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As usual I must begin by telling you that my last letter went by India, and having been of the usual fat proportions, and thick paper, often gives me twinges of remorse as to what it may make you pay, but I could not write it all over again! We are now waiting and wishing for the Labuan, which is due, having been out 112 days. We have also the additional excitement in prospect of a ball, to "come off", on the 31st, in the Store of our principal merchant; for which all promises well except the weather, and that is still very wet, and very unfavourable for slipping about in the dark, up and down these muddy hills. I have been having a much deeper and pleasanter excitement in watching a portrait of Arthur, growing under the skilful hands of Miss M. Townsend, who has been staying with us, to that end. It is in oils, and supposed to be taken at evening, on the seashore; he is sitting on a piece of rock, or stone, and his hat, and a few shells, lying by him on the sand; and on his knee the last new boat, one Mr. Jackson sent him from Sydney. I think it will be a pretty picture, but I fancy, as to the likeness, that I should be a bad judge, from knowing his face too well. Miss M. Townsend is very much like the eldest one that Sara knows, only rather quieter, and her face prettier. It seems she used to take portraits professionally, in London; but she did not expect to be asked for such things here. I don't think I ever saw a better portrait, as far as likeness goes, than one she has done of her father; even Arthur, the first time he came out of their room with me, said, "There was a picture of Mr. Townsend hanging up there".(N.B.—I may here apologize for a little mistake of his, which led to this alarming blot.)

August 5th. On Sunday we had a slight shock of an earthquake, while we were sitting at breakfast; the first page 206we have felt here. We, who were accustomed to such things, knew instantly what it meant; but most of the new-comers either did not feel it at all, or thought someone had banged a door, or that a cart came by. So you see it is not very bad. Our table was too solid to be moved, but the crockery rattled on the shelves in the kitchen, which are against thin partitions. The ball at Messrs. Longden & Le Creu's Store turned out very successful, in spite of pouring wet weather, and such muddy roads. Miss Townsend went home that morning, and so, hearing that the Fitzgeralds had sent a refusal on account of the terrible state of the hill up to their house, I went up there myself, with Arthur and a long stick (without which you must not expect to be able to stand upright anywhere but on level gravel), and I suggested that, as dancing ladies were very scarce, she ought to consider it a sort of duty to attend, and we did and should go, even if it poured; and that she could come down by daylight and dress and sleep at our house, and so it was arranged; excepting that, as he is almost always late, they came sliding in after I had dressed and just at tea-time. We were invited, you must know, for eight o'clock, and we meant to go punctually, in spite of the rain, which drizzled all the evening. There was a good deal of groaning, as the time approached for the start; as was to be expected, for it was a great effort! But it ended triumphantly; virtue's reward appeared, in the shape of Mr. Townsend's cart, which had cushions for the occasion, and we were conducted to the door in great style; splashing through the mud, in which our lantern made long lines of light. The upper floor of the warehouse was our robing room, and the flags of all the ships tapestried the lower one (which was the ballroom), round, and screened off portions as a recess for the pianoforte, and for the tea room, which included a fireplace. Then we had loads of evergreens, and calico roses, pink and white; and a good many candles, and a tolerable boarded floor, and everything did as well as possible. One of the schoolmasters who is to be organist, played the pianoforte, and one of the policemen (late of the 65th's band at Wellington) played alternately on the flageolet and violin. At twelve we prepared for our walk home, and arrived most page 207prosperously, only Mr. FitzGerald fell over flat on his side, and my husband lost one of his clogs in the mud. But I had on boots with wooden soles, really an inch thick, and though it was raining, and pitch dark, and the road very uneven, there was not even a spot of mud on my gown. The festivities were kept up until four o'clock next morning. There were, in all, fifteen ladies, including the six Miss Townsends, who were all there, and all evidently enjoying it thoroughly, and have all been sleepy ever since, having all danced eight hours without stopping. The weather prevented Mrs. Russell's coming, or rather, prevented her husband's allowing it.

