Charley, on hearing this, sprang aloft with his glass. He quickly returned, and quietly remarked to me, "A ship standing in for the land, not unlike our friend of last week."

I agreed with him it would be prudent to avoid her. The best way to do this was to stand close in, so that our masts should not appear above the land. The shore was here higher and more broken than that which we had before passed.

The stranger was drawing near, and judging from the cut of his sails I had little doubt that he was a Frenchman. Whether or not he saw us it was hard to say; I was afraid he did, as he was steering a course which would inevitably cut us off. I still did not like to communicate my fears to my wife and daughters. It must be done soon I felt, for the nearer the stranger drew the more convinced I was that he was French. While we were watching our supposed enemy we did not neglect to look out for a place of refuge, and we kept scanning the coast anxiously for any opening into which we might run to hide ourselves. My wife and daughters suspected, from what they observed, that I did not like the look of the stranger; and when at last I saw that it was no use concealing from them what I suspected, Mary, I think it was, proposed loading the boats with as many necessaries as they could carry, running close in, and, having deserted the vessel, hiding ourselves in the woods till our enemies had gone away.

Her sisters chimed in, and thought that it would not be at all unpleasant to picnic in the woods for a few days, or perhaps settle there altogether. They little dreamed of the inhospitable character of that part of the country; still I would say nothing to damp their courage. The breeze was fresh and from the south-west, and though it brought up the stranger, it enabled us to stand close in shore with less danger than if the wind had been dead on it. As far as we could judge, there was no opening to indicate a harbour or shelter of any sort. The big ship was approaching rapidly; I felt as if we were caught in a trap. We had no choice now but to stand on; the wind was too much to the westward to allow us to retrace our course, and so double on the stranger. I thought by this time that we must be seen. We were small, that was one thing; and another was, probably, that no one was looking for us. If not seen now, we should be in a few minutes; of that I felt sure. Again and again I examined the strange vessel, and became more and more convinced that if not a government ship she was worse; one of the large privateers which were known to infest the Indian seas, and which occasionally made excursions to other regions. They were generally commanded by ruffians, and manned with desperadoes of all nations—the scourings of the French galleys. To fall into such hands would be worse than death. I cannot tell you what fearful suggestions were offered to my mind. To run the vessel in among the breakers, to scuttle her, to set her on fire; anything seemed better than being taken.

We stood on; the atmosphere was so clear that it seemed impossible to escape the observation of the stranger. Just then a line of white foam appeared almost ahead. It was, I judged, a reef extending from the shore. Hauling round it, I observed an indentation in the coast, the first we had seen in that long, unbroken line of sandy shore. I steered towards it; an opening appeared; the lead was kept going; the wind favoured us; we shortened sail, and in a few minutes brought up within a high woody point, completely concealed from any vessel passing even close outside. As soon as the canvas was made snug, Charley and the boys hurried on shore to watch the strange ship. I followed them. She was steering it seemed for the very end of the reef. It struck me that perhaps she was looking for the very harbour in which we had brought up. If so, after all our efforts to escape, we should fall into her power. She drew closer and closer. Could the entrance of our harbour be seen from her deck?

"She is a good way to the eastward of the reef," observed Charley. "Her lead is going; she intends to bring up; she is looking for a harbour, and probably this one."

"She has missed it, though," observed Peter, "see, she is standing on to the eastward."

We remained on the height to which we had climbed, so hidden among the trees, that even if glasses had been directed towards us we should not have been seen. The stranger stood on for about three miles, and then, furling sails, brought up at the entrance of what we thought was perhaps a harbour, from the appearance of the land about it. Our hope was that she would send her boats to examine the harbour, and that if she went in we might put to sea late in the evening and escape her. We were, however, pretty safe in our present position, and we determined to profit by it.

We divided for this purpose into three parties: one to search for water, another to land the sheep, and a third to cut wood.

Charley and I set off to look for water. No signs were to be seen near where we landed. To the west the country looked especially barren, and we therefore agreed to go towards the east, although it was in the direction where the Frenchmen were supposed to be. We first explored the shore of the harbour, but found no stream running into it. Indeed it was a mere inlet of the sea and of small extent.

An old settler would have had far less difficulty than we experienced in discovering water, because he would have known exactly the sort of trees to look out for, such as grow only on the banks of streams or water holes.

"What a fearfully arid country this is," I observed to Charley, "I hope the part we are going to is not like it."

We were about to turn back in despair, when my companion, who was a little ahead, exclaimed that he saw some water just below us. We were not long in reaching a pure and clear pool or water-hole. We slaked our own thirst, but it was a long way to bring our sheep, while it would have been nearly impossible to fill our casks from it. We discovered, however, that water ran into it, therefore it must have an outlet. This we discovered, and traced it down towards the sea. Great was our pleasure to find that it ran into a small harbour, where we could quickly fill our casks. We hastened back, and trusting to be able to obtain as much as we required, brought a supply for the sheep from the vessel. We had as yet seen no natives; indeed, from the barren nature of the country, I could scarcely believe that any could exist there.

There were animals, however, for at night the boys, who were watching over the sheep, saw a creature approaching stealthily.

Mark fired, but missed, and then made chase. The creature got off, leaving some traces of blood seen in the morning. It was a dingo, or native dog. Early next day, the weather being very fine, we went in the boat with the casks to the small harbour we had discovered. We had brought some wooden pipes, and by placing them a little way up the stream, we were able to conduct the water so as to fall over a rock directly into the casks. While the boys were filling them, I climbed to a height at the mouth of the harbour. There the masts of the French ship were plainly discernible. This did not give me much concern, but directly afterwards I perceived, through my glass, a party of men coming along the beach and rapidly approaching us.



CHAPTER NINE.

LAND, HURRAH!

I hurried back to the boat. The casks were filled. We got them in. Should we remain in the harbour and try to conceal ourselves, or should we boldly pull out with the certainty of being seen, but yet with the possibility of getting back to the schooner and putting to sea before the privateer's men could reach us. We decided on the latter course, not a moment was to be lost. If we should succeed in getting out to sea we should be safe; for with so large a number of her people on shore it was not likely that the French ships would chase us.

"Now, my lads, pull for life and liberty!" I exclaimed, as I took the helm. "Gently at first till we are clear of the harbour. The Frenchmen won't see us till then."

