OUR HERD. 43 



through the early stages. But our security was 

 false. Whilst the seeds were growing up into young 

 plants, we were straining every nerve to get a piece 

 of ground dug and cleared ready to receive them. 

 After strenuous efforts (for it is anything but an easy 

 task to dig the virgin forest ground, with its tangle 

 of interlacing roots) we were just congratulating our- 

 selves what a nice piece of well-dug, well-cleaned land 

 we had prepared for our cabbages, and, all being 

 well, to-morrow we should transplant them. But 

 destiny — that is to say, our noble herd of cattle — 

 decreed otherwise. Even while the smile of self- 

 satisfaction was beaming upon our perspiring coun- 

 tenances, the cows, followed, not led, by the lord of 

 the herd, had found out our young plants, and were 

 revelling in the luxury. 



It was very exasperating to lose them in this way, 

 precisely when they were ready for being trans- 

 planted, and when we, moreover, were equally ready 

 to transplant them. However, a small residue of 

 both cabbages and cauliflowers was saved. These 

 growths we transplanted, and from them we cut the 

 cabbage and cauliflower heads which won each a 

 first prize at the Nelson Fruit Fair in the September 

 following. 



Of course, we lost no time in fencing round the 

 little pocket of garden ground; but, in spite of our 

 efforts, the cows broke in three or four times subse- 

 quently. They were animals which had been bred 

 and born in the forest. Fallen logs were no insuper- 

 able obstacles to them. They could all jump like 

 greyhounds, especially the calf, to which our children 

 Olive and Leslie gave the name of Nellie. This 



