After nearly two hours riding, upon their arrival at the desired goal, the scene that presented itself to their view, was pleasing and charmingly picturesque. Facing the party, and extending in either direction for a considerable distance, was a ridge or range forming a natural terrace, rising from eighty to a hundred feet almost perpendicularly. It was literally covered with bush of various descriptions, from the dwarfish wattle to the lofty gum, and iron bark; presenting to each other, in their various tints of foliage, a relieving contrast of colour. From the very midst of this, the fall emerged; and after tumbling over a few impediments in its way, through which it seemed vainly endeavouring to force a passage, it made a leap of about sixty feet; and formed as pretty a little cascade as could be imagined.

The party stopped at the head of the creek, where they obtained a good view of the falls; and were perfectly enraptured with the scene, which, though in itself was but ordinary, had an influence, in the circumstances under which they were assembled, in directing their minds into a pleased and contented channel. Besides, there was a novelty in such scenery in Australia; and humble as the pretensions of the falls might have been to the picturesque, in the eyes of an English tourist, John Ferguson, who had rarely, and Eleanor Rainsfield, who had never seen anything like it, could not help admiring the beauty of the landscape. Our friends soon selected a spot for their camp; in fact, the spot had already been chosen by their harbingers, who had fixed upon a little rising knoll on the bank of the creek, a short distance below the falls; of which they commanded an excellent view. Here the party dismounted, and leaving the horses to the care of the men, they discussed the nature of their further proceedings; while the ladies arranged their equestrian habiliments, so as not to incommode them in their walking. Then putting all things in order for their luncheon, and requesting the men to boil some water (on a fire the fellows had kindled), for the purpose of making that universal beverage in the bush, without which no meal would be considered complete; Mrs. Rainsfield proposed to the gentlemen that they should take a walk up to the falls, and see if the ascent of the range was practicable, and if so, what sort of a prospect there was from the summit.

The suggestion was instantly acted upon; and after thoroughly surveying the falls, from every point of view at its foot, Tom was despatched to attempt the ascent; while the rest in the meantime sat down on the grass, to await his return. This, however, was not until some time had elapsed; and when he did make his appearance, he stated that the range could be mounted; but he would not advise them to try it, as the hill abounded with snakes. He then hurriedly informed them, that he had come down for a gun, which he had noticed one of the men had brought with him; and was going to return to shoot a reptile that had impeded his progress. Mrs. Rainsfield desired him to stay, saying she was sure the snake would not have waited for his return; but he only laughed and assured her that he would certainly find it upon his return, and bring it to her as a trophy. He then dashed away, and was seen in a few minutes, posting up the acclivity with the gun in his hand ready for execution.

"What a stupid fellow that is," remarked Mrs. Rainsfield, "to be running away from us to kill a snake, and perhaps incur the risk of getting bitten by another. While he was here, and it was not safe for us to go up, he might as well have remained."

We will not follow the conversation that ensued; but merely state that after some minutes had elapsed, as the party began to expect the return of Tom disappointed of his game, a shot was heard, and after a few moments another; upon which Mrs. Rainsfield remarked, "I suppose we shall soon see our snake-hunter now, and see what sport he has had. If he does not produce some trophy, we must give him no peace; but here he comes." At which moment Tom Rainsfield presented himself, and threw down before his friends the bodies of two green snakes; which we may here remark are a kind extremely dangerous, from the difficulty of detecting them, owing to their colour so much resembling that of the foliage of the trees or grass. The ladies instantly jumped up from their sitting posture with a scream; but perceiving that the snakes were no longer dangerous, they were speedily reassured, and demanded to hear the adventure which had resulted in their destruction. This Tom promised to tell them, after he had submitted his hands to a slight ablution in the creek; and accordingly did so as they retraced their steps to the camp; and we, to enlighten the reader on the subject, will follow him succinctly in his own words.

"I managed," said he, "to get up the face of the range with some difficulty, for it was awfully steep; but though I succeeded in reaching the top, I had little or nothing for my trouble; for beyond an expanse of bush, there was absolutely no view. It is true I could just obtain a glimpse of 'the hill,' and the windings of the river at various bends, but that was all; and the prospect was certainly not worth the trouble of reaching the elevation to obtain. I was soon satisfied with its contemplation; and turned to come down, which, if not convenient or safe, was certainly easy and expeditious; for I had continually to hold on by one of the overhanging branches of the smaller trees, and either slide, jump, or precipitate myself down steeps and over perpendicular rocks. In making one of these little exploits, I lost my footing by dislodging a large stone; which, but for the grasp I had of the stout bough of a tree, I should certainly have followed. However, I saved myself; and watching the stone in its downward progress, as it went bounding along, taking others with it in its descent, and crushing the small bushes in its passage; I saw, or fancied I saw, a large green snake suddenly dart out of its way, and up into a tree. I kept my eye on the tree until I got down to it; and then minutely inspected every branch, as well as I could with my simple vision, but could see nothing. I then thought I might have been mistaken, but at the same time, could hardly believe my eyes had been deceived. The tree was only a young sapling, and could be bent with ease; so to satisfy myself, I determined to try if my friend was a myth, or a genuine snake, which had really taken up his quarters in the sheltering boughs above my head. With this intent I took its stem in my double grasp, and gave it a shake, the like of which I am certain it never had since it became a tree; it was enough to shake the very ghost out of it, and had the effect of displacing my verdant friend, who dropt at my very feet. He did not exactly know what to make of it, though he did not wait long to consider, for he soon twisted off, and darted into another tree rather larger than the first."

"I then looked out for a good-sized-stick, to touch him up with when he next visited terra firma; and for the purpose of discovering his position, and compelling his immediate capitulation, I besieged the tree with stones. He was not long in giving me indication of his locale, for I soon distinguished him, coiled round a branch almost at its extreme end; with his head and about a foot of his body protruding. I continued to pelt him; and he to dart his head at me, thrusting out his tongue and hissing fearfully, as much as to say, 'If I only could, wouldn't I, hat's all.' I twice or thrice shook him in his position, but could not dislodge him; for he had got himself too firmly coiled round the bough: then I thought of our fellow's gun. I knew the snake was too frightened to leave his place for some time; so I discontinued the discharge of my missiles, took my note of the tree, came down for the fowling-piece, returned to the scene of battle; and then commenced another pelting, to ascertain if the reptile had retained his post. Sure enough it was there, for the head soon made itself visible; but strange to say from quite a different part of the tree. I imagined from this, that the beast must have removed in my absence; but I was mistaken, for I soon detected my friend in his old place, and perceived that I had got a pair of beauties to deal with. I was aware that the snakes usually go in pairs; but having seen the first one mount the tree alone, I never dreamt of his having a mate, which I suppose must have joined him while I was away. However, I soon made short work of the two; for I shot them one after the other, and they dropt down as quietly as possible; while I gave them each a crack on the head, to knock out any sense that might have remained, and then laid them, like a dutiful gallant, at your feet."

"You were certainly very gracious, but we could have well dispensed with that piece of gallantry," replied his sister-in-law; "however, we forgive you: and now for our repast."

The repast was soon spread on a cloth on the grass; and the party sat down to its discussion in the highest glee, which was maintained during the meal's continuance. Theirs was the cup "which cheers, but not inebriates;" and they indulged in their merriments and pleasantries, without the aid of those stimulants which create an excitement at the expense of health, both corporeal and mental. After the conclusion of their tiffin, Mrs. Rainsfield proposed a walk down the bank of the creek, to collect a few of the wild flowers she had noticed when coming up; and leaving the man in attendance to pack up the things, and have their horses ready for them in about half an hour or so, they sauntered along the stream.



CHAPTER XI.

"My genius whispers me Go on and win her,—for there's nought That's more unsteadfast than a woman's thought."

COOKE.

"There lies the sore point, which will brook no handling."

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

John and Eleanor, followed by Mrs. Rainsfield and Tom, commenced their gathering of the forest's blossoms, and sauntered on without any seeming interest in their occupation; for their thoughts were otherwise centred. Eleanor would walk by the side of her companion, supporting her part for some minutes at a stretch, in a spirited and lively conversation; ever and anon directing her lovely eyes to the features of John; while he, in ecstasies with the warmth of her manner, returned the glance with redoubled tenderness; and with the force of his ardent and inspiring conversation communicated the blush of pleasure to her cheek.

