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Station Life in New Zealand

by Lady Barker · English · Gutenberg #6104 · 358,317 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Station Life in New Zealand

Author: Lady Barker


        
Release date: July 1, 2004 [eBook #6104]
                Most recently updated: June 4, 2009

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/6104

Credits: Produced by P. J. Riddick, and David Widger


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STATION LIFE IN NEW ZEALAND ***




Produced by P. J. Riddick







STATION LIFE IN NEW ZEALAND


By Lady Barker.


1883




Preface.

These letters, their writer is aware, justly incur the reproach of
egotism and triviality; at the same time she did not see how this was
to be avoided, without lessening their value as the exact account of
a lady's experience of the brighter and less practical side of
colonization. They are published as no guide or handbook for "the
intending emigrant;" that person has already a literature to himself,
and will scarcely find here so much as a single statistic. They simply
record the expeditions, adventures, and emergencies diversifying the
daily life of the wife of a New Zealand sheep-farmer; and, as each was
written while the novelty and excitement of the scenes it describes were
fresh upon her, they may succeed in giving here in England an adequate
impression of the delight and freedom of an existence so far removed
from our own highly-wrought civilization: not failing in this, the
writer will gladly bear the burden of any critical rebuke the letters
deserve. One thing she hopes will plainly appear,--that, however hard
it was to part, by the width of the whole earth, from dear friends and
spots scarcely less dear, yet she soon found in that new country new
friends and a new home; costing her in their turn almost as many parting
regrets as the old.

F. N. B.




Letter I: Two months at sea--Melbourne.


Port Phillip Hotel, Melbourne. September 22d, 1865. .... Now I must
give you an account of our voyage: it has been a very quick one for
the immense distance traversed, sometimes under canvas, but generally
steaming. We saw no land between the Lizard and Cape Otway light--that
is, for fifty-seven days: and oh, the monotony of that time!--the
monotony of it! Our decks were so crowded that we divided our walking
hours, in order that each set of passengers might have space to move
about; for if every one had taken it into their heads to exercise
themselves at the same time, we could hardly have exceeded the
fisherman's definition of a walk, "two steps and overboard." I am
ashamed to say I was more or less ill all the way, but, fortunately,
F---- was not, and I rejoiced at this from the most selfish motives, as
he was able to take care of me. I find that sea-sickness develops the
worst part of one's character with startling rapidity, and, as far as
I am concerned, I look back with self-abasement upon my callous
indifference to the sufferings of others, and apathetic absorption in my
individual misery.

Until we had fairly embarked, the well-meaning but ignorant among our
friends constantly assured us, with an air of conviction as to the truth
and wisdom of their words, that we were going at the very best season
of the year; but as soon as we could gather the opinions of those in
authority on board, it gradually leaked out that we really had fallen
upon quite a wrong time for such a voyage, for we very soon found
ourselves in the tropics during their hottest month (early in August),
and after having been nearly roasted for three weeks, we plunged
abruptly into mid-winter, or at all events very early spring, off the
Cape of Good Hope, and went through a season of bitterly cold weather,
with three heavy gales. I pitied the poor sailors from the bottom of my
heart, at their work all night on decks slippery with ice, and pulling
at ropes so frozen that it was almost impossible to bend them; but,
thank God, there were no casualties among the men. The last gale was the
most severe; they said it was the tail of a cyclone. One is apt on land
to regard such phrases as the "shriek of the storm," or "the roar of
the waves," as poetical hyperboles; whereas they are very literal and
expressive renderings of the sounds of horror incessant throughout
a gale at sea. Our cabin, though very nice and comfortable in other
respects, possessed an extraordinary attraction for any stray wave which
might be wandering about the saloon: once or twice I have been in the
cuddy when a sea found its way down the companion, and I have watched
with horrible anxiety a ton or so of water hesitating which cabin it
should enter and deluge, and it always seemed to choose ours. All these
miseries appear now, after even a few days of the blessed land, to
belong to a distant past; but I feel inclined to lay my pen down and
have a hearty laugh at the recollection of one cold night, when a heavy
"thud" burst open our cabin door, and washed out all the stray parcels,
boots, etc., from the corners in which the rolling of the ship had
previously bestowed them. I was high and dry in the top berth, but poor
F---- in the lower recess was awakened by the douche, and no words of
mine can convey to you the utter absurdity of his appearance, as he
nimbly mounted on the top of a chest of drawers close by, and crouched
there, wet and shivering, handing me up a most miscellaneous assortment
of goods to take care of in my little dry nest.

Some of our fellow-passengers were very good-natured, and devoted
themselves to cheering and enlivening us by getting up concerts, little
burlesques and other amusements; and very grateful we were for their
efforts: they say that "anything is fun in the country," but on board
ship a little wit goes a very long way indeed, for all are only too
ready and anxious to be amused. The whole dramatic strength of the
company was called into force for the performance of "The Rivals,"
which was given a week or so before the end of the voyage. It went off
wonderfully well; but I confess I enjoyed the preparations more than the
play itself: the ingenuity displayed was very amusing at the time. You
on shore cannot imagine how difficult it was to find a snuff-box for
"Sir Anthony Absolute," or with what joy and admiration we welcomed a
clever substitute for it in the shape of a match-box covered with the
lead out of a tea-chest most ingeniously modelled into an embossed
wreath round the lid, with a bunch of leaves and buds in the centre, the
whole being brightly burnished: at the performance the effect of this
little "property" was really excellent. Then, at the last moment, poor
"Bob Acres" had to give in, and acknowledge that he could not speak for
coughing; he had been suffering from bronchitis for some days past, but
had gallantly striven to make himself heard at rehearsals; so on the day
of the play F---- had the part forced on him. There was no time to learn
his "words," so he wrote out all of them in large letters on slips of
paper and fastened them on the beams. This device was invisible to the
audience, but he was obliged to go through his scenes with his head as
high up as if he had on a martingale; however, we were all so indulgent
that at any little _contretemps_, such as one of the actresses
forgetting her part or being seized by stage-fright, the applause was
much greater than when things went smoothly.

I can hardly believe that it is only two days since we steamed into
Hobson's Bay, on a lovely bright spring morning. At dinner, the evening
before, our dear old captain had said that we should see the revolving
light on the nearest headland about eight o'clock that evening, and so
we did. You will not think me childish, if I acknowledge that my eyes
were so full of tears I could hardly see it after the first glimpse;
it is impossible to express in a letter all the joy and thankfulness of
such a moment. Feelings like these are forgotten only too quickly in
the jar and bustle of daily life, and we are always ready to take as a
matter of course those mercies which are new every morning; but when
I realized that all the tosses and tumbles of so many weary days and
nights were over, and that at last we had reached the haven where we
would be, my first thought was one of deep gratitude. It was easy to
see that it was a good moment with everyone; squabbles were made up with
surprising quickness; shy people grew suddenly sociable; some who had
comfortable homes to go to on landing gave kind and welcome invitations
to others, who felt themselves sadly strange in a new country; and it
was with really a lingering feeling of regret that we all separated at
last, though a very short time before we should have thought it quite
impossible to be anything but delighted to leave the ship.

We have not seen much of Melbourne yet, as there has been a great deal
to do in looking after the luggage, and at first one is capable
of nothing but a delightful idleness. The keenest enjoyment is a
fresh-water bath, and next to that is the new and agreeable luxury of
the ample space for dressing; and then it is so pleasant to suffer no
anxiety as to the brushes and combs tumbling about. I should think that
even the vainest woman in the world would find her toilet and its duties
a daily trouble and a sorrow at sea, on account of the unsteadiness
of all things. The next delight is standing at the window, and seeing
horses, and trees, and dogs--in fact, all the "treasures of the land;"
as for flowers--beautiful as they are at all times--you cannot learn
to appreciate them enough until you have been deprived of them for two
months.

You know that I have travelled a good deal in various parts of the
world, but I have never seen anything at all like Melbourne. In other
countries, it is generally the antiquity of the cities, and their
historical reminiscences, which appeal to the imagination; but _here_,
the interest is as great from exactly the opposite cause. It is most
wonderful to walk through a splendid town, with magnificent public
buildings, churches, shops, clubs, theatres, with the streets well
paved and lighted, and to think that less than forty years ago it was a
desolate swamp without even a hut upon it. How little an English country
town progresses in forty years, and here is a splendid city created in
that time! I have no hesitation in saying, that any fashionable novelty
which comes out in either London or Paris finds its way to Melbourne by
the next steamer; for instance, I broke my parasol on board ship, and
the first thing I did on landing was to go to one of the best shops in
Collins Street to replace it. On learning what I wanted, the shopman
showed me some of those new parasols which had just come out in London
before I sailed, and which I had vainly tried to procure in S----, only
four hours from London.

The only public place we have yet visited is the Acclimatization Garden;
which is very beautifully laid out, and full of aviaries, though it
looks strange to see common English birds treated as distinguished
visitors and sumptuously lodged and cared for. Naturally, the Australian
ones interest me most, and they are certainly prettier than yours at
home, though they do not sing. I have been already to a shop where they
sell skins of birds, and have half ruined myself in purchases for hats.
You are to have a "diamond sparrow," a dear little fellow with reddish
brown plumage, and white spots over its body (in this respect a
miniature copy of the Argus pheasant I brought from India), and a
triangular patch of bright yellow under its throat. I saw some of them
alive in a cage in the market with many other kinds of small birds, and
several pairs of those pretty grass or zebra paroquets, which are called
here by the very inharmonious name of "budgerighars." I admired the
blue wren so much--a tiny _birdeen_ with tail and body of dust-coloured
feathers, and head and throat of a most lovely turquoise blue; it has
also a little wattle of these blue feathers standing straight out on
each side of its head, which gives it a very pert appearance. Then there
is the emu-wren, all sad-coloured, but quaint, with the tail-feathers
sticking up on end, and exactly like those of an emu; on the very
smallest scale, even to the peculiarity of two feathers growing out of
the same little quill. I was much amused by the varieties of cockatoos,
parrots, and lories of every kind and colour, shrieking and jabbering in
the part of the market devoted to them; but I am told that I have seen
very few of the varieties of birds, as it is early in the spring, and
the young ones have not yet been brought in: they appear to sell as
fast as they can be procured. But before I end my letter I must tell you
about the cockatoo belonging to this hotel. It is a famous bird in its
way, having had its portrait taken several times, descriptions written
for newspapers of its talents, and its owner boasts of enormous sums
offered and refused for it. Knowing my fondness for pets, F---- took me
downstairs to see it very soon after our arrival. I thought it hideous:
it belongs to a kind not very well known in England, of a dirtyish white
colour, a very ugly-shaped head and bill, and large bluish rings round
the eyes; the beak is huge and curved. If it knew of this last objection
on my part, it would probably answer, like the wolf in Red Riding Hood's
story, "the better to talk with, my dear"--for it is a weird and knowing
bird. At first it flatly refused to show off any of its accomplishments,
but one of the hotel servants good-naturedly came forward, and Cocky
condescended to go through his performances. I cannot possibly-tell you
of all its antics: it pretended to have a violent toothache, and nursed
its beak in its claw, rocking itself backwards and forwards as if in the
greatest agony, and in answer to all the remedies which were proposed,
croaking out, "Oh, it ain't a bit of good," and finally sidling up, to
the edge of its perch, and saying in hoarse but confidential whisper,
"Give us a drop of whisky, _do_." Its voice was extraordinarily
distinct, and when it sang several snatches of songs the words were
capitally given, with the most absurdly comic intonation, all
the _roulades_ being executed in perfect tune. I liked its sewing
performance so much--to see it hold a little piece of stuff underneath
the claw which rested on the perch, and pretend to sew with the other,
getting into difficulties with its thread, and finally setting up a loud
song in praise of sewing-machines just as if it were an advertisement.

By the next time I write I shall have seen more of Melbourne; there
will, however, be no time for another letter by this mail; but I will
leave one to be posted after we sail for New Zealand.




Letter II: Sight-seeing in Melbourne.


Melbourne, October 1st, 1865. I have left my letter to the last moment
before starting for Lyttleton; everything is re-packed and ready, and
we sail to-morrow morning in the _Albion_. She is a mail-steamer--very
small after our large vessel, but she looks clean and tidy; at all
events, we hope to be only on board her for ten days. In England one
fancies that New Zealand is quite close to Australia, so I was rather
disgusted to find we had another thousand miles of steaming to do before
we could reach our new home; and one of the many Job's comforters who
are scattered up and down the world assures me that the navigation is
the most dangerous and difficult of the whole voyage.

We have seen a good deal of Melbourne this week; and not only of the
town, for we have had many drives in the exceedingly pretty suburbs,
owing to the kindness of the D----s, who have been most hospitable and
made our visit here delightful. We drove out to their house at Toorak
three or four times; and spent a long afternoon with them; and there I
began to make acquaintance with the Antipodean trees and flowers. I hope
you will not think it a very sweeping assertion if I say that all the
leaves look as if they were made of leather, but it really is so; the
hot winds appear to parch up everything, at all events, round Melbourne,
till the greatest charm of foliage is more or less lost; the flowers
also look withered and burnt up, as yours do at the end of a long, dry
summer, only they assume this appearance after the first hot wind in
spring. The suburb called Heidelberg is the prettiest, to my taste--an
undulating country with vineyards, and a park-like appearance which,
is very charming. All round Melbourne there are nice, comfortable,
English-looking villas. At one of these we called to return a visit
and found a very handsome house, luxuriously furnished, with beautiful
garden and grounds. One afternoon we went by rail to St. Kilda's,
a flourishing bathing-place on the sea-coast, about six miles from
Melbourne. Everywhere building is going on with great rapidity, and you
do not see any poor people in the streets. If I wanted to be critical
and find fault, I might object to the deep gutters on each side of the
road; after a shower of rain they are raging torrents for a short time,
through which you are obliged to splash without regard to the muddy
consequences; and even when they are dry, they entail sudden and
prodigious jolts. There are plenty of Hansoms and all sorts of other
conveyances, but I gave F---- no peace until he took me for a drive in a
vehicle which was quite new to me--a sort of light car with a canopy
and curtains, holding four, two on each seat, _dos-a-dos_, and called
a "jingle,"--of American parentage, I fancy. One drive in this
carriage was quite enough, however, and I contented myself with Hansoms
afterwards; but walking is really more enjoyable than anything else,
after having been so long cooped up on board ship.

We admired the fine statue, at the top of Collins Street, to the memory
of the two most famous of Australian explorers, Burke and Wills, and
made many visits to the Museum, and the glorious Free Library; we also
went all over the Houses of Legislature--very new and grand. But
you must not despise me if I confess to having enjoyed the shops
exceedingly: it was so unlike a jeweller's shop in England to see on the
counter gold in its raw state, in nuggets and dust and flakes; in this
stage of its existence it certainly deserves its name of "filthy lucre,"
for it is often only half washed. There were quantities of emus' eggs
in the silversmiths' shops, mounted in every conceivable way as cups and
vases, and even as work-boxes: some designs consisted of three or five
eggs grouped together as a centre-piece. I cannot honestly say I admired
any of them; they were generally too elaborate, comprising often
a native (spear in hand), a kangaroo, palms, ferns, cockatoos, and
sometimes an emu or two in addition, as a pedestal--all this in frosted
silver or gold. I was given a pair of these eggs before leaving
England: they were mounted in London as little flower-vases in a setting
consisting only of a few bulrushes and leaves, yet far better than any
of these florid designs; but he emu-eggs are very popular in Sydney or
Melbourne, and I am told sell rapidly to people going home, who take
them as a memento of their Australian life, and probably think that the
greater the number of reminiscences suggested by the ornament the more
satisfactory it is as a purchase.

I must finish my letter by a description of a dinner-party which about
a dozen of our fellow-passengers joined with us in giving our dear old
captain before we all separated. Whilst we were on board, it very often
happened that the food was not very choice or good: at all events
we used sometimes to grumble at it, and we generally wound up our
lamentations by agreeing that when we reached Melbourne we would have a
good dinner together. Looking back on it, I must say I think we were
all rather greedy, but we tried to give a better colouring to our
gourmandism by inviting the captain, who was universally popular, and by
making it as elegant and pretty a repast as possible. Three or four of
the gentlemen formed themselves into a committee, and they must really
have worked very hard; at all events they collected everything rare and
strange in the way of fish, flesh, and fowl peculiar to Australia,
the arrangement of the table was charming, and the delicacies were all
cooked and served to perfection. The ladies' tastes were considered in
the profusion of flowers, and we each found an exquisite bouquet by our
plate. I cannot possibly give you a minute account of the whole menu; in
fact, as it is, I feel rather like Froissart, who, after chronicling a
long list of sumptuous dishes, is not ashamed to confess, "Of all which
good things I, the chronicler of this narration, did partake!" The soups
comprised kangaroo-tail--a clear soup not unlike ox-tail, but with a
flavour of game. I wish I could recollect the names of the fish: the
fresh-water ones came a long distance by rail from the river Murray, but
were excellent nevertheless. The last thing which I can remember tasting
(for one really could do little else) was a most exquisite morsel of
pigeon--more like a quail than anything else in flavour. I am not a
judge of wine, as you may imagine, therefore it is no unkindness to the
owners of the beautiful vineyards which we saw the other day, to
say that I do not like the Australian wines. Some of the gentlemen
pronounced them to be excellent, especially the equivalent to Sauterne,
which has a wonderful native name impossible to write down; but, as I
said before, I do not like the rather rough flavour. We had not a great
variety of fruit at dessert: indeed, Sydney oranges constituted its main
feature, as it is too late for winter fruits, and too early for summer
ones: but we were not inclined to be over-fastidious, and thought
everything delicious.




Letter III: On to New Zealand.


Christchurch, Canterbury, N. Z. October 14th, 1865. As you so
particularly desired me when we parted to tell you _everything_, I must
resume my story where in my last letter I left it off. If I remember
rightly, I ended with an attempt at describing our great feast. We
embarked the next day, and as soon as we were out of the bay the little
_Albion_ plunged into heavy seas. The motion was much worse in her
than on board the large vessel we had been so glad to leave, and all my
previous sufferings seemed insignificant compared with what I endured in
my small and wretchedly hard berth. I have a dim recollection of F----
helping me to dress, wrapping me up in various shawls, and half carrying
me up the companion ladder; I crawled into a sunny corner among the
boxes of oranges with which the deck was crowded, and there I lay
helpless and utterly miserable. One well-meaning and good-natured
fellow-passenger asked F---- if I was fond of birds, and on his saying
"Yes," went off for a large wicker cage of hideous "laughing Jackasses,"
which he was taking as a great treasure to Canterbury. Why they
should be called "Jackasses" I never could discover; but the creatures
certainly do utter by fits and starts a sound which may fairly be
described as laughter. These paroxysms arise from no cause that one
can perceive; one bird begins, and all the others join in, and a more
doleful and depressing chorus I never heard: early in the morning seemed
the favourite time for this discordant mirth. Their owner also possessed
a cockatoo with a great musical reputation, but I never heard it get
beyond the first bar of "Come into the garden, Maud." Ill as I was, I
remember being roused to something like a flicker of animation when
I was shown an exceedingly seedy and shabby-looking blackbird with
a broken leg in splints, which its master (the same bird-fancying
gentleman) assured me he had bought in Melbourne as a great bargain for
only 2 pounds 10 shillings!

