thick part of the Bush, wecame on a lovely spot, a true "meetingof the waters." Three broad, brightcreeks came rushing and tumblingdown from the densely wooded hillsabout to join and flow on in quite agood-sized river, amid boulders and agreat deal of hurry and fuss, a contrastto the profound quiet of our ramblehitherto, the silence of which was onlybroken by the twitter and whistle ofthe birds. Never a song can you hear,only a sweet chirrup, or two or threemelodious notes. On the opposite bankof the river there was the welcomesight of several hampers more or lessunpacked, and the gleam of a white

tablecloth on the moss. Half-a-dozengentlemen had formed themselves intoa commissariat, and were arrangingluncheon. We could see the champagnecooling in a sort of little bay, protectedby a dam of big stones from beingcarried down the stream. It all lookedvery charming and inviting, but thenext question was how to get across theriver to these good things. Twelve orfourteen feet separated us, hungry andtired wanderers as we were, from foodand rest; the only crossing-place wassome miles lower down, near the housein fact; so even the most timid amongstus scouted the idea of retracing oursteps. The only alternative was to makea bridge: one of the gentlemen who

were with us carried an axe in case ofemergency, and in a moment we heardthe sharp ringing sounds foretelling thefall of a tree. In the mean-time, othersof the party were dragging out fallenlogs of course small and manageableones and laying them from one hugeboulder to another, working up to theirknees in water. So many of theseprostrate trunks were "convenient,"that a cry soon arose to the woodmanto "spare the trees," for there were quiteenough on the ground. However, twosubstantial poles had been felled, andthese were laid over the deepest andmost dangerous part of the current.The bridge was soon declared passable,and loud shouts from the opposite side

proclaimed that luncheon was quiteready. I was called, as having a mostundeserved reputation for "pluck," tomake trial of the aerial-looking fabric. Idid not like it at all, and entreated someone else to lead the forlorn hope; so avery quiet young lady, who reallypossessed more courage in her littlefinger than I do in my whole body,volunteered to go first. The effect fromthe bank was something like tight-ropedancing, and it was very difficult tokeep one's balance. Miss Kate, ourpioneer, walked on very steadily, amidgreat applause, till she reached themiddle of the stream, where fortunatelythe water was shallow, but strewed withmasses of boulders. She paused an

instant on the large rock on which theends of the saplings rested, and thenstarted afresh for the last half of herjourney. The instant she put her footon the second part of the bridge, itgave way with a loud crash; and thepoor girl, with great presence of mind,caught at the tree she, had just crossed,and so saved herself from a ducking.Of course, she had plenty of help in aninstant, but the difficulty was to regainany sort of footing. She could not dropinto the water, and there was apparentlyno way of dragging herself up again;but one of the gentlemen crept onhands and knees along the unbrokenpart of the bridge, and eventuallyhelped her up the sides of the large

boulder which acted as a pier, and fromwhich the log had slipped. From theother side they now pushed across tall,slim trees, freshly cut, and the rest ofthe passage was safe enough. I did notlike the mode of transit at all, though Igot over without a slip, but it requires asteady head to cross a noisy stream ontwo slippery round poles for really thetrees were little thicker laid side by side,bending with every step. It was a greatcomfort to me all luncheon-time toknow that we were not to return by thesame path through the Bush. We had agood rest after lunch: I lay back on abed of fern, watching the numbers oflittle birds around us; they boldlypicked up our crumbs, without a

thought of possible danger. Presently Ifelt a tug at the shawl on which I waslying: I was too lazy and dreamy to turnmy head, so the next thing was a sharpdig on my arm, which hurt medreadfully. I looked round, and therewas a weka bent on thoroughlyinvestigating the intruder into itsdomain. The bird looked so cool andunconcerned, that I had not the heartto follow my first impulse and throwmy stick at it; but my forbearance waspresently rewarded by a stab on theankle, which fairly made me jump upwith a scream, when my persecutorglided gracefully away among thebushes, leaving me, like Lord Ullin,"lamenting."

We sauntered home slowly, gatheringarmfuls of, fern and a large variety of astag's-head moss so common on thewest coast of Scotland; and as soon aswe had had some tea, the gentlemenwent off with their towels to bathe inthe creek, and the five ladies set to workat the decorations for the ball-room,weaving wreaths and arrangingenormous bouquets very rapidly: wehad such a wealth of flowers to workwith that our task was not difficult. Themost amusing part of the story is,however, that the ball took place in mybed-room! A very pompous lady of myacquaintance always prefaces theslenderest anecdote with these words,

"And it happened in this wise," so Ithink I shall avail myself of the tour dephrase.

It happened in this wise, then:-a largewell-proportioned room had beenadded to the house lately; it wasintended for a drawing-room, but forsome reason has only been used as aspare bed-room, but as it may possiblyreturn to its original destination, verylittle bed-room furniture has been putin it, and many of its belongings areappropriate to a sitting-room. We calledin the servants, the light cane bedsteadwas soon deposited under the shade ofa tree in the garden, the washing-standwas similarly disposed of, and an hour's

work with hammer and nails and a ballof string turned the room into a perfectbower of ferns and flowers: greatingenuity was displayed in thearrangement of lights, and the resultwas a very pretty ball-room.

We are always eating in this country, soyou will not be surprised to hear thatthere was yet another meal to bedisposed of before we separated todress in all sorts of nooks and corners.White muslin was the universalcostume, as it can be packed flat andsmooth. My gown had been carriedover by F in front of his saddle in avery small parcel: I covered it almostentirely with sprays of the light-green

stag's-head, moss, and made a wreathof it also for my hair. I think that withthe other ladies roses were the mostpopular decoration, and they lookedvery fresh and nice. I was the universalcoiffeuse, and I dressed all the girls' headswith flowers, as I was supposed to bebest up in the latest fashions. In themeantime, the piano had been movedto the bay-window of the ball-room,and at ten o'clock dancing commenced,and may be truly said to have been keptup with great spirit until four o'clock: itonly ceased then on account of thestate of exhaustion of the unfortunatefive ladies, who had been nearly killedwith incessant dancing. I threw a shawlover my head, and sauntered alone up

one of the many paths close to thehouse which led into the Bush. Tired asI was, I shall never forget the beautyand romance of that hour, the deliciouscrisp new feeling of the morning air; thevery roses, growing like a red fringe onthe skirts of the great Bush, seemedawaking to fresh life and perfume; thenumbers of gay lizards and fliescoming out for their morning meal,and, above all, the first awakening ofthe myriads of Bush-birds; everyconceivable twitter and chatter andchirrup; the last cry of a very prettylittle owl, called, from its distinctlyuttered words, the "More-pork," as itflitted away before the dawn to thehighest trees: all made up a jubilant

uproar compared to which one of theCrystal Palace choruses is silence. I satdown on a fallen tree, and listened andwaited: every moment added to thelovely dawn around me, and I enjoyedto the full the fragrant smells andjoyous sounds of another day in thisfresh young land.

All too soon came a loud "coo-ee"from the house, which I allowed themto repeat before I answered; this was totell me that the ball-room was deserted,and had been again turned into a bed-room. When I opened my eyes later,after a six hours' nap, the room lookedlike a fairy bower, the flowers stillunfaded. We had another picnic the

next day up the gorge of a river, amidvery wild and beautiful scenery; buteverything had been arranged so as tomake the expedition an easy one, outof consideration to the weary five. Theday after this we rode home again, andI had to set to work directly to preparefor my own Christmas party to theshepherds and shearers, for we havejust commenced to muster the sheep,and the shearing will be in full force byChristmas Day. One great object I havein view in giving this party is to preventthe shearers from going over to thenearest accommodation-house andgetting tipsy, as they otherwise would;so I have taken care to issue myinvitations early. I found great difficulty

in persuading some of the men toaccept, as they had not brought any tidyclothes with them; and as the otherswould be decently, indeed well dressed,they did not like putting in a shabbyappearance. This difficulty wasobviated by F hunting up some of thethings he had worn on the voyage, andrigging-out the invited guests. For twodays before the great day I had beenworking hard, studying recipes for piesand puddings, and scouring thecountry in search of delicacies. Everylady was most kind, knowing that ourpoor, exposed garden was backward; Ihad sacks of green peas, bushels ofyoung potatoes, and baskets ofstrawberries and cherries sent to me

from all round the country; I madepoor F ride twenty miles to get me asirloin of beef, and, to my great joy, twobeautiful young geese arrived as apresent only the day before. It is a pointof honour to have as little mutton aspossible on these occasions, as the greattreat is the complete change of fare. Ionly ventured to introduce it very muchdisguised as curry, or in pies. We wereall up at daylight on Christmasmorning, and off to the nearest littlecopse in one of the gullies, where a fewshrubs and small trees and ferns grow,to gather boughs for the decoration ofthe washhouse. Marvels were done inthe carpentering line to arrange tablesaround its walls. The copper, which at

first presented such an obstacle to thesymmetry of the adornments, becametheir chief glory; it was boarded over,its sides completely hidden by flags andferns, and the dessert placed on itpeeped out from a bower of greenery. Idon't know how we got our ownbreakfast; from eleven o'clock there wasthe constant announcement "Ahorseman coming up the flat;" and bytwelve, when I as beadle announcedthat all was ready, a large congregationof thirty-six came trooping into mylittle drawing-room. As soon as it wasfilled the others clustered round thedoor; but all could hear, I think. Fbegan the service; and as the notes ofthe Christmas Anthem swelled up, I

found the tears trembling in my eyes.My overwhelming thought was that itactually was the very first time thosewords had ever been sung or said inthat valley you in England can hardlyrealize the immensity of such a thought"the first time since the world wasmade." I think the next sensation wasone of extreme happiness; it seemedsuch a privilege to be allowed to holdthe initial Christmas service. I had tograsp this idea very tight to keep downthe terrible home-sickness which I feltall day for almost the first time. Thereare moments when no advantages orprivileges can repress what Aytoun calls"the deep, unutterable woe which nonesave exiles feel."

The service only lasted half an hour,beginning and ending with a hymn;there were three women present besidesme my two servants, and the nice youngwife of a neighbouring shepherd. Itwas a sultry day, not a breath of air; butstill it is never oppressive at thiselevation. We wound up a big musical-box, set it going in the banqueting-hall(late washhouse), and marshalled theguests in they were extremely shy as arule, and so we soon went away andleft them to themselves. They ateincessantly for two hours and I hopethey enjoyed themselves; then the menlounged about the stables and smoked,and the three women cleared away a

little. F and our gentlemen guests gotup athletic sports in the shade whichseemed very popular, though itappeared a great deal of trouble to takeon such a hot day. As the sun sankbelow the hills it grew much cooler,and my two maids came with ashamefaced request to be allowed todance in the kitchen. I inquired aboutthe music that was provided for by afiddle and some pipes; so I consented,but I found they wanted me to startthem. I selected as my partner a verydecent young farmer who lives near,but has left his farm and is at workbranding our sheep all shearing-time.The pride and delight of his mate wasmuch greater than my partner's; he

stood near his friend, prompting himthrough the mazes of the mostextraordinary quadrille you ever saw,with two extra figures. Then there wasan endless polka, in which everybodydanced, like Queen Elizabeth, "highand disposedly;" but the ball ended atnine o'clock, and we were given somecold dinner, for which we were all veryready. The next morning saw theremains of the festivity cleared away,and every one hard at work again; forthis is our very busiest season. Thework of the station, however, is carriedon at the homestead two miles off. F isthere all day long, but I see nothing ofit. While the shearers' hearts weretender, I asked them to come over to

church on Sunday, and they havepromised to do so: I lend themquantities of books and papers also, soas to keep them amused and away fromthe accommodation-house.

Letter XV: Everyday station life.

Broomielaw, January 1867. You tell meto describe our daily home-life anddomestic surroundings. I dare say it:will appear to be a monotonous andinsignificant existence enough whenput on paper, but it suits me exactly;and, for the first time in my life, I haveenough to do, and also the satisfaction

of feeling that I am of some little useto my fellow-creatures. A lady'sinfluence out here appears to be verygreat, and capable of indefiniteexpansion. She represents refinementand culture (in Mr. Arnold's sense ofthe words), and her footsteps on a newsoil such as this should be marked by atrail of light. Of course everyimprovement must be the work oftime, but I find my neighbours verywilling to help me in my attempts.

A few lines will be sufficient to sketch aday's routine. The first of my duties isone I especially delight in. I am out veryearly with a large tin dish of scrapsmixed with a few handfuls of wheat,

and my appearance is the signal for agreat commotion among all my fowlsand ducks and pigeons. Such waddlingand flying and running withoutstretched wings to me: in fact, Ireceive a morning greeting from all thelive-stock about the place. I am nearlyknocked down by the big sheep-dogs;the calves come rushing with awkwardgambols towards me for a bit of thefowls' bread, whilst the dogs look outfor a bone; but, in the midst of theconfusion, the poultry hold their own;indeed, an anxious hen eager to securea breakfast for her chicks will fly at abig dog, and beat him away from asavoury morsel. I think I ought not toomit mentioning the devotion of a

small pig; it is an exact illustration ofthe French proverb which speaks ofthe inequality of love, for I am quitepassive and do not respond in the leastto the little beastie's affection, which isthe most absurd thing you ever saw,especially as it proceeds from sounromantic an animal. Late in thespring (that is to say, about Novemberlast) we were all returning from a greatpig-hunting expedition, when I sawone of the party coming down a steephill near the house with a small andglossy-black wild pig under each arm;he was very proud of his captives,placed them in a box with some straw,and fed them like babies out of abottle. We laughed at him very much;

but when he went away he begged soearnestly that the pigs should be rearedthat we promised to keep them. In afew days they became perfectly tame,and were very handsome little creatures;and one of them attached itself to me,following me all about, even into thehouse (but that I really could not stand),accompanying me in all my walks, and,as far as it could, in my rides. Many atime have I seen poor little piggycarried down a creek by the current,squealing piteously, but it was evidentlya case of "many waters cannot quenchlove," for a little further on piggywould appear, very much baked, butholding out gallantly, till sheerexhaustion compelled him to give in,

when he would lie down under atussock, apparently dying; but, as wewere coming home in the dusk, Helen,my pretty bay mare, has given many ashy at piggy starting up from his shelterwith gambols and squeals of joy.

It is always a great temptation to loiterabout in the lovely fresh morning air,but I have to be dressed in time forprayers and breakfast at nine; directlyafter breakfast I go into the kitchen;sometimes, it is only necessary to giveorders or instructions, but generally Ifind that practice is much better thanprecept, and I see to the soup myself,and make the pudding the joint cantake care of itself.

You have often asked me what we haveto eat, so this will be a goodopportunity of introducing our dailybill of fare, prefacing it with myrecorded opinion that here is no placein the world where you can live socheaply and so well as on a NewZealand sheep station, when once youget a start. Of course, it is expensive atfirst, setting everything going, but thatwould be the case in any country. I willbegin at the very beginning: Porridgefor breakfast, with new milk and creama discretion; to follow mutton chops,mutton ham, or mutton curry, orbroiled mutton and mushrooms, notshabby little fragments of meat broiled,

but beautiful tender steaks off a leg; teaor coffee, and bread and butter, with asmany new-laid eggs as we choose toconsume. Then, for dinner, at half-pastone, we have soup, a joint, vegetables,and a pudding; in summer, we havefresh fruit stewed, instead of apudding, with whipped cream. I was aproud and happy woman the first daymy cream remained cream, and did notturn into butter; for generally my zealoutran my discretion, and I did notknow when to leave off whipping. Wehave supper about seven; but this is amoveable feast, consisting of tea again,mutton cooked in some form ofentree, eggs, bread and butter, and acake of my manufacture. I must,

however, acknowledge, that at almostevery other station you would get moredainties, such as jam and preserves ofall sorts, than we can boast of yet; for,as Littimer says to David Copperfield,"We are very young, exceedingly young,sir," our fruit-trees, have not come intofull bearing, and our other resources arestill quite undeveloped.

However, I have wandered awayterribly from my first intention oftelling you of the daily occupations to adescription of our daily food. After Ihave finished all my little fussingsabout the house, I join F who hasprobably been for some time quietlysettled down at his writing-table, and

we work together at books and writingtill dinner; after that meal, F like Mr.Tootes, "resumes his studies," but I goand feed my fowls again, and if I amvery idly disposed I sit on a hencoop inthe shade and watch the varioustempers of my chickens and ducklings.A little later F and I go out for somehours: if it is not too hot, he takes hisrifle and we go over the hills pig-stalking, but this is really only suitableexercise for a fine winter's day; at thistime of year we either go for a walk ora ride, generally the latter not a littleshabby canter, but a long stretchinggallop for miles and miles; perhapsstopping to have a cup of tea with aneighbour twelve or fifteen miles off,

and then coming slowly home in thedelicious gloaming, with the peculiarfresh crisp feeling which theatmosphere always has here themoment the sun sets, no matter howhot the day has been. I can hardly hopeto make you understand how enjoyableour twilight hours are, with no fear ofdamp or malaria to spoil them; everyturn of the track as we slowly wind upthe valley showing us some beautifulglimpse of distant mountain peaks,and, above all, such sunset splendours,gradually fading away into the deep,pure beauty of a summer night.

In one of our rides the other day, aftercrossing a low range of hills, we

suddenly dropped down on whatwould be called in England a hamlet,but here it is designated by theextraordinary name of a "nest ofcockatoos." This expression puzzledme so much when I first heard it, that Imust give you as minute an explanationas I myself found necessary to thecomprehension of the subject.

When a shepherd has saved a hundredpounds, or the better class ofimmigrant arrives with a little capital,the favourite investment is in freeholdland, which they can purchase, insections of twenty acres and upwards,at 2 pounds the acre. The next step is tobuild a sod but with two rooms on

their property, thatching it with Tohi, orswamp grass; a door and a couple ofwindow-frames all ready glazed arebrought from Christchurch in the draywith the family and the householdgoods. After this rough and readyshelter is provided, the father and sonsbegin fencing their land and gradually itall assumes a cultivated appearance. Pig-sties and fowl-houses are added; a littlegarden, gay with common Englishflowers, is made in front of the house,whose ugly walls are gradually hiddenby creepers, and the homestead looksboth picturesque and prosperous.These small farmers are calledCockatoos in Australia by the squattersor sheep-farmers, who dislike them for

buying up the best bits of land on theirruns; and say that, like a cockatoo, thesmall freeholder alights on goodground, extracts all he can from it, andthen flies away to "fresh fields andpastures new." But the real fact is, thatthe poor farmer perhaps finds hissection is too far from a market, so heis forced to abandon it and movenearer a town, where the best and mostproductive land has been bought upalready; and he has to begin again at adisadvantage. However, whether thename is just or not, it is a recognizedone here; and I have heard a man say inanswer to a question about his usualoccupation, "I'm a Cockatoo."

This particular "nest" appeared to mevery well off, comparatively speaking;for though the men complained sadlyof the low price of their wheat andoats, still there was nothing like povertyto be seen. Ready money was doubtlessscarce, and an extensive system ofbarter appeared to prevail; but still theyall looked well fed and well clothed;sickness was unknown among them,and it did one's heart good to see thechildren such sturdy limbs, brightfearless eyes, and glowing faces. Theyhave abundance of excellent food.Each cottager has one or two cows, andthe little ones take these out to pastureon the hills, so they are in the open airnearly all day: but their ignorance is

appalling! Many of them had nevereven been christened; there was noschool or church within thirty miles ormore, and although the parents seemedall tidy, decent people, and deplored thestate of things, they were powerless tohelp it. The father and elder sons workhard all day; the mother has to doeverything, even to making the candles,for the family; there is no time orpossibility of teaching the children.The neighbouring squatters do not liketo encourage settlers to buy up theirland, therefore they carefully avoidmaking things pleasant for a new"nest," and the Cockatoos are"nobody's business;" so, as far aseducational advantages go, they are

perfectly destitute.