Thus they walked on for some time quite absorbed in themselves, until they found they had got considerably in advance of their companions; so much so, that they could not even see them. Upon this discovery, John suggested that their friends might have slightly deviated from the track; allured, perhaps, into the bush by something that might have attracted their attention, and were possibly not far off. He therefore proposed that Eleanor and himself should sit down and wait until they overtook them; but to this his companion was unwilling to agree. He however combatted her opinion that they had returned, and that it would be better for herself and him to retrace their steps also, by saying that Mrs. Rainsfield would never turn back without first giving them intimation; and that by retracing their steps then, they would possibly miss, and give one another a good deal of trouble and uneasiness, in a mutual search. Whether this advice was agreeable or not to Eleanor, we cannot say, but she silently complied; and sat down by his side, as he threw himself on the grass.

John, at this moment, became absorbed with thoughts that entirely subverted his former cheerfulness. The circumstances of his situation presented themselves to his mind's eye in full force; and suggested, as their solitude had very opportunely afforded him the means of declaring to Eleanor the feelings uppermost in his thoughts, and which he had so long burned to disclose, that he should not allow it to slip. But his heart failed within him, as he was on the point of giving utterance to his love; and though it spoke volumes, his tongue failed to articulate a sound. Thus they sat for some minutes, when Eleanor broke the silence by remarking, "What can have become of those truants?" and recieving no reply from her companion, directed an enquiring gaze to his face.

In that countenance, where she used to witness animation and spirit, she now only detected profound abstraction, and a vision directed fixedly into space. She contemplated the features for some few moments; and then, while she laid her hand upon John's shoulder, addressed him with the enquiry, "May I participate in the pleasure of your thoughts, Mr. Ferguson? they must be deeply interesting, for they seem to have engrossed your entire attention."

John started at the sound of Eleanor's voice, and awaking from his reverie, while he siezed in his fevered grasp the hand of his companion, replied: "Indeed you may, my dear Eleanor (pardon my familiarity); your sweet voice has broken the spell; and if you experience pleasure from a recital of my thoughts, I shall indeed be the happiest mortal on earth. When I say I love you, Eleanor, I convey but a shadow of what I inwardly feel; it has long been my one consuming fire; you, and you alone, are the object of my warmest and tenderest affections. Your kind and sweet excellence first won my regard, and I early learnt to cherish your image as my soul's talisman and idol; but ere I had an opportunity of breathing in your ear the nature of the fire that consumed me, my hopes were blighted. I learnt from your cousin the existence of an engagement that has stamped my spirit with despair; and though I have striven to forget you, save as a dear friend, and have almost driven myself frantic in the struggle, yet it is without success. At a time, when I had almost banished from my memory the existence of my passion, some passing object would reflect your image in the mirror of my mind, and would render me almost demented with the thought that your charms were destined to bless some other one. Oh, say my angel! can that be? Is it possible your troth is plighted to another? Pray, speak; my destiny hangs upon your answer. Say but that you bid me hope; that you will not reject me; anything rather than discard or banish me from your presence, without the chance of catching one ray of the sunshine of your smile."

John then paused, and gently removing the hand that attempted to conceal her face, in a more subdued tone he continued, "You weep; I have been wild, I have agitated you. Oh, hear me, Eleanor! be but mine, and I need not tell you I will cherish you above all earthly prizes. I already love you to distraction; I would thenceforth live but for thee. You are silent; you do not reciprocate my feeling. Oh, this torture! Utter my doom, for I can bear it. I see it is as I feared; you are engaged to another. Oh! speak, Eleanor, is it not so?"

"It is, sir," uttered a voice that made both parties start, and that put an end to John's declaration. "She is engaged to me, and if she will not say it herself, I will for her; and at the same time I have to intimate to you, that since I have discovered your pretensions, I do not intend to permit them to go unpunished, unless you instantly quit the lady's side;" and the speaker, Bob Smithers, flourished his whip in a menacing attitude, as he stalked up to the couple, who had now risen.

"As to you and your threats," replied John Ferguson, "I both equally scorn to notice. Since you have chosen to act the part of eavesdropper, you have certainly overheard our conversation; but my question was directed to Miss Rainsfield, not to you; therefore, I decline recognising your interference. If Miss Rainsfield desires me to leave her presence, I will do so instantly, and—

"Oh, no, no, Mr. Ferguson," sobbed Eleanor, "don't leave me with that—with Mr. Smithers."

"I would not leave you, but in the care of your friends," replied John; and then continuing his remark to Smithers, he said, "and if I hear, from her own lips, that she acknowledges her engagement to you, from the respect which I entertain for her, I will at once withdraw my pretensions."

"Ask her," exclaimed Smithers; "let her answer for herself."

"Is it so, Miss Rainsfield?" asked our dejected hero; "make no scruple of answering, for fear of giving me pain, I am perfectly inured to its trials."

Poor Eleanor essayed to speak, but she could not; her heart was too full for utterance, and she covered her face with her hands, and burst into tears.

"Speak, Eleanor," cried Smithers, "and tell him, whether or not you are engaged to me."

Eleanor took her hands from her face, and with an effort, which cost her her consciousness, exclaimed, "I am;" and immediately sank to the ground insensible. John stooped to raise her prostrate form, but was rudely pushed on one side by his opponent; who exclaimed, with an oath, that "he would knock him down if he dared to lay a finger on the lady."

"At any other time," cried John, "and under any other circumstances, I would have resented your insult in a manner that would have given you cause to remember me; at present, however, I shall consider you beneath even my contempt. This young lady was entrusted to my protection by her own family, who are not far distant; so touch me again at your peril;" saying which he advanced, and lifted the inanimate form of his beloved Eleanor.

"What is the meaning of this?" cried Mrs. Rainsfield, as she burst upon the scene. "What, Eleanor fainted?" and she flew to the assistance of her cousin, who under her sympathetic administration speedily exhibited signs of returning consciousness. Then having time to address herself to the parties about her, Mrs. Rainsfield at once turned to Smithers, and in a voice, and with a look of scorn, said: "I perceive you, sir, are the cause of this, which is in perfect keeping with your usual barbarity. I request you will instantly remove from our presence; as I have no desire, that my cousin's nerves should be again shocked, by either the recollection of the past, or the recurrence of future attrocities; both of which are entailed by your presence."

"For that speech, madam," exclaimed Smithers, "you may thank yourself you wear the female garb, or, by heaven! I would give you good cause to repent it."

"I am well aware of it, sir," replied the lady, "if your courage permitted, you would attempt it; and even woman as I am, I doubt not, you would not hesitate the application of your whip, were it not for the restraining influence of these gentlemen present. But go, sir; we wish no parley."

"The advisableness of that motion, madam," said Smithers, "I will reserve to myself the right to decide. I am the most interested in the young lady, who seems so much affected; resulting, I presume, from my having detected her in a position with that gentleman (scowling at John) which not only reflects impropriety on her, but discredit to you."

"That, sir," almost shrieked the now exasperated lady, "you have no right to affirm. We, as her relations, are the best judges of her conduct, as well as our own; and if Miss Rainsfield is objectionable to you, I have no doubt she will at once exonerate you from your engagement. But I have to request that you leave us; for the instant Miss Rainsfield sufficiently recovers to walk, we will remove from the spot; and you need not flatter yourself you'll be permitted to follow us."

"You considerably over-estimate your own attractions, madam," replied Smithers; "and the merits of your friends, if you imagine they are sufficiently seductive to induce me to deviate from my path by following your steps. But I am neither disposed to forgo my claim on Miss Rainsfield, nor to permit the pretensions of any other suitor."

How long this controversy would have lasted, it is difficult to say, had not Tom attempted to persuade Smithers to leave them; and Eleanor, who at the same time opened her eyes, begged him, in a voice and look of entreaty to depart, promising to explain the circumstances to him at some other time. He then turned away into the bush, and joined a man who appeared to be his companion, but whom they had not before noticed; while the party retraced their steps to the camp, and were soon on their way home. The feelings that agitated their various breasts, we will leave the reader to conjecture; merely stating that they so operated, as to cause the journey to be performed almost in silence. When they reached Strawberry Hill, Eleanor at once proceeded to her chamber, and in her privacy gave vent to the feelings that overpowered her in a flood of tears; while John, very much subdued in spirit, almost immediately took his departure, accompanied by Tom Rainsfield.

