to feed
the fowls, and secure them in their own shed, and to light a roaring
coal (or rather lignite, for it is not true coal) fire in the
drawing-room, when, with a few warning splashes, the deluge of cold rain
came steadily down, and we went to sleep to the welcome sound of its
refreshing patter.

All that I have been describing was the weather of the past week.
Disagreeable as it might have been, it was needed in both its hot and
cold, dry and wet extremes, to make a true New Zealand day. The furious
nor'-wester had blown every fleck of cloud below the horizon, and dried
the air until it was as light as ether. The "s'utherly buster," on the
other hand, had cooled and refreshed everything in the most delicious
way, and a perfect day had come at last. What words can describe the
pleasure it is to inhale such an atmosphere? One feels as if old age
or sickness or even sorrow, could hardly exist beneath such a spotless
vault of blue as stretched out above our happy heads. I have often
been told that this feeling of intense pleasure on a fine day, which is
peculiar to New Zealand, is really a very low form of animal enjoyment.
It may be so, but I only know that I never stood in the verandah early
in the morning of such a day as I am trying to sketch in pen and ink
now, without feeling the highest spiritual joy, the deepest thankfulness
to the loving Father who had made His beautiful world so fair, and who
would fain lead us through its paths of pleasantness to a still more
glorious, home, which will be free from the shadows brooding from
beneath sin's out-stretched wings over this one. As I stood in the
porch I have often fancied I could seethe animals and even the poultry
expressing in dumb brute fashion, their joy and gratitude to the God
from whom all blessings flow.

But to return to the verandah, although we have never left it. Presently
F---- came out, and I said with a sigh, born of deep content and
happiness, "What a day!" "Yes," answered F----: "a heavenly day indeed:
well worth waiting for. I want to go and see how the men are getting on
in the bush. Will you like to come too?" "Of course I will. What can be
more enchanting than the prospect of spending such sunny hours in that
glorious bush?" So after breakfast I give my few simple orders to the
cook, and prepare, to pack a "Maori kit," or flat basket made of flax,
which could be fastened to my side-saddle, with the preparations for our
luncheon. First some m