mselves
of the idea that I was not succeeding, and never would succeed in New
Zealand, because I had not at once made a fortune out of nothing, or
discovered gold for the picking up. Of course, they were not right. I
had, considering my youth and ignorance on going out to New Zealand,
done admirably. It was necessary to undergo a term of probation and
education for the work of a sheep-farmer or any other in the Colony, and
this I had not only accomplished, but I had been, and was, making money
and a living, and had fair prospects before me should I decide to adopt
the life of a squatter permanently. I consulted my friends and some of
them were for following my brother's advice, but something within myself
kept prompting me in the same direction, and I began to feel more and
more that I had mistaken my vocation, and that I was bound to try before
it would be too late to get into the swing of the more congenial
employment for which I was longing.

The wandering spirit, too, mastered me once more, and I wished now to
see India and all I had heard and read of that wonderful land, as I had
originally desired to see New Zealand.

I did not decide hastily. I was aware that my leaving New Zealand now
would to some extent throw me back, if at any time in the future I
decided to return, but I was still very young, not yet 22, and a year or
two would make very little difference, and I knew that if I returned to
New Zealand I could always command immediate employment. I decided at
length to see India at any rate, and I wrote to my brother to that
effect.

The disposal of my sheep, horses, and other small possessions, was soon
accomplished, and one fine morning in May 1864, I found myself at Port
Lyttelton, accompanied by a number of old chums who had come to see me
off by the steamboat to Dunedin, from whence I was to proceed by mail to
Melbourne, and from thence to Bombay by the P. and O.

I felt sad indeed to look my last (it might be for ever) on the shores
of Canterbury, where I had passed five happy years, endeared to me all
the more on account of the varied and adventurous life I had led, and
the good friends and companions I was leaving behind, and I leaned on
the bulwarks of the little steamer as we passed out of the lovely bay
and saw the shepherd's hut, high up on the cliff, where we wanderers
from the ship five years before had been entertained by the Scotch
housewife to our first New Zealand dinner, then on to where