We may now explain the sudden appearance of Bob Smithers, when he so unceremoniously interrupted the tete-a-tete of John and Eleanor. He had been accompanied by a man (to whom he was attempting to sell a run on the Gibson, below Fern Vale) to show him the country; and in returning, having taken the route by which he would cross the Wombi at the upper flat on the Dingo plains a little below the falls, he accidentally caught the sound of voices as he approached the river, and being curious to know from whence they emanated, he rode with his companion towards the spot. When he came sufficiently close to see what we have already described, he could hardly believe his eyes; for he instantly recognised John Ferguson, though the lady who was listening to his appeal, he could not so readily detect. That it must be Eleanor Rainsfield he did not doubt, though how she came in such company, and in such a place, he could not imagine, and could hardly reconcile to his belief. He, however, listened, and when he caught her name uttered by her prostrate suitor, his rage at the discovery was unbounded. Yet his inquisitiveness to hear more, and know how she received the addresses, overcame for the moment, the first impulse of his malevolence; and kept him silent until the moment, when he dismounted from his horse, we have seen him appear on the scene.

After parting from the Rainsfields, he altered his determination of going home direct; and arranging with his companion to meet him at Brompton on the following day, he dashed his spurs into his horse's flanks; and being impelled by the excitement of a jealous frenzy and malice, he pulled up at Strawberry Hill a full hour before the pic-nic party made their appearance; and instantly sought an interview with Mr. Rainsfield.

Not finding him in the house, Bob Smithers commenced a search; and soon distinguished his voice in high altercation with some one, as he approached the door of the store, where he overheard the following dialogue.

"I tell you again, you are an old fool; you knew perfectly well that I never permit these villainous black scoundrels to come near my premises; and yet you encourage this fellow to the place, and allow him to purloin my property through your want of attention. I would not care a snuff, were it not that I have taken considerable pains to keep them aloof: and I know very well that if they are allowed to return, I shall never be safe from their depredations; and this from your infernal idiotcy and madness."

"You will pardon me, Mr. Rainsfield," replied a voice, which distinguished its owner as Mr. Billing, "it grieves me to be under the necessity of contradicting you; but, sir, I really must be permitted to differ from you, in your expressed opinion of an aberration of my intellect. I am proud to state, sir, that I have been ordained by the Almighty with the full and unimpaired use of my faculties; I can readily, sir, however, make allowance for the ebullition of your feelings; but must most distinctly beg to inform you, sir, that you labour under a misapprehension with regard to my sanity; for I may say in the language of the immortal bard,

"My pulse as yours doth temperately keep time."

"Bosh!" ejaculated the other, "a truce to your trash; you sicken me with your fastidiousness; and if you are not mad yourself, you are likely to drive me so. No one unless afflicted with sheer insanity, would allow that black fellow into the store; and then above all things leave him in it. There isn't the slightest use in your attempting to excuse yourself, for you can't improve matters: you are a perfect nuisance in the place; and I declare if it were not for your family, I would not be bothered with your continual absurdities."

"I really conceive myself flattered, sir, by your good opinion of my valuable services; but doubt not, if they were as insignificant as you profess my manner of performing them is distasteful to you, you would ere this have dispensed with them. But, Mr. Rainsfield, you will excuse my freedom, in defending myself against your imputations on my capacity; you must know, sir, that I have been connected with one of the first houses in London, the firm of Billing, Barlow, & Co., of Thames Street; and but for the unfortunate circumstance, of my having allowed myself to be allured to this country, by the glowing accounts of designing men, I should, sir, have still been in the enjoyment of comfortable means, if not of opulence. My experience therefore, sir, has been such as to warrant my assertion; and I utter it, I assure you, sir, without egotism, but merely as the result of a practical mercantile life; that I am sufficiently conversant with business, to undertake the management of any establishment; even, I may add, sir, without disparagement to you, one of greater magnitude than Strawberry Hill; and also—

"For goodness sake, stop that trash; what on earth has all that got to do with your permitting the black to enter the store, which is supposed to be under your charge, and for the contents of which you are responsible?"

"I was about to explain that point, sir, when you interrupted me; but my first consideration was to establish my good fame, from the imputation cast upon it by you; which imputation, I am fain to believe, was uttered in a moment of hastiness; and which, after I have explained the circumstances of the case, you will be happy to retract. However, sir, permit me to continue. The black, I have every reason to believe, is in the service of Mr. Ferguson at Fern Vale; for he came over this morning, while you were absent at the bridge, with a message for that gentleman from his overseer; and knowing him to be on an excursion with the ladies, and thinking he would be back about mid-day, I advised him, sir, to delay his return to the station, until he had seen his master. Hence, you see, sir, his presence on the station was perfectly justifiable. With regard to his peccancy I will not attempt, sir, to offer any palliation beyond the expression of my belief, that the tobacco was taken without any notion of the offence he was committing; in proof of which, I may mention, sir, the absence of any concealment on his part, when you came to the store. It was natural, sir, he should follow me about the place, from my having advised him to stay until the arrival of his master; and I, having occasion to go to the store, he accompanied me there; and being suddenly called away, sir, I inadvertently perhaps, left the door open and him inside. Then, it appears, he appropriated the tobacco you found in his hand, and had I returned before you came up, I should have as readily perceived, and as soon induced him to deliver it. If I might venture, sir, to express an opinion, I would say, at most, the offence is a paltry one, and could well be left unnoticed; more especially as he is, as I have premised, a servant of Mr. Ferguson."

"Do you think that is any reason why the scoundrel should escape?" exclaimed Rainsfield. "When Mr. Ferguson knows as much about them as I do, he will likewise exclude them from his place. I have been at considerable pains at keeping them at a distance, and do not intend to let them be emboldened by the success of this scoundrel; which would necessarily be the case were he to escape scathless. He shall be punished, and that speedily and effectually."

At this point of the discussion Bob Smithers joined the disputants, and having been an unseen listener to these objurgations; and, having a natural antipathy to the blacks, and a vindictive desire to annoy his lately discovered rival, had a corresponding inclination to support Mr. Rainsfield's determination to punish the captive.

"Your arrival, Smithers," said the other, as Bob entered the store, "is very opportune. I have just discovered a blackguardly black fellow stealing tobacco, and it appears from my storekeeper's account, he is a servant of Mr. Ferguson. What would you propose we should do with him?"

"I would say flog him," replied Smithers; "take him into the bush, so that his voice cannot be heard at the house, and tie him up to a tree; give him a taste of the stock-whip, and send him home to his master, with a request that if he takes a fancy to the brutes, he either keeps them on his run, or teaches them to exhibit better propensities when they visit his neighbours."

"A capital idea, by Jove! Smithers," exclaimed Rainsfield; "we will certainly give him a tickling. I have got a fellow on the station that would cut a piece clean out of the hide of a bullock with his stock-whip. I will get him to manipulate; and I calculate, our darkie here will not trouble us with his presence again." As he said this he joined his companion in a burst of merriment at the wonder depicted in the countenance of their almost unconscious victim, who evidently anticipated rough usage, though perfectly ignorant of the nature of the sentence passed upon him. Rainsfield then called one of the men, and directed him to get Smith, the stock-man, to take the black fellow into the bush for a few hundred yards, and tie him up to a tree with his back bared, and take a stock-whip with him, and await the coming of himself and Mr. Smithers.

"You surely, gentlemen, do not intend putting your threat into execution," cried Billing, who was standing amazed at the coolness of their preparations. "I appeal, sir, to your sense of honour, to your love of justice, to your charitableness, to induce you to desist from the perpetration of so vile an outrage on humanity. How can you punish, sirs, with such severity a poor, ignorant black, whose offence has been so trifling, that no honourable man would notice it? Besides, gentlemen, I maintain it is unjust to punish a poor aboriginal for an action in which he perceives or knows no wrong. If you persist in the fulfilment of this barbarity, and violation of your charge as Justices of the Peace, let your own consciences be your accusers."

The result of this harangue was only the production of an inordinate burst of laughter from both Rainsfield and Smithers; who, without any further notice of the philanthropic storekeeper, than a forcible request from the latter to visit certain regions, the utterance of which would be unpleasant to ears polite, they followed the men to the place of punishment.

