Suddenly, from the river below them, rises the melancholy and discordant clamour of our performance. Quickly, the voices of the night awake in earnest protest against it. Roosting shags and waterfowl fly screaming away. In the swamp a bittern booms; and strange wailing cries come from the depths of the bush. On the farm dogs bark energetically, cattle bellow, horses neigh, sheep bleat, pigs grunt, ducks quack, and turkeys gobble. Frightful is the din that goes echoing among the woods. And then the outraged bridegroom gets out his gun, and commences rapid file-firing in our direction. But nothing daunts us, or makes us flinch from our fell purpose. Perspiring from every pore, we labour manfully on to the bitter end. Cornet and clarionet strive for the mastery, the flutes tootle along in the rear, the violins screech and squeal, the horn brays with force and fury, and Old Colonial pounds at his drum as if he were driving piles. Not until the last notes of "God Save the Queen" have been duly murdered do we cease; then, breathless and exhausted, we row down river on our homeward way, rejoicing in the performance of a meritorious deed. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 5: A species of _Blatta_, or cockroach, called by entomologists _Polyzosteria Novae Zealandiae_.] CHAPTER VII. OUR PIONEER FARM. I. Of course, all farms are not the same, even in the North. Nevertheless, there is a good deal of similarity in the work that has to be got through at the outset. The modifications in it are various, consisting in the character of the land, the amount of capital available, the labour employed, and so forth. But, generally speaking, most settlers must go through pretty much what we did before they get the wilderness reclaimed into an orderly farm. People who commence with plenty of capital have naturally a great advantage. They can employ more labourers, and get the first operations over more quickly. But, more than that, they are not hampered by the necessity of making a living as they go along. They can afford to wait until the farm is in thorough working order before they expect any returns from it. Not many of this class have settled in the North. When a man has large capital, his chief idea is sheep or cattle. And he is not impressed with the notion of making a home, but with the desire to make a great pot. So, if he comes to New Zealand, he goes South as a general thing, and leases a vast run of natural pasturage. In ten or twenty years he has made his pile, and gives up farming altogether. Then he either goes home, or settles down in one of our cities. We were circumstanced very differently from that. When we made up our minds to work for ourselves, instead of acting as labourers to others, we were not blessed with much capital. Our joint purse contained just enough, as we calculated, and it did not contain more. But our notion was to make ourselves a comfortable home, primarily, though, of course, we had our golden dreams as well.