the English hall or rectory by careful loving hands of mothers and
sisters, and lying unused for years until now. There was a little
china tray, which had been slipped into some corner by a
child-sister anxious to send some possession of her "very own" out
to the other end of the world; there was a vase with flowers; a
parti-coloured pin-cushion of very gay silks, probably the parting
gift of an old nurse; and a curious old-fashioned essence bottle,
with eau-de-cologne; the surrounding country had been ransacked to
procure a piece of scented soap. The only thing to remind me that I
was not in an English cottage was the opossum rug with which the
neat little bed was covered. The sitting-room looked the picture of
cosy comfort, with its well-filled book-shelves, arm-chairs, sofa
with another opossum rug thrown over it, and the open fireplace
filled with ferns and tufts of the white feathery Tohi grass in
front of the green background. We enjoyed our luncheon, or rather
early dinner, immensely after our ride; and in the afternoon went
out to see the nice large garden (such a contrast to our wretched
little beginnings), and finally strolled on to the inevitable
wool-shed, where the gentlemen had an animated "sheep talk." I
rather enjoy these discussions, though they are prefaced by an
apology for "talking shop;" but it amuses me, and I like to see the
samples of wool, which are generally handed about in the heat of a
great argument, the long white locks are so glistening, and soft,
and crinkly.

My five-o'clock tea was duly remembered, and then, as there was
nothing more to see out of doors within a short distance, I proposed
that I should make a cake. The necessary ingredients were quickly
collected. I had relays of volunteers to beat up the eggs, and
though I suffered great anxiety until it was cut at supper, it