because the sheep are in mobs, and, unless one comes across the whole
mob, one sees none of them. The plains, too, are so vast, that at a
very short distance from the track, sheep will not be seen. When I came
up to the dray, I found myself on a track, reached the foot of the
downs, and crossed the little River Cust. A little river, brook or
stream, is always called a creek; nothing but the great rivers are
called rivers. Now clumps of flax, and stunted groves of Ti palms and
other trees, began to break the monotony of the scene. Then the track
ascended the downs on the other side of the stream, and afforded me a
fine view of the valley of the Cust, cleared and burnt by a recent fire,
which extended for miles and miles, purpling the face of the country, up
to the horizon. Rich flax and grass made the valley look promising, but
on the hill the ground was stony and barren, and shabbily clothed with
patches of dry and brown grass, surrounded by a square foot or so of
hard ground; between the tussocks, however, there was a frequent though
scanty undergrowth which might furnish support for sheep, though it
looked burnt up.

I may as well here correct an error, which I had been under, and which
you may, perhaps, have shared with me--native grass cannot be mown.

After proceeding some few miles further, I came to a station, where,
though a perfect stranger, and at first (at some little distance)
mistaken for a Maori, I was most kindly treated, and spent a very
agreeable evening. The people here are very hospitable; and I have
received kindness already upon several occasions, from persons upon whom
I had no sort of claim.

Next day I went to Oxford, which lies at the foot of the first ranges,
and is supposed to be a promising place. Here, for the first time, I