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 mutton chops had to be trimmed and prepared, all ready to
be cooked when we got there. These were neatly folded up in clean
paper; and a little packet of tea, a few lumps of white sugar, a
tiny wooden contrivance for holding salt and pepper, and a couple of
knives and forks, were added to the parcel.

So much for the contents of the basket. They needed to be carefully
packed so as not to rattle in any way, or Helen, my pretty bay mare,
would soon have got rid of the luncheon--and me. I wrapped up three
or four large raw potatoes in separate bits of paper, and slipped
them into F---'s pockets when he was looking another way, and then
began the real difficulty of my picnic: how was the little tin
tea-pot and an odd delf cup to be carried? F--- objected to put
them also in his pocket, assuring me that I could make very good tea