room. After that, there could be nothing for the last comer except a
shake-down in red blankets.

It _always_ happened I observed that everybody arrived together. For
weeks we would be alone. I lived once for eight months without seeing
a lady; and then, some fine evening, half a dozen acquaintances would
"turn up,"--there really is no other word for it. Well, on these
occasions, when, instead of departing next morning, our impromptu guests
have sometimes been forced to wait until such time as the rain or the
wind should cease; their pent-up animal spirits became often too much
for them, and they would feel an irresistible impulse to get rid of some
of their superfluous health and strength by violent exercise. I set
my face at once against "athletic sports" or "feats of strength" being
performed in my little drawing-room, although they were always very
anxious to secure me for the solitary spectator; and I forget who hit
upon the happy thought of turning the empty wool-shed into a temporary
gymnasium. There these wild boys--for, in spite of stalwart frames
and bushy beards, the Southern Colonist's heart keeps very fresh and
young--used to adjourn, and hop and leap, wrestle and box, fence and
spar, to their active young limbs' content. They seemed very happy, and
loud were the joyous shouts and peals of laughter over the failures; but
after seeing the performance once or twice, I generally became tired
and bored, and used to slip away to the house and my quiet corner by
the fire. Rose considered it her duty to remain at her master's heels as
long as possible, but after a time she too would creep back to silence
and warmth, though she never deserted her post until the noise grew
altogether too much for her nerves; and then, with a despairing whimper,
sometimes swelling to a howl, poor little Rose would tuck her tail
between her legs, and dash out, through the storm, to seek shelter and
quiet with me.

Whenever Rose appeared thus suddenly in my quiet retreat, I felt sure
some greater uproar than usual was going on down at the wool-shed, and,
more than once, on inquiry, I found Rose's nerves must have been tried
to the utmost before she turned and fled.

As for the intelligence of sheep-dogs, a volume could be written on
the facts concerning them, and a still more entertaining book on the
fictions, for a New Zealand shepherd will always consider it a point of
honour to cap his neighbour's anecdote of _his_ dog's sagacit