happens, the reverse is the case, the result is very different, and a scene something like the following takes place.

The bullock, which has been left quietly standing in the enclosure since the early part of the day, again becomes excited upon the approach of the men, who, with their long knives, pails of water, and other requisites for his final conversion into beef, gather around the yard, awaiting the moment when he falls by the hand of "the master." But just as the latter is on the point of drawing the trigger, the animal, who has been narrowly watching his movements, lowers his head, and makes a mad charge at him, until he comes into violent concussion with the fence, while the ball whistles harmlessly over its intended victim. The bullock then turning tail, runs desperately round his prison, in search of a weak point; and having satisfied himself that none such is to be found, stands out again in the middle, and faces his danger, but with a tremulous motion of the head, which renders the next shot very much like a flying one, and causes considerable delay.

"Go over to him, sir," suggests one of the bystanders, "you'll get a better chance from the inside; he's 'quite quiet,' I've known him since he was a calf."

This bit of advice, however, the settler declines, and resting his gun upon the fence, again takes aim at the fatal spot, a little above the curl on the forehead. This time the ball takes effect, so much so that the bullock falls headlong down, and a man runs in to administer a few additional blows to make assurance doubly sure.

But he is quite premature, for the poor animal, who has been only stunned, comes to himself, and regaining his legs with the rapidity of thought, and seeing one of his tormentors within the precincts of his prison, makes after him with such good will, that he is barely saved by a precipitate scramble over the fence, to the great amusement of his companions.

It is now no easy matter to get anything like a fair shot at the victim of unskilfulness, who is tearing round the enclosures as hard as he can, and the matter must often be brought to a conclusion by catching him with a rope, in the usual way, and putting an end to his sufferings with an axe.

When however this painful scene is over, and the animal is

66

at last killed, the rest of the work is soon despatched; the carcase, having been skinned and dressed, is pulled up to the 'gallows" by means of a windlass, and left to cool during the night. At daybreak it is taken down, salted, and packed away in casks, before the sun has appeared to injure the meat, or the blow-flies have had time to learn anything about the matter.

In the large grazing districts, where the boundaries of the land, over which each stockowner exercises his right of pasture, are not clearly defined by means of fences or hedges, as in more civilized countries, disputes are naturally of frequent occurrence. When a station changes hands, it is usual for the purchaser to ride round the outside of it, accompanied by the neighbouring settlers, so that the limits may be mutually agreed upon. But in spite of every precaution misunderstandings will arise; in process of time some hill or gully, which had originally constituted the landmark, becomes forgotten, or mistaken for another; and the result is, that the right of pasture is claimed by both parties. Remonstrances succeed each other, but in vain ; each claimant is resolved to trust to his own memory rather than to that of his neighbour. Matters remain in this unsatisfactory state for a time, until some fine morning, one of the disputants, seeing a large flock of sheep, not his own, upon the contested ground, loses all patience, and starts off, on the very first horse he can catch, to the commissioner of crown lands for the district; and by him, after he has told the usual story about encroachment, damage done to his run, representing himself as the sole legitimate owner of the contested spot, and a most illused individual, he is informed that his neighbour, whose forbearance also appears to have been exhausted much about the same time, has been to the commissioner upon the very day before, and has lodged, mutatis mutandis, the same complaint. Things having come to this pass, the decision is left wholly to the commissioner, who, seeing no prospect of an amicable arrangement, appoints a day for his requested visit to the scene of controversy, usually within a month or so from the period of the appeal to his judgment; during which the disputed pasture is occupied by both parties, and consequently soon becomes as bare, and nearly as well polished, as a mahogany table.

The court of inquiry is usually held at the head station of one

of the claimants, and thither the commissioner arrives on the day appointed, where he meets both the proprietors, each with a host of witnesses. The first occupant, or he who purchased his right of pasture from the first occupant, is the lawful owner, and the point at issue consequently is the fact of prior occupation.

On the witnesses being called, first comes the shepherd of the plaintiff A., who affirms that he has been several years in his master's employ, and has fed his flock upon the disputed land ever since he can remember.

