which belong to nature as they fell from the hand of the great Creator of the universe, far removed from trees, villages, hamlets, and equally distant from any other habitation whatever. It is there at a certain season of the year that sportsmen from every part of Europe assemble to enjoy their favourite sport.

This part is so perfectly wild, and in many cases so utterly bereft of any kind of land mark, that the sportsman for his own security and comfort carries very frequently his pocket compass, and is thereby enabled when out of sight of his hotel, or any other object to serve as a beacon, to steer his course like the mariner of the ocean, and to arrive at his hotel at any given time for dinner, after all the fatigues of a hard day's shooting. What a treat for a Cockney sportsman !

I passed through this extraordinary country, and deeply regretted that it was not the season for the assemblage of sportsmen from the divers countries of Europe. I can imagine no greater enjoyment to the sportsman than meeting with his confrères and exchanging their ideas upon dogs, guns, shooting, and all that appertains to sporting, after a good day's shooting, over an excellent bottle of wine, which Norway can afford, equal to any country in Europe, and at the time that I paid it a visit at a very low charge.

When I arrived in Sweden, having heard that Mr. Loyd, the well-known author of treatises upon Swedish sports, was then living somewhere near to the cataract of Tralhatta, I made up my mind sans façon to give him a call without a letter of introduction. After having seen the cataract of Tralhatta, which failed to impress me with any of those lofty ideas which are usually acquired in viewing one of nature's rarest scenes, I proceeded to find out Mr. Loyd, and in the attempt

got completely lost. This all arose, of course, from not knowing the language of the country. How long I should have been lost is difficult to determine, but for the steamer happening to pass me. I immediately made up to some gentleman who was acquainted with French, who further questioned some other passenger as to which was my proper course to return to the highway that I had quitted; and so very fortunately I succeeded in retracing my steps to the part from which I had originally started.

Several years after, I was dining with a friend of mine in London, at whose house I was introduced to Mr. Loyd, upon which occasion I did not fail to tell him of my unsuccessful and ridiculous attempt to do myself the pleasure of calling upon him at the falls of Tralhatta.

From Tralhatta I wended my way through a very uninteresting part of Sweden, where the features of the country were more ordinary than any traveller could desire to meet with, to the town of Gottenberg, after having paid a visit to Christiania, at which former town I embarked for old England.

Instead of disposing of my carriole, which is usual at the end of a journey, I kept it expressly for the purpose of exhibiting it to the people in England, and I think I may safely say that mine was the first Norwegian carriole that was introduced into the county of Lincoln. I afterwards took it up to town, where it figured through many of the London streets; not with the proprietor as driver, who took care to follow at a respectful distance in the rear to have a full view of the effect it created in the minds of the Londoners. I once drove it in Hyde Park, upon which occasion a very gentlemanly man with two ladies approached me with a very polite touch of the hat, to ask me all about the very extraordinary vehicle I was driving, and

so finding myself likely to become notorious, and not wishing to pursue carriole driving as a road to reputation, I consequently never made a second appearance in the London parks.

CHAPTER IX.

Incidents of Travel-An Adventure in New ZealandSettler's Hospitality-Night at a Sheep Station-Dangers of Fording New Zealand Rivers-The Value of BrandyA Knowledge of Swimming Useless-A Lesson in River Fording A Mountain Scramble and Narrow Escape-The most Miserable Sheep Station in New Zealand-Song of the Pipe-A Night with Rats-Sensitiveness Respecting Earthquakes-Ludicrous Mistake-Sydney-The Blue Mountain Range-A Walk to the Turon Diggings-A Perfectly Green Traveller-Au Incident about a FiddleA London Girl in the Bush.

IT is my intention in this chapter to give the reader some of the incidents of travel, trusting that they may not prove entirely uninteresting, connected at the same time with some of the accidents which have occurred during my many rovings in distant parts of the world.

In the year 1852 I was in the Wairau district of the Nelson settlement, New Zealand, with a view to obtain a sheep run, and having failed in that undertaking in that part, but hearing afterwards that the Canterbury settlement afforded some chance of getting one, I left my nephew in the Wairau to proceed to that settlement, and gave up my own horse for a guide to accompany him, leaving me no alternative but to walk back to the town of Nelson, accompanied by a shepherd of the Hon. - Dillon's. The distance was about one hundred and twenty

miles, with numerous dangerous rivers to ford. My companion was a German, in whom I placed great confidence as cicerone.

We started with our knapsacks containing a pair of blankets, with eatables and drinkables necessary for the journey, tightly and very uncomfortably strapped to the shoulders. It is the rule in the sheep districts of New Zealand that hospitality be afforded at all the sheep stations to any one who may choose to travel into those parts; but as they do not provide beds, it is necessary for each man to carry a pair of blankets, with which he envelopes himself, sometimes luxuriously on a wooden frame without mattress or pillow, and more frequently on the ground floor when the visitors are numerous, and sometimes, gentle reader, with a stone for his only pillow.

Upon one occasion I slept on a floor with some twelve or thirteen others, each rolled in his respective blankets, literally covering the floor with this new species of living furniture, whose arms and legs occasionally assumed all those airs and graces, ridiculous attitudes, sudden fits and starts, which are so well performed by sleeping, dreaming, and fatigued travellers, which, if it had taken place before a theatrical audience, could not have failed in exciting their laughter and applause.

We at last came to a river, which we had to ford on foot. These New Zealand rivers may be ranked amongst some of the most fearful things in creation when contemplated from the eye of the pedestrian prior to his dashing into them, for, however stalwart, determined, judicious, and cool headed he may naturally be, he who enters them at one side is never certain of getting out alive at the other. The many deaths from drowning that are continually occurring only attest what I have now stated. The Hon. Dillon lost his life in fording

a river subsequently to my having had so narrow an escape for my life accompanied by his shepherd.

The danger arises from many causes. High and steep sided mountains in the immediate neighbourhood of the river, down which the rain descends like a succession of waterspouts into a dry bed, suddenly filling it with many feet of water, and carrying away large stones and masses of rock, which fully attest the power of the mountain torrent.

These

rivers in dry weather disappear in certain channels, which fill in some cases after a few minutes of heavy rain, when the mountains are within a few hundred yards of them. This was the case with one that I passed over, or rather whose bed was our only road, bounded on both sides by high mountains, leaving us no escape had rain come on.

One of my companions informed me, whilst riding down this dry bed of the river, of a party being surprised by a sudden rush of water like a tidal wave into the middle of them; one of whom had a narrow escape, his horse being literally turned round by the force of the water.

We at last came to the brink of a river, at which part was an island, and as my guide thought it more prudent to ford it at that part, we succeeded in landing on it. On entering the stream a second time we found the water too deep to cross over immediately and waded for a hundred yards or more against a very powerful stream to a part that was very narrow, in order to reach the opposite bank.

My guide, finding the water deeper than he expected, said we must return and take off our trousers, put them in our knapsacks, and attack it a second time. The shepherd then pulled out his bottle of brandy, finding that he had a tough job before him, and related to me the following story:

"When fording a river upon one occasion, I had a strong impression that it was doubtful my reach