She Novelist.

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume XI, Issue 262, 2 December 1876, Page 1

She Novelist.

'■ •• • FOLLOWING DOWN THE LAVA. By Donald Cameron. In a little hut, the walls of clay, the roof of bark, iu what we will call Wishing Gully, a lone spot, lived, or rather dragged out an existence, John Palmer and his daughter Polly. They were a good distance from' any dwelling, but as their situation was high, they could see the suburbs of Sandhurst and the great engines puffing and puffing out smoke, like huge giants enjoying a quiet " draw." It was .ah arid place Avhere the h„t was built, the only water near being a muddy dam containing a fluid about the consistency of putty. In summer time, not a bit of green was to be found except the few flower bushes, aud homely vegetables reared in the bit of garden by Polly. You can always tell where a woman is: in the dreariest wilderness her natural taste will blossorh into flowers, be they humble marigolds or costly dahlias. Polly and her father were the sole occupants of the hut. Ah ! I forgot there was another, old Nan, the goat. The age of this Nan no one J_n_dy_*-l*._r -ircu.rable heard spoke for her antiquity. The diggers said she was old enough in iniquity. Nan was black, and she obtained the soubriquet of the Oneeyed. Devil, because she was deficient of the left optic, which she lost in a fray with a . Chinaman, and that her general characteristics were supposed- to accord with those of the much maligned individual whose feet are said to be like hers, cloven. Nan had thoroughly earned her name. There was no thievery to which she was not up, as all those who had gardens knew to their cost. If Mrs. Tregartha went out in the afternoon, after her " man" had gone to work on the shift, to have a chat with Mrs. Trevallion, depend on it, when she returned her choicest herbs and shrubs would have vanished. It was all set down to Nan, who, strange to say, never was caught in the act. She was, however, seen lurking in the neighbourhood of a reporter's garden, and a bitter paragraph about the depredations of goats appeared in the "'Tiser" next day, in which the powers of the Legislature were invoked against all four-legged thieves.. Nan didn't care a straw. She used to stand quietly blinking her eyes at the door when her enemies passed, secure in the protection of Polly. It is true that she was the favourite sport of all around, who sought every opportunity to lay her low, but she appeared to lead a charmed life, and always escaped, not without marks of the battles she had gone through besides the lost eye, such as an ear missing, hair deficient in several places, and a born broken. Hence it was that Nan was ! always allowed to sleep in the hut— her life wonld not be safe five minutes out at night. Nan was affectionately cherished hy the inmates. She it was whose milk was one of the few luxuries poor Polly enjoyed, and Nan's family had not only furnished many a toothsome meal, but occasionally replenished the exchequer. So that no wonder Nan was doated on, and in her turn she was attached to her master and mistress, but particularly to Polly. How easily animals find out kind gentle • souls ! And Nan, though the greatest tliief that ever walked on four legs — having no mercy on hard-working diggers, whose loaves she abstracted out of their huts while they were at work, nor even caring a rap for poor little Tom or Nelly when they were eating their "piece," but would boldly knock them over and run off with it — Nan would never touch a bit of anything in their own garden, although times were ever so hard. ' She's got as much sense as a human creature, and a deuced sight more," John would say. There were also two other dumb inhabitants— Sissy, the cat, and Nip, the terrier— which lived a kind of life of internecine war, but were always united when any enemies or depredators from the otfier gullies attempted to poach on their preserves. Generally, however, their quarrelling was more bounce than anything else, like that of husband and wife ; they would lie on either side of the fire and spit and snarl, but matters seldom went so far as a downright outbreak. A word from Polly eoon put them right. Polly was the angel of that household, tlie light of that home. Tender, fragile as the rose-leaf, she had been left to begin battling with the world at ten years of age, by the death of her mother, who was buried away at the White Hills Cemetery, and whose grave, though humble and unmarked by a stone, was always kept neat

