part I hoped they would, and that they would think me likely to be

serviceable to them. But such was not to be. Sir R. D. Ross had to go to Maoriland rather hastily. War was either in progress or some hostility with the Maories was contemplated, and he had some command in the military forces. He took his wife to New Zealand with him. The brightest is the fleetest. I was left alone at the Government farm. That would not matter, except that I shrank from going home. I was to stop for a week to put all the things in their place, and to leave it all tidy. Some goods were to be sent for from Morialta.

One evening while I was sitting in the verandah listening to the opossums, I heard a footstep and a cough. I was preparing to run to the caretaker's, when I found that it was my brother. He had been all day trying to find the farm. I was pleased to see him, and he wrote home and told our people that he would stay with me till I had finished there. He helped me a lot. He told me that father had taken a little workshop in Leigh-street, off Hindley-street, where he was doing some carpentering work. They went to and fro to my sister's house for meals. My brother was still young, and he felt bitterly upset. He recognised what I must feel, and that I was not happy with father. What a failure I had made! My brother told me not to fret, as I had done the best I could ever since he could remember. In a few days I packed up, and in two or three weeks I was on my way to the South-East.

I GO TO THE SOUTH-EAST.

I had not been long out from Scotland before, after some experience in and around Adelaide, I found that I would get more wages in the country. So I made enquiry at a labor office, kept by Mr. Malcolm, in Hindley-street. About this time there was a great demand for good willing servant-girls. Mr. Malcolm told me that he wanted two young girls for a sheep-station in the South-East, near Bordertown. The station was called Wirrega, and was owned by a Mr. Binney. I was not well posted up in the geography of the country, and when I was told that we would go to our destination in a steamboat, the Penola, I took it for granted that it would be like going from Glasgow to the seaside. I was quite willing to go provided that he found another girl to go with me. In a day or two he sent for me to say that he had found a companion for me. She was to be the needlewoman, and I would be the laundress. Our employer paid our passage-money, and we signed an agreement to stop for a year.

We got our little trunks ready, and Mr. Malcolm came to see us off at the railway-station. We found our way to the steamboat, hoping that we would reach our journey's end that night. But, to our disgust, we had to spend the night on board. Luckily it was in the month of November and was not cold. The next day we landed at Robe. The landlord of the Robe Hotel sent on board for us, as he had instructions to take charge of us until we were sent for. We were surprised, for we thought that our journey was over when we stepped off the boat. However, there was nothing to complain of at the hotel, and our employer was paying our expenses. But we were anxious to get to work, for we had but little money, and, of course, our wages would not begin till we reached the station. It was the shearing season, and the wool was brought to Robe from all the country round. We used to sit on the jetty and watch the loaded ships going out.

We had been there for two weeks before a man called to say that he was instructed to take us girls back with him. We had been told that it would take us three or four weeks to get to the station from Robe, and that our way lay through a wilderness of sand. What we had seen of bullock-drivers made us shudder lest they should send for us to travel under their tender care.

We came downstairs to interview the man. How vividly I can see him even now. He was ragged and covered with dust. His hair was projecting through the top of his hat, and he had a whip in his hand. We asked him what conveyance we were to travel by. He replied, "In a carriage and six," meaning the bullock-dray.

At this information both of us began to cry bitterly. We refused to go, and thought of returning to Adelaide by the steamer, but my companion told me we would be put in prison if we did that. We made such a scene that the landlord and his wife came out to see what was the matter. When he learned the state of affairs he comforted us and told us he would write to Mr. Binney; so we awaited the result of his letter. A week later, on a Saturday evening, a strange-looking vehicle, drawn by wild horses, came into the yard. This was to be our conveyance. As the driver was a pleasant, respectable, married man, and promised to take as much care of us as he would of his own daughter we were much relieved in our minds, but the difficulties of the road and the savage aspect of our team still caused us dismay.

Early on Sunday morning we started, for we were told that if the horses had a whole day's rest no power on earth would get them into harness again. They had never been stabled, and as they pranced, foaming at the mouth and making the sparks fly from the cobblestones, they attracted much attention from a large crowd of onlookers. As they bounded out of the yard we held tight to the seat and said our prayers, for we thought we had not many more minutes to live.

Twelve miles of good road brought us to a small hotel called The Stone Hut. Here we halted for a few seconds, and then made a dive into a sea of wild ferns that extended as far as the eye could reach. Suddenly, without any warning, the vehicle stopped with a crash, and our driver disappeared from our astonished sight. We had struck the hidden root of an old tree. Presently he reappeared from under the feet of the horses, and congratulated us on having sufficient pluck and presence of mind to hold the reins.

After this incident all went well, and at about 8 o'clock we arrived at a sheep station, where many men were shearing and where no white women had ever been before. The shearers took out the horses and brought us some tea in a pannikin. Our vehicle was turned upside down and covered over with rugs. Under that rude shelter we spent a sleepless night.

The next day's journey took us through a wilderness of sand. Now and then a few blacks would appear from behind a hill and fly precipitately at the sight of us. About 9 o'clock that night we reached the home station, fatigued and dusty. Mr. Binney was in Melbourne, so Mrs. Binney met us and gave us a good scolding for the trouble we had caused in order to have us brought from Robe. But she was Scotch, and we were Scotch, and so our explanations were soon accepted.

When the morning came I found myself in the Australian bush. Another young girl, who was housemaid, took me with her. Her father and mother were at the station as house cooks. They consoled me by telling me that I would like being there when I got used to it. Truth to tell, I was anxious to begin my year's service, and so was up betimes. Numerous wild birds, among which I distinguished the magpie, deafened me with a bewildering clamor.

With very mingled feelings I went to the laundry. It was built of wood, but had many of the usual conveniences. The water I had to draw up from a well by a windlass.

The family consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Binney and five children--three sons and two daughters. In addition there were a sister of Mr. Binney, acting as governess to the children, and a Mr. John Binney, a cousin of the owner, who was manager or overseer of the station. The comfortable dwelling-house was one storey in height, and was built of stone. There were several outbuildings and a large store, where all sorts of things were kept for sale to the employes of the station. The place looked like a little village.

It was a common sight to see a man with his wife and children living in a sort of gipsy van. The husband would be employed in "grubbing," or clearing timber off the land. When the contract was completed the family would pack up their goods in the van and journey to another station. At stated times the families of some permanent employes, who lived a few miles away, would come in on horseback for their rations. Our employers, and, in fact, everybody about us, were very gentle and considerate in their dealing with us.

At first I was afraid of the blacks, of whom there were a great many about the house. They all had nicknames, and had been trained to be very useful. One morning I plucked up courage to venture near their "wurlies." I shall never forget the scene. A number of little black babies were crawling about in the wet, dewy grass, and the sunlight was glistening on their naked little backs. But the children were afraid of us, and would creep under the bushes when they saw us coming. We used all go to see their "corrobories." Sometimes they would be away for days fighting with another tribe, but no strange blacks ever came to attack them. They were fond of showing us their implements of war, of which they had a great variety. I was surprised to hear them talk in fairly good English, and sometimes with a broad Scotch accent. Even the children spoke English well.

They were remarkably agile, too. They would mount perfectly wild horses that would have succeeded in killing a white man. As soon as they were fairly mounted they would fly in the air like rockets, but, like cats, they always landed on their feet. They were splendid mimics, and used their powers of imitation to play many tricks. Some of them would go off among the bushes and imitate the hens. This would bring out the old cook with her basket. When she found the trick that had been played on her she would be very cross, much to the delight of the blacks. But sometimes they would do her a good turn. If she wanted a wild turkey she had only to tell them so, and one of the blacks would dress himself up with boughs and lie down where the wild turkeys came to drink. When the unsuspecting bird came close to what he imagined was a bush a black hand would shoot out and grab him by the leg. So, after all, it paid the cook to be friendly with the blacks.

This was an ideal place for a naturalist. The blacks used to bring in a wonderful variety of eggs, and the place was famed for its bird-life. We had many pets. In fact, what with tame kangaroos, opossums, and emus the place resembled a menagerie. I made a pet of an emu, which used to wait for me at the laundry door every morning. I dressed it up in an old pinafore, and it was so pleased that it followed me wherever I went.

In the early days the wild dogs had been a great pest. Wild cats were numerous, but no one minded them much. At the end of the laundry there was a slab hut, where they kept the beef and mutton hanging. The cats would come here in dozens when all was dark and quiet. If a light was brought they would immediately scamper off. They were beautiful creatures, partly black and partly white.

I marvelled at the bravery of the men who opened up the interior. Mr. John Binney, Mr. Clark, and Mr. McLeod were the first white men to form settlements on that great expanse of country. With so many hostile blacks around they must have had a fearful time. Mrs. Binney showed us a tree, in the trunk of which Mr. Binney used to hide from the blacks. Our nearest neighbors were ten miles away, and the Tatiara township was about sixteen miles from the station. The police had their quarters at Tatiara, which, in those days, was composed of huts. I went there once, and found only one substantial building. It was an hotel. Once in every three months a bush missionary held services in this hotel. We all went to these services, some on horseback and some driving.

The months passed on, and I grew to like the life. Everybody was busy, for there was plenty to do. The lowing of the cattle, driven in for branding, became familiar music to my ears. But, isolated as we were, and simple and rough as the life was, I could not complain of any monotony. Sometimes a hawker would visit us with a large van drawn by a team of bullocks. He would camp for days, and do a brisk trade as a general provider of the wants of the little community. He found good customers among the blacks, for they earned a little money during shearing-time.

Nor were we entirely devoid of the amusements of town-life. More than once a travelling Christy Minstrel Company came to the station. The performers would stay all night and give a theatrical show in the laundry, which I gave up to them for the purpose. From miles around the place station-hands would come to see the show.

The young girl, who went up with me and myself got on nicely together. In the light of added years I can look back now and feel grateful for the hard training I went through then and the lessons those early days taught me. Sometimes we caught glimpses of the many mysteries of the silent bush. The presence of troopers and black-trackers about the station would tell us that something unusual had happened. It might be that the dead body of a man had been found a little way from the station. A consultation of all hands would be held, and the unknown would receive a decent burial, while efforts would be made to discover his identity. When any of the station-hands died they were buried in a little enclosure near the station. If they had lived far out on the boundary of the run they were buried near their huts.

What the blacks did with their dead puzzled us. Mr. Binney insisted that they must be buried, and the dusky relatives would obey. But, shortly afterwards, the graves would be rifled, and the corpses would mysteriously disappear. I asked a very old lubra to tell me what was done with the dead, and she horrified me by replying, "Big one, cookem on sticks."

While I was there Mr. Binney sent a mob of horses to Adelaide. Some of the blacks went with them to help the drovers. They came back by water. Then it was amusing to hear them describe what they had seen in Adelaide. They called the steamboat "Big one wheelbarrow." They said that something pulled them along with "tether ropes on the big one water."

There was one old lubra called "Kitty, the postman." When Mr. Binney first came into that part of the country, Kitty showed him where to get water for his oxen, and on that spot he began his life as a sheep-farmer. Kitty would carry letters for him to his friends as far away as thirty miles. He could always depend on her honesty and efficiency, so she became a privileged character. She must have been of a great age when I saw her, for she remembered well the time when no white man could be seen in the land. She had free entry to any of the buildings, and loved to smoke her pipe in the men's hut, for all the aboriginies, both men and women, smoked. She told me that the blacks did not hate the white men so much as they did the blacks of other tribes.

The cook at the men's hut was frequently visited by "sundowners." He told me that many of these stated that they were sons of doctors or clergymen, and were well educated men. I had a strange experience with a "traveller." One evening, when our candles were lit for the evening meal, a boundary rider brought in a woman whom he found wandering about by herself. There was a vacant place by me and she sat down. As she had a sunbonnet on I could not see her face well. Every visitor that came so late would stop all night, so the question arose "Where was she to sleep?" Not one of us was willing to share our room with her, so Mrs. Binney said she must sleep in the laundry. I took here there and she sat down while I prepared her bed. In order to see her face I put a lighted candle close to her, but she immediately blew it out. Then she took out a pipe and began to smoke. From a glimpse I caught of her features I thought she looked like a man. So I went to tell Mrs. Binney. As the laundry was full of valuable clothes I thought something might be stolen, or the place might be set fire to by the sparks from the stranger's pipe. I was really afraid of her; and so it was decided that she was not to sleep in the laundry. The needlewoman came with me, and we told her that she might sleep in an unused hut beyond the fence. In a voice like thunder she said, "Show me where I am to sleep." The hut had no door or glass in the window, so I pinned my apron over the window, and then we fled in terror.

She did not wait for breakfast, but went away in the early morning with one of our teamsters--the man who had found her. When they had gone about six miles she jumped out of the dray, and ran into the bush. The driver went on to Tatiara and told the police. After that I was worried by troopers and blacktrackers. The questions they asked me would have filled a book. They picked up the tracks near Wellington, but lost them again. They all thought, as I did, that our strange visitor was a man dressed in woman's clothing.

But there were pleasanter incidents than these. The arrival of "her Majesty's Royal Mail" was looked forward to with eagerness by all. The coach was a queer-looking vehicle, with a large "V.R." painted on it. The horses were changed at the station, and the coach went on to Tatiara township, calling at other stations both coming and going. How quickly "mail day" seemed to come round again. Bushranging had been prevalent, but the coach had always luckily escaped molestation. I like looking back after all this time.

It seemed lonely, for we were far from the sight of anybody we knew, and visitors were scarce. The needlewoman and I used lo take the children out amongst the tall gum trees. We had no perambulator, but there was a little Scotch pony for the baby to sit on. The foliage of the trees was dense, and they were close together, but we could always find the tracks. One day we went a long way, and the little pony stepped into what seemed to be a circle of snakes. He stood still, and so did we, for we were too frightened to move. The snakes fairly leaped from the ground and bounded in amongst the young bushes. I never ventured so far into the woods again, but I saw more snakes after that. A dog was a very good protector, for by his barking he would always show us where the snakes were. The housemaid, whom I have alluded to, found a snake under her pillow one night when she was going to bed. We shared the same room, but I am happy to say I never saw a snake in the room. The bedroom was right outside the house, and there was nothing to hinder the snakes from entering it, so that it may easily be imagined that we were careful where we stepped.

