with ravage,
By such teeth young Adonis was bitten.

Then praise to our new Atalanta,
Of the chase and of song spoils be brought her,
Whose skill and whose strength did not want a
Meleager to finish the slaughter.

She is sung, and New Zealand shall take her,
Thrice blest to possess such a matron,
And give thanks to its first ballad-maker,
Who found it a saint for a patron.

Letter XXIII: Concerning a great flood.

Broomielaw, February 1868. Since I last wrote to you we have been nearly
washed away, by all the creeks and rivers in the country overflowing
their banks! Christchurch particularly was in great danger from the
chance of the Waimakiriri returning to its old channel, in which case it
would sweep away the town. For several hours half the streets were under
water, the people going about in boats, and the Avon was spread out like
a lake over its banks for miles. The weather had been unusually sultry
for some weeks, and during the last five days the heat had been far
greater, even in the hills, than anyone could remember. It is often very
hot indeed during the mid-day hours in summer, but a hot night is almost
unknown; and, at the elevation we live, there are few evenings in the
year when a wood-fire is not acceptable after sunset; as for a blanket
at night, that is seldom left off even in the plains, and is certainly
necessary in the hills. Every one was anxiously looking for rain, as the
grass was getting very dry and the creeks low, and people were beginning
to talk of an Australian summer and to prophesy dismal things of a
drought. On a Sunday night about eleven o'clock we were all sauntering
about out of doors, finding it too hot to remain in the verandah; it was
useless to think of going to bed; and F---- and Mr. U---- agreed that
some great change in the weather was near. There was a strange stillness
and oppression in the air; the very animals had not gone to sleep, but
all seemed as restless and wakeful as we were. I remember we discussed
the probability of a severe earthquake, for the recent wave at St.
Thomas's was in everybody's mind. F---- and I had spent a few days in
Christchurch the week before. There was a regular low-fever epidemic
there, and, he had returned to the station feeling very unwell; but
in this country illness is so rare that one almost forgets that such a
thing exists, and we both attributed his seedin