and covered with flowers by Polly. After her mother's death Polly led a lonely life, seldom seeing anyone except her father, to whom she made a good housekeeper, cooking his poor meals daintily, and keeping the house like an old woman. The child had much of mature age in her faoe, and she never laughed, although lier smiles were ready always, and were sweet beyond expression. His child's smile, when he returned from work, was tlie only gleam of light in the world for John. Polly was a strange girl, she seemed uot of this world. Her high mystic brow appeared full of matured thought. Her thin, worn face, beautiful nevertheless., and white and red, was lit up by two great blue eyes, that seemed looking up into the infinitude of the blue sky, and going beyond, beyond, far away. She loved the spring time, when the lonely gully became covered with grass, out of which sprang all the wonderful flowers with which the hills around Sandhurst abound — the red creepers, the snow-white star-like sprays of bushes, the yellow and red heath, the blue and purple orchids, the wealth of golden wattle blossom — all conveyed ideas to her mind that were beyond utterance, ideas of light, and happiness, and hope, but not the hope of this perishing world. In these quiet spring days she would sit reading in the old Bible the Revelations, and now and then pausing, she would gaze up into the deep blue sky, and sing — " There is a happy land, Far, far away, Wliere saints in glory stand, Bright, bright as day !" And, in summer nights, too, when the glorious moon rose in splendour in the east, and bathed the world in her mystic light, pencilling each delicate spray in elegant silhouette on the turf, toning down what appeared glaring and discordant in the sunlight, Polly enjoyed the scene, and, as she sat by the door, her hand in her father's, she drank in the dream-like ideas called up by the moonlit panorama, the mystery/ the otherworld sensations. People looked at Polly, and said she was a " rum girl, not at all like other girls." Kind, motherly, Mrs. Sweetblossom, at the general store, would say, " The lass ain't for this world, I'm sure ; she's too good." Polly was a favourite with all, but she was too poor to have many friends. John Palmer was not a lucky man. He had- never been.. He lost a fortune at home, because his uncle, who altered his mind at the last moment, became insensible before he could sign his name to the codicil, bequeathing all his property to John. When he came to the diggings, he got a claim in Eaglehawk Gully, the richest on Bendiigo, and, when he sunk his shaft, mistook a false bottom for the real one, and, finding the prospect poor, started off to another rush ; a man jumped the claim, and, staking a few feet, got on the right bottom, and netted £6000 out of it that week. John took up a claim on a new reef, since celebrated, sunk a shaft, but had to abandon it. and the result was that another man took it up-^no other than the famous Ballerstedt — who got a ton of gold out of it. That was the sort of man John was. He had been compelled, for some years back, to work as a miner, and not being a very strong man, did not have much employment, so that the little hut was often poorly provided with food and clothing for its inmates, who would have got on but indifferently were it not for Nan. 1 But to make matters worse, John got " a craze. He had followed the croppings of the famous reef on which he was near making a fortune, and he was as sure as sure could be that it passed directly under the old hut. He spent all the money he had on a lease, and began to sink a shaft. This work he kept at constantly, until Polly's appealing looks and the state of the house would make him go in search of something to do. Polly was never much of an eater, but how often and often did she go with only a bit of bread a whole day, so that her father would have enough. He was working hard, she argued to her unselfish self, and she was doing nothing, so she required little ; and John was blind to all this. His craze would not let him see anything. I don't know how they would have got on if it were not for kind Mrs. Sweetblossom. That dear woman — coarse, ugly, heavy, and commonplace to sight though she appeared, had in her ungainly body one of the truest hearts that ever 'beat in the bosom of a woman. In the book of the remembrances of the Lord, her name is posted in many entries. Although the times then were hard, and much " tic" had to be given, she never would see anyone wanting. She had a sort of intuitive knowledge of when John had the craze, and would soundly rate poor