Next appears the stockkeeper of B., who declares on the other hand that his master's cattle occupied the place before any sheep were brought into the neighbourhood, and offers, in corroboration of his testimony, to point out the marks of their old "rendezvous."

But A. also produces his stockman, who states his conviction that the said rendezvous was not made by B.'s cattle at all, but by a herd belonging to a former owner of his master's station.

B. again calls up a witness of longer standing in that part of the country, and the scale of testimony is once more evenly balanced; and thus each party goes back a step beyond the other, and the subject of contention, like a Welsh pedigree, bids fair to be lost in the clouds, while the unhappy commissioner, amidst such conflicting evidence, is gradually taking leave of his wits. In addition to the usual causes of his perplexity, he loses much time from the difficulty in arriving at the real names of some of the attesting parties, for, in the bush of Australia, aliases are frequently as prevalent among the labouring classes as in the English collieries. Some of these are ludicrous enough: a neighbour of ours had a stockman who often used to be sent to our assistance at "gathering" times, and was only known, probably from his rough-riding feats, by the title of "Go by 'em ;" and I remember that on another occasion, when it was necessary to discover the real name of a man in our district, for the purpose of taking out a warrant against him, for having aided and abetted a party of bush-rangers then in the vicinity, we could get no further, for some time, than the sobriquet of "Terrible Billy."

However, to return to our trial. A. now brings forth his reserve, a man who, by his own account, is of so long standing in the neighbourhood as to have been what is called in the

colony a "first fleeter." He declares that he has been originally in the service of the actual explorer and earliest occupant of the run, part of which is now in dispute, from whom it gradually changed hands, until it fell into those of its present owner. Now, as this man is the oldest of the party, and can therefore claim the longest memory, and as, moreover, he takes care to interlard his testimony with remarks upon the "first sight of the district," wild blacks, and flocks of kangaroos in quiet possession of the plains, all the other witnesses are put to silence, and listen in admiration to their more enterprising companion.

The matter now seems brought to a conclusion, and A. and his party are already congratulating themselves on the result; but just as the commissioner is on the point of deciding the contest in their favour, a sudden idea crosses his mind: he remembers that this primæval settler, though acknowledged to have been the first occupant, omitted, on one occasion, to pay his annual assessment for stock, which has not been subsequently made good; this completely alters the state of affairs; A.'s claim, arising from his prior occupancy, is lost, and his opponent, whose predecessors have been more punctual in their payments to the crown, is installed in possession of the disputed pasture.

On a large sheep establishment the busiest day in the week is Saturday, when the supplies, consisting of tea, sugar, tobacco, wheat, and beef, are weighed out, and sent away in all directions, on carts and drays, to the various sheep-stations.

Sunday is duly observed, even in the bush. It brings with it a cessation of labour, but leisure to some brings listlessness, and to others thought, and the alien's thoughts must often be sad. With what fond regrets, at such a time, does the recollection of home rush upon the mind! The sound of the village bells seems almost to ring in the ear, as fancy recalls the church that "points with taper spire to heaven," and the once familiar faces flocking under the well-known porch. Perhaps, too, something of self-reproach mingles with the settler's dream, as his thoughts wander back to the stately towers and solemn groves of our seats of learning; and he blames the blindness of his credulity, when he left the studies which he now feels were so much more congenial to his tastes-when he left them non hoc pollicitus suis," and feels conscious that he has facul

66

ties which might be better and more usefully employed than in the occupations of the life which he has chosen. But he looks round, and everything that meets his eye reminds him that the die is cast, and repentance out of place.

Most of all does it bring weariness to his spirit to feel himself deprived of the best helps to devotion, and to be cut off from all Christian communion. Perhaps there is not a church within fifty, or even a hundred miles; and he cannot help contrasting his present desolation with the punctual observances of his early life, the veneration for which, once felt, is seldom effaced from the heart.

The philosopher may boast that he can pray anywhere, and the Christian will try to do so; but even with the wisest and best religious feeling is too apt to decline when its outward forms are withdrawn from the sight.

Blame not the toiling and overworked colonist. Let him who is inclined to censure, rather learn the value of those helps of which he has never felt the want; and be stimulated to extend to others on every possible occasion, and by all possible means, those blessings which he himself has always enjoyed.