After five days' steaming we arrived in the open roadstead of Hokitika,
on the west coast of the middle island of New Zealand, and five minutes
after the anchor was down a little tug came alongside to take away our
steerage passengers--three hundred diggers. The gold-fields on this
coast were only discovered eight months ago, and already several canvas
towns have sprung up; there are thirty thousand diggers at work, and
every vessel brings a fresh cargo of stalwart, sun-burnt men. It was
rather late, and getting dark, but still I could distinctly see the
picturesque tents in the deep mountain gorge, their white shapes dotted
here and there as far back from the shore as my sight could follow,
and the wreaths of smoke curling up in all directions from the evening
fires: it is still bitterly cold at night, being very early spring. The
river Hokitika washes down with every fresh such quantities of sand,
that a bar is continually forming in this roadstead, and though only
vessels of the least possible draught are engaged in the coasting-trade,
still wrecks are of frequent occurrence. We ought to have landed our
thousands of oranges here, but this work was necessarily deferred till
the morning, for it was as much as they could do to get all the diggers
and their belongings safely ashore before dark; in the middle of the
night one of the sudden and furious gales common to these seas sprang
up, and would soon have driven us on the rocks if we had not got our
steam up quickly and struggled out to sea, oranges and all, and away
to Nelson, on the north coast of the same island. Here we landed the
seventh day after leaving Melbourne, and spent a few hours wandering
about on shore. It is a lovely little town, as I saw it that spring
morning, with hills running down almost to the water's edge, and small
wooden houses with gables and verandahs, half buried in creepers, built
up the sides of the steep slopes. It was a true New Zealand day, still
and bright, a delicious invigorating freshness in the air, without
the least chill, the sky of a more than Italian blue, the ranges of
mountains in the distance covered with snow, and standing out, sharp and
clear against this lovely glowing heaven. The town itself, I must say,
seemed very dull and stagnant, with little sign of life or activity
about it; but nothing can be prettier or more picturesque than its
situation--not unlike that of a Swiss village. Our day came to an end
all too soon, and we re-embarked for Wellington, the most southern town
of the North Island. The seat of government is there, and it is supposed
to be a very thriving place, but is not nearly so well situated as
Nelson nor so attractive to strangers. We landed and walked about a good
deal, and saw what little there was to see. At first I thought the shops
very handsome, but I found, rather to my disgust, that generally the
fine, imposing frontage was all a sham; the actual building was only a
little but at the back, looking all the meaner for the contrast to the
cornices and show windows in front. You cannot think how odd it was to
turn a corner and see that the building was only one board in thickness,
and scarcely more substantial than the scenes at a theatre. We lunched
at the principal hotel, where F---- was much amused at my astonishment
at colonial prices. We had two dozen very nice little oysters, and he
had a glass of porter: for this modest repast we paid eleven shillings!

We slept on board, had another walk on shore after breakfast the
following morning, and about twelve o'clock set off for Lyttleton, the
final end of our voyaging, which we reached in about twenty hours.

The scenery is very beautiful all along the coast, but the navigation is
both dangerous and difficult. It was exceedingly cold, and Lyttleton
did not look very inviting; we could not get in at all near the
landing-place, and had to pay 2 pounds to be rowed ashore in an open
boat with our luggage. I assure you it was a very "bad quarter of an
hour" we passed in that boat; getting into it was difficult enough. The
spray dashed over us every minute, and by the time we landed we were
quite drenched, but a good fire at the hotel and a capital lunch soon
made us all right again; besides, in the delight of being actually at
the end of our voyage no annoyance or discomfort was worth a moment's
thought. F---- had a couple of hours' work rushing backwards and
forwards to the Custom House, clearing our luggage, and arranging for
some sort of conveyance to take us over the hills. The great tunnel
through these "Port Hills" (which divide Lyttleton from Christchurch,
the capital of Canterbury) is only half finished, but it seems wonderful
that so expensive and difficult an engineering work could be undertaken
by such an infant colony.

At last a sort of shabby waggonette was forthcoming, and about three
o'clock we started from Lyttleton, and almost immediately began to
ascend the zig-zag. It was a tremendous pull for the poor horses,
who however never flinched; at the steepest pinch the gentlemen were
requested to get out and walk, which they did, and at length we reached
the top. It was worth all the bad road to look down on the land-locked
bay, with the little patches of cultivation, a few houses nestling in
pretty recesses. The town of Lyttleton seemed much more imposing and
important as we rose above it: fifteen years ago a few sheds received
the "Pilgrims," as the first comers are always called. I like the name;
it is so pretty and suggestive. By the way, I am told that these four
ships, sent out with the pilgrims by the Canterbury Association, sailed
together from England, parted company almost directly, and arrived in
Lyttleton (then called Port Cooper) four months afterwards, on the same
day, having all experienced fine weather, but never having sighted each
other once.

As soon as we reached the top of the hill the driver looked to the
harness of his horses, put on a very powerful double break, and we began
the descent, which, I must say, I thought we took much too quickly,
especially as at every turn of the road some little anecdote was
forthcoming of an upset or accident; however, I would not show the
least alarm, and we were soon rattling along the Sumner Road, by the
sea-shore, passing every now and then under tremendous overhanging
crags. In half an hour we reached Sumner itself, where we stopped for a
few moments to change horses. There is an inn and a village here,
where people from Christchurch come in the warm weather for sea-air and
bathing. It began to rain hard, and the rest of the journey, some seven
or eight miles, was disagreeable enough; but it was the _end_, and that
one thought was sufficient to keep us radiantly good-humoured, in spite
of all little trials. When we reached Christchurch, we drove at once to
a sort of boarding-house where we had engaged apartments, and thought of
nothing but supper and bed.

The next day people began calling, and certainly I cannot complain of
any coldness or want of welcome to my new home. I like what I have
seen of my future acquaintances very much. Of course there is a very
practical style and tone over everything, though outwardly the place is
as civilized as if it were a hundred years old; well-paved streets, gas
lamps, and even drinking fountains and pillar post-offices! I often find
myself wondering whether the ladies here are at all like what our great
grandmothers were. I suspect they are, for they appear to possess an
amount of useful practical knowledge which is quite astonishing, and
yet know how to surround themselves, according to their means and
opportunities, with the refinements and elegancies of life. I feel quite
ashamed of my own utter ignorance on every subject, and am determined
to set to work directly and learn: at all events I shall have plenty
of instructresses. Christchurch is a very pretty little town, still
primitive enough to be picturesque, and yet very thriving: capital
shops, where everything may be bought; churches, public buildings, a
very handsome club-house, etc. Most of the houses are of wood, but when
they are burned down (which is often the case) they are now rebuilt of
brick or stone, so that the new ones are nearly all of these more solid
materials. I am disappointed to find that, the cathedral, of which I
had heard so much, has not progressed beyond the foundations, which cost
8,000 pounds: all the works have been stopped, and certainly there
is not much to show for so large a sum, but labour is very dear.
Christchurch is a great deal more lively and bustling than most English
country towns, and I am much struck by the healthy appearance of the
people. There are no paupers to be seen; every one seems well fed and
well clothed; the children are really splendid. Of course, as might be
expected, there is a great deal of independence in bearing and manner,
especially among the servants, and I hear astounding stories concerning
them on all sides. My next letter will be from the country, as we have
accepted an invitation to pay a visit of six weeks or so to a station in
the north of the province.




Letter IV: First introduction to "Station life."


Heathstock, Canterbury, November 13th, 1865. I have just had the
happiness of receiving my first budget of English letters; and no one
can imagine how a satisfactory home letter satisfies the hunger of
the heart after its loved and left ones. Your letter was particularly
pleasant, because I could perceive, as I held the paper in my hands,
that you were writing as you really felt, and that you were indeed
happy. May you long continue so, dearest.

F---- says that this beautiful place will give me a very erroneous
impression of station life, and that I shall probably expect to find its
comforts and luxuries the rule, whereas they are the exception; in the
mean time, however, I am enjoying them thoroughly. The house is only
sixty-five miles from Christchurch, nearly due north (which you must not
forget answers to your south in point of warmth). Our kind friends and
hosts, the L----s, called for us in their comfortable and large break,
with four horses. Mr. L---- drove, F---- sat on the box, and inside were
the ladies, children, and a nurse. Our first stage was to Kaiapoi, a
little town on the river Waimakiriri, where we had a good luncheon of
whitebait, and rested and fed the horses. From the window of the hotel I
saw a few groups of Maories; they looked very ugly and peaceable, with
a rude sort of basket made of flax fibres, or buckets filled with
whitebait, which they wanted us to buy. There are some reserved lands
near Kaiapoi where they have a very thriving settlement, living in
perfect peace and good-will with their white neighbours. When we set
off again on our journey, we passed a little school-house for their
children.

We reached Leathfield that evening, only twenty-five miles from
Christchurch; found a nice inn, or accommodation-house, as roadside inns
are called here; had a capital supper and comfortable beds, and were
up and off again at daylight the next morning. As far as the Weka Pass,
where we stopped for dinner, the roads were very good, but after that
we got more among the hills and off the usual track, and there were many
sharp turns and steep pinches; but Mr. L---- is an excellent whip, and
took great care of us. We all got very weary towards the end of this
second day's journey, and the last two hours of it were in heavy rain;
it was growing very dark when we reached the gate, and heard the welcome
sound of gravel under the wheels. I could just perceive that we had
entered a plantation, the first trees since we left Christchurch.
Nothing seems so wonderful to me as the utter treelessness of the vast
Canterbury plains; occasionally you pass a few Ti-ti palms (ordinarily
called cabbage-trees), or a large prickly bush which goes by the name of
"wild Irishman," but for miles and miles you see nothing but flat ground
or slightly undulating downs of yellow tussocks, the tall native grass.
It has the colour and appearance of hay, but serves as shelter for a
delicious undergrowth of short sweet herbage, upon which the sheep live,
and horses also do very well on it, keeping in good working condition,
quite unlike their puffy, fat state on English pasture.

We drove through the plantation and another gate, and drew up at the
door of a very large, handsome, brick house, with projecting gables and
a verandah. The older I grow the more convinced I am that contrast is
everything in this world; and nothing I can write can give you any
idea of the delightful change from the bleak country we had been slowly
travelling through in pouring rain, to the warmth and brightness of this
charming house. There were blazing fires ready to welcome us, and I feel
sure you will sufficiently appreciate this fact when I tell you that
by the time the coal reaches this, it costs nine pounds per ton. It is
possible to get Australian coal at about half the price, but it is not
nearly as good.

We were so tired that we were only fit for the lowest phase of human
enjoyment--warmth, food, and sleep; but the next morning was bright and
lovely, and I was up and out in the verandah as early as possible. I
found myself saying constantly, in a sort of ecstasy, "How I wish they
could see this in England!" and not only see but feel it, for the very
breath one draws on such a morning is a happiness; the air is so light
and yet balmy, it seems to heal the lungs as you inhale it. The verandah
is covered with honeysuckles and other creepers, and the gable end of
the house where the bow-window of the drawing-room projects, is one
mass of yellow Banksia roses in full blossom. A stream runs through
the grounds, fringed with weeping willows, which are in their greatest
beauty at this time of year, with their soft, feathery foliage of
the tenderest green. The flower beds are dotted about the lawn, which
surrounds the house and slopes away from it, and they are brilliant
patches of colour, gay with verbenas, geraniums, and petunias. Here and
there clumps of tall trees rise above the shrubs, and as a background
there is a thick plantation of red and blue gums, to shelter the garden
from the strong N.W. winds. Then, in front, the country stretches away
in undulating downs to a chain of high hills in the distance: every now
and then there is a deep gap in these, through which you see magnificent
snow-covered mountains.

The inside of the house is as charming as the outside, and the
perfection of comfort; but I am perpetually wondering how all the
furniture--especially 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 and glass shades, picture-frames, etc., with a sort of
respect, due to them for having survived so many dangers.

The first two or three days we enjoyed ourselves in a thoroughly lazy
manner; the garden was a never-ending source of delight, and there
were all the animals to make friends with, "mobs" of horses to look at,
rabbits, poultry, and pets of all sorts. About a week after our arrival,
some more gentlemen came, and then we had a series of picnics. As these
are quite unlike your highly civilized entertainments which go by the
same name, I must describe one to you.

The first thing after breakfast was to collect all the provisions,
and pack them in a sort of washing-basket, and then we started in an
American waggon drawn by a pair of stout cobs. We drove for some miles
till we came to the edge of one of the high terraces common to New
Zealand scenery: here we all got out; the gentlemen unharnessed and
tethered the horses, so that they could feed about comfortably, and
then we scrambled down the deep slope, at the bottom of which ran a
wide shallow creek. It was no easy matter to get the basket down here, I
assure you; we ladies were only permitted to load ourselves, one with a
little kettle, and the other with a tea-pot, but this was quite enough,
as crossing the creek by a series of jumps from one wet stone to another
is not easy for a beginner.

Mr. L---- brought a large dog with him, a kangaroo-hound (not unlike
a lurcher in appearance), to hunt the wekas. I had heard at night the
peculiar cry or call of these birds, but had not seen one until to-day.
"Fly" put up several, one after another, and soon ran them down. At
first I thought it very cruel to destroy such a tame and apparently
harmless creature, but I am assured that they are most mischievous, and
that it would be useless to turn out the pheasants and partridges which
Mr. L---- has brought from England, until the numbers of the wekas are
considerably reduced. They are very like a hen pheasant without the long
tail feathers, and until you examine them you cannot tell they have no
wings, though there is a sort of small pinion among the feathers, with
a claw at the end of it. They run very swiftly, availing themselves
cleverly of the least bit of cover; but when you hear a short sharp cry,
it is a sign that the poor weka is nearly done, and the next thing you
see is Fly shaking a bundle of brown feathers vehemently. All the dogs
are trained to hunt these birds, as they are a great torment, sucking
eggs and killing chickens; but still I could not help feeling sorry when
Fly, having disposed of the mother, returned to the flax-bush out of
which he had started her, and killed several baby-wekas by successive
taps of his paw.

I have wandered away from my account of the picnic in the most
unjustifiable manner. The gentlemen were toiling up the hill, after we
had crossed the creek, carrying the big basket by turns between them;
it was really hard work, and I must tell you in confidence, that I don't
believe they liked it--at least I can answer for one. I laughed at them
for not enjoying their task, and assured them that I was looking forward
with pleasure to washing up the plates and dishes after our luncheon;
but I found that they had all been obliged, in the early days of the
colony, to work at domestic drudgery in grim and grimy earnest, so it
had lost the charm of novelty which it still possessed for me.

As soon as we reached a pretty sheltered spot half-way up the hill among
some trees and ferns, and by the side of the creek, we unpacked the
basket, and began collecting dry wood for a fire: we soon had a splendid
blaze under the lee of a fine rock, and there we boiled our kettle and
our potatoes. The next thing was to find a deep hole in the creek, so
over-shadowed by rocks and trees that the water would be icy cold: in
this we put the champagne to cool. The result of all our preparations
was a capital luncheon, eaten in a most romantic spot, with a lovely
view before us, and the creek just like a Scotch burn, hurrying and
tumbling down the hill-side to join the broader stream in the valley.
After luncheon, the gentlemen considered themselves entitled to rest,
lying lazily back among the fern and smoking, whilst we ladies sat a
little apart and chatted: I was busy learning to knit. Then, about five,
we had the most delicious cup of tea I ever tasted, and we repacked the
basket (it was very light now, I assure you), and made our way back to
the top of the terrace, put the horses in again, and so home. It was
a long, bright, summer holiday, and we enjoyed it thoroughly. After a
voyage, such an expedition as this is full of delight; every tree and
bird is a source of pleasure.




Letter V: A pastoral letter.


Heathstock, December 1st, 1865. All I can find to tell you this month is
that I have seen one of the finest and best wool-sheds in the country
in full work. Anything about sheep is as new to you as it is to me, so I
shall begin my story at the very beginning.

I am afraid you will think us a very greedy set of people in this part
of the world, for eating seems to enter so largely into my letters; but
the fact is--and I may as well confess it at once--I am in a chronic
state of hunger; it is the fault of the fine air and the outdoor life:
and then how one sleeps at night! I don't believe you really know
in England what it is to be sleepy as we feel sleepy here; and it
is delightful to wake up in the morning with the sort of joyous
light-heartedness which only young children have. The expedition I
am going to relate may fairly be said to have begun with eating,
for although we started for our twelve miles' drive over the downs
immediately after an excellent and somewhat late breakfast, yet by the
time we reached the Home Station we were quite ready for luncheon. All
the work connected with the sheep is carried on here. The manager has
a nice house; and the wool-shed, men's huts, dip, etc., are near each
other. It is the busiest season of the year, and no time could be
spared to prepare for us; we therefore contented ourselves with what was
described to me as ordinary station fare, and I must tell you what they
gave us: first, a tureen of real mutton-broth, not hot water and chopped
parsley, but excel-lent thick soup, with plenty of barley and meat in
it; this had much the same effect on our appetites as the famous treacle
and brimstone before breakfast in "Nicholas Nickleby," so that we were
only able to manage a few little sheeps' tongues, slightly pickled; and
very nice _they_ were; then we finished with a Devonshire junket, with
clotted cream _a discretion_. Do you think we were much to be pitied?

After this repast we were obliged to rest a little before we set out
for the wool-shed, which has only been lately finished, and has all the
newest improvements. At first I am "free to confess" that I did not like
either its sounds or sights; the other two ladies turned very pale, but
I was determined to make myself bear it, and after a moment or two I
found it quite possible to proceed with Mr. L----round the "floor."
There were about twenty-five shearers at work, and everything seemed to
be very systematically and well arranged. Each shearer has a trap-door
close to him, out of which he pushes his sheep as soon as the fleece is
off, and there are little pens outside, so that the manager can notice
whether the poor animal has been too much cut with the shears, or badly
shorn in any other respect, and can tell exactly which shearer is to
blame. Before this plan was adopted it was hopeless to try to find out
who was the delinquent, for no one would acknowledge to the least snip.
A good shearer can take off 120 fleeces in a day, but the average is
about 80 to each man. They get one pound per hundred, and are found in
everything, having as much tea and sugar, bread and mutton, as they can
consume, and a cook entirely to themselves; they work at least fourteen
hours out of the twenty-four, and with such a large flock as this--about
50,000--must make a good deal.

We next inspected the wool tables, to which two boys were incessantly
bringing armfuls of rolled-up fleeces; these were laid on the tables
before the wool-sorters, who opened them out, and pronounced in a moment
to which _bin_ they belonged; two or three men standing behind rolled
them up again rapidly, and put them on a sort of shelf divided into
compartments, which were each labelled, so that the quality and kind of
wool could be told at a glance. There was a constant emptying of these
bins into trucks to be carried off to the press, where we followed
to see the bales packed. The fleeces are tumbled in, and a heavy
screw-press forces them down till the bale--which is kept open in a
large square frame--is as full as it can hold. The top of canvas is then
put on, tightly sewn, four iron pins are removed and the sides of the
frame fall away, disclosing a most symmetrical bale ready to be hoisted
by a crane into the loft above, where it has the brand of the sheep
painted on it, its weight, and to what class the wool belongs. Of course
everything has to be done with great speed and system.

I was much impressed by the silence in the shed; not a sound was to be
heard except the click of the shears, and the wool-sorter's decision as
he flings the fleece behind him, given in one, or at most two words. I
was reminded how touchingly true is that phrase, "Like as a sheep before
her shearers is dumb." All the noise is _outside_; there the hubbub, and
dust, and apparent confusion are great,--a constant succession of woolly
sheep being brought up to fill the "skillions" (from whence the shearers
take them as they want them), and the newly-shorn ones, white, clean,
and bewildered-looking, being turned out after they have passed through
a narrow passage, called a "race," where each sheep is branded, and has
its mouth examined in order to tell its age, which is marked in a book.
It was a comfort to think all their troubles were over, for a year. You
can hear nothing but barking and bleating, and this goes on from early
morning till dark. We peeped in at the men's huts--a long, low wooden
building, with two rows of "bunks" (berths, I should call their) in one
compartment, and a table with forms round it in the other, and piles of
tin plates and pannikins all about. The kitchen was near, and we were
just in time to see an enormous batch of bread withdrawn from a huge
brick oven: the other commissariat arrangements were on the same scale.
Cold tea is supplied all day long to the shearers, and they appear to
consume great quantities of it.