The entrance was not very easy; as soon as we were outside the boys gave way. I every now and then turned my head round to ascertain if we were observed. The Frenchmen were most probably, as we had been, searching for water and did not see us. At length they caught sight of us, I concluded, as I saw them running along the shore as fast as their legs would carry them. My boys exerted their arms in a like manner. The Frenchmen, although they saw that we were beyond their reach, fired a shot at us. Another and another followed. It was done in mere wantonness, for they could not have known who we were. We were much too distant from them, however, for the shot to reach us. Heavily laden as was our boat, the boys urged her on fast, and in a short time we were alongside the schooner. Charley White, who had remained in charge, had heard the shots, and guessing who had fired them, had got the sheep on board with the wood and grass, and made everything ready for weighing. Happily, the breeze blew down the harbour. We speedily hoisted the boats on board and got the anchors up, and while the Frenchmen were climbing up a height which formed the eastern shore of the inlet, we ran out and were speedily clear of the land. We could see them through the glass stamping on the ground, apparently with rage at our having escaped them. The northerly breeze carried us in a short time out of their sight and indeed out of sight of the land itself. We were to the south of the equator, and that northerly wind was the hottest I ever experienced; from its very smell we could tell that it had blown over many hundred miles of burnt earth or dry sand. We kept south; for I purposed going round Van Diemen's Land instead of through Bass's Straits—not then very well known.

Next day we looked out with some anxiety for the Frenchman, but he was nowhere to be seen, and we entertained the hope that we had escaped him altogether.

We sighted the southern part of Van Diemen's Land. But as we should not have been allowed to land at the new settlement then even had we wished it, unless we had put in there in distress, we continued our course for Port Jackson. It was time for us to be in port. We had eaten up all the fowls except those we wanted to land; the biscuits were becoming mouldy, the water bad, the hay was nearly consumed, and the sheep, put on short allowance, were looking thin, though otherwise healthy.

The lads were continually going to the mast-head, each one eager to be the first to discover land.

We were edging in for the coast, from which I knew that we were not far distant, when Mark, who was aloft, shouted out, "Land! land! Hurrah! the land we are bound for!" I was afraid that in the exuberance of his delight he would have let go his hold, and come down by the run on deck. John thought so too, and with alarm expressed in his countenance, ran under him to catch him in his arms. He held on, however, and in a few seconds his brother and White joined him, and shouted with almost as much glee as he had exhibited, "Land! land!" We stood in directly for it, for by my calculations we were not far off Botany Bay, or rather Port Jackson, for that in reality was the port for which we were bound.

In England in those days people always spoke of Botany Bay, because that was the place where Captain Cook landed before Port Jackson was discovered.

A strong breeze was blowing, which carried us rapidly towards the land. The wind increased, and dark clouds were seen gathering in the south-east. I had heard of a black squall off that coast, and from the darkness of the sky and the increasing wind, I was afraid that one was now brewing. Charley White was of my opinion, I found. This made me more than ever anxious to get into harbour before dark. Still it increased the danger of approaching the shore, and the bay afforded no shelter to the wind then blowing. We flew rapidly on; the dim outline of the coast became more and more distinct. At length we could distinguish some lofty headlands directly ahead.

Charley White knew that two such headlands mark the entrance to Port Jackson, but he reminded me that there is a third, which forms the side of False Bay, and that more than one ship had run in there, and that instead of finding a sheltering harbour they had been thrown against the rugged cliffs which form its sides.

The knowledge of this increased my anxiety. The sky in the east became darker and darker, and the wind yet further increased, till it blew almost a hurricane; heavy seas came rolling up, topped with white foam, leaping in eagerness it seemed to catch the little craft which had borne us in safety so far over the bosom of the ocean, and was about to escape altogether from their power.

Peter stood at the helm. Charley and I kept a keen look-out ahead. As we flew on, the land became more distinct, and the outline of the headlands appeared; still darkness was coming on—a mistake would be fatal.

"I see the heads!" exclaimed Charley at length. "There is no mistake; I am certain of it. Starboard a little, Peter. That will do, she is heading right in for the entrance. Take the bearings now; keep her exact on that course. My life for it, we shall get safe into the harbour."

My anxiety was lifted off my shoulders. I had a confidence in Charley's judgment and knowledge which I should have placed in few people, but he had already shown me that he was to be trusted. The darkness now came rapidly on, and so heavy a sea got up, and so furiously blew the gale, that I often doubted whether the little May Flower would stand it. I doubt whether alone I could have found the entrance; but Charley never wavered in his opinion. Keeping his eye towards the land, now gradually becoming shrouded in deeper and deeper gloom, he continued to direct Peter how to steer.

After a time the land rose up close ahead of us, but there was a deep slit in the centre, which seemed each instant to increase in width, and then the cliffs appeared on either side. The roar of the waves was tremendous, deafening to our ears; but we felt them less and less, till, rushing on, a wide, open, smooth expanse lay before us, and we were in smooth water—the haven where we would be.



CHAPTER TEN.

OUR CONVICT HOST

Oh, the rest, the satisfaction, and, I may say, the thankfulness we felt. We shortened sail, and rounded to for a pilot, who came on board, and took us up to a berth opposite to Sydney, or the camp, as it was even then frequently called. As soon as we had dropped our anchor and furled sails, we one and all of us, young and old, my wife and daughters and my boys, and White and the crew, went down on our knees and returned thanks to the God of love and mercy who had thus brought us in safety in our small vessel across the great ocean. The tempest raged on without, but we lay quiet and secure within the harbour. I cannot describe to you how free from care I slept that night, and yet many people would have said that our troubles were only now going to begin.

As soon as the morning broke, all on board assembled on deck to look out on the new world to which we had come. The magnificent harbour, its surrounding heights and numerous points and inlets were the same then as now, but the ground on which the large city of Sydney now stands was then dotted over with a few Government buildings and merchants' stores, and here and there a large private residence, and not a few big public-houses; but most of the dwelling-houses were of plank, and some even of canvas, belonging to newcomers. Still there was evidence of progress, and as the day advanced, and people began to move about, a good deal of animation and activity was visible.

We were soon surrounded by boats, with people eager to know where we had come from, and what cargo we had got. Many of the visitors were not pleasant-looking customers, and I was in no wise inclined to encourage them on board. Those who did come looked with very great interest at the sheep, and I soon found from their remarks that they considered them of much value, and that the speculation was likely to prove a good one.

Before, however, I entered into any engagements, I went on shore to ascertain the state of affairs. I found that I could obtain a large grant of land free, and that as many convicts would be assigned to me as I could maintain, to cultivate the land. I knew a little about farming, and I forgot at the time that the convicts were not likely to become very pleasant servants, so that everything to be done appeared plain and easy before me, and in high spirits I returned on board.

My family were, of course, all eager to get on shore, but as they had no home to go to, it was arranged that I and Charley White and John should set out at once to select some land, while Peter remained on board to take care of the family and look after the vessel. We none of us knew much about land, as to which was likely to prove good or bad, but then we could take advantage of the experience of earlier settlers. We could ascertain how some had failed, and others had been successful, and follow, with such modifications as circumstances might require, the example of the latter. We each carried a knapsack with provisions, and a cloak to sleep in at night; said Charley, who was a good shot, had a gun, that he might kill a kangaroo, or any other animal we might fall in with, for food. We each of us had also a pocket compass, without which no man should attempt to travel in a new country like Australia.