We will not accompany them to witness this scene, the disgusting and unfeeling nature of which we cannot sufficiently condemn, but merely state that for some minutes the air was rent by the shrieks of the victim; while the two gentlemen and J.P. watched the process, and then returned arm in arm to the house in high glee. Upon reaching the domicile, and discovering that the pic-nic party had come back, Smithers drew his companion away, and told him he wished to have a few minutes conversation with him privately; whereupon Rainsfield, first ascertaining that Eleanor had retired to bed, that his wife was with her, and that his brother and Ferguson had gone to Fern Vale, returned with his companion to the store: in which they locked themselves. What was the nature of their conversation we can pretty correctly conjecture; as also, no doubt, can our readers. It will, therefore, be unnecessary for us to trespass on their privacy; to the full enjoyment of which we will leave them.



CHAPTER XII.

"Then come, my sister! come, I pray, With speed put on your woodland dress."

WORDSWORTH.

Before William had been long at Acacia Creek he began to experience the impatience of his sister in her incessant promptings to commence his journey; and, notwithstanding that he knew their house could not be ready for her reception for some time, he was constrained to submit to Kate's desire to enter at once upon her probationary visit. Their arrangements were soon made, and the young lady was not the last who was ready for the start; her mind was not troubled with a superfluity of apparel, or an infinity of boxes. We cannot say if she was peculiar to her sex in this respect, but certain it is she did not hesitate to make the journey without the legion of packages which are usually the concomitants of travelling ladies. All her paraphernalia was comfortably settled on the back of a pack-horse, while her general effects were left to be forwarded to her brother's station as opportunity offered.

That Kate Ferguson left her father's house without regret we do not believe; but her mind was so taken up with the thoughts of her domestic importance, and she was so absorbed with the arrangements in perspective, that she entirely forgot the fact that she was leaving, perhaps for ever, her parent's roof; and was about to commence a life subjected to dangers and inconveniences, which she, even native born though she was, was totally unacquainted with. With her parents, however, it was far different; for they had been fully informed by John what sort of a place it was their daughter was going to. Her father, to say nothing of the regret which he felt in parting with his child, experienced some remorse in consigning her to the discomfort of a wild and unsettled country. At the same time he was convinced she would be under good protection, and reconciled himself to the separation by the thought that probably the responsibility of managing the domestic establishment of her brothers would, in a great measure, prepare her for a more permanent station in life; and, in fact, rub off the lingering signs of childhood, and perfect her in a womanly capacity.

The feelings which agitated the breast of her mother, when she parted with her darling daughter, we cannot pretend to describe. We know that maternals usually give indications of unbounded grief at parting from their tender offspring, even upon the consummation of their earthly happiness. It may possibly arise from grief at the segregation of one not only made dear by the ties of parental and filial affection, but from the mutual companionship, reliance, and confidence that exist between mother and daughter; possibly it may be for the trials and dangers that beset the young creatures' paths in the commencement of their independent career; or, there may be an alloy of selfishness in the feeling. But certain it is, it is one of the mysteries of the female character; which, though to us inexplicable, we revere; and, consequently, we sympathize with, and respect the ebullition of Mrs. Ferguson's grief, as she wept over her charming daughter, when the young and inexperienced girl was about leaving her protection. Many were her parental admonitions to Kate for her guidance and good, and numerous her injunctions to William for her care and preservation. Never was there a kinder-hearted affectionate parent than this, and never were brother and sister more fondly attached. The mother knowing this, and confident that her son William would, if necessary, offer himself a self-immolated victim, sooner than any evil should happen to his charge, felt little apprehension for her daughter's safety.

The travelling party, consisting of Kate, her brother, and Mr. Wigton, were shortly on the road, and journeyed till night without the occurrence of any event worth recording; until, as darkness closed o'er the landscape, they entered the town of Warwick, and put up at the "Bullock's Head." Here William renewed the acquaintance of his old friend the Warwick Ganymede, "Hopping Dick;" and after recommending to the especial attention of Mr. Wigton and his sister the artistic display on the coffee-room walls, the rural combination of beauty and innocence on the mantelpiece, with their rotund neighbour, the guardian of the "spills," he gave instructions to the landlord's representative about their accommodation, and proceeded to the stable to satisfy himself that his horses were being well looked after; knowing that, unless he did so, the attention and provender they would receive would be scanty in the extreme.

On the present occasion, fortunately for our friends, the bovine cranium was empty, and William was in high spirits. He had had serious misgivings at the outset of his journey in taking his sister to such a place, from the scene he had on his previous visit seen enacted in it. But the domiciliary selection having a contingency attached to it similar to that which stultified the choice of that immortal, though, we fear, mythical individual, yclept Hobson, he had no alternative but to run the risk of annoyance in this favourite hostel. William, therefore, was happy at the thought that there would be no fear of molestation; and, Warwick being the only stage where they would have to quarter at an inn, he felt no apprehension for his sister's comfort during their further progress.

Hopping Dick speedily made his appearance to arrange the table for their repast, while William amused himself by eliciting information from him of a various nature, by questions put to the fellow as he continued to hover between the coffee-room and the pantry.

"Have you had any exploits lately, Dick," said he, "similar to that which I witnessed on the first night I stopped here? You remember when I mean," continued William, as he remarked the man's abstraction, as if in thought to what or which exploit he had referred; "I mean when you had the table smashed."

"By the gent as tried to take his horse over it?" enquired the salient-gaited waiter.

"Exactly," replied his interlocutor.

"No, sir; we ain't had no more just like that 'un lately, not sich roarers. I s'pose ye know, sir, that 'ere gent, Mr. Smith, what the 'orse belonged to, is dead?"

"No," replied William, "I do not. Pray, how might that have happened?"

"Why, you see, sir, he stopped here for about a week, for he was uncommon fond of a spree, and he never reached home after that. His 'orse comed on to the station one day without him, and with the saddle twisted right round, and hanging under his belly. So ye see, sir, his people fancied he had got a 'buster' somehow, and went a-search of him, but couldn't find him nohow. They comed in here then, and found out what way he took; and, with some black fellows, they, after a while, found his track, and run it down till they found him as quiet as you please on the broad of his back, with his head cracked. He was a bit fresh when he left here, so they thought he might a' been going home, some'ut mad like, and got a 'spill,' which cook'd him. Howsomdever, he spent his money like a real gent, and I'm precious sorry he's dead; for he was uncom'n good to me, and a good 'un for custom to the master; the likes of him ain't seen every day."

Even grieved as William was to hear of the melancholy and untimely end of such a man; cut off in the prime of life while in the mad pursuit of a delirious career, he could not help indulging in a smile at the strange sophistry of his companion, who imagined that a lavish waste of substance was the constituted act of a gentleman; and at the selfishness of the fellow who regretted the death of the man only in so far as it affected the pocket of himself and his employer. But he reflected it was the way of the world; clothe the feeling how he would; and he felt no doubt that perhaps with the solitary exception of a doating parent who might mourn his death in a far distant land, the man would pass from this earth without the regret of a mortal; and without leaving the remembrance of a virtue, or good action, to perpetuate his memory.

"Then, I suppose, Dick," continued William, "you have been quieter lately, since Mr. Smith was killed."

"Yes, sir, we've been somewhat quieter of late," replied the man; "but we expect to get a turn again soon. The shearers round the stations will be done their work shortly, and they'll be in with their cheques. Some on 'em a' done already; for we had a party in last week of about eight, and they only went away yesterday."

"And I suppose spent their money too, like real gentleman, eh, Dick?" said William laughing.

"Why, sir," replied the man, "some on 'em did knock down their pile, and when they left here they was regularly cleared out."

"And how much had they spent individually do you think?" enquired the young squatter.

"That I couldn't exactly say," replied the other; "some on 'em knocked down twenty pounds or so, but some on 'em stuck to their tin, as they was a going down the country."

"Probably it was the intention of the whole party to go down the country until they came here; don't you think so, Dick?" asked William.

"Praps it was, sir, but some on 'em had to go back agin to work," naively replied the Ganymede.

"But how on earth could one man spend twenty pounds in a week, by merely drinking?" enquired William.

"Easy enough, sir," replied the fellow; "some of those chaps, when they get the drink in 'em, will 'shout' for the whole town; and you know it ain't our buisness to stop 'em; we only sells the grog, and they buy it."

