ing any craving for drink; then comes their annual holiday; they draw a considerable amount for wages, and travelling to some shanty of a public house, or to Christchurch, proceed to "knock down their cheque," giving it to the landlord, and bidding him treat all comers as long as it lasts. Needless to say that all they get for their hard-earned money is a sore head and empty pocket. You may argue with them, and they gravely plead that to "have a burst" is necessary for health after the long monotony of station life and fare, and that it beats any medicine. Few are habitual drunkards, at least in the country districts. Of course there are many who save money, and in a few years' time are in a position to start for themselves, and not a few who have overcome temptation and are thoroughly temperate, of whom I will give an instance.
In the Gorge of the Waimakariri River, "the water of winter," which is the Northern boundary of my district, there is a long stretch of picturesque forest, clothing the steep terraces and level ground bordering the approach to the Gorge. In it is a small settlement of sawyers and timber cutters, working for the neighbouring sheepfarmers, most old sailors, some men-o'-war's men, as handy on shore as on board, making excellent wages in their new occupation. I often spend a night with them, finding rough but utterly clean and tidy quarters, and very good company, for most of them have sailed the high seas far and wide, and their yarns are delightful. One of them, an old bluejacket, the steadiest of workmen, used to go off for his yearly "burst," and return for a year's perfect sobriety. He took a great fancy to me, perhaps because once I lit on him on one of these returns to his