Our time was passing away. We could see by the preparations at the woolshed that the shearing season was near. The loneliness and silence of the bush gave place to the bustle and hum of human beings hurrying about. There were supposed to be altogether about a hundred men in and about the sheds, and where all the people came from was a mystery to me. What with woolclassing and woolwashing and woolsorting and the packing the wool into great bales ready to send to England there was a lot of work. In the middle of it all came the surveyors with a staff of men to cut up the land in allotments, as Mr. Binney's lease had nearly expired. Now the train to Melbourne runs through what were then desolate wilds.

They wanted me to stop for another year, but I would not. Mrs. Binney said I was the only girl who had ever left the station without getting married. I told her I had a suitor somewhere else. The young girl who went up with me was married to a "cockatoo" farmer. I hope she has been happy, for she was a nice girl. I have been a wife now for 26 years. Life is full of changes. It was not stated in the agreement I made that Mr. Binney should pay our expenses back to Adelaide. I had not thought of that when I was engaged to go the South-East. I thought the journey was such a short one that we could come and go when we liked. It was settled that I would return by the mail coach and wait at the hotel for my trunk, which was to be sent by the wool-dray. There was no other choice for me. By this time I was well acquainted with the driver of the mail, as he used to have lunch with us sometimes. He was a middle-aged man with a wife and family, and was understood to be reliable. So far I had trusted everybody, for I was young and happy, and I did not feel the least afraid.

I LEAVE THE STATION AND RETURN TO ADELAIDE.

From this time the days flew by quickly till the last night I was to spend in the bush came round. Truly, I never knew till then that I had so many friends. People came from such a distance to say "Good-bye," for the coach started early in the morning. I had a cheque from Mr. Binney, and I had never had so much money before in all my life. I was told to get it cashed at Robetown, as Mr. Binney had no banking account in Adelaide. I had a nice present, too, from Mrs. Binney, and one from Miss Binney, which I have yet in my possession.

In the morning they were all up to see me off, and there was a scene of great excitement. Amongst the rest there were blacks from all round, shouting at the top of their voices, "You white lubra, what for you go away from my country." I had a very kindly send-off, and with tears in my eyes, I bid adieu to all. All the way along the driver pointed out to me places of interest with such queer names, such as "Biscuit Flat," "Black Joe's Corner," "Binney's Lookout," and many others which I have forgotten. What interested me most was, however, the name of the place where I was to stop for the night. It was called "Mosquito Plains," and I wondered if any mosquitoes were there.

That evening we reached the "Mosquito Plains." I forget the name of the hotel where we stayed for the night, but I remember that the old landlord was making way for a new one and that there was a great crowd in and about the bar. Mr. Sinclair, the mail-driver, took me to the woman of the house and asked her to find a room for me, as I was leaving by the mail in the morning. I never saw him again.

I slept little that night, as the people were pacing about the hotel all night. The woman I had seen before told me that the coach would start about 3 o'clock in the morning. Daylight was just breaking as I wearily got ready for my unknown journey. The driver of the mail was a quiet young man. There seemed a lot of parcels and luggage, but I was the only woman among the passengers. I hoped to reach Kingston that night. I was not much interested in our stopping-places, as I was longing to be back in Adelaide.

I had no one to talk to, so I stood by the coach while the horses were being got ready. I heard a gentleman say, "Has anybody thought of getting a cup of tea for this girl?" and the answer was "No." Then he said, "I will." In the bar they were all drinking by the lamplight, and he held a little saucepan over the lamp and made me a cup of tea. I watched him from where I was standing, with grateful thoughts that could not find expression. I often saw that gentleman afterwards in Adelaide. I was often tempted to go up to him and thank him for that cup of tea, but I did not like to do so, as I never learnt his name.

At last we were off. The inside of the coach was filled with luggage, so the passengers all sat outside, and the arrangement was not very comfortable, as there was nothing to rest one's back against. Some of the men who mounted the coach that morning were the worse for drink. Still, no one said anything unpleasant to me. We went speeding along through desolate scrub. The road, or, rather, the mail track, was very uneven, and I expected every moment to be thrown out. I asked the driver what I was to hold on by. He laughed and answered, "Hold on by your eyebrows." There were places on the wayside for refreshments, and about 8 o'clock we had breakfast at one of these.

I would have liked to stop at Mosquito Plains to have a look round, but on account of the change of landlords the hotel was topsy-turvy, and I did not care for the woman I saw there. I was disappointed, for I knew that I would have to wait at Robe till the wool-dray came with my things, and there are some very interesting caves near Mosquito Plains, which is now called "Narracoorte."

We arrived at Kingston and drove at once to the Kingston Hotel, which was kept by an ex-trooper from Adelaide. To my astonishment a nicely-dressed little blackgirl met me at the door. She came to see what I wanted. She was about 12 or 13 years old, and was the only female attendant in the hotel. I was a little upset, but I thought that I must not be too particular for one night, so I told her I would like some tea. She brought me quite a nice cup of tea on a tray and told me that the master would come and see me soon.

Presently the landlord came in. He was evidently in difficulties. He told me that his wife had been dead two months, and his sister had been keeping house for him; but that, owing to the sickness of his little son, she had to take the boy away to his grandmother. He said she would return on the following day. I asked if there was no other white woman about the place. He answered--"Yes, there is one; but she is ill in bed: and I am at my wit's end." I asked if I could see her, as, being a working-girl myself, I thought I might do something for her. The man was much agitated and replied--"Yes. She is a married woman and has been in my employ for six weeks. She had a baby this morning."

He led me through a long billiard-room and a kitchen, where some black-gins were sitting round a fire smoking, into a little back-room in the yard. There lay the poor woman and her face lit up with joy to see another white woman. I soon learned her story, which was like that of many other wanderers. Her husband had gone away to look for work, and had forgotten to come back. I sympathised with her trouble and did what I could for her that night.

On enquiry I learned that there was a doctor staying at the hotel. He was attending to several men, who were suffering from ophthalmia after shearing. But my sympathy was all with that weak woman and the dear, little baby. I learned, also, that there were only a few white women in Kingston.

Two young men who had been shipmates with me in the Morning Star came into the hotel the next morning. Their name was Ring, and they were with their father, Mr. Herbert Ring, who had a contract to facilitate the shipping of goods at Kingston, as before that no ships could come in near the shore. I was pleased to see them. They are both in Adelaide now as sharebrokers. They brought their father to see me and it seemed like civilisation again. But I had not yet done with the mail-coach.

As the coach left Kingston every day, I determined to stop with the sick woman till the landlord's sister came home. Meanwhile the people about were negotiating with the landlord to get up a supper as they wished to celebrate the opening of a branch of some lodge. I think that the Messrs. Ring were the principal officials in that lodge. So when the housekeeper came I set to work and helped her prepare this bush "banquet." I did not know very much, but every little was a help, and they all said the supper was splendid.

Just in the middle of the preparations for supper a travelling dramatic company arrived and began to get ready to hold a performance that evening in the billiard-room. I never saw such a mixed lot of people together. I looked for the doctor, expecting to see a man in decent black clothes, but he was dressed in old, tattered garments, just like the poor shearers to whom he was attending. I understood the reason of this when I saw him staggering about. Be was a very clever man, but abandoned to drink.

The little black girl was a great help. She could fetch and carry for these poor men, who, I am afraid, were very much neglected. I saw a little of the country about Kingston and liked the look of the whole place very much. My stay at the hotel lasted from a Tuesday to the following Saturday, when the landlord drove me into Robe in his own waggonette. I had no bills to pay and received some remuneration for being so helpful. For years afterwards, if anybody who knew me stayed at the hotel, they heard kind things of me and brought me nice messages. Neither my trunk nor the steamboat had arrived, so I had to wait till the next Saturday at the Robe Hotel. The same people were there as when I went to Mr. Binney's. I felt just as if I were at home with them, for they were so interested in my experiences all through that year in the bush. I had enjoyed good health all the time I was away, and I arrived in Adelaide safe and well.

It was on a Sunday afternoon when I reached the Port, and my brother was on the dock waiting for me. Father and he were living at Hilton. They had a horse and trap, and my brother drove me to Hilton; but I was not many days at home, when I found that my father seemed in touch with some acquaintance I did not like; I felt outside of everything, and asked myself why I came back if there was nothing to come back for. I was out of sympathy with my surroundings, I learned that my father was about to get married again, and I felt as if I was not wanted. I could see that the old condition of things had changed. In any case, everything seemed hard for me, and I could not put matters right for other people. At best, there would be a muddle, and I thought if things came to an end quickly it would not be so hard to go. I had to go forward alone, I knew, and to face bitterness and desolation. When some one said, "I wonder you sent for your people," I thought that it did not matter whether or not I lived at home, for I could not skip out of their lives. Wherever they were they were my relations. Still, if there are no love-ties, that makes loneliness more solitary. There was no ill-will, but my brother said that he would not live with father and his new wife.

So we had to do something. I told my brother that I must have some work to do, and then we might manage some little business. What else could we do? It was either that or we would have to go and live in a top-garret somewhere. So we took a house with a shop attached in Rundle-street. It stood this side of the Tavistock Hotel, but it was pulled down many years ago. There is now a saddler's business there. I had it fixed up as tearooms, and my brother made furniture. In any case I had to face a new kind of life, and I had no right to grumble. When we were children I remembered the happy comradeship which always existed between my brother and myself, and I was glad to be alone with him. It was a splendid time and we did fairly well, and had something to give thanks for. I could not expect that happiness to continue, and when we had been there for some time I had a strong belief that all the rest would come right in time. It was a joy to feel that I was working for my brother. Such trivial incidents may not seem worth recording, but that was my only experience in business on my own account. Youth is full of hope, but I did not know what I hoped for. There was the present and the future to think about.

Just at that time a Scotch corps of volunteers were raised. It was the first in South Australia to wear the kilts. There was such merriment about this dressing every day. Mr. Buik had an ironmongers shop in Rundle-street, and he was the captain. My brother also became a kilted volunteer. The kilts were sent from Scotland partly made, and then altered so as to make a suitable fit. They looked nice, only the stockings were of some kind of checked tartan, with no shape or figure. I knew how to knit, so I knitted a pair of stockings for my brother, and set in the wool in different coloring and in diamond shape. They looked unlike the others, and they were made to fit. Mr. Buik came to me and asked me if I would do a hundred pairs. I was so surprised, that I thought I would not knit any more stockings which could be seen. In the Foot Police at that time there was a Scotchman who stood, so they said, over six feet in height; his name was Archie Dixon. He had his own kilts and knitted stockings, together with the bagpipes. He brought all the equipage with him from Scotland, and truly he did look a picture in the kilts. The past is, indeed, past, but it all comes back to me when I want it.

The news spread about that in a few months the Queen's son, the Sailor Prince, would visit Australia. I can trust my memory for that time. It can never be forgotten. As for the people, it is no exaggeration to say they were full of joy, as in some sort of way it appeared that this visit was to be made a pleasure for all. I seemed to have no plans in life except to see the Prince. In a few weeks the warship Galatea came in to port. It was a fearfully hot day, and the Scotch Volunteers, with Mr. Archie Dixon in the front playing the bagpipes, went all the way to the Port, with other volunteers as well, to meet Prince Alfred. The town was all one "festival." They marched in procession and came to the city. In their route they marched around the spot where the new Post-Office now is. I had a nice seat on some of the old buildings in King William-street. The men who wore the kilts must have suffered from the heat. However, there was the Queen's son, bowing and looking so distinguished as he passed along to Government House. Sir Dominick Daly was there, too. There was no electricity then, but the splendor of the gaslight in the night-time will not easily be forgotten, nor the vast crowds who gathered there.

The drawback all this gaiety had for us was that we had not much capital. I did not want anything in the way of stock, but my brother's work was different, for to make it he needed materials; worse still, he let furniture go on credit, not realising enough to meet his debts. On turning back to that time my thoughts were not glad. I could not be gay, for I could see no brightness in the future. It was said by some that my acts and life showed great self-denial, but if it did it did not bring me any of the inward satisfaction which is said to come from such deeds. I thought I must try and get a new place, for I could see that my brother was seriously in love with a young woman. Then came the final decision, and I went and saw Mr. J. N. Hines, at Parliament House, with the hope of getting some employment daily, as he had so much catering to do while the Prince was here and in other ways. I used to go to the Town Hall, and also help at Parliament House. My first employer, at No. 10, Rundle-street, had got married, or I should have liked to go back there. Having to be independent and to take care of myself for more than eleven years I had learnt to use my knowledge and be hopeful. I daresay there are plenty who will remember the stampede of that time. There was a sense of whirl during the whole time of that brilliant visit, and its influence was considerable with us so far as ways and means were concerned.

We both made up our minds not to get into debt, and we did not, but as matters went it might have been better to have gone to a situation at once. I could not take any particular kind of work, but I could help with most things generally. I can easily recall how little attempt there was to understand anything regarding cooking, and there were no men cooks in Adelaide then. The foundations of the Club House on North-terrace were being dug out while I was at No. 10, Rundle-street, and it was occupied when I came back from Moonta. A married couple had the management of the Club, and I got to know the manager through being at the Town Hall banquets and other places, so I went to help at the Club. The cooking was very crude. The manager had been a steward on board ship, and was not well up as a caterer. The work was not at all delicately done, and I did not like either the manager or the manageress. I did not stop long at the only club that was then in Adelaide. Many years have rolled away since then. The affairs of myself and brother were disposed in such a way that I had many doubts as to what I should do; but youth is delightful while it lasts.

One thing, I could not be idle. I secured a situation with a lady at New Glenelg, and was to undertake, with the lady's teaching, household duties. There were no children. The lady was Mrs. Brind, and another young girl was kept. It was a comfortable home. We had everything suitable, and I had a nice bedroom. For the first time since I left Scotland I found myself living close to the sea, and that suggesting the great joy of bathing in the ocean once again. How I loved that exercise, and the sea was only such a little way from the house. My sister had the care of my brother, and he used to come and see me occasionally. There was something kind and admirable about Mrs. Brind. She was a leader in society, there could be no doubt. She went everywhere, and did all sorts of things. She could sing and act and dance, and, with the number of guests always at the house, she made a charming hostess. In figure she was somewhat stout, but had such a nice face, with not a furrow of anxiety or care upon it. Mr. Brind was her second husband. She found time, despite her society arrangements, to do kindnesses amongst various persons, and more particularly to the children. She was whimsical and kindly, and one day she came and asked me if I would let her alter the cut of the skirt I wore on Sunday. Gored skirts were worn then, and I suppose mine must have been straight up and down. Anyhow, it did not please her. I let her have it, and with her own hands she altered it and made it look so different. This unexpected treatment of my clothing was done so pleasantly that I could not be angry. In respect of dress I was old-fashioned, and had but little choice.

