We treasure our ladies, because they are so rare among us in the bush. Good creatures they are, these settler's wives. How kind and benevolent they are to us, to be sure! And how they do delight to "boss" us about! But we like it, we enjoy it, we revel in it. We would lay ourselves down for them to trample on us, and be truly grateful for the attention. That is our loyal feeling towards the married ladies resident in the district. Conceive, if you can, how much more extravagant is our gallantry when certain other persons are in question--young ladies whom the irreverent covertly term "husband-hunters!" Those good lady dwellers in the bush--how it does delight them to promote the matrimonial felicity of others! How they do enjoy matchmaking! Every settler's wife, so soon as she has got over the exclusiveness of honeymoon happiness, does her best to induce her girl friends from the city to come and visit her. She is so lonely, she says--poor thing! No one but her husband, and his neighbours and workmen; her devoted slaves every one of them, but still, all rough men, you know. She pines for a companion of her own sex. Oh yes; very much so! It would be a charity, indeed, if dear Ada or Fanny would come and stay with her a bit. Dear Ada or Fanny is only too glad of the opportunity. She did want to see what the bush was like, for she has never been out of Auckland yet, except a trip to the hot lakes, or so. In fact, her school-days are scarcely over yet. And then she is so sorry for her friend's loneliness. It must be dreadful to be isolated in the bush like that. She will certainly come and see her. So Miss Ada or Fanny packs up her box. Sweet, amiable creature! She flies to alleviate her friend's hard lot. She constrains her inclinations, and sets out bravely for the bush, solely at friendship's call; for, of course, there is no _arriere pensee_ in her mind. Oh no; how could there be? The young lady was not considered exactly a belle in the city, perhaps; but the bush receives her as an incarnation of Venus herself. Directly she gets beyond the confines of the city, into the rough, primitive, and inchoate wilderness, she finds herself elevated to a rank she never knew before. Coach-drivers, steamboat-captains, hotel-keepers treat her with a deference and attention that is quite captivating, rude examples of male humanity though they may be. Some settler is introduced, or introduces himself, who is travelling too. He will be delighted, honoured, to be permitted to act as her escort. Perhaps he has been deputed by her parents, or by her friend, to look after her. Whether or no, he almost suffocates with importance if she graciously accords him permission to act as her courier and footman.