three rooms, at five shillings a-week, to be
paid, the landlady emphatically said, "every
Saturday night." The lodgings were furnished,
and our first meal was a farce, at which,
although we were the actors in it, we laughed
heartily. Our tea equipage consisted of an
inverted tub, with a towel over the bottom,
for a table, a couple of basins, and a "hook-pot,"
with plenty of new bread and fresh
butter; the unimaginable deliciousness of
which, none but long sea-voyagers wot of. A
rocking-chair fell to my lot, and a crazy box
supported my spouse; yet I doubt if ever tea
were more thoroughly enjoyed than ours was
that night.

In a few days, when we became a little more
settled, my husband was out from morning to
night, walking the country in search of land;
for although he is an attorney, and has now
good hopes of a moderate practice here, we
thought it advisable, as we were not rich, to put
ourselves out of the reach of want, by
undertaking the tillage of a little land. It was some
time before he could find any that exactly suited
us; at last he hit upon five acres, with a small
house on it, two miles from town, for which
we gave forty pounds. It is partially inclosed,
and consists of rich scoriæ soil. The house is
built of the rough, unhewn scoriae stone,
plastered and whitewashed within; the roof is
thatched with rapu, a kind of reed, of which the
natives form their huts. The flooring is sound,
and the roof not low. The interior area of the
entire mansion measures exactly twenty feet
by ten, but, by means of a curtain, is divided
into an eating and sleeping apartment; these,
in their time, play many parts; dining-room,
drawing-room, boudoir, kitchen, nursery, library,
and study. I—brought up an idle
English lady, accustomed to pass my time as
I pleased, to divide it between books and
amusements, but giving much more of it to
pleasure than to study—am the household
goddess of this paradise; here I wash, and
cook, feed my goats, and dress my baby, or
when the little gentleman sleeps, endeavour
to give you some faint idea of the toils and
pleasures of an, emigrant's life. But rude
as our home is, we love and enjoy it more
than I can describe; for it has the inexpressible
charm of being—OUR OWN. Labour is
anxiously demanded here.

The meanest carpenter gets eight shillings
a-day. We could not, for love or money,
procure one to floor our house; so trifling a job
being deemed quite unworthy his attention.
Labourers get four shillings and sixpence
a day—some more; and one told me, to-day,
that he was wanted in four places at once.
Whoever, therefore, comes out above this
class, must make up his mind to work (unless
he bring plenty of money out with him), and
work hard, or he had better stay at home. I
have been, literally, a hewer of wood and a
drawer of water. But, in New Zealand, all
this is done in hope, in the steadfast and
sure hope of every day improving our condition,
of being able to rest in our old years,
and of leaving to our children, be they ever
so many, an ample provision.

But, because I dwell so much upon the
labours they have to perform, you must not
suppose that the New Zealanders are without
their amusements. They have their races, and
their regatta, and own an Epsom, if they
cannot boast a Derby. At the races I was not
present; but the regatta was a sight worth the
voyage from England; I mean on account of
the Maori race, which was the ninth of the
day. Three large and powerful canoes—their
prows fantastically carved and decorated with
feathers, manned by an ulimited number of
natives—started to contest for the prizes.
At the stern, and in mid-ships, their dark and
tall figures naked to the waist, with frantic
gestures, and wild gesticulations, stood two
chiefs, animating their men to victory. They
almost flew over the course; and as returning
they neared the flag-ship, it was a neck-
and-neck contest between the two leading
canoes. But Te Whero Whero, one of the
most powerful chiefs of the north, with almost
unearthly yells, urged on his men. Fast flew
his canoe beneath the powerful strokes of
their paddles, and, darting forwards by a
length, Te Whero Whero gained the honours
of that day. Then the savages gave
themselves up to all the excitement of victory.
They shouted, they danced, they sprung—
reeking as they were—into the water, and
raised loud, and long, their cry of victory.

The climate is beautiful. I dress every
morning with the door open, (it is an outer
door). Such are among the things we do
with impunity. I am become robust and
strong. My hair, from being weak and thin,
is now so thick that I can scarcely bear its
weight. Standing upon Mount Eden, as you
look down upon the city and the sea, you can
discern no smoke or impurity hanging over it,
as over our English towns. The atmosphere
is pure and balmy. Poverty hides not here
in crowded and filthy dwellings. The children
are chubby and clean; the women
generally well-dressed and healthy. At a
distance from the town, on the road to Mount
Eden, lie the cemeteries,—one for every
religious denomination. A large cross marks
the Roman Catholic burial-ground. Each
grave is railed in, and flowers and shrubs are
coining up around. Slaughter-houses are not
suffered to pollute our air. No meat of any
description is allowed to be killed within
three miles of the town. My husband walks
from our suburban residence into town every
day. Auckland being built upon hills, has
scarcely a level street. Most of the houses
are detached; sometimes unappropriated allotments
lie between them. There are no pavements;
and grass grows in the middle of
many of the streets. Nevertheless, everything
has a thriving look. New houses are
being constantly erected; new shops daily
opened; everything advances. From