neighbours immediately around us to attend service on Sunday
afternoon at three o'clock. F--- officiates as clergyman; _my_
duties resemble those of a beadle, as I have to arrange the
congregation in their places, see that they have Prayer-books, etc.
Whenever we go out for a ride, we turn our horses' heads up some
beautiful valley, or deep gorge of a river, in search of the huts of
our neighbours' shepherds, that we may tell the men of these
services and invite them to attend. As yet, we have met with no
refusals, but it will give you an idea of the scantiness of our
population when I tell you that, after all our exertions, the
"outsiders" only amount to fourteen, and of these at least half are
gentlemen from neighbouring stations. With this number, in addition
to our own small group, we consider that we form quite a respectable
gathering. The congregation all arrive on horseback, each attended
by at least two big colley dogs; the horses are turned into the
paddock, the saddles deposited in the back verandah, and the dogs
lie quietly down by their respective masters' equipments until they
are ready to start homewards. There is something very wild and
touching in these Sunday services. If the weather is quite clear
and warm, they are held in the verandah; but unless it is a very
sunny afternoon, it is too early in the year yet for this.

The shepherds are a very fine class of men as a rule, and I find
them most intelligent; they lead solitary lives, and are fond of
reading; and as I am anxious to substitute a better sort of
literature in their huts than the tattered yellow volumes which
generally form their scanty library, I lend them books from my own
small collection. But, as I foresee that this supply will soon be
exhausted, we have started a Book Club, and sent to London for
twenty pounds' worth of books as a first instalment. We shall get