and as I had determined to use, instead of nothing, lake salt, I took a team of bullocks and went alone to a dry lake seven miles off, gathered the salt, carried it up the bank in a bucket, loaded the dray, and got back to the station before night. Salt dissolved and applied hot might check but could not cure the disease; and I could now only imitate politicians, when supply is refused, by resigning.

As illustrative of the character of the blacklegs employed on the stations in those days a hack race by appointment was to take place on the eastern bank of the lake. Neighbours from all directions came with their favourite hacks. To the astonishment of the sportsmen, a small cob belonging to the station beat everything. Next day I heard one of the men saying that he had taken good care to make the master's horse win. How? "Well,” he said, "I watched my chance when all the neighbours were inside at lunch, and gave every horse except master's a bucket of water."

Before shearing I had taken the sheep over to the Barwon, opposite to the Rev. Mr. Tuckfield's mission station, Buntingdale, to wash them, Our bullock-driver, who had been a tailor in London, but subsequently in the service of Her Majesty in Tasmania, was addicted to the use of big Ds. A black boy about twelve years old heard him swearing much one day. The boy came near and looked at him, then said "You big one swear. and by you go to H. Then you big one yabber, givet me water, givet me water. But boorak (no or not) water-only vinegar." This made a great impression on the mind of the bullock-driver. "To think," he said, "that I should be reproved by a blackfellow !"

By

At the time I returned to the neighbourhood of Geelong, or shortly after, there was much political excitement

over the first election of four members to represent the whole of what is now Victoria in the Sydney Assembly. Dr. Lang was one of the candidates. I was introduced to him by Miss Drysdale; and shortly afterwards, upon his recommendation, I removed to the vicinity of Melbourne to act as tutor in a private family. I had then an opportunity of examining Melbourne and its neighbourhood, and studying colonial life and manners, to be referred to hereafter.

When residing at Miss Drysdale's during the first months of 1843, there was a magnificent comet visible every evening for a long period after sunset in the south-west. It had two tails of great length leaning southwards from the perpendicular-the two tails were of about equal length, of a brilliant. white light, and terminating in sharp points with a wide space between. The mineral springs at Drysdale were then well known, and agriculture had made some progress on the Barrabool Hills, the rich black soil of which, overlying limestone, early attracted attention. Dingoes were very numerous. I made a log trap to catch them, but native cats were in such numbers, that they devoured the baits meant for the dingoes. Miss Drysdale, with her companion, Miss Newcomb, were amongst the early agriculturists; and in the late Mr. John Armstrong they had one of the best station managers I have ever met with. He was a manager of men, which is a quality of the first importance on a sheep station. The ladies had an agricultural farm called Criyoul, where Drysdale is now. To supply a great want, I made a full-sized winnowing machine. There was no iron used except nails. The cog-wheels were made out of cross-cuts of green she-oak, and fried with fat in a fryingpan. They stood well and did not split; a fact which may be of use to some struggling selector.

It is evening and springtime in one of England's loveliest counties. far as the eye can reach extend rich pastures and undulating meadowland, broken by lines of hedgerows; and bounding the horizon rises a chain of hills, blue in the distance. The eye is caught here and there by a gleam of silver from the noble river which flows majestically through this fair land to its grave in the Northern Ocean, making one think (as rivers always do), of life and its vicissitudes and changes. Some such thoughts were vaguely passing through the mind of a man, who, bearing in dress, appearance, and the appointments of the animal upon which he rode, every token of being one of the world's favoured few, yet looked dissatisfied, and as if life held little of interest for him. The face was handsome with its clearly cut features, dark eyes, and fair drooping moustachehandsome enough to win love from many a woman, and to steal away her heart from her own keeping. The owner was young, strong, and wealthy, but a nameless air of listlessness and ennui threw its shade over his countenance, and the mouth under the long moustache was weak and undecided, and gave fair index to his character.

The lane down which he was riding was bright with spring flowers, but the ground was very uneven and broken, and suddenly without any warning, and owing, perhaps, principally to the carelessness of the rider, his horse stumbled, tried in vain to recover himself, and finally fell headlong down, crushing his master's foot beneath him. Thus rudely aroused from his musings, Claud Morton struggled to free himself, and after a few efforts succeeded. The

horse rising to his feet, stood trembling

and panting, and although faint with pain, Claud stroked and patted him, and tried to mount again. But his crushed and bruised foot caused him such agony that he was obliged to give up the attempt, and to sit down and rest at the foot of the hedge.

