semicircular shape, and forming one of the
inlets of the magnificent harbour of Port
Jackson spread out before the lawn, its dark
blue waters laving the milk-white sand, some
bl:trk rocks in the distance (known as "the
Bottle and Glass") standing out sufficiently
far to cause the spray to beat continually
over them, the north shore plainly visible
across the broad expanse of water,—travel
where you will the eye will not rest upon
any spot more favoured by Nature than that
exquisite valley which was called Vaucluse,
in consequence of its resemblance in one or
two respects to the Vallis Clausus where
Petrarch, in the words of Lord Byron,

       With his melodious tears gave himself to fame.

To put his crime out of the question, Sir
Henry was a man of very great taste, and
an Irish gentleman of the old school.

"What was his crime?" I asked, in my
then ignorance of this colonial celebrity.

"He carried off by force and violence a
young lady with whom he was passionately
in love, and who had several times refused
his offers of marriage. The penalty of the
offence was transportation for life. I am not
quite sure that he was not, in the first instance,
sentenced to be hanged. My husband,
in common with many officers, was partial to
Hayes; who could be very witty and amusing,
and who, whatever may have been his habits
in early life, led a most temperate and
exemplary life in the colony of New South
Wales. He was surrounded by every comfort
that money could purchase, and he was
always glad to see persons of whom he was
in the habit of speaking as "those of my own
order." The only defect in his manner was,
that his air was somewhat too patronising.

That Hayes was perfectly mad on the
crime that led to his banishment, there could
not be the slightest question; but upon all
other points no one could be more rational.
That his statements with reference to his
case were untrue, no one who read the report
of his trial could doubt for a single moment;
but that Hayes himself believed his own version
to be the correct one, was equally certain. I
never saw Sir Henry but twice, and I must
do him the justice to say, that, on neither
occasion, did he speak of his case. He was
by far too well-bred to think of making the
faintest allusion to it. By the way, he did
once say in my presence, on the occasion of
his killing a fly with the handle of a carving-fork
"That's how I should like to crush
John Philpot Curran;" but upon my
husband remarking to him, "My wife never
heard of that person, Hayes;" Sir Henry
made me a very low bow, begged me a
million pardons, and instantly changed the
theme.

"Why was he so inveterate with regard
to Mr. Curran?" I inquired.

"It was Mr. Curran, my husband told
me, who prosecuted Sir Henry Hayes, was
the old lady's reply. I told you that I only
saw Sir Henry twice, she continued. On
the first occasion he called at our house, in a
state of great nervous excitement. After
being introduced to me, and speaking for a
while on various subjects, he thus addressed
my husband: "My dear Major, for the last
eleven days I have suffered agonies of mind,
and have been praying, from early dawn to
dusky night, almost without intermission, to
my favourite saint, Saint Patrick. But, he
seems to take no more notice of me, nor of my
prayers, than if I were some wretched thief
in a road-gang, with manacles on my leg, and
a stone-breaking hammer in my hand."

"What is the matter, that you require the
aid of Saint Patrick?" said my husband.

"The matter!" replied Sir Henry. "You
are aware, perhaps, that that part of the
country where I live literally swarms with
venomous serpents: there are black snakes,
brown snakes, grey snakes, yellow snakes,
diamond snakes, carpet snakes—in short,
every species of snake in the known world.
Now, so long as they confined themselves to
the lawn and the garden, I did not so much
mind. It was bad enough to have them
there, but, with caution, I could avoid them.
The brutes, however, have lately taken to
invade the house. We have killed them in
the verandah, and in every room, including
the kitchen. Now, it was in consequence of
this, that I addressed my prayers to Saint
Patrick; and suggested that he might
whisper to them to go into other people's
houses, and not mine, in order to gratify
their curiosity concerning the habits of
civilised man: but to no purpose. Last
night I found a gentleman, six feet long, and
as black as a coal, coiled up on my white
counterpane; and another of the same
dimensions underneath the bed. However,
I am determined they shall not banish me
from that abode, but that I will banish
them; or, at all events, keep them at a proper
distance—say a distance of at least fifty yards
from any part of the house. And what I
want you to do, my dear Major, is to render
me some assistance in the matter."

"What do you propose doing?" my
husband inquired.

"You know perfectly well, my excellent
friend," continued Sir Henry, "that Saint
Patrick so managed matters that no snake
could ever live on or near Irish soil. The
very smell of it is more than enough for
them. It will be a matter of time and of
money; but to carry out my project I am
most firmly resolved."

"What do you propose doing? and how
can I aid you?" said the Major.

"Hark ye! " returned Sir Henry. "I
intend to import to this country about five
hundred tons of genuine Irish bog, which
shall be dug from the estate of a friend of
mine. It shall come out in large biscuit
barrels. I shall then have a trench dug