who first scales it will be crowned with undying laurels: for my part,
though it is hazardous to say this of any mountain, I do not think that
any human being will ever reach its top.

I am forgetting myself into admiring a mountain which is of no use for
sheep. This is wrong. A mountain here is only beautiful if it has good
grass on it. Scenery is not scenery--it is " country," subaudita voce
"sheep." If it is good for sheep, it is beautiful, magnificent, and all
the rest of it; if not, it is not worth looking at. I am cultivating
this tone of mind with considerable success, but you must pardon me for
an occasional outbreak of the old Adam.

Of course I called my companion up, and he agreed with me that he had
never seen anything so wonderful. We got down, very much tired, a
little after dark. We had had a very fatiguing day, but it was amply
repaid. That night it froze pretty sharply, and our upper blankets were
again stiff.

* * *

May, 1860.--Not content with the little piece of country we found
recently, we have since been up the Hurunui to its source, and seen the
water flowing down the Teramakaw (or the "Tether-my-cow," as the
Europeans call it). We did no good, and turned back, partly owing to
bad weather, and partly from the impossibility of proceeding farther
with horses. Indeed, our pack-horse had rolled over more than once,
frightening us much, but fortunately escaping unhurt. The season, too,
is getting too late for any long excursion. The Hurunui is not a snow
river; the great range becomes much lower here, and the saddle of the
Hurunui can hardly be more than 3000 feet above the level of the sea.