Polly for not coming for lier usual supply of flour, tea, and sugar. Her heart used to twinge again when she noticed the poor girl's thin and worn appearance on these occasions. She used to say — "Why don't you come oftener, Polly dear i You haven't gone to another store, have you ?" "Oh! no, Mrs. Sweetblossom," Polly would stutter out, "but— but we must be saving, for father's out of work." " Go 'long with you," Mrs. Sweetblossom would say, " as if you'd not pay every shilling, child, when he gets work. I'm giving little presents to my good customers this week, and so, Polly, here's a pot or salmon for you." And thus did tlie good soul try to smoothen Polly's thorny path through lite. Airs, bweetblossom was not a churchgomg woman ; she was not in the odour ot sanctity like her rival, Mrs. Piuchnose, who was a pillar of the Wesleyan Church being a teacher of the Sabbath-class, and having all the business of that denomination—but that couldn't influence her religion, of course— and was even suspected of occasionally taking a drop too much ; but she did no one harm, and she had a heart that was worth mountains of gold. Mrs. Piuchnose sold out the customers who were in her debt, though the wife were on her confinement bed, and the husband out of work, and then she would go away and worship the Lord — the devil I ought to say. The destinies of the two wero different, and, judging from the opinion of the world, Mrs. Piuchnose was a saint supreme, and Mrs. Sweetblossom a sinner of the biggest. Mrs. Pinchnosc lived in the odour of sanctity and made money, and bought houses, and now lives retired in St. Kilda, an " example." Mrs. Sweetblossom struggled on until she was ruined by her son, who turned out bad, and at last

died poor from apoplexy, the doctors said, but the neighbours set it down to drink. Now, which of these women have a place in the register of God's elect? I know not how the reader will judge, but this I will say, that Mrs. Sweetblossom is an angel, and that when Mrs. Pinchnose follows her into the dark valley, if the door of Paradise is not shut sharp against her, why, I'm a long way out. These are my sentiments. John kept pegging away at the shaft whenever he was out of work, which was often, but, as he had no mate, his progress was slow. Polly helped to pull up the buckets of stuff, till the depth became too great, aud John would not let her. He reckoned, however, that at a depth of forty feet, he would intersect the vein that led to the golden reef below. He would then sink on the underlie, that is, follow the vein down, and this would lead him on to the reef. Provisions were getting short, and Nan's last youngster had to be sacrificed, when one day Polly, who av.is sitting on the doorstep, saw her father ascend in a great hurry, and run towards her. She ran to meet him, and anxiously asked if the shaft had fallen in ? " Come here, Polly," said he, and led her over to the shaft. " Look at this," he continued, pointing to a thin Blice of stufr! like unctuous black clay. " Look at it, Polly — your fortune's made, you're a lady! That's the lava of the great Victoria reef, the backbone of Bendigo, the great gold vein. It's exactly like the lava I struck in that fatal claim on the hill which I deserted, for that mean Ballerstedt to go in and make his pile — curse him ! A few feet more and our fortune is made." He clasped her passionately to his heart. 0, could he not feel the change in her ? "He drive a carriage and pair !" cried John, wildly. "He flaunt about and look on me with contempt as I pass by. Why, his claim will be a mere bagatelle to mine ; I have 600 yards along the line ! Oh ! child, what a fortune is before you. The hut yonder will rise into a palace at the beck of the enchanter, gold ; your mean cottoii dress will become one of gorgeous silk ; a splendid carriage will be at your command, and Bendigo, aye; proud Melbourne, will bow the knee to you. Miss Mary Palmer, now unknown, of course, shall be sought by the highest in the land, and shall wed the brighest and best youth tbe world has produced. A happy home, a brilliant husband, a lovely wife ; children beautiful as the wattle-blossoms in spring, and an old man with a face bright as the sunshine of life can make it, by the fireside in winter, and in the garden on sunny days. Gold everywhere — bright, lustrous gold, potent magician, before whom eveiy head is abased, every knee bent. Oh ! my heart is fit to break with joy — joy for my darling, my Polly, dear, dear Polly." Father and daughter wept together, wept tears of joy. Polly