ts our 'elth uncommon well in these
salubrious mountings, still a drop of physic is often handy-like, and
in a general way I always purchase myself a box of Holloway's Pills
(of which you do get such a lot for your money), and also a bottle of
pain-killer; but last shearing they was out o' pain-killer, they said,
so they put me up a bottle o' Cain pepper, and likewise that 'ere
condiment, which was werry efficacious, 'specially towards the end o'
the bottle!" "And do you really mean to say you drank it, Salter?" I
inquired with horror.

"Certainly I do, mum, whenever I felt out o' sorts. It always took my
mind off the loneliness, and cheered me up wonderful, especial if I
hadded a little red pepper to it," said Salter, getting up from his log
of wood and making me a low bow. All this time F---- and I were seated
amicably side by side on poor Salter's red blanket-covered "bunk," or
wooden bedstead, made of empty flour-sacks nailed between rough poles,
and other sacks filled with tussock grass for a mattress and pillow.

The word loneliness gave me a good opening to broach the subject of our
Sunday gatherings, and my suspicions of Jim's having been told of our
visit were confirmed by the alacrity with which he said, "I have much
pleasure in accepting your kind invitation, mum, if so be as I am not
intruding."

"No, indeed Salter," F---- said; "you'd be very welcome, and you could
always turn Judy into the paddock whilst we were having service."

Now if there was one thing dearer to Salter's heart than another, it was
his little roan mare Judy: her excellent condition, and jaunty little
hog-mane and tail, testified to her master's loving care. So it was all
happily settled, and after paying a most unfashionably long visit to the
lonely man, we rode away with many a farewell nod and smile. I may say
here that Salter was one of the most regular of our congregation for
more than two years, besides being a member of the book club. In time,
its more sensible volumes utterly displaced the yellow paper rubbish in
his but library, and I never can forget the poor man's emotion when he
came to bid me good-bye.

At my request he made the rough little pen and ink sketches which are
here given, and as he held my offered hand (not knowing quite what else
to do with it) when I took leave of him after our last home-service,
when my face was set towards England, he could not say a word. The great
burly creature's heart must have been