There is still a great deal of illness and low fever about, and the wet weather seems to increase it. Poor Mr. Hart is dead. He was the son of Tom Cocks' agent at Reigate, and a very nervous, weak man; and the doctor attributed his death to the state of his mind, which prevented his getting strength to recover. It seems that he fretted very much about his affairs; he came out with literally hardly any money. I believe what he had was all spent on the passage, and as the fifty acres he was to occupy was bought in his sister's, or mother's, name, he could not raise money by selling a small part; and then, finding everything so dear, he lost all spirit. We did not know this until after he was dead; but John had been giving him some copying to do at the Office, before he fell ill. Mr. White, whom I mentioned in my last letter as an arrival by the Bronte, is also now dangerously ill in the same way; not exactly from the same causes, but he is a delicate consumptive man, and very nervous about himself, and has such a wife; more thoughtless, helpless, and untidy, than you can imagine, and does nothing but cry, and complain most bitterly of having ever come to such a place, by way of cheering him. Poor Mr. Hodgkinson is to be buried to-day. I think I told you, he was the chaplain of the Stedfast, and went out of his mind soon after they started. It seems he was consumptive and very ill besides that, but, poor man, what a sad end! He was quite harmless, but rather destructive, would throw candles or books in the fire, and at times he would talk sensibly for an hour together.

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August 6th. At last we have a fine day, after a spell of the worst weather we have had in N.Z. A fortnight ago it began to rain, and it has rained more or less (generally more) every day, except last Sunday, which was such a sharp white frost that we all knew it could not last. The poor Maoris have as yet got no houses here, so that they are sometimes in great distress, when the bad weather catches them, with their boats of potatoes, turnips, maize, etc., for they never venture out to sea except in very smooth weather. They have just got from my husband a promise of a bit of land enough to build a house on the beach, so that any Maoris here can occupy it, and they can bring the wood over from the Peninsular, where they have plenty. The other day, we felt quite sorry for one poor old man, with very grey hair, and a patchwork coat, and a most hideous old dark face. My husband found him alone on the beach at night, and brought him up to sleep in the hay in the stable-loft. He came, too, and disposed of a good deal of supper, and next morning came back for breakfast, and after that appeared pretty often about eating-time; till one Sunday, when, after breakfast-time, he took such a fancy to the copper kettle (which he declared was made of money), and when we went to church William thought he would watch him, and saw him go down to the stable and look round, and then put something into his pocket, which turned out to be the stable sponges! The very last thing one could imagine a Maori having any use or wish for. When William had brought in the dinner he stood still for a minute, and then, in his deadly grave way that you must well remember, he said: "That old Maori has been stealing the sponges out of the stable". So John, thinking he was laying the blame on him as a convenience, when perhaps they were only lost, said rather indignantly: "Oh, but how do you know that, William? "Then indeed, a ghastly smile passed over William's face, and disclosed the few teeth he has left (in front), as he answered: "I took them out of his pocket, sir". He is a noted old fellow, it appears, who once, in old times, helped both to kill and eat a whole boat's crew of white men who got on shore somewhere in these parts.

