by its hooped handle on the elve of his pick,
cut a striking figure as he strode along. His
tall and graceful form, his elastic step, bid
those who followed him to expect a face of
equally fresh and handsome character to turn
upon them as they passed; and there was
an evident feeling of surprise manifested in
the grave looks of the passers-by, at the really
handsome but careworn features of the young
man. Handsome brown hair beneath his
ruddy wide-awake, and a short, rather golden-
hued beard, ought to have belonged to a
youthfully cheerful face, but they shaded fine
features on which there lay a sickly hue, and
a settled gloom.

George Widdrington was seated on a fallen
tree by the wayside, on the evening of the
third day of his journey. He was thinking
whether he should there pitch his little tent
for the night, or make another step onward.
The country was become hilly, and increasingly
toilsome for the traveller. Green
ranges thinly scattered with trees, rose finely
at the feet of still more lofty and thickly
wooded heights; and his eyes rested on the
scenery with a pleasure which strongly
tempted him to stop there for the night.
While these thoughts were passing through
his mind, a couple of equestrians appeared
rounding the road. The one was an elderly
gentleman, the other a young lady of striking
figure, and in a fashionable habit and riding-
hat. The lady was mounted on a remarkably
handsome horse, and came slowly on,
conversing with the elderly gentleman in a voice
which excited, by its musical and cultivated
tones, the wonder of our traveller. "Do
these deserts," he said to himself, "send forth
apparitions like these?"

As the strangers passed, they both gazed
earnestly at George, as if they saw more
than an ordinary digger in his appearance.
He involuntarily raised his hat to the lady
who rode nearest to him, and she returned
the courtesy by a graceful inclination of the
head and a pleasant smile. But George
Widdrington followed the lady with a fixed
regard that partook of no little astonishment.
What a lovely, sensible face; and
what a strong likeness to Ellen Mowbray!
The form was taller, the face of a more
mature character; there was a wide difference,
and yet a most wonderful resemblance.
It was Ellen and it was not: but who could
it be having any so kindred a look in this
far-off world? George was lost in astonishment
and greatly excited, and while his eyes
were still fixed on the strange vision, he saw
her speak to her companion. They stopped
their horses, and the gentleman came back.

There was a remarkable mildness and
gentleness in his appearance, and addressing
George, evidently as a gentleman, he said:

"You are bound for Omeo, probably?"

"Yes," replied George.

"The night is coming on," said the
stranger, " and the roads beyond here are
very steep. Had you not better stay here?
My hut is just on the hill there"—pointing
to a white house, not far off, that stood
boldly overlooking the country.

"Thank you," replied George, smiling,
"but I carry my house with me," touching
his swag.

"But I think mine is better," rejoined the
amiable old gentleman, and it is much at
your service. The night, I think, will be
stormy. The birds are nocking in crowds
down from the mountains, and that tells of
wild weather in the hills."

"You are very kind, sir," said George,
whose own curiosity drew him vigorously to
learn something more of the lady. "I will
gratefully accept your hospitality."

"That is right," said the gentleman,
heartily. "You will see the track above,"
and he rode on.

George followed, full of strange thoughts
and feelings, and wonderfully struck, when
he reached the level of the range on which
the station stood, at the view of the country
around. Above and before him ascended
lofty piles of hills, dark with forests and
bold with projecting foreland and retiring
coves. Below lay a vast country and boundless
breadth of dark roads, and near at hand
green and swelling fields, having a soft yet
bold beauty and a verdure sprinkled with
graceful trees, as if human cultivation and
taste had been at work there, instead of the
spirit of nature, which alone it was.

As he drew near the house, he saw that it
was embellished by a large garden, in which
apple-trees hung with their autumnal crop
in the most prodigal profusion, in such
abundance that they were obliged to be
propped to prevent the branches being torn
off by their load. In front, seats were
placed on turf under the trees, and everywhere
there were proofs that people of superior
taste lived there, who had ideas beyond
mere squatting. George took his way to the
apartment where casual callers of the digger
class were generally entertained, and
deposited his load on the floor. But the master
of the house speedily appeared, and
requested him to accompany him to his own
sitting-room, first offering him an adjoining
bed-room to wash in.

On entering the sitting-room, which likewise
presented many instances in its furnishing
of the same superior style of living as was
obvious without, he was presented to the
young lady he had lately seen, and who,
having put off her riding-dress, was busy
preparing tea, which was on the table.

The likeness to Ellen Mowbray was not
now so striking, and yet there was a likeness,
in expression as well as feature. But
her form was taller and more slender, and
she could not be less than six or seven-and-
twenty years of age. She advanced as her
father introduced George, saying, "Here is
our guest," with the most affable and yet