good
collection of curios, picked up at various islands. These were
capitally arranged in the cabin, and looked very nice. He kindly gave
Mabelle and me some beautiful shells, as well as some gorgonias
growing on a pearl-shell. In the afternoon we went out for a drive. On
leaving the town we followed the same road as yesterday, after which
we came to a fairly good bush-road or track, running through a pretty
country, with some fine trees and a great variety of foliage. We
passed one or two nice stations, with comfortable, deep-verandahed
houses, and tidy gardens and orchards. Ultimately we plunged into the
regular bush, where the sandflies and mosquitoes began to trouble the
rest of the party; but my invaluable eucalyptus oil saved me. Nothing
could exceed the care our driver took of me; his chief anxiety was
that I should not suffer a single jolt beyond what the roughness of
the road necessitated. He came out here when he was twenty-one years
old, and rushed at once to the gold-fields; found 1,100_l._ in three
days, on an alluvial field 300 miles inland from Sydney; lost it two
days after, by putting it into a speculative mining concern which
failed the day after he parted with his money. He then became a
gentleman's coachman at Sydney, and had several other mining and
reefing adventures on some fields near the Johnstone River. All went
well with him until he had an attack of fever, which laid him up for
eighteen months, and not only absorbed all his own little savings but
that of his comrades, to whose kindness he was indebted for the
positive necessaries of life. Now he is coachman at the largest hotel
here, and as soon as he has scraped a little money together, intends
going off to the Croydon diggings, where I hope he will be fortunate,
and trust he will invest his hard-earned money more satisfactorily.
Owing to our late departure we had no time to stop, as we had
intended, to see the tomb erected over the remains of poor Mrs.
Watson, her child, and Ah Sam the Chinaman, who are buried here. The
story of their death is a sad one, and we listened with interest to
the circumstances as related by Mr. Fitzgerald; which are briefly
these.

Elizabeth Wilson, who came originally from Rockhampton, was the wife
of Mr. Watson, the owner of some small schooners engaged in the
beche-de-mer trade, whose head establishment was at the Lizard Island.
Some time in 1881 she persuaded her husband to take one of his vessels
on a tou