ing you plain, let alone ugly; brilliant is
the word which best describes you."

Uncle Julius had the upper part of his ponderous figure arrayed in a
frock-coat. He did not take kindly to what he termed "those skittish
sparrow-tailed affairs". Frock-coats suited him, but I am not partial to
them on every one. They look well enough on a podgy, fat, or broad man,
but on a skinny one they hang with such a forlorn, dying-duck expression,
that they invariably make me laugh.

Julius John Bossier, better known as J. J. Bossier, and better still as
Jay-Jay--big, fat, burly, broad, a jovial bachelor of forty, too fond of
all the opposite sex ever to have settled his affections on one in
particular--was well known, respected, and liked from Wagga Wagga to
Albury, Forbes to Dandaloo, Bourke to Hay, from Tumut to Monaro, and back
again to Peak Hill, as a generous man, a straight goer in business
matters, and a jolly good fellow all round.

I was very proud to call him uncle.

"So this is yourself, is it!" he exclaimed, giving me a tremendous hug.

"Oh, uncle," I expostulated, ?? wipe your old kisses off Your breath
smells horribly of whisky and tobacco."

"Gammon, that's what makes my kisses so nice!" he answered; and, after
holding me at arm's-length for inspection, "By George, you're a
wonderful-looking girl! You're surely not done growing yet, though! You
are such a little nipper. I could put you in my pocket with ease. You
aren't a scrap like your mother. I'll give the next shearer who passes a
shilling to cut that hair off. It would kill a dog in the hot weather."

"Everard, this is my niece, Sybylla" (aunt Helen was introducing us).
"You will have to arrange yourselves--what relation you are, and how to
address each other."

The admiration expressed in his clear sharp eyes gave me a sensation
different to any I had ever experienced previously.

"I suppose I'm a kind of uncle and brother in one, and as either
relationship entitles me to a kiss, I'm going to take one," he said in a
very gallant manner.

"You may take one if you can," I said with mischievous defiance,
springing off the veranda into the flower-garden. He accepted my
challenge, and, being lithe as a cat, a tremendous scamper ensued. Round
and round the flower-beds we ran. Uncle Jay-Jay's beard opened in a broad
smile, which ended in a loud laugh. Everard Grey's coat-tails flew in the
breeze he made, and his collar was too high for athletic purposes. I