My wife and daughters seemed very anxious when we were all ready and about to set out, but I reminded them that we were only just going to do what we had come all the way from England to do, and that there were no wild beasts or other dangers that I knew of to fear. "Oh, but there are those hideous black men, father," exclaimed Susan; "do take care of them, for I am sure that they look as if they would do any mischief."

"No fear," answered Charley, "they look worse than they are, and we shall be able to manage any number of them, even if they should take it into their heads to play us tricks. Mary is not afraid, you see." Mary looked as if she thought Charley would be able, with his single arm, to put to flight a whole host of blacks. Those we had seen, though ugly enough, were not very terrific-looking fellows. We heard, however, that away from Sydney, where the white settlers had found some blacks pilfering, and had shot them dead, the survivors had retaliated, and murdered two or three white men.

As horses were at that time very dear, I did not wish to purchase any for our journey, and none were to be hired. We had therefore to trudge forward on foot. One thing we wanted, and that was a guide who knew the nature of the country, the best mode of traversing it, and where farms were situated. Unaccustomed to walking, we felt very weary the first day of our journey as night approached, and yet no house appeared in sight. We were travelling along a high road made by convicts. The worst characters were employed on the roads, a labour which they especially detested. They were generally doubly convicted felons. They were worked in chains, but sometimes even then they broke away, and, taking to the bush, robbed every one they met, and murdered those who resisted them.

We thought at last that we should have to camp out, instead of getting the shelter of a roof, which we had expected to do. Just, however, as we were about to stop, a light appeared ahead. We made for it. The door of a cottage stood open. We entered. A fire was blazing on the hearth, with a large damper baking under the ashes, and a huge teapot of tea was steaming away on a table set out for a meal; while a joint of a kangaroo was among the good things which gladdened our eyes.

"You may walk in, strangers, and welcome," said a rough-looking man, who at that moment appeared from the back part of the cottage. "Here, missus, I see you have supper ready, where are you?" His wife, a buxom dame, came when called from an inner room, and welcomed us as her husband had done. We were soon seated at the table, doing justice to the kangaroo and damper. When our host and his wife heard that we had lately arrived, they were eager for us to tell them all the news from England, but what we had to say was not what they cared much to hear, that was very evident. As I examined their countenances, I did not like the expression they bore, nor warn the way they spoke altogether satisfactory. I suspected, and I was right, that they were convicts. At that time there were many of that class, who had already risen to considerable wealth, in the colony.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

OUR JOURNEY INLAND.

Although, as I have said, the faces of our host and hostess did not please me, and indeed gave me some disquietude, they both made themselves so pleasant, and were so civil and hospitable, that I could not help feeling it was ungrateful for me to harbour hard thoughts of them. While we were still at the table, a man came in and took his seat opposite to me. I supposed that he was living in the house, at all events that he was expected. He eyed me very hard, and then went on eating his supper. At last Charley White addressed me as Mr Biddulph, though he generally called me father. Immediately the stranger started up, and coming round to me and taking my hand, exclaimed, "Why, Mr Biddulph, I thought that I knew your face, but I little expected to see you out here." When he spoke I recognised a man to whom I had once rendered a considerable service. He was in debt. I gave him a sum of money to save him from prison, and he promised to repay me. Before he did so he disappeared, and I did not expect to receive a farthing, but on two occasions small amounts were sent to me, which I knew came from him, though the larger portion still remained unpaid.

"I hope that you are doing well, Jacob," said I, not thinking of the debt.

"Pretty well, but not as well as I could wish, Mr Biddulph," he answered. "I have been in the country about five years, and know it as well as most men, but there are one or two things on my mind which I should like to get free of. One of them is my debt to you, and the honest truth is, that though I have worked hard, of money I have none. Most of my wages have come in the shape of rum, and I never yet heard of a man getting rich on such payment as that."

I saw that our host and hostess exchanged glances, but I took no notice of them.

"If you know the country you are just the man I want, and can quickly repay me, and place me in your debt also," I observed. "I want a guide through the country, and some one who knows the nature of the land, to help me in choosing a farm."

"Just the thing I should like," he exclaimed, jumping at the proposal; "I'm a free man, and can go where I like."

I judged from this that he had not always been free. Our entertainers did not seem over well pleased at his so readily accepting my proposal. Still they treated us civilly, and we had no cause to complain. They brought us some sacks full of dry grass, which they spread on the floor, with some kangaroo skins to cover us; in those days sheep skins were rare. We lay down, commending ourselves to God, and felt as secure among convicts, with the possibility of a visit from the bush-rangers, as we had done in our tight little craft in the middle of the ocean.

We were on foot before daybreak, and with Jacob Rawdon as our guide, set out, as soon as we had taken some food, on our journey. Our host and his wife were evidently displeased at his leaving them.

After we had got to a distance I asked him why this was. "The reason is that I had become well-nigh their slave," he answered. "They paid me my wages in rum, which I drank mostly, or exchanged at a great loss for necessaries, and so you see that I am not a shilling the richer than I was when I first began to work for myself. Still I hope to be able to repay you, and it will be a great satisfaction to me to do so."

I did not doubt him, and had heard enough about the people I was likely to meet to know that it would not do to question him too closely as to why he had come to the country. I observed that he was frequently downcast, and that an expression of grief passed over his countenance; indeed, from several things he said, I felt great hopes that, whatever had been his errors, he was resolved to turn from them and to lead a new life. Under this belief I spoke seriously to him, and reminded him that he could not go on in his own strength, that the best man alive could not; and that if he would do right he must seek for aid from God the Father, through the influence of the Holy Spirit, trusting entirely and alone to the perfect sacrifice of Christ. He listened attentively. The doctrine seemed entirely new to him, but he did not in any way appear inclined to reject it. He walked on by my side, often silent, now and then he made a remark. His voice faltered. I saw that he was in tears. "Can God pardon such a vile, mad sinner as I have been?" he asked at length.

"If you are looking to Christ as the Lamb slain for you, you are pardoned, completely, entirely," I answered; "though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow in God's sight."

His step became elastic; a brightness spread over his countenance. "I see it, I see it, but I would not have believed it," I heard him saying to himself.

I cannot describe all the incidents of our journey.

One painful sight was a road-gang of convicts chained by the legs. They were certainly a villainous-looking set, mostly doubly convicted felons. Despair was depicted in the countenances of many. Jacob told me that he had known several who had been guilty of murder, that they might be hanged, and as they thought put out of their misery; others had committed suicide. Yet these men were once joyous, bright-cheeked, innocent little boys, the pride of their parents. Some had grown into manhood before they fell into open sin, though many probably were born among scenes of vice, ignorant even of the name of virtue or religion. "Still, debased as they are, all have souls to be saved," I thought to myself, and I resolved that, though I could do those poor wretches no good, I would do my best to improve the convicts assigned to me as servants.

