d 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