I shall never forget one particular day. It was the other girl's day out, and I had to attend to the bell. Mrs. Brind had also gone out. Cards or messages I was to see to. I learned that Sir R. D. Ross and Lady Ross and a baby girl were coming to stop for a few days. They had come back from the Mainland war, and I confess I was pleased to get everything in order for their arrival. It seemed so strange to think that I was at the Government Farm to receive them the day, they were married, and there I was again, two years afterwards, preparing for them again. What a difference I saw in Sir R. D. Ross. His eyesight had failed, and he could hardly see. But when he learned that I was in waiting he came and brought his dear little daughter to show me. He must have had exciting times in New Zealand, for he looked so worn and worried. He had seen the Prince, and showed me a ring given to him by the young Prince. I never saw Sir R. D. Ross again, but he was a thorough gentleman, according to my standard, and he was Scotch. I forget now where they had met the Prince first, but it was either in New Zealand or in some of the other colonies. Any way, when the Prince came back they were quite friendly. All this seems only the other day. I confess to feeling fatigue in those years, but I have never felt myself rusting, and even now I am hard at work, and, in apparent hopelessness, will not despair.

I stayed on at Mrs. Brind's, and found comfort in my work by the seaside. The picture of what Glenelg looked like then is in my remembrance yet. There was no railway, and the only way you could get to Adelaide was by a kind of mail coach at stated times. You could book a passage beforehand, but if you lost this bus or coach you would have to walk to Glenelg or stop in town all night. The driver was Mr. George, or "Dick" George. He had a pleasing manner, which made him the friend of all. What with his teams of four or six horses and his cheerful voice ringing out he made the Bay-road very lively. His voice had a haunting ring never to be forgotten. There was a charm and quiet about the place which is not present in the much-altered Glenelg of to-day. I think of the mysterious and resistless disappearance of the people whom I knew then, and it gives a touch of seriousness to my thoughts.

But what a trial it was to me to have to mix so much with strangers; still I managed to pull through. When we are very young we believe that everyone has a heart. I brought myself to such a state that I had no high aspirations except to live in a pure atmosphere. That remained, even when all was gone, and I was left where the last tide had stranded me.

Many thoughts of the old time stir within me now. I can see a lady of lofty lineage, who used to come so much to Mrs. Brind's. Her name was Lady Charlotte Bacon. She looked dejected and laden with care. While she was wandering about by herself sometimes she would come and sit down by me on the sand, just as though she belonged to the disappointed and ill-used of this life. I saw her some years afterwards sitting on the steps of the Post-Office, in King William-street. She had a black bag in her hand. I did not make myself known to her, and I heard of her death not long after. Yes, there are noble sorrows on the high road. The lofty are beaten by the tempests, which are as oppressive to them as they would be to me, who am without defence.

So life went onwards by pleasant dreams to a comfortable future. When I had been with Mrs. Brind for about a year she used to get me to come and read for her, as she was not well. She was very fond of Scotch stories, and I could read them easily. There were no trained nurses in those days, and Mrs. Brind grew so ill that she was advised to go for a voyage and change of air. So it was decided that the house would be closed for a time. We had plenty of time to find employment. I can at this moment recall that without any effort on my part I was sought for. I did not lack either energy or sincerity. I would fain have stopped with Mrs. Brind, but I could not.

I GO BACK TO SUNNYSIDE.

I was told that someone was wanted at Sunnyside who could do cooking. I knew enough for the place, as the family were growing up, and they kept a lot of company. I was sorry for Mrs. Brind. She told me that she would not live long. She had no relations in Adelaide, and her agitation frightened me. She gave me a key and told me to unlock a drawer, and showed me all her things ready for the last ordeal, if the worst should happen. I felt a very great coward, and very uncomfortable. What a relief I felt when the doctor said she was strong enough to go for a change, and that he hoped for good results.

I went and saw Lady Milne, and I felt a sense of gladness I was to go to Sunnyside. It was a strange change for me, but only what might happen to anyone in ordinary everyday life and amid human influences, to look on those loved faces again. I was to have skilled help for all the large parties and balls, and I turned at once to the practical duties of a cook in a gentleman's house. I cannot help adding here that I have been able to get my living in that capacity ever since that time, and that I will give lessons this afternoon on cookery. It was like going back to the old home. I had a good, wise, generous mistress, who would tell me to put aside the past and trust to the future. I hardly knew what I expected in the future, but I was happy there. While in this position I soon recognised that cooking did not come by nature. Even the most simple things cannot be done till they are taught. I got a cookery book. I used to puzzle half the night over them, and then I did not get the rudiments from that.

People do not always remain the same, but are continually changing. This can be said of everyone, and growing years make a great difference. While I was away from Sunnyside the family, from being children, now seemed to be men and women, most of them. This meant so much more company. As I thought I could not fulfil the duties required of me, I had many painful moments, although they had patience with me. I got to dread the two caterers, who came alternately or both together. The attention they wanted was more to me than all my other work. They took such pains that I should not see anything of their skill, and I had hard toil to learn even gradually. When I had been there more than a year I felt I had learnt scarcely anything.

My brother had got married, and I knew that I had to give up all and expect nothing. For me loneliness never had any terror. No one could be less dependent on outward society than I was, yet I could enjoy it, only I never craved after it, nor was it necessary for my existence--I was one who have had always to stand alone. Perhaps the sharpest anguish is that which nobody knows of. I have been so unaccustomed, to sympathy that I can sit still and endure anything; I did everything at my own risk. I have had to work for all I have ever received, and some have done their best to hinder me, so that I hardly knew what to do, although I am sure I was most unselfish. The marriages of my father and brother altered things, and somebody else came in, so that the old relationships were changed. For a time I felt a soreness.

Turning things over in my mind, I see that I could not have learned anything at Sunnyside, as matters stood. More than once I thought I would like to live in Adelaide again, and was tempted to take a post in some of the business places. Only homely cooking would then be required, and I could do that well. Then, again, sometimes I had to walk all the way to Glen Osmond by myself if I lost the bus. It was a lonely road, with scarcely a house where Parkside now is. All this was long ago.

While I lived at No. 10, Rundle-street, I got to know other girls, who were also working housekeepers. One whom I used to see sometimes lived at Messrs. Wigg & Co.'s, in Rundle-street. She told me that she was going to be married, and asked whether she should speak for me. It would be nice for me and cheery, she said, but she did not think it would be for very long, as the place was to be rebuilt. My path appeared to be made plain, and I came and saw Mr. Wigg. He was satisfied, and I came to live at No. 12, Rundle-street. I had a comfortable room over the shop. None of the assistants lived there. I used to see to their meals during the day. Also under the heading of Messrs. Wigg and Co. there was a chemist's shop, with doctors' consulting-rooms, in King William-street, where the Beehive now stands. The chemists had their meals at No. 12. The evenings were lonely, but there were plenty of books, and I could either go out or sit and look into Rundle-street. I knew the engagement would be only temporary, but I had always faced my fate with courage, and faced it still. But there seemed nothing to face at Mr. Wigg's. Everyone was bright and pleasant. So I was content to bask in the present enjoyment, and I had given up troubling about what was to me a hopeless future. I had some shipmates at Government House, and went and saw them sometimes, and I found that if I left Mr. Wigg's I could go there. So I was happy, and what more could anyone desire?

While performing my new duties I wondered how things would turn out. For some time I had a busy life, with no time for regrets. The meals were in three relays. The first was at 12.30 p.m., and so on. There was only one young lady among the assistants. The shop was full of men and youths, who served the customers. How different Rundle-street looked then. There were only little tumble-down shops, but prosperity reigned, and there were no poor-looking people or naked-footed children.

A change has come now--a great change--that reaches to the core of things. We think we can endure anything, but every day the little things of life drive us nearly wild. Pleasures and trials seem both smaller when we have to face them each day.

PRINCE ALFRED IN ADELAIDE.

There were no model schools in South Australia then. I do not know who organised them, but the salesmen in Mr. Wigg's employ held classes for reading and writing gratuitously in a building which seemed partly a store, and was lit up with candles. The young gentlemen asked me if I would come and help. They said I could at least listen to the small girls reading. Having the evenings to myself I went gladly, and for a time I had a little class all to myself, and I learned something from the questions and answers that passed. The children all looked well-fed and well-clothed, and I could not help comparing their condition with that of the little ones receiving free teaching in Glasgow. Yet how the people in Glasgow would fear to come away such a distance, for at that time it was like dying to come to Australia. The people in the colony then had to keep on working and thinking with their own powers. There was not so much labor-saving machinery, and to succeed everyone had to work to the best of his capacity, and the boys and girls, too, had to help in making the most of their splendid inheritance.

One gets interested in the people with whom one is brought in contact, even although temporarily. All was very real to me. I had been in the happiest state of mind for months. Mrs. Wigg would come sometimes and see if I wanted any comforts. She came with that good-natured sympathy, and I looked forward to the days when the children would come with, her when she was interesting herself with my department in such a kind way.

Just about that time the Governor, Sir Dominic Daly, died at Government House. I do not remember whether a new Governor had been appointed, but it seemed to me such a little time afterwards that Sir James Fergusson arrived here. Then Prince Alfred was expected again, and the whole place was in a stir once more. Sir James was a wealthy man, and he sent a start of servants before him, so I thought it useless to think of the Government House employment for me. How pleasant it was, therefore, to be told I would be employed as an extra help between the kitchen and the still-room. I saw the housekeeper, Miss Anderson, and I engaged to come when they had all settled at Government House. In the meantime Mr. J. N. Hines, from Parliament House, had charge of the catering with the two caterers whom I did not like. If they had been there all the time I would not have gone there. Sir James brought with him a French chef. There has never since been such times at Government House. The house was altered, and some new places were built.

In what grand style everything was kept up. The footmen, with their powdered hair, knee breeches, and silk stockings, were a sight to see when they went out in the beautiful carriage with the splendid horses, and all were brought out from the old home. It was a lasting benefit to me going there. I felt a little nervous amongst so many other servants, for they looked a splendid lot of men and women, who did not think service derogatory to them. They seemed happy and dignified, and went to work accordingly. Each had his or her own work. They were not all from the same country, but were different in tongue and manner as well. There was no false pride, nor did they think that any kind of work in a house was lowering, or that there was anything degrading in menial labor.

My task was to help in the still-room. I might make a slight allusion to this still-room. It is a miniature "kitchen," where the housekeeper can make all the preserves and so on. The housekeeper's room is always close by, and there the linen and such like articles are kept. The still-room at Government House was an important place then.

There were great preparations being made in view of the coming of the Prince, who was expected to arrive at any time. Then such a lot of things would have to be done in the still-room. Much of the fine cooking for breakfast was done there, and the dessert dishes were garnished there, and many of the ornamental biscuits and cakes for dessert were made in the still-room. Sir James Fergusson had all his own household silver and linen, as well as the dessert-stands. Some that seemed the most important were twelve in number; they had to be taken to the butler every night and locked up. Each one was in its own velvet casket, and was carefully put away. They had been given to Sir James as a presentation, and were said to be pure gold. One of the things I had to do when they were in use was to see that they were in safety.

There was plenty of novelty in my surroundings at Government House. I was sent here and there. The housekeeper became ill in the wearisome days and nights, although there seemed nothing but pleasure to the favorites of fate. They got some responsible-looking person to fill her place, but she was not so clever as Miss Anderson. She was the wife of one of the orderlies who was in attendance on Colonel Hamley. For we had a regiment of soldiers here then, and Colonel Hamley was the commander. There was a row of little cottages on the banks of the Torrens, where they lived, but they have been all pulled down long ago.

I could not attempt to record each day and night at Government House. The time flew by on golden wings. My ambition was to see to the cooking. I was in the right place, for I had to go in the kitchen and help with everything after the proper housekeeper left. I think Miss Anderson was sent home again to Scotland. I grew interested in everything. I remember now the two caterers, or cooks, came and asked me if I would ask the French chef if he would let them see him dish up the beautiful substances of his cooking. He seemed to work like magic. I asked him, and he muttered something in French, while there was a look in his eyes which said No.

Every detail of that time is stamped on my memory. I suppose what made such, an impression was that I was, at any rate, where I had the chance of seeing a professional cook work, while the secret of that knowledge was not kept from me thus far. I remembered that the two cooks who came to Sunnyside always had large cookery books with, them, and in their exaltedness so acted that I could not get a glimpse of what they were engaged in. As things now transpired, they could see that my new life seemed to promise that eventually I would be able to give evidence that I had gained knowledge in the period, when something could be made out of my association with the French chef, and I felt glad that those two cooks could only gaze in longing wonder where I was gathering experience. Perhaps it gave me my revenge.

But I must tell something more about Government House and the Prince. There was nothing but visitors; there were theatricals, with a real stage fixed up in the ballroom, with balls, and evenings at home, and garden parties, luncheons, and huntings. I grew interested in all that happened about me; I was not hindered in any way when time allowed me to have a look and see what was to be seen. How pleased I was to see Mrs. Brind amongst some of the cast of characters who were going to play on the stage. Truly, she looked well in her part. I took care to let her know that I was there, and to ask her if I could do anything for her. There were no professional actors, only "amateurs." It just seemed to me as if everybody was acting.

The Prince had such a lot of other gentlemen with him, and amongst them there was a Highlander, dressed in kilts, who played the bagpipes. He used to play sometimes in the dining-room even while the dinner was in progress. He stood behind the Prince's chair. Whenever I could get a chance I liked to go and look in at the dining-room when the gas was alight. They could not see me. I thought it so nice to see whether the Prince ate his food in any way different from other people. He used to sit at one end of the table, and Sir James at the other. For most of the public functions Sir James wore his Court dress, as if in the presence of the Queen at some festivities at home. He did not look a weak amiability. How noble he was, I thought, and how his servants loved him. And how lovely was Lady Edith Fergusson, and their beautiful children. How nice they all were.

