Station Amusements in New Zealand - Lady Mary Anne Barker (romantic novels in english .txt) 📗

somewhat heavily laden, could be plainly seen a beautiful new pair of Oxford skates, glinting in the sunshine; and it must have been the sight of these beloved implements which called forth the half-envious remark from one of the gentlemen, "I suppose you have lots of skating up at your place?"

"Well, not exactly at my station, but there is a capital lake ten miles from my house where I am sure of a good day's skating any time between June and August," answered Mr. C. H----, our newly arrived guest.

We all looked at each other. I believe I heaved a deep sigh, and dropped my thimble, which "Joey" instantly seized, and with a low chirrup of intense delight, commenced to poke down between the boards of the verandah. It was too bad of us to give such broad hints by looks if not by words. Poor Mr. C. H---- was a bachelor in those days: he had not been at his little out-of-the-way homestead for some weeks, and was ignorant of its resources in the way of firing (always an important matter at a station), or even of tea and mutton. He had no woman-servant, and was totally unprepared for an incursion of skaters; and yet,--New Zealand fashion,--no sooner did he perceive that we were all longing and pining for some skating, than he invited us all most cordially to go up to his back-country run the very next day, with him, and skate as long as we liked. This was indeed a delightful prospect, the more especially as it happened to be only Monday, which gave us plenty of time to be back again by Sunday, for our weekly service. We made it a rule never to be away from home on that day, lest any of our distant congregation should ride their twenty miles or so across country and find us absent.

When the host is willing and the guests eager, it does not take long to arrange a plan, so the next morning found three of us, besides Mr. C. H---- mounted and ready to start directly after breakfast. I have often been asked how I managed in those days about toilette arrangements, when it was impossible to carry any luggage except a small "swag," closely packed in a waterproof case and fastened on the same side as the saddle-pocket. First of all I must assure my lady readers that I prided myself on turning out as neat and natty as possible at the end of the journey, and yet I rode not only in my every-day linsey gown, which could be made long or short at pleasure, but in my crinoline. This was artfully looped up on the right side and tied by a ribbon, in such a way that when I came out ready dressed to mount, no one in the world could have guessed that I had on any _cage_ beneath my short riding habit with a loose tweed jacket over the body of the dress. Within the "swag" was stowed a brush and comb, collar, cuffs and handkerchiefs, a little necessary linen, a pair of shoes, and perhaps a ribbon for my hair if I meant to be very smart. On this occasion we all found that our skates occupied a terribly large proportion both of weight and space in our modest kits, but still we were much too happy to grumble.

Where could you find a gayer quartette than started at an easy canter up the valley that fresh bracing morning? From the very first our faces were turned to the south-west, and before us rose the magnificent chain of the Southern Alps, with their bold snowy peaks standing out in a glorious dazzle against the cobalt sky. A stranger, or colonially speaking, a "new chum," would have thought we must needs cross that barrier-range before we could penetrate any distance into the back country, but we knew of long winding vallies and gullies running up between the giant slopes, which would lead us, almost without our knowing how high we had climbed, up to the elevated but sheltered plateau among the back country ranges where Mr. C. H----'s homestead stood. There was only one steep saddle to be crossed, and that lay between us and Rockwood, six miles off. It was the worst part of the journey for the horses, so we had easy consciences in dismounting and waiting an hour when we reached that most charming and hospitable of houses. I had just time for one turn round the beautiful garden, where the flowers and shrubs of old England grew side by side with the wild and lovely blossoms of our new island home, when the expected coo-e rang out shrill and clear from the rose-covered porch. It was but little past mid-day when we made our second start, and set seriously to work over fifteen miles of fairly good galloping ground. This distance brought us well up to the foot of a high range, and the last six miles of the journey had to be accomplished in single file, and with great care and discretion, for the track led through bleak desolate vallies, round the shoulder of abutting spurs, through swamps, and up and down rocky staircases. Mr. C. H---- and his cob both knew the way well however, and my bay mare Helen had the cleverest legs and the wisest as well as prettiest head of her race. If left to herself she seldom made a mistake, and the few tumbles she and I ever had together, took place only when she found herself obliged to go my way instead of her own. We entered the gorges of the high mountains between us and the west, and soon lost the sun; even the brief winter twilight faded away more swiftly than usual amid those dark defiles; and it was pitch dark, though only five o'clock, when we heard a sudden and welcome clamour of dog voices.