When I mentioned my discovery ofthis hamlet, and my dismay at the stateof neglect in which so many fineintelligent-looking children weregrowing up, every one warned me notto interfere, assuring me the Cockatoowas a very independent bird, that heconsidered he had left all the LadiesBountiful and blanket and coalcharities behind him in the old country;that, in short, as it is generally put, "Jackis as good as his master" out here, andany attempt at patronage would bedeeply resented. But I determined to trythe effect of a little visiting among thecottages, and was most agreeably

surprised at the kind and cordialwelcome I received. The women likedto have some one to chat to about theirdomestic affairs, and were mosthospitable in offers of tea, etc., andeverywhere invitations to "come again"were given; so the next week I venturedto invite the men over to our Sundayservices. Those who were fond ofreading eagerly accepted the offer tojoin the book-club, and at last westarted the educational subject. Manyplans were discussed, and finally wearranged for one woman, who hadreceived an excellent education and wasquite fitted for the post, to commence aday-school; but this entailed so muchloss of her valuable time that the terms

she is obliged to ask seemdisproportionately high to the people'smeans. She wants 2 shillings and 6pence a week with each child, and thisis terrible heavy on the head of a familywho is anxious and willing to give themsome "schooling." However, the plan isto be tried, and I have promised to startthem with books, slates, copybooks, etc.It was quite touching to hear theirearnest entreaties that F would comeover on Sunday sometimes and hold aservice there, but I tried to show themthis could not be managed. The tearsactually came into their eyes when Italked of the happiness it would be tosee a little church and school in theirmidst; and the almost invariable remark

was, "Ah, but it'll be a far day first."And so I fear it will a very far day; but Ihave often heard it said, that if youpropose one definite object to yourselfas the serious purpose of your life, youwill accomplish it some day. Well, thepurpose of my life henceforward is toraise money somehow or somewhere tobuild a little wooden school-room(licensed for service, to be heldwhenever a missionary clergymancomes by), and to pay the salary of aschoolmaster and mistress, so that thepoor Cockatoo need not be chargedmore than threepence a week for eachchild. The Board of Education willgive a third of the sum required, whentwo-thirds have been already raised; but

it is difficult to collect subscriptions, orindeed to induce the squatters to listento any plan for improving thecondition of the small farmers, andevery year which slips away and leavesthese swarms of children in ignoranceadds to the difficulty of training them.[Note: Since this was written, a school-house, also used as a church, has beenbuilt in this district by privatesubscription and Government aid. Aclergyman, who lives some twenty-fivemiles away, rides over and holds serviceonce a month.]

Letter XVI: A sailing excursion on Lake

Coleridge.

Lake Coleridge, February 1867. Aviolent storm of wind and rain fromthe south-west keeps us all indoors to-day, and gives me time to write my letterfor the Panama mail, which will bemade up to-morrow. The post-office isten miles off, and rejoices in theappropriate name of "Wind-whistle;" itstands at the mouth of a deepmountain gorge, and there never wassuch a temple of the winds.

This bad weather comes after a longspell of lovely bright summer days, andis very welcome to fill up the failingcreeks in the lower ranges of hills. I

must tell you how much we have beenenjoying our visit here. F knows thispart of the country well, but it is quitenew to me, and a great contrast to theother scenery I have described to youWe had long talked of paying Mr. C. Ha visit at his bachelor cottage on hisstation far back among the high rangesof hills, but no time was fixed, so I wasrather taken by surprise when last weekhe drove up to Broomielaw in a lightAmerican waggon with a pair of stouthorses, and announced that he hadcome to take us to his place next day.There was no reason against this plan,and we agreed at once; the nextmorning saw us on the road, after anearly breakfast. We had to drive about

thirty-five miles round, whereas itwould have been only twenty milesriding across the hills; but our kindhost thought that it would be muchmore comfortable for me to be able totake a carpet-bag in the carriage insteadof the usual system of saddle-bags oneis obliged to adopt travelling onhorseback. We made our first stage atthe ever-hospitable station of the C 's,on the Horarata, but we could notremain to luncheon, as they wished,having to push on further; and, as itturned out, it was most fortunate wetook advantage of the first part of theday to get over the ground between usand our destination, for the gentlebreeze which had been blowing since

we started gradually freshened into atremendous "nor'-wester," right in ourteeth all the rest of our way. The poorhorses bent their heads as low aspossible and pulled bravely at theircollars, up hill the whole time. Amongthe mountains the wind rushed withredoubled fury down the narrowgorges, and became icily cold as weneared the snowy ranges. It wasimpossible to see the hills for the thickmist, though I knew we must have amagnificent view before us. We tookrefuge for an hour just to rest thehorses, at Windwhistle, and I certainlyexpected the house to come downwhilst we were there. I can hardly tellyou anything of the rest of the drive,

for I was really frightened at my firstexperience of a "howling nor'-wester"out of doors, and Mr. H made me sitdown at the bottom of the carriage andheaped over me all the cloaks andshawls we had brought. It wasdelightful to find ourselves undershelter at last in a pretty bright snugroom, with lots of books and arm-chairs, and a blazing fire; this, you mustremember, in midsummer.

The next morning was perfectly calm,and the lake as serene as if no stormhad been dashing its water in hugebreakers against the beach only a fewhours before. The view from thesitting-room was lovely: just beneath

the window there was a little lawn, asgreen as possible from the spray withwhich the lake had washed it yesterday;beyond this a low hedge, an openmeadow, a fringe of white pebblybeach, and then a wide expanse ofwater within one little wooded island,and shut in gradually from our view byspurs of hills running down to theshore, sometimes in bold steep cliffs,and again in gentle declivities, with littlestrips of bush or scrub growing in thesteep gullies between them. The lakeextends some way beyond where welose sight of it, being twelve miles longand four miles broad. A few yards fromthe beach it is over six hundred feetdeep. Nothing but a painting could give

you any idea of the blue of sky andwater that morning; the violent windof yesterday seemed to have blownevery cloud below the horizon, for Icould not see the least white filmanywhere. Behind the lower hills whichsurround the lake rises a splendidsnowy range; altogether, you cannotimagine a more enchanting prospectthan the one I stood and looked at; itmade me think of Miss Procter's lines

"My eyes grow dim, As still I gaze andgaze Upon that mountain pass, Thatleads or so it seems To some far happyland Known in a world of dreams."

All this time, whilst I was looking out

of the window in most unusualidleness, Mr. H and F were makingconstant journeys between the boat-house and the store-room, and at last Iwas entreated to go and put on my hat.While doing this I heard cupboardsbeing opened, and a great bustle; sowhen I reached the shore I was not somuch surprised as they expected, to seein the pretty little sailing-boat (whichwas moored to a primitive sort of jettymade out of a broken old punt) thematerials for at least two substantialmeals, in case of being kept out by asudden head-wind. I was especially gladto notice a little kettle among theimpedimenta, and there were cloaks andwraps of all kinds to provide against

the worst. Four gentlemen and I madeup the crew and passengers, and a verymerry set we were, behaving extremelylike children out for a holiday. Thewind was a trifle light for sailing, so thegentlemen pulled, but very lazily andnot at all in good "form," as the objectof each oarsman seemed to be to do aslittle work as possible. However, we goton somehow, a light puff helping usnow and then, but our progress washardly perceptible. I had been for along time gazing down into the clearblue depth of water, every now andthen seeing a flash of the white sandshining at the bottom, when I was halfstartled by our host standing suddenlyup in the bow of the boat; and then I

found that we were a couple of milesaway from our starting-point, and thatwe had turned a corner formed by asteep spur, and were running right intowhat appeared a grove of rata-treesgrowing at the water's edge. The rataonly grows in the hills and near water;it is a species of broad-leaf myrtle, witha flower exactly like a myrtle incharacter, but of a brilliant deep scarletcolour, and twice as large.

When the bowsprit touched the rata-branches, which drooped like a curtaininto the water, Mr. H made a signal tolower the mast, and parting the thick,blossom-covered foliage before us, withboth hands, the way the boat had on

her sent us gently through the screen ofscarlet flowers and glossy green leavesinto such a lovely fairy cove! Before uswas a little white beach of finesparkling sand, against which the waterbroke in tiny wavelets, and all around aperfect bower of every variety of fernand moss, kept green by streams nothicker than a silver thread tricklingdown here and there with a subduedtinkling sound. We all sat quite silent,the boat kept back just inside theentrance by the steersman holding onto a branch. It was a sudden contrastfrom the sparkling sunshine andbrightness outside, all life and colourand warmth, to the tender, green,profound shade and quiet in this

"Mossy Hum," as the people abouthere call it. Do not fancy anythingdamp or chilly. No; it was like a naturaltemple perfect repose and refreshmentto the eyes dazzled with the brilliantoutside colouring. Centuries ago theremust have been a great landslip here,for the side of the mountain is quitehollowed out, and Nature has graduallycovered the ugly brown rent with thethickest tapestry of her most delicatehandiwork. I noticed two varieties ofthe maiden-hair, its slender black stemmaking the most exquisite traceryamong the vivid greens. There was notint of colour except green when oncewe passed the red-fringed curtain ofrata-branches, only the white and

shining fairy beach and the gleamingthreads of water. As we sat there,perfectly still, and entranced, a sort ofdelicious mesmeric feeling stole overme; I thought of the lotus-eater's chant,"There is no joy but calm," with, for,the first time in my life, a dimperception of what they meant,perhaps; but it was over all too quickly:prosaic words of direction to backwater called us from shade to light, andin a moment more we were in front ofthe rata-trees, admiring their splendidcolouring, and our little boat wasdancing away over the bright waves,with her white wings set and her bowspointed towards the little toy island inthe middle of the lake; it was no

question now of rowing, a nice freshbreeze from the south (the cold pointhere) sent us swiftly and steadilythrough the water. What a morning itwas! The air was positively intoxicating,making you feel that the mere fact ofbeing a living creature with lungs toinhale such an atmosphere was a greatboon. We have a good deal ofdisagreeable weather, and a smallproportion of bad weather, but in noother part of the world, I believe, doesNature so thoroughly understand howto make a fine day as in New Zealand.

A little after mid-day we ran our boat tothe lee of the island, and: whilst shewas steadied by the same primitive

method of holding on to branches ofmanuka and other scrub, I scrambledout and up a little cliff, where a goatcould hardly have found footing, till Ireached a spot big enough to stand on,from whence I anxiously watched thedisembarkation of some of theprovisions, and of the gridiron andkettle. In a few moments we were allsafely ashore, and busy collecting dryfern and brushwood for a fire; it wasrather a trial of patience to wait till thegreat blaze had subsided before weattempted to cook our chops, whichwere all neatly prepared ready for us.Some large potatoes were put to bakein the ashes; the tin plates were warmed(it is a great art not to overheat them

when you have to keep them on yourlap whilst you eat your chop). We wereall so terribly hungry that we wereobliged to have a course of bread andcheese and sardines first; it was reallyquite impossible to wait patiently forthe chops. The officiating cook scoldedus well for our Vandalism, and the nextmoment we detected him in the act ofdevouring a half-raw potato. Thefragments of our meal must have beena great boon to the colony of wekaswho inhabit the island, for as theyincrease and multiply prodigiously theirprovisions must often fall short in sosmall a space. No one can imagine howthese birds originally came here, for theisland is at least two miles from the

nearest point of land; they can neitherswim nor fly; and as every man's handis against them, no one would havethought it worth while to bring themover: but here they are, in spite of allthe apparent impossibilities attendingtheir arrival, more tame and impudentthan ever. It was dangerous to leaveyour bread unwatched for an instant,and indeed I saw one gliding off withan empty sardine tin in its beak; Iwonder how it liked oil and little scales.They considered a cork a great prize,and carried several off triumphantly.

After luncheon there was the usualinterval of rest, and pipes on the partof the gentlemen. I explored a little, but

there is nothing very pretty or abundantin the way of wild flowers in the partsof New Zealand which I have seen.White violets and a ground clematis arethe only ones I have come across in anyquantity. The manuka, a sort of scrub,has a pretty blossom like a diminutiveMichaelmas daisy, white petals and abrown centre, with a very aromaticodour; and this little flower issucceeded by a berry with the samestrong smell and taste of spice. Theshepherds sometimes make an infusionof these when they are very hard-up fortea; but it must be like drinking adecoction of cloves.

About three o'clock we re-embarked,

and sailed a little higher up the lakebeyond the point where we lose sightof it from Mr. H 's house, everymoment opening out fresh and morebeautiful glimpses. Quite the oppositeend of the shore is fringed with a thickdeep forest, and another station hasbeen built there, at which, I am told,the scenery is still more magnificent. Atfirst I was inclined to wonder where thesheep live amid all this picturesque butmountainous country: however, I findthat between and among these hillsstretch immense valleys (or "flats," asthey are called here), which are warmand sheltered in winter, and affordplenty of food for them; then, insummer, they go up to the mountains:

but it is very difficult to "muster" theseranges. I am almost ashamed to confessto another meal before we returnedhome, but there was a lovely temptingspot in a little harbour, and so welanded and boiled some water and hada capital cup of tea. You require to beout as we were from morning till nightin such an air as this to know what it isto feel either hungry or sleepy inperfection! The next day we made asimilar excursion, exploring theopposite shore of the lake; but, beforewe started, our host distrusted theappearance of certain clouds, and sentround horses to meet us at the pointwhere we were going to lunch; and itwas just as well he did so, for a stiff

breeze sprang up from the south-west,which would have kept us out all night.So we mounted the horses instead ofre-embarking, having first secured theboat, and cantered home. We passedseveral smaller lakes; there is a perfectchain of them among these hills, and Iwas much amused at the namesbestowed on them, according to thetastes or caprice of the station-ownerswhose runs happen to include them:for instance, two are called respectively"Geraldine" and "Ida," whilst three,which lie close together, rejoice in thesomewhat extraordinary names of "theWorld," "the Flesh," and "the Devil."

Letter XVII: My first and lastexperience of "camping out."

Broomielaw, April 1867. I have nothingto tell you this mail, except of a ratherridiculous expedition which we madelast week, and which involved ourspending the whole night on the top ofthe highest hill on our run. You willprobably wonder what put such an ideainto our heads, so I must preface myaccount by a little explanation.Whenever I meet any people who camehere in the very early days of the colonyonly sixteen years ago, after all! I delightin persuading them to tell me abouttheir adventures and hardships during

those primitive times, and thesenarratives have the greatest fascinationfor me, as they always end happily. Noone ever seems to have died of hismiseries, or even to have sufferedseriously in any way from them, so Ifind the greatest delight in listening tothe stories of the Pilgrims. I envy themdreadfully for having gone through somuch with such spirit and cheerfulness,and ever since I came here I haveregretted that the rapid advance ofcivilization in New Zealand precludesthe possibility of being reallyuncomfortable; this makes me feel likean impostor, for I am convinced thatmy English friends think of me withthe deepest pity, as of one cut off from

the refinements and comforts of life,whereas I really am surrounded byevery necessary, and many of itsluxuries, and there is no reason but thatof expense why one should not have allof these.

One class of narratives is peculiarlyattractive to me. I like to hear ofbenighted or belated travellers whenthey have had to "camp out," as it istechnically called; and have lived inconstant hope of meeting with anadventure which would give me asimilar experience. But I am graduallybecoming convinced that this is almostimpossible by fair means, so I havebeen trying for some time past to excite

in the breasts of our home party andof our nearest neighbours an ardentdesire to see the sun rise from the topof "Flagpole," a hill 3,000 feet abovethe level of the sea, and only a: coupleof miles from the house. As soon asthey were sufficiently enthusiastic onthe subject, I broached my favouriteproject of our all going up there over-night, and camping out on the highestpeak. Strange to say, the plan did notmeet with any opposition, even from F, who has had to camp out many awinter's night, and with whom,therefore, the novelty may be said tohave worn off. Two gentlemen of theproposed party were "new chums" likemyself, and were strongly in favour of a

little roughing; new-chums always are, Iobserve. F hesitated a little about givinga final consent on the score of its beingrather too late in the year, and talked ofa postponement till next summer, butwe would not listen to such an idea; sohe ended by entering so heartily into it,that when at last the happy day andhour came, an untoward shower hadnot the least effect in discouraging him.

There was a great bustle about the littlehomestead on that eventful Tuesdayafternoon. Two very steady old horseswere saddled, one for me and the otherfor one of the "new chums," who wasnot supposed to be in good form for along walk, owing to a weak knee.

Everything which we thought we couldpossibly want was heaped on andaround us after we had mounted; therest of the gentlemen, four in number,walked, and we reached the first stageof our expedition in about an hour.Here we dismounted, as the horsescould go no further in safety. The firstthing done was to see to their comfortand security; the saddles were carefullydeposited under a large flax-bush incase of rain, and the long tether ropeswere arranged so as to ensure plenty ofgood feed and water for both horses,without the possibility of the ropesbecoming entangled in each other or inanything else. Then came a time ofgreat excitement and laughing and

talking, for all the "swags" had to bepacked and apportioned for the verylong and steep ascent before us.

And now I must tell you exactly whatwe took up. A pair of large doubleblankets to make the tent of, that wasone swag, and a very unwieldy one itwas, strapped knapsack fashion, withstraps of flax-leaves, on the back, andthe bearer's coat and waistcoat fastenedon the top of the whole. The next loadconsisted of one small single blanketfor my sole use, inside of which waspacked a cold leg of lamb. I carried theluncheon basket, also strapped on myshoulders, filled with two large bottlesof cream, some tea and sugar, and, I

think, teaspoons. It looked a veryinsignificant load by the side of theothers, but I assure you I found itfrightfully heavy long before I hadgone half-way up the hill. The restdistributed among them a couple oflarge heavy axes, a small coil of rope,some bread, a cake, tin plates andpannikins, knives and forks, and a finepigeon-pie. Concerning this pie therewere two abominable propositions; onewas to leave it behind, and the otherwas to eat it then and there: both ofthese suggestions were, however,indignantly rejected. I must not forgetto say we included in the commissariatdepartment two bottles of whisky, anda tiny bottle of essence of lemon, for

the manufacture of toddy. We never seea real lemon, except two or three times ayear when a ship arrives from the Fijiislands, and then they are sixpence or ashilling apiece. All these things weredivided into two large heavy "swags,"and to poor F was assigned the heaviestand most difficult load of all the water.He must have suffered great anxiety allthe way, for if any accident hadhappened to his load, he would havehad to go back again to refill his bigkettle; this he carried in his hand, whilsta large tin vessel with a screw lid overits mouth was strapped on his backalso full of water, but he wasparticularly charged not to let a dropescape from the spout of the kettle;

and I may mention here, that though hetook a long time about it, for he couldnot go as straight up the hill as we did,he reached the top with the kettle fullto the brim the other vessel was ofcourse quite safe. All these packingsand repackings, and the comfortableadjustment of the "swags," occupied along time, so it was past five when webegan our climb, and half-past sixwhen we reached the top of the hill,and getting so rapidly dark that we hadto hurry our preparations for the night,though we were all so breathless that a"spell" (do you know that means rest )would have been most acceptable. Theascent was very steep, and there wereno sheep-tracks to guide us; our way lay

through thick high flax-bushes, and wenever could have got on without theirhelp. I started with a stick, but soonthrew it aside and pulled myself up bythe flax, hand over hand. Of course Ihad to stop every now and then to rest,and once I chose the same flax-bushwhere three young wild pigs had retiredfor the night, having first madethemselves the most beautiful bed oftussock grass bitten into short lengths;the tussocks are very much scatteredhere, so it must have been anafternoon's work for them; but theshepherds say these wild pigs makethemselves a fresh bed every night.

The first thing to be done was to pitch

the tent on the little flat at the very topof the hill: it was a very primitive affair;two of the thinnest and longest piecesof totara, with which Flagpole isstrewed, we used for poles, fasteninganother piece lengthwise to theseupright sticks as a roof-tree: this framewas then covered with the large doubleblanket, whose ends were kept downon the ground by a row of the heavieststones to be found. The rope we hadbrought up served to tie the polestogether at the top, and to fasten theblanket on them; but as soon as thetent had reached this stage, it wasdiscovered that the wind blew throughit from end to end, and that it affordedvery little protection. We also found it

much colder at the top of this hill thanin our valley; so under thesecircumstances it became necessary toappropriate my solitary blanket toblock up one end of the tent and makeit more comfortable for the wholeparty. It was very little shelter beforethis was done. The next step was tocollect wood for a fire, which was notdifficult, for at some distant time thewhole of the hill must have beencovered by a forest of totara trees; ithas apparently been destroyed by fire,for the huge trunks and brancheswhich still strew the steep sides arecharred and half burnt. It is a beautifulwood, with a strong aromatic odour,and blazed and crackled splendidly in

the clear, cool evening air, as we piledup a huge bonfire, and put the kettle onto boil. It was quite dusk by this time,so the gentlemen worked hard atcollecting a great supply of wood, asthe night promised to be a very coldone, whilst I remained to watch thekettle, full of that precious liquid poorF had carried up with such care, and toprevent the wekas from carrying offour supper, which I had arranged justinside the tent. In this latter task I wasnobly assisted by my little black terrierDick, of whose sad fate I must tell youlater.