We soon came to the end of the road, and struck across the country. Here Jacob's guidance became of great value. We were much interested by the novel appearance of the country, so different from anything we had seen before.

The huge gum-trees (eucalypti), with their evergreen, mistletoe-looking leaves, standing apart from each other, impressed us most. It seemed to us as if we were walking through a large park, with wide open spaces and clumps of trees here and there; only the leaves of the trees hung down long and thin, with their edges upwards, and the grass, though tall, was sparse, the blades growing apart from each other.

In some places the ground was covered with heather, and with other bright-coloured small flowers, but all without scent. This was supplied, however, in abundance from the groves of acacia, near which we passed. The birds with gay plumage, especially the parrots—parroquets climbing from branch to branch or flying amid the trees—made us feel still more that we had got into a new land.

The greatest excitement, however, was caused the first time we fell in with a kangaroo, now so scarce near the settled districts. Jacob seizing Charley White's gun said that he knew we should soon fall in with some more, and going on cautiously ahead he very soon fired, and then shouted to us to give chase. He had severely wounded but not killed a large kangaroo; and the animal went leaping over the ground with his long legs, leaving, however, a thick trace of blood behind him, which showed that he could not run a long course. This encouraged us to follow with greater zeal, and we enjoyed it the more as we dashed through the forest after having been shut up so many months in our little vessel. At last we got up close to the kangaroo, a huge fellow, who turned round boldly to meet us. My son John, being close to the animal, was going to strike him with a stick, when Jacob Rawdon cried out to him to beware, and he had just time to spring back as the animal struck at him with the formidable claw of one of his hinder feet. However, it was his last effort before the animal sank exhausted from loss of blood to the ground.

Jacob told us that he had seen many a dog killed when rushing in on a kangaroo standing at bay, by being ripped up, and that John had had a narrow escape. The countenance of the animal had so mild an expression that we could scarcely believe that he could commit so much damage.

We at once set to work to cut him up, and then, each of us loaded with the best parts selected by Jacob, we continued our journey. We slept at the cottage of a settler, who received us very kindly. We feasted on our kangaroo flesh, and were able to repay him with a portion of it. The next night we camped out near a stream. Jacob Rawdon shot a number of parrots, which we roasted for supper. The next morning we reached a lightly timbered, undulating country, with a river running through it. Rawdon stopped and looked round.

"Here, Mr Biddulph, if you take my advice you will pitch your tent. You have grass and water for sheep and cattle, and timber to build your house, and barns, and fences, and to keep your fires burning. What more do you desire? the soil is good; you may grow corn and vegetables and fruit-trees. You think that we are now in a desert: in a few years you will find yourself in the midst of civilisation."

I talked over the matter. Jacob showed me that he was right, and the boys agreed with him. He understood surveying, and we measured out roughly two thousand acres. He told me that as a free settler I should have no difficulty in obtaining a grant of it. We soon fixed on a site for a house—not far from the stream, but at a sufficient height to be out of its influence when swollen by rains. The stream ran into a navigable river not far off, and from a neighbouring height we could see it and the sea in the far distance. Charley and John were highly pleased with the country, and were eager to get back to Sydney to secure the grant, lest any one else should make application. Jacob laughed at their eagerness.

"It is a good big country, and there is room for all," he observed.

He was right. A large part of half a century has passed since then, and a steady stream of human beings has been setting in ever since, and still there is room for all who come wishing to work.

John wanted Charley to stay and camp out with him while Jacob and I went back; but to that Charley would not agree. He did not like leaving me to travel alone with a doubtful character such as Jacob, and he besides wished, I have no doubt, to see Mary. I, however, was very strongly disposed to trust Jacob.

We got back to Sydney without any adventure, and found all well on board. The sheep had greatly improved in appearance. I sold a ram and four ewes for a price which fully covered all the charges of the voyage; the rest of those I had brought I kept, that I might have a good stock with which I might commence on my own property. I at once also made application for a grant of the land I had seen, and obtained it without difficulty. I got an excellent price for the whole of my cargo, and soon found a purchaser for our little schooner. She was to run between Port Jackson and other ports, either opened or about to be opened, to the north and south. Altogether my speculation turned out a most successful one.

I felt something like Noah coming out of the ark when I landed, for the last time, with my wife and family and chattels and sheep; and having selected a quiet place, we all knelt down and returned hearty thanks to God for the protection He had afforded us during our passage across the ocean. We asked Him to guide and protect us for the future; and I am very sure that He heard our prayers.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

BUSH-RANGERS.

Having bought a couple of horses at great cost, and a light waggon, or dray rather, I stowed therein the most indispensable portion of our goods and provisions. The rest we stored, to fetch when we had got up a cottage. My wife and daughters insisted on walking, saying that they weighed more than all the tea and sugar we should require for many months, and they were sure it would be wise to take all the stores we could carry. The sheep were so tame that they did not require to be driven, but followed the boys, who took especial charge of them, like lambs.

Steadfast, the dog, ran alongside the horses, and Duchess, the cat, took up her post on the top of the dray with the cocks and hens, and cages containing the other birds. Bob Hunt and Dick Nailor, having made up their minds to quit the sea, speedily turned into sturdy draymen, though they kept to their sailor's rig, and could not easily lay aside their nautical expressions. "As the horses, or their immediate progenitors, had, however, come across the sea, it was but natural that they should understand them," observed Mark, when Dick shouted out occasionally, "Starboard Dobbin, lay the fore-topsail abaft, Bob;" "It's time to shorten sail, and bring the ship to an anchor;" or, "Luff, lad, luff, or you'll be into that tree on the lee bow." Sometimes when the ground looked rougher and more impracticable than usual, Dick would cry out, "Breakers ahead; we must haul our wind and see if we can't get round the shoal; won't do to wreck the waggon out here, where shipwrights', I mean blacksmiths', shops are pretty scarce, I fancy."

Notwithstanding the inexperience of our men, and our own also, indeed, we got on wonderfully well. We all gave our minds to the work, and thus made amends for other deficiencies. Rawdon proved a first-rate guide, and by his knowledge and sagacity we avoided many of the difficulties which might have impeded our progress.

Our boys and girls enjoyed the journey very much. They especially liked camping out at night, for the novelty of the thing, I suspect. The parrots and parroquets, and other gay-coloured birds, with which they now made an intimate acquaintance, were a source of great interest. The girls were rather horrified when several were brought in shot by Charley White and the boys. Rawdon at once plucked them, and put them before the fire to roast. Pretty Polly pie soon became a favourite dish in our establishment, as it was at that time in the houses of most settlers. He also showed us how to make damper, a wheaten cake baked under the ashes. At first it seemed very doubtful how it would turn out, as we saw the lump of dough placed in a hole, and then covered up with bits of burning wood.