I remember that if I saw her ladyship coming I used to dart off in another direction, and she told monsieur, the chef, to tell me not to do so, as she liked to speak to us all when she met us. I did not try to get out of her way afterwards. Such a strange custom the ladies all had. It was to limp in their walk as if they were halting and lame. To get that mode some had the heel of one shoe made shorter than that of the other. It was called the "Alexandra limp." I could not help wondering at this, and I learned that the Princess of Wales had a sore foot, and that in the midst of all gaiety and glitter the society ladies all tried to seem as if they had a sore foot.

Where the tall palm tree stands on the banks of the Torrens was the vegetable garden for Government House. It was fenced all round with hedge and wire, with a door in the wall, by which we got to and fro if the gardener forgot to bring what was wanted. The door is still in the wall, but the garden has gone. I have good reason to remember one time, at least, when I was sent for something. It was dark, but I had a key and a lantern, and was told to lock the door and take the key with me to let myself in. I put the lantern down, as I did not require a light in the garden. A key was available to others, as there were more keys than one. While I was trying to open the door the Duke of Edinburgh came out. He smiled at me, and I let the things fall and stared at him. He had no attendant, but wore a soft felt hat. I stood and saw him pass out amongst the populace just like one of themselves. He locked the door and I unlocked it. I remember that as if it were only yesterday.

At the time there was a war in Paris, and monsieur used to get letters that upset him fearfully. Some that were sent from his ruined home came out of Paris in a balloon. I may add that the French chef was designated as monsieur all through the house. He was a very young man to have such a position, and he could not speak English at all well. I taught him some Scotch words. He was lively, and would go on working sometimes till midnight, but would not let me stay if he could help it.

The Prince and party went away inland somewhere for an outing. We had a period of quiet, and I got a day off to go and see the Galatea. All the kilted volunteers were going by special invitation, and in a kind way I was not forgotten. They had Mr. Archie Dixon, with his bagpipes. It was a nice day for an outing, and the whole ship was thrown open to us, and a happy time was spent there. All was wonderfully clean and orderly. All was explained to us, and we were told how the cannon and other instruments of destruction were fired, with the force of the ball, and the gunpowder, as well as what the sailors could do if they were attacked. We saw the Prince's room, which was being done up ready for the voyage home. One thing I noticed hanging up was a large portrait of Prince Albert and the Queen. The only thing I saw to make me sad was some men in chains made fast to the deck. They were white men. I can see the look on their faces yet. They were there for some misdeed, but I did hope that they would be released when they got out to sea. We went right down to where the stokers worked to keep the engines in action. We passed, I think, five decks to get there; I was glad to reach the top again. Human hearts must be made of strong material, or else how could those men live in chains, even for a day?

The time came when I felt sadness. After the Prince went away what a change there was. Where life and merriment had reigned, amid the scene of all the late festivities, there was now only silence. For in that stately home Lady Ferguson was ill--seriously ill. She had not been feeling well for some time, and it was rumored that Sir James would take her back again to Scotland if she was strong enough to travel. She died at Government House. I had left a week or so before.

I LEAVE GOVERNMENT HOUSE.

I was only an extra one for the busy time, but I was told that if a vacancy should occur I would be sent for. Use, we are told, is second nature. I grew quite used to looking down the advertising columns of the newspaper, where I read, "Wanted, wanted, wanted." I saw one day a notice that there was wanted by a lady at Glenelg a young woman, who must have some knowledge of cooking and good references. The direction was to apply to Mrs. Wright, at "The Olives," Glenelg. Years afterwards I went back to Government House as housekeeper.

I received a reply to my application to Mrs. Wright, stating that my reference proved satisfactory, and that she would be glad if I would come as soon as I could. As far as I can remember I was glad again to be near the sea. It was not exactly what I wanted; I was restless and dissatisfied. I had decided to seek a situation with some lady who travelled, as I would have liked to go back to Scotland again. But, still this would be something to do. On arriving at Mrs. Wright's I found one of my shipmates as housemaid. It was a large house, in pleasant, well-kept grounds. I was taken to my room, on the second floor. It was large and comfortable, with such a nice view from the window. I was, at any rate, pleasantly housed.

Could I but live that time over again! Could I but close my mind to all, all that has happened since! Did I say happened? All that has taken place has been of my own doing. I felt very happy, for, as I now review my past, I know that I took the first step in the narrow path when I left the Olives! Delusion really came into my life, and I was wise only after the event. I am alone now with my ruined life and my lost happiness. The wearisome years creep by so slowly.

I used to travel to Adelaide to attend Mr. Lyall's church every second Sunday. I do not know why I did not give the name of my first employer, of No. 10, Rundle-street. I think it was in my mind then not to mention any names in such reminiscences as that I wrote of mine. However, my first employer's name was Mr. T. Ballantyne. He died long ago, but his brothers are still in the land of the living I am happy to say. One of the Mr. Ballantyne's used to come to the same church in Flinders-street, with his wife and family. They were always friendly to me, and show friendship even now, after all these years. When I first made acquaintance with Mr. W. Ballantyne he was in his brother's shop at 38, Rundle-street, where Mr. Birks is now. He used to come to No. 10 sometimes. His was a merry face, with an almost perpetual smile. I used to like to see him come in. So when I met him at the church he always wished to know how I was, and whether I was comfortable. So one Sunday, when I came from the Bay, he asked me if I would not like to come and live in Adelaide again. He said that where he lived they wanted some one at the shop to get meals for the young people who worked there. I told him that when I left Mrs. Wright's I would see him, but I had no thoughts of leaving them. He must have made a mistake, for I received a letter from Messrs. Robin & Birks, asking me to come to them, as they understood that I was leaving Mrs. Wright's. I could not understand, so I called and saw Mr. Robin.

How sweet is the memory of the innocent evenings I used to spend at Glenelg. I told Mr. Robin that Mr. Ballantyne had not understood me correctly, for I did not want to leave Mrs. Wright's. Mr. Ballantyne then came on the scene and talked to me, and I promised to go to 38, Rundle-street. When I got back to Glenelg I repented of what I had done, and sent a letter to say that I thought I could not take such a responsible position. Meanwhile they had made their own arrangements and they sent me a letter, in which they indicated that if I did not keep my agreement there would be trouble. A strange thought came in my mind. I told Mrs. Wright that if she would keep the place for me that I would go to Rundle-street and stop for a week or so till they could get someone else. I was so afraid of anything in the way of law that I was easily terrified. I only took a few things with me and reached the place at night. There was a small yard at the back of the premises. I found my way to the door, and as I put my hand on the knob an immense dog thrust his cold nose against my fingers. I gave a scream, which brought out the person whom I was to succeed. She was waiting for me to arrive. Then I laughed. Ah, me! could I but have seen my future at that juncture!

It was quite early in the evening. The dear woman stopped with me all night and enlightened me on all the subjects of interest. She wished to constitute herself my guide and friend, and remarked that I was so young for such a position. I learned to like the dear, kind soul, and to go and see her. The next morning began the eventful day. Even at this moment, when I look back, there rises before my mind a picture of that period. There were only a few at breakfast, and that was soon over. Mr. Ballantyne called to see if I had come. He told me I could have a room over the shop, which looked into Rundle-street, and that anything that I wanted would be attended to if I mentioned it to him. There were 28 or 30 persons for dinner and tea, and some of the men in charge slept on the premises. I had their rooms to see to, so there was a lot of work, but I was strong, and I had the evenings, while I had more wages than I had with Mrs. Wright. I was old-fashioned enough to see to that; so I became quite reconciled. There seemed a happiness about the place which soothed me. I saw Mrs. Wright, and had the rest of my things sent to 38, Rundle-street, and for a time, at least, I was happy.

The shop kept open then till 10 o'clock on Saturday night, when all had supper. On Sunday sometimes there was no one there. So I had every Sunday. Thus week by week, and month by month, I grew into a kind of home life amongst the people. My thoughts of going back to Scotland had passed away. There was no lack of kindness on the part of the firm or any of the partners. I remember there was a gas stove sent out to the old exhibition, to be exhibited. It was the first one to come in South Australia. Mr. Birks bought it and had it fixed up for me at 38. It was splendid and such a help.

And the good, old dog that made me start the first night I came there would stretch his grand old self by the door. I felt content when he was there. I often took him with me when I went out. His name was Lion and he always seemed so pleased with the part he played. Such drollery was caused by this dog's sport. He would upset somebody by colliding with them. Perhaps a complaint would be made, and then you would hear his owner say that he would give Lion a talking to. That made everyone laugh. I never knew him to bite, but he was such a size. Sitting as I do now, so lonely and miserable, how I wish Lion was at the door; I would not feel the darkness so much.

Music and singing have always been a pleasure to me. It interested me at favorable times when the young gentlemen who lived on the premises gave a musical evening, with dancing as well. How I enjoyed myself. Life was life to me then. There was a large room over the shop, and as in many other business places the owners of the shops lived on the premises. I was experienced enough to do a little catering for them, and, needless to add, they set value on my efforts. I talk of the dear old times yet when I see some of them.

We often get fond of people with whom we associate even temporarily in this way. This happens in the everyday life, and some will influence us, although we know not how. We cannot help thinking of them just a little. So many different feelings one has to struggle against, one gets attracted to a person sometime through gratitude, or it might be either joy or grief felt in common. But if passion comes it leads to captivity, and we cannot get out, even if we try.

In all that I have written so far there has not been one line about love. I do not like to touch on my lost daydreams. I had a suitor in Scotland, but did not take his attentions seriously, for while, intellectually, he was above me, being such a splendid scholar, love did not enter into my views at that time. But he used to come and give me lessons in writing and I accepted him. But when it was resolved that I should come to South Australia duty seemed to hold out strongly the resolution that I must give my lover up. He implored me not to do so, and wanted me not to come. He was manly and sincere enough in his love. I told him my intention to come, and that he must wait seven years for me, or come to South Australia after I had done what I wanted for my relatives. And I gave my promise that I would be true. I wrote to him all the time, and he also wrote to me till the year 1870. I had no letters and felt forlorn. At this time I came in kindly touch with John Allen at 38, Rundle-street. As we grew more friendly John Allen confided to me his past and the lonely history of his life. He helped to redeem the greyness of my life. I could not tell when it dawned upon me, but, like other women, I was capable of loving, and the knowledge came. It was pleasant to think I would share the ups and downs of life's struggles with the man I loved, and who had aroused this feeling and won my heart. It was the old, old story, and I managed to convince him that I was not the least afraid of poverty. I told him of my engagement and how it was ended. My heart had longed for practical sympathy, and it was some happiness to think that John Allen and myself had much in common. So far, I had not questioned my wisdom in thus allowing myself to be carried away by my feelings, even although he was a few years younger than I was. The thought came that, perhaps, I had been rather hasty as matters stood, but when John Allen went and brought his mother's Bible to show me that his father and mother were relatively of the same age as we were, wisely or unwisely, I pledged myself to John Allen. Their names and ages were written in the Bible.

Of course, I loved him. I have always loved him, and from that time to this my mind has been filled with one individual--John Allen. It was natural; we were in the same house of business. I did not try to get out his way and he unmistakably did everything he could to get into my way. We were together morning, noon, and night for more than two years. So I resolved to cast in my lot with the man I loved. I looked to him. I did not consider it necessary to consult my people. They had all done the same, and did not hesitate or think of me. John Allen had no relations with whom he was on friendly terms in South Australia. He seemed then as if he thought only of me. I was very happy in a sense. There was a rest, and yet an unrest. I knew that he had told me he would like to go to England.

You may picture my astonishment when John Allen came to me one day with a letter in his hand that had been at the bottom of the sea for two years. My name and address were only just legible, and the edges were open like a book. It was from my friend in Scotland, telling me that my seven years were up and that he wanted this point settled. I will not pretend that I did not suffer. It seemed a destiny. I wrote to him that it was useless to think of me, for I knew that my marriage with him would be loveless. I told him I was wiser now. The man I loved was perfect in my eyes. I had met other men, who had pleased my fancy, but John Allen had a charm of manner that won my heart. What I regretted most was to break my promise--a promise so marked and solemn, given far away in Scotland, while sitting on the side of heather hill. If I had been a designing woman I could have accepted for my husband the second mate of the Morning Star, who waited till the two years I had contracted to stop in South Australia were over. Then, what was so real on the ship, seemed only a dream, when he wrote and asked me if I would marry him and go back to England if he came for me. I knew then that I had my dream of honorable love and marriage. It was not to be. Upon what trifles events turn. If I had not gone to 38 everything would have been different.

I GET MARRIED.

In the year 1874 I became John Allen's wife. What has turned out so evil seemed to me as good. I thought all well lost for love, for it is so. He arranged it all; I left it to him. We were married very quietly at St. Paul's Church in the morning. Not a soul was to know, and there would be no fuss, or anything out of the way, but just our two selves. How all comes back to me, as I think of those simple details. I thought how happy I should make him; how hard I would try to be a good wife to him, for I loved him so. In a week or so my husband went to London and I was to work till he came back, which I hoped would be only a year afterwards. But he stopped away for three years.

Long before John went to England new buildings had been put up for business purposes only, but the firm still found provisions for the assistants. I could have stopped on there, only there was no convenience for me to sleep, so I found a situation in a gentleman's house, where I could sleep at night. My mistress was Mrs. Arthur Blyth, of St. Margaret's, Childers-street, North Adelaide. She wanted a cook, and I applied. They were satisfied with my reference and I got the place. There was only Mr., Mrs., and Miss Blyth. It was a well-appointed home, and I had no washing to do or ironing. I was beginning to be a fairly good cook and they were pleased with me. I had a comfortable home.

I knew I had married into poverty and I resolved to get as much as I could before John came back. I could put up with anything, as I hoped to have my rightful place with my husband some day. Mr. Blyth was knighted and soon after that they went to England, where Sir Arthur was Agent-General. Again for me were the shifting sands.

