We'll catch her for you in a moment." I must pause to mention here, that it struck me as being very odd in New Zealand the way in which _every_ creature has a name, excepting always the poor sheep.

If one sees a cock strutting proudly outside a shepherd's door; you are sure to hear it is either Nelson or Wellington; every hen has a pet name, and answers to it; so have the ducks and geese,--at least, up-country; of course, dogs, horses, cows and bullocks, each rejoice in the most inflated appellations, but I don't remember ever hearing ducks and fowls answer to their names in any other country.
But this is only by the way.

I gratefully and gladly accepted the transfer of the fair Kitty, and only wondered how I was to convey her to her new home, fifteen miles away.

Kitty was soon caught, and carried off into the house to be packed up for her first ride.

Accustomed as I am to ridiculous things happening to me, still I never felt in so absurd a position as when, having mounted "Helen," who seemed in a particularly playful mood after a good feed of oats, Kitty was handed to me neatly tied up in a pillow-case with her tufted head protruding from a hole in the seam at the side.