These deep-mouthed tones invariably constitute the first notes of a sheep-station's welcome; and a delightful sound it is to the belated and bewildered traveller, for besides guiding his horse to the right spot, the noise serves to bring out some one to see who the traveller may be. On this occasion we heard one man say to the other, "It's the boss:" so almost before we had time to dismount from our tired horses (remember they had each carried a heavy "swag" besides their riders), lights gleamed from the windows of the little house, and a wood fire sparkled and sputtered on the open hearth. Mr. C. H---- only just guided me to the door of the sitting-room, making an apology and injunction together,--"Its very rough I am afraid: but you can do what you like;"--before he hastened back to assist his guests in settling their horses comfortably for the night. Labour used to be so dear and wages so high, especially in the back country of New Zealand, that the couple of men,--one for indoor work, to saw wood, milk, cook, sweep, _wash_, etc., and the other to act as gardener, groom, ploughman, and do all the numerous odd jobs about a place a hundred miles and more from the nearest shop,--represented a wage-expenditure of at least 200 pounds a year. Every gentleman therefore as a matter of course sees to his own horse when he arrives unexpectedly at a station, and I knew I should have at least half an hour to myself.

The first thing to do was to let down my crinoline, for I could only walk like a crab in it when it was fastened up for riding, kilt up my linsey gown, take off my hat and jacket, and set to work The curtains must be drawn close, and the chairs moved out from their symmetrical positions against the wall; then I made an expedition into the kitchen, and won the heart of the stalwart cook, who was already frying chops over the fire, by saying in my best German, "I have come to help you with the tea." Poor man! it was very unfair, for Mr. C. H---- had told me during our ride that his servitor was a German, and I had employed the last long hour of the journey in rubbing up my exceedingly rusty knowledge of that language, and arranging one or two effective sentences. Poor Karl's surprise and delight knew no bounds, and he burst forth into a long monologue, to which I could find no readier answers than smiles and nods, hiding my inability to follow up my brilliant beginning under the pretence of being very busy. By the time the gentlemen had stabled and fed the horses and were ready, Karl and I between us had arranged a bright cosy little apartment with a capital tea-dinner on the table. After this meal there were pipes and toddy, and as I could not retire, like Mrs. Micawber at David Copperfield's supper party, into the adjoining bedroom and sit by myself in the cold, I made the best of the somewhat dense clouds of smoke with which I was soon surrounded, and listened to the fragmentary plans for the next day. Then we all separated for the night, and in two minutes I was fast asleep in a little room no bigger than the cabin of a ship, with an opossum rug on a sofa for my bed and bedding.

It was cold enough the next morning, I assure you: so cold that it was difficult to believe the statement that all the gentlemen had been down at daybreak to bathe in the great lake which spread like an inland sea before the bay-window of the little sitting room. This lake, the largest of the mountain chain, never freezes, on account partly of its great depth, and also because of its sunny aspect. Our destination lay far inland, and if we meant to have a good long day's skating we must start at once. Such a perfect day as it was! I felt half inclined to beg off the first day on the ice, and to spend my morning wandering along the rata-fringed shores of Lake Coleridge, with its glorious enclosing of hills which might fairly be called mountains; but I feared to seem capricious or lazy, when really my only difficulty was in selecting a pleasure. The sun had climbed well over the high barriers which lay eastwards, and was shining brightly down through the quivering blue ether overhead; the frost sparkled on every broad flax-blade or slender tussock-spine, as if the silver side of earth were turned outwards that winter morning.

No sooner had we mounted (with no "swag" except our skates this time) than Mr. C. H---- set spurs to his horse, and bounded over the slip-rail of the paddock before Karl could get it down. We were too primitive for gates in those parts: they only belonged to the civilization nearer Christchurch; and I had much ado to prevent my pony from following his lead, especially as the other gentlemen were only too delighted to get rid of some of their high spirits by a jump. However Karl got the top rail down for me, and "Mouse" hopped over the lower one gaily, overtaking the leader of the expedition in a very few strides. We could not keep up our rapid pace long; for the ground became terribly broken and cut up by swamps, quicksands, blind creeks, and all sorts of snares and pit-falls. Every moment added to the desolate grandeur of the scene. Bleak hills rose up on either hand, with still bleaker and higher peaks appearing beyond them again. An awful silence, unbroken by the familiar cheerful sound of the sheep calling to each other,--for even the hardy merino cannot live in these ranges during the winter months,--brooded around us, and the dark mass of