By eight o'clock a noble pile offirewood had been collected, and we

were very tired and hungry; so we allcrept inside the tent, which did notafford very spacious accommodation,and began our supper. At this point ofthe entertainment everybody voted it agreat success; although the wind wasslowly rising and blowing from a coldpoint, and our blanket-tent did notafford the perfect warmth and shelterwe had fondly credited it with. Thegentlemen began to button up theircoats. I had only a light serge jacket on,so I coaxed Dick to sit at my back andkeep it warm; for, whilst our faces wereroasted by the huge beacon-fire, therewas a keen and icy draught behind us.The hot tea was a great comfort, andwe enjoyed it thoroughly, and after it

was over the gentlemen lit their pipes,and I told them a story: presently wehad glees, but by ten o'clock there wasno concealing the fact that we were allvery sleepy indeed; however, we stillloudly declared that camping out wasthe most delightful experiment. F andanother gentleman (that kind and mostgood-natured Mr. U , who lives withus) went outside the tent, armed withknives, and cut all the tussocks theycould feel in the darkness, to make me abed after the fashion of the pigs; theybrought in several armfuls, and thewarmest corner in the tent was heapedwith them; I had my luncheon-basketfor a pillow, and announced that I hadturned in and was very comfortable,

and that camping out was charming;the gentlemen were still cheery, thoughsleepy; and the last thing I rememberwas seeing preparations being made forwhat a Frenchman of my acquaintancealways will call a "grogs." When Iawoke, I thought I must have sleptseveral hours. Though the fire wasblazing grandly, the cold was intense: Iwas so stiff I could hardly move; all mylimbs ached dreadfully, and mysensations altogether were new andvery disagreeable. I sat up with greatdifficulty and many groans, and lookedround: two figures were coiled up, likehuge dogs, near me; two more, moodyand sulky, were smoking by the fire;with their knees drawn up to their

noses and their hands in their pockets,collars well up round their throatsstatues of cold and disgust. To myinquiries about the hour, the answer,given in tones of the deepestdespondency, was "Only eleven o'clock,and the sun doesn't rise till six, and itsgoing to be the coldest night we've hadthis year." The speaker added, "If itwasn't so dark that we'd break ournecks on the way, we might go home."

Here was a pretty end to ouramusement. I slowly let myself downagain, and tried to go to sleep, but thatrelief was at an end for the night; theground seemed to grow harder everymoment, or, at all events, I ached more,

and the wind certainly blew higher andkeener. Dick proved himself a mostselfish doggie; he would creep round toleeward of me, whilst I wanted him tolet me get leeward of him, but hewould not consent to this arrangement.Whenever I heard a deeper moan orsigh than usual, I whispered an inquiryas to the hour, but the usual reply, inthe most cynical voice, was, "Oh, youneed not whisper, nobody is asleep." Iheard one plaintive murmur "Think ofall our warm beds, and of our comingup here from choice." I must say I feltdreadfully ashamed of myself for myplan; it was impossible to express mycontrition and remorse, for, alwaysexcepting Mr. U , they were all too cross

to be spoken to. It certainly was aweary, long night. About one o'clock Ipretended to want some hot tea, andthe preparation for that got throughhalf an hour, and it warmed us a little;but everybody still was deeply dejected,not to say morose. After an interval ofonly two hours more of thorough andintense wretchedness we had a "grogs,"but there was no attempt at convivialitysubdued savageness was the prevailingstate of mind. I tried to infuse a littlehope into the party, by suggestions of aspeedy termination to our misery, butmy own private opinion was that weshould all be laid up for weeks to comewith illness. I allotted to myself in thisimaginary distribution of ills a severe

rheumatic fever; oh! how I ached, and Ifelt as if I never could be warm again.The fire was no use; except to affordoccupation in putting on wood; itroasted a little bit of you at a time, andthat bit suffered doubly from the coldwhen it was obliged to take its share ofexposure to the wind. I cannot saywhether the proverb is true of othernights, but this particular night,certainly, was both darkest and coldestjust before dawn.

At last, to our deep joy, and after manyfalse alarms, we really all agreed thatthere was a faint streak of grey in theeast. My first impulse was to set offhome, and I believe I tried to get up

expressing some such intention, but Frecalled me to myself by saying, in greatsurprise, "Are you not going to stopand see the sun rise " I had quiteforgotten that this was the avowedobject of the expedition, but I was fartoo stiff to walk a yard, so I wasobliged to wait to see what effect thesunrise would have on my frozen limbs,for I could not think of any highermotive. Presently some one called out"There's the sea," and so it was, asdistinct as though it were not fifty milesoff; none of us had seen it since welanded; to all of us it is associated withthe idea of going home some day:whilst we were feasting our eyes on it agolden line seemed drawn on its

horizon; it spread and spread, and as allthe water became flooded with a lightand glory which hardly seemed tobelong to this world, the blessed suncame up to restore us all to life andwarmth again. In a moment, in lessthan a moment, all our little privationsand sufferings vanished as if they hadnever existed, or existed only to belaughed at. Who could think of their"Ego" in such a glorious presence, andwith such a panorama before them Idid not know which side to turn tofirst. Behind me rose a giant forest inthe far hills to the west a deep shadowfor miles, till the dark outline of thepines stood out against the dazzlingsnow of the mountains behind it; here

the sky was still sheltering the flyingnight, and the white outlines lookedghostly against the dull neutral tints,though every peak was sharply andclearly defined; then I turned round tosee before me such a glow of light andbeauty! For an immense distance Icould see the vast Canterbury plains; tothe left the Waimakiriri river, flowing inmany streams, "like a tangled bunch ofsilver ribbons" (as Mr. Butler calls it inhis charming book on New Zealand),down to the sea; beyond its banks thesun shone on the windows of thehouses at Oxford, thirty miles off asthe crow would fly, and threw its densebush into strong relief against theyellow plains. The Port Hills took the

most lovely lights and shadows as wegazed on them; beyond them lay thehills of Akaroa, beautiful beyond thepower of words to describe.Christchurch looked quite a large placefrom the great extent of ground itappeared to cover. We looked onto thesouth: there was a slight haze over thegreat Ellesmere Lake, the water ofwhich is quite fresh, though onlyseparated from the sea by a slight barof sand; the high banks of the Rakaiamade a deep dark line extending rightback into the mountains, and beyond itwe could see the Rangitata faintlygleaming in the distance; between usand the coast were green patches andtiny homesteads, but still few and far

between; close under our feet, andlooking like a thread beneath theshadow of the mountain, ran theSelwyn in a narrow gorge, and on itsbank stood the shepherd's hut that Ihave told you once afforded us such agood luncheon; it looked a mere toy, asif it came out of a child's box ofplaythings, and yet so snug for all itslonely position. On the other hand layour own little home, with the faintwreath of smoke stealing up throughthe calm air (for the wind had droppedat sunrise). Here and there we sawstrings of sheep going down from theirhigh camping-grounds to feed on thesunny slopes and in the warm valleys.Every moment added to our delight

and enjoyment; but unfortunately itwas a sort of happiness which one canneither speak of at the time, nor writeabout afterwards: silence is its mostexpressive language. Whilst I wasdrinking in all the glory and beautybefore me, some of the others hadbeen busy striking the tent, repackingthe loads, very much lighter without theprovisions; and we had one moreexcellent cup of tea before abandoningthe encampment to the wekas, whomust have breakfasted splendidly thatmorning. Our last act was to collect allthe stones we could move into a hugecairn, which was built round a tall poleof totara; on the summit of this wetied securely, with flax, the largest and

strongest pocket-handkerchief, andthen, after one look round to the westnow as glowing and bright as theradiant east we set off homewardsabout seven o'clock; but it was longbefore we reached the place where weleft the horses, for the gentlemen beganrolling huge rocks down the sides ofthe hills and watching them crashingand thundering into the valleys,sometimes striking another rock andthen bounding high into the air. Theywere all as eager and excited asschoolboys, and I could not go on andleave them, lest I should get belowthem and be crushed under a smallstone of twenty tons or so. I wastherefore forced to keep well above them

all the time. At last we reached the spurwhere the horses were tethered, re-saddled and loaded them, and arrivedquite safely at home, just in time forbaths and breakfast. I was amused tosee that no one seemed to remember orallude to the miseries and aches of thatlong cold night; all were full ofprofessions of enjoyment. But Inoticed that the day was unusuallyquiet; the gentlemen preferred a bask inthe verandah to any other amusement,and I have reason to believe theyindulged in a good many naps.

Letter XVIII: A journey "down south."

Waimate, May 1867. In one of my early

letters from Heathstock I told you thatthe Hurunui, which is the boundary ofthat run, marks the extreme north ofthe Province of Canterbury; and now Iam writing to you from the extremesouth. I hope you do not forget toreverse in your own mind the ordinaryideas of heat and cold, as connectedwith those points of the compass. Thedistance from our house to this isabout 160 miles, and we actually tooktwo days and a half to get here! besides,into these miles was compressed thefatigue of a dozen English railwayjourneys of the same length. But, Isuppose, as usual, you will not besatisfied unless I begin at the verybeginning. The first difficulty was to

reach the point where we were to jointhe coach on the Great South Road. Itwas less than thirty miles, so we couldeasily have ridden the distance; but thedifficulty was to get our clothes all thatway. They could not be carried onhorseback, and just then the station-dray was particularly employed; besideswhich it would have taken three days tocome and go, rather a uselessexpenditure of the man's time, as wellas of the horses' legs, where only twolittle portmanteaus were concerned.Fortunately for us, however, this is acountry where each man is ready andwilling to help his neighbour, withoutany inquiry as to who he is; so themoment our dilemma was known

various plans were suggested for ourassistance, of which this was the oneselected:

On a certain bright but cold Wednesdayafternoon, F and I and our modestluggage started in a neighbour's "trap"for the station I have already mentionedon the Horarata, where Mr. C. H and Istopped on our way to Lake Coleridge.It is on the plains at the foot of a lowrange of downs, and about twelvemiles from us. You cannot imagine amore charming little cottage ornee thanthe house is, capable of holding,apparently, an indefinite number ofpeople, and with owners whosehospitality always prompts them to try

its capabilities to the utmost. A creekruns near the house, and on its banks,sloping to the sun, lies a lovely garden,as trim as any English parterre, and amass of fruit and flowers. Nothing canbe more picturesque than the mixtureof both. For instance, on the wall ofthe house is a peach-tree laden everyautumn with rosy, velvet-cheeked fruit;and jasmine and passion-flowersgrowing luxuriantly near it. Inside all isbright neatness and such a welcome! Asfor our supper, on this particular day itcomprised every dainty you canimagine, and made me think of myhousekeeping with shame andconfusion of face. We had a very merryevening, with round games; but there

was a strong prejudice in favour ofgoing to bed early, as we all had to beup by three o'clock: and so we were, tofind a delicious breakfast prepared forus, which our kind hostess was quitedisappointed to see we could not eatmuch of. Coffee and toast was all Icould manage at that hour. We startedin the dark, and the first thing we hadto cross was a dry river-bed, in whichone of the horses lay deliberatelydown, and refused to move. Thiseccentricity delayed us very much; butwe got him into a better frame ofmind, and accomplished our early driveof sixteen miles in safety, reaching theaccommodation-house, or inn, wherethe coach from Christchurch to Timaru

changes horses for its first stage, by sixo'clock. There we had a good breakfast,and were in great "form" by the timethe coach was ready to start. Theseconveyances have a world-widecelebrity as "Cobb's coaches," both inAmerica and Australia, where they areinvariably the pioneers of all wheeledvehicles, being better adapted to travelon a bad road, or no road at all, thanany other four-wheeled "trap." They areboth strong and light, with leathernsprings and a powerful break; but Icannot conscientiously say they are atall handsome carriages; indeed I thinkthem extremely ugly and not verycomfortable except on the box-seatnext the driver. Fortunately, this is made

to hold three, so F and I scrambled up,and off we started with four goodstrong horses, bearing less harnessabout them than any quadrupeds I eversaw; a small collar, slender traces, andvery thin reins comprised all theiraccoutrements. The first half of thejourney was slow, but there was nojolting. The road was level, though ithad not been made at all, only thetussocks removed from it; but it wasnaturally good a great exception toNew Zealand roads. The driver was asteady, respectable man, very intelligent;and when F could make him talk of hisexperiences in Australia in the earlycoaching days, I was much interested.

We crossed the Rakaia and theRangitata in ferry-boats, and stoppedon the banks of the Ashburton, to dineabout one o'clock, having changedhorses twice since we started from"Gigg's," as our place of junction waselegantly called. Here all my troublesbegan. When we came out of the littleinn, much comforted and refreshed bya good dinner, I found to my regretthat we were to change drivers as wellas horses, and that a very popular andwell known individual was to be thenew coachman. As our former driververy politely assisted me to clamber upon the box-seat, he recommended F tosit on the outside part of the seat, andto put me next the driver, "where," he

added, "the lady won't be so likely totumble out." As I had shown nodisposition to fall off the coachhitherto, I was much astonished by thisprecaution, but said nothing. So he wasemboldened to whisper, after lookinground furtively, "And you jest take anddon't be afraid, marm; he handles theribbings jest as well when he's had adrop too much as when he's sober,which ain't often, however." This lastcaution alarmed me extremely. Thehorses were not yet put in, nor thedriver put up, so I begged F to getdown and see if I could not go inside.But, after a hasty survey, he, said it wasquite impossible: men smoking,children crying, and, in addition, a

policeman with a lunatic in his charge,made the inside worse than the outside,especially in point of atmosphere; so herepeated the substance of our ex-driver's farewell speech; and when I sawour new charioteer emerge at last fromthe bar, looking only very jovial andtolerably steady as to gait, I thoughtperhaps my panic was premature. But,oh, what a time I had of it for ninehours afterwards! The moment thegrooms let go the horses' heads hestood up on his seat, shook the reins,flourished his long whip, and with onewild yell from him we dashed down asteep cutting into the Ashburton. Thewater flew in spray far over our heads,and the plunge wetted me as effectually

as if I had fallen into the river. Iexpected the front part of the coach topart from the back, on account of theenormous strain caused by dragging itover the boulders. We lurched like aboat in a heavy sea; the "insides"screamed; "Jim" (that was the driver'sname) swore and yelled; the horsesreared and plunged. All this time I washolding on like grim death to a lightiron railing above my head, and oneglance to my left showed me F thrownoff the very small portion of cushionwhich fell to his share, and clingingdesperately to a rude sort of lamp-frame. I speculated for an instantwhether this would break; and, if so,what would become of him. But it

took all my ideas to keep myself frombeing jerked off among the horses'heels. We dashed through the river; Jimgathered up the reins, and with adifferent set of oaths swore he wouldpunish the horses for jibbing in thewater. And he did punish them; he putthe break hard down for some way,flogged them with all his strength,dancing about the coach-box andyelling like a madman. Every now andthen, in the course of his bounds fromplace to place, he would come plumpdown on my lap; but I was too muchfrightened to remonstrate; indeed, wewere going at such a pace against thewind, I had very little breath to spare.

We got over the first stage of twentymiles at this rate very quickly, as youmay imagine; but, unfortunately, therewas an accommodation-house close tothe stables, and Jim had a good dealmore refreshment. Strange to say, thisdid not make him any wilder in mannerthat he could not be; but after westarted again he became extremelyfriendly with me, addressing meinvariably as "my dear," and offering to"treat me" at every inn from that toTimaru. I declined, as briefly as I could,whereupon he became extremely angry,at my doubting his pecuniary resourcesapparently, for, holding the reinscarelessly with one hand, though wewere still tearing recklessly along, he

searched his pockets with the otherhand, and produced from them aquantity of greasy, dirty one-poundnotes, all of which he laid on my lap,saying, "There, and there, and there, ifyou think I'm a beggar!" I fullyexpected them to blow away, for Icould not spare a hand to hold them;but I watched my opportunity when hewas punishing the unfortunate freshteam, and pounced on them, thrustingthe dirty heap back into his great-coatpocket. At the next stage a very tidywoman came out, with a rather largebundle, containing fresh linen, she said,for her son, who was ill in the hospitalat Timaru. She booked this, and paidher half-crown for its carriage,

entreating the drunken wretch to seethat it reached her son that night. Hewildly promised he should have it inhalf-an-hour, and we set off as if hemeant to keep his word, though wewere some forty miles off yet; but hesoon changed his mind, and took ahatred to the parcel, saying it would"sink the ship," and finally tried to kickit over the splash-board. I seized it atthe risk of losing my balance, andhugged it tight all the way to Timaru,carrying it off to the hotel, where Iinduced a waiter to take it up to thehospital.

After we had changed horses for thelast time, and I was comforting myself

by the reflection that the journey wasnearly over, we heard shouts andscreams from the inside passengers. Fpersuaded Jim with much trouble topull up, and jumped down to see whatwas the matter. A strong smell ofburning and a good deal of smokearose from inside the coach, caused bythe lunatic having taken off both hisboots and lighted a fire in them. It wasgetting dark and chilly; the otherpassengers, including the policeman,had dozed off and the madmanthought that as his feet were very cold,he would "try and warm them a bit;" sohe collected all the newspapers withwhich his fellow-travellers had beensolacing the tedium of their journey,

tore, them up into shreds, with theaddition of the contents of a poorwoman's bundle, and made quite acheerful blaze out of these materials. Itwas some time before the terrifiedwomen could be induced to get intothe coach again; and it was only by Jimsasseverations, couched in the strongestlanguage, that if they were not "allaboard" in half a minute, he woulddrive on and leave them in the middleof the plains, that they were persuadedto clamber in to their places once more.

How thankful I was when we saw thelights of Timaru! I was stunned andbewildered, tired beyond the power ofwords to describe, and black and blue

all over from being jolted about. Theroad had been an excellent one, all theway level and wide, with telegraph-poles by its side. We shaved these veryclosely often enough, but certainly,amid all his tipsiness, Jim bore out hispredecessors remark. Whenever wecame to a little dip in the road, or asharp turn, as we were nearing Timaru,he would get the horses under controlas if by magic, and take us over assafely as the soberest driver could havedone; the moment the obstacle waspassed, off we were again like awhirlwind!

I was not at all surprised to hear thatupsets and accidents were common on

the road, and that the horses lasted buta very short time.

We found our host had driven in fromhis station forty-five miles distant fromTimaru, to meet us, and had orderednice rooms and a good dinner; so thenext morning I was quite rested, andready to laugh over my miseries of theday before. Nothing could be a greatercontrast than this day's journeying toyesterday's. A low, comfortablephaeton, and one of the most agreeablecompanions in the world to drive us,beautiful scenery and a nice luncheonhalf-way, at which meal F ate somethinglike half a hundred cheese-cakes! Thelast part of the road for a dozen miles

or so was rather rough; we had to crossa little river, the Waio, every fewhundred yards; and a New Zealandriver has so much shingle about it! Thewater can never quite make up its mindwhere it would like to go, and has half-a-dozen channels ready to choose from,and then in a heavy fresh the chancesare it will select and make quite adifferent course after all.

This is late autumn with us, remember,so the evenings close in early and, arevery cold indeed. It was quite darkwhen we reached the house, and theblazing fires in every room were mostwelcome. The house is very unlike theconventional station pattern, being

built of stone, large, very well arranged,and the perfection of comfort inside.There is no hostess at present; threebachelor brothers do the honours, and,as far as my experience goes, do themmost efficiently. Our visit has lastedthree weeks already, and we really mustbring it to a termination soon. Theweather has been beautiful, and wehave made many delightful excursions,all on horseback, to neighbouringstations, to a fine bush where we had apicnic, or to some point of view. I cantruly say I have enjoyed every momentof the time, indoors as well as out; Iwas the only lady, and was petted andmade much of to my heart's content.There were several other guests, and

they were all nice and amusing. Onewet day we had, and only one. I musttell you an incident of it, to show youwhat babies grown-up men can be atthe Antipodes. We worked hard all themorning at acrostics, and after my fiveo'clock tea I went upstairs to acharming little boudoir prepared forme, to rest and read; in a short time Iheard something like music andstamping, and, though I was en peignoir,I stole softly down to see what wasgoing on; when I opened the door ofthe general sitting-room a most unusualsight presented itself, eight beardedmen, none of them very young, weredancing a set of quadrilles with theutmost gravity and decorum to the

tunes played by a large musical-box,which was going at the mostprodigious pace, consequently thedancers were flying through the figuresin silence and breathless haste. Theycould not stop or speak when I camein, and seemed quite surprised at mylaughing at them; but you have no ideahow ridiculous they looked, especiallyas their gravity and earnestness wereprofound.

This is one of the very few stationswhere pheasants have been introduced,but then, every arrangement has beenmade for their comfort, and a beautifulhouse and yard built for their receptionon a flat, just beneath the high terrace

on which the house stands. More thana hundred young birds were turned outlast spring, and there will probably bethree times that number at the end ofthis year. We actually had pheasanttwice at dinner; the first, and probablythe last time we shall taste game in NewZealand. There is a good deal of thickscrub in the clefts of the home-terrace,and this affords excellent shelter for theyoung. Their greatest enemies are thehawks, and every variety of trap andcunning device for the destruction ofthese latter are in use, but as yet withoutdoing much execution among them,they are so wonderfully clever anddiscerning.

Letter XIX: A Christening gathering.the fate of Dick.

Broomielaw, June 1867. We reachedhome quite safely the first week of thismonth, and I immediately set to workto prepare for the Bishop's visit. Wemet him at a friend's house one day,just as we were starting homewards,and something led to my telling himabout the destitute spiritual conditionof my favourite "nest of Cockatoos."With his usual energy, as well asgoodness, he immediately volunteeredto come up to our little place, hold aservice, and christen all the children.

We were only too thankful to acceptsuch an offer, as we well knew what aninducement it would be to the people,who would take a great deal of troubleand come from far and near to hear ourdear Bishop, who is universally belovedand respected.

