Behind us stretched the winding gullies by which we had climbed to this mountain tarn, and Mr.K----'s little hut and scrap of a garden and paddock gave the one touch of life, or possibility of life, to this desolate region.

In spite of all scenic wet blankets we tried hard to be gay, and no one but myself would acknowledge that we found the lonely grandeur of our "rink" too much for us.

We skated away perseveringly until we were both tired and hungry, when we returned to Mr.K----'s hut, took a hasty meal, and mounted our chilled steeds.

Mr.C.H---- insisted on bringing poor Mr.K---- back with us, though he was somewhat reluctant to come, alleging that a few days spent in the society of his kind made the solitude of his weather-board hut all the more dreary.

The next day and yet the next we returned to our gloomy skating ground, and when I turned round in my saddle as we rode away on Friday evening, for a last look at Lake Ida lying behind us in her winter black numbness, her aspect seemed more forbidding than ever, for only the bare steep hill-sides could be seen; the pine forest and white distant mountains were all blotted and blurred out of sight by a heavy pall of cloud creeping slowly up.
"Let us ride fast," cried Mr.K----, "or we shall have a sou'-wester upon us;" so we galloped home as quickly as we could, over ground that I don't really believe I could summon courage to walk across, ever so slowly, to-day,--but then one's nerves and courage are in very different order out in New Zealand to the low standard which rules for ladies in England, who "live at home in ease!" Long before we reached home the storm was pelting us: my little jacket was like a white board when I took it off, for the sleet and snow had frozen as it fell.