II 2

A Dame's School.

[LETTER

When I mentioned my discovery of this hamlet, and my dismay at the state of neglect in which so many fine intelligent-looking children were growing up, every one warned me not to interfere, assuring me the Cockatoo was a very independent bird, that he considered he had left all the Ladies Bountiful and blanket and coal charities behind him in the old country; that, in short, as it is generally put, "Jack is as good as his master" out here, and any attempt at patronage would be deeply resented. But I determined to try the effect of a little visiting among the cottages, and was most agreeably surprised at the kind and cordial welcome I received. The women liked to have some one to chat to about their domestic affairs, and were most hospitable in offers of tea, &c. and everywhere invitations to "come again" were given; so the next week I ventured to invite the men over to our Sunday services. Those who were fond of reading eagerly accepted the offer to join the bookclub, and at last we started the educational subject. Many plans were' discussed, and finally we arranged for one woman, who had received an excellent education and was quite fitted for the post, to commence a dayschool; but this entailed so much loss of her valuable time that the terms she is obliged to ask seem disproportionately high to the people's means. She wants 2s. 6d. a week with each child, and this is terribly heavy on the head of a family who is anxious and willing to give them some "schooling." However, the plan is to be tried, and I have promised to

xv.] Money needed for a School-house.

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start them with books, slates, copybooks, &c. It was quite touching to hear their earnest entreaties that F―― would come over on Sunday sometimes and hold a service there, but I tried to show them this could not be managed. The tears actually came into their eyes when I talked of the happiness it would be to see a little church and school in their midst; and the almost invariable remark was, "Ah, but it'll be a far day first." And so I fear it will—a very far day; but I have often heard it said, that if you propose one definite object to yourself as the serious purpose of your life, you will accomplish it some day. Well, the purpose of my life henceforward is to raise money somehow or somewhere to build a little wooden school-room (licensed for service, to be held whenever a missionary clergyman comes by), and to pay the salary of a schoolmaster and mistress, so that the poor Cockatoo need not be charged more than threepence a week for each child. The Board of Education will give a third of the sum required, when two-thirds have been already raised; but it is difficult to collect subscriptions, or indeed to induce the squatters to listen to any plan for improving the condition of the small farmers, and every year which slips away and leaves these swarms of children in ignorance adds to the difficulty of training them.1

1 Since this was written, a school-house, also used as a church, has. been built in this district by private subscription and Government aid. A clergyman, who lives some twenty-five miles away, rides over and holds service once a month.

I

LETTER XVI.

A SAILING EXCURSION ON LAKE COLERIDGE.

LAKE COLERIDGE,

February 1867.

A VIOLENT storm of wind and rain from the southwest keeps us all indoors to-day, and gives me time to write my letter for the Panama mail, which will be made up to-morrow. The post-office is ten miles off, and rejoices in the appropriate name of "Windwhistle;" it stands at the mouth of a deep mountain gorge, and there never was such a temple of the winds.

This bad weather comes after a long spell of lovely bright summer days, and is very welcome to fill up the failing creeks in the lower ranges of hills. I must tell you how much we have been enjoying our visit here. F knows this part of the country well, but it is quite new to me, and a great contrast to the other scenery I have described to you. We had long talked of paying Mr. C. H— a visit at his bachelor Hcottage on his station, far back among the high ranges of hills, but no time was fixed, so I was rather taken by surprise when last week he drove up to Broomielaw

LETT. XVI.] The usual “Nor'-wester.”

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in a light American waggon with a pair of stout horses, and announced that he had come to take us to his place next day. There was no reason against this plan, and we agreed at once; the next morning saw us on the road, after an early breakfast. We had to drive about thirty-five miles round, whereas it would have been only twenty miles riding across the hills; but our kind host thought that it would be much more comfortable for me to be able to take a carpet-bag in the carriage instead of the usual system of saddle-bags one is obliged to adopt travelling on horseback. We made our first stage at the ever-hospitable station of the C-s, on the Horarata, but we could not remain to luncheon, as they wished, having to push on further; and, as it turned out, it was most fortunate we took advantage of the first part of the day to get over the ground between us and our destination, for the gentle breeze which had been blowing since we started gradually freshened into a tremendous "nor'wester," right in our teeth all the rest of our way. The poor horses bent their heads as low as possible and pulled bravely at their collars, up hill the whole time. Among the mountains the wind rushed with redoubled fury down the narrow gorges, and became icily cold as we neared the snowy ranges. It was impossible to see the hills for the thick mist, though I knew we must have a magnificent view before us. We took refuge for an hour just to rest the horses, at Windwhistle, and I cer

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New Zealand Lake Scenery. [LETTER

tainly expected the house to come down whilst we were there. I can hardly tell you anything of the rest of the drive, for I was really frightened at my first experience of a "howling nor'-wester" out of doors, and Mr. H made me sit down at the bottom of the carriage and heaped over me all the cloaks and shawls we had brought. It was delightful to find ourselves under shelter at last in a pretty bright snug room, with lots of books and arm-chairs, and a blazing fire; this, you must remember, in midsummer.

The next morning was perfectly calm, and the lake as serene as if no storm had been dashing its water in huge breakers against the beach only a few hours before. The view from the sitting-room was lovely: just beneath the window there was a little lawn, as green as possible from the spray with which the lake had washed it yesterday; beyond this a low hedge, an open meadow, a fringe of white pebbly beach, and then a wide expanse of water with one little wooded island, and shut in gradually from our view by spurs of hills running down to the shore, sometimes in bold steep cliffs, and again in gentle declivities, with little strips of bush or scrub growing in the steep gullies between them. The lake extends some way beyond where we lose sight of it, being twelve miles long and four miles broad. A few yards from the beach it is over six hundred feet deep. Nothing but a painting could give you any idea of the blue of sky and water that morning; the