one of my parishioners, travelling in all sorts of weather, for though in this Southern Island of New Zealand there is more sunshine than at home, yet there is no lack of rain, and fierce gales, snow and frost, with winters often quite as severe as in the old country. It also means, at times, fording flooded rivers, rough, difficult going in hill country, mostly untrodden by the foot of man, and absolute dependence on the plains on the compass in thick weather. Add to this every sort of accommodation at night, sometimes in comfortable homes, sometimes in huts or outhouses of the roughest description, in wooden bunks, devoid of mattress, on clay floors, but always with open-handed hospitality, and the kindliest welcome, and plenty of plain food.
I soon discovered that one needs to be a horseman as well as a rider, and being fifty miles from the nearest blacksmith, have learnt to shoe my horse, at a pinch, keeping spare shoes, and the necessary implements, and to do what is needed in the case of sore backs, girth galls, and horse doctoring, in short, being one's own groom in everything. This all adds zest to the work, and as I never let anyone else handle my horses they will come to me anywhere, when loose, and I am not a little proud of the compliments paid them by many a settler, as, for example, the other day:—"A fine mare that, keeps her condition well, I'll give you £40 for her." "No," said I, "I think you know she's worth more than that." "Yes, yes, I ought to have remembered who you are, you are so good to all of us, but you see, I do a good bit of horse-dealing." I teach my horses to walk well, an accomplishment in journeys averaging forty miles a day which is invaluable, and so I not only ease my horse, but, always
