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 b.a.l.l.s 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 a.s.semble, 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 ma.s.s 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 a.s.sembled 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 hoa.r.s.e 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 t.i.the 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 ma.s.ses 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 pa.s.sable, 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 ma.s.ses 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 pa.s.sage 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 cl.u.s.tered 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 quant.i.ties 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 sc.r.a.ps 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 ill.u.s.tration of the French proverb which speaks of the inequality of love, for I am quite pa.s.sive 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 b.u.t.ter, 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 b.u.t.ter; 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 b.u.t.ter, 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 c.o.c.katoos." 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 cla.s.s 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 gra.s.s; 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 a.s.sumes 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 c.o.c.katoos 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 c.o.c.katoo, 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 c.o.c.katoo."

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 st.u.r.dy 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 c.o.c.katoos are "n.o.body's business;" so, as far as educational advantages go, they are perfectly dest.i.tute.

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, a.s.suring me the c.o.c.katoo 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 c.o.c.katoo 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 sh.o.r.e, 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 pa.s.s, 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 sh.o.r.e 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 pa.s.sengers, 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 pa.s.sed 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 ash.o.r.e, 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 s.p.a.ce. 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 quant.i.ty. 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 sh.o.r.e 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 sh.o.r.e 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 pa.s.sed 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 cla.s.s 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s 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.