Our last visit was to the Dip, and it was only a short one, for it
seemed a cruel process; unfortunately, this fine station is in technical
parlance "scabby," and although of course great precautions are taken,
still some 10,000 sheep had an ominous large S on them. These poor
sufferers are dragged down a plank into a great pit filled with hot
water, tobacco, and sulphur, and soused over head and ears two or three
times. This torture is repeated more than once.

I was very glad to get away from the Dip, and back to the manager's
house, where we refreshed ourselves by a delicious cup of tea, and soon
after started for a nice long drive home in the cool, clear evening
air. The days are very hot, but never oppressive; and the mornings and
evenings are deliciously fresh and invigorating. You can remain out late
without the least danger. Malaria is unknown, and, in spite of the heavy
rains, there is no such thing as damp. Our way lay through very pretty
country--a series of terraces, with a range of mountains before us, with
beautiful changing and softening evening tints creeping over the whole.

I am sorry to say, we leave this next week. I should like to explore a
great deal more.




Letter VI: Society.--houses and servants.


Christchurch, January 1866. I am beginning to get tired of Christchurch
already: but the truth is, I am not in a fair position to judge of it
as a place of residence; for, living temporarily, as we do, in a sort of
boarding-house, I miss the usual duties and occupations of home, and the
town itself has no place of public amusement except a little theatre, to
which it is much too hot to go. The last two weeks have been _the_ gay
ones of the whole year; the races have been going on for three days, and
there have been a few balls; but as a general rule, the society may
be said to be extremely stagnant. No dinner-parties are ever given--I
imagine, on account of the smallness of the houses and the inefficiency
of the servants; but every now and then there is an assembly ball
arranged, in the same way, I believe, as at watering-places in England
only, of course, on a much smaller scale. I have been at two or three
of these, and noticed at each a most undue preponderance of black coats.
Nearly all the ladies were married, there were very few young girls; and
it would be a great improvement to the Christchurch parties if some of
the pretty and partnerless groups of a London ball-room, in all their
freshness of toilette, could be transferred to them. What a sensation
they would make, and what terrible heart-aches among the young gentlemen
would be the result of such an importation! There were the same knots of
men standing together as at a London party, but I must say that, except
so far as their tailor is concerned, I think we have the advantage of
you, for the gentlemen lead such healthy lives that they all look more
or less bronzed and stalwart--in splendid condition, not like your pale
dwellers in cities; and then they come to a ball to dance, arriving
early so as to secure good partners, and their great ambition appears to
be to dance every dance from the first to the last. This makes it hard
work for the few ladies, who are not allowed to sit down for a moment,
and I have often seen a young and pretty partner obliged to divide her
dances between two gentlemen.


Although it tells only against myself, I must make you laugh at an
account of a snub I received at one of these balls. Early in the evening
I had danced with a young gentleman whose station was a long way "up
country," and who worked so hard on it that he very seldom found time
for even the mild dissipations of Christchurch; he was good-looking
and gentlemanly, and seemed clever and sensible, a little _brusque_,
perhaps, but one soon gets used to that here. During our quadrille he
confided to me that he hardly knew any ladies in the room, and that his
prospects of getting any dancing were in consequence very blank. I did
all I could to find partners for him, introducing him to every lady whom
I knew, but it was in vain; they would have been delighted to dance with
him, but their cards were filled. At the end of the evening, when I was
feeling thoroughly done up, and could hardly stand up for fatigue, my
poor friend came 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 heart softened,
and I thought I would make a great effort and try to get through one
more set of Lancers; my partner seemed so grateful, that the demon of
vanity, or coquetry, or whatever it is that prompts one to say absurd
things induced me to fish for a compliment, and to observe, "It was not
worth while taking all the trouble of riding such a distance to dance
only with me, was it?" Whereupon my poor, doleful friend answered, with
a deep sigh, and an accent of profound conviction, "No, indeed it was
_not_!" I leave you to imagine my discomfiture; but luckily he never
observed it, and I felt all the time that I richly deserved what I got,
for asking such a stupid question.

The music at these balls is very bad, and though the principal room in
which they are given, at the Town Hall, is large and handsome, it is
poorly lighted, and the decorations are desolate in the extreme. I am
afraid this is not a very inviting picture of what is almost our only
opportunity of meeting together, but it is tolerably correct. Visiting
appears to be the business of some people's lives, but the acquaintance
does not seem to progress beyond incessant afternoon calls; we are
never asked inside a house, nor, as far as I can make out, is there any
private society whatever, and the public society consists, as I have
said, of a ball every now and then.

My greatest interest and occupation consist in going to look at my
house, which is being cut out in Christchurch, and will be drayed to our
station next month, a journey of fifty miles. It is, of course, only of
wood, and seems about as solid as a band-box; but I am assured by the
builder that it will be a "most superior article" when it is all put
together. F---- and I made the little plan of it ourselves, regulating
the size of the drawing-room by the dimensions of the carpet we brought
out, and I petitioned for a little bay-window, which is to be added; so
on my last visit to his timber-yard, the builder said, with an air of
great dignity, "Would you wish to see the _h_oriel, mum?" The doors all
come ready-made from America, and most of the wood used in building is
the Kauri pine from the North Island. One advantage, at all events, in
having wooden houses is the extreme rapidity with which they are run up,
and there are no plastered walls to need drying. For a long time we were
very uncertain where, and what, we should build on our station; but only
six weeks after we made up our minds, a house is almost ready for us.
The boards are sawn into the requisite lengths by machinery; and all the
carpentering done down here; the frame will only require to be fitted
together when it reaches its destination, and it is a very good time of
year for building, as the wool drays are all going back empty, and we
can get them to take the loads at reduced prices; but even with this
help, it is enormously expensive to move a small house fifty miles, the
last fifteen over bad roads; it is collar-work for the poor horses all
the way, Christchurch being only nine feet above the sea-level, while
our future home in the Malvern Hills is twelve hundred.

You know we brought all our furniture out with us, and even papers for
the rooms, just because we happened to have everything; but I should not
recommend any one to do so, for the expense of carriage, though moderate
enough by sea (in a wool ship), is enormous as soon as it reaches
Lyttleton, and goods have to be dragged up country by horses or
bullocks. There are very good shops where you can buy everything, and
besides these there are constant sales by auction where, I am told,
furniture fetches a price sometimes under its English value. House rent
about Christchurch is very high. We looked at some small houses in and
about the suburbs of the town, when we were undecided about our plans,
and were offered the most inconvenient little dwellings, with rooms
which were scarcely bigger than cupboards, for 200 pounds a year; we
saw nothing at a lower price than this, and any house of a better class,
standing in a nicely arranged shrubbery, is at least 300 pounds per
annum. Cab-hire is another thing which seems to me disproportionately
dear, as horses are very cheap; there are no small fares, half-a-crown
being the lowest "legal tender" to a cabman; and I soon gave up
returning visits when I found that to make a call in a Hansom three
or four miles out of the little town cost one pound or one pound ten
shillings, even remaining only a few minutes at the house.

All food (except mutton) appears to be as 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, and employment, a certainty. The
look and bearing of the immigrants appear to alter soon after they reach
the colony. Some people object to the independence of their manner, but
I do not; on the contrary, I like to see the upright gait, the well-fed,
healthy look, the decent clothes (even if no one touches his hat to
you), instead of the half-starved, depressed appearance, and too often
cringing servility of the mass of our English population. Scotchmen do
particularly well out here; frugal and thrifty, hard-working and sober,
it is easy to predict the future of a man of this type in a new country.
Naturally, the whole tone of thought and feeling is almost exclusively
practical; even in a morning visit there is no small-talk. I find no
difficulty in obtaining the useful information upon domestic subjects
which I so much need; for it is sad to discover, after all my
house-keeping experience, that I am still perfectly ignorant. Here it is
necessary to know _how_ everything should be done; it is not sufficient
to give an order, you must also be in a position to explain how it is to
be carried out I felt quite guilty when I saw the picture in _Punch_ the
other day, of a young and inexperienced matron requesting her cook "not
to put any lumps into the melted butter," and reflected that I did
not know how lumps should be kept out; so, as I am fortunate enough to
number among my new friends a lady who is as clever in these culinary
details as she is bright and charming in society, I immediately went
to her for a lesson in the art of making melted butter without putting
lumps into it.

The great complaint, the never-ending subject of comparison and
lamentation among ladies, is the utter ignorance and inefficiency of
their female servants. As soon as a ship comes in it is besieged with
people who want servants, but it is very rare to get one who knows how
to do anything as it ought to be done. Their lack of all knowledge of
the commonest domestic duties is most surprising, and makes one wonder
who in England did the necessary things of daily cottage life for them,
for they appear to have done nothing for themselves hitherto. As for a
woman knowing how to cook, that seems the very last accomplishment they
acquire; a girl will come to you as a housemaid at 25 pounds per annum,
and you will find that she literally does not know how to hold her
broom, and has never handled a duster. When you ask a nurse her
qualifications for the care of perhaps two or three young children, you
may find, on close cross-examination, that she can recollect having
once or twice "held mother's baby," and that she is very firm in
her determination that "you'll keep baby yourself o' nights; mem!" A
perfectly inexperienced girl of this sort will ask, and get, 30 pounds
or 35 pounds per annum, a cook from 35 pounds to 40 pounds; and when
they go "up country," they hint plainly they shall not stay long with
you, and ask higher wages, stipulating with great exactness how they are
to be conveyed free of all expense to and from their place.

Then, on the other hand, I must say they work desperately hard, and very
cheerfully: I am amazed how few servants are kept even in the large and
better class of houses. As a general rule, they, appear willing enough
to learn, and I hear no complaints of dishonesty or immorality, though
many moans are made of the rapidity with which a nice tidy young woman
is snapped up as a wife; but that is a complaint no one can sympathise
with. On most stations a married couple is kept; the man either to act
as shepherd, or to work in the garden and look after the cows, and
the woman is supposed to attend to the indoor comforts of the wretched
bachelor-master: but she generally requires to be taught how to bake a
loaf of bread, and boil a potato, as well as how to cook mutton in the
simplest form. In her own cottage at home, who did all these things for
her? These incapables are generally perfectly helpless and awkward at
the wash-tub; no one seems to expect servants to know their business,
and it is very fortunate if they show any capability of learning.

I must end my long letter by telling you a little story of my own
personal experience in the odd ways of these girls. The housemaid at the
boarding-house where we have stayed since we left Heathstock is a fat,
sonsy, good-natured girl, perfectly ignorant and stupid, but she has not
been long in the colony, and seems willing to learn. She came to me the
other day, and, without the least circumlocution or hesitation, asked
me if I would lend her my riding-habit as a pattern to give the tailor;
adding that she wanted my best and 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, and bought a hat, so now she
had nothing on her mind except the habit; and further added, that she
intended to leave her situation the day before the races, and that it
was "her fixed intent" to appear on horseback each day, and all day
long, at these said races. I inquired if she knew how to ride? No;
she had never mounted any animal in her life. I suggested that she had
better take some lessons before her appearance in public; but she said
her mistress did not like to spare her to "practise," and she stuck
steadily to her point of wanting my habit as a pattern. I could not lend
it to her, fortunately, for it had been sent up to the station with my
saddle, etc.; so had she been killed, as I thought not at all unlikely,
at least my conscience would not have reproached me for aiding and
abetting her equestrian freak. I inquired from every one who went to the
races if they saw or heard of any accident to a woman on horseback, and
I most anxiously watched the newspapers to see if they contained any
notice of the sort, but as there has been no mention of any catastrophe,
I suppose she has escaped safely. Her horse must have been quieter and
better broken than they generally are. F---- says that probably it was a
very old "station screw." I trust so, for her sake!




Letter VII: A young colonist.--the town and its neighbourhood.


Christchurch, March 1866. I must begin my letter this mail with a piece
of domestic news, and tell you of the appearance of your small nephew,
now three weeks old. The youth seems inclined to adapt himself to
circumstances, and to be as sturdy and independent as colonial children
generally are. All my new friends and neighbours proved most kind and
friendly, and were full of good offices. Once I happened to say that I
did not like the food as it was cooked at the boarding-house; and the
next day, and for many days after, all sorts of dainties were sent to
me, prepared by hands which were as skilful on the piano, or with a
pencil, as they were in handling a saucepan. New books were lent to me,
and I was never allowed to be without a beautiful bouquet. One young
lady used constantly to walk in to town, some two or three miles along a
hot and dusty road, laden with flowers for me, just because she saw how
thoroughly I enjoyed her roses and carnations. 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 the country, and the "squatters"
(as owners of sheep-stations are called) have returned to their stations
to vegetate, or work, as their tastes and circumstances may dictate.
Very few people live in the town except the tradespeople; the
professional men prefer little villas two or three miles off. These
houses stand in grounds of their own, and form a very pretty approach to
Christchurch, extending a few miles on all sides: There are large trees
bordering most of the streets, which give a very necessary shade in
summer; they are nearly all English sorts, and have only been planted
within a few years. Poplars, willows, and the blue gum grow quickest,
are least affected by the high winds, and are therefore the most
popular. The banks of the pretty little river Avon, upon which
Christchurch is built, are thickly fringed with weeping willows,
interspersed with a few other trees, and with clumps of tohi, which is
exactly like the Pampas grass you know so well in English shrubberies.
I don't think I have ever told you that it has been found necessary here
to legislate against water-cress. It was introduced a few years since,
and has spread so rapidly as to become a perfect nuisance, choking every
ditch in the neighbourhood of Christchurch, blocking up mill-streams,
causing meadows to be flooded, and doing all kinds of mischief.

Towards Riccarton, about four miles out of town, the Avon shows like a
slender stream a few inches wide, moving sluggishly between thick beds
of water-cress, which at this time of year are a mass of white blossom.
It looks so perfectly solid that whenever I am at Ilam, an insane desire
to step on it comes over me, much to F----'s alarm, who says he is
afraid to let me out of his sight, lest I should attempt to do so.
I have only seen one native "bush" or forest yet, and that is at
Riccarton. This patch of tall, gaunt pines serves as a landmark for
miles. Riccarton is one of the oldest farms in the colony, and I am told
it possesses a beautiful garden. I can only see the gable-end of a house
peeping out from among the trees as I pass. This bush is most carefully
preserved, but I believe that every high wind injures it.

Christchurch is very prettily situated; for although it stands on a
perfectly flat plain, towards the sea there are the Port Hills, and the
town itself is picturesque, owing to the quantities of trees and the
irregular form of the wooden houses; and as a background we have
the most magnificent chain of mountains--the back-bone of the
island--running from north to south, the highest peaks nearly always
covered with snow, even after such a hot summer as this has been. The
climate is now delicious, answering in time of year to your September;
but we have far more enjoyable weather than your autumns can boast of.
If the atmosphere were no older than the date of the settlement of the
colony, it could not feel more _youthful_, it is so light and bright,
and exhilarating! The one drawback, and the only one, is the north-west
wind; and the worst of it is, that it blows very often from this
point. However, I am assured that I have not yet seen either a "howling
nor'-wester," nor its exact antithesis, "a sutherly buster."

We have lately been deprived of the amusement of going to see our house
during the process of cutting it out, as it has passed that stage, and
has been packed on drays and sent to the station, with two or three
men to put it up. It was preceded by two dray-loads of small rough-hewn
stone piles, which are first let into the ground six or eight feet
apart: the foundation joists rest on these, so as just to keep the
flooring from touching the earth. I did not like this plan (which is the
usual one) at all, as it seemed to me so insecure for the house to
rest only on these stones. I told the builder that I feared a strong
"nor'-wester" (and I hear they are particularly strong in the Malvern
Hills) would blow the whole affair away. He did not scout the idea as
much as I could have wished, but held out hopes to me that the roof
would "kep it down." I shall never dare to trust the baby out of my
sight, lest he should be blown away; and I have a plan for securing his
cradle, by putting large heavy stones in it, somewhere out of his way,
so that he need not be hurt by them. Some of the houses are built of
"cob," especially those erected in the very early days, when sawn timber
was rare and valuable: this material is simply wet clay with chopped
tussocks stamped in. It makes very thick walls, and they possess the
great advantage of being cool in summer and warm in winter. Whilst the
house is new nothing can be nicer; but, in a few years, the hot winds
dry up the clay so much, that it becomes quite pulverized; and a lady
who lives in one of these houses told me, that during a high wind she
had often seen the dust from the walls blowing in clouds about the
rooms, despite of the canvas and paper, and with all the windows
carefully closed.

Next week F---- is going up to the station, to unpack and arrange a
little, and baby and I are going to be taken care of at Ilam, the most
charming place I have yet seen. I am looking forward to my visit there
with great pleasure.




Letter VIII: Pleasant days at Ilam.


Ilam, April 1866. We leave this to-morrow for the station in the most
extraordinary conveyance you ever saw. Imagine a flat tray with two low
seats in it, perched on four very high wheels, quite innocent of any
step or means of clambering in and out, and drawn, tandem-fashion,
by two stout mares; one of which has a little foal by her side. The
advantage of this vehicle is that it is very light, and holds a good
deal of luggage. We hope to accomplish the distance--fifty miles--in a
day, easily.

Although this is not my first visit to Ilam, I don't think I have ever
described it to you. The house is of wood, two storeys high, and came
out from England! It is built on a brick foundation, which is quite
unusual here. Inside, it is exactly like a most charming English house,
and when I first stood in the drawing-room it was difficult to believe:
that I was at the other end of the world. All the newest books, papers,
and periodicals covered the tables, the newest music lay on the piano,
whilst a profusion of English greenhouse flowers in Minton's loveliest
vases added to the illusion. The Avon winds through the grounds, which
are very pretty, and are laid out in the English fashion; but in spite
of the lawn with its croquet-hoops and sticks, and the beds of flowers
in all their late summer beauty, there is a certain absence of the
stiffness and trimness of English pleasure-grounds, which shows that
you have escaped from the region of conventionalities. There are thick
clumps of plantations, which have grown luxuriantly, and look as if they
had always been there. A curve of the opposite bank is a dense mass of
native flax bushes, with their tall spikes of red blossom filling
the air with a scent of honey, and attracting all the bees in the
neighbourhood. Ti-ti palms are dotted here and there, and give a foreign
and tropical appearance to the whole. There is a large kitchen garden
and orchard, with none of the restrictions of high walls and locked
gates which fence your English peaches and apricots.

The following is our receipt for killing time at Ilam:--After breakfast,
take the last _Cornhill_ or _Macmillan_, put on a shady hat, and sit or
saunter by the river-side under the trees, gathering any very tempting
peach or apricot or plum or pear, until luncheon; same thing until five
o'clock tea; then cross the river by a rustic bridge, ascend some turf
steps to a large terrace-like meadow, sheltered from the north-west
winds by a thick belt of firs, blue gums, and poplars, and play croquet
on turf as level as a billiard-table until dinner. At these games the
cockatoo always assists, making himself very busy, waddling after his
mistress all over the field, and climbing up her mallet whenever he
has an opportunity. "Dr. Lindley"--so called from his taste for pulling
flowers to pieces--apparently for botanical purposes--is the tamest and
most affectionate of birds, and I do not believe he ever bit any one in
his life; he will allow himself to be pulled about, turned upside down,
scratched under his wings, all with the greatest indifference, or rather
with the most positive enjoyment. One evening I could not play croquet
for laughing at his antics. He took a sudden dislike to a little rough
terrier, and hunted him fairly off the ground at last, chasing him all
about, barking at him, and digging his beak into the poor dog's paw. But
the "Doctor's" best performance is when he imitates a hawk. He reserves
this fine piece of acting until his mistress is feeding her poultry;
then, when all the hens and chickens, turkeys, and pigeons are in the
quiet enjoyment of their breakfast or supper, the peculiar shrill cry
of a hawk is heard overhead, and the Doctor is seen circling in the air,
uttering a scream occasionally. The fowls never find out that it is a
hoax, but run to shelter, cackling in the greatest alarm--hens clucking
loudly for their chicks, turkeys crouching under the bushes, the pigeons
taking refuge in their house; as soon as the ground is quite clear,
Cocky changes his wild note for peals of laughter from a high tree,
and finally alighting on the top of a hen-coop filled with trembling
chickens, remarks in a suffocated voice, "You'll be the death of me."

