s narrowing, stagnant monotony. It
has and had not provided me with one solitary fond remembrance--only with
dreary, wing-clipping, mind-starving recollections. No, no; I was not
leaving home behind, I was flying homeward now. Home, home to Caddagat,
home to ferny gullies, to the sweet sad rush of many mountain waters, to
the majesty of rugged Borgongs; home to dear old grannie, and uncle and
aunt, to books, to music; refinement, company, pleasure, and the dear old
homestead I love so well.

All in good time I arrived at the end of my train journey, and was taken
in charge by a big red-bearded man, who informed me he was the driver of
the mail-coach, and had received a letter from Mrs Bossier instructing
him to take care of me. He informed me also that he was glad to do what
he termed "that same", and I would be as safe under his care as I would
be in God's pocket.

My twenty-six miles' coach drive was neither pleasant nor eventful. I was
the only passenger, and so had my choice of seats. The weather being cold
and wet, I preferred being inside the box and curled myself up on the
seat, to be interrupted every two or three miles by the good-natured
driver inquiring if I was "all serene".

At the Halfway House, where a change of the team of five horses was
affected, I had a meal and a warm, and so tuned myself up for the
remainder of the way. It got colder as we went on, and at 2.30 p.m. I was
not at all sorry to see the iron roofs of Gool-Gool. township disclosing
to my view. We first went to the post office, where the mail-bags were
delivered, and then returned and pulled rein in front of the Woolpack
Hotel. A tall young gentleman in a mackintosh and cap, who had been
standing on the veranda, stepped out on the street as the coach stopped,
and lifting his cap and thrusting his head into the coach, inquired,
"Which is Miss Melvyn?"

Seeing I was the only occupant, he laughed the pleasantest of laughs,
disclosing two wide rows of perfect teeth, and turning to the driver,
said, Is that your only passenger? I suppose it is Miss Melvyn?"

"As I wasn't present at her birth, I can't swear, but I believe her to be
that same, as sure as eggs is eggs," he replied.

My identity being thus established, the young gentleman with the greatest
of courtesy assisted me to alight, ordered the hotel groom to stow my
luggage in the Caddagat buggy, and harness the horses with all
expedition. He then conducted me to the private parlour,