to carry a message, with a handful of rice and sugar in his pocket. Tripp asked me to take the services, and in the evening one of the men asked me, "Ain't you a parson?" "No," said I, "but I hope to be." "Well, we all think you're just the sort of fellow to suit us." I acknowledged the compliment, and, talking and practically living with them, soon discovered that the free and easy way in this country in which all meet together would probably help me much in my future work.
Before I left Tripp suggested that we should build a boat, and try to establish a ferry over the deeper part of the ford. With the aid of a carpenter I did my share, especially in shaping oars from likely saplings. We then launched our craft, flat-bottomed and rather clumsy, Tripp steering, and I rowed, with Smith the head-shepherd behind me. I had pared down the oars too finely, in my zeal to turn out a pair such as one uses on the Thames, and midstream Smith's oar broke off short at the rowlock. He couldn't swim and, losing his head, in the swirl of the rushing water, put up his hands, and began to pray. "Smith, Smith," cried Tripp. "stop praying; there's a spare oar, take it!" He did so, just in time to save us from going down a dangerous rocky rapid;—the experiment of a ferry proved a failure in such a stream.
Leaving Mt. Peel, I travelled southward across rich plain country, very well watered, one night finding shelter with a settler in his hut, another camping down amongst the shelter of flax bushes, fording some considerable streams, and arriving at the "Levels" Station, where a Mr. G. Rhodes, from Australia, has an extensive sheep-run. He was the first man to venture down and settle in this part of Canterbury.