For a week beforehand the house smeltall day long like a baker's shop aboutnoon on Sunday, for pies, tarts, cakes,etc., were perpetually being "drawn"from the oven. I borrowed every pie-dish for miles round, and, as onanother occasion I have mentioned,plenty of good things which our ownresources could not furnish forth camepouring in on all sides with offers to

help. F and I scoured the country forthirty miles round to invite everybodyto come over to us that Sunday; and Ithink I may truly say everybody came.When I rode over to my "nest" andmade the announcement of theBishop's visit, the people were verymuch delighted; but a great difficultyarose from the sudden demand forwhite frocks for all the babies and olderchildren. I rashly promised each childshould find a clean white garmentawaiting it on its arrival at my house,and took away a memorandum of allthe different ages and sizes; the "order"never could have been accomplishedwithout the aid of my sewing-machine.I had a few little frocks by me as

patterns, and cut up some very smartwhite embroidered petticoats whichwere quite useless to me, to make intolittle skirts. In spite of all that wasgoing on in the kitchen my maidsfound time to get these up mostbeautifully, and by the Saturday nightthe little bed in the spare room was aheap of snowy small garments, with aname written on paper and pinned toeach. The Bishop also arrived quitesafely, late that evening, having drivenhimself up from Christchurch in a littlegig.

It is impossible for you to imagine amore beautiful winter's morning thandawned on us that Sunday. A sharp

frost over-night only made the airdeliciously crisp, for the sun shone sobrightly, that by nine o'clock the lightfilm of ice over the ponds haddisappeared, and I found the Bishopbasking in the verandah when I cameout to breakfast, instead of sitting overthe blazing wood-fire in the dining-room. We got our meal finished asquickly as possible, and then F and Mr.U set to work to fill the verandah withforms extemporised out of emptyboxes placed at each end, and plankslaid across them; every red blanket inthe house was pressed into service tocover these rough devices, and theeffect at last was quite tidy. By eleveno'clock the drays began to arrive in

almost a continual stream; as each cameup, its occupants were taken into thekitchen, and given as much as theycould eat of cold pies made of eitherpork or mutton, bread and hotpotatoes, and tea. As for teapots, theywere discarded, and the tea was made inhuge kettles, whilst the milk stood inbuckets, into which quart jugs weredipped every five minutes. I took careof all the women and children whilst Fand Mr. U looked after the men,showed them where to put the horses,etc. All this time several gentlemen andtwo or three ladies had arrived, butthere was no one to attend to them, sothey all very kindly came out andhelped. We insisted on the Bishop

keeping quiet in the drawing-room, orhe would have worked as hard as anyone. I never could have got the childreninto their white frocks by two o'clock ifit had not been for the help of theother ladies; but at last they were alldressed, and the congregation notmuch under a hundred people fed, andarranged in their places. There had beena difficulty about finding sufficientgodmothers and godfathers, so F and Iwere sponsors for every child, and eachparent wished me to hand the child tothe Bishop; but I could not lift upmany of the bigger ones, and theyroared piteously when I touched theirhands. I felt it quite a beautiful andthrilling scene; the sunburnt faces all

around, the chubby, pretty little groupof white-clad children, every one wellfed and comfortably clothed, the dogslying at their masters feet, the brightwinter sunshine and dazzling sky, andour dear Bishops commanding figureand clear, penetrating voice! He gave usa most excellent sermon, short andsimple, but so perfectly appropriate;and after the service was over he wentabout, talking to all the various groupssuch nice, helpful words.

The truest kindness was now to "speedthe parting guest," so each dray load,beginning with those whose homeswere the most distant, was collected.They were first taken into the kitchen

and given a good meal of hot tea, cake,and bread and butter, for many hadfour hours' jolting before them; the redblankets were again called intorequisition to act as wraps, besidesevery cloak and shawl I possessed, forthe moment the sun sunk, which wouldbe about four o'clock, the cold was sureto become intense. We lived that day inthe most scrambling fashion ourselves;there was plenty of cold meat, etc., onthe dining-room table, and piles ofplates, and whenever any of the partywere hungry they went and helpedthemselves, as my two servants wereentirely occupied with looking after thecomfort of the congregation; it wassuch a treat to them to have, even for a

few hours, the society of other women.They have only one female neighbour,and she is generally too busy to seemuch of them; besides which, I thinkthe real reason of the want of intimacyis that Mrs. M is a very superior person,and when she comes up I generally liketo have a chat with her myself. It doesme good to see her bonny Scotch face,and hear the sweet kindly "Scot'stongue;" besides which she is my greatinstructress in the mysteries of knittingsocks and stockings, spinning, makingreally good butter (not an easy thing,madam), and in all sorts of usefulaccomplishments; her husband is thehead shepherd on the next station.They are both very fond of reading,

and it was quite pretty to see the delightthey took in the Queen's book aboutthe Highlands.

To return, however, to that Sunday. Wewere all dreadfully tired by the time thelast guest had departed, but we had adelightfully quiet evening, and a longtalk with the Bishop about ourfavourite scheme of the church andschool among the Cockatoos, and wemay feel certain of his heartycooperation in any feasible plan forcarrying it out. The next morning,much to our regret, the Bishop left usfor Christchurch, but he had to hold aConfirmation service there, and couldnot give us even a few more hours. We

were so very fortunate in our weather.The following Sunday was a pouringwet day, and we have had wind and rainalmost ever since; it is unusually wet, soI have nothing more to tell you of ourdoings, which must seem very eccentricto you, by the way, but I assure you Ienjoy the gipsy unconventional lifeimmensely.

You must not be critical about a jumbleof subjects if I record poor Dick'stragical fate here; it will serve to fill upmy letter, and if ever you havemourned for a pet dog you willsympathise with me. I must first explainto you that on a sheep station strangedogs are regarded with a most

unfriendly eye by both master andshepherds. There are the proper colleys,generally each shepherd has two, but noother dogs are allowed, and I had greattrouble to coax F to allow me to accepttwo. One is a beautiful water-spaniel, jetblack, Brisk by name, but his characteris stainless in the matter of sheep, andthough very handsome he is only anamiable idiot, his one amusement beingto chase a weka, which he nevercatches. The other dog was, alas! Dick, asmall black-and-tan terrier, very wellbred, and full of tricks and play. Wenever even suspected him of anywickedness, but as it turned out hemust have been a hardened offender. Afew weeks after he came to us, when

the lambing season was at its height,and the low sunny hills near the housewere covered with hundreds of thepretty little white creatures, F usedsometimes to come and ask me whereDick was, and, strange to say, Dickconstantly did not answer to my call.An evening or two later, just as we werestarting for our walk, Dick appeared ina great hurry from the back of thestable. F went up immediately to him,and stooped down to examine hismouth, calling me to see. Oh, horror! itwas all covered with blood and wool. Ipleaded all sorts of extenuatingcircumstances, but F said, with: judicialsternness, "This cannot be allowed."Dick was more fascinating than usual,

never looking at a sheep whilst we wereout walking with him, and behaving inthe most exemplary manner. F watchedhim all the next day, and at last caughthim in the act of killing a new-bornlamb a little way from the house; theculprit was brought to me hanging histail with the most guilty air, and F said,"I ought to shoot him, but if you like Iwill try if a beating can cure him, but itmust be a tremendous one." I wasobliged to accept this alternative, andretreated where I could not hear Dick'showls under the lash, over the body ofhis victim. A few hours after I went tothe spot, lifted Dick up, and carriedhim into my room to nurse him; for hecould not move, he had been beaten so

severely. For two whole days he lay onthe soft mat I gave him, only able to lapa little warm milk; on the third morninghe tried to get up, and crawled into theverandah; I followed to watch him.Imagine my dismay at seeing him limpto the place where the body of his lastvictim lay, and deliberately begin tearingit to pieces. I followed him with mylittle horsewhip and gave him a slightbeating. I could not find it in my heartto hit him very hard. I carefullyconcealed this incident from F , and forsome days I never let Dick out of mysight for a moment; but early one finemorning a knock came to our bed-room door, and a voice said, "Please,sir, come and see what's the matter with

the sheep there's a large mob of themat the back of the house being driven,like." Oh, my prophetic soul! I felt itwas Dick. Whilst F was huddling onsome clothes I implored him to temperjustice with mercy, but never a word didhe say, and sternly took his gun in hishand and went out. I buried my head inthe pillows, but for all my precautions Iheard the report of a shot in the clearmorning air, and the echo ringing backfrom all the hills; five minutesafterwards F came in with a little bluecollar in his hand, and said briefly, "Hehas worried more than a dozen lambsthis morning alone." What could I sayF 's only attempt at consolation was,"he died instantly; I shot him through

the head." But for many daysafterwards I felt quite lonely and sadwithout my poor little pet yet whatcould have been done No one wouldhave accepted him as a present, and itflashed on me afterwards that perhapsthis vice of his was the reason ofDick's former owner being so anxiousto give him to me. I have had two offersof successors to Dick since, but I shallnever have another dog on a sheepstation, unless I know what Mr.Dickens' little dressmaker calls "itstricks and its manners."

Letter XX: the New Zealand

snowstorm of 1867.

Broomielaw, August 1867. I have hadmy first experience of real hardshipssince I last wrote to you. Yes, we haveall had to endure positive hunger andcold, and, what I found much harder tobear, great anxiety of mind. I think Imentioned that the weather towards theend of July had been unusuallydisagreeable, but not very cold This wetfortnight had a great deal to do withour sufferings afterwards, for it cameexactly at the time we were accustomedto send our dray down to Christchurchfor supplies of flour and groceries, andto lay in a good stock of coals for thewinter; these latter had been ordered,

and were expected every day. Just thelast few days of July the weather clearedup, and became like our usual mostbeautiful winter climate; so, afterwaiting a day or two, to allow the roadsto dry a little, the dray was despatchedto town, bearing a long list of orders,and with many injunctions to the driverto return as quickly as possible, for allthe stores were at the lowest ebb. I amobliged to tell you these domesticdetails, in order that you mayunderstand the reason of ourprivations. I acknowledge, humbly, thatit was not good management, butsometimes accidents will occur. It wasalso necessary for F to make a journeyto Christchurch on business, and as he

probably would be detained there fornearly a week, it was arranged that oneof the young gentlemen fromRockwood should ride over and escortme back there, to remain during F 'sabsence. I am going to give you all theexact dates, for this snow-storm will bea matter of history, during the presentgeneration at all events: there is notradition among the Maoris of such asevere one ever having occurred; andwhat made it more fatal in its financialconsequences to every one was, that thelambing season had only justcommenced or terminated on most ofthe runs. Only a few days before he left,F had taken me for a ride in thesheltered valleys, that he might see the

state of the lambs, and pronounced itmost satisfactory; thousands of thepretty little creatures were skippingabout by their mothers' side.

I find, by my Diary, July 29th marked,as the beginning of a "sou'-wester." Fhad arranged to start that morning, andas his business was urgent, he did notlike to delay his departure, though theday was most unpromising, a steady,fine drizzle, and raw atmosphere;however, we hurried breakfast, and heset off, determining to push on to townas quickly as possible. I never spentsuch a dismal day in my life: my mindwas disturbed by secret anxieties aboutthe possibility of the dray being

detained by wet weather, and there wassuch an extraordinary weight in the air,the dense mist seemed pressingeverything down to the ground;however, I drew the sofa to the fire,made up a good blaze (the last I sawfor some time), and prepared to pass alazy day with a book; but I felt sorestless and miserable I did not knowwhat was the matter with me. Iwandered from window to window,and still the same unusual sight met myeyes; a long procession of ewes andlambs, all travelling steadily down fromthe hills towards the large flat in frontof the house; the bleating wasincessant, and added to the intensemelancholy of the whole affair. When

Mr. U came in to dinner; at one o'clock,he agreed with me that it was mostunusual weather, and said, that on theother ranges the sheep were driftingbefore the cold mist and rain just in thesame way. Our only anxiety arose fromthe certainty that the dray would bedelayed at least a day, and perhaps two;this was a dreadful idea: for some timepast we had been economising ourresources to make them last, and weknew that there was absolutely nothingat the home-station, nor at our nearestneighbour's, for they had sent toborrow tea and sugar from us. Just atdusk that evening, two gentlemen rodeup, not knowing F was from home, andasked if they might remain for the

night. I knew them both very well; infact, one was our cousin T , and theother an old friend; so they put up theirhorses, and housed their dogs (for eachhad a valuable sheep-dog with him) in abarrel full of clean straw, and we alltried to spend a cheerful evening, buteverybody confessed to the sameextraordinary depression of spirits thatI felt.

When I awoke the next morning, I wasnot much surprised to see the snowfalling thick and fast: no sheep werenow visible, there was a great silence,and the oppression in the atmospherehad if possible increased. We had avery poor breakfast, no porridge, very

little mutton (for in expectation of thehouse being nearly empty, the shepherdhad not brought any over the precedingday), and very weak tea; coffee andcocoa all finished, and about an ounceof tea in the chest. I don't know howthe gentlemen amused themselves thatday; I believe they smoked a good deal;I could only afford a small fire in thedrawing-room, over which I shivered.The snow continued to fall in densefine clouds, quite unlike any snow Iever saw before, and towards night Ifancied the garden fence was becomingvery much dwarfed. Still theconsolation was, "Oh, it won't last;New Zealand snow never: does."However, on Wednesday morning

things began to look very seriousindeed: the snow covered the groundto a depth of four feet in theshallowest places, and still continued tofall steadily; the cows we knew must bein the paddock were not to be seenanywhere; the fowl-house and pig-styeswhich stood towards the weatherquarter had entirely disappeared; everyscrap of wood (and several logs werelying about at the back) was quitecovered up; both the verandahs wereimpassable; in one the snow was sixfeet deep, and the only door whichcould be opened was the back-kitchendoor, as that opened inwards; but herethe snow was half-way over the roof, soit took a good deal of work with the

kitchen-shovel, for no spades could befound, to dig out a passage. Indoors,we were approaching our last mouthfulvery rapidly, the tea at breakfast wasmerely coloured hot water, and we hadsome picnic biscuits with it. For dinnerwe had the last tin of sardines, the lastpot of apricot jam, and a tin of ratifiabiscuits a most extraordinary mixture, Iadmit, but there was nothing else. Therewere six people to be fed every day, andnothing to feed them with. Thursday'sbreakfast was a discovered crust of drybread, very stale, and our dinner thatday was rice and salt the last rice in thestore-room. The snow still never ceasedfalling, and only one window in thehouse afforded us any light; every box

was broken up and used for fuel. Thegentlemen used to go all together andcut, or rather dig, a passage through thehuge drift in front of the stable, andwith much difficulty get some food forthe seven starving horses outside, whowere keeping a few yards clear byincessantly moving about, the snowmaking high walls all around them.

It was wonderful to see how completelythe whole aspect of the surroundingscenery was changed; the gullies wereall filled up, and nearly level with thedowns; sharp-pointed cliffs were nowround bluffs; there was no vestige of afence or gate or shrub to be seen, andstill the snow came down as if it had

only just begun to fall; out of doors thesilence was like death, I was told, for Icould only peep down the tunnel dugevery few hours at the back-kitchendoor. My two maids now gave way, andsat clasped in each other's arms all day,crying piteously, and bewailing theirfate, asking me whenever I came intothe kitchen, which was about everyhalf-hour, for there was no fireelsewhere, "And oh, when do you thinkwe'll be found, mum " Of course thisonly referred to the ultimate discoveryof our bodies. There was a great searchto-day for the cows, but it was useless,the gentlemen sank up to theirshoulders in snow. Friday, the samestate of things: a little flour had been

discovered in a discarded flour-bag,and we had a sort of girdle-cake andwater. The only thing remaining in thestore-room was some blacklead, and Iwas considering seriously how thatcould be cooked, or whether it wouldbe better raw: we were all more thanhalf starved, and quite frozen: verylittle fire in the kitchen, and none in anyother room. Of course, the constantthought was, "Where are the sheep "Not a sign or sound could be heard.The dogs' kennels were covered severalfeet deep; so we could not get at themat all. Saturday morning: the first goodnews I heard was that the cows hadbeen found, and dragged by ropesdown to the enclosure the horses had

made for them-selves: they were halfdead, poor beasts; but after strugglingfor four hours to and from a haystacktwo hundred yards off, one end ofwhich was unburied, some oaten haywas procured for them. There was nownot a particle of food in the house. Theservants remained in their beds,declining to get up, and alleging thatthey might as well "die warm." In themiddle of the day a sort of forlorn-hope was organized by the gentlemento try to find the fowl-house, but theycould not get through the drift:however, they dug a passage to thewash-house, and returned in triumphwith about a pound of very rustybacon they had found hanging up

there; this was useless without fuel, sothey dug for a little gate leading to thegarden, fortunately hit its whereabouts,and soon had it broken up and in thekitchen grate. By dint of taking all thelead out of the tea-chests, shaking it,and collecting every pinch of tea-dust,we got enough to make a teapot of theweakest tea, a cup of which I took tomy poor crying maids in their beds,having first put a spoonful of the lastbottle of whisky which the housepossessed into it, for there was neither,sugar nor milk to be had. At midnightthe snow ceased for a few hours, and ahard sharp frost set in; this made ourposition worse, for they could nowmake no impression on the snow, and

only broke the shovels in trying. Ibegan to think seriously of followingthe maids example, in order to "diewarm." We could do nothing but waitpatiently. I went up to a sort of atticwhere odds and ends were stowedaway, in search of something to eat, butcould find nothing more tempting thana supply of wax matches. We knewthere was a cat under the house, for weheard her mewing; and it was suggestedto take up the carpets first, then theboards, and have a hunt for the poorold pussy but we agreed to bear ourhunger a little longer, chiefly, I amafraid, because she was known to beboth thin and aged.

Towards noon on Sunday the weathersuddenly changed, and rain began tocome down heavily and steadily; thischeered us all immensely, as it wouldwash the snow away probably, and so itdid to some degree; the highest driftsnear the house lessened considerably ina few hours, and the gentlemen, who bythis time were desperately hungry, madea final attempt in the direction of thefowl-house, found the roof, tore offsome shingles, and returned with a fewaged hens, which were mere bundles offeathers after their week's starvation.The servants consented to rise andpluck them, whilst the gentlemensallied forth once more to the stock-yard, and with great difficulty got off

two of the cap or top rails, so we had asplendid though transitory blaze, andsome hot stewed fowl; it was more of asoup than anything else, but still wethought it delicious: and theneverybody went to bed again, for thehouse was quite dark still, and the oiland candles were running very low. OnMonday morning the snow was washedoff the roof a good deal by the delugeof rain which had never ceased tocome steadily down, and the windowswere cleared a little, just at the top; butwe were delighted with theimprovement, and some cold weakfowl-soup for breakfast, which wethought excellent. On getting out ofdoors, the gentlemen reported the

creeks to be much swollen and rushingin yellow streams down the sides of thehills over the snow, which wasapparently as thick as ever; but it wasnow easier to get through at the surface,though quite solid for many feet fromthe ground. A window was scrapedclear, through which I could see thedesolate landscape out of doors, andsome hay was carried with muchtrouble to the starving cows and horses,but this was a work of almostincredible difficulty. Some more fowlswere procured to-day, nearly the last,for a large hole in the roof showedmost of them dead of cold andhunger.

We were all in much better spirits onthis night, for there were signs of thewind shifting from south to north-west; and, for the first time in our livesI suppose, we were anxiously watchingand desiring this change, as it was theonly chance of saving the thousandsof sheep and lambs we now knew layburied under the smooth whitewinding-sheet of snow. Before bedtimewe heard the fitful gusts we knew sowell, and had never before hailed withsuch deep joy and thankfulness. Everytime I woke the same welcome soundof the roaring warm gale met my ears;and we were prepared for the pleasantsight, on Tuesday morning, of thehighest rocks on the hill-tops standing

out gaunt and bare once more. Thewind was blowing the snow off thehills in clouds like spray, and melting iteverywhere so rapidly that we began tohave a new anxiety, for the creeks wererising fast, and running in wide, angry-looking rivers over the frozen snow onthe banks. All immediate apprehensionof starvation, however, was removed,for the gentlemen dug a pig out of hisstye, where he had been warm andcomfortable with plenty of straw, andslaughtered him; and in the loft of thestable was found a bag of Indian mealfor fattening poultry, which madeexcellent cakes of bread. It was verynasty having only ice-cold water todrink at every meal. I especially missed

my tea for breakfast; but felt ashamedto grumble, for my disagreeables werevery light compared to those of thethree gentlemen. From morning tonight they were wet through, as thesnow of course melted the momentthey came indoors. All the first part ofthe last week they used to work out ofdoors, trying to get food and fuel, orfeeding the horses, in the teeth of abitter wind, with the snow driving likepowdered glass against their smartinghands and faces; and they were ascheery and merry as possible through itall, trying hard to pretend they wereneither hungry nor cold, when theymust have been both. Going out ofdoors at this stage of affairs simply

meant plunging up to their middle in aslush of half-melted snow which wetthem thoroughly in a moment; and theynever had dry clothes on again till theychanged after dark, when there was nomore possibility of outdoor work.

