ay up by degrees. He had had no money when he first came,
people said; indeed, he often said so himself. He was not proud, at any
rate in that way, for he was not above telling a young fellow that he
should never be downhearted because he hadn't a coat to his back or a
shilling in his pocket, because he, Herbert Falkland, had known what
it was to be without either. 'This was the best country in the whole
world,' he used to say, 'for a gentleman who was poor or a working man.'
The first sort could always make an independence if they were moderately
strong, liked work, and did not drink. There were very few countries
where idle, unsteady people got rich. 'As for the poor man, he was the
real rich man in Australia; high wages, cheap food, lodging, clothing,
travelling. What more did he want? He could save money, live happily,
and die rich, if he wasn't a fool or a rogue. Unfortunately, these last
were highly popular professions; and many people, high and low, belonged
to them here--and everywhere else.'

We were all well up in this kind of talk, because for the last two or
three years, since we had begun to shear pretty well, we had always
shorn at his shed. He was one of those gentlemen--and he was a
gentleman, if ever there was one--that takes a deal of notice of his
working hands, particularly if they were young. Jim he took a great
fancy to the first moment he saw him. He didn't care so much about me.

'You're a sulky young dog, Richard Marston,' he used to say. 'I'm not
sure that you'll come to any good; and though I don't like to say all
I hear about your father before you, I'm afraid he doesn't teach you
anything worth knowing. But Jim there's a grand fellow; if he'd been
caught young and weaned from all of your lot, he'd have been an honour
to the land he was born in. He's too good for you all.'

'Every one of you gentlemen wants to be a small God Almighty,' I said
impudently. 'You'd like to break us all in and put us in yokes and bows,
like a lot of working bullocks.'

'You mistake me, my boy, and all the rest of us who are worth calling
men, let alone gentlemen. We are your best friends, and would help you
in every way if you'd only let us.'

'I don't see so much of that.'

'Because you often fight against your own good. We should like to see
you all have farms of your own--to be all well taught and able to make
the best of your lives--not driven to drink, as many of you are, because
you have no notion of a