nk, to do anything very rashly; and as for getting married, he
will not be in a position to think of that for several years; and
if ever he does, I hope it will be to some one at least equal to
himself in education. Give my love to Bessy and Hannah. I do not
think it would do them any harm to write a letter sometimes. I
expect Bessy was tired long ago of the algebra you were talking so
much about.

Does it ever enter your head that it would be a good thing for all
of you to come out here in a few years, when the girls have
finished their education? This country is undergoing great changes
for the better. Now the rush to the diggings is over, people are
beginning to live like civilized human beings. In a few years
everything will be as settled as in England, and we shall be able
to live much cheaper.

Believe me ever, my dear mother,

Your affectionate son,

WILLIAM J. WILLS.

. . .

From a letter to myself of the 6th of June, which was rather a
long one, I give only the following extracts:--

"What you say about this world I do not quite agree with; I
think it a very good world, and only requires a person to be
reasonable in his expectations, and not to trust too much to
others. It appears to be almost equally divided into three
principal classes--honest fools, foolish rogues, and honest
rational beings. Some may add another class, but there are so few
belonging to it--scarcely one in ten thousand--that I think it
should be ranked amongst the phenomena of nature. I mean, the
successful rogues--men who do things neatly, and escape being found
out. The first and second are often useful to each other; the third
benefit by the first and second, inasmuch as they learn by their
experience, without paying for it themselves." He then cautions me
against certain money speculations. Another paragraph says: "I find
I am likely to change my station, but have no instructions as yet.
I do not care if they keep me here another month. I have first-rate
neighbours, a Mr. and Mrs. M., who live just across the creek; very
nice people, and no humbug. Mr. M. resembles you in many ways." He
then mentions a colt he had reared, called Nelly; says she goes in
and out of the tent as if she had been born in it, shakes hands
with any one as soon as asked, and carries Mr. M.'s little boy
Willie on her back with perfect gentleness. On his way back to
Melbourne, he taught a colt of mine, in two or three days, to be
equally docile, until i