in stormy weather, the sound may be heard
twelve or thirteen miles off—nay, more than
that, it has often been heard at Parramatta,
which is eighteen miles distant, as the crow
flies."

It was the same with the forests in England:
Windsor Forest, for instance. If any one said to
us, "There is a noble tree—what do you think of
that?" "Tree!" we would reply—"tree! Do
you call that a tree? Why it is not taller than a
blue gum sapling. In our country you may ride
through a forest and see trees which would, at
the butt, measure, on the average, ten feet in
diameter; and we have seen some trees twenty
yards in circumference. Those are trees if you
like; always in leaf, and with the outer bark the
colour of cream, and the inner bark the colour
of a rose—not like these old grey dwarfs, which
have the appearance of being dead for six months
in the year."

However, before the expiration of our sentence
of seven years, we all became not only reconciled
to Old England, its sports, its institutions, and
sensible of its manifold advantages over those of
any other portion of the earth, but when we
had taken our degrees, and had been (in
consideration, seemingly, of abjuring the Pope)
invested with black gowns, and white horse-hair
wigs, we left her shores and our friends with
something like regret. After a passage of one
hundred and nine days I again placed my foot
on the land of my birth. But, oh! what a
change was everywhere observable! A change,
according to my idea, very much for the worse.
The ships in the harbour, instead of numbering
only ten or eleven, numbered upwards of forty or
fifty. The streets were crowded with emigrants
of both sexes, and of the lowest order of the
people, who, under "the bounty system," had
been swept out of the streets of London,
Dublin, Edinburgh, Glasgow, and minor cities
or towns. Old buildings, many of them
weather-boarded houses, which had been familiar
to my sight from childhood, had been pulled
down, and on their sites were erected rows of
shops or merchants' warehouses. So vast had
been the tide of emigration towards Australia,
so busy had been the population during the term
of my exile, that I scarcely recognised my
native land.

I had not been in Sydney more than three
days, when, to my great joy, I espied at a
distance the cocked-hat and old red coat of poor
old King Bungaree. He was coming up George-
street. His gait was very shaky, but it was
still Bungaree's gait. When I met him, I took
off my hat and saluted him. He peered into
my face for a few seconds, and, then,
recollecting me, offered me his hand, shook mine
rather coldly, and said rapidly, "Oh! well, what
can I do for you? I very busy now; no time
to spare; talk to you some other day; yes, yes,
good morning." This change in Bungaree,
which I could not at the moment account for,
pained me. I thought that amidst all the
changes, observable in every direction, Bungaree
at least would have remained himself. However,
notwithstanding his Majesty's remark that he
wished to get rid of me, he entered into
conversation, and presently, in his old confidential
way, said, "Len' it a sisspence." I complied,
and requesting him to call upon me soon,
at my mother's house, bade him "good-day."
He was then alone. None of his Queens
were with him; but I had no time to ask him
many questions, for I was on my way to
Government House, to pay my respects to Sir
George Gipps, and deliver a packet which
had been entrusted to my care. Whether his
excellency had not looked at my card, or
whether he had mistaken me for some one else,
I don't know; but I had scarcely made my bow,
when I was greeted with, "Oh! well? what
can I do for you? I am very busy just now,
have not a single moment to spare; talk to you
some other day. Yes, yes, I am now off to the
council. Good morning."

I had never seen Sir George before, but I
instantly recognised my altered King Bungaree.
This anecdote, a few weeks afterwards, reached
Sir George's ears through a lady, and he was
not a little amused by it.

On the following day, at ten A.M., his Majesty
King Bungaree was announced. I received
him in the back yard; for my mother would
never allow him to come into the house. He
was, on this occasion, accompanied by two
of his Queens, "Broomstick," and "Pincher."
Having "lent" the king and each of the Queens
a "glass o' rum," I proceeded to interrogate
him.

"Well, King Bungaree," I said, "where's
'Onion,' and the other Queens, 'Boatman,' and
'Askabout?'"

"Onion's dead," he replied. "Two
emigrant mans get drunk and kill her with
brickbat on top o' rocks. Boatman's got leg
broke and can't walk, and Askabout stop along
with her on North Shore, to len' it bread and
drink o' water."

"Who lent you that coat?"

"One Colonel up in Barrack-square."

"Has not the Governor lent you a coat?"

"Not yet; but he len' it by-and-by. At
present he only len' it 'Very busy now; yes,
yes; good morning.'"

"What do you think of Sir George Gipps?"

"When that my frien' Doctor Lang write a
book about all the gubbernors, he one day met
it in Domain, and len' it half a dump. He
then laugh and say, 'King Bungaree, what
you think of Gubbernor Bourke?' and I say to
him, 'Stop a bit. He no yet leave the colney.
When he go, then I tell you, master.' Gubbernor
Gipps only just come. Stop till he go; then I
speak."

Doctor Lang, in his admirable work, the
History of New South Wales, relates this in his
preface or concluding chapter, observing that
he took King Bungaree's hint, and reserved Sir
Richard Bourke's administration for some future
edition.

When I was a boy, Bungaree had been a
matter of mere amusement to me. Now I