Boomer, Arthur's great dog, has had a terrible accident. page 209As William was chopping wood with an axe a day or two ago, the dog leaped down by him and literally popped his head on the block, and got a blow on his head that has, I believe, actually chipped a piece off his skull; it is tied up, but is a horrible place to look at. However, he seems otherwise quite well, but I can hardly fancy his getting over it. He is a very nice, good-tempered dog, but rather too much sometimes for his small master's strength; three times, in playing, he has got him down by running against him, and then he stands over him, making believe to bite his head, and it was not till the last time that Arthur was able to extricate himself without help. We have got a very handsome spaniel, whose name is Finder, and he is just such another dog as poor old Dash, a favourite with everyone and yet perfectly greedy and lazy. I have heard nothing, by the by, of Ruby, for some time. Arthur's portrait is quite finished, and perhaps quite as much like as we could expect, but I am sure, if we were to send it home now, you would imagine him very different from the reality. He looks so fat, and so very grave, for I was obliged to read a very exciting story, Fortunio, which I had kept new till then, in order to keep his face steady, and he listens very earnestly, just as Charlie used, so as quite to alter his whole face. At all events it is a very pretty picture, and I am going to get her (D.V.) to do another of my husband, for Miss Townsend only asks three or five guineas, and we are glad to give her something to do; so we can afford it, even if it should not be quite successful. She did one of Mr. Jacob that is an exact likeness, but then he was an extremely good sitter. Mrs. FitzGerald's brother, who came out as Surgeon on board the Bronte, has given up his practice altogether, for which I am sorry; for though he is a very young man, I suspect he knows more than any of our doctors here; but he is quite sick of it, and has gone to a "station" on the opposite side of the harbour, where he means to keep cows and sheep, etc. The small brother of twelve lives with him, cleans the knives, and fetches wood, and otherwise makes himself useful. Hamilton Ward is a most wonderful boy, for management of his affairs, and looking into expenses, etc. His brother left no will, at least none here, and so, the page 210father being sixteen thousand miles off, there is no one who can legally receive or pay one sixpence in his affairs; but they are straining a point to keep things going at the Island, and no one ever had heart and soul more completely in an undertaking than that child, as he is in many respects. He studies an enormous book, Stevens on the Farm, as any other boy would read a story or novel; he is a pretty fair carpenter, and something of a boatman, and thoroughly understands the management of poultry. You should see the face of exultation with which he tells us at dinner that "the boat" has come over, and brought a pound or two more butter than usual; and that the hens have at last laid, and he has a dozen eggs for the market, for which the price is now 3s. A baker and confectioner has lately set up business here, with great success; they make excellent rich cakes, etc., and contribute much to keep up the price of eggs. The working-men here (who have no families, let us hope) often crowd his shop, and eat up pastry, etc., faster than he can make it. He told me yesterday, they had more than they could do. There is another baker, with whom he has been competing, and this brought the price of bread down from 22d. the four-lb. loaf to a shilling, for a short time. However, I hear it is now again 16d. and likely to rise. We fortunately bought a quantity of flour when it was cheap, and now make our bread at home, and send it to him to be baked, and it is excellent. I wish I could make you try it! Sometimes we bake in our own camp oven, but that is not quite so good.

August 14th. For two days we have had the Labuan, and its sad grievous news,^* of loss and sickness and sorrow; and for two days I have been longing to say, as it were, something to you about it all, and yet my hand seems tied; what shall I write? how will it find you all? who may read my letter? It is at such times as these that one feels the bitterness of so great a separation, so long and so very far away, and I have been writing to her for months; ordinary, stupid letters (I have one by me, luckily unsent), which I am sadly afraid may go straight to my dear Charles, and add one pain more to all he must suffer. Oh, how much page 211I would give to have been at home, so I could have been only of some little use to him, or to those dear children! Poor Charlie¹ was so affectionate, too. You may believe I am anxious for the account by the next ship, which I am thankful to say is due now, being a quick sailer. And you, I wonder how you are, and poor Mrs. Pollen and Louie. I am writing alone, with my husband away at a public dinner, succeeding a public meeting, which took place this morning, in furtherance of the constitution of Canterbury into a separate Province. He could not, of course, help going, but you may believe we are very sad. It must have been so very trying to you, knowing that poor Charles was wishing and asking for you and still not able to go at first. I know what grief his must be, too great even to touch upon. But God will be gracious to him and give him true peace, so I hope and pray. But though he is scarcely ever out of my thoughts, I cannot write about him, not knowing when and how my letter may arrive.