believed her father, and while he descended again to begin the underlie shaft on the lava, she returned back to the house to see if she could not get a cheerful little meal ready. But there was little in the larder, so Bhe took her way down to Long Gully, to see what Mrs. Sweetblossom would say to the event. Her face fell, when in Mrs. Sweet-blossom's accustomed place behind the counter, she saw her son, a graceless fellow. She inquired where Mrs. Sweetblossom was. . "Gone to Melbourne, Miss," was the inebriated reply, for young Sweetblossom was rarely sober when he could get the run of the till. Polly's heart appeared to her to sink right down into her shoes. Still, when she thought about the cheeiless home, the scant food, she ventured, with a throbbing heart, to ask for credit. " Mrs. Sweetblossom always gives me the things," Polly stammered out ; " she knows we pay whenever we get it. I don't want much — a few pounds of flour, some sugar, some tea — " Polly stopped ; the expression of the young man's face made her clutch the counter for support. He went over to the little desk where the rough book was kept in which Mrs. Sweetblossom entered debts in her hieroglyphics. He looked solemn when he came back to the counter again. "We can't give you any more credit, Miss," said lie harshly. " You're already £14 into us, and you must yay a little ot.. Won't do, Miss, we're .nearly ruined with bad debts." " But Mrs. Sweetblossom would never object," Polly breathed out. " Father's struck the reef." Mr. Sweetblossom took no notice of her, but served other customers, and with a weary sigh the girl turned and went over to Mrs. Pinchnose's place, to prefer the same galling request. This she did to her assistant, a vinegary maiden cousin. Mrs: Pinchnose herself was at the drapery end of the counter, confabulating with a bevy of Wesleyan ladies about an intended love feast. " Oh ! it was a le-ovely sermon," said Mrs. Pinchnose, the whites of her eyes turned up to the ceiling ; " and that, dear Mr. Vampire, 'ow 'c did himpress on us that he that giveth to the poor giveth to the Lord. My 'eart, Mrs. Sniggle Sniggers, fairly broke when he described the poor and broken-hearted. He is a le-ovely man, full of grace." " He makes my soul go soarin', soarin', up to 'eaven," said Mrs. Sniggle Sniggers. " Wot's the price of that new cashermere ?" " Please, mum," said the assistant, " 'ere's a girl named Palmer, as wants to get some goods on credit." Mrs. Pinchnose adjusted her spectacles severely, and looked at Polly till the poor creature was ready to sink into the earth. "So you're John Palmer's daughter," said Mrs. Pinchnose. "He as deals with that wessel of wrath across the way, Mrs. Sweetblossom. Allow me to say, young girl, as I doesn't care for customers from over there. My shop's respectable, thank 'eaven, and as to her's — oh !" There was an Oh !" all round. " Yes, Mrs. Sniggle Sniggers," continued Mrs. Pinchnose, raising her voice, " you j see 'ow I'm ill-used. These people pays | their cash to that snare in the steps of tlie righteous, and when they've ruined themselves with her drink, why, they comes to me to get credit, and a lot of credit I'd get by the custom of sich. It's a hinsult, besides, and if I was carnal and 'ad not thrown oif the old man an' 'is deeds, I'd get excited and turn the girl out of doors without nothing. But grace enables us to stand a great deal, Mrs. Sniggle Sniggers, we grow charitable and meek of spirit when we've beeu born again, and peace 1 rests upon the soul. So my girl, I won't

uporaid you nor reproach you iu the spirit of the carnal and un regenerate, but give you this tract by llie blessed Samuel Sniffkins, upon the text, ' Blessed are they that give, for to them much shall be given. Take it, read it, and it may soften your hardened heart. If you feel the moving of grace, come to tlie prayer-meetiu' tonight at half -past seving, and taste of the manna that drops from the lips of the Kev. Mr. Vampire." " Mrs. Pinchnose, you're a saint, mum," cried the admiring Mrs. Sniggle Sniggers, "and I feel unworthy to be standing by you." " Mariar Jane," said Mrs. Pinchnose, solemnly, " don't talk like that, lest you exalt me in my own opinion, aud I have a grievous fall from the paths of salwation." Polly went out of the shop, the hot tears dropping down her cheeks, and slowly made home, with feet almost tooweak to carry her. After such rebuffs she could not go to the butcher, who was a hard, rough man. She rested at a deserted puddling mill, and sat on the hard clay and looked at the tract. She