Our chief prize was a kangaroo. The boys caught sight of the creature as we were moving on, and gave chase. Away he went, hopping along on his hind legs, with his little front ones tucked up, just as some women in cold weather hold their arms with their shawls drawn over their shoulders. Charley White, however, brought him down, and he soon shared the fate of the parrots. We pronounced the flesh not very inferior to mutton, and more suited to our taste in a hot climate. A good sportsman need not starve in the fertile parts of Australia, but there is one great necessary of life, of which he may find himself fearfully deficient—that is, water. We were obliged to make very irregular stages, that we might camp near a stream or water hole; and explorers dare not move from one source of supply till they have discovered a fresh one, at which they and their animals may drink.

At length we reached the spot we had fixed on for a location, and of which I had procured a grant. I had to make certain arrangements before I could get the assigned servants, or, in other words, the convicts who would be required to carry on farming operations on a large scale. I was glad not to have them in the first instance, and we were so strong-handed that we could do very well without them.

My wife and girls were delighted with the position of their new home. We camped on a spot close to a situation which seemed the best suited for our proposed house, on a gentle slope, with a hill covered with trees behind it, and a stream some distance below us. The spot was pretty clear of wood, that is to say, just out of the bush, and there was excellent pasture on either side for our sheep and for our cattle, whenever we should obtain them. They were not so plentiful as they now are.

As soon as we had pitched our tent we all knelt down and returned thanks to that merciful God who had brought us across the ocean into this lovely haven of rest—so it seemed, for we thought not then of the troubles before us.

What a privilege it is to be able to go direct to God in prayer, through the sure mediation of the loving Jesus, pleading His perfect, all-sufficient sacrifice—His precious blood shed for sinful man on Calvary. I felt it then: I have felt it ever since; and I would not give up that privilege of prayer for anything else the world can bestow. I have sometimes thought what a fearful thing it would be for a man who has enjoyed that blessing to lose it altogether, if that were possible; to be told, "You must not pray! God will not hear your prayers! From henceforth you must have no communion with the Most High!" The thought has just occurred to me as I have been speaking of this our first night on our new location.

We, of course, gave water to our sheep and penned them carefully before lying down to rest. We knew that we had not so many enemies to guard against as there are in many countries; but still there were some. First, there were dingoes, or native dogs, who play the part of wolves as well as foxes, in Australia, by attacking sheepfolds and poultry yards: they were certain in an out-station to visit us. Then we were told there were natives who might very likely come in the night to steal a fat sheep, or to attack us if they could find us unprepared; and lastly, there were some bush-rangers already abroad—ruffians who had escaped from road-gangs, and not being able to return to the settlement, lived a wild, desperate life in the bush, and procured their stores by plundering drays coming up from Port Jackson, or out-stations where they thought anything was to be got. However, as none had been heard of for some time, we had no apprehensions about them.

We were too strong a party to invite attack, and only a very hungry, and therefore desperate man, would think of molesting us. Still, it was prudent for one to remain on watch. Charley White took the first watch, as he had done at sea. Peter was to take the second. I heard Charley call him up, but not feeling disposed to sleep myself, I told him to rest on, as I knew that he was very tired, and that I would look out instead. I took a gun in my hand, and walked round and round our little camp. There was no moon, but the stars were very bright, proving the clearness of the atmosphere. Now and then I stopped and gazed up at them, admiring their beauty, and thinking how greatly increased must be our powers of comprehension before we should understand all about them. I must have been standing thus silent and quiet for some time, when, casting my eyes down on the earth, I thought I saw an object moving slowly among some brushwood or scrub at a little distance. I stood still a minute longer, and just as I was moving the creature came out of the scrub. It was a dingo, I had little doubt of that; I was on the point of lifting my gun to my shoulder to fire, when probably seeing me, it ran quickly back. I instantly went after it, hoping to get a fair shot at the other side of the scrub, which was but a small patch of underwood. I felt sure that he would go through it, and followed. I worked my way along—no difficult matter where the scrub is open, as it generally is out here—and once more caught sight of the creature stealing cautiously away at no great distance. They are cunning beasts, those dingoes. Often I have knocked one over, and left him for dead, when after a little time, turning round, I have seen him stealing off; but the moment he saw that he was observed, dropping down and looking as dead as before. I was sure that I should hit the dingo and prevent him coming again to visit our sheep; so I raised my gun to fire. At that instant I received a blow on the side of my head, which would have brought me to the ground had its strength not been broken by a bough. My hand was on the trigger, and I fired my gun. A man stood before me, and closing, attempted to wrench the weapon out of my hand. I had too firm a hold of it, however, for I was a stronger man than he. He was active though, and tried all sorts of ways to get the better of me. Finding that he could not succeed, he uttered several coos—a sound heard a long way in the bush, and just then coming into use among the settlers. Again he closed with me, so that I could not strike him with my gun, while he tried with his legs to trip me up. I thought that it was now high time for me to cry out; so I shouted at the top of my voice, as loud as if I was hailing a ship at sea in a gale of wind. It rather astonished my friend, I suspect; especially when I dropped my gun, and seizing him in my arms, lifted him off the ground. He begged me to let him go. "No, no," I answered, "you wanted to rob me; but you find that you have caught a Tartar, and I shall not release you till you give an account of yourself." The cooing had been heard by the man's companions, for just as I had mastered him, two men appeared coming out of the wood which covered the hill under which we had camped. My assailant saw them, and began to struggle to free himself from me; but starvation and rough living had weakened him. Still it was hard work to get him along while he struggled in the hope that his comrades would come to his assistance. They were getting very near indeed, when I heard a shout close to me, and as the bush-rangers were darting towards me, Charley, Peter, the other boys, and Dick Nailor came rushing up from the other side.

The two bush-rangers took to flight, leaving their companion in our power.

"You have got the better of me, I must own!" he exclaimed. "Perhaps you will not believe me when I say that all I wanted was your gun and ammunition. If I had got that I might have demanded some food, for I am starving, but I did not wish to harm you or any one else."

"A curious way you took to prove that, by trying to knock me down," I answered, as Dick Nailor relieved me of the charge of the man, by taking hold of his collar and one arm and forcing him onwards.

"Come along with us to our camp, and we shall learn more about you."

The man said nothing in return, and he felt that in the grasp of the giant resistance was useless.

We quickly reached the camp, where we found Bob Hunt trying to comfort my wife and daughters, who had been much alarmed at hearing the shot fired and finding me absent.

