VIII 
MISS STODART 
251 
it was out of the question holding up umbrellas. 
Cloaks and rugs flapped and wouldn’t be settled, and 
the wind, shrieking and wailing round us, seemed like 
a host of evil presences. It grew icy cold, and the 
sleet seemed almost to cut our faces. On the moun- 
tains the snow was coming down so fast that before we 
reached the hotel they were almost completely clothed 
in their white garments ; and when we left again next 
day there were patches of snow on the plains, and we 
had another long, weary, bitterly cold drive. 
It was six o’clock when we reached Fairlie. An- 
other dripping journey in the train to Timaru, where 
everyone was blown into the carriages with red noses 
and blue pinched faces, then into the town itself, where 
we dripped about for two hours waiting for the Christ- 
church train, and watching the great rolling breakers 
crashing along the shore, a mass of foam and spray. 
Seven uninteresting hours, and then the substantial 
comforts of a warm fire in Coker’s Hotel at Christ- 
church, and the still greater relief of bed, and the 
knowledge that that trip had been successfully ac- 
complished. 
Even here everyone was shivering, but I forgot 
the weather amongst Miss Stodart’s beautiful flower- 
paintings in the Art Gallery. I had the pleasure of 
meeting her, and next morning went to see her whole 
collection. It was a new revelation to me to see such 
work hidden away, and I think she stands without 
rival the first and foremost of our flower-painters in 
Australia. Her grouping, colouring, form, and harmony 
were perfect. 
Hearing that Akaroa was one of the most beautiful 
harbours in New Zealand, I started off next morning 
three hours by train to Little River, where we caught 
the coach and drove on to the little town, 20 miles 