Wednesday morning broke bright andclear for the first time since Sundayweek; we actually saw the sun.Although the "nor-wester" had done somuch good for us, and a light wind stillblew softly from that quarter, the snowwas yet very deep; but I felt in suchhigh spirits that I determined toventure out, and equipped myself in ahuge pair of F 's riding-boots made ofkangaroo-skin, well greased with weka-

oil to keep the wet out, These I put onover my own thick boots, but myprecautions "did nought avail," for thefirst step I took sank me deep in thesnow over the tops of my enormousboots. They filled immediately, and thenmerely served to keep the snow securelypacked round my ankles; however, Istruggled bravely on, every now andthen sinking up to my shoulders, andhaving to be hauled out by main force.The first thing done was to dig out thedogs, who assisted the process byvigorously scratching away inside andtunnelling towards us. Poor things!how thin they looked, but they werequite warm; and after indulging in along drink at the nearest creek, they

bounded about, like mad creatures. Theonly casualties in the kennels were twolittle puppies, who were lying cuddledup as if they were asleep, but proved tobe stiff and cold; and a very old butstill valuable collie called "Gipsy." Shewas enduring such agonies fromrheumatism that it was terrible to hearher howls; and after trying to relieve herby rubbing, taking her into the stable-and in fact doing all we could for her itseemed better and kinder to shoot hertwo days afterwards.

We now agreed to venture into thepaddock and see what had happened tothe bathing-place about three hundredyards from the house. I don't think I

have told you that the creek had beenhere dammed up with a sod wall twelvefeet high, and a fine deep and broadpond made, which was cleared ofweeds and grass, and kept entirely forthe gentlemen to have a plunge andswim at daylight of a summer'smorning; there had been a wide trenchcut about two feet from the top, so asto carry off the water, and hitherto thishad answered perfectly. The first thingwe had to do was to walk over the highfive-barred gate leading into thepaddock just the topmost bar wassticking up, but there was not a trace ofthe little garden-gate or of the fence,which was quite a low one. We were,however, rejoiced to see that on the

ridges of the sunny downs there werepatches, or rather streaks, of tussocksvisible, and they spread in size everymoment, for the sun was quite warm,and the "nor'-wester," had done muchtowards softening the snow. It took usa long time to get down to where thebathing-place had been, for the sod wallwas quite carried away, and there wasnow only a heap of ruin, with a muddytorrent pouring through the large gapand washing it still more away. Close tothis was a very sunny sheltered down,or rather hill; and as the snow wasrapidly melting off its warm slopingsides we agreed to climb it and see ifany sheep could be discovered, for upto this time there had been none seen

or heard, though we knew severalthousands must be on this flat and theadjoining ones.

As soon as we got to the top the firstglance showed us a small dusky patchclose to the edge of one of the deepestand widest creeks at the bottom of thepad-dock; experienced eyes saw theywere sheep, but to me they had not theshape of animals at all, though theywere quite near enough to be seendistinctly. I observed the gentlemenexchange looks of alarm, and they saidto each other some low words, fromwhich I gathered that they feared theworst. Before we went down to the flatwe took a long, careful look round, and

made out another patch, dark bycomparison with the snow, some twohundred yards lower down the creek,but apparently in the water. On theother side of the little hill the snowseemed to have drifted even moredeeply, for the long narrow valleywhich lay there presented, as far as wecould see, one smooth, level snow-field. On the dazzling white surface theleast fleck shows, and I can never forgethow beautiful some swamp-hens, withtheir dark blue plumage, short, pert,white tails, and long bright legs, looked,as they searched slowly along the banksof the swollen creek for some traces oftheir former haunts; but every tuft oftohi-grass lay bent and buried deep

beneath its heavy covering. Thegentlemen wanted me to go homebefore they attempted to see the extentof the disaster, which we all felt mustbe very great; but I found it impossibleto do anything but accompany them. Iam half glad and half sorry now that Iwas obstinate; glad because I helped alittle at a time when the least help wasprecious, and sorry because it was reallysuch a horrible sight. Even the firstglance showed us that, as soon as wegot near the spot we had observed, wewere walking on frozen sheepembedded in the snow one over theother; but at all events their misery hadbeen over some time. It was morehorrible to see the drowning, or just

drowned, huddled-up "mob" (as sheepen masse are technically called) whichhad made the dusky patch we hadnoticed from the hill.

No one can ever tell how manyhundred ewes and lambs had takenrefuge under the high terrace whichforms the bank of the creek. The snowhad soon covered them up, but theyprobably were quite warm and dry atfirst. The terrible mischief was causedby the creek rising so rapidly, and,filtering through the snow which itgradually dissolved, drowned them asthey stood huddled together. Thosenearest the edge of the water of coursewent first, but we were fortunately in

time to save a good many, though theliving seemed as nothing compared tothe heaps of dead. We did not waste amoment in regrets or idleness; the mostexperienced of the gentlemen saidbriefly what was to be done, and tookhis coat off; the other coats and mylittle Astrachan jacket were lying by itsside in an instant, and we all set towork, sometimes up to our knees in icywater, digging at the bank of snowabove us if you can call it digging whenwe had nothing but our hands to dig,or rather scratch, with. Oh, how hot wewere in five minutes! the sun beating onus, and the reflection from the snowmaking its rays almost blinding. It wasof no use my attempting to rescue the

sheep, for I could not move them, evenwhen I had scrattled the snow away fromone. A sheep, especially with its fleecefull of snow, is beyond my smallpowers: even the lambs I found atremendous weight, and it must havebeen very absurd, if an idler had beenby, to see me, with a little lamb in myarms, tumbling down at every secondstep, but still struggling manfullytowards the dry oasis where we puteach animal as it was dug out. The deardoggies helped us beautifully, workingso eagerly and yet so wisely under theirmaster's eye, as patient and gentle withthe poor stiffened creatures as if theycould feel for them. I was astonished atthe vitality of some of the survivors; if

they had been very far back and notchilled by the water, they were quitelively. The strongest sheep were putacross the stream by the dogs, whowere obedient to their master's finger,and not to be induced on any terms toallow the sheep to land a yard to oneside of the place on the opposite bank,but just where they were to go. A goodmany were swept away, but after sixhours' work we counted 1,400 rescuedones slowly "trailing" up the low sunnyhill I have mentioned, and nibbling atthe tussocks as they went. Theproportion of lambs was, of course,very small, but the only wonder to meis that there were any alive at all. If Ihad been able to stop my scratching but

for a moment, I would have had whatthe servants call a "good cry" over onelittle group I laid bare. Two fine youngewes were standing leaning against eachother in a sloping position, like a tent,frozen and immoveable: between them,quite dry, and as lively as a kitten, was adear little lamb of about a month oldbelonging to one; the lamb of the otherlay curled up at her feet, dead and cold;I really believe they had hit upon thisway of keeping the other alive. A morepathetic sight I never beheld.

It is needless to say that we were allmost dreadfully exhausted by the timethe sun went down, and it began tofreeze; nothing but the sheer

impossibility of doing anything morein the hardening snow and approachingdarkness made us leave off even then,though we had not tasted food all day.The gentlemen took an old ewe, whocould not stand, though it was notactually dead, up to the stable andkilled it, to give the poor dogs a goodmeal, and then they had to get somemore rails off the stock-yard to cookour own supper of pork and maize.

The next morning was again brightwith a warm wind; so the effect of thenight's frost soon disappeared, and wewere hard at work directly afterbreakfast. Nothing would induce me tostay at home, but I armed myself with a

coal-scoop to dig, and we made ourway to the other "mob;" but, alas! therewas nothing to do in the way of savinglife, for all the sheep were dead. Therewas a large island formed at a bend inthe creek, where the water had sweptwith such fury round a point as towash the snow and sheep all awaytogether, till at some little obstacle theybegan to accumulate in a heap. Icounted ninety-two dead ewes in onespot, but I did not stay to count thelambs. We returned to the place wherewe had been digging the day before,and set the dogs to hunt in the drifts;wherever they began to scratch weshovelled the snow away, and were sureto find sheep either dead or nearly so:

however, we liberated a good manymore. This sort of work continued tillthe following Saturday, when Freturned, having had a most dangerousjourney, as the roads are still blockedup in places with snow-drifts; but hewas anxious to get back, knowing Imust have been going through "hardtimes." He was terribly shocked at thestate of things among the sheep; inChristchurch no definite news hadreached them from any quarter: all thecoaches were stopped and the telegraphwires broken down by the snow. Hearrived about mid-day, and, directlyafter the meal we still called dinner,started off over the hills to my "nest ofCockatoos," and brought back some of

the men with him to help to search forthe sheep, and to skin those that weredead as fast as possible. He workedhimself all day at the skinning, ahorrible job; but the fleeces were worthsomething, and soon all the fences, asthey began to emerge from the snow,were tapestried with these ghastly skins,and walking became most disagreeable,on account of the evil odours arisingevery few yards.

We forgot all our personal sufferings inanxiety about the surviving sheep, andwhen the long-expected dray arrived itseemed a small boon compared to thediscovery of a nice little "mob" feedingtranquilly on a sunny spur. It is

impossible to estimate our loss until thegrand muster at shearing, but we mayset it down at half our flock, and allour lambs, or at least 90 per cent. ofthem. Our neighbours are all as busy aswe are, so no accurate accounts of theirsufferings or losses have reached us;but, to judge by appearances, thedistant "back-country" ranges musthave felt the storm more severely eventhan we have; and although the snowdid not drift to such a depth on theplains as with us, or lie so long on theground, they suffered just as much, forthe sheep took shelter under the highriver-banks, and the tragedy of thecreeks was enacted on a still larger scale;or they drifted along before the first

day's gale till they came to a wire fence,and there they were soon covered up,and trampled each other to death. Notonly were sheep, but cattle, found deadin hundreds along the fences on theplains. The newspapers give half amillion as a rough estimate of the lossamong the flocks in this provincealone. We have no reliable news fromother parts of the island, only vaguerumours of the storm having been stillmore severe in the Province of Otago,which lies to the south, and would beright in its track; the only thing whichall are agreed in saying is, that therenever has been such a storm before, forthe Maories are strong in weathertraditions, and though they prophesied

this one, it is said they have no legendof anything like it ever havinghappened.

Letter XXI: Wild cattle hunting in theKowai Bush.

Mount Torlesse, October 1867. We arestaying for a week at a charming littlewhite cottage covered with roses andhoneysuckles, nestled under theshadow of this grand mountain, tomake some expeditions after wild cattlein the great Kowai Bush. I am afraidthat it does not sound a very orderlyand feminine occupation, but I enjoy it

thoroughly, and have covered myselfwith glory and honour by my powersof walking all day.

We have already spent three long happydays in the Bush, and although theyhave not resulted in much slaughter ofour big game, still I for one am quite aswell pleased as if we had returnedladen with as many beeves as used tocome in from a border foray. I am notgoing to inflict an account of eachexpedition on you; one will serve togive an idea of all, for though there isno monotony in Nature, it may chancethat frequent descriptions of herbecome so, and this I will not risk.

Our ride over here was a sufficientlyridiculous affair, owing to themisbehaviour of the pack-horse, for itwas impossible upon this occasion tomanage with as little luggage as usual,so we arranged to take a good-sizedcarpet-bag (a most unheard-of luxury),and on each side of it was to be slung arifle and a gun, and smaller bags ofbullets, shot, and powder-flasks,disposed to the best advantage on thepack-saddle. This was all very well intheory, but when it came to the point,the proper steady old horse who was tobear the pack was not forthcoming! Hehad taken it into his head to go on avisit to a neighbouring run, so the onlyavailable beast was a young chestnut of

most uncertain temper. The process ofsaddling him was a long one, as heobjected to each item of his load assoon as it was put on, especially to theguns; but F was very patient, and tookgood care to tie and otherwise fasteneverything so that it was impossible for"Master Tucker" (called, I suppose,after the immortal Tommy) to get ridof his load by either kicking orplunging. At last we mounted and rodeby a bridle-path among the hills forsome twelve miles or so, then acrosshalf-a-dozen miles of plain, and finallywe forded a river. The hill-track wasabout as bad as a path could be, withseveral wide jumps across creeks at thebottom of the numerous deep ravines,

or gullies as we call them. F rode firstfor we could only go in single file withthe detestable Tucker's bridle over hisarm; then came the chestnut, with hisears well back, and his eyes all whites, inhis efforts to look at his especialaversion, the guns; he kicked all the waydown the many hills, and pulled backin the most aggravating manner at eachascent, and when we came to a creek satdown on his tail, refusing to stir. Myposition was a most trying one; thetrack was so bad that I would fain havegiven my mind entirely to my ownsafety, but instead of this all myattention was centred on Tucker theodious. When we first started Iexpressed to F my fear that Tucker

would fairly drag him off his ownsaddle, and he admitted that it was verylikely, adding, "You must flog him."This made me feel that it entirelydepended on my efforts whether F wasto be killed or not, so I providedmyself with a small stock-whip inaddition to my own little riding-whip,and we set off. From the first yardTucker objected to go, but there werefriendly sticks to urge him on; however,we soon got beyond the reasonablelimits of help, and I tried desperately toimpress upon Tucker that I was goingto be very severe: for this purpose Iflourished my stock-whip in a way thatdrove my own skittish mare nearlyfrantic, and never touched Tucker,

whom F was dragging along by mainforce. At last I gave up the stock-whip,with its unmanageable three yards oflash, and dropped it on the track, to bepicked up as we came home. I nowtried to hit Tucker with my horse-whip,but he flung his heels up in Helen'sface the moment I touched him. I wasin perfect despair, very much afraid ofa sudden swerve on my mare's partsending us both down the precipice,and in equal dread of seeing F pulledoff his saddle by Tucker's suddenlyplanting his fore-feet firmly together: Fhimself, with the expression of amartyr, looking round every now andthen to say, "Can't you make him comeon " and I hitting wildly and vainly,

feeling all the time that I was worsethan useless. At last the bright ideaoccurred to me to ride nearly alongsideof the fiendish Tucker, but a littleabove him on the hill, so as to be ableto strike him fairly without fear of hisheels. As far as Tucker was concernedthis plan answered perfectly, for hesoon found out he had to go; butHelen objected most decidedly to beingtaken off the comparative safety of thetrack and made to walk on a slippery,sloping hill, where she could hardlykeep her feet; however, we got on muchfaster this way. Oh, how tired I was ofstriking Tucker! I don't believe I hurthim much, but I felt quite cruel. Whenwe came to the plain, I begged F to let

me lead him; so we changed, and therewas no holding back on the chestnut'spart then; it must have been like thegrass and the stones in the fable. I neverwas more thankful than when that ridewas over, though its disagreeables weresoon forgotten in the warm welcomewe received from our bachelor hosts,and the incessant discussions about thenext day's excursion.

We had finished breakfast by seveno'clock the following morning, andwere ready to start. Of course thegentlemen were very fussy about theirequipments, and hung themselves allover with cartridges and bags of bulletsand powder-flasks; then they had to

take care that their tobacco-pouchesand match-boxes were filled; and lastly,each carried a little flask of brandy orsherry, in case of being lost and havingto camp out. I felt quite unconcerned,having only my flask with cold tea in itto see about, and a good walking-stickwas easily chosen. My costume may bedescribed as uncompromising, for ithad been explained to me that therewere no paths but real rough bushwalking; so I dispensed with all littlefeminine adornments even to thedearly-loved chignon, tucked my hairaway as if I was going to put on abathing-cap, and covered it with aScotch bonnet. The rest of my toilettemust have been equally shocking to the

eyes of taste, and I have reason tobelieve the general effect most hideous;but one great comfort was, no onelooked at me, they were all too muchabsorbed in preparations for a greatslaughter, and I only came at all uponsufferance; the unexpressed butprevailing dread, I could plainly see,was that I should knock up andbecome a bore, necessitating an earlyreturn home; but I knew better!

An American waggon and some ponieswere waiting to take the whole party tothe entrance of the bush, about fourmiles off, and, in spite of having tocross a rough river-bed, which is alwaysa slow process, it did not take us very

long to reach our first point. Here wedismounted, just at the edge of thegreat dense forest, and, with as littledelay as possible in fine arrangements,struck into a path or bullock-track,made for about three miles into thebush for the convenience of draggingout the felled trees by ropes or chainsattached to bullocks; they are notplaced upon a waggon, so you mayeasily imagine the state the track was in,ploughed up by huge logs of timberdragged on the ground, and by thebullocks' hoofs besides. It was a mereslough with deep holes of mud in it,and we scrambled along its extremeedge, chiefly trusting to the trees oneach side, which still lay as they had

been felled, the men not consideringthem good enough to remove. At lastwe came to a clearing, and I quitedespair of making you understand howromantic and lovely this open space inthe midst of the tall trees looked thatbeautiful spring morning. Iinvoluntarily thought of thedescriptions in "Paul and Virginia," forthe luxuriance of the growth was quitetropical. For about two acres the treeshad been nearly all felled, only one ortwo giants remaining; their stumps werealready hidden by clematis and wildcreepers of other kinds, or by a sort offern very like the hart's-tongue, whichwill only grow on the bark of trees, andits glossy leaves made an exquisite

contrast to the rough old root. The"bushmen" as the men who havebought twenty-acre sections and settledin the bush are called had scatteredEnglish grass-seed all over the rich leafymould, and the ground was coveredwith bright green grass, kept short andthick by a few tame goats browsingabout. Before us was the steep bank ofthe river Waimakiriri, and a few yardsfrom its edge stood a picturesquegable-ended little cottage surroundedby a rustic fence, which enclosed a stripof garden gay with common Englishspring flowers, besides more usefulthings, potatoes, etc. The river wasabout two hundred yards broad justhere, and though it foamed below us,

we could also see it stretching away inthe distance almost like a lake, till agreat bluff hid it from our eyes.Overhead the trees were alive withflocks of wild pigeons, ka-kas,parroquets, and other birds, chatteringand twittering incessantly and as westood on the steep bank and lookeddown, I don't think a minute passedwithout a brace of wild ducks flyingpast, grey, blue, and Paradise. Theselatter are the most beautiful plumagedbirds I ever saw belonging to the ducktribe, and, when young, are very goodeating, quite as delicate as the famouscanvas-back. This sight so excited ouryounger sportsmen that they scrambleddown the high precipice, followed by a

water-spaniel, and in five minutes hadbagged as many brace. We could notgive them any more time, for it was pastnine o'clock, and we were all eager tostart on the serious business of the day;but before we left, the mistress of thischarming "bush-hut" insisted on ourhaving some hot coffee and scones andwild honey, a most delicious secondbreakfast. There was a pretty little girlgrowing up, and a younger child, boththe picture of health; the onlydrawback seemed to be the mosquitoes;it was not very lonely, for one or twoother huts stood in clearings adjoining,and furnished us with three bushmenas guides and assistants. I must say, theywere the most picturesque of the party,

being all handsome men, dressed in redflannel shirts and leathernknickerbockers and gaiters; they hadfine beards, and wore "diggers' hats," ahead-dress of American origin a sortof wide-awake made of plush, capableof being crushed into any shape, andvery becoming. All were armed witheither rifle or gun, and one carried anaxe and a coil of rope; another had agun such as is seldom seen out of anarsenal; it was an old flint lock, but hadbeen altered to a percussion; its ownerwas very proud of it, not so much forits intrinsic beauty, though it once hadbeen a costly and splendid weapon andwas elaborately inlaid with mother-of-pearl, but because it had belonged to a

former Duke of Devonshire. In spiteof its claims to consideration on thishead as well as its own beauty, we alleyed it with extreme disfavour onaccount of a peculiarity it possessed ofnot going off when it was intended todo so, but about five minutesafterwards.

It was suggested to me very politelythat I might possibly prefer to remainbehind and spend the day in thispicturesque spot, but this offer Ideclined steadily; I think the bushmenobjected to my presence more than anyone else, as they really meant work, anddreaded having to turn back for a tired"female" (they never spoke of me by

any other term). At last all theinformation was collected about theprobable whereabouts of the wildcattle it was so contradictory, that itmust have been difficult to arrange anyplan by it, and we started. A fewhundred yards took us past theclearings and into the very heart of theforest. We had left the sun shiningbrightly overhead; here it was all a"great green gloom." I must describe toyou the order in which we marched.First came two of the most experienced"bush-hands," who carried a tomahawkor light axe with which to clear themost cruel of the brambles away, andto notch the trees as a guide to us onour return; and also a compass, for we

had to steer for a certain point, thebearings of which we knew of coursethe procession was in Indian file: nextto these pioneers walked, verycautiously, almost on tiptoe, four ofour sportsmen; then I came; and fouror five others, less keen or less wellarmed, brought up the rear. I may hereconfess that I endured in silenceagonies of apprehension for mypersonal safety all day. It was sodreadful to see a bramble or wildcreeper catch in the lock of the riflebefore me, and to reflect that, unless itsowner was very careful, it might "gooff of its own accord," and to knowthat I was exposed to a similar dangerfrom those behind.

