moment; but early one fine
morning a knock came to our bed-room door, and a voice said, "Please,
sir, come and see what's the matter with the sheep? there's a large mob
of them at the back of the house being driven, like." Oh, my prophetic
soul! I felt it was Dick. Whilst F---- was huddling on some clothes I
implored him to temper justice with mercy, but never a word did he say,
and sternly took his gun in his hand and went out. I buried my head in
the pillows, but for all my precautions I heard the report of a shot
in the clear morning air, and the echo ringing back from all the hills;
five minutes afterwards F---- came in with a little blue collar in his
hand, and said briefly, "He has worried more than a dozen lambs this
morning alone." What could I say? F----'s only attempt at consolation
was, "he died instantly; I shot him through the head." But for many days
afterwards I felt quite lonely and sad without my poor little pet--yet
what could have been done? No one would have accepted him as a present,
and it flashed on me afterwards that perhaps this vice of his was the
reason of Dick's former owner being so anxious to give him to me. I
have had two offers of successors to Dick since, but I shall never have
another dog on a sheep station, unless I know what Mr. Dickens' little
dressmaker calls "its tricks and its manners."

Letter XX: the New Zealand snowstorm of 1867.

Broomielaw, August 1867. I have had my first experience of real
hardships since I last wrote to you. Yes, we have all had to endure
positive hunger and cold, and, what I found much harder to bear, great
anxiety of mind. I think I mentioned that the weather towards the end
of July had been unusually disagreeable, but not very cold This wet
fortnight had a great deal to do with our sufferings afterwards, for
it came exactly at the time we were accustomed to send our dray down to
Christchurch for supplies of flour and groceries, and to lay in a good
stock of coals for the winter; these latter had been ordered, and were
expected every day. Just the last few days of July the weather cleared
up, and became like our usual most beautiful winter climate; so, after
waiting a day or two, to allow the roads to dry a little, the dray
was despatched to town, bearing a long list of orders, and with many
injunctions to the driver to return as quickly as possible, for all the
stores were at the lowest ebb. I am obliged to tell you these domestic
details, in