I must reverse the proverb about the ridiculous and the sublime, and
finish my letter by telling you of Ilam's chief outdoor charm: from
all parts of the garden and grounds I can feast my eyes on the glorious
chain of mountains which I have before told you of, and my bedroom
window has a perfect panoramic view of them. I watch them under all
their changes of tint, and find each new phase the most beautiful. In
the very early morning I have often stood shivering at my window to see
the noble outline gradually assuming shape, and finally standing out
sharp and clear against a dazzling sky; then, as the sun rises, the
softest rose-coloured and golden tints touch the highest peaks, the
shadows deepening by the contrast. Before a "nor'-wester" the colours
over these mountains and in the sky are quite indescribable; no one but
Turner could venture upon such a mixture of pale sea-green with deep
turquoise blue, purple with crimson and orange. One morning an arch-like
appearance in the clouds over the furthest ranges was pointed out to me
as the sure forerunner of a violent gale from the north-west, and the
prognostic was fulfilled. It was formed of clouds of the deepest and
richest colours; within its curve lay a bare expanse of a wonderful
green tint, crossed by the snowy _silhouette_ of the Southern Alps.
A few hours afterwards the mountains were quite hidden by mist, and a
furious gale of hot wind was shaking the house as if it must carry it
off into the sky; it blew so continuously that the trees and shrubs
never seemed to rise for a moment against it.

These hot winds affect infants and children a good deal, and my baby is
not at all well. However, his doctor thinks the change to the station
will set him all right again, so we are hurrying off much sooner than
our kind friends here wish, and long before the little house in the
hills can possibly be made comfortable, though F---- is working very
hard to get things settled for us.




Letter IX: Death in our new home--New Zealand children.


Broomielaw, Malvern Hills, May 1866. I do not like to allow the first
Panama steamer 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 of grief for the loss of our dear little baby.
After I last wrote to you he became very ill, but we hoped that his
malady was only caused by the unhealthiness of Christchurch during the
autumn, and that he would soon revive and get on well in this pure,
beautiful mountain air. We consequently hurried here as soon as ever we
could get into the house, and whilst the carpenters were still in it.
Indeed, there was only one bedroom ready for us when I arrived. The
poor little man rallied at first amazingly; the weather was exquisitely
bright and sunny, and yet bracing. Baby was to be kept in the open air
as much as possible, so F---- and I spent our days out on the downs near
the house, carrying our little treasure by turns: but all our care was
fruitless: he got another and more violent attack about a fortnight ago,
and after a few hours of suffering he was taken to the land where pain
is unknown. During the last twelve hours of his life, as I sat before
the fire with him on my lap, poor F----kneeling in a perfect agony of
grief by my side, my greatest comfort was in looking at that exquisite
photograph from Kehren's picture of the "Good Shepherd," which hangs
over my bedroom mantelpiece, and thinking that our sweet little lamb
would soon be folded in those Divine, all-embracing Arms. It is not
a common picture; and the expression of the Saviour's face is most
beautiful, full of such immense feminine compassion and tenderness that
it makes me feel more vividly, "In all our sorrows He is afflicted." In
such a grief as this I find the conviction of the reality and depth of
the Divine sympathy is my only true comfort; the tenderest human love
falls short of the feeling that, without any words to express our
sorrow, God knows all about it; that He would not willingly afflict or
grieve us, and that therefore the anguish which wrings our hearts is
absolutely necessary in some mysterious way for our highest good. I fear
I have often thought lightly of others' trouble in the loss of so young
a child; but now I know what it is. Does it not seem strange and sad,
that this little house in a distant, lonely spot, no sooner becomes a
home than it is baptized, as it were, with tears? No doubt there are
bright and happy days in store for us yet, but these first ones here
have been sadly darkened by this shadow of death. Inanimate things have
such a terrible power to wound one: though everything which would remind
me of Baby has been carefully removed and hidden away by F----'s orders,
still now and then I come across some trifle belonging to him, and, as
Miss Ingelow says--

      "My old sorrow wakes and cries."

Our loss is one too common out here, I am told: infants born in
Christchurch during the autumn very often die. Owing to the flatness of
the site of the town, it is almost impossible to get a proper system of
drainage; and the arrangements seem very bad, if you are to judge from
the evil smells which are abroad in the evening. Children who are born
on a station, or taken there as soon as possible, almost invariably
thrive, but babies are very difficult to rear in the towns. If they get
over the first year, they do well; and I cannot really call to mind a
single sickly, or even delicate-looking child among the swarms which one
sees everywhere.

I cannot say that I think colonial children prepossessing in either
manners or appearance, in spite of their ruddy cheeks and sturdy limbs.
Even quite little things are pert and independent, and give me the idea
of being very much spoiled. When you reflect on the utter absence of any
one who can really be called a nurse, this is not to be wondered at. The
mothers are thoroughly domestic and devoted to their home duties, far
more so than the generality of the same class at home. An English lady,
with even an extremely moderate income, would look upon her colonial
sister as very hard-worked indeed. The children cannot be entrusted
entirely to the care of an ignorant girl, and the poor mother has
them with her all day long; if she goes out to pay visits (the only
recognized social duty here), she has to take the elder children with
her, but this early introduction into society does not appear to polish
the young visitors' manners in the least. There is not much rest at
night for the mater-familias with the inevitable baby, and it is of
course very difficult for her to be correcting small delinquents all day
long; so they grow up with what manners nature gives them. There seems
to me, however, to be a greater amount of real domestic happiness out
here than at home: perhaps the want of places of public amusement may
have something to do with this desirable state of affairs, but the homes
seem to be thoroughly happy ones. A married man is an object of envy
to his less fortunate brethren, and he appears anxious to show that
he appreciates his good fortune. As for scandal, in the ordinary
acceptation of the word, it is unknown; gossip there is in plenty, but
it generally refers to each other's pecuniary arrangements or trifling
peculiarities, and is all harmless enough. I really believe that the
life most people lead here is as simple and innocent as can well be
imagined. Each family is occupied in providing for its own little daily
wants and cares, which supplies the mind and body with healthy and
legitimate employment, and yet, as my experience tells me, they have
plenty of leisure to do a kind turn for a neighbour. This is the bright
side of colonial life, and there is more to be said in its praise; but
the counterbalancing drawback is, that the people seem gradually to lose
the sense of larger and wider interests; they have little time to keep
pace with the general questions of the day, and anything like sympathy
or intellectual appreciation is very rare. I meet accomplished people,
but seldom well-read ones; there is also too much talk about money:
"where the treasure is, there will the heart be also;" and the incessant
financial discussions are wearisome, at least to me.




Letter X: Our station home.


Broomielaw, July 1866. We are now in mid-winter, and a more delicious
season cannot well be imagined; the early mornings and evenings and
the nights are very cold, but the hours from 10 A.M. till 5 P.M. are
exquisitely bright, and quite warm. We are glad of a fire at breakfast,
which is tolerably early, but we let it out and never think of
relighting it until dark. Above all, it is calm: I congratulate myself
daily on the stillness of the atmosphere, but F---- laughs and says,
"Wait until the spring." I bask all day in the verandah, carrying my
books and work there soon after breakfast; as soon as the sun goes down,
however, it becomes very cold. In an English house you would hardly feel
it, but with only one plank an inch thick, a lining-board and canvas and
paper, between you and a hard frost, a good fire is wanted. We burn coal
found twelve miles from this; it is not very good, being only what
is called "lignite." I don't know if that conveys to you a distinct
impression of what it really is. I should say it was a better sort
of turf: it smoulders just in the same way, and if not disturbed will
remain many hours alight; it requires a log of dry wood with it to
make a really good blaze. Fuel is most difficult to get here, and very
expensive, as we have no available "bush" on the Run; so we have first
to take out a licence for cutting wood in the Government bush, then
to employ men to cut it, and hire a drayman who possesses a team of
bullocks and a dray of his own, to fetch it to us: he can only take two
journeys a day, as he has four miles to travel each way, so that by the
time the wood is stacked it costs us at least thirty shillings a cord,
and then there is the labour of sawing and cutting it up. The coal costs
us one pound a ton at the mouth of the pit, and the carriage exactly
doubles its price; besides which it is impossible to get more, than a
small quantity at a time, on account of the effect of the atmosphere on
it. Exposure to the air causes it to crumble into dust, and although we
keep our supply in a little shed for the purpose, it is wasted to the
extent of at least a quarter of each load. We are unusually unfortunate
in the matter of firing; most stations have a bush near to the
homestead, or greater facilities for draying 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 warning you not to be disgusted
or disappointed at any shortcomings. The house has not been built in
a pretty situation, as many other things had to be considered before
a picturesque site: first it was necessary to build on a flat (as the
valleys here are called), not too far off the main track, on account of
having to make the road to it ourselves; the next thing to be thought
of was shelter from the north-west wind; then the soil must be fit for
a garden, and a good creek, or brook, which would not go dry in the
summer, close at hand. At present, everything out of doors is so
unfinished that the place looks rather desolate, and it will be some
years before our plantations can attain a respectable size, even
allowing for the rapid growth in this climate. The first step is to
obtain shelter from our enemy the "nor'-wester," and for this purpose we
have planted quantities of broom in all directions; even the large beds
for vegetables in the garden have a hedge of Cape broom on the exposed
side; fortunately, the broom grows very quickly in spite of the wind,
and attains to a luxuriant beauty rarely seen in England. We have put in
many other trees, such as oaks, maples, etc., but not one is higher than
this table, except a few poplars; the ground immediately outside the
house has been dug up, and is awaiting the spring to be sown with
English grass; we have no attempt at a flower-garden yet, but have
devoted our energies to the vegetable one,--putting in fruit trees,
preparing strawberry and asparagus beds, and other useful things. Out
of doors matters would not even be as far advanced towards a garden and
plantation as they are if we had commenced operations ourselves, but
the ground has been worked since last year. I am glad we have chosen to
build our house here instead of at the homestead two miles off; for I
like to be removed from the immediate neighbourhood of all the work of
the station, especially from that of the "gallows,"--a high wooden frame
from which the carcases of the butchered sheep dangle; under the present
arrangement the shepherd brings us over our mutton as we want it.

Inside the house everything is comfortable and pretty, and, above all
things, looks thoroughly home-like. Out of the verandah you pass through
a little hall hung with whips and sticks, spurs and hats, and with a
bookcase full of novels at one end of it, into a dining-room, large
enough for us, with more books in every available corner, the prints
you know so well on the walls, and a trophy of Indian swords and
hunting-spears over the fireplace: this leads into the drawing-room, a
bright, cheery little room--more books and pictures, and a writing-table
in the "_h_oriel." In that tall, white, classical-shaped vase of
Minton's which you helped me to choose is the most beautiful bouquet,
made entirely of ferns; it is a constant object for my walks up the
gullies, exploring little patches of bush to search for the ferns, which
grow abundantly under their shelter by the creek. I have a small but
comfortable bedroom, and there is a little dressing-room for F---- and
the tiniest spare room you ever saw; it really is not bigger than the
cabin of a ship. I think the kitchen is the chief glory of the house,
boasting a "Leamington range" a luxury quite unknown in these parts,
where all the cooking is done on an American stove,--a very good thing
in its way, but requiring to be constantly attended to. There is a
good-sized storeroom, in which F---- has just finished putting me up
some cupboards, and a servants' room. It is not a palace is it? But it
is quite large enough to hold a great deal of happiness. Outside, the
premises are still more diminutive; a little wash-house stands near the
kitchen door, and further up the enclosure is a stable, and a small room
next it for saddles, and a fowl-house and pig-stye, and a coal-shed. Now
you know everything about my surroundings; but--there is always a
_but_ in everything--I have one great grievance, and I hope you will
appreciate its magnitude.

It was impossible for F---- to come up here when the house was first
commenced, and the wretch of a builder deliberately put the drawing-and
dining-room fireplaces in the corner, right up against the partition
wall, of course utterly destroying the comfort as well as the symmetry
of the rooms. I am convinced some economy of bricks is at the bottom of
this arrangement, especially as the house was built by contract; but the
builder pretends to be surprised that I don't admire it, and says, "Why,
it's so oncommon, mum!" I assure you, when I first saw the ridiculous
appearance of the drawing-room pier-glass in the corner, I should
liked to have screamed out at the builder (like the Queen in "Alice in
Wonderland"), "Cut off his head!"

When we were packing up the things to come here, our friends expressed
their astonishment at our taking so many of the little elegancies of
life, such as drawing-room ornaments, pictures, etc. Now it is a great
mistake not to bring such things, at all events a few of them, for they
are not to be bought here, and they give the new home a certain likeness
to the old one which is always delightful. I do not advise people to
make large purchases of elegancies for a colonial life, but a few pretty
little trifles will greatly improve the look of even a New Zealand
up-country drawing-room.

You have asked me also about our wardrobes. Gentlemen wear just what
they would on a Scotch or English farm; in summer they require perhaps
a lighter hat, and long rides are always taken in boots and breeches.
A lady wears exactly what would be suitable in the country in England,
except that I should advise her to eschew muslin; the country outside
the home paddock is too rough for thin material; she also wants thick
boots if she is a good walker, and I find nails or little screws in the
soles a great help for hill-walking. A hat is my only difficulty: you
really want a shady hat for a protection against the sun, but there are
very few days in the year on which you can ride in anything but a
close, small hat, with hardly any brim at all, and even this must have
capabilities of being firmly fastened on the head. My nice, wide-brimmed
Leghorn hangs idly in the hall: there is hardly a morning still enough
to induce me to put it on even to go and feed my chickens or potter
about the garden. This being winter, I live in a short linsey dress,
which is just right as to warmth, and not heavy. It is a mistake to
bring too much: a year's supply will be quite enough; fresh material can
easily be procured in Christchurch or any of the large towns, or sent
out by friends. I find my sewing-machine the greatest possible comfort,
and as time passes on and my clothes need remodelling it will be still
more use ful. Hitherto I have used it chiefly for my friends' benefit;
whilst I was in town I constantly had little frocks brought to me to
tuck, and here I employ it in making quilted cloth hats for my gentlemen
neighbours.




Letter XI: Housekeeping, and other matters.


Broomielaw, September 1866. I am writing to you at the end of a
fortnight of very hard work, for I have just gone through my first
experience in changing servants; those I brought up with me four
months ago were nice, tidy girls and as a natural consequence of these
attractive qualities they have both left me to be married. I sent them
down to Christchurch in the dray, and made arrangements for two more
servants to return in the same conveyance at the end of a week. In the
meantime we had to do everything for ourselves, and on the whole we
found this picnic life great fun. The household consists, besides F----
and me, of a cadet, as they are called--he is a clergyman's son learning
sheep-farming under our auspices--and a boy who milks the cows and
does odd jobs out of doors. We were all equally ignorant of practical
cookery, so the chief responsibility rested on my shoulders, and cost me
some very anxious moments, I assure you, for a cookery-book is after all
but a broken reed to lean on in a real emergency; it starts by assuming
that its unhappy student possesses a knowledge of at least the rudiments
of the art, whereas it ought not to disdain to tell you whether the
water in which potatoes are to be boiled should be hot or cold. I must
confess that some of my earliest efforts were both curious and nasty,
but E ate my numerous failures with the greatest good-humour; the only
thing at which he made a wry face was some soup into which a large lump
of washing-soda had mysteriously conveyed itself; and I also had to
undergo a good deal of "chaff" about my first omelette, which was of the
size and consistency of a roly-poly pudding. Next to these failures
I think the bread was my greatest misfortune; it went wrong from the
first. One night I had prepared the tin dish full of flour, made a hole
in the midst of the soft white heap, and was about to pour in a cupful
of yeast to be mixed with warm water (you see I know all about it in
theory), when a sudden panic seized me, and I was afraid to draw the
cork of the large champagne bottle full of yeast, which appeared to be
very much "up." In this dilemma I went for F----. You must know that he
possesses such extraordinary and revolutionary theories on the subject
of cooking, that I am obliged to banish him from the kitchen altogether,
but on this occasion I thought I should be glad of his assistance. He
came with the greatest alacrity; assured me he knew all about it, seized
the big bottle, shook it violently, and twitched out the cork: there was
a report like a pistol-shot, and all my beautiful yeast flew up to the
ceiling of the kitchen, descending in a shower on my head; and F----
turned the bottle upside down over the flour, emptying the dregs of the
hops and potatoes into my unfortunate bread. However, I did not despair,
but mixed it up according to the directions given, and placed it on the
stove; but, as it turned out, in too warm a situation, for when I went
early the next morning to look at it, I found a very dry and crusty
mass. Still, nothing daunted, I persevered in the attempt, added more
flour and water, and finally made it up into loaves, which I deposited
in the oven. That bread _never_ baked! I tried it with a knife in
the orthodox manner, always to find that it was raw inside. The crust
gradually became several inches thick, but the inside remained damp, and
turned quite black at last; I baked it until midnight, and then I gave
it up and retired to bed in deep disgust. I had no more yeast and
could not try again, so we lived on biscuits and potatoes till the dray
returned at the end of the week, bringing, however, only one servant.
Owing to some confusion in the drayman's arrangements, the cook had been
left behind, and "Meary," the new arrival, professed her willingness to
supply her place; but on trial being made of her abilities, she proved
to be quite as inexperienced as I was; and to each dish I proposed she
should attempt, the unvarying answer was, "The missis did all that where
I come from." During the first few days after her arrival her
chief employment was examining the various knick-knacks about the
drawing-room; in her own department she was greatly taken with the
little cottage mangle. She mangled her own apron about twenty times a
day, and after each attempt I found her contemplating it with her head
on one side, and saying to herself, "'Deed, thin, it's as smooth as
smooth; how iver does it do it?" A few days later the cook arrived.
She is not all I could wish, being also Irish, and having the most
extraordinary notions of the use, or rather the abuse, of the various
kitchen implements: for instance, she will poke the fire with the
toasting fork, and disregards my gentle hints about the poker; but at
all events she can both roast mutton and bake bread. "Meary" has been
induced to wash her face and braid up her beautiful hair, and now shines
forth as a very pretty good-humoured girl. She is as clever and quick as
possible, and will in time be a capital housemaid. She has taken it into
her head that she would like to be a "first-rater," as she calls it, and
works desperately hard in the prosecution of her new fancy.

I have never told you of the Sunday services we established here from
the first week of our arrival. There is no church nearer than those
in Christchurch, nor--I may mention parenthetically--is there a doctor
within the same distance. As soon as our chairs and tables were in their
proper places, we invited our shepherds and those neighbours immediately
around us to attend service on Sunday afternoon at three o'clock. F----
officiates as clergyman; _my_ duties resemble those of a beadle, as I
have to arrange the congregation in their places, see that they have
Prayer-books, etc. Whenever we go out for a ride, we turn our horses'
heads up some beautiful valley, or deep gorge of a river, in search of
the huts of our neighbours' shepherds, that we may tell the men of
these services and invite them to attend. As yet, we have met with
no refusals, but it will give you an idea of the scantiness of
our population when I tell you that, after all our exertions, the
"outsiders" only amount to fourteen, and of these at least half are
gentlemen from neighbouring stations. With this number, in addition
to our own small group, we consider that we form quite a respectable
gathering. The congregation all arrive on horseback, each attended by at
least two big colley dogs; the horses are turned into the paddock, the
saddles deposited in the back verandah, and the dogs lie quietly down
by their respective masters' equipments until they are ready to start
homewards. There is something very wild and touching in these Sunday
services. If the weather is quite clear and warm, they are held in the
verandah; but unless it is a very sunny afternoon, it is too early in
the year yet for this.