We soon got on the fresh tracks ofsome cows, and proceeded mostcautiously and silently; but it couldhardly be called walking, it wasalternately pushing through denseundergrowth, crawling beneath, orclimbing over, high barricades made byfallen trees. These latter obstacles Ifound the most difficult, for the barkwas so slippery; and once, when withmuch difficulty I had scrambled up apile of debris at least ten feet high, Iincautiously stepped on some rottenwood at the top, and went through itinto a sort of deep pit, out of which itwas very hard to climb. On comparingnotes afterwards, we found, that

although we had walked without amoment's cessation for eleven hoursduring the day, a pedometer only gavetwenty-two miles as the distanceaccomplished. Before we had been inthe bush half an hour our faces wereterribly scratched and bleeding, and sowere the gentlemen's hands; my wristsalso suffered, as my gauntlets wouldnot do their duty and lie flat. Therewere myriads of birds around us, allperfectly tame; many flew from twig totwig, accompanying us with their littlepert heads on one side full of curiosity;the only animals we saw were somewild sheep looking very disreputablewith their long tails and torn, trailingfleeces of six or seven years' growth.

There are supposed to be somehundreds of these in the bush whohave strayed into it years ago, when theywere lambs, from neighbouring runs.The last man in the silent processionput a match into a dead tree every hereand there, to serve as a torch to guideus back in the dark; but this requiredgreat judgment for fear of setting thewhole forest on fire: the tree required tobe full of damp decay, which wouldonly smoulder and not blaze. Weintended to steer for a station on theother side of a narrow neck of theGreat Bush, ten miles off, as nearly aswe could guess, but we made manydetours after fresh tracks. Once thesehoof-marks led us to the brink of such

a pretty creek, exactly like a Scotchburn, wide and noisy, tumbling downfrom rock to rock, but not very deep.After a whispered consultation, it wasdetermined to follow up this creek to awell-known favourite drinking-place ofthe cattle, but it was easier walking inthe water than on the densely-grownbanks, so all the gentlemen stepped inone after another. I hesitated a momentwith one's usual cat-like antipathy towet feet, when a stalwart bushmanapproached, with rather a victimised airand the remark: "Ye're heavy, nae doot,to carry." I was partly affronted at thisprejudgment of the case, and partlydetermined to show that I was equal tothe emergency, for I immediately

jumped into the water, frighteningmyself a good deal by the tremendoussplash I made, and meeting reprovingglances; and nine heads were shakenviolently at me.

Nothing could be more beautiful thanthe winding banks of this creek,fringed with large ferns in endlessvariety; it was delightful to see the sunand sky once more overhead, but Icannot say that it was the easiestpossible walking, and I soon found outthat the cleverest thing to do was towade a little way behind the shortestgentleman of the party, for when hedisappeared in a hole I knew it in timeto avoid a similar fate; whereas, as long

as I persisted in stalking solemnly aftermy own tall natural protector, I foundthat I was always getting intodifficulties in unexpectedly deep places.I saw the bushmen whispering together,and examining the rocks in someplaces, but I found on inquiry that theirthoughts were occupied at the momentby other ideas than sport; one of themhad been a digger, and waspronouncing an opinion that this creekwas very likely to prove a "home of thegold" some day. There is a strongfeeling prevalent that gold will befound in great quantities all over theisland. At this time of the year thewater is very shallow, but the streamevidently comes down with

tremendous force in the winter; andthey talk of having "found the colour"(of gold) in some places. We proceededin this way for about three miles, till wereached a beautiful, clear, deep pool,into which the water fell from a heightin a little cascade; the banks here werewell trodden, and the hoof-prints quiterecent; great excitement was caused byhearing a distant lowing, but after muchlistening, in true Indian fashion, withthe ear to the ground, everybody wasof a different opinion as to the sidefrom whence the sound proceeded, sowe determined to keep on our originalcourse; the compass was once moreproduced, and we struck into a densewood of black birch.

Ever since we left the clearing fromwhich the start was made, we hadturned our backs on the river, butabout three o'clock in the afternoon wecame suddenly on it again, and stoodon the most beautiful spot I ever saw inmy life. We were on the top of a highprecipice, densely wooded to thewater's edge. Some explorers in bygonedays must have camped here, for half-a-dozen trees were felled, and the thickbrush-wood had been burnt for a fewyards, just enough to let us take in themagnificent view before and around us.Below roared and foamed, among greatboulders washed down from the cliff,the Waimakiriri; in the middle of it lay a

long narrow strip of white shingle,covered with water in the winter floods,but now shining like snow in the brightsunlight. Beyond this the river flowedas placidly as a lake, in cool greendepths, reflecting every leaf of theforest on the high bank or cliffopposite. To our right it stretched away,with round headlands covered withtimber running down in soft curves tothe water. But on our left was the mostperfect composition for a picture in theforeground a great reach of smoothwater, except just under the bank westood on, where the current was strongand rapid; a little sparkling beach, and avast forest rising up from its narrowborder, extending over chain after chain

of hills, till they rose to the glacialregion, and then the splendid peaks ofthe snowy range broke the deep bluesky line with their grand outlines.

All this beauty would have been almosttoo oppressive, it was on such a largescale and the solitude was so intense, ifit had not been for the pretty littletouch of life and movement affordedby the hut belonging to the station wewere bound for. It was only a roughbuilding, made of slabs of wood withcob between; but there was a bit offence and the corner of a garden andan English grass paddock, whichlooked about as big as a pocket-handkerchief from where we stood. A

horse or two and a couple of cowswere tethered near, and we could hearthe bark of a dog. A more completehermitage could not have been desiredby Diogenes himself, and for the firsttime we felt ashamed of invading therecluse in such a formidable body, butungrudging, open-handed hospitality isso universal in New Zealand that wetook courage and began our descent. Itreally was like walking down the sideof a house, and no one could stir a stepwithout at least one arm round a tree. Ihad no gun to carry, so I clungfrantically with both arms to each stemin succession. The steepness of thecliff was the reason we could take in allthe beauty of the scene before us, for

the forest was as thick as ever; but wecould see over the tops of the trees, asthe ground dropped sheer down,almost in a straight line from theplateau we had been travelling on allday. As soon as we reached the shingle,on which we had to walk for a fewhundred yards, we bethought ourselvesof our toilettes; the needle and thread Ihad brought did good service inmaking us more presentable. Wediscovered, however, that our faceswere a perfect network of finescratches, some of which would go onbleeding, in spite of cold-waterapplications. Our boots were nearly dry;and my petticoat, short as it was,proved to be the only damp garment:

this was the fault of my first jump intothe water. We put the least scratchedand most respectable-looking memberof the party in the van, and followedhim, amid much barking of dogs, tothe low porch; and after hearing acheery "Come in," answering ourmodest tap at the door, we trooped inone after the other till the little roomwas quite full. I never saw suchastonishment on any human face as onthat of the poor master of the house,who could not stir from his chair bythe fire, on account of a bad wound inhis leg from an axe. There he sat quitehelpless, a moment ago so solitary, aridnow finding himself the centre of alarge, odd-looking crowd of strangers.

He was a middle-aged Scotchman,probably of not a very elevatedposition in life, and had passed manyyears in this lonely spot, and yet heshowed himself quite equal to theoccasion.

After that first uncontrollable look ofamazement he did the honours of hispoor hut with the utmost courtesy andtrue good-breeding. His only apologywas for being unable to rise from hisarm-chair (made out of half a barreland an old flour-sack by the way); hemade us perfectly welcome, took it forgranted we were hungry hunger is avery mild word to express my appetite,for one called by a loud coo-ee to his

man Sandy, to whom he gave ordersthat the best in the house should be putbefore us, and then began to inquire bywhat road we had come, what sport wehad, etc., all in the nicest way possible. Inever felt more awkward in my life thanwhen I stooped to enter that lowdoorway, and yet in a minute I wasquite at my ease again; but of the wholeparty I was naturally the one whopuzzled him the most. In the first place,I strongly suspect that he had doubts asto my being anything but a boy in arather long kilt; and when this pointwas explained, he could not understandwhat a "female," as he also called me,was doing on a rough huntingexpedition. He particularly inquired

more than once if I had come of myown free will, and could notunderstand what pleasure I found inwalking so far. Indeed he took it socompletely for granted that I must beexhausted, that he immediately beganto make plans for F and me to stopthere all night, offering to give up his"bunk" (some slabs of wood made intoa shelf, with a tussock mattress and ablanket), and to sleep himself in hisarm-chair.

In the meantime, Sandy was preparingour meal. There was an open hearthwith a fine fire, and a big black kettlehanging over it by a hook fastenedsomewhere up the chimney. As soon as

this boiled he went to a chest, or ratherlocker, and brought a double-handfulof tea, which he threw into the kettle;then he took from a cupboard thebiggest loaf, of bread I ever saw a hugething, which had been baked in acamp-oven and flapped it down on thetable with a bang; next he produced atin milk-pan, and returned to thecupboard to fetch out by the shank-bone a mutton-ham, which he placedin the milk-dish: a bottle of capitalwhisky was forthcoming from the sameplace; a little salt on one newspaper,and brown, or rather black, sugar onanother, completed the arrangements,and we were politely told by Sandy to"wire in," digger's phraseology for an

invitation to commence, which we didimmediately, as soon as we could makean arrangement about the four tinplates and three pannikins. I had one allto myself, but the others managed bytwos and threes to each plate. I neverhad a better luncheon in my life;everything was excellent in its way, andwe all possessed what we are told is thebest sauce. Large as the supplies were,we left hardly anything, and the morewe devoured the more pleased our hostseemed. There were no chairs; we saton logs of trees rudely chopped intosomething like horse-blocks, but totired limbs which had known no restfrom six hours' walking they seemeddelightful. After we had finished our

meal, the gentlemen went outside tohave half a pipe before setting offagain; they dared not smoke whilst wewere after the cattle, for fear of theirperceiving some unusual smell; and Iremained for ten minutes with Mr . Ifound that he was very fond ofreading; his few books were all of agood stamp, but he was terribly hard-up for anything which he had not reada hundred times over. I hastily ran overthe names of some books of my own,which I offered to lend him for as longa time as he liked: and we madeelaborate plans for sending them, ofmy share in which I took amemorandum. He seemed very gratefulat the prospect of having anything new,

especially now that he was likely to belaid up for some weeks, and I intend tomake every effort to give him this greatpleasure as soon as possible.

We exchanged the most hearty farewellswhen the time of parting came, andour host was most earnest in hisentreaties to us to remain; but it was aquestion of getting out of the bushbefore dusk, so we could not delay. Hesent Sandy to guide us by a ratherlonger but easier way than climbing upthe steep cliff to the place where thelittle clearing at its edge which I havementioned had been made; and wedismissed our guide quite happy withcontributions from all the tobacco-

pouches, for no one had any moneywith him. We found our way backagain by the notches on the trees aslong as the light lasted, and when it gottoo dark to see them easily, thesmouldering trunks guided us, and wereached the clearing from which westarted in perfect safety. Good Mrs. Dhad a bountiful tea ready; she wasmuch concerned at our having yetsome three miles of bad walking beforewe could reach the hut on the outskirtsof the bush, where we had left the trapand the ponies. When we got to thispoint there was actually another andstill more sumptuous meal set out forus, to which, alas! we were unable to doany justice; and then we found our way

to the station across the flat, down asteep cutting, and through the river-bed, all in the dark and cold. We hadsupper as soon as we reached home,tumbling into bed as early as might beafterwards for such a sleep as youLondoners don't know anything about.

I have only described one expedition toyou, and that the most unsuccessful, asfar as killing anything goes; but myhunting instincts only lead me to thepoint of reaching the game; when itcomes to that, I always try to save itslife, and if this can't be done, I retire toa distance and stop my ears; indeed, ifvery much over-excited, I can't helpcrying. Consequently, I enjoy myself

much more when we don't killanything; and, on the other occasions, Inever could stop and see even the shotfired which was to bring a fine cow or adear little calf down, but crept away asfar as ever I could, and muffled myhead in my jacket. The bushmen likedthis part of the performance the best, Ibelieve, and acted as butchers veryreadily, taking home a large joint eachto their huts, a welcome change afterthe eternal pigeons, ka-kas, and wildducks on which they live.

Letter XXII: The exceeding joy of"burning."

Broomielaw, December 1867. I amquite sorry that the season for settingfire to the long grass, or, as it istechnically called, "burning the run," isfairly over at last. It has been later thanusual this year, on account of the snowhaving lain such an unusual time onthe ground and kept the grass damp.Generally September is the earliestmonth in which it begins, andNovember the latest for it to end; butthis year the shady side of "Flagpole"was too moist to take fire untilDecember.

It is useless to think of setting out on aburning expedition unless there is a

pretty strong nor'-wester blowing; but itmust not be too violent, or the flameswill fly over the grass, just scorching itinstead of making "a clean burn." Butwhen F pronounces the wind to be justright, and proposes that we should goto some place where the grass is of two,or, still better, three years' growth, thenI am indeed happy. I am obliged to becareful not to have on any inflammablepetticoats, even if it is quite a warm day,as they are very dangerous; the windwill shift suddenly perhaps as, I am inthe very act of setting a tussock a-blaze,and for half a second I find myself inthe middle of the flames. F generallygets his beard well singed, and I havenearly lost my eyelashes more than

once. We each provide ourselves with agood supply of matches, and on theway we look out for the last year's tallblossom of those horrid prickly bushescalled "Spaniards," or a bundle of flax-sticks, or, better than all, the top of adead and dry Ti-ti palm. As soon as wecome to the proper spot, and F hasascertained that no sheep are in dangerof being made into roast muttonbefore their time, we begin to light ourline of fire, setting one large tussockblazing, lighting our impromptutorches at it, and then starting from this"head-centre," one to the right and theother to the left, dragging the blazingsticks along the grass. It is a veryexciting amusement, I assure you, and

the effect is beautiful, especially as itgrows dusk and the fires are racing upthe hills all around us. Every now andthen they meet with a puff of wind,which will perhaps strike a great wallof fire rushing up-hill as straight as aline, and divide it into two fiery hornslike a crescent; then as the breezechanges again, the tips of flame willgradually approach each other till theymeet, and go on again in a solid massof fire.

If the weather has been very dry forsome time and the wind is high, weattempt to burn a great flax swamp,perhaps, in some of the flats. Thismakes a magnificent bonfire when once

it is fairly started, but it is more difficultto light in the first instance, as you haveto collect the dead flax-leaves and makea little fire of them under the big greenbush in order to coax it to blaze up: butit crackles splendidly; indeed it soundsas if small explosions were going onsometimes. But another disadvantageof burning a swamp is, that there aredeep holes every yard or two, intowhich I always tumble in myexcitement, or in getting out of the wayof a flax-bush which has flared up justat the wrong moment, and isthreatening to set me on fire also. Theseholes are quite full of water in thewinter, but now they contain justenough thin mud to come in over the

tops of my boots; so I do not likestepping into one every moment. Westart numerous wild ducks and swamp-hens, and perhaps a bittern or two, bythese conflagrations. On the whole, Ilike burning the hill-sides better thanthe swamp you get a more satisfactoryblaze with less trouble; but I sigh overthese degenerate days when the grass iskept short and a third part of a run isburned regularly ever spring, and longfor the good old times of a dozen yearsago, when the tussocks were six feethigh. What a blaze they must havemade! The immediate results of ourexpeditions are vast tracts of perfectlyblack and barren country, lookingdesolate and hideous to a degree hardly

to be imagined; but after the first springshowers a beautiful tender green tintsteals over the bare hill-sides, and byand by they are a mass of deliciousyoung grass, and the especial favouritefeeding-place of the ewes and lambs.The day after a good burn thousandsof sea-gulls flock to the black ground.Where they spring from I cannot tell, asI never see one at any other time, andtheir hoarse, incessant cry is the firstsign you have of their arrival. Theyhover over the ground, every momentdarting down, for some insect. Theycannot find much else but roastedlizards and, grasshoppers, for I havenever seen a caterpillar in New Zealand.

In the height of the burning season lastmonth I had Alice S to stay with me fortwo or three weeks, and to my greatdelight I found our tastes about firesagreed exactly, and we both had thesame grievance that we never wereallowed to have half enough of it; sowe organized the most delightfulexpeditions together. We used to have aquiet old station-horse saddled, fastenthe luncheon-basket to the pommelwith materials for a five o'clock tea, andstart off miles away to the back of therun, about three o'clock in theafternoon, having previously bribed theshepherd to tell us where the longestgrass was to be found and this he didvery readily, as our going saved him the

trouble of a journey thither, and he wasnot at all anxious for more work thanhe could help. We used to ridealternately, till we got to a desertedshepherd's hut in such a lovely gully,quite at the far end of the run! Here wetied up dear quiet old Jack to theremnants of the fence, leaving him atliberty to nibble a little grass. We nevertook off the saddle after the first time,for upon that occasion we found thatour united strength was insufficient togirth it on again properly, and we madeour appearance at home in the mostignominious fashion Alice leading Jack,and I walking by his side holding thesaddle on. Whenever we attempted tobuckle the girths, this artful old screw

swelled himself out with such a longbreath that it was impossible to pull thestrap to the proper hole; we could noteven get it tight enough to stay steady,without slipping under him at everystep. However, this is a digression, andI must take you back to the scene ofthe fire, and try to make youunderstand how delightful it was. Alicesaid that what made it so fascinating toher was a certain sense of its beingmischief, and a dim feeling that wemight get into a scrape. I don't think Iever stopped to analyse my sensations;fright was the only one I was consciousof, and yet I liked it so much. Whenafter much consultation in which Ialways deferred to Alice's superior

wisdom and experience we determinedon our line of fire, we set to workvigorously, and the great thing was tosee who could make the finest blaze. Iused to feel very envious if my fire gotinto a bare patch, where there weremore rocks than tussocks, andlanguished, whilst Alice's was roaringand rushing up a hill. We alwaysavoided burning where a grove of thepretty Ti-ti palms grew; but sometimesthere would be one or two on a hill-side growing by themselves, and then itwas most beautiful to see them burn.Even before the flames reached themtheir long delicate leaves felt the windof the fire and shivered piteously; thenthe dry old ones at the base of the stem

caught the first spark like tinder, and ina second the whole palm was in a blaze,making a sort of heart to the furnace,as it had so much more substance thanthe grass. For a moment or two thepoor palm would bend and sway,tossing its leaves like fiery plumes in theair, and then it was reduced to a blackstump, and the fire swept on up thehill.

The worst of it all was that we neverknew when to leave off and comehome. We would pause for half anhour and boil our little kettle, and havesome tea and cake, and then go onagain till quite late, getting well scoldedwhen we reached home at last dead-

tired and as black as little chimney-sweeps. One evening F was away on avisit of two nights to a distant friend,and Alice and I determined on havingsplendid burns in his absence; so wemade our plans, and everything wasfavourable, wind and all. We enjoyedourselves very much, but if Mr. U hadnot come out to look for us at teno'clock at night, and traced us by ourblazing track, we should have had tocamp out, for we had no idea where wewere, or that we had wandered so manymiles from home; nor had we anyintention of returning just yet. We werevery much ashamed of ourselves uponthat occasion, and took care to softenthe story considerably before it reached

F 's ears the next day.

However much I may rejoice at nor'-westers in the early spring as aids toburning the run, I find them a greathindrance to my attempts at a lawn.Twice have we had the ground carefullydug up and prepared; twice has it beensown with the best English seed for thepurpose, at some considerable expense;then has come much toil on the part ofF and Mr. U with a heavy garden-roller;and the end of all the trouble has beenthat a strong nor'-wester has blownboth seed and soil away, leaving onlythe hard un-dug (I wonder whetherthere is such a word) ground. I couldscarcely believe that it really was all

"clean gone," as children say, until amonth or two after the first venture,when I had been straining my eyes andexercising my imagination all in vain todiscover a blade where it ought to havebeen, but had remarked in one of mywalks an irregular patch of niceEnglish grass about half a mile fromthe house down the flat. I speculatedfor some time as to how it got there,and at last F was roused from hisreverie, and said coolly, "Oh, that's yourlawn!" When this happens twice, itreally becomes very aggravating: thereare the croquet things lying idle in theverandah year after year, and, as far as Ican see, they are likely to remain unusedfor ever.

Before I close my letter I must tell youof an adventure I have had with a wildboar, which was really dangerous. F andanother gentleman were riding with meone afternoon in a very lonely gully atthe back of the run, when the dogs(who always accompany us) put up alarge, fierce, black, boar out of somethick flax-bushes. Of course thehunting instinct, which all youngEnglishmen possess, was in full forceinstantly; and in default of any weaponthese two jumped off their horses andpicked up, out of the creek close by, thelargest and heaviest stones they couldlift. I disapproved of the chase underthe circumstances, but my timid

remonstrances were not even heard.The light riding-whips which eachgentleman carried were hastily given tome to hold, and in addition F thrust anenormous boulder into my lap, saying,"Now, this is to be my second gun; sokeep close to me." Imagine poor me,therefore, with all three whips tuckedunder my left arm, whilst with my rightI tried to keep the big stone on myknee, Miss Helen all the time caperingabout, as she always does when there isany excitement; and I feeling veryunequal to holding her back fromjoining in the chase too ardently, forshe always likes to be first everywhere,which is not at all my "sentiments." Theground was as rough as possible; the

creek winding about necessitated agood jump every few yards; and thegrass was so long and thick that it wasdifficult to get through it, or to see anyblind creeks or other pitfalls. Mem. toburn this next spring.

