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
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