"A nice position this for Captain Morton! I wish I--"

But what the captain wished will never be known in this world, for a deadly sickness overpowered him, the sea seemed to roar in his ears, his sight failed, and, for the first time in his life, he sank back in a dead faint.

When, after an interval of fully half an hour, he opened his eyes, it was to see bending over him a lovely girlish face, pale now from anxiety and fear.

"Where am I?" and he made an effort to rise.

"Oh, do lie quiet, please! I thought you were dead, it seems such a long time since I found you lying here!"

Making a fresh trial, Claud succeeded in raising himself upon his elbow, and looked inquiringly at his companion.

"I was coming down the lane," said she, in answer to his look, "and I saw your horse, and wondered what brought him there. Then I saw you, and I have been trying to recover you ever since."

"And will you tell me who is the young lady whom I have to thank for such kindness ?"

"My name is Elsie Miller, and I live at the farmhouse which you can see through the trees. I am going there now to get help for you; I shall soon be back again."

Before she could put her intention into action, Claud caught her hand, and looking earnestly into her face, said softly-"You are very good to me."

shy as a wood violet or primrose. The man at her side was strongly and compactly built, and his frame that of a young Hercules. His face was plain, but redeemed by a pair of large, dark grey eyes, which seemed to look into the very heart of those upon whom he bent his gaze. Curious, fathomless eyes but very soft was their expression, as he looked at Elsie, and bent slightly to speak to her. For the rest, his features were marked and well cut, with a suspicion of sternness about the lines of the firm, decided mouth.

Claud watched them, and smiled. "The old, old story, I suppose. What a lovely face she has! Denise could not hold a candle to her. And she is not a dollish beauty in spite of her pink and white complexion and golden hair; there is character in her face too. I should like to have a talk with her, and see of what stuff she is made."

Raising himself slightly, he leant his elbow upon the window-sill, and as the pair approached, said quietly, "Good evening, Miss Miller."

The girl started, smiled, and came forward, and her companion raised his hat, and walked away down the garden.

"I hope you feel better," she said. "Auntie says that you will be quite well again in a day or two."

"Thank you, yes. But how am I to show my gratitude to you for your kindness to a wounded soldier ?"

"Please do not try. I did not do anything worthy of thanks."

"Pardon me, but I think differently. Will you tell me, Miss Elsie, if it is Mrs. Ruthven whom you refer to as your aunt ?"

"Yes. My father and mother died when I was only five years old, and I have lived here with Uncle and Aunt ever since. They are like parents to me."

"And the young man who was talking to you?"

That is my cousin Hugh, Mr. Ruthven's only son. But now may I ask you a question? Are you really a soldier?" "Really and truly, Miss Elsie." "Oh, then, please tell me about your life in the army. If I were only a man

I would be a soldier."

"I do not think you would like it all. A soldier's life is very rough sometimes, and then there is the chance of being sent to some outlandish place for years. But if war should break out, I hope our regiment will be one of the first sent out," and the young soldier's eyes sparkled and his cheeks glowed at the thought.

Then with gentle deference and courtesy in word and manner, he told her of life in the field, and the garrison, of merry companions, and of sad and pathetic incidents, and Elsie thought that she had never seen anyone so handsome, so brave, or so manly. She compared him with her cousin (greatly to poor Hugh's disadvantage), and thought him like one of those knights of old, of whom she read in her favourite books; surely Sir Galahad, the stainless knight, had not been nobler or purer than this young hero.

So they talked until the stars began to show themselves, and the crescent moon hung, a silver bow, above the dark tree tops, and then Elsie, with a start of recollection, said good-night, and vanished.

CHAPTER II.

The next day was spent by Claud in lying on his sofa talking to Elsie, and in reading the books which she lent him, most of which he would not have looked at under any other circumstances. The day after, he might, according to the doctor's verdict, have ridden home, but for reasons known only to himself he delayed his departure, and Mr. Ruthven and his wife were orly too glad, in their hearty English hospitality, to entertain him for as long as he cared to stay. They might not have been so kind had they known that the handsome young soldier was winning surely and certainly the heart of their darling Elsie. One lovely evening, the fifth of Claud's enforced visit, and the eve of his departure, he is sitting with Elsie in an arbour to which he had managed to hobble by the aid of a stout stick. The girl looks pale and tired, and is unusually quiet, gazing at the clouds which lie in heavy masses on the horizon, their edges burning as with liquid gold.