operly transferred to us, in lieu of our cheque. Various
documents are signed and registered, and we stand the proud possessors
of so much soil and timber; while the Maoris make tracks straight to the
hotel and store, with much rejoicing.

Not that we paid in full at the time. Such a simple arrangement would
not have suited our pockets, any more than it would have suited the
Maori idea of a bargain. A part of the land was paid for and bought
outright, the rest was to be paid off in certain terms of years, or
sooner, if we liked. Meanwhile, we were to pay interest on the sums
remaining due, which was actually a sort of rent for the balance of the
estate. As a concession on their side, the Maoris gave us the right of
running cattle free over the unpaid-for acres. And as there were no
fences, of course, this really meant that we might run our cattle over
the whole country side, which was practically what we paid the interest
or rent for. Then we entered into possession, and built the shanty. But
observe what we had to do in the forthcoming years. We had to get a
living, first. We had to pay the annual sum agreed on as a sort of rent,
second. We had to provide for the purchase of implements, sundry
accessories, and stock, third. Lastly, we had to lay by to meet the
future large payments for the land, which would make us proprietors of
the whole of it, and, of course, annul the annual rent.

Perhaps it will be better understood now why we live in a shanty, and
why the furniture of it is so unique in quality and restricted in
quantity. How we have got on so well is a marvel, and shows what hard
work will do in this country. A thousand pounds would have bought our
station outright. But we had not a thousand pounds among us, or anything
like it; and we had to reserve money to live on for the first year, to
buy our axes and spades and milk-pans, and to buy the nucleus of our
future herds and flocks and droves. We have done all we had to do, and
now we are beginning to see that our joint work during all these years
will eventually produce for us homes and comfort.

It is a hard and difficult thing to make money without capital to start
with. It is as hard a thing to do in the colonies as it is at home,
though people at home are apt to think differently. And it is always the
early years of toil that are the worst.

Money is like an apple-tree. At first it grows but slowly, and there is
no fruit. Then there come little scanty cr