By the light of the lantern held to the prisoner's face we saw that he was pale and haggard, that his hair was long and uncombed, and that a razor had not touched his chin or lips for many a day; while his clothes were rudely patched, and even thus hardly hung together. Thus we could not but believe the account he gave of his hunger and suffering—indeed, I had heard that most of the men who had taken to the bush soon died of starvation, or were killed by the blacks.

We quickly put some biscuits and cheese before our prisoner. He ate of it ravenously, giving way occasionally to an hysterical laugh. His eyes sparkled when I gave him some rum and water. I saw that he required a stimulant, and I would not allow him to take any more solid food. Compassion for the poor wretch predominated above any other feeling.

It was useless to inquire what circumstances had brought him to that condition. Sin was the cause of it, of course; but he required help, and, in spite of his attack on me, I felt that it ought to be given him.

While he was eating, it struck me that I was well acquainted with his countenance.

After looking again and again, I felt nearly sure that I was right, strange as it seemed; and grateful I was that I had not in our struggle taken his life or injured him.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

OUR PRISONER.

We kept a strict watch over our wretched prisoner. For his own sake I did not wish him to escape, and, far from having an intention of delivering him up to justice, my earnest desire was to try and reclaim him. I think that, under the circumstances, I should have acted as I did had he been an indifferent person; but I felt sure, from the peculiarity of his features, that he was the youngest son of my kind old patron and friend, Mr Wells. Often in his childhood had he sat on my knee when I came home from sea, and often he had listened attentively to the accounts of my adventures. He was a pretty, interesting little fellow. As he grew up he altered very much; became disobedient to his parents, and ultimately growing wilder and wilder, went, as the expression is, to the bad. For some years I had not even heard of him.

Worn out with fatigue, our prisoner slept on till after the sun was up, and we were busy in marking out the ground for our slate hut, and making preparations for cutting down the nearest trees with which to build it. More than once I looked at his countenance while he slept, and called my wife to look at him. We were both convinced that my surmise was correct.

On awaking at last he gazed round with an astonished, puzzled look, and sighed deeply. I happened to be near, and went up to him.

"Arthur!" I said, gently, "what brought you here?"

"What!—Who are you?—How do you know me?" he exclaimed, springing to his feet. "I'll answer you though—my own folly and vice and sin. I am in your power. I did not wish to take your life, but I hoped to get your gun and then to force you to give me and my mates food—that was all. You may, however, take me into camp and deliver me up to the governor and his men; if they hang me at once I shall be grateful to you, for I am weary of this life. I am a mere slave to my mates; they would murder me in an instant if I should become burdensome to them; and, bad as I am, they are so much worse that I can even now have no fellowship with them."

Thus the unhappy man ran on, eagerly discharging, as it were, at once his long pent-up feelings and thoughts. For weeks and months he had been wandering about, nearly starved, and ill-treated and despised by his companions in crime. And this man had been in the rank of a gentleman, and had been educated as one, and had once felt as one! I know to a certainty that there are numbers of such wandering about the world, and others who have died miserably,—outcasts from their friends and, more terrible fate, from their God,—who little thought when they made their first downward step in the path of sin to what a fearful termination it was leading them.

I let our unhappy prisoner grow calm before I again spoke to him.

"You asked me," I said, "how I know your name, and who I am." And I then went over many of the incidents of his early life, when he was a happy, pleasant-mannered little boy at home.

He made no reply; but he seemed to guess who I was, and bent down his head between his hands. I saw tears dropping from between his fingers. It was a good sign. I thought of the parable of the prodigal son. "He has been eating the husks: perhaps he will soon say, 'I will arise and go to my Father.'" I prayed that the Holy Spirit would strive mightily with him, and make him feel not only his sad moral and physical condition, but his terribly dangerous spiritual state. Such prayers are, I believe, never made in vain.

I was eager, I must own, to begin my mornings work, but I did not wish at that moment to interrupt the man's thoughts. I waited therefore patiently till he should speak. After a time he lifted up his head, and said, "Who are you?" I told him that I remembered him as a boy—that his countenance was unchanged—and that his father had been my benefactor.

"Thank God for that! if such as I am may utter that name," he exclaimed. "You'll not have me hung, then; you'll not deliver me up to a shameful death?"

"No indeed, Arthur," I answered; "I will rather do my best to protect you. I do not know what crimes you have committed, and I do not wish to know; but I hope to see you restored to tranquillity of mind, and that you may find joy and peace in believing on that one only Saviour, through whom you can obtain pardon for your transgressions and reconciliation with God."

I then and there unfolded to him God's merciful plan of salvation. I was sure that then was the time. His heart was softened; he was ready to receive the truths of the gospel. It was a happy thing for me that I knew the plan of salvation before I left England. I was thus enabled to impart it to this poor man and to others. His idea was that if he could but be very sorry for all his misdeeds, and commit no more, and work away hard to please God in some sort of fashion, he might have a chance of going to heaven at last. He would scarcely believe me when I told him that I found nothing of that sort throughout the Gospels and Epistles; that Christ, the anointed One, had done all that was required for us sinners; that all we have to do is to accept His glorious offer, by faith in the perfect efficacy of His atoning blood, shed for all mankind on Calvary. These truths and many more I tried to explain to Arthur, and it was satisfactory to mark the readiness with which he accepted them.

He was for some time utterly prostrated and scarcely able to stand up, much less to work. We, of course, were all very busy from sunrise to sunset, and I could pay very little attention to him during the day. I gave him, however, the few books we had brought with us; but I was glad to see that the Book of books, long unread, was his chief delight. He would sit with it in his hand all day, and at night would draw near to the fire, and pore over its pages as long as the flames burnt with sufficient brightness. I felt sure from the first that he was in earnest, though J—- warned me that he was only shamming, and that as soon as he could have a chance he would be off with anything he could lay hands on. I said that I had no fear about the matter, and should not keep a watch over him.

We had pretty hard work, you may be sure, and I doubt if any men could have worked harder; but we kept our health very well—indeed, in spite of the heat, I never felt stronger. We had first our own dwelling-house to get up, and then the huts for the men. Our own abode was, indeed, but a hut—larger than the others, with divisions; but there was very little finish or ornament about it. To be sure, it was a good deal larger than the cabin of the May Flower, though the girls complained that it was not half as neat; nor was it, indeed. Neatness was to come by and by, we said. With many settlers, it must be owned, it never comes at all. We, however, before long put up a verandah, almost a necessary appendage to a house in that hot climate. There was thus always shade and shelter on one side of the house or the other, and here my wife and daughters could sit and work, and carry on all sorts of operations.