Speedily I got another home with Mrs. Murray, whose husband was a member of the firm of D. & W. Murray's. Their house was at the corner of Wakefield and Hutt streets. I had a lot more to do there than I had at Mrs. Blyth's. I had all the washing and ironing to do. There was one other girl, a coachman, and myself. They kept a lot of company and they had only recently returned from London. Travel and voyages seemed to bring such a lot of visitors. It was a relief to be done. I used to get letters from my husband, but there was always delay after delay, and all this time I had not told anyone that I was John Allen's wife. Such was the beginning of my married life.

Does anyone love on purpose I wonder? I could not help doing so. It did not bring me happiness. It made the whole difference when I had to tell an admirer that I was a wife with no husband. Nothing could undo the past. After all, I am John Allen's wife. I had any amount of pity and blame, but cared for none of this, and I am now beyond caring.

But I must keep to that time. My brother was taken ill with rheumatism and he could not move. He had a furniture shop in Hindley-street. He had three little children, and, by the irony of fate, my sister-in-law met with an accident and was taken to the "hospital." I used to go from Hutt-street to Hindley-street, after attending a late dinner. There were no cars then in the streets and I had to walk. I would try to do something for those dear ones. And sometimes it would be nearly 11 o'clock before I could start back for Hutt-street. I may have many faults, but I am no coward. I could face what awaited me, but truly dismay would come if I saw a "group" of men or youths standing in the street on my way to Hutt-street. I would run past. Only once a man I tried to get pass stretched out his arms and caught me. He let me go as quickly. I felt I was able to take care of myself so long as I was not caught hold of. I felt lonely. I would sit and cry as if tears would do anything. I cried and cried. The firm at 38, Rundle-street had another shop in Hindley-street. Some changes were made and one of the firm went to the shop in Hindley-street. He was my employer before, and I learned that he wanted someone in the same capacity as in Rundle-street. I told Mrs. Murray my distress at having to come so far so late at night. She was very much put out. Still I think she realised my situation when I explained that I was going back to my late employer.

All things considered, I had cause to be thankful. My quarters were not at all uncomfortable, and there were some of the young people from 38 there to work and to live on the premises. Hutt-street was a more pleasing-looking place to live, but how I dreaded to walk down there in the night-time. When I see the cars now travelling to that part of the city those dark and lone way-marks all come back. I was glad when my sister-in-law got to her home again.

So the time went on. It certainly had a bright side, for I had more time, and could go and see my friends at favorable times and on the Sundays. The only drawback was some queer-looking old houses I had to pass at the back, as I came out and in, for I saw some vicious-looking people, which made me feel slightly nervous. I was often there all by myself on the holiday time; no one else being in the whole place. I have heard those people quarrelling at all hours of the night and making darkness horrible. There was only a small fence with a right-of-way to separate it from us. The shop was a drapery, clothing, and millinery establishment, and the proprietor of the shop was responsible for the rents of the old houses at the back. No one could have complained of the place as dull in the daytime. From early morning till closing time I was amused by some eventful excitement in what was taking place. The shop was opposite to what is now the Skating Rink, or Ice Palace. At that time there could be seen at the shop doors and on every available place the goods put out in rolls for show and they had price-tickets on. One Saturday afternoon I was looking out of the back window, when I saw a woman who lived in one of the old houses going into her house with a roll of tweed tartan over her shoulder and a ticket dangling loose to tell how much a yard it was. It being tea-time, I called some of the young men just in time to see it. They said it was taken from the front door. The police were sent for and her place was searched, and it was found she had enough stuff there to stock a shop.

All the things were brought into our place. There were rolls upon rolls of all sorts of materials, with 27 suits of boys' clothing, and so on. It turned out that there were the trade marks of many other shops on goods there as well, and each one came and got his own. The woman was taken to prison, and on the Monday morning the owners had each to go and identify his own goods. All the things were taken to the station. I had to go, too. I was summoned in the name of Macdonald. It was then that I told my employer that I was John Allen's wife. I could not give a name that I had no right to. There was no end of trouble about those goods, and the case being more than could be settled in the Police Court the matter went on to the Supreme Court, for trial. We had to go to the Supreme Court when the time came.

Day after day before John went to England, he told me of some relative of his who had married a second time in a very short interval. I only knew what he chose to tell me of this friend. I thought this friend was the cause of my husband staying away so long. I had a letter from him to say that he would like to bring this relative with him to Australia when he came back, and I was to send a telegram to say "Yes" or "No." I made enquiries about the cost of the telegram, and was told that, with the name and address, it would cost me over L6. The sending of telegrams was very new then. I would have said "No," I am quite sure. Although I would not wish to do an unkind action, behind this was my suffering. John knew my opinions on that subject, and calm reason could have told him I could not have acted differently.

Again and again would arise in my mind instances I knew of both at 38, Rundle-street, and elsewhere, of marriages like mine, which had been apparently happy, and where promises had been loyally kept, and both were blessed. The objectless course my life was taking did not make matters any better. Who was I that I could not do as others had done without sin? Then I had to accept the unpalatable advice all round that I should not have married. With one thing and another fresh difficulties for ever seemed cropping up with regard to my husband. Has this sort of thing ever been sufficient to satisfy a woman's heart I wonder? All the forces of evil were arrayed against me at that time.

Then he wrote and said that he was coming back, and I thought after what I had written to him that I had gained my point, and that he was returning to me. I had formed my own opinion of the man I had married, and I was impressed with the tone of his life when I first knew him. There was nothing foppish about John Allen. He was courteous toward women, and this contrasted well with the familiarity of some young men, whom we both knew. I wanted no unwarrantable interference between him and me. I knew I would do my best for him, but that if anything upset my confidence in him he would find my convictions were strong, and that strong they would remain, despite human affection, or soreness of heart. People do wise things and foolish things for the sake of love, which they would never think of doing at other times.

So I brightened up, and set about my work with a sense of duty. I was happy; yes, a really happy girl once more. I had allowed myself to believe that at last, after my many disappointments, my husband would really come. He did not positively give the name of the steamer by which he was coming, or when he would arrive. I felt a nameless uneasiness, for I had bought over the goodwill of a boarding-house in Pirie-street, and paid L50 for it. Several of the gentlemen already there remained on. My reason for choosing this home was that I felt so full of energy, that the thought of doing nothing, and being a helpless creature, was one that did not suit me. I hoped John would see everything in the same light. To me life in all its aspects was so real. I had no false pride. One can never foretell events, and sometimes all things seem possible. An any rate, it was my own money I used. I never troubled my husband for any support. Perhaps that could not be helped, but I do know that I had not a shilling in the world when John went away. I have no choice but to speak the truth, and I think he will forgive me for doing so after all I have gone through.

One day a business gentleman came to see if I could find room for a young clerk, who was coming to his warehouse in Rundle-street. He asked if I could have the room ready for that night, as the steamboat was hourly expected. When evening came I waited and watched for this young man. My anxiety made life a continual waiting for my husband. Day after day, and night after night, I thought of him. I can scarcely bear to think of that time. I felt that when he arrived he would go to some of his friends, who would tell him my address in Pirie-street. On that eventful night that the young man was to arrive I had gone to bed when a knock came to the door. I opened the door, thinking it was the man for whom the room had been made ready. In came my husband. He was but little changed. I thought him better looking.

I will say nothing about this mad love of mine. John went always straight to his point, whatever it was, and before he was in my room five minutes he told me that his relative had come. It was the one we had quarrelled about in our letters. I never quite knew what I said, but whatever the words were he understood them. I lost all control of myself. All my hopes were quenched in a moment, and the future seemed most terrible to me. I saw everything, and it was not as I hoped it would be. It never dawned on me that his feelings for me could be any different from my own for him.

A PARTING OF WAYS.

The next day I realised how great was the gulf which lay between us. I hated concealment. After a few very unhappy weeks there came the parting of our ways. John said it was all my fault. Truly opinions differ. He told me his love was only boy's love. I don't dispute that, but still it was love, and how was I to know that it would die right away. In vain I tried to keep on as if nothing was the matter. Any hope of being able to bear my burden in silence, in such a place as a boarding-house, was not to be thought of. The rumor spread. I was ill for a time, and suffered a good deal. I knew all joy in life was over for me. I was subject to all kinds of comments as to the real reason why my husband left home. When I got better I knew I would have to face life's duty again. I could not bear my trouble on the spot; I thought to escape from the scene where I had failed so. As my brother had supplied some of the furniture for a consideration, I got him and his wife to come into the house. I thought I would find pain more easily borne if I passed swiftly from place to place, and I advertised for a housekeeper's position. Beyond that, I had no plan just then, but I had a fixed purpose to leave Adelaide. Bitter as had been my experience, now that my husband had left me, perhaps for ever, I nerved myself to the struggle. I resented the blight, which was on me while I was in Adelaide and breathing the same air as they; I had a wish to be free. Something prevented me from giving up altogether, or I might have been led into the depths, and have clouded my life for ever; I loathed the very sight of evil.

I got a reply to my advertisement. It was a request to take charge as housekeeper at the Clarence Hotel in King William-street. I did not have far to go. I had commonsense enough to think that the excitement of hotel life would be a possible relief for my troubles. Still, I used to wend my way to the shipping company in the hope of getting a passage anywhere. I knew I could travel well by sea, and as stewardess--if such a post had been open--I would have gone without delay. The Clarence Hotel was a busy place then. Underground there were large dining-rooms, known as "The Shades," where hundreds came every day. There were very few places for that purpose in the city then. What is now the Tivoli Theatre, was then only "White's" Rooms. The proprietor of the hotel had charge of those "shades," or dining-rooms, which were for the public. I did not have any work to do there, but had only to see that it was carefully managed. I had to deal with the tradespeople and to give out the stores. I was employed there because the landlady was ill. There was no family, except a little adopted girl. There was, however, plenty to do, and existence had to be struggled for. It did seem a rush to get all that was wanted for so many. There were both men and women cooks, and men and women waitresses, with other employes about. Apart from the "Shades" downstairs, we had both public and private dining-rooms upstairs. I saw to the letting of the rooms, and also attended the people who hired the apartments there. For the most part they were either musical or theatrical people.

I can well remember Nellie Stewart's father engaging rooms for himself and his two daughters. After all those bygone years I saw Nellie Stewart the other day looking so young. Maggie Moore was staying there, too. She was Mrs. Williamson then. There was plenty of delight and excitement everywhere, and no restrictions were placed on my movements. I came in contact with and was on speaking terms with many congenial people, and was removed from the miserable sufferings which had made up my life just previously. But all the amusements, to which I had a free "entree," could not make up for the human fellowship which was snatched from me.

My courage would sink when I saw my husband and his friend coming along from the Post-Office in King William-street. They would be laughing and looking so gay. Then my mind would go back to the time, unspoiled by pain, which he and I had together. Surely when I married John S. O. Allen it never occurred to me that it would be a union with one who would in no way help me onward. He devoted himself to his relative, but this did not lessen the pain that such a factor should have come to another person's houses and sow discord. If I had found out in time I would not have been in South Australia when they came. I was deprived of all now, when I wanted companionship most; and from his point of view everything I did was simply detestable. I could do nothing to please him. He would tell me so with a sneer. My future was all a blank. I learned from a conversation between my master and mistress that they would like to sell over the goodwill of the Clarence Hotel. There was again the inevitable. I did not mind much, because I was brought up in the midst of real privations, such as affected myself only. But I could not ignore the scandal or forget that the world might imagine that I had been very busy weaving nets, and that I had caught myself in them, as was sometimes told me. It was no easy matter to go out and in, and to hear and see so much humiliation. I remained at the Clarence till my employer sold the business.

I was sorry, for it was peopled with kindly human beings, whom I knew well and could mix with, even to the maids. When I went there first, as they told me afterwards, they had made up their minds not to like me. As I was the first housekeeper to take charge over them they looked on my coming with annoyance, but, anyhow, I felt confident that I would do what was right for all, and I had, in various ways, seen to their comfort, both in regard to their meals and their bedrooms. I was grateful to those waiting men and maids when I saw how pleased they were to help me in any emergency. The lady, when well, was very fond of going out. I could not object to that, although I had no time for much outing, but I had to go. I went everywhere with her. They had a private house at Norwood. A man and wife lived there as caretakers, and all the hotel washing was done there. I was always glad to go there, the garden being a consideration. We drove about, too, wherever the lady wished. I never before had such times. What with the theatre, and one thing and another no one would think that I was a discarded wife. I had tried hard not to be crushed, and faced my loss, only there was the discontent left, and, so far, all effort to forget was of no use at all.

At last the valuation of the hotel was set about and the people who came in did not require a housekeeper. My employers went to their house at Norwood. I knew it would take all my courage to endure what was before me, with no scrap of human kindness to help me. My only desire was to find some hiding-place, where I would not hear the ceaseless "Poor Mrs. Allen" spoken, as I heard it that day. Forlorn in spirit, I went to Port Adelaide. A lady and gentleman whom I knew had taken the management of a new club there. I thought if I could get a place till I could find a ship that would take me away, I would be glad to do anything till then. Life seemed no worse than at other times. I did not sit down and pity myself. It was others with their pity that I did not want. My early experience gave me the possibility of bearing real pressure, and I knew what it was to be homeless. I am telling my story in my own way.

I went with the people I mentioned. They were kindness itself. They were only newly married and did not understand housekeeping. I worked henceforward with but one object in view, though it was long before I realised it. At last the opportunity came to go as stewardess on a sailing vessel. I would have liked better if I could have had the chance to go on a steamboat. The ship I went in was the South Australian and she was under the command of Captain Bruce.

I remembered who I was, and what I was, and why I was on board that ship. It was a conundrum. I was not on pleasure bent and did not know where I was going. The ship looked as if bound on an excursion, Captain Bruce being a favorite with those who went sea voyages. He had on board his wife and baby daughter, and a maid. The doctor was also a married man and was accompanied by his wife, a little baby, and a maid also. Such a number of people whom I knew were on board. All on one side of the "saloon" was occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Matthew Goode and their family. Amongst the other pleasing people on board were the Rev. Charles Clark. He went as far as South Africa. Mr. R. S. Smythe was a traveller, too. It was January 8 when they started and a fine morning, but when a strong wind and a rough sea caught the sails I had plenty to do.

I RETURN TO SCOTLAND.