William had often heard of such practices as these where poor deluded wretches, after toiling hard to obtain their wages, had no sooner received a cheque or draft from their employers in settlement of what was due them, than they would rush to the first public-house; and, placing their cheque in the hands of the publican, would commence a course of mad dissipation; merely requesting to be informed when the money was expended. This had been told him, and also that the victims, after being kept in a state of delirium for a week or so, had it intimated to them that their funds were exhausted; that they had been "shouting" to all the town, or in other words, that they had been providing drink to all who chose to partake; in which belief they were compelled to be satisfied and take their departure. Not only twenty, but often fifty, and even a hundred pounds, he had heard had been embezzled from men under such circumstances; and though he had never before seen instances to warrant his belief in such statements, he was now convinced of the existence of the iniquitous system; for this satellite of the demon had admitted the fact, and spoken of it as the mere course of business. William felt disgusted with the cool infamy of the fellow, and at the magnitude and effrontery of the publican's dishonesty. It was melancholy for him, as for any sentient creature, to contemplate the blind infatuation with which bushmen generally squander their money; or, more properly speaking, allow themselves to be robbed of it. Yet they are willing victims, while there is neither protection for them, nor punishment for the men whose criminality is so glaring.

Such were William's thoughts as Mr. Wigton entered the room. To the clergyman our young friend communicated the conversation he had had with the waiter; and for sometime, until they were joined by Kate, the two gentlemen discussed the nature of that evil, which they both lamented; without being able to clearly define a means for the extrication of the unfortunate class.

"I can very well see," remarked Mr. Wigton, "the impulse under which these persons act. They are placed suddenly in possession of money; in the control of which they have previously had no experience; and, carried away by the advice, and influenced by the example of associates, they first learn that extravagance which ends in an improvidence that leaves them continually without a shilling. If they have any idea of being saving they are at a loss how to invest their savings; for no means present themselves; their opportunities of purchasing lands, on which to settle, are so rare that they hardly believe its possession within the range of possibility; and they consequently submit to the decrees of evil. Being without the benefit of good advice, and the application of sound precepts, they see no other course open to them, but a reckless expenditure of their hard-earned gains."

"But do you not think, my dear sir," said William, "that some means could be devised to cultivate a feeling of prudence in these men? can they not be induced to abandon their suicidal extravagance?"

"Yes, certainly," replied his companion, "means could be adopted; but unless the matter is taken up by the employers, or our legislators, I fear nothing will ever be done to ransom the men. Besides, I believe the squatters consider it to their interest to nourish the practice, as it keeps the men more dependent upon them. If the employers could be persuaded to interest themselves on the subject I would hope for better things. Many plans would be useful, such as the establishment of savings banks for instance; but the principal, the desideratum in fact, is the facile procuration of cheap land. A man should be able at any moment to go to the survey office, or some local agent, and select a piece of land that would be suitable for agriculture; and be at liberty at once to take possession, and commence cultivation. Such would be the best means of ensuring thriftiness; and, until we obtain some such system, I fear we may labour in vain to induce economy. Not that the difficulty is insuperable. I have fortunately been the humble instrument of arresting many poor men from such headlong folly; by first inducing them to feel a disgust for the filthy and degrading dissipation which they indulge in. But I have never been able to give any advice in the disposal of their means, from the fact that I know of no channels into which to divert them."

At this point, the discussion ceased by the entrance of Kate, and the trio sat down to their meal, undisturbed by the presence of strangers; and as the topics of the conversation which ensued, though exceedingly animated and interesting to the parties engaged in it, are not at all pertinent to our story, nor would be interesting to our readers, we may be permitted to draw a veil over the scene, until the conclusion of the repast.

William had a strong desire to question the strange character who waited at table; firmly believing him to be an infamous scoundrel, though gifted in a vicious lore, out of which our young friend had a wish to extract information. For this purpose, soon after the clearance of the cloth, he rose from the table, and leaving his sister in the society of Mr. Wigton, followed Dick into his own regions. Having lit his pipe at the kitchen fire, he took his seat to wait until Hopping Dick was sufficiently disengaged to admit of his answering his interrogations. The fellow himself seemed to like being drawn into conversation, and William had therefore little difficulty in inducing him to be communicative; for by the aid of a stiff glass of grog, or as we would say, in the parlance of the country, "a ball," Dick's heart was softened; and he smiled his satisfaction in a sardonic grin, which had anything but amiability in its expression. Having finished the satisfying of his own inward man; and commenced the indulgence of adding his contribution to the general nicotian pregnated atmosphere, while proceeding about his vocation, he replied to William's various questions with a wonderful alacrity and volubility, strangely contrasting with the taciturn moroseness which had appeared to be his usual manner. Warmed with the genial influence of the spirituous unction, his bosom, if he was possessed of such a divison of anatomy, was opened to his young companion; and he not only gave him a perfect outline of his own history, but a synopsis of that of his master, together with other particulars, various and heterogeneous. As the reader may desire some little acquaintance of Dick's career, we will detail it; and, to save the infliction of that individual's verbosity and jargon, render his narrative into a more comprehensive vernacular; prefacing it with the remark, that the adventures of the narrator must not be considered as a rule, or a characteristic of the inhabitants of the colony. Hopping Dick was an exception; he was in fact one of the last specimens of a class, now happily nearly extinct.

Hopping Dick was a "lag" and a "lifer;" or to be more explicit, he was one of those gentlemen who "leave their country for their country's good," and whose period of expatriation is for the term of their natural lives. What was the nature of the offence that caused his transportation we are unable to say positively, though we can form a pretty shrewd opinion. By his own account, all the justiciary of England conspired in unholy league to effect his ruin, and did not rest until they had accomplished their dread designs. Though we have no doubt he was very hardly dealt with in the deprivation of his liberty, we strongly suspect our friend had a predilection for visiting the domiciles of his fellow citizens, slightly in opposition to their wishes; and dropping in at most unseasonable hours, by means of some instrumental application of his own, detrimental to the locks and fastenings of such dwellings. In addition to this, he sometimes had a playful manner of titulating the craniums of his friends, so visited, with a toyish sort of article he was induced to carry on his person for his own vital preservation.

It was on one occasion when he was going to see "his gal" (he said), who lived in a fashionable locality of London, he had been kept pretty late with some of his friends (or "pals," as he vulgarly designated them), and when he got to her house he discovered she had forgotten to leave the door open for him; but being pretty well acquainted with that accomplishment of the "force," area scaling, and being supplied with his own latch-key, he did not think much of her neglect. But, strange to say, and considerably to the astonishment of Dick, the head of the family had a strong objection to that individual's visiting his ladye love; and absolutely mistaking him for a common burglar, seized him, with malice prepense, to hand him over to "the perlice." Dick, under these circumstances, had no alternative but to knock his assailant down; but the screaming that was made in the house caused the appearance of those metropolitan enemies of freedom, the "peelers," who marched him off in custody. He was tried by a jury of his countrymen, who were so far biassed by his arch-enemy the judge, as to convict him of burglary, which resulted in the provision of a free passage for him to the rising settlement of Botany Bay. Upon his arrival at his destination our unfortunate friend was drafted to the penal settlement on the Hunter river; where he remained some time, until he was made over as an "assigned servant" to a settler in that district.

The master to whom Dick was assigned, like many more in the country, was one who had received a large grant of land from the government, and was clearing and putting under cultivation a considerable portion by the labour of the convicts; who were at that time assigned by the government to any settler who would undertake to clothe and feed them. Under such a system, as might be imagined, the convict's apparel was of the meanest texture, and their food of the coarsest description; and while they were made to work under the terror of the lash, and the eye of an overseer (often excelling in barbarous cruelty the vaunted atrocities of the American slave-drivers), flagellation was the ordeal they were almost constantly permeating.

Dick had not been long with his new master before he discovered the nature of the tyranny to which he would be subjected. His first taste of his penal life was on an occasion when he complained to the overseer of the nature of the tools with which he was working. Such flagrant presumption could not, of course, be tolerated; the overseer reported him to the master; the master laid a charge of insubordination against him before the magistrate, and he was forthwith visited with the due punishment of the law, in the shape of fifty lashes; after which, with his body bleeding and lacerated, he was sent back to his work.

It is impossible to picture, with sufficient force, the horrors and atrocities of the penal times. We do not consider ourselves adequate to the task of exposure and condemnation; but, though we do not approve a life of ease and comfort accorded to condemned felons, we unhesitatingly affirm, that in most, if not all cases, the cruel treatment which the convicts underwent, instead of having a penitential influence, only served to harden them in their iniquities; and while they frequently became perfectly callous to the infliction of punishment, they were debased to the incarnation of fiends, merely wanting in the opportunity to perpetrate the most atrocious villanies in retribution.