Our very first work, I should have said, was to make a pen for the sheep, where they would be secure from the natives or dingoes at night. In the daytime, when out feeding, they could be easily kept together, and they were so tame that they would follow us about like dogs. Their offspring learnt the same custom; and so instead of the sheep being driven, as in England, they throughout the whole of the country follow the shepherd wherever he leads, and know his voice. Often have I thought of the parable of the Good Shepherd when I have heard a shepherd, in a slightly undulating or hilly country, calling to his sheep, and seen the flock come trooping over the ridges from afar, and gradually drawing round him, not one being missing.

As soon as we could, also, we got a garden fenced in and dug up, and a paddock for wheat. We had no wish to starve, and at that time provisions were often very scarce and enormously dear in the colony. At one time, indeed, in consequence of the non-arrival of store-ships from England, the settlers were nearly starved.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

A SETTLER'S LIFE.

The number of people who knew anything about farming or gardening was very small, and continued so long after the colony was settled. At first, indeed, there were none, and they actually did not know what to do with the seeds which had been sent out with them.

At the time of our arrival a change for the better had taken place, and a large proportion of free settlers were agriculturists, who soon taught the labourers they employed, and several farms were established.

We little thought at that time of the vast power of production possessed by Australia. Day after day we worked on, cutting down trees, splitting them with wedges, building huts, putting up fences, and digging and planting. The latter operations were very important; from the number of mouths we should soon have to feed, the expense of providing food would be very great unless we could produce some on the estate.

As soon as Arthur Wells had recovered his strength he willingly set to work, and no man could have laboured harder than he did. He knew more than any of us did about farming, though we had some books to help us. What was of great consequence, also, he understood the climate; for it was some time before we could bring ourselves to remember that the Australian spring is in October; and that Christmas is the hottest time of the year; and that the periods of seed-time and harvest are the opposite to those of the old country.

Jacob, besides being a good guide through the country, understood felling trees, and splitting timber, and putting up huts—very valuable arts in that country. He might have been a first-rate watchmaker or jeweller, have known Hebrew or Greek, or been a good draughtsman, or kept accounts in excellent style, or dressed to perfection, and been able to leap with the most perfect grace and nimbleness over counters, and yet have starved. Rough backwoodsmen, blacksmiths, carpenters, and ploughmen have from the first been able to secure good wages in Australia. Other men have succeeded by turning their hands to do whatever might offer; but for such men as I have mentioned, the demand remains as at first unabated.

Having got through the work requiring immediate attention, I resolved to return to Sydney to bring up the remainder of our stores, and to procure a few assigned servants. Such was the name given to convicts when made over to the charge of private persons. The duty of the master was to find them employment, to feed them according to a certain scale, and more than that, the original intention of those who formed the plan was that he should do his best to instruct and improve them. I am afraid that not many took much trouble about that; but some few conscientious masters did all they could, and the consequence was that very many poor fellows who might have been utterly lost, had they been turned loose at home, became reformed characters, and respectable members of society.

I took Dick Nailor and Mark with me to look after the dray, thinking that the assigned men might know very little about the matter.

We had a prosperous journey into Sydney. The first thing I did was to sell the horses, for which there was a great demand; and I consequently got a high price for them, more than double what I gave. Instead I bought four working oxen, ten milch cows, and a fine bull. There would be time enough to procure horses when they became more plentiful. Though useful, of course they were not absolute necessaries; and I hoped from the stock I had now got, to become possessed in a few years of a fine herd of cattle. I might have had fifty servants assigned to me, but I accepted only six; and those I had the opportunity of selecting. I determined with these and the assistance of our own party to bring under cultivation as many acres of ground as I could manage.

A settler's life in a new country is not all plain sailing, as we were to find—though in many instances it may be somewhat monotonous. We had some expectation of meeting with an adventure, for we heard that several bush-rangers were out, who were levying black-mail on all travellers. We resolved at all events not to be taken unawares.

I felt pretty sure that we might trust our new men, and Dick Nailor was a man not to be attacked with impunity even by the most daring of robbers.

We found when we moved on that we had not more men than we required for conducting the dray and driving the cattle. Had we possessed more experience, half our number would have driven twenty times as many cattle as we had, and more than that, with ease.

We made good about twelve miles in the day. At night we had enough to do to keep our valuable cattle from straying. We found the simplest plan was to light a number of fires in a circle, beyond which the animals were seldom disposed to move. It, however, required constant attention to keep up the fires, for as soon as the flames dropped, the animals seemed no longer disposed to be restrained within the circle.

This occupied most of our party during the night, so that only two or three at a time could get rest. We slept very fast when we did sleep, to make up for lost time—as Mark observed. Either Dick Nailor or I was always on the watch, as I did not think it prudent to trust the convicts, though they had but little temptation to play us any tricks. They were pretty well aware that they would have no prospect of setting up for themselves, even if they should run away with our cattle.

We had got within three or four miles of our station, but as we could not reach it before dark, we camped as usual, hoping that we might get there the next morning.

Scarcely had we unyoked our oxen than several blacks appeared coming towards us from a neighbouring bush. I was not aware at the time of the dislike oxen have to the natives, and was astonished at the state of excitement into which the animals were put as the blacks drew near. We had the greatest difficulty, indeed, in restraining the animals from breaking off into the bush. I accordingly, followed by Dick Nailor, went forward to meet our visitors, both of us, however, carrying our guns, for we could not tell what might be their intention. They stopped when they saw the cattle snorting and turning about, seemingly as unwilling to draw near them as the animals were to have their company. They seemed to be a tribe not accustomed to white men, for they did not understand a word we spoke, nor could we what they said. We discovered, however, that they wanted something—it was tobacco,—we gave them some. We showed them that we were ready to be on friendly terms. They then begged for something to drink—rum, and seemed very much astonished to find that we had none. To my belief they had never themselves tasted any, but had heard of the white man's fire-water from other blacks—his curse—their destruction.

After a little time they intimated to us, so we understood them, that there was something they wished to show to us in the bush at a little distance. They seemed so well disposed that I did not at the time dream of treachery. I told Dick Nailor that I would go forward and see what they wanted to show us. Even Dick hesitated.

"They may mean well, but if they don't they will have us at terrible advantage all alone in the woods, and they are fearfully ugly fellows to look at, they must allow," he observed, coming up close to me, to protect me rather than to seek protection for himself.

Still the blacks seemed so eager that we should go, and made so many signs to us, that I was sure that there was something particular they wished to show us. Had I been as well acquainted with them as I afterwards became I should not have ventured. Still the greater number of murders they have committed must be laid to the white man's charge. They merely retaliated when treated by him with fearful cruelty and injustice. The white man set them an example which the savages copied. True, many of the convicts were reprobates and outcasts. Not once, but frequently men have gone forth with fire-arms and shot down the blacks as if they had been wild beasts. I speak of days happily gone by.

I called out to Mark to keep in the camp with the men and beasts, and Dick and I followed the black, I repeat that it was a very unwise thing to do.