The shepherds are a very fine class of men as a rule, and I find them
most intelligent; they lead solitary lives, and are fond of reading; and
as I am anxious to substitute a better sort of literature in their
huts than the tattered yellow volumes which generally form their scanty
library, I lend them books from my own small collection. But, as I
foresee that this supply will soon be exhausted, we have started a Book
Club, and sent to London for twenty pounds' worth of books as a first
instalment. We shall get them second-hand from a large library, so I
hope to receive a good boxful. The club consists of twenty-eight members
now, and will probably amount to thirty-two, which is wonderful for
this district. At the close of a year from the first distribution of the
books they are to be divided into lots as near as possible in value to
a pound each, the parcels to be numbered, and corresponding figures
written on slips of paper, which are to be shaken up in a hat and drawn
at random, each member claiming the parcel of which the number answers
to that on his ticket. This is the fairest way I can think of for the
distribution, and every one seems satisfied with the scheme. The most
popular books are those of travel or adventure; unless a novel is really
very good indeed, they do not care about it.

The last little item of home news with which I must close this month's
budget is, that F---- has been away for a few days on a skating
excursion. A rather distant neighbour of ours called on his way up to
the station far back among the hills, and gave such a glowing account of
the condition of the ice in that part of the country, that F----, who is
very fond of the amusement, was persuaded to accompany him. Our friend
is the son of the Bishop, and owns a large station about twenty-six
miles from this. At the back of his run the hills rise to a great
height, and nestled among them lie a chain of lakes, after the largest
of which (Lake Coleridge) Mr. H----'s station is named. On one of the
smaller lakes, called by the classical name of "Ida," the ice attains to
a great thickness; for it is surrounded by such lofty hills that during
the winter months the sun hardly touches it, and it is commonly reported
that a heavily-laden bullock-dray could cross it in perfect safety.
F----was away nearly a week, and appears to have enjoyed himself
thoroughly, though it will seem to you more of hard work than amusement;
for he and Mr. H----, and some other gentlemen who were staying there,
used to mount directly after breakfast, with their skates tied to their
saddle-bow, and ride twelve miles to Lake Ida, skate all through the
short winter's day, lunching at the solitary hut of a gentleman-farmer
close by the lake, and when it grew dusk riding home again. The
gentlemen in this country are in such good training through constant
exercise, that they appear able to stand any amount of fatigue without
minding it.




Letter XII: My first expedition.


Broomielaw, October 1866. This ought to be early spring, but the weather
is really colder and more disagreeable than any which winter brought us;
and, proverbially fickle as spring sunshine and showers are in England,
ours is a far more capricious and trying season. Twice during this month
have I been a victim to these sudden changes of climate; on the first
occasion it was most fortunate that we had reached the shelter of a
friendly and hospitable roof, for it was three days before we could
re-cross the mountain-pass which lay between us and home. One beautiful
spring morning F---- asked me if I would like to ride across the hills,
and pay my first visit to some kind and old friends of his, who were
among the earliest arrivals in the province, and who have made a lovely
home for themselves at the foot of a great Bush on the other side of
our range. I was delighted at the idea, for I have had very little
opportunity of going about since we came here, owing to the short
winter days and the amount of occupation at home consequent on a new
establishment.

Directly after breakfast, the horses were caught and saddled, and we
started in high spirits. As we rode up the long, sunny valley stretching
away for miles at the back of the house, F---- pointed out to me, with
all a sheep-farmer's pride, the hundreds of pretty little curly-fleeced
lambs skipping about the low hill-sides. After we passed our own
boundary fence we came upon a very bad track,--this is the name by which
all roads are called, and they do not deserve a better,--but it was the
only path to our destination. The air was mild and balmy, and the sun
shone brightly as we slowly picked our way across bogs and creeks,
and up and down steep, slippery hill-sides; but just as we reached the
lowest saddle of the range and prepared to descend, a cold wind met us.
In an instant the sunshine was overclouded, and F----, pointing to
a grey bank of cloud moving quickly towards us, said, "There is a
tremendous sou'-wester coming up; we had better push on for shelter,
or you'll be drowned:" but, alas! at each step the road grew worse and
worse; where it was level the ground was literally honeycombed with deep
holes half full of water, and at last we came to a place where the
horse had to descend a flight of stone steps, each step being extremely
slippery and some way below the other; and at the bottom of this
horrible staircase there was a wide jump to be taken, the spring being
off the lowest step, and the jump upwards alighting on a steep bank up
which the horses scrambled like cats. Getting wet through appeared to
me a very minor evil compared to the dangers of such a road, but F----
urged me forward, with assurances that the horse knew the path perfectly
well and could carry me at a gallop quite safely; but it was impossible
to infuse sufficient courage into my drooping heart to induce me to go
faster than a walk.

All this time the storm drew rapidly nearer, 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 up to the
hospitable, ever-open porch door of Rockwood. I was immediately lifted
off my saddle by kind and strong arms, and carried with frozen limbs
and streaming habit into the kitchen, for I was as unfit for the
drawing-room as my own water-spaniel. A blazing wood fire was hastily
lighted in one of the bed-rooms, and thither the good hostess conveyed
me. I emerged from that apartment the most extraordinary figure you ever
saw. Imagine me arrayed in a short and very wide crinoline, over which
was a bright-coloured linsey petticoat; an old pilot-coat for a jacket,
huge carpet slippers on my feet, and my dripping hair hanging loose
over my shoulders! I assure you, I looked like the portraits in books of
travel, of the Tahitian women when they first assumed clothes; and the
worst of it was, that I had to remain in this costume for three whole
days. To return was impossible, the storm from the S.W. raged all that
evening. When we opened our eyes next morning, snow was lying some
inches deep, and still falling fast; there was no cessation for
forty-eight hours, and then we had to give it time to thaw a little, so
that it was Sunday morning before we started on our homeward ride.
In the meantime, nothing could afford a greater contrast to the wild
weather out of doors than the snug brightness within. Blazing logs of
pine and black birch made every room warm and cheery; all day we chatted
and amused ourselves in different ways (I learned to make a capital
pudding, and acquainted myself with the mysteries of "junket"); in the
evenings we had whist for an hour, and then either round games or songs.
The young men of the house have nice voices and a great feeling for
music, and some of the trios and glees went very well indeed. The only
thing which spoilt my enjoyment was the constantly recurring remembrance
of that terrible road. F---- tried to comfort me by assurances that the
snow would have filled up the worst places so much that I should not see
them, but, strange to say, I failed to derive any consolation from that
idea; however, we accomplished the journey back safely, but with many
slips and slides. As soon as we came on our own run, F----began to look
out for dead lambs, but fortunately there were not many for him to mourn
over; they must have taken shelter under the low hills, to leeward of
the storm.

The second ride was much longer, and if possible a more disagreeable
one. It began just in the same way; we were again decoyed out by
sunshine and soft air for a ride round the run, starting about half-past
ten. The scenery was beautiful, and we enjoyed ourselves immensely.
The track lay along our own boundary fence most of the way, and we had
ridden about ten miles, when we stopped at one of our shepherds' huts,
technically called an out station, and accepted his offer of luncheon.
He gave us capital tea, with an egg beaten up in it as a substitute
for milk, cold mutton, bread, and a cake; the reason of these unwonted
luxuries was that he kept fowls, and I was very jealous at seeing two
broods of chickens out, whilst mine are still in the shell. This man
is quite an artist, and the walls of his but were covered with bold
pen-and-ink sketches, chiefly reminiscences of the hunting-field in
England, or his own adventures "getting out" wild cattle on the Black
Hills in the north of the province: he leads an extremely-solitary
existence, his dogs being his only companions; his duties consist in
riding daily a boundary down the gorge of the river, which he has to
cross and re-cross many times: and he has to supply the home station and
our house with mutton, killing four or five sheep a week. He is employed
out of doors all day, but has plenty of time in the evenings for reading
I found him well-informed and intelligent, and he expresses himself
exceedingly well. We rested here an hour, and as we went outside 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 were riding over a dry river-bed, composed entirely of loose large
stones. Every few hundred yards we had to cross the river Selwyn, which
was rising rapidly, as the storm had been raging in the mountains long
before it reached us; on each side were high, steep hills, and in some
places the river filled up the gorge entirely, and we had to ride in the
water up to our saddle-girths. All this time the rain was coming down
in sheets, but the wind grew colder and colder; at last the rain turned
into snow, which speedily changed us and our horses into white moving
figures. Eight long weary miles of this had we, only able to trot the
last two, and those over very swampy ground. In your country a severe
cold would probably have been the least evil of this escapade, but here
no such consequence follow a good wetting; the houses are so little real
protection from the weather, that you are forced to live as it were
in the open air, whether you like it or not, and this hardens the
constitution so much, that it is not easy to take cold from a little
extra exposure. Men are apt to be careless and remain in their wet
things, or stand before a fire till their clothes dry on them; and
whenever I scold any one for being foolish, he always acknowledges that
if he does but change when he comes into a house, he _never_ catches
cold from any amount of exposure to the severest weather.




Letter XIII: Bachelor hospitality.--a gale on shore.


Broomielaw, November 1866. We have lately made a much longer excursion
than those I told you of last, month, and this time have been fortunate
in meeting with fine weather above all, our expedition has been over
perfectly level ground, and on a good "track," which has greatly
increased its charms in my eyes. A fortnight ago early summer set fairly
in, and some bachelor neighbours took advantage of the change to ride
over to see us, and arrange a plan for the following week. It all fitted
in nicely, for F---- was obliged to go to Christchurch at that time, and
the first idea of the expedition originated in my saying how dull I was
at the station when he was away. I can get on very well all day; with my
various employments--feeding the chickens, taking the big dogs out for a
walk, and so on: but after the house is quiet and silent for the night,
and the servants have gone to bed, a horrible lonely eerie feeling comes
over me; the solitude is so dreary, and the silence so intense, only
broken occasionally by the wild, melancholy cry of the weka. However, I
am very rarely tried in this way, and when I am it can't be helped, if
that is any consolation.

I forget whether I told you that we left all "evening things," and other
toilette necessaries which would not be wanted up country, behind us
in Christchurch, so as to avoid the trouble of sending any luggage
backwards or forwards. It is necessary to mention this, to account for
the very light marching order in which we travelled. It was a lovely
summer morning on which we left home, meaning to be away nearly a week,
from Monday till Saturday. We were well mounted, and all our luggage
consisted of my little travelling-bag fastened to the pommel of my
saddle, containing our brushes and combs, and what is termed a "swag" in
front of F----'s saddle; that is, a long narrow bundle, in this instance
enclosed in a neat waterproof case, and fastened with two straps to
the "D's," which are steel loops let in in four places to all colonial
saddles, for the purpose of carrying blankets, etc.; they derive their
name apparently from their resemblance to the letter. In this parcel our
most indispensable garments were tightly packed. We cantered gaily along
on the way to Christchurch, the horses appearing to enjoy the delicious
air and soft springy turf as much as we did. There was a river and
half-a-dozen creeks to be crossed; but they are all quite low at this
time of year. As we stood in one of them to let the horses drink and
cool their legs, I saw a huge eel hidden under the shadow of a high
overhanging bank, waiting till the evening to come out and feed upon the
myriads of flies and little white moths that skim over the surface of
the water.

It is considered a great advantage to our station that there is only the
river Selwyn (of which the Maori name is the Wai-kiri-kiri) between us
and town, not only for our own convenience, but because it is easy to
take sheep across it, and it offers no difficulties to the wool drays.
This river has a very good reputation, and is very rarely dangerous to
cross; whereas the Rakaia and the Rangitata towards the south, and the
Waimakiriri towards the north, of Christchurch, are most difficult, and
always liable to sudden freshes. The general mode of crossing the larger
rivers is by a boat, with the horse swimming behind; but accidents
constantly occur from the foolhardiness of people attempting to ford
them alone on horseback: they are lost in quicksands, or carried down by
the current, before they can even realize that they are in danger. The
common saying in New Zealand is, that people only die from drowning
and drunkenness. I am afraid the former is generally the result of the
latter.

From the first our road lay with our backs to the hills; but as we
cantered along the plains, I was often obliged to turn round and admire
their grand outlines. The highest ranges were still snow-white, and made
a magnificent background against the summer sky. An easy twelve miles'
ride brought us to a charming little station, called by the pretty
native name of Waireka; here lived our three bachelor hosts, and a nicer
or more comfortable home in a distant land could not be desired. The
house has been built for some years, consequently the plantations about
it and the garden have grown up well, and the willows, gum-trees, and
poplars shelter it perfectly, besides giving it such a snug home look.
It stands on a vast plain, without even an undulation of the ground near
it; but the mountains form a grand panoramic view. There is a large wide
verandah round two sides of the house, with French windows opening into
it; and I could not help feeling impatient to see my own creepers in
such luxuriant, beauty as these roses and honeysuckles were. It was half
amusing and half pathetic to notice the preparations which had been made
to receive a lady guest, and the great anxiety of my hosts to ensure
my being quite as comfortable as I am at home. Much had been said
beforehand about the necessity of making up my mind to rough it in
bachelor quarters, so I was surprised to find all sorts of luxuries in
my room, especially a dainty little toilette-table, draped with white
cloths (a big wooden packing-case was its foundation). Its ornaments
were all sorts of nondescript treasures, placed in boxes at the last
moment of leaving the English hall or rectory by careful loving hands of
mothers and sisters, and lying unused for years until now. There was
a little china tray, which had been slipped into some corner by a
child-sister anxious to send some possession of her "very own" out
to the other end of the world; there was a vase with flowers; a
parti-coloured pin-cushion of very gay silks, probably the parting
gift of an old nurse; and a curious old-fashioned essence bottle, with
eau-de-cologne; the surrounding country had been ransacked to procure a
piece of scented soap. The only thing to remind me that I was not in an
English cottage was the opossum rug with which the neat little bed was
covered. The sitting-room looked the picture of cosy comfort, with its
well-filled book-shelves, arm-chairs, sofa with another opossum rug
thrown over it, and the open fireplace filled with ferns and tufts
of the white feathery Tohi grass in front of the green background. We
enjoyed our luncheon, or rather early dinner, immensely after our ride;
and in the afternoon went out to see the nice large garden (such a
contrast to our wretched little beginnings), and finally strolled on
to the inevitable wool-shed, where the gentlemen had an animated "sheep
talk." 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 the heat of a great
argument, the long white locks are so glistening, and soft, and crinkly.

My five-o'clock tea was duly remembered, and then, as there was nothing
more to see out of doors within a short distance, I proposed that I
should make a cake. The necessary ingredients were quickly collected.
I had relays of volunteers to beat up the eggs, and though I suffered
great anxiety until it was cut at supper, it turned out satisfactorily.
The worst of my cookery is, that while I always follow the same
directions most carefully, there is great uncertainty and variety about
the result. In the evening we played round games. But we all went early
to bed, as, we had to be up betimes, and in the saddle by seven o'clock,
to catch the 9-30 train at Rolleston; twenty miles off. We had a
beautiful, still morning for our ride, and reached the station--a shed
standing out on the plain--in time to see our horses safely paddocked
before the train started for Christchurch. The distance by rail was only
fifteen miles, so we were not long about it; and we walked to the hotel
from the railway-station in the town. A bath and breakfast were both
very enjoyable, and then F---- went out to transact his business, and I
employed myself in unpacking and _ironing_ a ball-dress for a party,
to which we were engaged that evening. There was also another ball the
following night. The second was a very late one, and we had scarcely an
hour's sleep before we were obliged to get up and start by the 6 A.M.
train back to Rolleston, where we remounted our horses and rode to dear
little Waireka in time for breakfast. By the evening I was sufficiently
rested to make another cake, which also, happily, turned out well.

We intended to return home the next day (Friday), but a terrific
"nor'-wester" came on in the night, and it was impossible to stir out of
the house; it was the severest gale since our arrival, and it is hardly
possible to give you a correct idea of the force and fury of the wind.
Not a glimpse of the mountains was to be seen; a haze of dust, as thick
as any fog, shut everything out. The sheep had all taken refuge under
the high banks of the creeks. It is curious that sheep always feed head
to wind in a nor'-west gale, whereas they will drift for miles before
a sou'-wester. The trees bent almost flat before the hot breath of this
hurricane, and although the house was built of cob, and its walls were
very thick and solid, the creaking and swaying of the shingled roof kept
me in perpetual alarm. The verandah was a great protection; and yet
the small river-pebbles, of which the garden-walk was made, were dashed
against the windows like hailstones by each gust. We amused ourselves
indoors by the study and composition of acrostics, and so got through an
imprisonment of two days, without a moment's cessation of the wind;
but towards sunset on Saturday there were signs of a lull, and about
midnight the gale dropped; and we heard the grateful, refreshing sound
of soft and continuous rain, and when we came out to breakfast on
Sunday morning everything looked revived again. It is a most fortunate
meteorological fact that these very high winds are generally succeeded
by heavy rain; everything is so parched and shrivelled up by them that
I do not know what would become of the vegetation otherwise. We held a
council, to determine what had better be done about returning home, and
finally decided to risk a wet ride sooner than disappoint the little
congregation; for should it prove a fine afternoon, those who lived near
would certainly come; so we mounted after breakfast.

I was wrapped in one of the gentlemen's macintoshes, and found the ride
far from disagreeable. As we neared our own station we began to look out
for signs of disaster; and about half a mile from the house saw some of
the vanes from the chimneys on the track; a little nearer home, across
the path lay a large zinc chimney-pot; then another; and when we came
close enough to see the house distinctly, it looked very much dwarfed
without its chimneys. There had been a large pile of empty boxes at
the back of the stable; these were all blown away in the gale. One huge
packing-case was sailing tranquilly about on the pond, and planks and
fragments of zinc were strewn over the paddock. The moment we reached
the house, Mr. U----, the gentleman-cadet of whom I have told you, came
out, with a melancholy face, to tell me that a large wooden cage, full
of the canaries which I had brought from England with me, had been blown
out of the verandah, though it was on the most sheltered side of the
house. It really seemed incredible at first, but the cage was lying
in ruins in the middle of the paddock, and all my birds except one
had disappeared. It happened in the middle of the night, and Mr.
U----described, very amusingly, that when he was awakened by the noise
which the cage made against a wire fence (which it just "topped" in
passing), he sprang out of his bed in the attic, and clambered out of
the window, expecting to find the very heavy sort of staircase-ladder in
its place; but it was "over the hills and far away," so he had a drop of
about twelve feet to the ground, which thoroughly aroused him. He went
into the verandah to see if the cage was safe, and was nearly knocked
down by a big tin bath, ordinarily kept there, which was just starting
across country. As soon as he missed the cage he very pluckily went
after it, being able to keep sight of it by the fitful gleams of
moon-light, and he was just in time to rescue the poor little surviving
canary. We could not help laughing at the recital of all the mischief
which had been done, but still it is very tiresome, and the garden
looks, if possible, more wretched than ever. There is no shelter for
it yet, and my poor green-peas are blown nearly out of the ground. It
rained hard all the evening, so our congregation was confined to the
home party.




Letter XIV: A Christmas picnic, and other doings.