If Dick had ever entertained any disposition of a reformatory nature, it was entirely dissipated by his early experience. He only waited the auspicious moment when he could follow the steps of hundreds of others who had been similarly situated, but had escaped to become "bush-rangers," and the terror of the country. An opportunity was not long in presenting itself; and he, with a party of six as desperate ruffians as himself, contrived to elude the vigilance of their masters, and get into the bush. Their sufferings and privations were extreme; little short of the hateful servitude from which they fled; but they preferred anything, even death itself, rather than return to a repetition of their bondage. Their escape, however, was soon detected, and they were pursued by a small company of military; who succeeded in surprising them in the mountains, and upon their attempting to escape, fired upon them. In this recontre two of the convicts were killed, and three others were wounded. Of these, Dick was one, for he received a shot in the knee from which he never thoroughly recovered; while the muscular contraction that ensued, from the want of surgical treatment, caused the deformity which gave rise to his appellation.

When he was retaken and brought back to the settlement, he was thrown back again upon the government, and put into the "chain-gang," where he worked in irons with the other incorrigibles. From this, after a while, he was transferred to a quarry party, and again made over to a settler as an assigned servant. His treatment from this master was even more tyrannical than he had experienced before; for the most imaginary offence, and frequently for no offence at all, but just at the caprice of the master, he was treated to various applications of the lash, and restricted allowances of his miserable rations. His slavery was the most abject, his misery the most consummate, and his degradation the most venal and depraved: he was the image of the man without the mental spark; the human being in semblance, but the brute in reality.

The character of Dick's employer was well known; and hardened as all were by the repetition of scenes that would have made the heart of a novice sicken, most, even of the officials, looked upon him as too harsh and cruel, though none attempted to check his insatiable inhumanity. A circumstance, however, transpired, which speedily brought this state of things to a crisis. Dick had only returned one day from the "triangle," with his body lacerated by the punishment he had been undergoing, when he was ordered by his master to instantly resume his labour, while he taunted him and laughed at his emaciated appearance. The heat of the sun was oppressive, and Dick, though he had borne unflinchingly the infliction of the lash, was sick at heart, and debilitated by the loss of blood. All his evil passions were aroused within him; and it was only with an unwilling hand and suppressed oath of threatened vengeance that he resumed his work; while his tormentor continued to goad him with a recollection of his past and present misery, and a prospect of fresh torture. The unfeeling wretch continued his banter until human nature could bear it no longer, and with the spade which he held in his hand, Dick clove the skull of his inordinate persecutor. He never attempted to escape from the fate which he knew awaited him; but permitted himself to be led quietly to that confinement which he was aware would only terminate with the close of his life. He remained in durance for some months or so, during which his master hovered between life and death; who, when he was sufficiently recovered to be enabled to move about, was gratified by having the unfortunate criminal brought to justice.

In those days the laws against the convicts were very summary; short work was made of those with whom the rulers experienced much trouble; and in a case like this, where a prisoner attempted the life of a free settler, his doom was fixed before he was placed at the bar; nothing but his life could expiate for such a crime. Dick well knew this, and also that if there were any mitigating circumstances, his master would spare no trouble in securing his execution; he was not therefore at all surprised that he was sentenced to the extreme rigour of the law. However, death appeared to the miserable culprit only a release from his bodily suffering; and he hailed its consummation with more delight than he had experienced in any of his earthly pursuits; but his sufferings were not yet at an end. His execution was fixed; notwithstanding that some slight effort was made to save him by some persons more humane than their compeers, and who knew the character of the victim's persecutor; and he was led away to the final scene of his drama. Before the adjustment of the hempen order he was enlivened by the brutal taunts and lampoons of his master; who, forgetful of his own narrow escape from the grave, jested, with an unparalleled coarseness, on the fate awaiting the condemned wretch before him.

The signal was given; the bolt was withdrawn; and Dick, with the hoarse laugh of his master ringing in his ears, was launched into the air, if not into eternity. But by some gross mismanagement the culprit's feet came in contact with the ground; while his ears continued to be assailed with the blaspheming raillery of the man, who was equally deserving of such a fate. In this position the unfortunate wretch remained, until a hole was dug to make his suspension complete; and he was again launched forth; though with no better success. The authorities were by this time felt to be in a fix; but the victim was not to escape, at least, so said the master; who with an oath, volunteered to finish the work himself. Carrying his offer into execution, he mounted the rope that suspended the criminal, and added his weight by standing on the man's shoulders, to effect a dislocation, or strangulation. But he was again frustrated; for the rope, which had done service on many similar occasions, gave way under the additional weight; and both were precipitated into the pit, amidst the oaths and imprecations of the one, and the groans and lamentations of the other.

The body of the half strangled man was then removed; while fresh exertions were made to obtain his reprieve; this time with a better result; and, notwithstanding the strenuous opposition of the master, Dick's life was spared; though it was only to undergo the horrors of a stricter servitude. This he bore for some three years; and if by that time, he was not reformed, he was certainly subdued; while his apparent docility, being construed into reformation, had the effect of causing a relaxation of the rigid discipline under which he had been placed. He was relieved from the irons in which he worked, and was permitted the use of his limbs with more freedom; while the use nht psoe hwi cfirt h tth em (after he was transferred to the new settlement of Moreton Bay), was to escape into the bush. For years nothing further was heard of him; and, by those who troubled themselves to bestow a thought upon him, he was supposed to have perished. But, after the abandonment of the settlement as a penal depot, when it was thrown open to the public, a report was brought in that, in a distant part of the country, a white man was living with the blacks in perfect nudity; and, from his long exposure to the sun, almost of a colour with his companions. He was said to be robust looking, but with a malformation by which one of his legs was longer than the other. The description answered to the escaped convict, Dick; and, the circumstances having been communicated to the government, a party was sent in quest of him. After some trouble he was discovered, and brought into the settlement; but the results of his past life with the blacks were, that he had entirely forgotten his mother tongue, and had acquired new ways and sympathies that long deterred him from assimilating to those of the whites. Considering his many and peculiar vicissitudes, a remission of the penalty to which he was liable was obtained from the Crown; and a perpetual ticket-of-leave was granted him, provided that he remained in the district of Moreton Bay.

Such then was the career of this character related by himself to William, as the latter sat listening to him; and though his sufferings had been fearful, and his escapes miraculous, the catalogue of his trials was only a counterpart of hundreds or thousands of his fellows who had either died under their servitude, or become scourges to the country. Numerous are the instances of the atrocious barbarities of a system, which for iniquity had no parallel; but it is not our object to enlarge on the dismal subject; and, as we may have occasion to revert to it again, for the present we will dismiss it from our thoughts.



CHAPTER XIII.

"Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care; And 'let us worship God' he says with solemn air."

BURNS.

The party at the "Bullock's Head" retired early to rest in order to proceed on their journey at a corresponding hour on the following morning. They slept and rose, breakfasted and resumed their travel; and the same afternoon arrived at Barra Warra, where they were welcomed by their kind-hearted friends, the Dawsons. It is needless for us here to detail the circumstances of the visit; suffice it to say, that the lady of the house and Kate Ferguson at once established their friendship on a firm basis; and the gentlemen passed their time pleasantly, and in a manner congenial to their respective tastes. The only event during the period of their sojourn, which we deem necessary to narrate, is that of preaching in the bush.

A day or two after their arrival—on a Sunday morning—Mr. Dawson placed his large wool-shed, which at the time was nearly empty, at the disposal of Mr. Wigton, for the purpose of there holding Divine service; and he gave intimation on the station that such would take place. Though Mr. Dawson was a conscientious adherent of the Anglican church, he was not one of those who, in the absence of a place of worship where the adoration is conducted not strictly in accordance with the prescribed formulae of his church, would abstain from attendance on any other denominational service. He was devoid of such bigotry; and considered it a duty, when an opportunity of public worship presented itself (even though the minister officiating was not deemed perfectly orthodox by the tenets of the Episcopalian creed), to avail himself of it. Where means of ministration were rare, he considered sectarian distinctions prejudicial to the cause of the gospel, and deemed the only essential to be an earnest truthfulness and piety on the part of the clergyman. He always encouraged the ordinances of religion on his station, and the inculcation of moral principles among his men.

