XIII.]

A "Nor'-wester."

87

it was impossible to stir out of the house; it was the severest gale since our arrival, and it is hardly possible to give you a correct idea of the force and fury of the wind. Not a glimpse of the mountains was to be seen; a haze of dust, as thick as any fog, shut everything out. The sheep had all taken refuge under the high banks of the creeks.

curious that sheep always feed head to wind in a nor'-west gale, whereas they will drift for miles before a sou'-wester. The trees bent almost flat before the hot breath of this hurricane, and although the house was built of cob, and its walls were very thick and solid, the creaking and swaying of the shingled roof kept me in perpetual alarm. The verandah was a great protection; and yet the small river-pebbles, of which the garden-walk was made, were dashed against the windows like hailstones by each gust. We amused ourselves indoors by the study and composition of acrostics, and so got through an imprisonment of two days, without a moment's cessation of the wind; but towards sunset on Saturday there were signs of a lull, and about midnight the gale dropped, and we heard the grateful, refreshing sound of soft and continuous rain, and when we came out to breakfast on Sunday morning everything looked revived again. It is a most fortunate meteorological fact that these very high winds are generally succeeded by heavy rain; everything is so parched and shrivelled up by them that I do not know what would become of the vegetation otherwise. We held

88

Damage done.

[LETTER

a council, to determine what had better be done about returning home, and finally decided to risk a wet ride sooner than disappoint the little congregation; for should it prove a fine afternoon, those who lived near would certainly come; so we mounted ·

after breakfast.

I was wrapped in one of the gentlemen's macintoshes, and found the ride far from disagreeable. As we neared our own station we began to look out for signs of disaster; and about half a mile from the house saw some of the vanes from the chimneys on the track; a little nearer home, across the path lay a large zinc chimney-pot; then another; and when we came close enough to see the house distinctly, it looked very much dwarfed without its chimneys. There had been a large pile of empty boxes at the back of the stable; these were all blown away in the gale. One huge packing-case was sailing tranquilly about on the pond, and planks and fragments of zinc were strewn over the paddock. The moment we reached the house Mr. U, the gentlemancadet of whom I have told you, came out, with a melancholy face, to tell me that a large wooden cage, full of the canaries which I had brought from England with me, had been blown out of the verandah, though it was on the most sheltered side. of the house. It really seemed incredible at first, but the cage was lying in ruins in the middle of the paddock, and all my birds except one had disappeared. It happened in the middle of the night,

XIII.]

Loss of my Canaries.

89

and Mr. U—— described, very amusingly, that when he was awakened by the noise which the cage made against a wire fence (which it just "topped" in passing), he sprang out of his bed in the attic, and clambered out of the window, expecting to find the very heavy sort of staircase-ladder in its place; but it was "over the hills and far away," so he had a drop of about twelve feet to the ground, which thoroughly aroused him. He went into the verandah. to see if the cage was safe, and was nearly knocked down by a big tin bath, ordinarily kept there, which was just starting across country. As soon as he missed the cage he very pluckily went after it, being able to keep sight of it by the fitful gleams of moonlight, and he was just in time to rescue the poor little surviving canary. We could not help laughing at the recital of all the mischief which had been done, but still it is very tiresome, and the garden looks, if possible, more wretched than ever. There is no shelter for it yet, and my poor green-peas are blown nearly out of the ground. It rained hard all the evening, so our congregation was confined to the home party.

LETTER XIV.

A CHRISTMAS PICNIC, AND OTHER DOINGS.

BROOMIELAW,

December 1866.

IT is too late to wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year in this letter. In order to allow them to reach you in time I should have sent my good wishes in October's letter; I must remember to do so next year. I am writing on the last days of the month, so I shall be able to tell you of our own Christmas doings; though, first, I must describe the festivities attending a "coming of age in the Bush," to which we were invited, about the middle of this month. How strange Christmas picnics and balls will appear in your eyes, before which still dangle probably the dear old traditional holly and ivy! I am obliged to preface all my descriptions with an account of a ride, if I am to begin, according to your repeated injunctions, at the very beginning; for a ride is quite certain to be both the beginning and end of each excursion, simply because we have no other means of going about, except on our feet. The ride upon this occasion was to Rockwood, where the birth

LETT. XIV.]

A Landscape.

91

day party was to assemble, but the road had not now so many terrors for me. In consequence of the fine dry weather, most of the bad places were safer and firmer, and the numerous creeks were only shallow sparkling streamlets over which a child could jump, instead of the muddy noisy wide brooks of three months ago. The day on which we started, this time, was a great contrast to the former one. When we reached the saddle I have before told you of, instead of being met and nearly driven back by a violent. "sutherly buster," we stopped before beginning the steep descent to admire the exquisite view before us.

Close on our right hand rose the Government bush out of which we get our firewood, standing grand and gloomy amid huge cliffs and crags; even the summer sunshine could not enliven it, nor the twitter and chirrup of countless birds. In front, the chain of hills we were crossing rolled down in gradually decreasing hillocks, till they merged in the vast plains before us, stretching away as far as the eye could reach towards the south, all quivering in the haze and glare of the bright sunlight. The background, extending along the horizon, was formed of lofty mountains still glistening white against the dazzling blue sky. Just at our feet the Rockwood paddocks looked like carpets of emerald velvet, spread out among the yellowish tussocks; the fences which enclose them were either golden with broom and gorse, or gay with wild roses and honeysuckle. Beyond these we saw the bright patches of flowers in the garden, and