Broomielaw, December 1866. It is too late to wish you a merry Christmas
and a happy New Year in this letter. In order to allow them to reach you
in time I should have sent my good wishes in October's letter; I must
remember to do so next year. I am writing on the last days of the month,
so I shall be able to tell you of our own Christmas doings; though,
first, I must describe the festivities attending a "coming of age in
the Bush," to which we were invited about the middle of this month. How
strange Christmas picnics and balls will appear in your eyes, before
which still dangle probably the dear old traditional holly and ivy! I am
obliged to preface all my descriptions with an account of a ride, if
I am to begin, according to your repeated injunctions, at the very
beginning; for a ride is quite certain to be both the beginning and end
of each excursion, simply because we have no other means of going about,
except on our feet. The ride upon this occasion was to Rockwood, where
the birthday party was to assemble, but the road had not now so many
terrors for me. In consequence of the fine dry weather, most of the bad
places were safer and firmer, and the numerous creeks were only shallow
sparkling streamlets over which a child could jump, instead of the muddy
noisy wide brooks of three months ago. The day on which we started, this
time, was a great contrast to the former one. When we reached the saddle
I have before told you of, instead of being met and nearly driven back
by a violent "sutherly buster," we stopped before beginning the steep
descent to admire the exquisite view before us.

Close on our right hand rose the Government bush out of which we get our
firewood, standing grand and gloomy amid huge cliffs and crags; even
the summer sunshine could not enliven it, nor the twitter and chirrup
of countless birds. In front, the chain of hills we were crossing rolled
down in gradually decreasing hillocks, till they merged in the vast
plains before us, stretching away as far as the eye could reach towards
the south, all quivering in the haze and glare of the bright sunlight.
The background, extending along the horizon, was formed of lofty
mountains still glistening white against the dazzling blue sky. Just at
our feet the Rockwood paddocks looked like carpets of emerald velvet,
spread out among the yellowish tussocks; the fences which enclose them
were either golden with broom and gorse, or gay with wild roses and
honeysuckle. Beyond these we saw the bright patches of flowers in the
garden, and nothing could be more effective than the white gable of the
house standing out against the vast black birch forest which clothed the
steep hill-sides for miles--the contrast was so picturesque between the
little bit of civilization and culture and the great extent of wild,
savage scenery around it. After the utter treelessness of our own
immediate neighbourhood, the sight of such a mass of foliage is a joy to
my eyes.

The day following our arrival was _the_ birthday, and we prepared
to enjoy every hour of it. The party assembled was a very large one,
consisting, however, chiefly of gentlemen, for the utmost exertions in
the district could not produce more than five ladies altogether, and
two of those had come an immense way. Directly after breakfast we all
sallied forth, the ladies equipped in light cotton dresses (muslin is
too thin for the bush) and little sailor hats,--we did not want shady
ones, for never a gleam of sun can penetrate into a real New Zealand
Bush, unless in a spot which has been very much cleared. Strong boots
with nails in the soles, to help us to keep on our feet up the steep
clay hill-sides, and a stout stick, completed our equipment; perhaps
we were not very smart, but we looked like going at all events. I can
answer for myself that I enjoyed every moment of that long Midsummer
holiday most intensely, though I fear I must have wearied our dear,
charming host, by my incessant questions about the names of the trees
and shrubs, and of the habits and ways of the thousands of birds. It was
all so new and so delightful to me,--the green gloom, the hoarse croak
of the ka-ka, as it alighted almost at our feet and prepared, quite
careless of our vicinity, to tear up the loose soil at the root of a
tall tree, in search of grubs. It is a species of parrot, but with very
dingy reddish-brown plumage, only slightly enlivened by a few, scarlet
feathers in the wing. The air was gay with bright green parroquets
flitting about, very mischievous they are, I am told, taking large tithe
of the fruit, especially of the cherries. Every now and then we stood,
by common consent, silent and almost breathless to listen to the
Bell-bird, a dingy little fellow, nearly as large as a thrush with the
plumage of a chaffinch, but with such a note!--how can I make you hear
its wild, sweet, plaintive tone, as a little girl of the party said,
"just as if it had a bell in its throat;" but indeed it would require
a whole peal of silver bells to ring such an exquisite chime. Then we
crept softly up to a low branch, to have a good look at the Tui, or
Parson-bird, most respectable and clerical-looking in its glossy black
suit, with a singularly trim and dapper air, and white wattles of very
slender feathers--indeed they are as fine as hair-curled coquettishly
at each side of his throat, exactly like bands. All the birds were
quite tame, and, instead of avoiding us, seemed inclined to examine
us minutely. Many of them have English names, which I found very
tantalising, especially when, the New Zealand Robin was announced, and
I could only see a fat little ball of a bird, with a yellowish-white
breast. Animals there are none. No quadruped is indigenous to New
Zealand, except a rat; but then, on the other hand, we are as free from
snakes and all vermin as if St. Patrick himself had lived here. Our host
has turned several pheasants into this forest, but they increase very
slowly on account of the wekas. However, the happiness of this morning
was made complete by our putting up two splendid rocketers.

We could only make our way by the paths which have been cut through
the Bush; a yard off the track it is impossible to stir for the dense
undergrowth. In the ravines and steep gullies formed by the creeks
grow masses of ferns of all sorts, spreading like large shrubs, and
contrasting by their light bright green with the black stems of the
birch-trees around them. There are a few pines in this bush, but not
many. I can give you no idea of the variety among the shrubs:
the koromika, like an Alpine rose, a compact ball of foliage; the
lance-wood, a tall, slender stem, straight as a line, with a few long
leaves at the top, turned downwards like the barb of a spear, and
looking exactly like a lance stuck into the ground; the varieties of
matapo, a beautiful shrub, each leaf a study, with its delicate tracery
of black veins on a yellow-green ground; the mappo, the gohi, and many
others, any of which would be the glory of an English shrubbery: but
they seem to require the deep shelter of their native Bush, for they
never flourish when transplanted. I noticed the slender the large trees
have of the ground, and it is not at all surprising, after such a gale
as we had three weeks ago, to see many of the finest blown down in the
clearings where the wind could reach them. They do not seem to have any
tap-root at all, merely a very insufficient network of fibres, seldom of
any size, which spreads a short way along the surface of the ground
As long as a Bush is undisturbed by civilization, it appears to be
impervious to wind or weather; but as soon as it is opened and cleared
a little, it begins to diminish rapidly. There are traces all over the
hills of vast forests having once existed; chiefly of totara, a sort
of red pine, and those about us are scattered with huge logs of this
valuable wood, all bearing traces of the action of fire; but shepherds,
and explorers on expeditions, looking for country, have gradually
consumed them for fuel, till not many pieces remain except on the
highest and most inaccessible ranges.

It was a delightful, and by no means unacceptable surprise which awaited
us on the other side, when, on emerging from a very thick part of the
Bush, we came on a lovely spot, a true "meeting of the waters." Three
broad, bright creeks came rushing and tumbling down from the densely
wooded hills about to join and flow on in quite a good-sized river, amid
boulders and a great deal of hurry and fuss,--a contrast to the profound
quiet of our ramble hitherto, the silence of which was only broken by
the twitter and whistle of the birds. Never a song can you hear, only a
sweet chirrup, or two or three melodious notes. On the opposite bank of
the river there was the welcome sight of several hampers more or less
unpacked, and the gleam of a white tablecloth on the moss. Half-a-dozen
gentlemen had formed themselves into a commissariat, and were arranging
luncheon. We could see the champagne cooling in a sort of little bay,
protected by a dam of big stones from being carried down the stream. It
all looked very charming and inviting, but the next question was how
to get across the river to these good things. Twelve or fourteen feet
separated us, hungry and tired wanderers as we were, from food and rest;
the only crossing-place was some miles lower down, near the house in
fact; so even the most timid amongst us scouted the idea of retracing
our steps. The only alternative was to make a bridge: one of the
gentlemen who were with us carried an axe in case of emergency, and in a
moment we heard the sharp ringing sounds foretelling the fall of a tree.
In the mean-time, others of the party were dragging out fallen logs--of
course small and manageable ones--and laying them from one huge boulder
to another, working up to their knees in water. So many of these
prostrate trunks were "convenient," that a cry soon arose to the
woodman to "spare the trees," for there were quite enough on the ground.
However, two substantial poles had been felled, and these were laid over
the deepest and most dangerous part of the current. The bridge was soon
declared passable, and loud shouts from the opposite side proclaimed
that luncheon was quite ready. I was called, as having a most undeserved
reputation for "pluck," to make trial of the aerial-looking fabric. I
did not like it at all, and entreated some one else to lead the forlorn
hope; so a very quiet young lady, who really possessed more courage in
her little finger than I do in my whole body, volunteered to go first.
The effect from the bank was something like tight-rope dancing, and it
was very difficult to keep one's balance. Miss Kate, our pioneer, walked
on very steadily, amid great applause, till she reached the middle of
the stream, where fortunately the water was shallow, but strewed with
masses of boulders. She paused an instant on the large rock on which the
ends of the saplings rested, and then started afresh for the last half
of her journey. The instant she put her foot on the second part of the
bridge, it gave way with a loud crash; and the poor 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 an instant,
but the difficulty was to regain any sort of footing. She could not drop
into the water, and there was apparently no way of dragging herself
up again; but one of the gentlemen crept on hands and knees along the
unbroken part of the bridge, and eventually helped her up the sides
of the large boulder which acted as a pier, and from which the log had
slipped. From the other side they now pushed across tall, slim trees,
freshly cut, and the rest of the passage was safe enough. I did not like
the mode of transit at all, though I got over without a slip, but it
requires a steady head to cross a noisy stream on two slippery round
poles--for really the trees were little thicker--laid side by side,
bending with every step. It was a great comfort to me all luncheon-time
to know that we were not to return by the same path through the Bush. We
had a good rest after lunch: I lay back on a bed of fern, watching the
numbers of little birds around us; they boldly picked up our crumbs,
without a thought of possible danger. Presently I felt a tug at the
shawl on which I was lying: I was too lazy and dreamy to turn my head,
so the next thing was a sharp dig on my arm, which hurt me dreadfully. I
looked round, and there was a weka bent on thoroughly investigating the
intruder into its domain. The bird looked so cool and unconcerned, that
I had not the heart to follow my first impulse and throw my stick at it;
but my forbearance was presently rewarded by a stab on the ankle,
which fairly made me jump up with a scream, when my persecutor
glided gracefully away among the bushes, leaving me, like Lord Ullin,
"lamenting."

We sauntered home slowly, gathering armfuls of, fern and a large variety
of a stag's-head moss so common on the west coast of Scotland; and as
soon as we had had some tea, the gentlemen went off with their towels to
bathe in the creek, and the five ladies set to work at the decorations
for the ball-room, weaving wreaths and arranging enormous bouquets very
rapidly: we had such a wealth of flowers to work with that our task was
not difficult. The most amusing part of the story is, however, that the
ball took place in my bed-room! A very pompous lady of my acquaintance
always prefaces the slenderest anecdote with these words, "And it
happened in this wise," so I think I shall avail myself of the _tour de
phrase_.

It happened in this wise, then:-a large well-proportioned room had been
added to the house lately; it was intended for a drawing-room, but
for some reason has only been used as a spare bed-room, but as it
may possibly return to its original destination, very little bed-room
furniture has been put in it, and many of its belongings are appropriate
to a sitting-room. We called in the servants, the light cane bedstead
was soon deposited under the shade of a tree in the garden, the
washing-stand was similarly disposed of, and an hour's work with hammer
and nails and a ball of string turned the room into a perfect bower of
ferns and flowers: great ingenuity was displayed in the arrangement of
lights, and the result was a very pretty ball-room.

We are always eating in this country, so you will not be surprised
to hear that there was yet another meal to be disposed of before we
separated to dress in all sorts of nooks and corners. White muslin was
the universal costume, as it can be packed flat and smooth. My gown
had been carried over by F---- in front of his saddle in a very small
parcel: I covered it almost entirely with sprays of the light-green
stag's-head, moss, and made a wreath of it also for my hair. I think
that with the other ladies roses were the most popular decoration, and
they looked very fresh and nice. I was the universal _coiffeuse_, and I
dressed all the girls' heads with flowers, as I was supposed to be best
up in the latest fashions. In the meantime, the piano had been moved to
the bay-window of the ball-room, and at ten o'clock dancing commenced,
and may be truly said to have been kept up with great spirit until four
o'clock: it only ceased then on account of the state of exhaustion of
the unfortunate five ladies, who had been nearly killed with incessant
dancing. I threw a shawl over my head, and sauntered alone up one of the
many paths close to the house which led into the Bush. Tired as I was,
I shall never forget the beauty and romance of that hour,--the delicious
crisp _new_ feeling of the morning air; the very roses, growing like a
red fringe on the skirts of the great Bush, seemed awaking to fresh life
and perfume; the numbers of gay lizards and flies coming out for their
morning meal, and, above all, the first awakening of the myriads of
Bush-birds; every conceivable twitter and chatter and chirrup; the last
cry of a very pretty little owl, called, from its distinctly uttered
words, the "More-pork," as it flitted away before the dawn to the
highest trees: all made up a jubilant uproar compared to which one of
the Crystal Palace choruses is silence. I sat down on a fallen tree, and
listened and waited: every moment added to the lovely dawn around me,
and I enjoyed to the full the fragrant smells and joyous sounds of
another day in this fresh young land.

All too soon came a loud "coo-ee" from the house, which I allowed them
to repeat before I answered; this was to tell 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 looked like a fairy bower,
the flowers still unfaded. We had another picnic the next day up the
gorge of a river, amid very wild and beautiful scenery; but everything
had been arranged so as to make the expedition an easy one, out of
consideration to the weary five. The day after this we rode home again,
and I had to set to work directly to prepare for my own Christmas party
to the shepherds and shearers,--for we have just commenced to muster
the sheep, and the shearing will be in full force by Christmas Day.
One great object I have in view in giving this party is to prevent the
shearers from going over to the nearest accommodation-house and getting
tipsy, as they otherwise would; so I have taken care to issue my
invitations early. I found great difficulty in persuading some of the
men to accept, as they had not brought any tidy clothes with them; and
as the others would be decently, indeed well dressed, they did not like
putting in a shabby appearance. This difficulty was obviated by F----
hunting up some of the things he had worn on the voyage, and rigging-out
the invited guests. For two days before the great day I had been working
hard, studying recipes for pies and puddings, and scouring the country
in search of delicacies. Every lady was most kind, knowing that our
poor, exposed garden was backward; I had sacks of green peas, bushels of
young potatoes, and baskets of strawberries and cherries sent to me from
all round the country; I made poor F---- ride twenty miles to get me a
sirloin of beef, and, to my great joy, two beautiful young geese arrived
as a present only the day before. It is a point of honour to have as
little mutton as possible on these occasions, as the great treat is
the complete change of fare. I only ventured to introduce it very much
disguised as curry, or in pies. We were all up at daylight on Christmas
morning, and off to the nearest little copse in one of the gullies,
where a few shrubs and small trees and ferns grow, to gather boughs for
the decoration of the washhouse. Marvels were done in the carpentering
line to arrange tables around its walls. The copper, which at first
presented such an obstacle to the symmetry of the adornments, became
their chief glory; it was boarded over, its sides completely hidden by
flags and ferns, and the dessert placed on it peeped out from a bower of
greenery. I don't know how we got our own breakfast; from eleven o'clock
there was the constant announcement "A horseman coming up the flat;"
and by twelve, when I as beadle announced that all was ready, a large
congregation of thirty-six came trooping into my little drawing-room. As
soon as it was filled the others clustered round the door; but all
could hear, I think. F---- began the service; and as the notes of the
Christmas Anthem swelled up, I found the tears trembling in my eyes. My
overwhelming thought was that it actually was the very first time those
words had ever been sung or said in that valley--you in England can
hardly realize the immensity of such a thought--"the first time since
the world was made." I think the next sensation was one of extreme
happiness; it seemed such a privilege to be allowed to hold the initial
Christmas service. I had to grasp this idea very tight to keep down the
terrible home-sickness which I felt all day for almost the first time.
There are moments when no advantages or privileges can repress what
Aytoun calls "the deep, unutterable woe which none save exiles feel."

The service only lasted half an hour, beginning and ending with a hymn;
there were three women present besides me--my two servants, and the nice
young wife of a neighbouring shepherd. It was a sultry day, not a breath
of air; but still it is never oppressive at this elevation. We wound up
a big musical-box, set it going in the banqueting-hall (late washhouse),
and marshalled the guests in they were extremely shy as a rule, and so
we soon went away and left them to themselves. They ate incessantly
for two hours--and I hope they enjoyed themselves; then the men lounged
about the stables and smoked, and the three women cleared away a little.
F---- and our gentlemen guests got up athletic sports in the shade which
seemed very popular, though it appeared a great deal of trouble to take
on such a hot day. As the sun sank below the hills it grew much cooler,
and my two maids came with a shamefaced request to be allowed to dance
in the kitchen. I inquired about the music?--that was provided for by
a fiddle and some pipes; so I consented, but I found they wanted me
to start them. I selected as my partner a very decent young farmer who
lives near, but has left his farm and is at work branding our sheep all
shearing-time. The pride and delight of his mate was much greater than
my partner's; he stood near his friend, prompting him through the
mazes of the most extraordinary quadrille you ever saw, with two extra
figures. Then there was an endless polka, in which everybody danced,
like Queen Elizabeth, "high and disposedly;" but the ball ended at nine
o'clock, and we were given some cold dinner, for which we were all very
ready. The next morning saw the remains of the festivity cleared away,
and every one hard at work again; for this is our very busiest season.
The work of the station, however, is carried on at the homestead two
miles off. F---- is there all day long, but I see nothing of it. While
the shearers' hearts were tender, I asked them to come over to church on
Sunday, and they have promised to do so: I lend them quantities of
books and papers also, so as to keep them amused and away from the
accommodation-house.




Letter XV: Everyday station life.


Broomielaw, January 1867. You tell me to describe our daily home-life
and domestic surroundings. I dare say it: will appear to be a monotonous
and insignificant existence enough when put on paper, but it suits me
exactly; and, for the first time in my life, I have enough to do, and
also the satisfaction of feeling that I am of some little use to my
fellow-creatures. A lady's influence out here appears to be very great,
and capable of indefinite expansion. She represents refinement and
culture (in Mr. Arnold's sense of the words), and her footsteps on a new
soil such as this should be marked by a trail of light. Of course every
improvement must be the work of time, but I find my neighbours very
willing to help me in my attempts.

A few lines will be sufficient to sketch a day's routine. The first of
my duties is one I especially delight in. I am out very early with a
large tin dish of scraps mixed with a few handfuls of wheat, and my
appearance is the signal for a great commotion among all my fowls
and ducks and pigeons. Such waddling and flying and running with
outstretched wings to me: in fact, I receive a morning greeting from
all the live-stock about the place. I am nearly knocked down by the big
sheep-dogs; the calves come rushing with awkward gambols towards me for
a bit of the fowls' bread, whilst the dogs look out for a bone; but,
in the midst of the confusion, the poultry hold their own; indeed, an
anxious hen eager to secure a breakfast for her chicks will fly at a
big dog, and beat him away from a savoury morsel. I think I ought not to
omit mentioning the devotion of a small pig; it is an exact illustration
of the French proverb which speaks of the inequality of love, for I am
quite passive and do not respond in the least to the little beastie's
affection, which is the most absurd thing you ever saw, especially as
it proceeds from so unromantic an animal. Late in the spring (that is to
say, about November last) we were all returning from a great pig-hunting
expedition, when I saw one of the party coming down a steep hill near
the house with a small and glossy-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 a bottle. We laughed at him very much; but
when he went away he begged so earnestly that the pigs should be reared
that we promised to keep them. In a few 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 the house (but _that_ I really
could not stand), accompanying me in all my walks, and, as far as it
could, in my rides. Many a time have I seen poor little piggy carried
down a creek by the current, squealing piteously, but it was evidently a
case of "many waters cannot quench love," for a little further on piggy
would appear, very much baked, but holding out gallantly, till sheer
exhaustion compelled him to give in, when he would lie down under a
tussock, apparently dying; but, as we were coming home in the dusk,
Helen, my pretty bay mare, has given many a shy at piggy starting up
from his shelter with gambols and squeals of joy.