The Sabbath was one of those lovely days so peculiar to the sunny regions of favoured Australia. The sky was without a cloud to vary its unbroken and immaculate azure, and the sun shone with a voluptuous lustre, which rendered the atmosphere warm, though not oppressive, and the face of the country smiling and cheerful. The people around the place—men, women, and children, clean and neatly clad—assembled in an orderly manner; while the sombre stillness of the bush tended to impress the beholders with an earnestness, a feeling of devotion, and a confirmed belief, that, verily, "the Spirit of the Lord moved upon the face of the earth." There are, we venture to say, few more inspiring scenes than the performance of Divine service, or "a preaching," in the wilds of the woods; and we believe the spiritual influence was felt that day by not a few of the number who listened to the exposition of the Word, which was delivered from the lips of the preacher with a truth and pathos characteristic of a sincere and devout mind. The same orderly and sober manner marked the dispersion of the people, as did their gathering; and if no spiritual good arose from it (though we sincerely trust and believe there did), in a moral point of view the people reaped a reward; and by the same means, indirectly, the squatter was benefited.

These preachings contrast pleasingly with the general thoughtless and frivolous manner of some of the congregations in our large towns, and it is only to be regretted that they are not of more frequent occurrence. Nothing would more greatly tend to advance the morals of those people of Australia who too frequently live in a state of vitiated depravity and mental degradation, and who are perfectly destitute of religion, and ignorant and neglectful of its observances.

When William and his party had remained at Barra Warra for about a week he thought it time to push forward to his home; and, after some little persuasion with Mrs. Dawson, induced her to part with his sister, and the young lady to consent to go. They took their leave amidst a general expression of cordiality, and an entreaty from their kind friends to find their way back again as soon as possible. They then proceeded on their way, Kate more than ever delighted with her prospect. In the spontaneous ebullition of her youthful and innocent feelings, and charmed beyond measure at the kind reception she had met with from the amiable people she had just left, she was in the highest spirits, and gave frequent vent to her joy. Her merry peals of laughter rang through the woods with an echo that sounded as if all the trees had taken up the chorus, and supported her in bursts of silvery-toned cachinnations. She talked and chatted away the time, asking questions of her brother respecting the Smitherses and the Rainsfields, and requesting him to draw comparisons between the two families and that which they had lately left. This task William professed himself unable to accomplish, and unwilling to attempt; remarking that "comparisons were odious," and that his sister would be able to judge for herself if she would exercise a little patience.

The road was quickly travelled over; and our friends comfortably completed that day's stage, and found themselves at Brompton before dark. They were welcomed by Mr. and Mrs. Smithers in as friendly a manner as William had anticipated; but upon Kate and Mr. Wigton being introduced as strangers to Bob, he muttered some unintelligible sentence, turned on his heel, and left the room. Such extraordinary conduct rather surprised the Fergusons, especially William; who, when last he had seen him, parted from him in perfect good feeling. The proprietor of the station and his wife were not only astonished, but exceedingly chagrined to think that their visitors should have received so gross an insult from a member of their family. Without entering into any vituperations on Bob's conduct, they apologised to their friends for his inexplicable behaviour, stating their inability to assign any reason for it beyond his extraordinary temper, and expressing many regrets for its occurrence.

The Fergusons professed to think nothing of it, and begged their friends to take no heed of the circumstance, as it gave them, personally, no concern; being convinced that it could not have been the intention of Mr. Smithers' brother to have meditated any insult. Notwithstanding all their assurances that they in no way felt annoyed, they could not remove from the minds of their hosts the impression that they had received an unwarrantable insult; and the culprit not "entering an appearance" again, and no explanation being forthcoming, the evening passed very heavily, and a general relief was experienced by the party when they separated for the night.

On the following morning the Fergusons and Mr. Wigton resumed their journey, and the spirit of their travelling contrasted greatly with that of the previous day. They had parted from the Smitherses on very good terms; but Bob had continued to absent himself, and there was a gloom thrown over the parting in consequence.

"What a horrid bear that man is," exclaimed Kate, as she rode between the other two equestrians. "What could have induced him to be so rude? Have you any idea, Will?"

William certainly had an idea, and it grieved him much to contemplate it, for he thought he read in the occurrence a rupture between his brother and Bob Smithers. But he was deep in thought when his sister addressed him, and not until she had repeated her question did he make any reply; and that reply, if not strictly the truth, was, he thought, the best he could make, rather than by uttering his convictions, to excite the fears of his sister for her brother John.

"No, my Kate, I do not," replied William, "but what does it signify? We have no occasion to trouble ourselves about the circumstance. Bob Smithers was exceedingly ungentlemanly in his behaviour; but I believe he is proverbial for that sort of conduct, so I think we need not give the matter any further thought. Do you, Mr. Wigton?"

"You are quite right, William," replied the minister, "the folly or frivolity of the man, for at most it is only such, should not be allowed to give us any uneasiness. If it was intended to convey any insult, we can best show our appreciation of it by allowing it at once to sink into oblivion; but I have no doubt it may be attributable to his extraordinary manner, which, you say, is customary."

"Well," said Kate, "I'll tell Miss Rainsfield of the manner in which he treated us; it is only right that she should know what a ruffian he is."

"Now, my thoughtless little sister, you must do no such thing," said her brother; "rather studiously avoid mentioning anything at Strawberry Hill disparaging of Bob Smithers. Miss Rainsfield must be better acquainted with the gentleman's character and manner than either you or I; and the relation of any such affront as we have received might cause her considerable and unnecessary pain."

"Nonsense, William," cried the girl. "Miss Rainsfield ought to know how he acts to strangers, because, I am sure, he'll always behave himself before her; and I am convinced if she only knew what a bear he is, she would not have anything to say to him."

"Kate," remarked Mr. Wigton, "William is quite right; it would be better to say nothing about the affair, if, as I imagine from your conversation, this young lady entertains any regard for Mr. Smithers. She must be better acquainted with his feelings than we; consequently, we should avoid the possibility of creating any contentions between the families; while, after all, there might have been nothing in his manner deserving animadversion."

"I think I can see the drift of my fair sister's plan," said William to Mr. Wigton; "she has taken a fancy to Bob Smithers herself, and she thinks by telling this dreadful tragedy to Miss Rainsfield, that young lady will be induced to discard him, and leave the coast open to our Kate."

"You are a most impertinent fellow," exclaimed Kate, as she attempted to lay her whip across the shoulders of her brother. "I detest the man; and if he were to make himself as pleasant and agreeable as it is possible for any man to be, I could not endure him."

"Never mind, my pretty Flora," said her brother, "we will not submit you to the infliction; but promise to say nothing to the Rainsfields of the affair at Brompton."

"If you particularly wish it," replied Kate, "I will hold my tongue; but I cannot imagine for why. But tell me," said she, as her usual smile returned to its wonted place, "how long shall we be before we arrive at Strawberry Hill?"

"Not until late," said William, "unless we mend our pace, so we had better push on;" with which remark he put spurs to his horse, and rode at a brisk rate followed hard by his companions.

Well on in the afternoon they arrived at Strawberry Hill; and the first inmate of the house who presented himself was Tom Rainsfield, who grasped the hand of William, and was introduced by him to Kate and Mr. Wigton. The former he expressed much delight in seeing, and stated he had been looking out anxiously for her arrival, and would at once constitute himself her protector and most obedient servant. With such little blandishments he led the arrivals into the house; and presented with due solemnity the treasure, that he said had been consigned to his keeping, to his sister-in-law and his cousin. The ladies at once received Kate with that affectionate welcome inherent in women; and, relieving Tom of his self-imposed responsibility, disappeared with her to one of those secret conferences, the mysteries of which we masculine mortals are destined always to remain in profound ignorance.

The gentlemen then issued through the French light, and passed from the room to the verandah that encompassed the house. Tom brought out chairs, and desired his visitors to be seated for a few minutes, until the ladies returned, while he went in search of his brother to acquaint him of their arrival.

In a short time Mrs. Rainsfield and her companions made their appearance all radiant with smiles, and their faces beaming with expressions of good feeling; shortly after which Tom joined them with Mr. Rainsfield, who received the travellers with a politeness that struck William as having some degree of formality in it. However, a repast was speedily prepared and set upon the table, to which all sat down; when everything was cordiality; and after spending a very pleasant and agreeable evening, the party broke up at an hour rather late for weary wayfarers. But the gentlemen expressed themselves free from fatigue; and Kate, who was really a good equestrian, so enjoyed the society of Mrs. Rainsfield, and had become so attached to Eleanor, that the moments seemed to fly by with an almost incredible velocity. Not till Mr. Rainsfield had more than once reminded his wife that it was approaching midnight, did the ladies take the hint to separate. Then the matron followed by the two girls, with their arms encircling each others waists, made their exit; while Tom's eyes followed them with looks of admiration.