It was no hardship for me to be on the ocean, but for one thing there was not much scope for recollection of my troubles for the first few days. Little by little I began to feel the goodwill of the people on board. What pleasure Mr. and Mrs. Harris, from Prospect, showed in being kind to me who had so little to make life worth living. I got to know Mr. and Mrs. Harris very soon after I came to South Australia, when the future for me looked bright and sunny. I dared not cast a glance into the future at times. The ship was so crowded that I had to sleep in what was known as the deckhouse, and so did the doctor's maid. As the South Australian steadily surged along there were many notes of mirth and laughter, and they were loudest wherever the Rev. Charles Clark happened to be. When it was nice and calm all would be invited to the poop, where Mr. Clark would read and recite to us from Charles Dickens and others. Then there were other amusements, such as concerts and theatricals. I was under no restraint in the ship, but went about all over it.

There was a tiny boy put on board just before we sailed. He was to be given to his relatives when the ship reached London, but nobody seemed to have any particular charge of the wee laddie, and I liked to know that he was in bed every night before I went myself. He would get away in the forecastle with the sailors, and I was frightened when I saw him up in the rigging ever so high. I made little caps for him and mended his clothes. Some of the ladies taught me some fancy work, and I taught them how to knit stockings. I was asked by one lady if I would go on to the Continent with them. This was opportune and the one thing I wished, while I had plenty of time to think the matter over before we got to London, if I could only decide what to do.

Until then I did not know how much woman can bear and live through. On board the Morning Star I felt influenced by all that was best in me. We cannot sever right from wrong. I knew my marriage was a failure, and how I dreaded the by-and-bye. Was it to be like this, always empty of happiness? Gone for ever were the innocent days of girlhood. I have lived a lifetime since then. Although a sea rolled between my husband and me, and I hoped in that way to forget him, my thoughts would revert to him and his cousin. He consoled himself with her society for three years in England, and he was not necessarily without her society now. I sometimes wonder even now, in a dull dazed way, if this lonely wretched being is really I. "It was very imprudent and impulsive of me to go to sea," but calm reason told me I could not have acted differently. After what had been told me by credible witnesses the underhand ways seemed so intolerable. It was assumed that I had no right to resent it, and that there should have been no more consideration for me than if I had been an Indian squaw. To write about this is like living through that awful time again. I let myself go away, and yet I loved that man better than anything in the whole world. Life to me was hard and bitter and cruel, but on that blue sea I prayed that I would not be beaten. In a suppressed voice I declared "I won't be beaten in life so soon." It seemed as if I was as a leaf driven before the wind, and so how could I ask God to help me not to be weak and vanquished. It seemed to me as though I could never know what fear meant again; yet I wanted a little guidance just then.

I am typewriting most of this with some of the old writings before me written on board the South Australian. That voyage nerved me to face life with renewed courage. I could see that it was clearly meant that I should live the rest of my life alone, with no human companionship. Having faced that fact, the greatest bitterness was over, but learning the lesson was hard. I was now strong once more.

The good old South Australian went along so gently, but one began to long to see land again. The vessel called no where till she came to Cape Town. And it took six weeks to get there from Port Adelaide. Only one accident happened in all that time. One of the seamen fell overboard. It was a fine morning and he could swim, and there was great rejoicing when he was safely landed on the deck. I could just see his head such a long way out in the sea. Every one came on deck, and some suggested that a hot bath of sea water should be ready for him, but when he got on board he simply laughed, rushed to the forecastle, and was up the rigging again in quick time. "Going ashore at Cape Town" was the topic, and one heard nothing else till the time came.

The South Australian was anchored nine miles out at sea. The passengers thought this was on account of the rocky nature of the coast, but the real reason was that the captain was afraid that the crew would desert the ship and go off to the diamond fields. We were surrounded by different kinds of boats. Our ship looked so high out of the water, with those little boats near tossing about in the rough sea. It seemed as if there were no means of getting into any of the vessels alongside. There was no gangway or passage to the ships. They had a chair constructed out of a cask and hoisted to the yard-arm. It was then drawn up to clear the ship and the passengers were dropped into one of the little boats. Some went ashore in that way the first day. There were better contrivances the next, as the sea was not so rough, and I got ashore with the rest and landed at Table Bay. I had often read about it, but when I saw it everything looked so foreign. The captain, his wife, and child, and maid took me with them to the George Hotel, where I lodged while ashore.

Cape Town delighted everybody. The next morning some of the captain's friends came in a carriage and all went inland for a drive. I wandered about all alone; I saw where the market was and many beautiful buildings, and also the place where the ship's washing was done by men. The people were all so different to Europeans in their dress and manner, as well as in respect to the color of their skin. There were Hottentots and Kaffirs, Zulus, and many others of all nationalities. To me it was wonderland. And then there was Table Mountain, soaring to the sky. I found the way to "Oak-avenue," a grove of oak trees of such a size running on each side of this wide avenue which lead into the Botanical Gardens and the Zoological Gardens. There were seats all about, so nice to rest on during a hot day, and it was hot just then. From the description of the animals at the Zoological Gardens as being fierce and savage, I had decided not to go into the gardens alone.

Mr. and Mrs. Harris and another gentleman came along, and they suggested that if I would lodge with them while we were ashore I would not be so lonely. I gladly consented, but we had to ask the captain in the evening, so I spent the whole day with Mr. and Mrs. Harris and their friend. We all went to the gardens, and I did not think them so fine as the Adelaide Gardens by a long way. But the sight of the animals struck me with awe. The gentleman said he would like to see some of them on the banks of the Torrens. I would not. The captain was willing, so I was free to go with Mr. and Mrs. Harris. But before doing that I went back to the ship again. They were lodging with a Boer lady. She was a widow. The place looked beautiful and clean. The house must have been built during the early Dutch settlement. It looked ancient, yet strong of structure. It was flat roofed, and the first thing that I noticed was that it had no ceilings, but only oaken rafters, in all the rooms. The windows were fairly large, but with such tiny panes of glass. The floors were bare, with only a mat here and there, and there were no ornaments, but only just things for use. The floors were dark to look like the rafters. The house was full of boarders, and the attendants were a mixture of Zulus and Kaffirs and Malays. Those women are trained for house work. The landlady's name was Mrs. Lund. She spoke English well, and seemed anxious to know how we did things in South Australia.

I made it a point of interest to see the Dutch mode of domestic management, so the next day she showed me all over the place. It was considered a clean town, and the sanitary arrangements were good. There was no deep drainage, although the house was in the middle of the town. I saw the kitchen and other departments. No wonder that the Europeans do not work much there, for they could get a well-trained help for five shillings a month.

They had tramcars in Cape Town, although not running through the streets. Many of the streets seemed all up hill. We got into a car drawn by horses. You could travel inside or out, and we went to Sea Point, about 10 miles along by the sea. There was a terrible mass of rocks standing here and there in the sea which made one feel solemn. There were grand looking houses, with large vineyards and strange trees all about. We passed a large tract of land used for a burying ground, and you could notice the difference between the graves. Each one had its own singularity. Where we saw the tomb with a cross on it we knew it was English. We could see this from the cars. There were houses being built in some of the places we passed, and Mr. Harris was interested in them as we saw natives working away at painting, carpentry, and masonry, and all sorts of trades, just like other men. Only each one was dressed according to his nationality. We passed a large ostrich farm, and saw numerous "birds."

That evening in the verandah we heard joyful singing in Dutch voices. I asked Mrs. Lund's sister what it was all about, and she told me that it was the anniversary of the day when the slaves were freed from bondage. I asked her what she thought of the times when people could be bought and sold. She told me that as a child she had often gone with her father to the market, and she pointed to the market place, and had seen him buy the people he wanted. She herself would pick on some. All had something to say about slavery. It gave me something to think about when I learned that she did approve of the times when she could go and buy the slaves. I forget the lady's name, but her home was at Natal. I liked Mrs. Lund the best.

I told her how I was journeying, I knew not where, and she was the kindest woman I have ever known. When I came ashore I thought it would be cold in Cape Town, and so I had very thick garments. Mrs. Lund gave me some of her outside garments, together with a sunshade, so that I could go about, and said if circumstances should bring me back to Cape Town again that I need not be afraid. I used to write to her, and I gave some of her cards to friends. The kindness of this Dutch lady made me grateful. Mr. and Mrs. Harris were also most kind, and took me with them everywhere. We all went to the market one morning. Everyone was calling out what he or she had to sell. To see how the way they dressed was something wonderful. The native women wore sandals and the native men also. I shall never forget going into a shop to buy some wool. Mrs. Harris and I entered, and a man came to us and said, in good English, that he knew that we would come for some wool. I asked him how he knew, and he said he heard me say when passing that morning, "What pretty wool." I remembered the remark. The man looked a picture. He had sandals on, his doublet was of rich crimson, with green and golden colors for the rest of his apparel. It did not matter what nationality they were, they could all speak Dutch. What lovely fruit we got there. The pineapples were very plentiful, while crayfish by the caskful were sent on board.

The morning we were leaving Mrs. Lund sent some of her servants to gather wildflowers for us. The wildflowers of South Africa were showy and bright. We saw two camels, equipped for a journey in the desert, with their Arabian drivers. It was February 24 when we landed there, and the climate seemed very, like that of South Australia, only the tract of country I saw looked dark. The poor old jetty or landing-place was very primitive. The wood part of the jetty, from its appearance, must have been very old. It seemed worm-eaten, and long moss was growing on it. They have built a breakwater within the last few years, which comes out in the sea thousands of feet, and in the stormy weather it is a great protection. I scarcely knew what to take note of first. I saw any quantity of donkeys in harness, and all sorts of strange-looking conveyances.

While ashore it was all spare time to me, for there was only sightseeing and writing to do. At every turn there was something to make one think, if it was only to see some sailors eagerly clutching in their arms some ostrich feathers as they made haste to get to their ships. Mr. H. M. Stanley, the African explorer, had been at Cape Town just a little while before, and from the many different photographs of him and his mixed troops one saw he must have been on a good many occasions in Cape Town while attempting to find Dr. Livingstone. I was ardent concerning every object about Dr. Livingstone. Ever since I could remember I had heard him spoken of in Scotland. I bought all the portraits of those two grand men that I could afford, and took them to my friends in Scotland.

The buildings were most beautiful. But Table Mountain was the charm to me. I could not keep my eyes off it. There was open war going on at Natal, which brought such numbers of people to the Cape. That was why Mrs. Lund's sister was there. Table Bay looked as active as if the hostilities were there. One could constantly see the warships coming in or going out. One ship came in the day we left with, I forget how many, widows of the soldiers who had been slain at Natal. They were taking those poor women to St. Helena. It was a sad sight. I saw that the decks of the ship were crowded with women without any hats but only a handkerchief tied round their heads.

Two things were stamped on my mind that day to remember for ever. One was to see those sad-looking women; and the other was when Mr. Harris went to pay Mrs. Lund for me. She would not charge anything for me. Truly I was one who ventured out without gold or scrip. The woman meant to be kind, but I realised the old motto, "Owe no man anything." It was a new experience to me. I always did like to be free from obligation. This unusual sympathy gave a human interest to the last glimpse of loveliness that stretched out and about as far as the eye could see as we got on board the old familiar ship again.

I was back to active work once more, and I was glad to see the little tiny boy again. Now let come what may it was felt we would soon be in London. Things ran all in the same groove, and sometimes the quiet grew oppressive in a pause of the wind. We did not have the Rev. Charles Clark after leaving the Cape. It made such a difference. All were now talking about where they were going when they got to England. I was asked where I was going; I did not quite know.

The only incident of any interest occurred when the ship anchored one Sunday morning at St. Helena. Only the captain and the first mate went ashore. We were so close that the people on shore could be seen. That was the place to which they were taking those women we had seen a week before. The island was a fortress in times of peace; the chief interest was Napoleon's tomb and the Jacob's Ladder, from the shore to the upper part of the island. How far away those times seem, and yet I saw by "The Advertiser" this morning (as I write) that Mr. R. S. Smythe still trips to and fro. He was the active manager for the Rev. Charles Clark in Cape Town at the time of the events with which I am dealing in this story. He has been there on the same kind of work since then.

The captain began to have some cleaning and painting done to the ship before getting in to London. Some pots of white paint were left about on the deck. The steward had a live kangaroo, which he was taking home to exhibit, I suppose. It was in a place on the deck, and the little boy whom nobody owned thought he would make the kangaroo think that the white paint was milk. The animal sipped some and died. It was mischievous of the child and for him it was a rude awakening. He had to keep very quiet all the rest of the way.

I had nothing to complain of all the way. I was healthy. I loved to use my strength and tired myself out, there being so much to think about and wonder at; but I know that I was not happy. I was hardly ever idle. Mr. and Mrs. Harris were the first to leave the ship when it reached Plymouth, or Falmouth, I do not remember which. The ship travelled along so gently and had the Isle of Wight in view so well. Then came the River Thames. How careful the captain was all through that wonderful river; we could hear his clear strong voice above the fog-horn as we passed through so many other ships into the London docks.

I ARRIVE IN LONDON.

And then? And then? I had never been in London before. Long ere the ship was steadied at the anchorage Mr. Charles Goode came on board to see his brother and his wife and family. He brought the letters that had come from the colony. For me there were five, all in black. My dear brother died soon after I had left Adelaide. There was one dictated by himself, wishing that I would come back, if only to see how his five little children would get along. The necessities of human existence had to be grasped. This suddenly put all thoughts of the Continent out of my head. I knew I would have to leave the ship. I was sorrowing; and everyone I knew was going out of the ship. I thought I was going to be ill. So much had gone wrong, and I was face to face with trouble. When I looked in my lap I found a good few sovereigns that one and another had left there while my eyes were filled with tears. Some of the ladies told me before we got into the dock that anything they left in their cabins would be for me either to sell or otherwise dispose of. When some people came to see if I had anything to sell I told the carpenter of the ship to do what he liked with them. I was in too much grief at my painful loss to care for them. My brother was only about 30 years of age when he died. I went and saw the Rev. Dr. Oswald Dykes, D.D., at Oakley-square. I had some mourning made at once and went from shipping office to shipping office to get a berth to return to South Australia any how I could manage it. I had a nice letter with the signature of Captain Bruce. And the passengers also subscribed their names to a testimonial as to my capability on the sea. Then I had a parchment, with writing on it, from the owners of the South Australian, from their head office in London. I have that yet. It was a terrible time. If I could have got a chance I would have returned at once. I did not care whether it was in a steamboat or not.

