Old Colonial and his chums at our shanty in the bush.

To a certain extent we are of musical tastes, and, though our time for
practice is limited to an occasional half-hour of an evening, we
consider ourselves no mean instrumentalists, and sometimes give public
performances, as will appear hereafter. We have two flutes, a clarionet,
a cornet, and a French horn, often supplemented by two violins and a
concertina. Old Colonial does not play, neither does O'Gaygun. They
fiercely decline to add to what they term the beastly uproar.

If we have a failing, it is to be found in an inability to hang together
in our play, and an incapacity for comprehending the said fact. Set
either instrumentalist by himself, and he will manage to stumble through
a tune; but put the whole orchestra together, and the result usually
falls short of what should be harmony. The hornist is our feeblest
musician. He has not yet succeeded in eliciting more than two notes and
a half out of his instrument, and these he lets off in spasmodic puffs,
governed by a curious notion of the proper places for them to fit into
the general performance. The flutes are a little unsteady and
unreliable; the clarionet always squeaks in pathetic parts; and the
cornet imagines that loudness is the chief thing to be desired.

There was a newly-married couple recently established a few miles away
up the river. Of course, they were received in the district with great
acclamation, when they first came up here, after being tied up in
Auckland. Bonfires blazed on the ranges, guns were fired, and a
procession of boats escorted theirs home. As a strictly bachelor
community, we felt some hesitation about going to call and congratulate
the couple. This was owing to our own shyness and uncouthness, you
understand, not to any disfavour with which we looked upon matrimony as
an abstract thing. For we were previously unacquainted with the bride.
However, some demon prompted us to give them a midnight serenade.

By dint of tremendous practice, we had mastered, as we thought, those
three famous melodies, "Home, Sweet Home," "Juanita," and "God Save the
Queen." The orchestra was equal to _them_, anyhow, we considered.
Neither of our two unmusical associates cared to be left out of the
proposed excursion, so a drum was manufactured for Old Colonial, by
stretching a sheepskin over the open ends of a cask; O'Gaygun was found
incompetent to play on any other instrument but the ancient co