eorge
Hawker, of whose 'tom-cat' skull he has made that amusingly audacious
examination at the beginning of their acquaintance. It is delightful to
find all the faces familiar in the old land reappearing in the new, even
though the coincidences which attend their coming seem too good to be
true.

But the reader forgets the occasional loose-jointedness of the story in
contemplation of the swift succession of happy scenes created for him.
In these there is nothing dubious or artificial. They are sketches
straight from the life of the country, and it is their beauty that makes
_Geoffry Hamlyn_ a classic in Australian literature.

Among the characters, there are so many who inspire us with love rather
than mere interest, that a multiplicity of similar scenes, of
conversations, rides, pleasure-excursions, and other intercourse, which
in another book might prove wearisome, becomes here the best enjoyment
of the reader. With what vivacity and gusto the author describes the
visits exchanged between the home stations, and the comforts and
happiness which they reveal! Half the book is made up of them, and yet
the majority remain sufficiently clear in the memory to be recalled
separately. Brentwood, who is at first fifty miles away, buys a station
near at hand, he and Buckley having become inseparable, and now Baroona,
Garoopna, and Toonarbin are only a few miles apart. 'There was always a
hostage from one staying as a guest at the other.' The visits were
generally unannounced, and the visitors stayed as long as they felt
inclined to. The effects of this custom are once amusingly illustrated
at the home of Captain Brentwood. It is when the members of the little
colony hear of the arrival of his beautiful daughter from Sydney, where
she has been at school. 'That week one of those runs upon the Captain's
hospitality took place which are common enough in the Bush, and,
although causing a temporary inconvenience, are generally as much
enjoyed by the entertainers as the entertained. Everybody during this
next week came to see them, and nobody went back again. So by the end of
the week there were a dozen or fourteen guests assembled, all uninvited,
and apparently bent on making a long stay of it.' They help one another
when there is work to be done, dine sumptuously, picnic luxuriously.
Kingsley has properly made eating and drinking a noticeable part of the
hearty full-bodied existence of his squatters and their friends.

There is no