speed with which all these plants are
destroyed; and if there were not myriads of
insect-labourers employed in clearing away
the decaying vegetable matter, those fertile
and smiling countries would soon become
pestilential for men and animals. However
inconvenient they may be, the termites are
undeniably useful, their depredations upon
the property and the works of man being
accidents resulting from their activity in
fulfilling the functions for which they were
created. Their instinct guiding them to
attack only those trees which have perished
or which have been felled, healthy and vigorous
trees which do not require to be pulverised
are never touched by these useful and
indefatigable destroyers.

AN ILLUSTRIOUS BRITISH EXILE.

A FEW years ago I made the acquaintance
of an elderly lady, whose husband, so
far back as 1799, held an official position,
both civil and military, in the colony of New
South Wales. Many anecdotes she told me of
celebrated characters who had, in the words
of one of them, "left their country for their
country's good." With most, if not with all,
of these celebrities the old lady had come in
contact personally.

"One morning," she began, "I was sitting
in my drawing-room with my two little
children, who are now middle-aged men
with large families, when a gentleman was
announced. I gave the order for his
admission; and on his entering the door of the
apartment, I rose from my chair, and greeted
him with a bow, which he returned in the
most graceful and courtly manner imaginable.
His dress was that of a man of fashion,
and his bearing that of a person who had
moved in the highest circles of society. A
vessel had arrived from England a few days
previously with passengers, and I fancied
that this gentleman was one of them. I
asked him to be seated. He took a chair,
opposite to me, and at once entered into
conversation, making the first topic the
extreme warmth of the day, and the second
the healthful appearance of my charming
children—as he was pleased to speak of them.
Apart from a mother liking to hear her
children praised, there was such a refinement
in the stranger's manner, such a seeming
sincerity in all he said, added to such a
marvellous neatness of expression, that I could
not help thinking he would form a very
valuable acquisition to our list of acquaintances,
provided he intended remaining in
Sydney, instead of settling in the interior of
the colony.

"I expressed my regret that the Major
(my husband) was from home; but I
mentioned that I expected him at one o'clock, at
which hour we took luncheon; and I further
expressed a hope that our visitor would
remain and partake of the meal. With a very
pretty smile (which I afterwards discovered
had more meaning in it than I was at the
time aware of), he feared he could not have
the pleasure of partaking of the hospitalities
of my table, but, with my permission, he
would wait till the appointed hour,—which
was then near at hand. Our conversation was
resumed; and presently he asked my little
ones to go to him. They obeyed at once,
albeit they were rather shy children. This
satisfied me that the stranger was a man of a
kind and gentle disposition. He took the
children, seated them on his knees, and
began to tell them a fairy story (evidently of
his own invention, and extemporised), to
which they listened with profound attention.
Indeed, I could not help being interested in
the story, so fanciful were the ideas, and so
poetical the language in which they were
expressed.

"The story ended, the stranger replaced
the children on the carpet, and approached
the table on which stood, in a porcelain vase,
a bouquet of flowers. These he admired,
and began a discourse on floriculture. I
listened with intense earnestness; so
profound were all his observations. We were
standing at the table for at least eight or ten
minutes; my boys hanging on to the skirt
of my dress, and every now and then
compelling me to beg of them to be silent.

"One o'clock came, but not the Major. I
received, however, a note from him, written
in pencil on a slip of paper. He would be
detained at Government House until half-
past two."

"Again I requested the fascinating stranger
to partake of luncheon, which was now on
table in the next room; and again, with the
same winning smile, he declined. As he was
about, as I thought, to depart, I extended
my hand: but, to my astonishment, he
stepped back, made a low bow, and declined
taking it.

"For a gentleman to have his hand
refused when he extends it to another is
embarrassing enough. But for a lady!
Who can possibly describe what were my
feelings? Had he been the heir to the
British throne, visiting that penal settlement
in disguise (and from the stranger's manners
and conversation he might have been that
illustrious personage), he could scarcely have,
under the circumstances, treated me in such
an extraordinary manner. I scarcely knew
what to think. Observing, as the stranger
must have done, the blood rush to my cheeks,
and being cognisant, evidently, of what was
passing through my mind, he spoke as
follows:

"' Madam, I am afraid you will never
forgive me the liberty I have taken already.
But the truth is, the passion suddenly stole
over me, and I could not resist the temptation
of satisfying myself that the skill which made
me so conspicuous in the mother country
still remained to me in this convict land.'