by putting my packet of the fragrant leaves into the bushmen's
kettle, and drinking it afterwards out of one of their pannikins.
He tried to bribe me to this latter piece of simplicity by promising
to wash the tin pannikin out for me first. Now I was not dainty or
over particular; I could not have enjoyed my New Zealand life so
thoroughly if I had been either; but I did not like the idea of
using the bushmen's tea equipage. In the first place, the tea never
tastes the same when made in their way, and allowed to boil for a
moment or two after the leaves have been thrown in, before the
kettle is taken off the fire; and in the next place, it is very
difficult to drink tea out of a pannikin; for it becomes so hot
directly we put the scalding liquid into it, that long after the tea
is cool enough to drink, the pannikin still continues too hot to
touch. But I said so pathetically, "You know how wretched I am
without my tea," that F---'s heart relented, and he managed to stow
away the little teapot and the cup. That cup bore a charmed life.
It accompanied me on all my excursions, escaping unbroken; and is, I
believe, in existence now, spending its honoured old age in the
recesses of a cupboard.

After the luncheon, the next question to be decided is, which of the
dogs are to join the expedition. Hector, of course; he is the
master's colley, and would no more look at a sheep, except in the
way of business, than he would fly. Rose, a little short-haired
terrier, was the most fascinating of dog companions, and I pleaded
hard for her, as she was an especial pet; though there were too many
lambs belonging to a summer lambing (in New Zealand the winter is
the usual lambing season) in the sheltered paddocks beneath the
bush, to make it quite safe for her to be one of the party. She
would not kill or hurt a lamb on any account, but she always