These men can do well, but those who have to buy labour cannot make it
answer. The difficulty lies in the high rate of wages.

February 13.--Since my last I have been paying a visit of a few days at
Kaiapoi, and made a short trip up to the Harewood Forest, near to which
the township of Oxford is situated. Why it should be called Oxford I do
not know.

After leaving Rangiora, which is about 8 miles from Kaiapoi, I followed
the Harewood road till it became a mere track, then a footpath, and then
dwindled away to nothing at all. I soon found myself in the middle of
the plains, with nothing but brown tussocks of grass before me and
behind me, and on either side. The day was rather dark, and the
mountains were obliterated by a haze. "Oh the pleasure of the plains,"
I thought to myself; but, upon my word, I think old Handel would find
but little pleasure in these. They are, in clear weather, monotonous
and dazzling; in cloudy weather monotonous and sad; and they have little
to recommend them but the facility they afford for travelling, and the
grass which grows upon them. This, at least, was the impression I
derived from my first acquaintance with them, as I found myself steering
for the extremity of some low downs about six miles distant. I thought
these downs would never get nearer. At length I saw a tent-like object,
dotting itself upon the plain, with eight black mice as it were in front
of it. This turned out to be a dray, loaded with wool, coming down from
the country. It was the first symptom of sheep that I had come upon,
for, to my surprise, I saw no sheep upon the plains, neither did I see
any in the whole of my little excursion. I am told that this
disappoints most new-comers. They are told that sheep farming is the
great business of Canterbury, but they see no sheep; the reason of this
is, partly because the runs are not yet a quarter stocked, and partly