It is always a great temptation to loiter about in the lovely fresh
morning air, but I have to be dressed in time for prayers and breakfast
at nine; directly after breakfast I go into the kitchen; sometimes, it
is only necessary to give orders or instructions, but generally I find
that practice is much better than precept, and I see to the soup myself,
and make the pudding--the joint can take care of itself.

You have often asked me what we have to eat, so this will be a good
opportunity of introducing our daily bill of fare, prefacing it with my
recorded opinion that here is no place in the world where you can live
so cheaply and so well as on a New Zealand sheep station, when once you
get a start. Of course, it is expensive at first, setting everything
going, but that would be the case in any country. I will begin at the
very beginning:--Porridge for breakfast, with new milk and cream _a
discretion_; to follow--mutton chops, mutton ham, or mutton curry,
or broiled mutton and mushrooms, not shabby little fragments of meat
broiled, but beautiful tender steaks off a leg; tea or coffee, and bread
and butter, with as many new-laid eggs as we choose to consume. Then,
for dinner, at half-past one, we have soup, a joint, vegetables, and a
pudding; in summer, we have fresh fruit stewed, instead of a pudding,
with whipped cream. I was a proud and happy woman the first day my cream
remained cream, and did not turn into butter; for generally my zeal
outran my discretion, and I did not know when to leave off whipping. We
have supper about seven; but this is a moveable feast, consisting of tea
again, mutton cooked in some form of entree, eggs, bread and butter, and
a cake of my manufacture. I must, however, acknowledge, that at almost
every other station you would get more dainties, such as jam and
preserves of all 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 into full bearing, and our other resources
are still quite undeveloped.

However, I have wandered away terribly from my first intention of
telling you of the daily occupations to a description of our daily food.
After I have finished all my little fussings about the house, I join
F---- who has probably been for some time quietly settled down at his
writing-table, and we work together at books and writing till dinner;
after that meal, F---- like Mr. Tootes, "resumes his studies," but I
go and feed my fowls again, and if I am very idly disposed I sit on a
hencoop in the shade and watch the various tempers of my chickens and
ducklings. A little later F---- and I go out for some hours: if it is
not too hot, he takes his rifle and we go over the hills pig-stalking,
but this is really only suitable exercise for a fine winter's day;
at this time of year we either go for a walk or a ride, generally the
latter--not a little shabby canter, but a long stretching gallop for
miles and miles; perhaps stopping to have a cup of tea with a neighbour
twelve or fifteen miles off, and then coming slowly home in the
delicious gloaming, with the peculiar fresh crisp feeling which the
atmosphere always has here the moment the sun sets, no matter how hot
the day has been. I can hardly hope to make you understand how enjoyable
our twilight hours are, with no fear of damp or malaria to spoil them;
every turn of the track as we slowly wind up the valley showing us some
beautiful glimpse 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, after crossing a low range of hills,
we suddenly dropped down on what would be called in England a hamlet,
but here it is designated by the extraordinary name of a "nest of
cockatoos." This expression puzzled me so much when I first heard
it, that I must give you as minute an explanation as I myself found
necessary to the comprehension of the subject.

When a shepherd has saved a hundred pounds, or the better class of
immigrant arrives with a little capital, the favourite investment is in
freehold land, which they can purchase, in sections of twenty acres and
upwards, at 2 pounds the acre. The next step is to build a sod but with
two rooms on their property, thatching it with Tohi, or swamp grass;
a door and a couple of window-frames all ready glazed are brought from
Christchurch in the dray with the family and the household goods. After
this rough and ready shelter is provided, the father and sons begin
fencing their land and gradually it all assumes a cultivated appearance.
Pig-sties and fowl-houses are added; a little garden, gay with common
English flowers, is made in front of the house, whose ugly walls are
gradually hidden by creepers, and the homestead looks both picturesque
and prosperous. These small farmers are called Cockatoos in Australia by
the squatters or sheep-farmers, who dislike them for buying up the best
bits of land on their runs; and say that, like a cockatoo, the small
freeholder alights on good ground, extracts all he can from it, and then
flies away to "fresh fields and pastures new." But the real fact is,
that the poor farmer perhaps finds his section is too far from a market,
so he is forced to abandon it and move nearer a town, where the best
and most productive land has been bought up already; and he has to begin
again at a disadvantage. However, whether the name is just or not, it
is a recognized one here; and I have heard a man say in answer to a
question about his usual occupation, "I'm a Cockatoo."

This particular "nest" appeared to me very well off, comparatively
speaking; for though the men complained sadly of the low price of their
wheat and oats, still there was nothing like poverty to be seen. Ready
money was doubtless scarce, and an extensive system of barter appeared
to prevail; but still they all looked well fed and well clothed;
sickness was unknown among them, and it did one's heart good to see the
children--such sturdy limbs, bright fearless eyes, and glowing faces.
They have abundance of excellent food. Each cottager has one or two
cows, and the little ones take these out to pasture on the hills,
so they are in the open air nearly all day: but their ignorance is
appalling! Many of them had never even been christened; there was no
school or church within thirty miles or more, and although the parents
seemed all tidy, decent people, and deplored the state of things, they
were powerless to help it. The father and elder sons work hard all day;
the mother has to do everything, even to making the candles, for the
family; there is no time or possibility of teaching the children. The
neighbouring squatters do not like to encourage settlers to buy up their
land, therefore they carefully avoid making things pleasant for a
new "nest," and the Cockatoos are "nobody's business;" so, as far as
educational advantages go, they are perfectly destitute.

When I mentioned my discovery of this hamlet, and my dismay at the
state of neglect in which so many fine intelligent-looking children
were growing up, every one warned me not to interfere, assuring me the
Cockatoo was a very independent bird, that he considered he had left all
the Ladies Bountiful and blanket and coal charities behind him in the
old country; that, in short, as it is generally put, "Jack is as good
as his master" out here, and any attempt at patronage would be deeply
resented. But I determined to try the effect of a little visiting among
the cottages, and was most agreeably surprised at the kind and cordial
welcome I received. The women liked to have some one to chat to about
their domestic affairs, and were most hospitable in offers of tea, etc.,
and everywhere invitations to "come again" were given; so the next week
I ventured to invite the men over to our Sunday services. Those who were
fond of reading eagerly accepted the offer to join the book-club, and at
last we started the educational subject. Many plans were discussed,
and finally we arranged for one woman, who had received an excellent
education and was quite fitted for the post, to commence a day-school;
but this entailed so much loss of her valuable time that the terms she
is obliged to ask seem disproportionately high to the people's means.
She wants 2 shillings and 6 pence a week with each child, and this is
terrible heavy on the head of a family who is anxious and willing to
give them some "schooling." However, the plan is to be tried, and I have
promised to start them with books, slates, copybooks, etc. It was quite
touching to hear their earnest entreaties that F---- would come over on
Sunday sometimes and hold a service there, but I tried to show them this
could not be managed. The tears actually came into their eyes when I
talked of the happiness it would be to see a little church and school in
their midst; 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 I have often
heard it said, that if you propose one definite object to yourself as
the serious purpose of your life, you will accomplish it some day.
Well, the purpose of my life henceforward is to raise money somehow or
somewhere to build a little wooden school-room (licensed for service, to
be held whenever a missionary clergyman comes by), and to pay the salary
of a schoolmaster and mistress, so that the poor Cockatoo need not
be charged more than threepence a week for each child. The Board of
Education will give a third of the sum required, when two-thirds have
been already raised; but it is difficult to collect subscriptions, or
indeed to induce the squatters to listen to any plan for improving the
condition of the small farmers, and every year which slips away and
leaves these swarms of children in ignorance adds to the difficulty of
training them. [Note: Since this was written, a school-house, also used
as a church, has been built in this district by private subscription
and Government aid. A clergyman, who lives some twenty-five miles away,
rides over and holds service once a month.]




Letter XVI: A sailing excursion on Lake Coleridge.


Lake Coleridge, February 1867. A violent storm of wind and rain from the
south-west keeps us all indoors to-day, and gives me time to write
my letter for the Panama mail, which will be made up to-morrow. The
post-office is ten miles off, and rejoices in the appropriate name of
"Wind-whistle;" it stands at the mouth of a deep mountain gorge, and
there never was such a temple of the winds.

This bad weather comes after a long spell of lovely bright summer days,
and is very welcome to fill up the failing creeks in the lower ranges
of hills. I must tell you how much we have been enjoying our visit here.
F---- knows this part of the country well, but it is quite new to me,
and a great contrast to the other scenery I have described to you We had
long talked of paying Mr. C. H---- a visit at his bachelor cottage on
his station far back among the high ranges of hills, but no time was
fixed, so I was rather taken by surprise when last week he drove up to
Broomielaw in a light American waggon with a pair of stout horses, and
announced that he had come to take us to his place next day. There was
no reason against this plan, and we agreed at once; the next morning
saw us on the road, after an early breakfast. We had to drive about
thirty-five miles round, whereas it would have been only twenty miles
riding across the hills; but our kind host thought that it would be much
more comfortable for me to be able to take a carpet-bag in the carriage
instead of the usual system of saddle-bags one is obliged to adopt
travelling on horseback. We made our first stage at the ever-hospitable
station of the C----'s, on the Horarata, but we could not remain to
luncheon, as they wished, having to push on further; and, as it turned
out, it was most fortunate we took advantage of the first part of the
day to get over the ground between us and our destination, for the
gentle breeze which had been blowing since we started gradually
freshened into a tremendous "nor'-wester," right in our teeth all the
rest of our way. The poor horses bent their heads as low as possible
and pulled bravely at their collars, up hill the whole time. Among the
mountains the wind rushed with redoubled fury down the narrow gorges,
and became icily cold as we neared the snowy ranges. It was impossible
to see the hills for the thick mist, though I knew we must have a
magnificent view before us. We took refuge for an hour just to rest the
horses, at Windwhistle, and I certainly expected the house to come down
whilst we were there. I can hardly tell you anything of the rest of the
drive, for I was really frightened at my first experience of a "howling
nor'-wester" out of doors, and Mr. H---- made me sit down at the bottom
of the carriage and heaped over me all the cloaks and shawls we had
brought. It was delightful to find ourselves under shelter at last in
a pretty bright snug room, with lots of books and arm-chairs, and a
blazing fire; _this_, you must remember, in midsummer.

The next morning was perfectly calm, and the lake as serene as if no
storm had been dashing its water in huge breakers against the beach
only a few hours before. The view from the sitting-room was lovely: just
beneath the window there was a little lawn, as green as possible from
the spray with which the lake had washed it yesterday; beyond this a low
hedge, an open meadow, a fringe of white pebbly beach, and then a wide
expanse of water within one little wooded island, and shut in gradually
from our view by spurs of hills running down to the shore, sometimes in
bold steep cliffs, and again in gentle declivities, with little strips
of bush or scrub growing in the steep gullies between them. The lake
extends some way beyond where we lose sight of it, being twelve miles
long and four miles broad. A few yards from the beach it is over six
hundred feet deep. Nothing but a painting could give you any idea of the
blue of sky and water that morning; the violent wind of yesterday seemed
to have blown every cloud below the horizon, for I could not see the
least white film anywhere. Behind the lower hills which surround the
lake rises a splendid snowy range; altogether, you cannot imagine a more
enchanting prospect than the one I stood and looked at; it made me think
of Miss Procter's lines--

               "My eyes grow dim,
          As still I gaze and gaze
     Upon that mountain pass,
          That leads--or so it seems--     To some far happy land
          Known in a world of dreams."

All this time, whilst I was looking out of the window in most unusual
idleness, Mr. H---- and F---- were making constant journeys between the
boat-house and the store-room, and at last I was entreated to go and put
on my hat. While doing this I heard cupboards being opened, and a great
bustle; so when I reached the shore I was not so much surprised as they
expected, to see in the pretty little sailing-boat (which was moored to
a primitive sort of jetty made out of a broken old punt) the materials
for at least two substantial meals, in case of being kept out by a
sudden head-wind. I was especially glad to notice a little kettle among
the _impedimenta_, and there were cloaks and wraps of all kinds to
provide against the worst. Four gentlemen and I made up the crew and
passengers, and a very merry set we were, behaving extremely like
children out for a holiday. The wind was a trifle light for sailing, so
the gentlemen pulled, but very lazily and not at all in good "form,"
as the object of each oarsman seemed to be to do as little work as
possible. However, we got on somehow, a light puff helping us now and
then, but our progress was hardly perceptible. I had been for a long
time gazing down into the clear blue depth of water, every now and then
seeing a flash of the white sand shining at the bottom, when I was half
startled by our host standing suddenly up in the bow of the boat;
and then I found that we were a couple of miles away from our
starting-point, and that we had turned a corner formed by a steep spur,
and were running right into what appeared a grove of rata-trees growing
at the water's edge. The rata only grows in the hills and near water; it
is a species of broad-leaf myrtle, with a flower exactly like a myrtle
in character, but of a brilliant deep scarlet colour, and twice as
large.

When the bowsprit touched the rata-branches, which drooped like a
curtain into the water, Mr. H---- made a signal to lower the mast, and
parting the thick, blossom-covered foliage before us, with both hands,
the way the boat had on her sent us gently through the screen of scarlet
flowers and glossy green leaves into such a lovely fairy cove! Before us
was a little white beach of fine sparkling sand, against which the water
broke in tiny wavelets, and all around a perfect bower of every variety
of fern and moss, kept green by streams no thicker than a silver thread
trickling down here and there with a subdued tinkling sound. We all
sat quite silent, the boat kept back just inside the entrance by the
steersman holding on to a branch. It was a sudden contrast from the
sparkling sunshine and brightness outside, all life and colour and
warmth, to the tender, green, profound shade and quiet in this "Mossy
Hum," as the people about here call it. Do not fancy anything damp or
chilly. No; it was like a natural temple--perfect repose and refreshment
to the eyes dazzled with the brilliant outside colouring. Centuries ago
there must have been a great landslip here, for the side of the mountain
is quite hollowed out, and Nature has gradually covered the ugly brown
rent with the thickest tapestry of her most delicate handiwork. I
noticed two varieties of the maiden-hair, its slender black stem making
the most exquisite tracery among the vivid greens. There was no tint
of colour except green when once we passed the red-fringed curtain of
rata-branches, only the white and shining fairy beach and the gleaming
threads of water. As we sat there, perfectly still, and entranced,
a sort of delicious mesmeric feeling stole over me; I thought of the
lotus-eater's chant, "There is no joy but calm," with, for, the first
time in my life, a dim perception of what they meant, perhaps; but
it was over all too quickly: prosaic words of direction to back water
called us from shade to light, and in a moment more we were in front of
the rata-trees, admiring their splendid colouring, and our little boat
was dancing away over the bright waves, with her white wings set and her
bows pointed towards the little toy island in the middle of the lake; it
was no question now of rowing, a nice fresh breeze from the south (the
_cold_ point here) sent us swiftly and steadily through the water. What
a morning it was! The air was positively intoxicating, making you feel
that the mere fact of being a living creature with lungs to inhale such
an atmosphere was a great boon. We have a good deal of disagreeable
weather, and a small proportion of bad weather, but in no other part of
the world, I believe, does Nature so thoroughly understand how to make a
fine day as in New Zealand.

A little after mid-day we ran our boat to the lee of the island, and:
whilst she was steadied by the same primitive method of holding on to
branches of manuka and other scrub, I scrambled out and up a little
cliff, where a goat could hardly have found footing, till I reached
a spot big enough to stand on, from whence I anxiously watched the
disembarkation of some of the provisions, and of the gridiron and
kettle. In a few moments we were all safely ashore, and busy collecting
dry fern and brushwood for a fire; it was rather a trial of patience to
wait till the great blaze had subsided before we attempted to cook our
chops, which were all neatly prepared ready for us. Some large potatoes
were put to bake in the ashes; the tin plates were warmed (it is a great
art not to overheat them when you have to keep them on your lap whilst
you eat your chop). We were all so terribly hungry that we were obliged
to have a course of bread and cheese and sardines _first_; it was really
quite impossible to wait patiently for the chops. The officiating cook
scolded us well for our Vandalism, and the next moment we detected him
in the act of devouring a half-raw potato. The fragments of our meal
must have been a great boon to the colony of wekas who inhabit the
island, for as they increase and multiply prodigiously their provisions
must often fall short in so small a space. No one can imagine how these
birds originally came here, for the island is at least two miles from
the nearest point of land; they can neither swim nor fly; and as every
man's hand is against them, no one would have thought it worth while
to bring them over: but here they are, in spite of all the apparent
impossibilities attending their arrival, more tame and impudent than
ever. It was dangerous to leave your bread unwatched for an instant, and
indeed I saw one gliding off with an empty sardine tin in its beak;
I wonder how it liked oil and little scales. They considered a cork a
great prize, and carried several off triumphantly.

After luncheon there was the usual interval of rest, and pipes on the
part of the gentlemen. I explored a little, but there is nothing very
pretty or abundant in the way of wild flowers in the parts of New
Zealand which I have seen. White violets and a ground clematis are the
only ones I have come across in any quantity. The manuka, a sort of
scrub, has a pretty blossom like a diminutive Michaelmas daisy, white
petals and a brown centre, with a very aromatic odour; and this little
flower is succeeded by a berry with the same strong smell and taste of
spice. The shepherds sometimes make an infusion of these when they
are very hard-up for tea; but it must be like drinking a decoction of
cloves.

About three o'clock we re-embarked, and sailed a little higher up the
lake beyond the point where we lose sight of it from Mr. H----'s house,
every moment opening out fresh and more beautiful glimpses. Quite the
opposite end of the shore is fringed with a thick deep forest, and
another station has been built there, at which, I am told, the scenery
is still more magnificent. At first I was inclined to wonder where the
sheep live amid all this picturesque but mountainous country: however,
I find that between and among these hills stretch immense valleys (or
"flats," as they are called here), which are warm and sheltered in
winter, and afford plenty of food for them; then, in summer, they go up
to the mountains: but it is very difficult to "muster" these ranges. I
am almost ashamed to confess to another meal before we returned home,
but there was a lovely tempting spot in a little harbour, and so we
landed and boiled some water and had a capital cup of tea. You require
to be out as we were from morning till night in such an air as this to
know what it is to feel either hungry or sleepy in perfection! The next
day we made a similar excursion, exploring the opposite shore of the
lake; but, before we started, our host distrusted the appearance of
certain clouds, and sent round horses to meet us at the point where
we were going to lunch; and it was 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 of re-embarking, having first
secured the boat, and cantered home. We passed several smaller lakes;
there is a perfect chain of them among these hills, and I was much
amused at the names bestowed on them, according to the tastes or caprice
of the station-owners whose runs happen to include them: for instance,
two are called respectively "Geraldine" and "Ida," whilst three, which
lie close together, rejoice in the somewhat extraordinary names of "the
World," "the Flesh," and "the Devil."




Letter XVII: My first and last experience of "camping out."


Broomielaw, April 1867. I have nothing to tell you this mail, except
of a rather ridiculous expedition which we made last week, and which
involved our spending the whole night on the top of the highest hill on
our run. You will probably wonder what put such an idea into our heads,
so I must preface my account by a little explanation. Whenever I meet
any people who came here in the very early days of the colony--only
sixteen years ago, after all!--I delight in persuading them to tell me
about their adventures and hardships during those primitive times, and
these narratives have the greatest fascination for me, as they always
end happily. No one ever seems to have died of his miseries, or even
to have suffered seriously in any way from them, so I find the greatest
delight in listening to the stories of the Pilgrims. I envy them
dreadfully for having gone through so much with such spirit and
cheerfulness, and ever since I came here I have regretted that the rapid
advance of civilization in New Zealand precludes the possibility of
being really uncomfortable; this makes me feel like an impostor, for I
am convinced that my English friends think of me with the deepest pity,
as of one cut off from the refinements and comforts of life, whereas I
really am surrounded by every necessary, and many of its luxuries, and
there is no reason but that of expense why one should not have all of
these.

