short gleam of sunshine, a regular fall of
prices of agricultural produce. The landlords
spoke fair; they gave us an act of parliament
that they said would keep corn at 80s., though
even that would scarcely do for some of us;
but we dined and drank toasts, hurrahed, and
went home satisfied. Meat, wool, and corn all
went down; it was quite plain, that if such times
continued, at the same rents, break we all must.
Those that had lived fast with small capital,
began to go first. But you know, sir, a farmer
dies as hard as a fox or a dingoe; he can't
shift his pivot so easy as a tradesman or a
manufacturer; and he takes a longer time to
break, for the landlord who's the chief
creditor, will wait a long time, knowing he
can come in at last and sweep away all. Well,
I could have managed to make a good fight with
my old farm, by cutting down expenses, wearing
an old coat, putting my hand to the plough;
but how was I to save money for the children?
Besides, the other farm, with so much money
sunk on it, was a regular dead weight; and
my father being gone, I was obliged to leave
much to a bailiff.

"Things got very black indeed; and although
they talked very loud in parliament and at
county meetings, I could not see any real
chance of good prices.

"Well, one day who should come up with
a letter of introduction from Mr. Lambton
but a sun-burnt foreign-looking gentleman,
'from New South Wales,' a Mr. M——, wanting
to buy a lot of good short-horns, both
bulls and heifers, thorough-bred horses and
Cleveland bays, and implements, to take out;
and likewise to hire a good farm-bailiff, and a
man to take care of his horses out. He was
sent to me, as one likely to tell him where to
get the best of every thing. I rode about
with him, sold him some stock, and naturally
had a good deal of talk with him, was
surprised to find that Botany Bay, the only place
we'd ever heard of, was in New South Wales.
When he found by my grumbling that I was
not quite satisfied, he offered to use his
influence if I would go out with my family
and some labourers, to get me a grant of land
where there would be scarcely a rent, and no
taxes, if I would sail in the ship with his
stock. He said I could, he was sure, make
my fortune in ten years, and a lot more about
what a country it was for cattle and sheep.
Well, I didn't take much heed of it at first;
I did not like the idea of leaving Old England,
or taking my wife and family to Botany Bay.
But I told all to my wife, and she did not say
much, but she listened hard.

"The Lord be thanked, my father never
made a gentleman of me; I took my turn at
all farming work, from driving to ploughing,
from cutting and plashing hedges to building
a wheat-stack; likewise, I went into our forge
and learned to make a set of horse-shoes and
put them on, as well as to sharpen and mend
all implements.

"I brought up my own lads the same
way, and I found the use of it, and so have
they.

"Well, as things got worse, I cut down all I
could, worked early and late, and lived as hard
nearly as my grandfather; and my wife never
grumbled, or even looked sad, when I was by,
but I used to see the tears running down her
cheeks as she lay asleep, for we both knew
there would be but one end, unless some great
change took place in rents and price of corn,
and that end was ruin. We were both thinking
of what Mr. Lambton's friend had offered; but
we said nothing to each other, for at that time
people in the country looked on emigration
and transportation as much the same thing,
and Australia was thought a country of thieves
and savages.

"It was a few days after I had paid my rent,
I had tried to get a reduction, but the landlords
of the second farm were only trustees,
and said they could not do it; for the third
year, the rent had come out of my capital, and
I was sitting smoking a pipe, and wondering
what was to become of us all, and whether
Botany Bay was as good a place for a farmer
as what Mr. M——had told me, when the
post-boy comes up on his pony, on his way to
the castle, and whistles as having a letter.
He was a new post-man (Bob Spurrier, that
other lad, enlisted in the dragoons and was
killed at Waterloo;) the lasses were all in the
dairy, so I stept out myself. Says he, 'Is
there a woman here by the name of Molly
Birkenshaw, 'cause I've a letter for her, and
it's four and elevenpence, a letter from furrin
parts, I take it.'

"When he said this you might have knocked
me down with a feather. I knew in a moment
where it was from,—the very place I had been
thinking on that minute. So I stared at him
a bit, and then I said, quite slow, 'There was
a wench o' that name, but she's dead, but
you can give me the letter, for her lads are
here.'

"'Aye,' says he, 'but you must pay for it.'

"With that I snatches the letter from him,
and throws him a crown piece, and off he
goes, and I stood looking on it as if I was in a
dream. There it was, plain enough, 'Molly
Birkenshaw, Gnarledoak Farm, Lingscroft,
near Durham, England,' and stamped 'Sydney,
New South Wales, Ship-letter.' Chris
Birkenshaw came in soon after with a team, and
we broke it to him gently. The poor lad
cried above a bit. Well, we opened the letter,
and, sure enough, it was from his father. I
can show it you, for I keep it safe locked up;
I call that letter my title-deed, for without it
I should never have wonned here.

"He told how he had written several times,
but his letters never came to hand, as he
guessed himself. It seemed he had done well,
having got assigned to a master that treated
him well—he being valuable from his
knowledge of cattle and horses; and that after a few
years he had got his pardon for shooting a
Bushranger. About this, he said (I'll show