v FARM LIFE IN NEW ZEALAND 213 
six and seven feet high ; cattle were turned into it in 
the spring, when they lived on the young shoots as 
they came up. In time the constant nibbling destroyed 
the plants, and the poor animals were left to starve, 
eating at last even the roots. The grass soon grew 
after it was sown, but the cattle lay dead in every 
direction. It was less costly to improve the land in 
this way than by other means. 
The last of the harvesting was finished as we got 
back ; and I went to watch the long row of cows being 
milked. There are six young men here learning 
farming ; they are all Englishmen and do the whole 
of the work, rising at five, when they have tea and 
something to eat, then breakfast at eight, lunch very 
often in the fields, and dinner at seven. They 
seem a very happy household. The farm is 1000 
acres in extent, carrying 1000 sheep, 200 head of 
cattle, and 30 horses. The work is mixed — dairying, 
pastoral, and agricultural — 100 acres being kept under 
the plough for turnips, oats, carrots, and other crops. 
Even here in New Zealand they talk of “ Queen’s 
weather,” and what a glow of sunshine came flooding 
into the room to herald the day, my last one in the 
little town that from old associations was so dear to 
me. We had planned a day in the country, and 
started early in the morning, first passing up the Devon 
line, where here and there a good-bye was said ; then 
along an English-looking lane with tall hedges on both 
sides, past the old hospital — a picturesque Elizabethan- 
looking house, which is now turned into a home for 
old men ; up the hill again to the cemetery, where 
a monument stands out against a dark background 
of pines, marking the spot where those who were 
cruelly murdered at Pukearuhe, the White Cliffs, lie. 
Now from a height we looked down upon the clear 