The pig first turned to bay against apalm-tree, and soon disabled the dogs.You cannot think what a formidableweapon a wild boar's tusk is the leasttouch of it cuts like a razor; and theyare so swift in their jerks of the headwhen at bay that in a second they willrip up both dogs and horses: nor arethey the least afraid of attacking a manon foot in self-defence; but theyseldom or ever strike the first blow. As

soon as he had disposed of both thedogs, who lay howling piteously andbleeding on the ground, the boar madeat full speed for the spur of a hill closeby. The pace was too good to last,especially up-hill; so the gentlemensoon caught him up, and flung theirstones at him, but they dared not bringtheir valuable horses too near for fearof a wound which probably wouldhave lamed them for life; and a heavy,rock or stone is a very unmanageableweapon. I was not therefore at allsurprised to see that both shots missed,or only very slightly grazed the pig; butwhat I confess to being perfectlyunprepared for was the boar chargingviolently down-hill on poor

unoffending me, with his head on oneside ready for the fatal backward jerk,champing and foaming as he came,with what Mr. Weller would call his"vicked old eye" twinkling with rage.Helen could not realize the situation atall. I tried to turn her, and so get out ofthe infuriated brute's way; but no, shewould press on to meet him and jointhe other horses at the top of the hill. Ihad very little control over her, for Iwas so laden with whips and stonesthat my hands were useless for thereins. I knew I was in great danger, butat the moment I could only think ofmy poor pretty mare lamed for life, oreven perhaps killed on the spot. I heardone wild shout of warning from above,

and I knew the others were galloping tomy rescue; but in certainly less thanhalf a minute from the time the boarturned, he had reached me. I slippedthe reins over my left elbow, so as toleave my hands free, took my whip inmy teeth (I had to drop the others), andlifting the heavy stone with both myhands waited a second till the boar wasnear enough, leaning well over on theright-hand side of the saddle so as tosee what he did. He made for poorHelen's near fore-leg with his head welldown, and I could hear his teethgnashing. Just as he touched her with aprick from his tusk like a stiletto andbefore he could jerk his head back so asto rip the leg up, I flung my small rock

with all the strength I possessed crashon his head: but I could not take agood aim; for the moment Helen feltthe stab, she reared straight up on herhind-legs, and as we were going up-hill,I had some trouble to keep myselffrom slipping off over her tail.However, my rock took some effect, forthe pig was so stunned that he droppedon his knees, and before he couldrecover himself Helen had turnedround, still on her hind-legs, as on apivot, and was plunging and jumpingmadly down the hill. I could not getback properly into my saddle, norcould I arrange the reins; so I had tostick on anyhow. It was not a case offine riding at all; I merely clung like a

monkey, and F , who was coming asfast as he could to me, said he expectedto see me on the ground every moment;but, however, I did not come off uponthat occasion. Helen was nearly besideherself with terror. I tried to pat herneck and soothe her, but the momentshe felt my hand she bounded as if Ihad struck her, and shivered so muchthat I thought she must be injured; sothe moment F could get near her Ibegged him to look at her fetlock. Heled her down to the creek, and washedthe place, and examined it carefully,pronouncing, to my great joy, that thetusk had hardly gone in at all in facthad merely pricked her and that shewas not in the least hurt. I could hardly

get the gentlemen to go to theassistance of the poor dogs, one ofwhich was very much hurt. Both F andMr. B evidently thought I must havebeen "kilt intirely," for my situationlooked so critical at one moment thatthey could scarcely be persuaded thatneither Helen nor I were in the leasthurt. I coaxed F that evening to writeme a doggerel version of the story forthe little boys, which I send you toshow them:

St. Anne and the pig. You've heard ofSt. George and the dragon, Or seenthem; and what can be finer, In silver orgold on a flagon, With Garrard orHancock designer

Though we know very little about him(Saints mostly are shrouded in mystery),Britannia can't well do without him, Hesets off her shillings and history.

And from truth let such tales bedefended, Bards at least should bestowthem their blessing, As a rich sort ofjewel suspended On History whenshe's done dressing.

Some would have her downstairs to thepresent, In plain facts fresh from criticalmangle; But let the nymph makeherself pleasant, Here a bracelet, andthere with a bangle

Such as Bold Robin Hood or RedRiding, Who peasant and prince havedelighted, Despite of all social dividing,And the times of their childhoodunited.

Shall New Zealand have never a fable,A rhyme to be sung by the nurses, Aromance of a famous Round Table, A"Death of Cock Robin" in verses

Or shall not a scribe be found graciousWith pen and with parchment, inditingAnd setting a-sail down the spaciousDeep day stream some suitable writing;

Some action, some name so heroic Thatits sound shall be death to her foemen,

And make her militia as stoic As St.George made the Cressy crossbowmen;

A royal device for her banners, Areverse for her coinage as splendid, Anexample of primitive manners When alltheir simplicity's ended

Here it is, ye isles Antipodean! LeaveBritain her great Cappadocian; I'll chantyou a latter-day paean, And sing you asaint for devotion,

Who on horseback slew also a monster,Though armed with no sharp lance tostab it, Though no helmet or hauberkensconced her, But only a hat and ahabit.

This dame, for her bravery sainted, Setup for all times' adoration, With herpicture in poetry painted, Was a ladywho lived on a station.

Her days to proceed with the story Induties domestic dividing, But, or elseshe had never won glory, She now andthen went out a-riding. It chanced, withtwo knights at her stirrup, She swepto'er the grass of the valleys, Heard thebrooks run; and heard the birdschirrup, When a boar from the flax-bushes sallies.

The cavaliers leaped from their horses;As for weapons, that day neither bore

them; So they chose from the swiftwatercourses Heavy boulders, and heldthem before them.

They gave one as well to the lady: Shetook it, and placed it undaunted On thepommel, and balanced it steady, Whilethey searched where the animalhaunted.

A bowshot beyond her were riding Theknights, each alert with his missile, Butin doubt where the pig went a-hiding,For they had not kept sight of hisbristle.

When the tale needs but little enlargingOne turned round by chance on his

courser; To his horror, the monster wascharging At the lady, as if to unhorseher.

But his fears for her safety were idle,No heart of a hero beat stouter: Shepoised the stone, gathered her bridle Ahalo, 'tis said, shone about her.

With his jaws all extended and horrid,Fierce and foaming, the brute leapt togore her, When she dropped the rockfull on his forehead, And lo! he felldying before her.

There he lay, bristling, tusky, and savage;Such a mouth, as was long ago written;Made Calydon lonely with ravage, By

such teeth young Adonis was bitten.

Then praise to our new Atalanta, Ofthe chase and of song spoils bebrought her, Whose skill and whosestrength did not want a Meleager tofinish the slaughter.

She is sung, and New Zealand shalltake her, Thrice blest to possess such amatron, And give thanks to its firstballad-maker, Who found it a saint fora patron.

Letter XXIII: Concerning a great flood.

Broomielaw, February 1868. Since I lastwrote to you we have been nearlywashed away, by all the creeks andrivers in the country overflowing theirbanks! Christchurch particularly was ingreat danger from the chance of theWaimakiriri returning to its oldchannel, in which case it would sweepaway the town. For several hours halfthe streets were under water, the peoplegoing about in boats, and the Avon wasspread out like a lake over its banks formiles. The weather had been unusuallysultry for some weeks, and during thelast five days the heat had been fargreater, even in the hills, than anyonecould remember. It is often very hotindeed during the mid-day hours in

summer, but a hot night is almostunknown; and, at the elevation we live,there are few evenings in the year whena wood-fire is not acceptable aftersunset; as for a blanket at night, that isseldom left off even in the plains, andis certainly necessary in the hills. Everyone was anxiously looking for rain, asthe grass was getting very dry and thecreeks low, and people were beginningto talk of an Australian summer and toprophesy dismal things of a drought.On a Sunday night about eleven o'clockwe were all sauntering about out ofdoors, finding it too hot to remain inthe verandah; it was useless to think ofgoing to bed; and F and Mr. U agreedthat some great change in the weather

was near. There was a strange stillnessand oppression in the air; the veryanimals had not gone to sleep, but allseemed as restless and wakeful as wewere. I remember we discussed theprobability of a severe earthquake, forthe recent wave at St. Thomas's was ineverybody's mind. F and I had spent afew days in Christchurch the weekbefore. There was a regular low-feverepidemic there, and, he had returned tothe station feeling very unwell; but inthis country illness is so rare that onealmost forgets that such a thing exists,and we both attributed his seediness tothe extraordinary heat.

When we were out of doors that

Sunday evening, we noticed immensebanks and masses of clouds, but theywere not in the quarter from whenceour usual heavy rain comes; andbesides, in New Zealand clouds aremore frequently a sign of high windthan of rain. However, about midnightF felt so ill that he went in to bed, andwe had scarcely got under shelter when,after a very few premonitory drops, therain came down literally in sheets.Almost from the first F spoke of thepeculiar and different sound on theroof, but as he had a great deal of feverthat night, I was too anxious to noticeanything but the welcome fact that therain had come at last, and too glad tohear it to be critical about the sound it

made in falling. I came out to breakfastalone, leaving F still ill, but the fevergoing off. The atmosphere was muchlightened, but the rain seemed like asolid wall of water falling fast andfuriously; the noise on the woodenroof was so great that we had to shoutto each other to make ourselves heard;and when I looked out I wasastonished to see the dimensions towhich the ponds had. swollen. Downall the hill-sides new creeks andwaterfalls had sprung into existenceduring the night. As soon as I hadtaken F his tea and settled downcomfortably to breakfast, I noticed thatinstead of Mr. U looking the picture ofbright good-humour, he wore a

troubled and anxious countenance. Iimmediately inquired if he had beenout of doors that morning Yes, he hadbeen to look at the horses in the stable.Well, I did not feel much interest inthem, for they were big enough to takecare of themselves: so I proceeded toask if he had chanced to see anythingof my fifty young ducks or mynumerous broods of chickens. Uponthis question Mr. U looked still moreunhappy and tried to turn theconversation, but my suspicions werearoused and I persisted; so at last hebroke to me, with much precaution,that I was absolutely without aduckling or a chicken in the world!They had been drowned in the night,

and nothing was to be seen butcountless draggled little corpses, whatMr. Mantilini called "moist unpleasantbodies," floating on the pond orwhirling in the eddies of the creek.That was not even the worst. Every oneof my sitting hens was drowned also,their nests washed away; so were thehalf-dozen beautiful ducks, with sometwelve or fourteen eggs under each. Ifelt angry with the ducks, and thoughtthey might have at any rate saved theirown lives; but nothing could alter themelancholy returns of the missing anddead. My poultry-yard was, for allpractical purposes, annihilated, just as itwas at its greatest perfection and thepride and joy of my heart. All that day

the rain descended steadily in torrents;there was not the slightest break orvariation in the downpour: it was asheavy as that of the Jamaica seasons ofMay and October. F 's fever left him atthe end of twelve hours, and he got upand came into the drawing-room; hisfirst glance out of the window, whichcommanded a view of the flat for twoor three miles, showed him how muchthe waters had risen since midnight;and he said that in all the years he hadknown those particular creeks he hadnever seen them so high: still I thoughtnothing of it. There was no cessationin the rain for exactly twenty-fourhours; but at midnight on Monday, justas poor F was getting another attack of

fever, it changed into heavy, brokenshowers, with little pauses of finedrizzle between, and by morning itshowed signs of clearing, butcontinued at intervals till midday. Theeffect was extraordinary, consideringthe comparatively short time the realdownpour had lasted. The whole flatwas under water, the creeks wereflooded beyond their banks for half amile or so on each side, and the riverSelwyn, which ran under some hills,bounding our view, was spread out,forming an enormous lake. A veryconspicuous object on these oppositehills, which are between three and fourmiles distant, was a bold cliff knownby the name of the "White Rocks," and

serving as a landmark to all thecountryside: we could hardly believeour eyes when we missed the mostprominent of these and could see onlya great bare rent in the mountain. Thehouse was quite surrounded by waterand stood on a small island; it wasimpossible even to wade for more thana few yards beyond the dry ground, forthe water became quite deep and thecurrent was running fast. F 's feverlasted its twelve hours; but I began tobe fidgety at the state of prostration itleft him in, and when Tuesday nightbrought a third and sharper attack, Idetermined to make him go to townand see a doctor during his nextinterval of freedom from it.

Wednesday morning was bright andsunny, but the waters had not muchdiminished: however, we knew everyhour must lessen them, and I onlywaited for F 's paroxysm of fever tosubside about mid-day to send him offto Christchurch. I had exhausted mysimple remedies, consisting of aspoonful of sweet spirits of nitre and alittle weak brandy and water and didnot think it right to let things go on inthis way without advice: he was soweak he could hardly mount his horse;indeed he had to be fairly lifted on theold quiet station hack I have beforementioned with such deep affection,dear old Jack. It was impossible for him

to go alone; so the ever-kind andconsiderate Mr. U offered toaccompany him. This was the greatestcomfort to me, though I and my twomaids would be left all alone duringtheir absence: however, that was muchbetter than poor F going by himself inhis weak state. Six hours of sunshinehad greatly abated the floods, and as faras we could see the water was quiteshallow now where it had overflowed. Isaw them set off therefore with a goodhope of their accomplishing thejourney safely. Judge of myastonishment and horror when, ongoing to see what the dogs werebarking at, about two hours later, Ibeheld F and Mr. U at the garden gate,

dripping wet up to their shoulders, butlaughing very much. Of course Iimmediately thought of F 's fever, andmade him come in and change; andhave some hot tea directly; but hewould not go to bed as I suggested,declaring that the shock of hisunexpected cold bath, and theexcitement of a swim for his life, haddone him all the good in the world; andI may tell you at once; that it hadcompletely cured him: he ate well thatevening, slept well, and had no returnof his fever, regaining his strengthcompletely in a few days. So much forkill-or-cure remedies!

It seems that as soon as they neared the

first creek, with very high banks, abouta mile from the house, the water cameup to the horses' fetlocks, then to theirknees, but still it was impossible to tellexactly where the creek began, or rather,where its bank ended; they went verycautiously, steering as well as they couldfor where they imagined the cutting inthe steep bank to be; but I supposethey did not hit it off exactly, forsuddenly they went plump into deepwater and found themselves whirlingalong like straws down a tremendouscurrent. Jack was, however, quite equalto the occasion; he never allowshimself to be flurried or put out byanything, and has, I imagine, been innearly every difficulty incident to New

Zealand travelling. Instead, therefore,of losing his head as Helen did (Mr. Uwas riding her), and striking out wildlywith her forelegs to the great danger ofthe other horse, Jack took it all as amatter of course, and set himself toswim steadily down the stream,avoiding the eddies as much aspossible: he knew every yard of thebank, and did not therefore waste hisstrength by trying to land in impossibleplaces, but kept a watchful eye for theeasiest spot. F knew the old horse sowell that he let him have his head andguide himself, only trying to avoidHelen's forelegs, which were oftenunpleasantly near; his only fear was lestthey should have to go so far before a

landing was possible that poor oldJack's strength might not hold out, forthere is nothing so fatiguing to a horseas swimming in a strong current with arider on his back, especially a heavyman. They were swept down for a longdistance, though it was impossible toguess exactly how far they had gone,and F was getting very uneasy about acertain wire fence which had beencarried across the creek; they wererapidly approaching it, and the dangerwas that the horses might suddenly findthemselves entangled in it, in whichcase the riders would very likely havebeen drowned. F called to Mr. U to gethis feet free from the stirrups andloosened his own; but he told me he

was afraid lest Mr. U should not hearhim above the roaring of the water, andso perhaps be dragged under waterwhen the fence was reached. However,Jack, knew all about it, and was notgoing to be drowned ignominiously ina creek which would not have wet hishoofs to cross three days before. A fewyards from the fence he made one rushand a bound towards what seemed onlya clump of Tohi bushes, but they brokethe force of the current and gave himthe chance he wanted, and he struggledup the high crumbling bank more like acat than a steady old screw. Helenwould not be left behind, and, with agood spur from Mr. U , she followedJack's example, and they stood dripping

and shivering in shallow water. Boththe horses were so done that F and Mr.U had to jump off instantly and loosethe girths, turning them with theirnostrils to the wind. It was a verynarrow escape, and the disagreeablepart of it was that they had scrambledout on the wrong side of the creek andhad to recross it to get home: however,they rode on to the next stream, whichlooked so much more swollen andangry, that they gave up the idea ofgoing on to Christchurch that night,especially as they were wet through totheir chins, for both horses swam verylow in the water, with only their headsto be seen above it.

The next thing to be considered washow to get back to the house. It neverwould do to risk taking the horses intodanger again when they were soexhausted; so they rode round by thehomestead, crossed the creek higher up,where it was much wider butcomparatively shallow (if anythingcould be called shallow just now), andcame home over the hills. Good oldJack had an extra feed of oats thatevening, a reward to which he is by nomeans insensible; and indeed itprobably is the only one he cares for.

The Fates had determined, apparently,that I also should come in for my shareof watery adventures, for we had an

engagement of rather long standing toride across the hills, and visit a friend'sstation about twelve miles distant, andthe day we had promised to go wasrather more than a week after F 'sattempted journey. In the meantime, thewaters had of course gone downconsiderably, and there was quite anexcitement in riding and walking aboutour own run, and seeing the changesthe flood had made, and the mischief ithad done to the fencing; this was inprocess of being repaired. We lost veryfew sheep; they were all up at the topsof the high hills, their favouritesummer pasture.

I think I have told you that between us

and Christchurch there is but one river,a most peaceable and orderly stream, aperfect pattern to the eccentric NewZealand rivers, which are so changeableand restless. Upon this occasion,however, the Selwyn behaved quite asbadly as any of its fellows; it was notonly flooded for miles, carrying awayquantities of fencing near its banks,and drowning confiding sheepsuddenly, but at one spot about fourmiles from us, just under the WhiteRocks, it came down suddenly, likewhat Miss Ingelow calls "a mightyeygre," and deserted its old timewornbed for two new ones: and the worst ofthe story is that it has taken a fancy toour road, swept away a good deal of it,

breaking a course for itself in quite adifferent place; so now, instead of onenice, wide, generally shallow river tocross, about which there never has beenan evil report, we have two horridmountain torrents of which we knownothing: no one has been in yet to trytheir depth, or to find out the bestplace at which to ford them, and itunfortunately happened that F and Iwere the pioneers. When we came tothe first new channel, F with much carepicked out what seemed the best place,and though it was a most disagreeablebit of water to go through, still wemanaged it all right; but when we cameto the next curve, it was far worse. Herethe river took a sharp turn, and came

tearing round a corner, the colour andconsistency of pea-soup, and makingsuch a noise we could hardly hearourselves speak standing close togetheron the bank; once in the stream, ofcourse it would be hopeless to try tocatch a word. I am ashamed to say thatmy fixed idea was to turn back, and thisI proposed without hesitation; but Fhas the greatest dislike to retracing hissteps, and is disagreeably like Excelsiorin this respect; so he merely lookedastonished at my want of spirit, andproceeded very calmly to give me mydirections, and the more he impressedthe necessity of coolness and cautionupon me, the more I quaked. He was togo over first, alone; I was to follow,

having first tucked my habit well upunder my arm, and taken care that Iwas quite free so as not to be entangledin any way if Helen should be sweptaway, or if a boulder should comedown with the stream, and knock herfeet from under her: I was not to be atall frightened (!), and I was to keep myeyes fixed on him, and guide Helen'shead exactly by the motion of his hand.He plunged into the water as soon ashe had issued these encouragingdirections; I saw him floundering inand out of several deep holes, andpresently he got safe to land, drippingwet; then he dismounted, tied Leo to aflax bush, and took off his coat andbig riding-boots, I thought, very

naturally to dry them, but I should havebeen still more alarmed, if possible,had I known that this was to prepare tobe ready to swim to my help in case ofdanger. As it was, my only hope wasthat Helen might not like the look ofthe angry flood, and would refuse togo in; how I should have blessed herfor such obstinacy! but no, she waseager to rejoin her stable companion,and plunged in without hesitation. Ifound it much worse even than Idreaded; the water felt so resistless, as ifit must sweep me right out of thesaddle; I should like to have clutchedHelen's mane or anything to have keptme on, but both hands were wanted tohold the reins quite low down, one on

each side of her withers, so as to guideher exactly according to F 's pilot-handon the opposite bank: steeringimplicitly by this I escaped the holesand rocks which he had come against,and got over safely, but trembling, andwith chattering teeth. F said, quitedisdainfully, "You don't mean to sayyou're really frightened " So then Iscolded him, rather incoherently, anddemanded to be praised for coming atall! I wrung my habit out as well as Icould, F poured the water out of hisboots, and we proceeded, first over aplain, and then to climb a high steephill. I wonder if you have any idea howdisagreeable and dangerous it is to gozigzag up the side of a mountain after

such rain as we have had. The soil wasjust like soap, nothing for the horses'hoofs to take hold of, not a pebble or atuft of grass; all had been washed away,and only the slippery clay remained. Asusual, F went first and I followed,taking care not to keep below him, lesthe and Leo should come "slithering"(that is the only word for it) downupon me; but, alas, it was Helen and Iwho slithered! Poor dear, all her legsseemed to fly from under her at once,and she came down on her side and onmy legs. I felt the leaping-crutch snap,and found my left shoulder against theground; I let go the reins, and thoughtwe had better part company, but foundI could not move for her weight; she

struggled to get up, and we bothslipped down, down down: there wasno reason why we should not havegone on to the bottom of the hill,when a friendly tussock afforded her aninstant's resting-place for her hindhoofs, and she scrambled to her feetlike a cat. I found myself still on herback; so I picked up my reins and triedto pretend that I had never thought ofgetting off. F dared not stir from his"bad eminence;" so Helen and Iwended our slippery way up to him,and in answer to his horrified "Whereis your habit " I found I was torn toribbons; in fact, my skirt was little morethan a kilt, and a very short one too!What was to be done We were only

three or four miles from ourdestination, so we pushed on, and atthe last I lingered behind, and made Fgo first and borrow a cloak or shawl.You would have laughed if you hadheard my pathetic adjurations to him tobe sure to bring it by himself. I was soafraid that some one else would politelyinsist on accompanying him. But it wasall right, though even with thisassistance it was very difficult toarrange matters so as to be tolerablyrespectable. My hostess was shocked atmy tattered, wet plight, and dried me,and dressed me up till I was quitesmart, and then we had a very pleasantday, and, best of all, came home by adifferent road, so as to avoid the

slippery descent and the rivers in thedark; but I still mourn for my habit!-itwas my last. Three have disappeared,owing to unfortunate accidents, thisyear, and now I am reduced to what canbe contrived out of a linsey dress.

