dead boon companions crack the old jokes,
sing the old songs, tell the old stories, till
we WAKE into the kingdom of the Possible;
and, ah me! the eye turns to a vacant chair,
a faded miniature, a lock of soft hair in
crumpled tissue paper, a broken toy; while
the mind's vision recurs to a green mound,
and a half effaced stone.

In the regions of the Impossible there
is a population separate, apart, peculiar;
possible nowhere but in a land of
impossibilities. Monstrous phantasies in semi-
human shape, horrible creations, deformed
giants, dwarfs with the heads of beasts;
shapeless phantoms, hideous life such as the
Ancient Mariner saw on the rotting deep.
Such things pursue us through these regions
with grinning fangs, and poisonous breath;
kneel on our chests; wind their sharp talons
in our hair; gnaw at our throats with horrid
yells. And, apart from the every day scenes
of every day life brought to the reductio ad
absurdum in the Kingdom of Impossibilities,
we tarry betimes in chambers of horrors, in
howling deserts, in icy caverns, in lakes of
fire, in pits of unutterable darkness. Miserable
men are they who are frequent travellers
through these districts of the Impossible
kingdom. They may say with the guilty
Thane

   "——Better be with the dead
     Whom we to gain our place have sent to peace,
     Than on the torture of the mind to lie
      In restless ecstacy."

If you would leave such countries
unexplored, lead virtuous lives, take abundant
exercise, be temperate (in the true sense of
the word: not choosing in what, but in everything),
and take no man's wrong to bed with
thee—no, not for one single night.

GENTLEMEN AND BULLOCKS.

A YOUNG fellow of high connexions,
educated at Sandhurst, and having subsequently
got his commission in one of the "crack"
cavalry regiments (Lancers or Hussars, we
decline to say which), became rapidly
inaugurated in all the ways of fashionable London
life. He cantered in the Parks, lounged about
the Clubs; the Opera and Almacks were his,
with their songs, and dances, and winning
smiles. He hunted, he shot, he raced, he
gamed, he drank, and " all that," until one
morning his father sent for him. He had been
allowed five hundred a year, besides his pay,
and he had been living at the rate of five
thousand—as near as it could be calculated.
What his father said was to this effect:
"Arthur, you're going to the devil, and I
must stop you. Sell out directly, sir, and
leave the country for three years. I'll pay
your debts here, and allow you just enough
to live. Learn to do something for yourself;
and come back in your right senses." So, the
young cornet sold his commission, and sailed
for Australia.

Not intending to go to the Diggings, and
hearing that Sydney was a far nicer place
to reside in than dust-driving Melbourne
(" which nobody can deny, deny "), he landed
at that place, and after a short stay to
recover so long a voyage, he rode up into the
bush some hundred miles. He was a pretty
good judge of a horse, and had something in
his head that way. Horses brought high
prices in Melbourne, and if he could get them
over land there, it might be " doing something
for himself," as his father had recommended.

At East Maitland, about a hundred and fifty
miles from Sydney, he chanced to fall in with a
young fellow about his own age; and, after
what they considered " mature deliberation,"
they agreed to purchase not horses, but four
hundred head of bullocks, engage a bullock-
driver to help in the work, and drive them
over land to Melbourne. The distance by a
direct route, and using roads, would not
exceed five or six hundred miles; but, as they
would have to go winding and zig-zagging
and crossing hills and swamps and fields and
creeks in order to find constant food and water
for the cattle, the distance would not be far
short of nine hundred, or a thousand miles.
They purchased the bullocks, engaged a
regular bullock-driver (the driving of these
horned gentry, whether loose or yoked, being
a special art, needing considerable practice),
and off they started.

Besides the four hundred bullocks, they had
nine horses, and a dray. Three of the horses
they rode, three were attached to the dray, and
the remaining three they drove loose in the
rear of the bullocks, on the flank, or as they
liked to go. The dray was laden with some
bags of oats for the horses, provisions for
three men, a change of outer clothing, two
changes of under clothing, blankets, spare
harness, cordage, hobbles, two double-barrelled
guns, a rifle, and a few tools—such as wood-
axes, knives, a spade, hammer, and nails.

Day after day, through the solitudes of the
bush, pleasingly varied at times by miles of
bog, or leagues of swamp, amidst which they
had to sleep, or get such rest in the night as
they could, our two young gentlemen
accommodated themselves to studying the
uncouth mysteries of " stock-driving;" aiding
and assisting their professor elect in all
his countless exigencies and requirements.
Our cornet, who was the principal proprietor
of all these moving horns, was scarcely one-
and- twenty, and, moreover, looked still
younger than he was. His friend Wentworth
was about twenty-five, of fair complexion,
and apparently of no great strength. The
bullock-driver was a rough, sun-browned,
brawny, bearded old colonial and bush-man.
He did not conceal his contempt for the
capacities of his gentlemen companions, nor
his opinion of the fate that awaited them.
He told them, in his abrupt, gruff, jocular