But next summer was better, and  one morning in early Autumn,  Henry Reynolds said,"Let's go and see what Josiah Firth is doing at Matamata. The 'New Zea1and Herald' says he has imported a machine from California to reap his wheat.  We'll take John Primrose with us because he has developed a real flair for machines."
So early one morning the three set out  to ride to Taupiri, where the train took them over the newly-opened railway to Cambridge. Here they were able to hire horses, and they rode along the rand Josiah Firth and his men had constructed in 1868, when the Hauhaus had refused to allow him to use the river to bring the grass seed that he thought was so important for his new pasture.
"Old J.F. knew how to build a road," commented Mrs. Reynolds, after a gallop that left her blood dancing and her eyes sparkling, but soon they could see "The Towers", and steadied down to a more sober pace. Josiah's second son was managing the 55,000 acre Matamata estate, and the travelers were welcomed with all the glad hospitality of the times.
John Primrose was indeed interested in the California header drawn by four horses, and cutting a width of 12 feet. "Using machines to take the hardest work out of  farming is really good sense," he remarked, "but the cost of these machines is quite out of reach of the ordinary man. That's where the big estates have the advantage."  Never-the-less an idea was formed, and it was not many years before John Primrose and his father were able lo buy a steam-driven thresher which horses pulled from farm to farm and for many years all the wheat and most of the oats threshed round Hami1ton was done by Primrose and Son.
Everyone gravitated towards the stables; the well-kept teams of draught horses were admired, the carriage ponies were dellightful, but  all were impresnerl by Mr. Firth's favourite, big, black "Merry-1egs", who had cheerfully carried his master on the long journey through bogs and tracks almost unmarked, to Auckland.
"I don't need to ride now the railway has opened," said Josiah, "but I always enjoy riding this horse of mine. I don't think there's a horse in the Waikato who would give you a better ride."
Mrs. Reynolds was keenly interested in the lovely garden, and soon her hostees had collected quite a bundle of cuttings and seeds to give her. 
"Woodlands is so cold that I can't grow anything that is frost tender at all," Mrs. Reynolds said. "You know, on two or three mornings this winter, the wire on the clothes line was as thick as rny wrist with the hoar frost."
"You usually get a good day after a frost, though," said her hostess.
"Not at Woodlands. We just get fogs! Especially when someone has been burning off the manuka, and the peat smoke is worse still because it seems to get into all the cracks in the house."


"Woodlands"

Sometimes the road was a little better and they made good progress.

The other lady laughed, and took her friend to see a little shrub sheltered with sacking. "This is my new camelia," she said, "have you one?"
Mrs. Reynolds admired the beautiful pink flowers.
"Yes," she said, "One of the first things I put in was a camelia. It's coming on nicely, too. Our new Horticultural Club in Hamilton is holding its first show in March next year (1885) and I hope to have some dahlias to put in. My roses are doing well but there isn't a class for them. I think we will put in our tobacco - it's grown well this year."
"Then Woodlands can grow something after all."
 "Perhaps," answered Mrs. Reynolds rather grudgingly, "but it's got to be sheltered or the Sou'westerly creates havoc."
"Trees, trees, and more trees." rejoined Mr. Firth coming up to the ladies. "It is only as we plant trees that we can control the winds and make the Waikato a pleasant place to live in."
Mr. Reynolds agreed, and told how busy he had been planting plantations of oaks, willows and laurels to shelter the homestead, and of course pines and macrocarpas which seemed to be growing exceptionally fast.
He was especially interested in the management of the apiary. Practically every home, even in the township, had its own hive or two, but here were 173 colonies! "I don't like our manuka honey much." he told Isaac Hopkins who managed the apiary. "It is very dark, but I noticed that yours is almost as good as what we get in Cornwall. What do you feed them on?"
"Well, there's about 10 acres of orchard here," replied Isaac, "but we have a large area growing extra food for them too, sage, spider plant, catnip, giant mignonette and of course, rosemary and bee-balm."
The Reynolds' resolved to plant more of the herbs especially for the bees, and John Primrose was also given cuttings to put by his bee hives.
As they walked through the orchard, Mr. Reynolds observed, "Your peach trees look alright. Do you know the tragedy that happened to all the peach trees in the Waikato in 1879? They came into flower alright, then the new leaves turned pink and dropped off and soon the trees were dead. It must have been particularly hard on the Maori folk who used to sell so many peaches. I noticed the other day that the tawa trees seem to be getting the same blight."
"That will be a tragedy too," observed Mr. Firth. "The tawa trees are needed to fire the kilns to make bricks."
After dinner at night, the farmers talked of their prospects, as farmers the world over do whenever they meet.
"I'm sending 2,000 carcasses of mutton directly to the Old Country in the "Aorangi" early in the new year," said Mr.Firth. "There's room for 7,000 but the space isn't all booked yet."
"This refrigeration is a marvellous invention," said Mr. Reynolds, "but I think we've got to do something about the way our stuff is handled in London."
"Henry's on his hobby horse," murmured Mrs. Reynolds; and she and her friend turned away to discuss the latest fashions in a magazine she had just received from London.
"Our frozen mutton's only returning a profit of one to two pence a pound. It should be much more! And why should our butter and cheese sell in London at less than Danish? I'll tell you why!" and he thumped the table in his excitement. "It arrives there in perfect condition, but it isn't looked after properly afterwards. I had a letter from my cousin in London the other day, and she said that she bought some N.Z. cheese and it was quite bad. No one will buy our goods if they are not marketed properly."
In spite of a very real shortage of money, especially in the homes of the soldiers who had managed to stay on their allotments, there were many farmers who still went about their tasks with high hopes andfdreams of the future. For Henry Reynolds, apart from the managing of the big estate, there always seemed something to plan, or something to discuss, and Woodlands was so out of the way.
"Daddy's never at home," complained his little daughter one morning when she found that her father had not returned from a meeting in Hamilton the previous day. So his family were glad when he resigned his position of manager of the N.Z. Land Association's Waikato estate, and bought 1,600 acres at Newstead for his home, so that he could continue his experiments with a milking herd.
On 3rd. November 1886 at Pukekura, he opened the first separator butter factory in the North Island,.
"We've made nearly 100 pounds of butter today," said the manager, David Gummel, an American who had worked in the young butter-making industry in his own country,. Henry Reynolds, Captain Runciman and Isaac Coates were all there to see the "Anchor" brand stamped on this important product.
"Some day 'Anchor' butter will be sold everywhere in the Old Country, not just in London," said Henry, though others were not so optimistic.

References:
Rushes ‘an Raupo, To cows an’ Clover by Edith Williamson