Letter XXIV: My only fall fromhorseback.

Broomielaw, June 1868. The autumnhas passed away so quickly that I canhardly believe the winter has reached usso soon the last winter we shall spendin New Zealand. I should like to havebeen able to boast, on my return to

England, that in three years' constantriding, on all sorts of horses, good,bad, and indifferent, and overabominable roads, I had escaped a fall;but not only have I had a very severeone, but it was from my own favouriteHelen, which is very trying to reflectupon. However, it was not in the leasther fault, or mine either; so she and Iare still perfectly good friends.

We had been spending two days up atLake Coleridge, as a sort of farewellvisit, and on our way down again toRockwood, a distance of about twentymiles, we stopped to lunch, byinvitation, at a station midway. Therewas so much to be seen at this place

that we loitered much longer than wasprudent in the short days, and by thetime we had thoroughly inspected abeautiful new wool-shed with all thelatest improvements (from which Fcould hardly tear himself away), thefish-ponds elaborately arranged for thereception of the young trout expectedfrom Tasmania and the charminggarden well sheltered by a grove oflarge wattle-trees, it was growing dusk,and we prepared to push on as fast aspossible; for nothing is moredisagreeable than being caught in thedark on a New Zealand track, with itscreeks and swamps and wire fences: thelast are the most dangerous obstacles, ifyou get off the track, or if the gate

through the fence has been placed forconvenience a few yards on one side ofit; the horses cannot see the slenderwires in the dark, and so fall over them,injuring themselves and their ridersmost seriously sometimes. Having stillabout eight miles to go, we weregalloping gaily over a wide open plain,our only anxiety arising from the fastfailing daylight; but the horses were stillquite fresh, and, as the French idiomwould have it, devoured the ground ata fine pace; when, in an instant, theground appeared to rise up to meet me,and I found myself dragged along onthe extreme point of my right shoulder,still grasping both reins and whip. I wasalmost under the feet of the other

horse, and I saw Helen's heelsdescribing frantic circles in the air. Fshouted to me to let go, which it hadnever occurred to me to do previously.I did so, and jumped up instantly,feeling quite unhurt, and rather relievedto find that a fall was not so dreadfulafter all. I then saw the cause of theaccident: the handle of a littletravelling-bag which had been hungover the pommel of my saddle hadslipped over the slight projection, andas it was still further secured by a strapthrough the girth, it was dangling underpoor Helen, whose frantic bounds andleaps only increased the liveliness ofher tormentor. I never saw such bucksand jumps high into the air as she

performed receiving a severe blow fromthe bag at each; it was impossible tohelp laughing, though I did not seehow it was all to end. She would notallow F to approach her, and wasperfectly mad with terror. At last thegirths gave way, and the saddle cameoff, with the bag still fastened to it; themoment she found herself free, shetrotted up to me in the most engagingmanner, and stood rubbing her noseagainst my arm, though she was stilltrembling all over, and covered withfoam.

By this time I had made the discoverythat I could not raise my right arm; butstill a careful investigation did not tell

me it was broken, for it gave me nopain to touch anywhere, except a verylittle just on the point of the shoulder.F now went to pick up the saddle andthe reins; it was difficult to find theselatter in the fast gathering darkness andI held his horse for him. To my horrorI found after standing for a moment ortwo, that I was going to faint; I couldnot utter a word; I knew that if my fast-relaxing fingers let go their hold of thebridle the horse would set off towardshome at a gallop, Helen wouldassuredly follow him, and we should beleft eight miles from the nearest shelterto find our way to it, with a deep creekto cross. F was fifty yards off, with hisback to me, searching for some

indispensable buckle; so there was nohelp to be got from him at the moment.I exerted every atom of my remainingstrength to slip the bridle over my leftarm, which I pressed against my waist;then I sat down as quietly as I could,not to alarm the horse, bent forward soas to keep my left arm under me lest thebridle should slip off, and fainted awayin great peace and comfort. The coldwas becoming so intense that it soonrevived me, and F , suspectingsomething was wrong, came to relieveme of the care of the horse, andcontrived to get the girths repaired withthe ever-ready flax, and the bag securedin a very short time. But when it cameto mounting again, that was not so

easy: every time I tried to spring,something jarred horribly in the socketwhere the arm fits into the shoulder,and the pain was so great that I had tolie down on the ground. It was nownearly seven o'clock, quite dark, andfreezing hard; we were most anxious toget on, and yet what was to be done Icould not mount, apparently, and therewas no stone or bank to stand on andget up by for an immense way. At last Fput me up by sheer strength. I foundmyself so deadly sick and faint when Iwas fairly in the saddle that it was sometime before I could allow Helen tomove; and never shall I forget thetorture of her first step, for myshoulder was now stiffening in a most

unpleasant way. F said it would beeasier to canter; so we set off at fullspeed, and the cold air against my facekept me from fainting as we wentalong, though I fully expected to falloff every moment; if Helen had shied,or stumbled, or even capered a little, Ishould have been on the ground again.In my torture and despair, I proposedto be left behind, and for F to ride onand get help; but he would not hear ofthis, declaring that I should die of coldbefore he could get back with a cart,and that it was very doubtful if heshould find me again on the vast plain,with nothing to guide him, and in themidnight darkness. Whenever we cameto a little creek which we were obliged

to jump, Helen's safe arrival on theopposite bank was announced by aloud yell from me, caused by agonyhardly to be described. The coldappeared to get into the broken joint,and make it so much worse.

At last we reached Rockwood, andnever was its friendly shelter morewelcome. Everything that could bethought of was done to alleviate mysufferings; but I resembled Punch withhis head on one side, for I had a well-defined and gigantic hump on my back,and my shoulder was swollen up to myear. The habit-body was unpicked, as itwas impossible to get it off any otherway. Of course, the night was one of

great agony; but I thought often, as Ipaced the room, how much better itwas to have a blazing fire to cheer meup, and some delicious tea to put mylips to "when so dispoged" (like theimmortal Mrs. Gamp), than to be lyingon the open plain in a hard frost,wondering when F and his cart wouldarrive.

The next day we returned home, muchagainst our host's wish; and I walked allthe way, some six miles of mountainroad, for I could not bear the idea ofriding. F led the horses, and we arrivedquite safely. His first idea was to takeme down to a doctor, but the motionof driving was greater agony than

riding, as the road was rough; so afterthe first mile, I entreated to be takenback, and we turned the horses' headstowards home again; and when wereached it, I got out all my little bookson surgery, medicine, etc., and fromthem made out how to set my shoulderin some sort of fashion, with F 's help.Of course it is still useless to me, but Ithink it is mending itself; and after aweek I could do everything with my lefthand, even to writing, after a fashion.The only thing I could not do was toarrange my hair, or even to brush it;and though F was "willing," he was soexceedingly awkward, that at last, aftergoing through great anguish andhaving it pulled out by handfuls, I got

him to cut it off, and it is now croppedlike a small boy's. He cuts up my dinner,etc. for me; but it is a very tryingprocess, and I don't wonder at childrenoften leaving the nasty cold mess halfeaten. I shall be very glad to be able touse my own knife again.

Letter XXV: How We lost our horsesand had to walk home.

Broomielaw, November 1868. This willactually be my last letter from theMalvern Hills; and, in spite of the joy Ifeel at the hope of seeing all mybeloved ones in England, I am so sorry

to leave my dear little happy valley. Wehave done nothing but pay farewellvisits lately; and I turn for a final lookat each station or cottage as we rideaway with a great tightness at my heart,and moisture in my eyes, to think I shallnever see them again. You must not bejealous at the lingering regrets I feel, forunless you had been with me here youcan never understand how kind andfriendly all our neighbours, high andlow, have been to us from the very first,or how dearly I have grown to lovethem. I don't at all know how I am tosay good-bye to my dear Mrs. M , theshepherd's wife I told you of. I believeshe will miss me more than any one;and I cannot bear to think of her left to

pass her days without the help ofbooks and papers, which I was alwaysso glad to lend her. I often walk downthe valley to take tea with her of anafternoon and to say good-bye, but Ihave not said it yet. I wish you couldsee her parlour as I saw it yesterdayafternoon her books in a bookcase ofher husband's manufacture, very niceand pretty; her spinning-wheel in thecomer; the large "beau-pot" of flowersin the window; and such a tea on thetable! cream like clots of gold, scones,oat-cakes, all sorts of delicacies! Sheherself is quite charming one ofNature's ladies. I have given her, as aparting gift, a couple of Scotch viewsframed; and they hang on the wall as a

memento of places equally dear to bothof us.

It is a sorrow to me to leave the horsesand dogs and my pet calves andpoultry; even the trees and creepers I goround to look at, with the melancholyfeeling of other owners not lovingthem so much as I have done.However, I must not make my last lettertoo dismal, or you will feel that I amnot glad enough to return to you all.My only apology is, I have been so veryhappy here.

Now for our latest adventure, as absurdas any, in its way. Have I ever told youthat our post-office is ten miles off,

with an atrocious road between us andit I know you will throw down thisletter and feel rather disgusted with mefor being sorry to leave such a place,but we don't mind trifles here. Lately,since our own establishment has beenbroken up, we have been living in greatdiscomfort; and among other things wegenerally, if not always, have to go forour own letters twice a week. Upon thisoccasion F and I had ridden togetherup the gorge of the Selwyn rather latein the afternoon, to avoid the extremeheat of the day. When we reached theshepherd's hut I have beforementioned, and which is now deserted,I proposed to F to go on over the hillsalone and leave me there, as I was very

hot and tired, and he could travel muchquicker without me for I am ashamedto say that I still object to riding fast upand down slippery hills. I cannot get ridof the idea that I shall break my neck ifI attempt it, whereas F goes on over theworst road just as if it was perfectlylevel. Excuse this digression, for it is arelief to me to be a little spiteful abouthis pace whenever I have anopportunity, and it will probably be mylast chance of expressing my entiredisapproval of it.

Helen was tied up to a post, and F ,after helping me to dismount, set off ata canter over the adjoining swamp onhis way to cross the chain of hills

between the river and the flat where thegreat coach-road to the West Coastruns. I had brought the ingredients formy five o'clock tea (without which I amalways a lost and miserable creature),and I amused myself, during mysolitude, by picking up dry bits ofscrub for my fire; but I had to go downthe river-bank for some driftwood tomake the old kettle, belonging to thehut, boil. I could not help wonderinghow any human being could enduresuch solitude for years, as the occupantof a hut like this is necessarilycondemned to. In itself it was as snugand comfortable as possible, with alittle paddock for the shepherd's horse,an acre or so of garden, now

overgrown with self-sown potatoes,peas, strawberry, raspberry, andgooseberry plants, the little thatchedfowl-house near, and the dog-kennels;all giving it a thoroughly home-likelook. The hoarse roar of the river overits rocky bed was the only sound; nowand then a flock of wild ducks wouldcome flying down to their roosting-place or nests among the Tohi grass;and as the evening closed in themelancholy cry of the bittern and theweka's loud call broke the stillness, butonly to make it appear more profound.On each side of the ravine in which thehut stands rise lofty hills so steeplyfrom the water's edge that in places wecan find no footing for our horses, and

have to ride in the river. At this time ofthe year the sheep are all upon the hills;so you do not hear even a bleat: but inwinter, they come down to the sunny,sheltered flats.

It appeared to me as if I was alonethere for hours, though it really was lessthan one hour, when F returned with alarge bundle of letters and papers tiedto his saddle-bow. Tea was quite readynow; so he tied up his horse nextHelen, and we had tea and looked atour letters. One of the first I openedtold me that some friends fromChristchurch, whom I expected to payus a visit soon, were on their way upthat very day, and in fact might be

expected to arrive just about that hour.I was filled with blank dismay, for notonly did the party consist of threegrown-up people nay, four but threelittle children. I had made elaborateplans in my head as to how and wherethey should all be stowed away for afortnight, but had naturally deferred tillthe last moment to carry out myarrangements, for they entailed givingup our own bedroom, and "camping"in the dining-room, besides wonderfulsubstitutes of big packing-cases forcribs, etc. etc. But, alas! here we wereeight miles from home and nothingdone, not even any extra food orderedor prepared. The obvious thing was tomount our horses and return as fast as

ever we could, and we hastened out ofthe hut to the spot where we had leftthem both securely tied to the onlyavailable post, through whichunfortunately five wires ran, as it wasone of the "standards" of a fencewhich extended for miles. Just as wecame out of the hut in a great bustle,our evil destiny induced F 's horse torub its nose against the top wire of thefence; and in this process it caught thebar of its snaffle-bit, and immediatelypulled back: this made all the wiresjingle. Helen instantly took alarm, andpulled back too: fresh and increasedvibration, extending up the hill-sideand echoing back an appalling sound,was the result of this movement. In an

instant there were both the horsespulling with all their force against thefence, terrified to death; and nowonder, for the more they pulled themore the wires jingled. F did all hecould to soothe them withblandishments. I tried to coax Helen,but the nearer we drew the morefrantically they backed and plunged,and the more the noise increased till itwas a case of "one struggle more and Iam free;" and leaving their bridles stillfastened to the fatal fence by the reins,we had the satisfaction of seeing bothour horses careering wildly about firstcelebrating their escape from danger byjoyous and frantic bounds and kicks,and then setting off down the gorge of

the river as hard as they could go. Ifairly sat down and whimpered a little,not only at the thought of our eightmiles' walk over shingle with a deepriver to be crossed nine times, but at theidea of my poor little guests arriving tofind no supper, no beds, "no nothing."

F tried to cheer me up, and said theonly thing was to get home as quick aspossible; but he did not expect to findthat our friends had arrived, for it hadbeen very hazy over the plains all day,and probably had rained hard inChristchurch; so he thought they wouldnot have started on their journey at all.But I refused to accept any comfortfrom this idea, and bemoaned myself,

entirely on their account, incessantly.When we came to the first crossing, Fpicked me up and carried me over dry-shod, and this he did at all the fords;but in one we very nearly came to grief,for I was tilted like a sack over hisshoulder, and when we were quite inthe middle, and the water was verydeep, up to his waist, he kept hoistingmy feet higher and higher, quiteforgetting that there was plenty moreof me on the other side of hisshoulder; so it ended in my armsgetting very wet, which he did not seemto think mattered at all so long as myfeet were dry; whereas I rather preferredhaving my feet than my head plungedinto a surging, deafening yellow

current. At the entrance of the gorge isa large stockyard, and near to it, at leasta mile or two off, a large mob of horsesis generally to be found feeding. Weheard great neighing and gallopingabout amongst them as we came out ofthe gorge; it was much too dark todistinguish anything, but we guessedthat our horses had joined these, andthe sounds we heard were probablythose of welcome. But the whole mobset off the moment we came near, andcrossed the river again, entailing a tenthwetting upon poor F . I was posted atthe entrance of the gorge, withinstructions to shout and otherwisekeep them from going up by the routewe had just come; but it was more than

an hour before F could get round thewary brutes, so as to turn them withtheir heads towards the stockyard. Ofcourse, he had to bring up the wholemob. My talents in the shouting linewere not called out upon this occasion,for they all trotted into the stockyard oftheir own accord, and I had nothing todo but put up the slip-rail as fast as Icould with only one available arm, forthough it is better, I cannot use theother yet. When F came up we bothwent into the yard, and could soonmake out the two horses which hadtheir saddles on that was the only waywe could distinguish them in the dark.It was now nearly eleven o'clock, andthough warm enough it was very

cloudy, not a star to be seen. Wefastened on the patched up bridles aswell as we could by feeling, andmounted, and rode home, about threemiles more, as fast as we could. Whenwe entered the flat near our own house,we heard loud and prolonged "coo-ees" from all sides. The servants hadmade up their minds that some terriblemisfortune had happened to us, andwere setting out to look for us, "coo-eeing" as they came along. F pointedout to me, with a sort of "I-told-you-so" air, that there was no light in thedrawing-room so it was evident ourfriends had not arrived; and when wedismounted I found, to my great joy,that the house was empty. All our

fatigue was forgotten in thankfulnessthat the poor travellers had not beenexposed to such a cold, comfortlessreception as would have awaited themif they had made their journey that day.I must tell you, they arrived quite safelythe next evening, but very tired,especially the poor children; however,everything was ready, and the little boyswere particularly pleased with their boxbeds, greatly preferring the difficultiesof getting in and out of them to theirown pretty little cribs at home. Such areboys all over the world!

Next month we leave this for ever, andgo down to Christchurch to make ourfinal arrangements for the long voyage

of a hundred days before us. As thetime draws near I realize how strong isthe tie which has grown, even in thesefew short years, around my heart,connecting it with this lovely land, andthe kind friends I have found in it. Ffeels the parting more deeply than I do,if possible, though for differentreasons; he has lived so long amongthese beautiful hills, and is soaccustomed to have before his eyestheir grand outlines. He was telling methis the other day, and has put the samefeelings into the following verses,which I now send you.

A farewell. The seamen shout once andtogether, The anchor breaks up from

the ground, And the ship's head swingsto the weather, To the wind and the seaswings round; With a clamour the greatsail steadies, In extreme of a stormscarce furled; Already a short wakeeddies, And a furrow is cleft and curledTo the right and left.

Float out from the harbour andhighland That hides all the region Iknow, Let me look a last time on theisland Well seen from the sea to thesnow. The lines of the ranges I follow, Itravel the hills with my eyes, For I knowwhere they make a deep hollow, Avalley of grass and the rise Of streamsclearer than glass.

That haunt is too far for me wingless,And the hills of it sink out of sight,Yet my thought were but broken andstringless, And the daylight of songwere but night. If I could not at will awinged dream let Lift me and take meand set Me again by the trees and thestreamlet; These leagues make a widewater, yet The whole world shall nothide.

Now my days leave the soft silentbyway, And clothed in a various sort, Iniron or gold, on life's highway New feetshall succeed, or stop short Shod hardthese maybe, or made splendid, Fairand many, or evil and few, But thegoing of bare feet has ended, Of naked

feet set in the new Meadow grass sweetand wet.

I will long for the ways of soft walking,Grown tired of the dust and the glare,And mute in the midst of much talkingWill pine for the silences rare; Streetsof peril and speech full of malice Willrecall me the pastures and peace Whichgardened and guarded those valleysWith grasses as high as the knees, Calmas high as the sky:

While the island secure in my spirit Atease on its own ocean rides, AndMemory, a ship sailing near it, Shallfloat in with favouring tides, Shall enterthe harbours and land me To visit the

gorges and heights Whose aspectsseemed once to command me, Asqueens by their charms commandknights To achievements of arms.

And as knights have caught sight ofqueens' faces Through the dust of thelists and the din, So, remembering theseholiest places In the days when I loseor I win, I will yearn to them, all beingover, Triumphant or trampled beneath,To this beautiful isle like a lover, To herevergreen brakes for a wreath, For a tearto her lakes.

The last of her now is a brightening Farfire in the forested hills, The breeze asthe night nears is heightening, The

cordage draws tighter and thrills, Like ahorse that is spurred by the rider Thegreat vessel quivers and quails, Andpasses the billows beside her, The fairwind is strong in her sails, She is liftedalong.

THE END.