e country. We felt better.

Towards the end of the trip the women began to turn up. There were
five grass widows, and every female of them had a baby. The Australian
marries young and poor; and, when he can live no longer in his native
land, he sells the furniture, buys a steerage ticket to New Zealand or
Western Australia, and leaves his wife with her relatives or friends
until he earns enough money to send for her. Four of our women were
girl-wives, and mostly pretty. One little handful of a thing had a fine
baby boy, nearly as big as herself, and she looked so fragile and
pale, and pretty and lonely, and had such an appealing light in her big
shadowed brown eyes, and such a pathetic droop at the corners of her
sweet little mouth, that you longed to take her in your manly arms--baby
and all--and comfort her.

The last afternoon on high seas was spent in looking through glasses
for the Pinnacles, off North Cape. And, as we neared the land, the
commercial traveller remarked that he wouldn't mind if there was a wreck
now--provided we all got saved. "We'd have all our names in the papers,"
he said. "Gallant conduct of the passengers and crew. Heroic rescue by
Mr So-and-so-climbing the cliffs with a girl under his arm, and all that
sort of thing."

The chaps smiled a doleful smile, and turned away again to look at the
Promised Land. They had had no anxiety to speak of for the last two
or three days; but now they were again face to face with the cursed
question, "How to make a living." They were wondering whether or no they
would get work in New Zealand, and feeling more doubtful about it than
when they embarked.

Pity we couldn't go to sea and sail away for ever, and never see land
any more--or, at least, not till better and brighter days--if they ever
come.

THE STORY OF MALACHI

Malachi was very tall, very thin, and very round-shouldered, and the
sandiness of his hair also cried aloud for an adjective. All the boys
considered Malachi the greatest ass on the station, and there was no
doubt that he _was_ an awful fool. He had never been out of his native
bush in all his life, excepting once, when he paid a short visit to
Sydney, and when he returned it was evident that his nerves had received
a shaking. We failed to draw one word out of Malachi regarding his views
on the city--to describe it was not in his power, for it had evidently
been something far beyond his comprehension. Even after his visit had
be