One class of narratives is peculiarly attractive to me. I like to hear
of benighted or belated travellers when they have had to "camp out,"
as it is technically called; and have lived in constant hope of meeting
with an adventure which would give me a similar experience. But I am
gradually becoming convinced that this is almost impossible by fair
means, so I have been trying for some time past to excite in the breasts
of our home party and of our nearest neighbours an ardent desire to see
the sun rise from the top of "Flagpole," a hill 3,000 feet above the
level of the sea, and only a: couple of miles from the house. As soon
as they were sufficiently enthusiastic on the subject, I broached my
favourite project of our all going up there over-night, and camping
out on the highest peak. Strange to say, the plan did not meet with any
opposition, even from F----, who has had to camp out many a winter's
night, and with whom, therefore, the novelty may be said to have worn
off. Two gentlemen of the proposed party were "new chums" like myself,
and were strongly in favour of a little roughing; new-chums always are,
I observe. F---- hesitated a little about giving a final consent on
the score of its being rather too late in the year, and talked of a
postponement till next summer, but we would not listen to such an idea;
so he ended by entering so heartily into it, that when at last the
happy day and hour came, an untoward shower had not the least effect in
discouraging him.

There was a great bustle about the little homestead on that eventful
Tuesday afternoon. Two very steady old horses were saddled, one for me
and the other for one of the "new chums," who was not supposed to be
in good form for a long walk, owing to a weak knee. Everything which we
thought we could possibly want was heaped on and around us after we
had mounted; the rest of the gentlemen, four in number, walked, and
we reached the first stage of our expedition in about an hour. Here we
dismounted, as the horses could go no further in safety. The first
thing done was to see to their comfort and security; the saddles were
carefully deposited under a large flax-bush in case of rain, and the
long tether ropes were arranged so as to ensure plenty of good feed and
water for both horses, without the possibility of the ropes becoming
entangled in each other or in anything else. Then came a time of great
excitement and laughing and talking, for all the "swags" had to be
packed and apportioned for the very long and steep ascent before us.

And now I must tell you exactly what we took up. A pair of large double
blankets to make the tent of,--that was one swag, and a very unwieldy
one it was, strapped knapsack fashion, with straps of flax-leaves, on
the back, and the bearer's coat and waistcoat fastened on the top of the
whole. The next load consisted of one small single blanket for my
sole use, inside of which was packed a cold leg of lamb. I carried the
luncheon basket, also strapped on my shoulders, filled with two large
bottles of cream, some tea and sugar, and, I think, teaspoons. It looked
a very insignificant load by the side of the others, but I assure you I
found it frightfully heavy long before I had gone half-way up the hill.
The rest distributed among them a couple of large heavy axes, a small
coil of rope, some bread, a cake, tin plates and pannikins, knives
and forks, and a fine pigeon-pie. Concerning this pie there were two
abominable propositions; one was to leave it behind, and the other
was to eat it then and there: both of these suggestions were, however,
indignantly rejected. I must not forget to say we included in the
commissariat department two bottles of whisky, and a tiny bottle of
essence of lemon, for the manufacture of toddy. We never see a real
lemon, except two or three times a year when a ship arrives from the
Fiji islands, and then they are sixpence or a shilling apiece. All these
things were divided into two large heavy "swags," and to poor F---- was
assigned the heaviest and most difficult load of all--the water. He
must have suffered great anxiety all the way, for if any accident had
happened to his load, he would have had to go back again to refill his
big kettle; this he carried in his hand, whilst a large tin vessel with
a screw lid over its mouth was strapped on his back also full of water,
but he was particularly charged not to let a drop escape from the spout
of the kettle; and I may mention here, that though he took a long time
about it, for he could not go as straight up the hill as we did, he
reached the top with the kettle full to the brim--the other vessel
was of course quite safe. All these packings and repackings, and the
comfortable adjustment of the "swags," occupied a long time, so it was
past five when we began our climb, and half-past six when we reached the
top of the hill, and getting so rapidly dark that we had to 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. The ascent was very steep, and there were no sheep-tracks to
guide us; our way lay through thick high flax-bushes, and we never could
have got on without their help. I started with a stick, but soon threw
it aside and pulled myself up by the flax, hand over hand. Of course
I had to stop every now and then to rest, and once I chose the same
flax-bush where three young wild pigs had retired for the night, having
first made themselves the most beautiful bed of tussock grass bitten
into short lengths; the tussocks are very much scattered here, so it
must have been an afternoon's work for them; but the shepherds say these
wild pigs make themselves a fresh bed every night.

The first thing to be done was to pitch the tent on the little flat at
the very top of the hill: it was a very primitive affair; two of the
thinnest and longest pieces of totara, with which Flagpole is strewed,
we used for poles, fastening another piece lengthwise to these upright
sticks as a roof-tree: this frame was then covered with the large
double blanket, whose ends were kept down on the ground by a row of the
heaviest stones to be found. The rope we had brought up served to tie
the poles together at the top, and to fasten the blanket on them; but as
soon as the tent had reached this stage, it was discovered that the
wind blew through it from end to end, and that it afforded very little
protection. We also found it much colder at the top of this hill than
in our valley; so under these circumstances it became necessary to
appropriate my solitary blanket to block up one end of the tent and
make it more comfortable for the whole party. It was very little shelter
before this was done. The next step was to collect wood for a fire,
which was not difficult, for at some distant time the whole of the hill
must have been covered by a forest of totara trees; it has apparently
been destroyed by fire, for the huge trunks and branches which still
strew the steep sides are charred and half burnt. It is a beautiful
wood, with a strong aromatic odour, and blazed and crackled splendidly
in the clear, cool evening air, as we piled up a huge bonfire, and put
the kettle on to boil. It was quite dusk by this time, so the gentlemen
worked hard at collecting a great supply of wood, as the night promised
to be a very cold one, whilst I remained to watch the kettle, full of
that precious liquid poor F---- had carried up with such care, and to
prevent the wekas from carrying off our supper, which I had arranged
just inside the tent. In this latter task I was nobly assisted by my
little black terrier Dick, of whose sad fate I must tell you later.

By eight o'clock a noble pile of firewood had been collected, and we
were very tired and hungry; so we all crept inside the tent, which did
not afford very spacious accommodation, and began our supper. At this
point of the entertainment everybody voted it a great success; although
the wind was slowly rising and blowing from a cold point, and our
blanket-tent did not afford the perfect warmth and shelter we had fondly
credited it with. The gentlemen began to button up their coats. I had
only a light serge jacket on, so I coaxed Dick to sit at my back
and keep it warm; for, whilst our faces were roasted by the huge
beacon-fire, there was a keen and icy draught behind us. The hot tea was
a great comfort, and we enjoyed it thoroughly, and after it was over
the gentlemen lit their pipes, and I told them a story: presently we had
glees, but by ten o'clock there was no concealing the fact that we were
all very sleepy indeed; however, we still loudly declared that camping
out was the most delightful experiment. F---- and another gentleman
(that kind and most good-natured Mr. U----, who lives with us) went
outside the tent, armed with knives, and cut all the tussocks they could
feel in the darkness, to make me a bed after the fashion of the pigs;
they brought in several armfuls, and the warmest corner in the tent was
heaped with them; I had my luncheon-basket for a pillow, and announced
that I had turned in and was very comfortable, and that camping out was
charming; the gentlemen were still cheery, though sleepy; and the last
thing I remember was seeing preparations being made for what a Frenchman
of my acquaintance always will call a "grogs." When I awoke, I thought I
must have slept several hours. Though the fire was blazing grandly, the
cold was intense: I was so stiff I could hardly move; all my limbs ached
dreadfully, and my sensations altogether were new and very disagreeable.
I sat up with great difficulty and many groans, and looked round: two
figures were coiled up, like huge dogs, near me; two more, moody and
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
throats--statues of cold and disgust. To my inquiries about the hour,
the answer, given in tones of the deepest despondency, was "Only eleven
o'clock, and the sun doesn't rise till six, and its going to be the
coldest night we've had this year." The speaker added, "If it wasn't so
dark that we'd break our necks on the way, we might go home."

Here was a pretty end to our amusement. I slowly let myself down again,
and tried to go to sleep, but that relief was at an end for the night;
the ground seemed to grow harder every moment, or, at all events, I
ached more, and the wind certainly blew higher and keener. Dick proved
himself a most selfish doggie; he would creep round to leeward of _me_,
whilst I wanted him to let me get leeward of him, but he would not
consent to this arrangement. Whenever I heard a deeper moan or sigh than
usual, I whispered an inquiry as to the hour, but the usual reply,
in the most cynical voice, was, "Oh, you need not whisper, nobody is
asleep." I heard one plaintive murmur "Think of all our warm beds, and
of our coming up here from choice." I must say I felt dreadfully ashamed
of myself for my plan; it was impossible to express my contrition and
remorse, for, always excepting Mr. U----, they were all too cross to
be spoken to. It certainly was a weary, long night. About one o'clock I
pretended to want some hot tea, and the preparation for that got through
half an hour, and it warmed us a little; but everybody still was deeply
dejected, not to say morose. After an interval of only two hours more
of thorough and intense wretchedness we had a "grogs," but there was no
attempt at conviviality--subdued savageness was the prevailing state of
mind. I tried to infuse a little hope into the party, by suggestions of
a speedy termination to our misery, but my own private opinion was that
we should all be laid up for weeks to come with illness. I allotted to
myself in this imaginary distribution of ills a severe rheumatic fever;
oh! how I ached, and I felt as if I never could be warm again. The fire
was no use; except to afford occupation in putting on wood; it roasted a
little bit of you at a time, and that bit suffered doubly from the cold
when it was obliged to take its share of exposure to the wind. I cannot
say whether the proverb is true of other nights, but this particular
night, certainly, was both darkest and coldest just before dawn.

At last, to our deep joy, and after many false alarms, we really all
agreed that there was a faint streak of grey in the east. My first
impulse was to set off home, and I believe I tried to get up expressing
some such intention, but F---- recalled me to myself by saying, in great
surprise, "Are you not going to stop and see the sun rise?" I had quite
forgotten that this was the avowed object of the expedition, but I
was far too stiff to walk a yard, so I was obliged to wait to see what
effect the sunrise would have on my frozen limbs, for I could not think
of any higher motive. Presently some one called out "There's the sea,"
and so it was, as distinct as though it were not fifty miles off; none
of us had seen it since we landed; to all of us it is associated with
the idea of going home some day: whilst we were feasting our eyes on it
a golden line seemed drawn on its horizon; it spread and spread, and as
all the water became flooded with a light and glory which hardly seemed
to belong to this world, the blessed sun came up to restore us all
to life and warmth again. In a moment, in less than a moment, all our
little privations and sufferings vanished as if they had never existed,
or existed only to be laughed at. Who could think of their "Ego" in such
a glorious presence, and with such a panorama before them? I did not
know which side to turn to first. Behind me rose a giant forest in the
far hills to the west--a deep shadow for miles, till the dark outline
of the pines stood out against the dazzling snow of the mountains behind
it; here the sky was still sheltering the flying night, and the white
outlines looked ghostly against the dull neutral tints, though every
peak was sharply and clearly defined; then I turned round to see before
me such a glow of light and beauty! For an immense distance I could see
the vast Canterbury plains; to the left the Waimakiriri river, flowing
in many streams, "like a tangled bunch of silver ribbons" (as Mr. Butler
calls it in his charming book on New Zealand), down to the sea; beyond
its banks the sun shone on the windows of the houses at Oxford, thirty
miles off as the crow would fly, and threw its dense bush into strong
relief against the yellow plains. The Port Hills took the most lovely
lights and shadows as we gazed on them; beyond them lay the hills of
Akaroa, beautiful beyond the power of words to describe. Christchurch
looked quite a large place from the great extent of ground it appeared
to cover. We looked onto the south: there was a slight haze over the
great Ellesmere Lake, the water of which is quite fresh, though only
separated from the sea by a slight bar of sand; the high banks of the
Rakaia made a deep dark line extending right back into the mountains,
and beyond it we could see the Rangitata faintly gleaming in the
distance; between us and the coast were green patches and tiny
homesteads, but still few and far between; close under our feet, and
looking like a thread beneath the shadow of the mountain, ran the Selwyn
in a narrow gorge, and on its bank stood the shepherd's hut that I have
told you once afforded us such a good luncheon; it looked a mere toy, as
if it came out of a child's box of playthings, and yet so snug for all
its lonely position. On the other hand lay our own little home, with the
faint wreath of smoke stealing up through the calm air (for the wind had
dropped at sunrise). Here and there we saw strings of sheep going down
from their high camping-grounds to feed on the sunny slopes and in
the warm valleys. Every moment added to our delight and enjoyment; but
unfortunately it was a sort of happiness which one can neither speak of
at the time, nor write about afterwards: silence is its most expressive
language. Whilst I was drinking in all the glory and beauty before me,
some of the others had been busy striking the tent, repacking the loads,
very much lighter without the provisions; and we had one more excellent
cup of tea before abandoning the encampment to the wekas, who must have
breakfasted splendidly that morning. Our last act was to collect all
the stones we could move into a huge cairn, which was built round a tall
pole of totara; on the summit of this we tied securely, with flax, the
largest and strongest pocket-handkerchief, and then, after one look
round to the west--now as glowing and bright as the radiant east--we set
off homewards about seven o'clock; but it was long before we reached
the place where we left the horses, for the gentlemen began rolling
huge rocks down the sides of the hills and watching them crashing and
thundering into the valleys, sometimes striking another rock and then
bounding high into the air. They were all as eager and excited as
schoolboys, and I could not go on and leave them, lest I should get
below them and be crushed under a small stone of twenty tons or so. I
was therefore forced to keep well _above_ them all the time. At last we
reached the spur where the horses were tethered, re-saddled and loaded
them, and arrived quite safely at home, just in time for baths and
breakfast. I was amused to see that no one seemed to remember or allude
to the miseries and aches of that long cold night; all were full of
professions of enjoyment. But I noticed that the day was unusually
quiet; the gentlemen preferred a bask in the verandah to any other
amusement, and I have reason to believe they indulged 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
that the Hurunui, which is the boundary of that run, marks the extreme
north of the Province of Canterbury; and now I am writing to you from
the extreme south. I hope you do not forget to reverse in your own mind
the ordinary ideas of heat and cold, as connected with those points of
the compass. The distance from our house to this is about 160 miles, and
we actually took two days and a half to get here!--besides, into these
miles was compressed the fatigue of a dozen English railway journeys
of the same length. But, I suppose, as usual, you will not be satisfied
unless I begin at the very beginning. The first difficulty was to reach
the point where we were to join the coach on the Great South Road. It
was less than thirty miles, so we could easily have ridden the distance;
but the difficulty was to get our clothes all that way. They could not
be carried on horseback, and just then the station-dray was particularly
employed; besides which it would have taken three days to come and
go,--rather a useless expenditure of the man's time, as well as of
the horses' legs, where only two little portmanteaus were concerned.
Fortunately for us, however, this is a country where each man is ready
and willing to help his neighbour, without any inquiry as to who he is;
so the moment our dilemma was known various plans were suggested for our
assistance, of which this was the one selected:--

On a certain bright but cold Wednesday afternoon, F---- and I and our
modest luggage started in a neighbour's "trap" for the station I have
already mentioned on the Horarata, where Mr. C. H---- and I stopped
on our way to Lake Coleridge. It is on the plains at the foot of a low
range of downs, and about twelve miles from us. You cannot imagine
a more charming little cottage _ornee_ than the house is, capable of
holding, apparently, an indefinite number of people, and with owners
whose hospitality always prompts them to try its capabilities to the
utmost. A creek runs near the house, and on its banks, sloping to the
sun, lies a lovely garden, as trim as any English parterre, and a mass
of fruit and flowers. Nothing can be more picturesque than the mixture
of both. For instance, on the wall of the house is a peach-tree
laden every autumn with rosy, velvet-cheeked fruit; and jasmine and
passion-flowers growing luxuriantly near it. Inside all is bright
neatness and such a welcome! As for our supper, on this particular
day it comprised every dainty you can imagine, and made me think of
my housekeeping with shame and confusion of face. We had a very merry
evening, with round games; but there was a strong prejudice in favour of
going to bed early, as we all had to be up by three o'clock: and so
we were, to find a delicious breakfast prepared for us, which our kind
hostess was quite disappointed to see we could not eat much of. Coffee
and toast was all I could manage at that hour. We started in the dark,
and the first thing we had to cross was a dry river-bed, in which one of
the horses lay deliberately down, and refused to move. This eccentricity
delayed us very much; but we got him into a better frame of mind, and
accomplished our early drive of sixteen miles in safety, reaching the
accommodation-house, or inn, where the coach from Christchurch to Timaru
changes horses for its first stage, by six o'clock. There we had a good
breakfast, and were in great "form" by the time the coach was ready
to start. These conveyances have a world-wide celebrity as "Cobb's
coaches," both in America and Australia, where they are invariably the
pioneers of all wheeled vehicles, being better adapted to travel on a
bad road, or no road at all, than any other four-wheeled "trap." They
are both strong and light, with leathern springs and a powerful break;
but I cannot conscientiously say they are at all handsome carriages;
indeed I think them extremely ugly and not very comfortable except on
the box-seat next the driver. Fortunately, this is made to hold three,
so F---- and I scrambled up, and off we started with four good strong
horses, bearing less harness about them than any quadrupeds I ever saw;
a small collar, slender traces, and very thin reins comprised all their
accoutrements. The first half of the journey was slow, but there was no
jolting. The road was level, though it had not been made at all,
only the tussocks removed from it; but it was naturally good--a great
exception to New Zealand roads. The driver was a steady, respectable
man, very intelligent; and when F----could make him talk of his
experiences in Australia in the early coaching days, I was much
interested.

We crossed the Rakaia and the Rangitata in ferry-boats, and stopped on
the banks of the Ashburton, to dine about one o'clock, having changed
horses twice since we started from "Gigg's," as our place of junction
was elegantly called. Here all my troubles began. When we came out of
the little inn, much comforted and refreshed by a good dinner, I found
to my regret that we were to change drivers as well as horses, and that
a very popular and well known individual was to be the new coachman.
As our former driver very politely assisted me to clamber up on the
box-seat, he recommended F---- to sit on the outside part of the seat,
and to put me next the driver, "where," he added, "the lady won't be
so likely to tumble out." As I had shown no disposition to fall off
the coach hitherto, I was much astonished by this precaution, but said
nothing. So he was emboldened to whisper, after looking round furtively,
"And you jest take and don't be afraid, marm; _he_ handles the ribbings
jest as well when he's had a drop too much as when he's sober, which
ain't often, however." This last caution alarmed me extremely. The
horses were not yet put in, nor the driver put _up_, so I begged F----
to get down and see if I could not go inside. But, after a hasty survey,
he, said it was quite 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 he
repeated the substance of our ex-driver's farewell speech; and when I
saw our new charioteer emerge at last from the bar, looking only very
jovial and tolerably steady as to gait, I thought perhaps my panic was
premature. But, oh, what a time I had of it for nine hours afterwards!
The moment the grooms let go the horses' heads he stood up on his seat,
shook the reins, flourished his long whip, and with one wild yell from
him we dashed down a steep cutting into the Ashburton. The water flew in
spray far over our heads, and the plunge wetted me as effectually as if
I had fallen into the river. I exp

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