August 18th. The Dominion is almost due. We were very glad to hear of our old Lady Nugent coming again, especially if she is still commanded by our dear Captain Parsons. He had had a little disagreement with the owners, we know; and besides, as he means, I believe, to settle out here, at Otago, I don't know how he will persuade them to give him the command, only to bring her out. But we hear a report that it is so arranged. How glad I should be if it were to turn out that he had seen any of you? I wish my box, which Sara mentions as already despatched by this Labuan, had chanced to come by his ship; he would have taken care enough of anything for us, I am sure, but so far no box appears, or can be heard of. I had, too, unfortunately, read that part of Louisa's letter to Arthur in which she speaks of the fish coming to him, so he is also in a state of disappointment; and whenever he sees Mr. Gouland (the Customs Officer) now, he says directly: "Oh, now I dare say he has just been rummaging my fish". He means in the Custom House. He was not well for one evening a day or two ago, and I was directly afraid he had this low fever, of which we have so many cases, but the next after-page 212noon, I am thankful to say, he was all right again; having had only baths and no medicine. I think he got a chill, for we have had very cold weather. Snow lying for nearly two days, that is a partial covering, but it fell with hail and sleet, and everything was so wet that it soon melted when the sun could get a look at it. But the people in the Labuan were somewhat discouraged at the greeting to their new country; it began just after they anchored, on the morning of the 12th. I do not think they seem to be a very nice set, and they have had great quarrels on board. The Captain, and most of the chief cabin passengers being at daggers drawn with the Chaplain, Surgeon and Schoolmaster. There is to be an investigation before my husband, as Resident Magistrate, and soon, to-morrow. The Surgeon may be all that is delightful, but he evidently cannot write or spell good English; and the Chaplain is known here as a "party" who disgraced himself in Falmouth, drinking, gambling, etc., so I hope he will go home as fast as he came out.

20th. We all went up "the road" this morning, before eight, to see the new vessel that was announced "inside the heads". But it does not seem to be an English ship. There is a smaller one arrived from Wellington with a report, that I trust may not be true, of the loss of the Maria, a large barque that sailed from here about three weeks ago, with the eldest Mr. Deans on board. In her passage down she had a narrow escape, and indeed we heard several times that she was lost. He would be a great loss to us, and I hope this account may turn out to be as much exaggerated as such things often are. Mr. White, whom I mentioned as so ill, is getting quite well, although he and his wife, as she often said before him, had quite made up their minds that he would die; and now we have got, as I trust, to some really fine weather, though there is a very sharp frost every night; this morning the road was quite hard, and Arthur "skating" over all the pools. After all the wet we have had, there are such innumerable springs (as they seem to be) about, that it seems difficult to believe that we can ever be burnt up and parched, as we were last summer, and that these roads in which we have had such trouble to find a firm (I don't say page 213clean or dry) place for the soles of our feet, will become troughs of dust in which you cannot hear a footfall; and yet we heard that last year's was considered a wet spring. I am sorry to say further accounts confirm the report of the Maria's wreck, all on board lost except one man, a Malay sailor, and one boy. It appears that they were in a tremendous gale; and, in trying in the night to get into Wellington harbour, they struck on a rock a little to the North, and the ship went to pieces. Seventeen bodies have already been washed on shore. Poor Mr. Deans is a great loss to us here. Not only from his unfailing kindness and good nature, but from the assistance that his advice and example, in all agricultural matters, gave to all the newcomers. His brother will feel his loss sadly; they were so united and so happy together; indeed I cannot tell what Mr. John Deans will do now; he was only waiting his brother's return from this voyage to Sydney (by Wellington) to get some fresh stock, cattle and sheep, to go home and be married in Scotland. Mr. Hanmer, whom you know, rode over to announce it to him as soon as all was known yesterday. He himself had a most providential escape. The Maria and three other large ships happened all to be ready to sail together, and then were detained by contrary winds for a day or two. One Sunday morning came a strong fair breeze, and they were all off and away early. Mr. Hanmer and Mr. Mason, a sort of superior farmer, who is a great ally of Mr. H.'s, were to have gone in the Maria. Poor Mr. Deans, who was, I should think, never too late for anything, managed to get on board; but they were too late, though they tried, with a boat, to catch her, and their bedding, etc., went off in her! We like Mr. Hanmer very much, and so does everyone here, and we see him pretty often, now, in the evening, as he is waiting in the port for the winter, while the weather is too bad for farming his station, which is always rather hard work. There was one very happy letter for me from Wellington by this mail, from little Mrs Dysandt, whom I have mentioned to you as wishing for a situation here as governess; and of course no one was prepared to receive her, those persons who were in a position to do so having brought governesses out with page 214them. She went on to try her fate at Wellington, where I could not even say that I knew anyone likely to want her. She has, however, done much better for herself, and writes me word that the Revd. Robert Cole (Colonial Chaplain, and parish priest) had been asked by Sir George Grey to call upon her; they "were mutually pleased," and in short, in two months she hopes to be married; and in two months more he gets leave of absence and is to go off home to England for two years. She says she is "as happy as mortal can be", and as far as I know of him, I think she is very lucky. But it is rather speedy work, for they had scarcely known each other a fortnight when it was all settled. Perhaps widowers and widows (as they are) can, when so disposed, manage those matters more speedily from their former experience. I am sure Mr. Adderley will be pleased, for he seemed to have taken great interest in her.

