a much greater figure in the new country than
Batman of the Indented Head, sailed coolly
up the bay, and planted his standard on a
rising ground at its head, and near the mouth
of a pleasant river. Here, disregarding the
aboriginal claims of Batman, he built the
first hut, opened the first inn, ploughed up
the first ground, issued the first newspaper
a manuscript one—and became the founder,
if not of the colony, as he yet styles himself,
the undoubted founder of Melbourne. The
Messrs. Henty, a year or more before,
had established themselves as the first
settlers at Portland Bay, Batman had
established himself at Indented Head, but neither
of these were to become the capital of the
new El Dorada; Melbourne was to be its
Rome, and John Fawkner its Romulus.

Of the strifes and rivalries of the new
pastoral invaders,—how John Batman came
indignantly and sate himself down face to
face with the equally indignant but
imperturbable Fawkner, on that pleasant round
hill still called Batman's Hill; how the
British government, claiming to have a much
better title to the land than the natives, the
all-prevailing one of

     He shall take who has the power,
     And he shall keep who can,

disallowed Batman's purchase from the wild
tribes; how Batman dwindled and Fawkner
grew, till he became, and remains to this day,
a conspicuous member of the legislative council,
and has seen his settlement expand in
twenty years from a knot of six individuals
to a city of ninety thousand
inhabitants;—all these wonders are to be found
written at length in the chronicles of
Victoria.

Amongst the tribes of adventurers who
followed in the wake of Fawkner and Batman
as circumstances permitted, we shall
select one group, and follow it as descriptive
of the fortunes of the many. The group
consisted of three men; a tall, active young
fellow of not more than thirty years of age,
accompanied by two sturdy, rough-looking
louts of considerably maturer years. Tom
Scott, the leader of the party, had the air of
a clever young farmer. He was full six feet
in height, of a fair, fresh-coloured
complexion, with brown hair, and a brown
somewhat thin beard, kept short but unshaven.
His face was inclined to the oval, his nose
good and straight, his eye clear and intelligent,
his frame muscular, but remarkably
light and active. He was quick in his
movements, decisive in his manner, and seemed
to possess the most absolute influence over
the two heavy but resolute-looking fellows
who accompanied him. Tom Scott was
mounted on a leanish, wiry black mare, and
wore one of those stout cabbage-tree hats
resembling straw, which were already
exported from Sydney, a shooting-coat of coarse
grey cloth, and stout leather gaiters, all
somewhat dashed by exposure to weather
and the woods. Before him, rolled up tight,
he carried a blanket to wrap himself at
night, and his two companions bore on their
backs a similar roll, with sundry tins, axes,
and knives hanging from their belts. Every
man carried his gun, that of Tom Scott being
slung on his back, while a brace of large
pistols showed themselves at his side.

These men drove before them what would
there be called a little flock of six hundred
sheep. They had made the whole cargo of
one ship, some eight or ten of which vessels
were bringing over from thirty to forty
thousand a year. Our friend Tom Scott had
therefore no expectation of finding a free
pasture near the coast. He had, indeed,
made an exploratory trip beforehand; and
following the great stream of pastoral
immigration which flowed westward, had found a
rich, fine country, but already occupied by
numbers of people, who were wrangling and
even fighting about encroachments on each
other's claims and boundaries. Tom Scott,
therefore, resolved to steer northward, in
which direction boundless wilds seemed to
invite him. But, in truth, his sheep were in
no hurry; probably they had not found
much store of provender on ship-board, for
both they and Tom's mare began voraciously
to devour the grass of the green slopes
where now run the busy streets of Bourke,
Swanston, and Collins, displaying their gay
shops, townhall, banks, newspaper-offices, and
churches, raised on ground as costly as if it
were of solid gold.

But all then was open forest, fresh and pleasant.
It was the vernal month of September.
The ground was scattered with flowers, the grass
was luxuriant as in the meads of England. The
dusky gum-trees were but sparsely scattered
over hill and dale, giving to English eyes the
aspect of a park; and along the clear river
side grew masses of acacias, heavy with a
weight of vegetable gold, which spread their
fragrance over the whole scene. Our
Arcadian trio, seeing their flocks were well
employed in the green glades of the forest, threw
themselves down under a venerable red-gum
tree, drew forth provisions from their swags,
and one of the bushy-bearded comrades being
dispatched to Fawkner's public, a little bark
hut on the opposite hill, and the other down
to the river for supplies of brandy and water,
they were soon lolling in great comfort on
the sward, taking a leisurely survey of the
scenes around them, and considerably
approving of this first specimen of the new
country. This scene consisted of the cheerful
open forest slopes, trending downwards
towards the river, with wooded plains and
low hills beyond; and amongst the trees
around them the white gleam of scattered
tents. Here and there were open spaces
where the trees had been felled, and huts of
bark or slab, thatched with reed, or long
coarse grass from the river-banks, were