After a few days waiting I saw Captain Alstone, of the City of Adelaide, who was taking his wife and a little child in his ship to Adelaide. I agreed to be the lady's maid for my passage back to South Australia. But they were not likely to start for a month or six weeks. It was a sailing vessel also, and I saw the captain's wife and her dear little boy. I adore children. And the lady was the most perfectly lovely woman I ever looked upon. So I had most of my things put on board the ship. The month of May had just began. I had some letters of introduction from some friends in Adelaide to their friends in Bradford, near Manchester. I had also with me some letters from friends in Adelaide to their relatives, with cordial wishes that I would go and see them if I went to Glasgow. Before I left South Australia I formed the resolution to go and see my husband's relations. I had their addresses through writing to John all the long three years he was there. Their place was in Cambridgeshire. I gave Captain Alstone the address that would find me if the ship went before the month.

I have kept a record of that time by me ever since. I was close to the Tower of London; and there was no charge, so I went in about 11 o'clock and was there till 4 o'clock. I was on the move all the time, and then did not see half of that stronghold. Oh! the grandeur and the horrors of it. It was wonderful to think what strife and passion had done during the events of the dark ages of violence and torture. There were men dressed so queerly, with long staves in their hands--the Yeomen of the Guard--who showed the visitors where persons we read of in history were imprisoned. Then the various kinds of armor were arranged in distinctive collections, according to the various periods; while there were all sorts of weapon--swords, and daggers, and axes, with breast and back plates. I saw the torture-room and the awful block and the axe which cut off the heads. It was too grim an atmosphere in which to think of either honor or glory in that fortress of chapels, and vaults and recesses, with dungeons about and beneath the building. What scenes some must have gone through while in their prison lodging. I saw the Queen's crown and her sceptre, which is said to be made of pure gold, and ever so many more things of which I have forgotten the names. There was quite a fence all round them, and some of the guards were watchful all the time. There were kings and knights on horseback, just as if they were off to the war. It would have taken a week to see it all. One thing I will never forget. Just as I was coming out at the gate one of the officials in charge of the place came after me and touched me on the shoulder. He asked if I had lost my keys. I looked in my handbag and found that I had. He said if I would come back I could have them. I was thankful, for otherwise I should have had to have the locks of my trunks taken off. I asked him how he knew that I had lost the keys. He replied that he knew that I was a stranger, as he had never seen me there before.

"But," I said, "the place was crowded."

"Yes," he replied, "but most of those people come here every day."

I only saw a few of the sights of London. I could not imagine being in London as everything seemed so uncertain there. What a place to be alone in London is. I decided to go to Cambridge, or, rather, a place a little out of Cambridge, called March. All my curiosity in that great city of London was lost amid my tangled affairs. I made enquiry and found out about the train service. I determined that anyway I would chance seeing the people, although I hardly expected that they would care to see me after what had occurred. I knew I had loved and suffered, but I had not sinned. Then why should I not see them? I arrived at what seemed a wayside station when it was a bit late. I asked where Mr. George Allen's house was, and was told that his farm was three miles distant. There was an hotel there, and I asked for a room for the night. I did not want to meet people who might show some aloofness till the following morning. In my portmanteaus there was some printed matter, showing that I had come from Australia. The hotelkeeper came into the sitting-room and made enquiries as to whether I had come from there, and alone, and we had a long talk. He knew Mr. George. All went very well, and he told me that either he or his wife would drive me over there next day. It was quite cold although only May 2, there being no fire in the room.

Both ladies and gentlemen, when Australia was mentioned, became interested and the talk became general. I was asked all sorts of questions. It came unexpectedly to me to learn how much the people knew about the colony. I thought then that if the young girls and women in Australia could have only heard the manner in which those Englishmen spoke about them they would have realised that this is an age of chivalry. According to them the colonial girl can do anything.

In the morning, after breakfast, there was the little pony carriage, with a boy, to take me to Mr. Allen's house. It had the queer name of Hook farm. It was a lovely morning and all the fields were white with daisies. The house was of two storeys and near to the road side. The people promised to wait with the carriage till I came out, if I could not stop there for a day or two. Mrs. Allen came to the door and I told her who I was. She sent for Mr. Allen, who was away on the farm. He soon arrived on horseback. The very clasp of his hand made me long to claim kinship with him. He went out and told the boy to bring my portmanteau and I was kindly treated. I found that they had a photograph of me and, as he said, I was no imposition.

There was a large family. The lady was his second wife, and she was nice too. They brought their friends to see me and took me about. I only wanted to stop for a couple of days, as I was anxious to get to Scotland, where any letters would be waiting for me, but I stayed over the Sunday. All the curios I had brought from the Cape Mr. Allen had shown to the children at the Sunday-school, and altogether I had a pleasant time, so far as they could make it one, but still there was the thought as to why John had brought his cousin to Adelaide to me. It seems that she left her own husband in Oldham. Those relations did not think it was right.

How faithful and true I could have been if life had only given me the chance. In three days after we were married he went to England and stayed there for three years. What was the use of my married life? I had hardly strength of purpose to carry anything through. I was sacrificed by ruthless hands, which took from me all that I held dear, and left me without any claim or right, except to submit to everything. Oh, the happy women who are sheltered by a husband's faithfulness! What woman could have had a more useful life than I?

Mr. Allen drove me to the railway-station. The address I had was for some people in Bradford, near Manchester. In the train I had to keep showing my ticket every here and there. I told them I was going to Bradford, and settled myself to have a good view of that beautiful country. When asked where I was going, I said, "Bradford." Trains and carriages were changed en route, and at last I found myself in Bradford, in Yorkshire. Then I showed my ticket and had it explained that the Bradford I wanted was a continuation of Manchester. I learned when I got there it bore the same relation as North Adelaide to Adelaide.

I had some tea in the town of Bradford, and got back to Manchester that night at about 11 o'clock. The people I was to go to were well known, as they kept the post and telegraph office. In this Bradford there was no break, so far as buildings went, and when I saw it afterwards it all seemed Manchester. Those kind folks had a letter from Adelaide to inform them that I would visit them, and expressing the hope that they would try and persuade the mother of the Adelaide lady to return with me to Adelaide. I got a cab to take me there, but they had gone to bed. How they did laugh when I told them I had gone to Yorkshire! I was interested in writing in my note-book all the names of the different places, but it was too much trouble to look at the ticket so many times. However, it was a lesson for me not to neglect the precaution again. Although the mistake was purely my own the railway company did not make any charge, and I got all that way back for the Manchester ticket. Mr. Allen got the ticket for me.

Only for that incident I would not have seen so many places. The train stopped at Wakefield and Halifax. It was dark coming back, and I had been in the train all that day, so that I was weary. I had the best bedroom and some supper, and when I awoke in the morning there were all the little children in the room to see the woman that came from aunty's place over the sea. There was the grandma, too, that I was to take back. She shook her head and said--"Na, na, I am a true Briton; I will never cross the sea. Here I was born, and here I will die."

There was plenty to be seen in Manchester. Mr. Ride, with whom I was staying, had a stationery and book shop, as well as the post-office, and the high reputation of Mr. and Mrs. Ride was acknowledged everywhere. They were well-known and respected. He seemed to have the "entree" to all the warehouses. In some of them I saw some busy-looking gentlemen from Adelaide hurrying about.

They took me to see the Bluecoat Boys' School. I made no note of that. I can see those dear boys now. No one could forget them. Then we went to Oldham and I did not like it so well. It looked a poor place and gloomy, and the humble people wore wooden clogs on their feet. The noise they made was distracting.

I stayed at Bradford with those people for a week. What with the people I was introduced to, the places visited, and the hospitality and amusement I received, it was enough to make me forget who I was. For the month of May it was not so warm as I had known it in Scotland at that time of the year. The eldest son had the charge of the telegraph-office, and I had the inner workings explained to me.

I RETURN TO MY OLD HOME.

It was easy to get a train from Manchester to Scotland. I went in the night train and had a nice sleeping compartment, through to Glasgow, which I reached about 7 o'clock in the morning. I had been away for ten years, but the place looked so familiar, except that they had tramcars running all over the place. I got in one and was soon at Dr. Fargus' house. A male attendant opened the door and told me that Mrs. Fargus was at their summer house at the seaside. I asked for the daughter, and was told that she was at home. She was a married lady now. I saw her and she remembered me. I brought some wild flowers and shells for her mother from the Cape. She was pleased and told me that they expected her mother back that night. She asked me to stay, and so the first night in Scotland I was in what seemed to me my old, old home. It was a rest indeed.

Mrs. Fargus returned, and I had much to tell. My listeners looked appalled; I saw tears in that dear lady's eyes, because of the ungenerousness of my husband. They would have liked me to go back to them again for all time, but I could not, however much I wished to do so, and although it was indeed a home of gladness. I slept that night in my same old bed. And the next day I went to see Mr. White, whom I had letters for, at Mary Hill, with his sons. He was in a bank in Glasgow, and he had a daughter in Adelaide. They had but one word to say--Would I come there? They had no other daughter. How they came clinging close to hear every word I could tell about their girl. There were three sons, and they were in Scotch Volunteers and wore the kilts. In the evening they brought a lot more in with kilts on to see a woman from Australia. I had one letter sent there. It was from Captain Alstone not to let me forget. I went then through the Slamannan, and after travelling about so much it did not seem far. For a time the rush of memories was awful. I got into the old identical train with a ticket for Slamannan. I cried all the way. I got there early in the afternoon. I could see no one whom I knew when I got out at the station, and I walked to the village. I saw one man whom I knew, and I made myself known to him. He took me to his home. His daughters and I were playmates as children. In walking along with him I passed the house where we lived. The door was open, and I could see the gooseberry bush that I had planted. I was not in Mr. Boyd's house five minutes before there had gathered a crowd of the people whom I used to know. Certainly I was the object of so much eagerness and curiosity that it was a comedy. They said they came for "auld lang syne." They questioned me as to whether I had seen Mr. So-and-So, who had gone to Melbourne. And someone else who had gone to Queensland. My brother-in-law's sister came and brought a large photo of her brother's place near Geelong. I remembered the man before he went there. They thought it strange I had not been to see him, as he was a prosperous and a rich man.

In a way I wondered where the young man was who had for seven years played so big a part in my life. So full of bitter memories was I that I was thankful to learn that he had gone to Wales. I was glad I did not see him. What would be the use? I shuddered at the thought. I was neither a wife nor a maid; I was nothing. It was a hard fate; yet I loved my own husband. He was so far from me and was lost for ever.

My visit to Slamannan was almost too much for me. I found many kind friends to take me here and there till I was utterly weary. I spent nearly all my time out of doors. As I stood again amongst the wild heather for the time it seemed unreal and dreamlike.

After two weeks had passed I received a telegram, telling me to be in London on a certain date. I knew where the ship was at anchor. So I only stopped one more day in Glasgow and got back by train to London. On board the City of Adelaide there were a good many passengers returning, but I did not in any way have to attend or do any act of waiting, except on the lady and her little boy. I had a nice cabin to myself and every comfort, beside a free passage for my services. The vessel was a few days in the London docks, and I stopped on the ship with the lady. I saw more of London than I had ever thought of seeing, with the captain and his wife. They took me with them, and they were very good to me. We all went to a market one afternoon; and, just think of it, I saw the tops of turnips sold at 4d. a pound. And as to the meat, I will leave that.

I felt by the movement one morning while in bed that once again we were passing through the Thames. How gently those sailing vessels seem to go along if the wind is favorable, but the City of Adelaide began to roll about soon after leaving the river. There were more rough seas in her than when I was in the South Australian. There was no note of calling anywhere en route. The lady was a good sailor and they had a nice piano on board, which the lady played and the captain sang. The captain and his wife practised with firearms on the poop at night. She seemed to enjoy it; they asked me if I would like to use the gun and try, so that if a mutiny should rise amongst the seamen there would be us three with pistols. I would not, and I could not. Thanks be to goodness they were never wanted. I did not know what to think at the time, but afterwards I thought that they were merely joking with me and never thought any mutiny would rise. All went on so evenly with nothing but the glittering sea about that I loved so well.

I had no time to write much. The little boy's name was Roland, and he and I were great friends. We went all over the ship, and knew all the sails by name. To hear Roland calling out to the men to "let go" this or that made everyone laugh. There was a family returning to Adelaide, and one of their sons died when about half-way through the voyage. It was very sorrowful, for it came so suddenly. I knew the people. There was a medical man on board, which made us feel grateful. So the days slipped by. The captain said we were rounding Cape Horn, and anyway the ship got into a regular shoal of whales. It was awful, for wherever you looked you would see those horrid monsters. It was a nice calm morning, and I had Roland in my arms. He was in high glee, and started to make a hissing noise like them as they sent up jets of water, and the ship shook. When the captain got his gun and began shooting at them we were afraid of what they might do after being shot at. So much of them was under the water that the shots might not have the desired effect of killing them. I never knew if any were killed or not, but how thankful I felt when they left off firing. The nearness of the whales dazed us. Everyone said it was out of the common to see so many. There was only the sky above and the waters around, while we were in what was like an island of whales. There was a sense of gratitude when I felt the ship glide gently away and leave those animals behind in a cluster. Roland kept the memory up all through the homeward journey. He never tired of showing what the whales did. The ship did not call in anywhere all the voyage, but from the birds we saw there must have been land near at the time.

The young doctor's name was Clark. He was coming to Adelaide to practice. Someone told him I had been in South Australia, and he got chatting with me about the health of the people and the effect of the climate. I told him I had been in South Australia for ten years, and that it had cost me nothing for medicine in all that time, and that I had never to consult a doctor. He said he hoped that there were not many more like me in Adelaide, or he would have to go back. I learnt the name of the place he went to, but I have forgotten it. He shot a large bird and gave the skin to me. I had it made into a muff, and it is as good to-day as it was at first.