wondered whether Mrs. Sweetblossom was such a terrible sinner as Mrs. Pinchnose made out ; and whether she, herself, was so frightful a character. Polly was quite willing to think she was wicked herself — like all truly noble natures, she was humble and diffident — but she could not believe dear Mrs. Sweetblossom a great sinner. Glancing over the tract, which, like all publications of that class, was a j medley of scriptural quotations denunciatory of the wicked who would not support churches, missions to the benighted savages of Hokeypokey, &c, her eye caught a sentence the writer had lugged in — " Come unto me, ye that are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." These were the words of Jesus, and as the image which the reading of the Testament had giveu Polly of that most glorious of all characters arose in her mind — a meek, and mild, and loving face, going forth to all sufferers — the tears suffused her eyes, and she cried — " Oh ! Lord Jesus, dear Saviour, give me rest, peace, rest, rest, rest." The child's prayer was answered ! She prepared a humble supper for her father, and he ate of it heartily, all the time talking of the great things in store for her. He never noticed she did not eat. If he thought of it at all, he said to himself she had had a " piece" between meals, and besides, she had the run of the house. Little good that was ! After supper he got a candle, and went again to work till eleven o'clock. Polly had had nothing that day, and she had passed through great mental excitement. Yet she did not feel hungry. The mystic words of Jesus were sounding in her ears, pervading her whole soul, breathing peace unspeakable. The moon rose over the sombre forest, illumining the world with argent light. Dark as that world had her soul been before these words sounded in it, but now it was irradiated, never to be darkened again. • Days passed, and John worked incessantly on his underlie shaft, the lava widening out, and quartz coming in here and there, quartz of the right color, that made his heart leap with joy. The lava, it may be as well to explain, is a kind of clay that always accompanies gold-bearing reefs, going down by the side of them. The reef often tails out, or disappears, but the lava continues, going downwards, often thin as a thread ; but, nevertheless, the unerring guide to the bodies of stone below. It is the miners' compass, the clew to their labyrinth. Hence, when a reef is lost, the saying amongst miners is, " Follow down the' lava, aud you'll get the lode, richer than ever." Polly told her father, when they were reduced to a bit of bread, how the storekeepers refused credit. He got into a fearful passion. "They'll live to cringe in the dust to us, Polly," said he ; " the low hounds. In a day or so, to-night perhaps, I'll strike the reef, and then see if they'll refuse. Why, d them ! there was never such a sensation on Sandhurst before as will take place. Keep heart, Polly !" " Yes, father dear," sighed Polly, looking up in his face, with her large, trusting eyes. " I don't think of myself, only of you — you work so hard, and want food." " The hope is food for me," said the enthusiastic man. "Go you, Polly, to Mrs. Penwannet, and ask her for the loan of a big loaf, and a bit of salt meat, and some tea and sugar, and that'll do us till the gold is struck. Then, Polly, then : Oh ! won't it be glorious." And he caught her up and kissed her. Could he not feel, by the weight of the child, that something was wrong ? No ; his heart was fevered with the gold, his pulse beat too wildly to take notice. Polly went to Mrs. Penwannet, and got the loan, although very begrudgingly, and small in quantity, because Nan had lately been at her old games, and besides destroying some marigolds— the pride of Mrs. Penwamiet's heart, had disfigured her best cap, which had been on the fence to dry. It had been a lovely day— calm, mild, and bright, but not glaring. The sun had set in glory— pillars of crimson, purple, blue, and gold rose on each side of him as he entered into his rest. John ate his supper—the last of the borrowed bread and meat— in the doorway, and Polly sat by, gazing earnestly at the grandeur of the sunset. John looked at her, and his mind being at that moment iu a way free from the fever of gold, he was struck with her almost supernatural appearance. He had seen pictures of pale, thoughtful angels ; surely, never had he seen a living resemblance to them like his daughter. A cold shudder went through him as he noticed her ethereal frame, light enough almost to be blown away by a