In the morning they all assembled at the table; and without tiring the reader with the conversation that was carried on, or the entire detail of their plans, which were discussed over the morning meal, we will give a synopsis of the whole in a few words. It was arranged that William, his sister, and Mr. Wigton, accompanied by Tom and Mrs. Rainsfield, should ride over to Fern Vale. William and Mr. Wigton were to remain there with John, while the rest of the party returned to Strawberry Hill. Mr. Wigton had declined the invitation of the Rainsfields to remain with them for a short time on the ground that he would not have long to remain in their quarter, and he wished to devote as much as possible of his time to his young friends. Kate was to fulfil her promised visit until her brother's house was ready for her reception.

The arrangements for the passage over to Fern Vale pleased all parties but Kate, who had been industriously persevering to induce Eleanor to accompany them. But her friend had excused herself on the plea that she very rarely rode, was not at all a good horsewoman, and almost invariably felt ill after a ride. So Kate, finding entreaty useless, was constrained to do without the companionship of her friend. The party took their departure early in the forenoon, without seeing Mr. Rainsfield; who, they understood, was engaged with some person, Mr. Billing had sent word to say, had been waiting to see him.



CHAPTER XIV.

"Nature, indeed, denies them sense, But gives them legs and impudence, That beats all understanding."

WILLIAMS.

When the black boy, whom John Ferguson had named Billy, was released by his captors, after the castigation we have seen him subjected to by Rainsfield and Smithers, he made the best of his way to Fern Vale; and there, with his bleeding back substantiating his statement, told his tale of woe. John and his friend Tom Rainsfield could hardly credit their sight; the latter especially, who could not think but that if his brother had any hand in the barbarity it must have been as a passive instrument at the disposal of Smithers. The young men felt for the poor aboriginal, and in their sympathy tended his wounds and gave him what assistance they could. With the black the injury sank deep into his heart; savage as he was he felt the ignominy of his treatment; and he cherished that feeling of deep revenge which is innate in the natures of all God's creatures, but especially in those, who like the savage, have never had an ethic inculcation to restrain their passions. He gave vent to his agony, as he lay prostrate on his pallet, in wails of anguish and vituperative mutterings; uttered in the unintelligibleness of his own language.

After the subsiding of the first surprise and indignation the agitation of his own thoughts too much occupied John's mind to admit of his being much diverted by the sorrows of his black boy; and Tom was too much affected by the dejectedness of his friend to entertain any lasting concern for the sable sufferer. As he sat ruminating on the incidents of the day, until he fell into a reverie almost as deep as one of those indulged in by his companion, he roused himself by uttering the following exordium: "Cheer up, John, my dear fellow; don't permit yourself to feel disappointed, for I am sure from the glimpse Eleanor has had to-day of Smithers' real nature she cannot entertain any respect for him; and, as for her ridiculous persistence in binding herself to a foolish engagement, I have no doubt she will now see the necessity of abandoning it."

"My dear Tom," replied the other, "I cannot consent to oppose the claims of Bob Smithers so long as Eleanor herself holds them sacred. She admitted her engagement to him in his and my presence, and at the same time abstained from giving me any direct answer to my proposal; I imagine, as she thought, to avoid paining my feelings; so I must not dare to hope."

"That's all moonshine," cried Tom, "banish the idea of Bob Smithers from your head altogether. You say Eleanor gave you no direct answer to your entreaties; I don't profess to be a judge in such matters, but it appears to me her hesitation was not disadvantageous to you. If that ruffian had not appeared I am sure you would have overcome all her scruples. Persevere John! you know the adage, 'faint heart never won fair lady;' rouse yourself, and act upon it, and I will stake my existence on the result."

"I cannot, Tom," replied his friend. "I assure you, I cannot; I have a higher opinion of Eleanor's integrity than to think she would be influenced by my entreaties to reject Smithers merely from our little fracas yesterday. She distinctly informed me she was engaged to him, and I am bound in honour to respect her judgment. If I ever had reason to believe her determination would alter I might hope; but no, I see no prospect."

"You are too nice," exclaimed Tom, "upon the point of honour, as you call it. Her engagement I look upon as a mere phantasy, which she will be convinced of ere long. All you have to consider is, whether or not she will accept you. You have had no answer from her you say; then take an early opportunity of seeing her, and pressing for a reply. If you will not plead for yourself I will for you; and shall point out to her the absurdity and absolute sinfulness of discarding you for that object of conceited inanition, Bob Smithers."

"Much as I would desire the reversion of the decree that forbids me hope that Eleanor will be mine," replied John, "I would much rather that you did not agitate her by adverting to the subject in her hearing, as it cannot fail to renew unpleasant reminiscences."

"Well, perhaps it would be better," said Tom, "to let it remain as it is for a short time; and if you promise me to keep up your spirits, and hope for a better state of things, I will engage not to disturb her unnecessarily. Why, I'll stake anything you like on it, she is thinking of you at this very moment; and will no more marry Bob Smithers than I will the ghostly Meg Merillies."

With a sickly smile from the forlorn lover the conversation ceased for the time; and the friends shortly afterwards retired to seek the rest they respectively stood in need of. On the following morning Tom returned to Strawberry Hill; while John, upon busying himself on the station, learnt that the black boy Billy had disappeared in the night; and that Jemmy, his companion, professed to know nothing about him. Calling in the aid of Joey he was enabled to trace the track of the fugitive to the river; from which circumstance he conjectured that Billy had waited for the dawn of morning; when he had taken his departure with the intention of joining his tribe. Upon making this discovery he felt considerable annoyance, as the black had began to be useful, and would in all probability be followed by his companion. He could not help feeling disgusted at the treatment the poor fellow had received; and so far as he was personally concerned, he felt himself justified in resenting the conduct of his neighbour; which he determined to take the earliest opportunity of stigmatizing, and condemning in the strongest possible terms. As he had anticipated, the other black soon followed his fellow, and he was consequently put to considerable inconvenience by the deprivation of their labour.

Nearly a week had elapsed after this, and Tom Rainsfield had ridden over to Fern Vale to spend a little spare time with his friend, and cheer him in his solitude. "My brother," said he, "has been again annoyed by the blacks. They have paid him another visit, and seem determined to cultivate his acquaintance more closely than hitherto. I expect that fellow of yours has given his relatives a feeling account of his reception at our place, and also as to the exact position of the store. In their late visit, they were in considerable numbers (I presume to protect themselves against a general flogging), and they have vented their displeasure in a manner most conducive to their happiness, by appropriating what of our stores they could conveniently remove. I believe my brother meditates some desperate onslaught; for he is swearing to exterminate the whole tribe if they continue their depredations much longer."

"I think," replied John Ferguson, "that he is suicidal to his own interests by perpetuating his quarrel with the blacks. An unceasing warfare with them will only be conducive of misfortune, loss, and uneasiness to both himself and his neighbours; for the blacks will not have the sense to discriminate between those that are friendly disposed towards them, and those that are the reverse. All whites to them will be the same, and will become objects of their hatred."

"I agree with you to a certain extent," replied Tom; "and I believe the aborigines can not only be conciliated, but be made certainly useful, if not industrious. I don't like the idea of driving the poor wretches away from the country: at the same time you must admit our property must not be despoiled without an effort on our part to protect it."

"Certainly," replied John; "but I believe the very violation of which you speak is merely the result of the harsh treatment persevered in by your brother. Their visits to you are only their retribution for injuries received at his hands. You see they respect my property, simply because I treat them with some degree of lenity; at the same time I give them to understand that I would not permit any appropriation on their part; and I have no doubt if your brother would adopt the same course he would experience a similar result."

"Very likely," said Tom; "but he does not seem to think so, and I imagine it would be hard to convince him. The hostility which he now experiences from the blacks, I believe, as you say, is the result of his austerity; but he imagines it arises from their own natural predilection for stealing, while his severity is his only safeguard. I am quite of opinion that the blackguards are naturally disposed to pilfer; but at the same time I have no doubt our property could be preserved by the exercise of a moral firmness, without any of that unnecessary harshness and cruelty which my brother displays. But see, here they are, paying you a visit apparently, and in open day too; see now, if they don't upset your theory."