and shadows."

And so it was, most beautiful and thoroughly delightful. I sat on the
short sweet grass, which springs upon the rich loam of fallen leaves the
moment sunlight is admitted into the heart of a bush. No one plants it;
probably the birds carry the seeds; yet it grows freely after a clearing
has been made. Nature lays down a green sward directly on the rich
virgin mould, and sets to work besides to cover up the unsightly stems
and holes of the fallen timber with luxuriant tufts of a species of
hart's-tongue fern, which grows almost as freely as an orchid on decayed
timber. I was so still and silent that innumerable forest birds came
about me. A wood pigeon alighted on a branch close by, and sat preening
her radiant plumage in a bath of golden sunlight. The profound stillness
was stirred now and then by a soft sighing breeze which passed over the
tree tops, and made the delicate foliage of the undergrowth around me
quiver and rustle. I had purposely scattered the remains of our meal in
a spot where the birds could see the crumbs, and it was not long before
the clever little creatures availed themselves of the unexpected feast.
So perfectly tame and friendly were they, that I felt as if I were
the intruder, and bound by all the laws of aerial chivalry to keep the
peace. But this was no easy matter where Rose and Nettle were concerned,
for when an imprudent weka appeared on the sylvan scene, looking
around-as if to say, "Who's afraid?" it was more than I could do to keep
the little terriers from giving chase. Brisk, too, blundered after them,
but I had no fear of his destroying the charm of the day by taking even
a weka's life.

Thus the delicious afternoon wore on, until it was time to boil the
kettle once more, and make a cup of tea before setting out homewards.
The lengthening shadows added fresh tenderness and beauty to the
peaceful scene, and the sky began to paint itself in its exquisite
sunset hues. It has been usual to praise the tints of tropic skies when
the day is declining; but never, in any of my wanderings to East and
West Indies, have I seen such gorgeous evening colours as those which
glorify New Zealand skies.

A loud coo-ee summoned F---- to tea, and directly afterwards the horses
were re-saddled, the now empty flax basket filled with the obnoxious
teapot and cup, wrapped in many layers of flax leaves, to prevent their
rattling, and we bade good night to the tired bushmen. We left them at
the