ognise the worth of one so unassertive
was not to be wondered at. He saw this, and never blamed them. They
could not, as he remarked on one occasion, be expected to know that he
was as well born as any of them, and perhaps better educated. One of
them saw there was 'something above the common' in him; but that was
all. At length he was discovered by a good-natured and scholarly Roman
Catholic priest (the Rev. Julian E. Tenison Woods), who, though he does
not say so, evidently took a pleasure during the five years of their
acquaintance in making the merits of the solitary Englishman known in
the colony. Their tastes accorded excellently. They talked 'horses or
poetry' as they rode together, or smoked by their camp-fires. Gordon's
reserve thawed for the first time. He had a well-trained memory, and
occasionally would recite Latin or Greek verse, or a scene from
Shakespeare, or passages from Byron and other modern poets. Greek he had
taught himself in lonely hours after his arrival in Australia, having
neglected it while at college.

In the end his disposition left the good cleric, like many another, much
puzzled. Was there anything of foolish pride or misanthropy in Gordon's
avoidance of society that would have welcomed him? Both his recorded
speech and his poems are without evidence of either. Those who remember
his taciturnity and little eccentricities also speak of his kindness of
heart, generosity and trustfulness of others. Did he ever complain that
he was oppressed and saddened by his self-chosen life in the Bush? We
have seen the high estimate he once gave of it; and Mr. Woods, who has
recorded many proofs of close observation of his friend, testifies that
the melancholy of his poems found little or no expression in his
conversation. Gordon may have been shy (as Marcus Clarke noted), but he
early formed a fairly accurate judgment of his literary powers. He said
'he was sure he would rise to the top of the tree in poetry, and that
the world should talk of him before he died.' Coming from one who was
far from being vain or boastful, the remark suggests hope and ambition.
But neither, it would seem from his colonial career, was ever more than
a passing mood with him. Why did he remain in obscurity during several
of the best years of his life, doing rough and dangerous work, when he
might have obtained some remunerative post in one of the cities? Why did
he marry a domestic servant--one who could never be an intellectua