August 22nd. Yesterday morning arrived a brig from Wellington bringing our new Custom House Officer and sub-Treasurer, a very nice Mr. Hamilton, whom we knew at Wellington; where he, as a civilian attached to the surveying party, made one of the Acheron staff. He lives with us, for the present. You will say where? but we have, by sundry artifices, converted our bathroom into an apartment for Hamilton Ward; and as one bit of my room has long been screened off into a dressing-room, we still contrive to have a spare room; which, having once had, we find it very difficult to do without. Then, at 3 p.m. a new emigrant ship appeared, and anchored in sight from the town. My husband went off to it, and it turned out to be the Bangalore; the mails having been sent by the Dominion, which sailed twelve hours sooner! No small disappointment, as you may believe. However, he came on shore with a box from Sara; which was most joyfully received, although when it came to opening it, I felt very sick! There was no word inside, but still it seemed like good news, and so I tried to take it. Thank God, there came next morning a letter from Sara, out of one of the few odd bags of letters that did come by this ship, and so now I can wait patiently. I hear, too, that there are two boxes for me on board; but it will be, I suppose, some days before I can get them on shore and page 215through the Customs. I suppose the missing box is one of them. Arthur is so much charmed with his new book from Frances, and indeed it is much too good for him. I think I must hide it for fear of accidents; he is meditating a letter to her of thanks, and has selected several of what he considers his best pictures of ships to send in return. Then the clock picture from Aunt Sara, is always carried with him too, and goes very fast. Sometimes he gets a little puzzled amongst so many Aunts whom he knows only by name, and by presents received, and when I say of anything he has had some time, "Do you remember who sent you that?" he looks a little doubtful and says, "I forget what is the name of the Aunt"; as if it must be from an Aunt, when sometimes I gave it.