breath of air. " Polly," he said in a startled tone. "Yes, father dear," she replied, fixing her strange large eyes upon him. " Are you not well ?" asked he. " Oh ! quite well, father," she replied. " What were you thinking of, Polly ?" he said. "Of these wonderful colours in the west," said Polly, in a dreamy tone. "I've read, father, in the Revelations, about the new Jerusalem, whose gates are of jasper and pearl and all manner of precious stones, aud I was wondering if this was not something like it, some resemblance." Again a cold chill went to John's heart. Ihere was the magnificent sunset, the jewelled pillars leading up to the gate of gold into which the sun had disappeared, and there was his daughter, her spiritißil

face, with its large mournful eyes fixed on the west, flushed with the glow, resembling that of a rapt seraph's ! "Polly," said he, hastily, "this won't do. You must not think of such things. Ihere are glories in store for you in tin's world, of which you do not dream now. When I strike gold, Polly, love, your lot will be bright then : ' bright, bright as day, 1 as you sing yourself."., "But, father, isn't Heaven a better place than this .world?" asked Polly, quietly. " Yes, child, yes," he replied hastily ; " when we've fulfilled our destiny here it's a home for us. But don't talk so, child, go inside, or you'll catch cold. I'm almost certain to strike it to-night." And he went and got his candle, and cheerily prepared to go to work. " Father," said Polly. " Yes, dear," he said, somewhat peevishly, for the tone of. her voice was so sad, unearthly, and mournful, tliat it disturbed him in the fulness of his joyous expectancy. " Kiss mc," she simply said. "Tears, child?" he said. "This is wrong." " Don't speak harshly to me, father, j dear," she said, fixing her eyes on his. He clasped her to his breast and kissed and kissed her again. " Good-bye, father, I'm happy now." He went to work with a mind much unsettled by his daughter's words and ways. He wondered what was the matter with her. Her eyes, those great touching, eyes, troubled him, and from every oorner of | the shaft they looked at him. He got in a good shot towards ten o'clock, and went down to clear the fallen rock away and see if the long desired reef had been revealed, clambering on his hands and knees down the underlie, pushing aside the blocks of stone, in the murky atmosphere caused by the smoke, iu which his candle glimmered faintly. Suddenly a strange awe, a dread, a horror, came upon him ; then a deep pang passed through his heart, followed by a painful joy, such as those feel whose smiles and tears are mingled. Again he thought he saw Polly's mournful eyes gazing at him from the darkness ; again the words, " kiss me,-fa-ther," fell on his ears. Then it was all past, and he thought he heard in the faroff distance the sound of music, low and sweet. It might be the circus band, mellowed by the distance. Then his fever to get a look at the " face" grew, and he crept down. For a while he looked and saw nothing but the black line of the lava. Suddenly his eye struck the line at the side of the shaft ; by the side of the lava appeared the top of a creamy white stone, with blue veins. It was the top of the reef ! With his heart beating at high pressure, his tongue cleaving to the roof of his mouth, his eyes staring wildly, he reached the spot and clutched the stone which the shot had broken off. One glance was enough. It was the beautiful Victoria Reef stone, and in one of the blue veins glistened two patticles, set off by the cream-white of the quartz — one rich yellow gold, the other blue glittering galena ! j It was over ; the dream was a reality. | When John recovered his senses, for he had fainted, he sat for a few moments on a stone, his mind tumultuous with joy, pictures flashing through it of the grandeur that was to be his daughter's, the glory of the Palmers in Victoria, the joy, the ease, the plenty. Parties of pleasure, halls of dazzling light, youth and beauty, and Polly supreme amongst all. Such were John's visions as he sat in the gloom near tho potent magician, gold — for he had overturned the candle and put it out. "But why keep the discovery from the dear girl ?" he cried, and with nimble steps he went up the rough ladder. It was a lovely night. The moon was flooding the world with her soft light, and tree and hill appeared graceful and romantic. On high was the queen of heaven, like some godlike face looking out of the windows of paradise, to compassionate man. Longfellow's beautiful lines came into' John's mind