Christchurch during the autumn very often die. Owing to the
flatness of the site of the town, it is almost impossible to get a
proper system of drainage; and the arrangements seem very bad, if
you are to judge from the evil smells which are abroad in the
evening. Children who are born on a station, or taken there as soon
as possible, almost invariably thrive, but babies are very difficult
to rear in the towns. If they get over the first year, they do
well; and I cannot really call to mind a single sickly, or even
delicate-looking child among the swarms which one sees everywhere.

I cannot say that I think colonial children prepossessing in either
manners or appearance, in spite of their ruddy cheeks and sturdy
limbs. Even quite little things are pert and independent, and give
me the idea of being very much spoiled. When you reflect on the
utter absence of any one who can really be called a nurse, this is
not to be wondered at. The mothers are thoroughly domestic and
devoted to their home duties, far more so than the generality of the
same class at home. An English lady, with even an extremely
moderate income, would look upon her colonial sister as very
hard-worked indeed. The children cannot be entrusted entirely to
the care of an ignorant girl, and the poor mother has them with her
all day long; if she goes out to pay visits (the only recognized
social duty here), she has to take the elder children with her, but
this early introduction into society does not appear to polish the
young visitors' manners in the least. There is not much rest at
night for the mater-familias with the inevitable baby, and it is of
course very difficult for her to be correcting small delinquents all
day long; so they grow up with what manners nature gives them.
There seems to me, however, to be a greater amount of real domestic
happiness out here than at home: perhaps the want of places of