All the talk was concerning the time when the ship would be in port. Needless to say I had nothing hopeful to remember, and I knew there would be little pleasure to have, as all had changed. Life had now no allurements for me, and the outside world no temptations. I could not help these feelings as the City of Adelaide was towed into Port Adelaide.

I REACH ADELAIDE AGAIN.

It was night, and I thought I would stop on board all night, but the friends who gave me the letters to Manchester came on the ship to see me and had my luggage taken to their place. I was glad, as Mrs. Alstone was going to some friends. I sent word to my people where they would find me in the morning. My few relatives were by my side when I awoke in the morning, and seeing how happy they were I forgot my own sorrow. I knew that life had once more its depths that not even the nearest could sound. It would not bear thinking about. It was only to be borne. I felt I must work, although I did not think I would begin that day, but I did. Before I got out of the train at the Adelaide station the gentleman who had the management of the club at the port where I lived up to the time I went as stewardess came to me and said he was in trouble for the want of someone to help at a banquet at the Semaphore. He had been to Adelaide and could not find any skilful help. Would I come back with him, he said; and I did; and let my friends take care of my belongings. I had really done no work of that kind all the time I was away, and after three months on the rolling ship it was so strange to find everything firm under my foot. Both this gentleman and his dear wife were friends to me through after years.

So I began work the first day I came back, and I have had to stick to it ever since. Sometimes I have been in actual need of money. I had always lent a helping hand in the years gone by, and sometimes those I wanted to help did not seem to have the energy they might have had. What knowledge I had gained I have paid a high price for, and I must confess that the kindly appreciation that I have received from people of the highest culture has often given me joy. If I could not get the kind of place I wanted I determined to take anything to keep me going. A position as cook at the Adelaide Hospital was offered to me. A woman-cook could do the work then, and I went at good wages. I liked it all right, except that it was so depressing. I saw too much of sufferings, for I went all about the wards, and if anyone was brought in whom I knew, whether it was fever or anything else, when I could get the chance I would go and see them. If I was caught by the doctors I would be severely reproved.

There were no indications that the broken pieces of my life as a wife would be mended. Still a castaway, I went and saw my husband. He did not want me. He lived with his aunt, and his cousin was there too. If a husband is one to protect you, to watch over and defend and love you; if such be a husband, then I have never known what it is to have one. For me there was only solitude and bitter anguish, and yet nobody must be made acquainted with the fact. I must put on a smiling face and go wherever I might so long as I did not come in where I was not wanted. I was not afraid of misery, but only of sin. I would not do anything wrong, and I wanted to know how to do right when others do me a wrong. I determined that I would try and get through life without reproach or any stain on my reputation, and make the most of what I knew. I had lessons on one thing and another. I liked to be dainty in my home and person and dress, as well as I could in every detail. I am fond, too, of being a good housekeeper. My employers spoilt me and often made a friend of me.

Some are here still who remember that I had the kind regard both of the doctors and the nurses, as well as of the patients at the Adelaide Hospital. They liked the way I did their food. It looked a big thing for me to take in hand; but it was not so heavy as some would think, there being three men in the kitchen to do all the cleaning. I had not a heavy thing to lift. The only drawback was that the floor were stone and so hard to stand on. The place has been much built upon since then, and is so changed in the manner of employment in the office. When I pass the place now all comes back to me so plain. In particular one night stands out. I always left a jet of gas burning in my room. Once a woman patient came in with her clothing tied up in a bundle and asked me if I would come with her to catch the train. I could see that she was off her head, so I quietly dressed and got the night-nurse. How she got on afterwards I never knew. There are some things which I shall never forget. I became accustomed to the situation and stopped at the hospital for some time. It did not matter where I was in my tangled affairs.

I wrote to my brother-in-law's brother in Geelong and told him about my visit to his relatives in Slamannan, and I made known to him that I would like to see his nice place in Geelong, and his wife and family, for they had twelve children. So he wrote and told me he would come to Adelaide and bring one of his daughters with him, and take me back with them to Geelong. Before they came I had got the position of housekeeper at Messrs. J. Miller Anderson & Co.'s in Hindley-street, and for more than two years everything went on smoothly. How delightful it would have been except for some things I saw and heard. The Theatre Royal was so close that I could see the cast of characters from my bedroom window at night. There were more than a hundred assistants to provide for, but only twelve for breakfast. I had a girl to help. The sweet memory of those times remains. How earnest everyone was to make me happy. My employers did not know that I was a discarded wife till I was there for over two years. It was more to my taste than the Adelaide Hospital, there being always something amusing to divert me. On more than one occasion people have come into my sitting-room to enquire the way back to the theatre. They got out in the right-of-way and got lost.

My friend and his daughter came from Geelong. It was a break for me, and he was glad to learn something of the old home. I promised that I would go to his place when I left Hindley-street, for it was rumored that the place used as dining-rooms and for sleeping purposes would have to be taken into the business premises. Then, as in all the other business houses, the assistants would have to dine out. How I would like to give a full account of those times. I was sorry and reluctant to say a last good-bye. They all gathered together and gave me a generous present. Then I went to Mr. MacHarry's place at Lara, near Geelong. I thought if I liked it there I would try and get something to do. They were just building the railway to that part then. I went by steamer, and Mr. MacHarry came to Melbourne to meet me. His house looked a nest of comfort I could see as we drew near. It was part farmhouse, and I was perfectly at home with the hostess and her family at once. Both the daughters and the sons had horses, and could ride and drive. Not only that, but those girls could make their own bread and play the piano and sing. So I had entertainers, and such lovely home-made bread. The You Yangs Mountains were near. If I could have got to the top what a sight it would have been. I did not care much for Geelong. It was all so quiet, and I could see nothing to suit me, so that question was settled. Those friends showed to me all the places of interest, and, in particular, all the mills where blankets and other woollens and tweeds were made. Mr. MacHarry was one of the town councillors, and no stranger wherever he went. It was quite right about him being a rich man. He made money by lime-burning. I have been there since by rail, and it is a nice place. You can go fishing or shooting so close to Geelong and Melbourne.

There was only one thing to be said, and that concerns the impossibility of breaking away from my relationships. The time came when I could not bear to think that John should think them beneath him. What was in himself that he was entitled to scorn my poor relations? Everyone may not have the marvellous gifts that some think they have, but, at least, we are human beings with our own necessities and demands no less important than those of such marvellous persons. That is why we must remember our obligations.

HOUSEKEEPER AT GOVERNMENT HOUSE.

Before I came back from Geelong I learned that they wanted a housekeeper at the Government House, Adelaide. I was advised to apply for the position. The Frenchman who was chef there when I was there told me that I knew enough for the position. It would be open for a month, and I put my name down amongst a long list of others, and sent in my testimonials even to that of being a stewardess and lady's maid. They sent for me, and I told them that I was there before, only as a young girl to do as I was told. I did not think I would be competent, but I promised to try for a month, and said that I would like to have some skilled help for all the large public functions. I knew so well what Government House was in festive times. We were at Marble Hill when my month was up. They were satisfied, and told me I could consider myself permanently employed if agreeable to me.

It would not do for me to attempt to describe the sayings and doings of that big house. I had to be in evidence at all times both to see and to speak to distinguished visitors, and often eminent celebrities. I did not find the work hard, but there was plenty of brain worry. After I had been there a year and a half the Governor and the lady, too, thought I was capable to arrange for all the banquets and large parties by myself. It was overpowering sometimes because of the late nights and the want of sleep. To cater for a thousand at one time meant a lot of consideration. I have known a hundred for dinner. I had been at work all the time and seldom ever went out. Government House had none too many appliances for those big affairs. They have had both a duchess and also a countess there when they were staying on a visit. They would come and see the kitchen. One grand lady said that her cook could not do like that with such appliances. I could see by the way the lady spoke that someone wanted my position, and I thought it was like my fate. There was always someone wanted whatever I had. So I left Government House, but not in bad friends. I think they were doubtful whether the person would suit. They asked if I would come back if my successor did not do things rightly. I forget what I said, but I felt cross.

I went to see a gentleman and lady who had the management of the Largs Pier Hotel. It was Mr. Hixon. I had lived with them at the Port Adelaide Club before I went to England. Mrs. Hixon was not very well, and they asked me if I would come as housekeeper. I admit that I rather liked the idea of going there. It was a large hotel, and I would have to see to a number of employes, to engage them or dismiss them, as the case may be. I had found Mr. and Mrs. Hixon in past years straight and upright and sincere. I felt at home with them. I was not long at my new duties before I received word from Government House that the person who succeeded me did not know enough for them there. I did not go back, as I was very comfortable where I was, and Mr. and Mrs. Hixon had the greatest confidence in me. It was a change and the sea was near, so that we often went out for a sail in one of the many boats available for us on the jetty.

I RETURN TO MY HUSBAND.

Two or three times while I was at Government House I had seen my husband, and had learned that the woman who rightly or wrongly had come between us had gone back to her own people. One day someone came and told me that John had gone to America. It upset all I was doing. It was nearly ten years since I had become his wife. I did not know what to think sometimes. It required some forgiving and forgetting, but if he were in any trouble I am quite sure I would go to him. Guess my astonishment when one evening a maid came to my room and said there was a gentleman who wanted to see me. It was an unusual incident for any gentleman to look for me in my own quarters, so I came and saw my husband coming towards me. I hurried forward to meet him as if we had never parted. He pleaded to let bygones be bygones, and come and live with him. A feeling of reassurance and content took possession of me, and I began to cherish hopes of happiness yet. I had often said to myself, "How can I live in this world alone?"

In the morning I told Mr. Hixon that I was going home to my husband. They were too humane to say no to me, so in a week's time I was with John in a wee house in Childers-street, North Adelaide. The house had only two rooms, and was back from the street. I hoped we would be able to get something better some day. One of Professor Tate's daughters was about to be married, and came one day and asked me if I would prepare a wedding feast in Buxton-street. I did so. The ladies who saw me do that work then for the first time in my life enquired if I would give lessons on cookery. Mrs. Tate gave the use of her kitchen and stove, and my first students were there. Soon I found myself with more employment than I could manage in helping families in their own homes when they had company. There was still dissatisfaction with the person who went to my place at Government House, and I was sent for to see if I would come back. They had changed more than once since I left. I did not know what to do, but I promised her ladyship before she went back to England that I would go to the Government House in case of emergency while she was gone. The Governor was in the room at the time, and he must have thought that I said I would come back permanently. He went away to some of the other colonies and sent a telegram to me to say that he would expect me to take charge as housekeeper when he came back. I was to send an answer yes or no. I thought that I would go in and out daily, and that I could still keep on our little home, and that I could explain everything when I could see Sir William. I sent word, "Yes," and when he came back I was sent for. Nothing would do, however, except for me to come in the house. I asked him what was to happen to my husband, and he said, "Let him come here too. There are plenty of rooms." He added that my husband could live there because of my services, and it would make no difference in my payment. So I went to where my husband was working and told him. He did not seem over-pleased at the idea of living at Government House, but we both thought it would not be for long, so we put our things in some friend's place and we both went into the house. That was the third time I had been there to live, and it did not seem strange to me.

There being no restraint on my husband we had nothing to complain of. He had a nice large room, where he had meetings in his capacity as secretary of the Rechabites, and he had his auditors there time after time just as if he were in his own home. We lived there for more than two years. My husband's work was in the city just close by. I never had any time to join any of those societies. No one could be less dependent on outward society than I was. I could enjoy it, but I never craved after it, as it was not necessary for my very existence. I had to give all and expect nothing. Still, I think that every individual has a right to some festivity, even if he does not belong to some sisterhood or brotherhood.

The lady did not come back as soon as I had hoped she would, and Sir William was restless. He was no sooner at Marble Hill than he would take it in his head to be off to the Bay or somewhere else. I was all the time rushing about with maids and men. I got weary of it, and gave a month's intimation that I would like to leave if he could get someone in my place. So my husband and I set about to look for a house, and decided on the one in which I live. It was in a very unfinished state, and I helped my husband to put it in order. We worked hard to make it a comfortable home, which I thought was for both of us. I knew I could be helpful. I went out to work wherever I could as a professional cook, and had a ladies' class in the house. Then there was an advertisement for someone to teach cookery at the School of Mines. I got that office, and was there for 14 years as cookery instructress. In spite of the past I worked on with pleasure, looking forward to that future which has never come.

Time went on peacefully for some years. Teaching brought me in contact with people superior to myself and with the nicest of ladies. I was pleased, for it was good for me, who had been tossed about from early girlhood, and I was thankful for my home. But even when youth is past life is still full of surprises. What a bitter thing is jealousy. If you have one taste all that comes after is poisoned. That is the worst of it.

YET ANOTHER PARTING.

My husband took care that I should not see or enjoy any of the pleasures in the many societies to which he belonged. And with curiosity I wondered why others who were not sisters of the order were going here and there. I was out of everything. Then I began to have anonymous letters, which I would not take any notice of for a long time. But when I saw things for myself all was at an end. One discovery led to another. About three years ago I let him go where his heart is. He was nice to me once. I am not the sort of woman to be satisfied with half-measures. We parted. I get my own living the best way I can. In all those trying years of my life I only once appealed to anyone to help me. I asked him if he could help, as I thought he was a good man. Some plan was hit upon, and he must have had a share in the scheme whereby I have been left to struggle in bitterness all alone. When people have come to me and told me to say nothing about what has been done to me, and that it is golden to be silent, how little they have known the pain that is in memory when all we prize has gone. Some have tried to console me by telling me that "they are glad they are not me."

I need not say that all this sort of sympathy is madness. I am happy to say that I have the best balm for sorrow. I have a busy life. There is something sad in the kind of friendships that have to be watched by the inquisitive who sit down and write about their suspicions to destroy other people's lives. I could not bend to all without some resistance. I was baffled at every turn. This "sisterly and brotherly" may be very innocent, and if I had been allowed to go to some of the public gatherings I would not have been so jealous.

We make environment and get blocked. Do not reproach me with ingratitude, but I am at war sometimes with my long life of toil now I am by myself alone. "Words, words, words." Some things are too hard either to write about or to speak of.

J. L. Bonython & Co., Printers, "The Advertiser" Office, Adelaide.

+---------------------------------------------------+ |Transcriber's note: | | | |Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. | | | +---------------------------------------------------+