as he gazed upon the tranquil and beautiful scene, more like a picture by Turner than an actual Australian landscape : — "The feverish day, Like a passion died away, And the night serene and still, Fell on village, vale, and hill. "Then the moon in all her pride, Like a spirit glorified, Filled and overflowed the night With revelations of her light." " I wonder Polly hasn't come to see me before this," said he to himself, as he made his way to the hut with light steps. The door was open ; there was no light. Had she gone to bed ? She had never done so before. He entered. Opposite the door was a small window, and through it the moonlight streamed, lighting up with silver glory the head of Polly, who appeared sleeping, her head resting on her hand. Her face was upturned and there was an expression of ecstasy in it that the moonlightdweltonlovingly. Foramoment the father gazed on the lovely picture in delight. No sculptor could throw such expression into marble, although her features seemed as if chiselled out of pure Parian, so motionless was she, so statuesque. At her feet lay Nan, silent and happy. " Polly." She answered not. " Wake, dearest," said the fond father. She did not stir. " I will wake her with a kiss," said he and he stepped over to her. Through the wild waste of Wishing Gully that night there echoed a terrible cry as of a strong man whose heart was broken, and as if it were the sound of the last chord snapping asunder. And in the hut all that night, while the moon glided calmly through the sky to her home in the west, thero was heard wailing and moaning, deep, deep, as of a strone; man in agony, and the words of the wailing were, " My child ! Oh, my child! Too late! Too late, accursed gold !" * "5 O ii <; *t Visitors to the Yarra Bend Lunatic ' Asylum, Melbourne, often wonder at the > curioua nwlnoss of an old white-haired man, almost a shadow in appearance, who is continually digging, being allowed, as he is harmless, to wander about and do what he likes. His sole talk is of " following down the lava." " It's a matter of certainty." he will say : "not a doubt of it, Polly, if I follow the lava down I must come on the Victoria Reef, and when I do, why, we'll be millionares. Don't loek so, Polly, you'll be the brightest in the land,

the admired of all — a hundred thousand for a dowry. Who said Polly was dead ? Ha ! ha ! Good indeed ! She's sleeping beau-: tifully in the moonlight ; don't she look lovely like a statue? Don't wake hen Poor Nan! how lovingly the dumb creature lies at her feet. I won't wake Polly • the picture will be spoiled. Sleep on, Polly, with the morning beams nestling in your hair, and I'll follow the lava down, down, til! I get the reef, the gold, the glory of the world 1 Sleep, Polly, sleep. 0 yes! she did sleep, too deep to be awakened. The morning afterPol ty's death the principal doctor in Sandhurst was thunderstruck by a wild figure that rushed into his breakfast room with a bit of quartz in his hand, and proifcred a mine of untold wealth to him if he could wake his daughter. He only wanted him to wake her, the sleep was so heavy on her. The doctor had the man taken up for a lunatic, and after finishing bis breakfast, went out quietly to Long Gully with the sergeant of police, aud poor Polly's remains were found in that hut, with the faithful Nan trying to wake her dead mistress by licking her hands and face, and rubbing against her. Polly was buried by the Government, and John was sent to the Yarra Bend, while poor Nan, now bereft of her friends, led a vagrant life in Wishing Gully, sheltering in the old hut, and bleating piteously at night for her lost friends. Bereft of her friends, she soon became a prey to her eneroles, who shot her reinorselessly. i The shrewd doctor, after the excitement was over, bethought hinvof the words of | the maniac, and had the lease taken up ! afresh; and floated a company to work the ground. On descending John's shaft they J found the cap of the reef, and sinking a good shaft the claim proved to be one of the most valuable in Victoria. Where poor John worked, friendless and alone, "following down the lava," a hundred men are now employed, and the throb of many engines and the clatter o£ many batteries are heard. Had Polly lived, she had been a queen of society now. But which lot was best? It was true she lost the pomp' and glory of earth, but did she . not gain admittance into the realms of joy and peace, and escape the thousand pains and sorrows of humanity, in exchange for the trumpery and gee-gaws of a wicked .and perishing world.