August 25th. I was stopped in my writing, on Saturday, by poor Hamilton Ward, who came in to tell me that his brother Henry's body was found, and it is to be buried to-day, by the other. He was drowned on June 23rd, just two months before. They could only recognize him by his clothes. The bay at the head of the harbour where he was found is seldom visited, so we cannot tell how long it had been washed up. Hamilton generally goes over to his island on the afternoon of Friday, when Lecture is over; stays there all Saturday, to see how things go on, and comes back in time for Church on Sunday morning. There is great good news in the port this morning; the 4-lb. loaf down at 1s. Just as it had risen to 20d., there came in, by different vessels, about.30 or 35 tons of flour, and so, thanks to the competition among the bakers, it is down again to the lowest that we have known it here. The consumption of the settlement is about five and a half tons a week. The Bangalore is, I hear, a very fine vessel, and all has gone on smoothly on board, and the passengers all in good humour. There is still no news of the Dominion. But we have already so many new faces about, that I am quite puzzled. Do you remember my telling you of a Mr. Birch who arrived in the Cressy, a great invalid? He was carried out of the ship, and laid for four months in bed, without the use of any of his limbs; he could turn his head about, and eat, but was perfectly helpless; and for a great part of the time was page 216given up by all the doctors. Wonderful to say, he is getting well, and slowly recovering the use of his limbs, and can now sit by the fire and read and turn over his book; he sits out of doors for hours every fine day, and has grown quite fat and rosy. It was fortunate that he had some money, and he has now a very respectable good kind of man as a servant, who makes him very comfortable. I think I have always forgotten to tell you of a visit we have about the middle of July from Mr. Enderby, the Governor of the Auckland Islands. He came up in one of his own whaling vessels, The Black Dog—something especially smart and fast sailing, and he touched here on his way up to Wellington. He had with him a sort of aide-de-camp, or Secretary, much more gentlemanlike-looking than himself; a Mr. King from Sydney, and just going to return there, quite sick of his life at the Auckland Islands. I sent a message by him to Alfred Denison, whom he said he often saw in Sydney. Mr. Enderby himself is an absurd little mixture of a metropolitan, or rather Greenwich, soap-boiler, and a wouldbe rough tar, with a German-looking moustache, and no teeth, and rolling his r's just as Mrs. Hicks does. I do not envy him his governorship at all. The Auckland Islands are really not fit to be inhabited at all, until the world is a great deal more filled up than it is in these parts. They have wretched climate, almost perpetual storms even in summer; and their soil is something like a passable bog, even then, and feels, they say, like walking on a sponge. Potatoes will grow there, when they are obliged; but everything else, including their supplies of fresh meat, must be brought from N.Z. or Sydney. They have about ninety-six adults, twenty-four of whom are women (and a very unmanageable lot), to compose their whole society. When anyone does very wrong, he is banished to a small uninhabited island two or three miles from the shore. Mr. Enderby, who is a tremendous talker, told us he had built a hut for his convicts to live in on this island. One day they came and told him that the convicts were unruly, and threatened to burn down the hut, of course by way of frightening him; however, he was quite resigned. The hut was burnt down, and now they live in a large cask with the page 217head off, which they may burn too, if they like. There is one man there now, or at least there was when Mr. E. left, who is to remain for six months. They say that the Governor's life is sometimes in danger, there are so few respectable characters among them; but he is a most determined little man, and evidently not in any alarm himself. Even about the success of his undertaking as a speculation, which, if you remember, is a great whaling society, or rather company. But most of his visitors, seem to think that sooner or later he must retreat, at all events as far north as New Zealand; perhaps settling his station on Stewart Island. Mr. E. J. Wakefield arrived here about the same time, having apparently quite recovered his little disappointment about the young lady, now at Otago, who came out in our ship. I am sure I told you about it. I have had letters from some of our Wellington friends, suggesting that we might easily pay them a visit next summer!!! If I ever do, it must be in our way somewhere; it is too much of an expedition with a child, including sea-sickness, and I should not like either to take or to leave him.

Sir George Grey, instead of being any longer the kind and paternal ruler that we found him down here, has taken a strongly offensive line in certain speeches and attacks upon the Canterbury Association addressed to the "Council" at Wellington. He is so angry at the great stir about "Canterbury", and the great progress already made here without his having anything to do with it. I have had a letter too from our dear Mr. Hadfield, but I am sorry to say not yet promising to come here, though he is our Archdeacon. The Bishop (N.Z.) writes to Mr. Jacobs that he will be down here (D.V.) in November, and bring Mrs. Selwyn. He is so very popular, and Mr. Jackson as much disliked. But you will hear enough about him, I suppose, when he gets back to England.

August 27th. I must be thinking of closing this letter as there is a good opportunity to-day by a vessel to Wellington to meet one, the Laura, that is going home from there direct. Another vessel is to sail from here on Saturday (30th) that will, in all probability, also be in time to catch her, but I shall send this now to make sure, though it is not a very page 218long letter for me. I went to this thin, small paper when we thought the letter must go again by India. I wish I had another week, which would most likely give time to answer the Dominion's letters; but I am afraid of being late, as I was for the Lord William Bentinck. I hope the letter to Sara, which I sent by the Cressy, via India, would explain how that happened, and I hope you saw Mr. Wilde. I long to hear of the box arriving, and were the stuffed birds motheaten? And now, good-bye. God bless you all, and my dear Charles. How glad I was to hear of William's getting the prize.