Station Amusements

Station Amusements

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Station Amusements, by Lady Barker
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Title: Station Amusements
Author: Lady Barker
Release Date: June, 2004 [EBook #5992] [Yes, we are more than one
year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on October 9, 2002]
Edition: 10
Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STATION
AMUSEMENTS ***

Produced by P J Riddick

STATION AMUSEMENTS IN NEW ZEALAND
by
Lady Barker

Preface.
The interest shown by the public in the simple and true account of
every-day life in New Zealand, published by the author three years ago,
has encouraged her to enlarge upon the theme. This volume is but a
continuation of "Station Life," with this difference: that whereas that
little book dwelt somewhat upon practical matters, these pages are
entirely devoted to reminiscences of the idler hours of a settler's life.
Many readers have friends and relations out in those beautiful distant
islands, and though her book should possess no wider interest, the
author hopes that these at least will care to know exactly what sort of
life their absent dear ones are leading. One thing is certain: that few
books can ever have afforded so much pleasure to their authors, or can
have appeared more completely to write themselves, than "Station
Life," and this, its sequel. M. A. B.

Chapter I
: A Bush picnic.
Since my return to England, two years ago, I have been frequently
asked by my friends and acquaintances, "How did you amuse yourself
up at the station?" I am generally tempted to reply, "We were all too
busy to need amusement;" but when I come to think the matter over
calmly and dispassionately, I find that a great many of our occupations
may be classed under the head of play rather than work. But that would

hardly give a fair idea of our lives there, either. It would be more
correct to say perhaps, that most of our simple pleasures were
composed of a solid layer of usefulness underneath the froth of fun and
frolic. I purpose therefore in these sketches to describe some of the
pursuits which afforded us a keen enjoyment at the time,--an enjoyment
arising from perfect health, simple tastes, and an exquisite climate.
It will be as well to begin with the description of one of the picnics,
which were favourite amusements in our home, nestled in a valley of
the Malvern Hills of Canterbury. These hills are of a very respectable
height, and constitute in fact the lowest slopes of the great Southern
Alps, which rise to snow-clad peaks behind them. Our little wooden
homestead stood at the head of a sunny, sheltered valley, and around it
we could see the hills gradually rolling into downs, which in their turn
were smoothed out, some ten or twelve miles off, into the dead level of
the plains. The only drawback to the picturesque beauty of these lower
ranges is the absence of forest, or as it is called there, bush. Behind the
Malvern Hills, where they begin to rise into steeper ascents, lies many
and many a mile of bush-clad mountain, making deep blue shadows
when the setting sun brings the grand Alpine range into sharp white
outline against the background of dazzling Italian sky. But just here,
where my beloved antipodean home stood, we had no trees whatever,
except those which we had planted ourselves, and whose growth we
watched with eager interest. I dwell a little upon this point, to try to
convey to any one who may glance at these pages, how we all,
--dwellers among tree-less hills as we were,--longed and pined for the
sights and sounds of a "bush."
Quite out of view from the house or garden, and about seven miles
away, lay a mountain pass, or saddle, over a range, which was densely
wooded, and from whose highest peak we could see a