burnt; and to give a loose to vengeance,
because it is the only thing which has flourished
with me. I once had kindly—O! most kindly
—feelings; tears, prayers, and deeds of eager
devotion for the suffering. I thought that I
was born to win my way to success. I
believed that a high heart and a clean hand
could and would snatch a blessing. But men
and a froward luck dragged me down. Except
from two honest rude creatures, out of my
own family I never received aid or kindness.
The world would have me a devil, and it is
done. But David Macleod what are you?
Men say you are religious? Is it religion to
take a man's all for a few hundred pounds,
when that all may shortly become a prince's
heritage? Look round on this lordly scene.
Who made this place?"

"God Almighty," said the confounded
Squatter.

"God and Tom Scott," said the stranger.
"God Almighty raised these hills, spread these
valleys, planted these everlasting forests,
vaulted over them yon glittering sky; and,
wherefore? That a canting hypocrite; a
craven, demure, and ruthless oppressor might
revel in them, and vaunt himself in them?
Tom Scott built these houses, planted these
gardens, enclosed these pastures, and raised
these flocks and herds from a mere handful
to ten thousand, and was that, think you, of
no more value than the deficient balance of a
paltry hundred or two of pounds?"

The man raised slowly and steadily the
long gun from the ground, and lowering its
muzzle towards the stupified Squatter, said,
"David Macleod, one little crooking of my
fore-finger, and you are in eternity. In vain
will then be all your scraped-up riches, in
vain all these lordly woods and hills, in vain
all your flocks and herds, your houses, and
your parchments. But I lower once more my
piece, give one more moment, and say —
Justice!"

"As God lives, Tom Scott," cried the
terrified man, his eyes almost starting from his
head, and his hand put out as if to avert the
threatened deed, "I will do all.—Help! help!
in God's name, help! Murder!" shouted
he, suddenly from the side-window descrying
three horsemen approaching the house; and,
darting to the window, which was open, gave
one more frantic cry, and sank senseless on
the floor.

When the Squatter came to himself again,
he cried, "Stop him! hold him! for worlds,
don't let him escape!"

"Let who escape?" asked two or three
voices, amongst which was that of the cook.

"Who! why, Tom Scott, to be sure. He
was here this minute; where is he?" and he
rushed out to see. Nobody had seen Tom
Scott. Since the day that he disappeared,
he had never been seen here nor anywhere
near here. His fame, as a merciless pursuer
of the natives, was unrivalled; but no one
could say that he had seen him anywhere.

David Macleod returned hastily to town.
The glory and beauty of his giant estate
had departed. The image of Tom Scott
reigned there in intensest horror. East and
west, throughout the colony, millions of acres
spread their bosoms to the sun, with all their
hills, woods, waters, and living things, which
owned him for master, but David Macleod
never approached them; for Tom Scott might
be there.

Years went on; wealth rolled in upon him
in torrents; and, as if fortune would visit
him and his brethren of squatterdom with
her wildest wonders, it was discovered that
the colony was one great region of gold.
Gold was everywhere. Its earth, its rocks,
its rivers, were all teeming with gold!
Thousands upon thousands rushed from all the
ends of the earth to snatch a share in the
marvellous booty; and suddenly the value of
the squatters' possessions jumped up five and
tenfold in value. No longer were boiling-
down establishments requisite to keep down
the astonishing increase of the flocks, and
yield some tolerable return from them. No
longer bubbled those huge cauldrons into
which the mangled limbs of whole hecatombs
of sheep were thrown daily and hourly, and
seethed down for their fat. There were
hundreds of thousands of hungry mouths in the
colony, ready to consume, and of hands full
of strangely-gathered gold to pay liberally for
them.

These wanted, moreover, bullocks and
horses to draw up provisions to the swarming
diggings, and carry down the gold, —to
prosecute the incessant traffic in the towns,
and the speeding of escorts and eager
passengers. Sheep advanced from five shillings
to twenty-five per head; oxen from twenty
shillings to twenty pounds; horses from five
pounds to seventy and a hundred. The
amazed squatters stood astonished at their
own affluence. Theirs, indeed, was the Midas
touch which turned all to gold, without its
ancient penalty. David Macleod calculated
up his gains. He was now, in one quarter
or another, master of fifty thousand sheep,
ten thousand cattle, and two thousand
horses. In stock on his stations he was
actually worth more than a quarter of a
million! What a metamorphosis! Can that
great senator ever have been the little dirty
boy of the Gallowgate kennel? Never in
the world's history had there been so fabulous
a period, out-fabling all fable. The
great patriarchs roaming on the vast plains
of Mesopotamia, with their immense flocks,
multiplied and prospered by the express
favour of heaven, can present no parallel of
fortune with the squatters of Victoria; for
they had no diggings to consume their
mutton at sixpence per pound. Each party
held their estates on equally cheap tenure,
that is, just about for nothing; but the
balance of profit was infinitely in favour of
the patriarchs of the antipodes.