However, on we went. I told Dick to keep his eyes about him, and his gun ready for use.

Having camped early, there was still plenty of daylight; indeed, the blacks themselves will never move at night, from superstitious feelings,—the dread of meeting evil spirits: of good ones they have no notion. There were a good many blacks about, so we signed them to go on ahead, and that we would follow. They did so—when suddenly they drew back, and we saw before us, on the side of an open glade, under a thick-stemmed tree, a rude hut, and just before it, on the ground, two men, wretched, haggard creatures.

On drawing nearer we discovered that the forms alone of the men were there, the spirit had fled. Not a particle of food was to be found near them, but there were the ashes of a small fire, and near it two or three pieces of burnt leather. They had been endeavouring, when too late, to satisfy the cravings of hunger with such food. We had more to discover.



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

CONCLUSION.

It was a sad sight, but what we saw when we got closer was of even sadder significance. The blacks pointed to one of the bodies which lay stretched out. There was a cut on the head, and, as if just fallen from the right hand of the other man, an axe. There could be no doubt that the last act of one of the famished men had been to murder his companion—for what object it was horrible to think.

But who were these poor wretches? We were convinced that they were bush-rangers. It was even possible that they were the late companions of Arthur Wells. He alone, however, could answer that question. We made signs to the blacks that we would bury the bodies the following day, but that we had not time to do so then. They seemed to understand us, and apparently contentedly accompanied us from the spot. Although convinced that they did not intend us any harm we were watchful as before. This was the more necessary as the sun had set, and it would be difficult to defend ourselves in the dark.

We pushed on, therefore, to the camp as rapidly as we could. We found all safe, and collected some articles which we thought would please the natives. We presented them. They went away highly pleased.

We had scarcely sat down to tea round our watch-fire when curious shrieks and shouts—most unearthly sounds—reached our ears. They came from the direction where we had last seen the natives. Some of the men declared that the noise must be produced by evil spirits, and were in a great fright; but Mark, who was too sensible to entertain so foolish a notion, asserted that it must be made by the natives, and expressed his wish to go and see what they were about. He wanted Dick Nailor to go with him. Now Dick, though very big, and utterly fearless of human foes, had not quite made up his mind as to the cause of the strange sounds. I, therefore, fully agreeing with Mark, told Dick to take charge of the camp, and that I would accompany my boy. Poor Dick was really unhappy at this; but I, wishing to prove to the men that although Satan was busy enough in the country, it was not by making strange sounds in the bush, persisted in my determination. Mark, laughing heartily at the fears of our companions, set off with me.

We had not got far when we saw the light of a fire burning in an open space among the trees, and figures passing in front of it. For a short time the fire was hid from us by some thick bushes, but when we had got round them we both stopped, and I must confess even I drew my breath somewhat short, for just on the other side of the fire appeared twenty or more skeletons dancing about in the most fantastic manner. Suddenly they would disappear; then again return and frisk about more furiously than before. I rubbed my eyes, I thought that I must be in a dream, or deceived in some way or other. I asked Mark what he saw.

"A skeleton dance, and a very curious thing it is too, but it's some trick of those black fellows," he whispered. "Jacob was telling me that they have meetings at night and play all sorts of pranks. I caught sight of the figure of a man just now, between us and the fire, and I could not see through his ribs. He was no skeleton, at all events."

We crept cautiously nearer, and then saw that what looked like the bones of skeletons were merely white marks painted on the bodies of the blacks, and that when they turned round these were concealed from us. Still I must say that their appearance was at first quite sufficient to startle anybody not prepared to see them.

Not wishing to disturb the natives we retreated quietly to our camp, but though we described the curious sight none of the men seemed disposed to go out and look at it. The natives kept up their revels for a considerable time, and prevented us from getting much sleep. They effectually prevented the cattle, however, from straying in their direction. The natives were keeping what is called a Corroboree, and I do not know that it is a much more barbarous amusement than many of more civilised people.

We were off by daybreak, and in three hours reached our settlement. All had gone well, and I need scarcely say that we were heartily welcomed. My purchase of cattle was greatly admired, and very valuable stock they proved. I had still a good amount of cash left as capital, so that I could go on for two or more years without having to sell any stock, and I now hoped that the land would produce enough corn to feed all those employed on the farm, with some over. I forgot to say that in the afternoon Dick Nailor, with Arthur and two other men, set out to bury the bodies of the white men. My suspicion was confirmed. They were Arthur's wretched companions. Their fate has been that of hundreds who have attempted to follow the same course. It made a deep impression on Arthur Wells, who ultimately became, through God's grace, a thoroughly changed man.

I was not disappointed in any of my expectations. God prospered me on every side. I was able to purchase more sheep in the course of another year, so that my flocks rapidly increased. Small flocks, as may be supposed, do not pay. In the course of time we got up a better and larger house. We wanted one indeed, for our family increased in a way we had not expected. Charley White was engaged, I should have said, to my eldest girl, Mary; and just before they were to be married he started off in the dray to Sydney. Whether or not Mary knew why he had gone we could not tell. He was a very short time absent, and when the dray appeared, there, seated under an awning in front, was a nice-looking old lady, and Mary exclaimed, "That's Aunt Priscilla," but instead of her cats she was accompanied by two young ladies.

It appeared that Charley had been sending home such glowing accounts of the colony, that Miss Beamish was seized with a strong desire to come out and join her nephew; and, like a sagacious woman, had brought out with her the commodity just then and ever since most required, in the shape of two honest, well-educated, nice-looking girls. Peter and Mark took a great fancy to them, and before long they became their wives.

Miss Beamish got a grant of land close to mine, on which Charley put up a house for her, he and his wife living with her and managing the farm, which she, indeed, made over to him and his heirs, of whom there were, in the course of a few years, no small number.

I was soon able to start Peter in an estate of his own; and Mark a few years afterwards.

Arthur Wells obtained a free pardon and married Susan. I did not consider that his having been a convict should be a bar to their marriage, for I never met a more thoroughly reformed character. He made her an excellent husband.

All my children married as they grew up—the girls at an early age, but the boys had to wait some time before they could find suitable wives. However, in the course of years—I need not say how many—all my children happily married, were settled either with me on my original property, much increased both in value and size, or else on estates around me.

I have been greatly blessed in life. I have, however, a difficulty which I do not think I shall ever get over—it is to remember the names of my grand-children. Already upwards of fifty muster together at our family meetings, and as far as I can judge, that number may be more than doubled in the course of a few years.

Australia still affords a fine field for settlers, but they must be industrious, persevering, and energetic; idlers, rogues, and vagabonds will starve there, as everywhere else. As in most parts of the world so in Australia; trust in God, industry, and perseverance will conquer all difficulties and lead on to success.

THE END