beds, and other useful things. Out of doors matters would not even
be as far advanced towards a garden and plantation as they are if we
had commenced operations ourselves, but the ground has been worked
since last year. I am glad we have chosen to build our house here
instead of at the homestead two miles off; for I like to be removed
from the immediate neighbourhood of all the work of the station,
especially from that of the "gallows,"--a high wooden frame from
which the carcases of the butchered sheep dangle; under the present
arrangement the shepherd brings us over our mutton as we want it.

Inside the house everything is comfortable and pretty, and, above
all things, looks thoroughly home-like. Out of the verandah you
pass through a little hall hung with whips and sticks, spurs and
hats, and with a bookcase full of novels at one end of it, into a
dining-room, large enough for us, with more books in every available
corner, the prints you know so well on the walls, and a trophy of
Indian swords and hunting-spears over the fireplace: this leads into
the drawing-room, a bright, cheery little room--more books and
pictures, and a writing-table in the "_h_oriel." In that tall,
white, classical-shaped vase of Minton's which you helped me to
choose is the most beautiful bouquet, made entirely of ferns; it is
a constant object for my walks up the gullies, exploring little
patches of bush to search for the ferns, which grow abundantly under
their shelter by the creek. I have a small but comfortable bedroom,
and there is a little dressing-room for F--- and the tiniest spare
room you ever saw; it really is not bigger than the cabin of a ship.
I think the kitchen is the chief glory of the house, boasting a
"Leamington range" a luxury quite unknown in these parts, where all
the cooking is done on an American stove,--a very good thing in its
way, but requiring to be constantly attended to. There is a