and I was recommended to mount outside the little enclosure, on a
patch of open ground, where my steed would not be able to brush me
off. The moment I mounted, the "Hermit" as he was called, made for
a dry ditch and tried to lie down, but a sharp cut from a stock-whip
brought him out of it, and then he laid his ears well back and
started for a good gallop, to endeavour to get rid of his strange
rider. However, his head was turned in the right direction; there
were no obstacles in the way, and before he got tired of his pace we
had left Timaru a good many miles behind us. F--- looked
complacently at the "Hermit," and observed, "He'll carry you very
nicely, I think." I could only breathe a sincere hope that he
might.

It was a beautiful day, warm but not oppressive, and delightfully
calm. Our road lay at first along the sea-shore. Ever since we had
left Christchurch the ground had been almost level, and the road
consisted merely of a track cleared from tussocks. On our left
extended the vast strip known as the Ninety-miles Beach, whilst far
on our right, between us and the west coast, the Southern Alps, rose
in all their might and beauty, sometimes lightly veiled by a summer
haze, at others cutting our Italian-blue sky sharp and clear with
their grand outlines. Our horses were a trifle too fat for good
condition, and we feared to hurry them the first day, so we made an
early halt at Mahiki, only a twenty miles stage; but the next day
they took us on to Waitaki Ferry, past a splendid bush, and so into
the heart of the hill country.

Between the ranges, beautiful fertile valleys extended; when I say
fertile, I mean that the soil was excellent, and the land
well-grassed. But there was no cultivation. Not a sod had ever been