The Old Man, to whom I have had to refer casually, was Robert Charlton, Esq., J.P., but more popularly known at Jericho and by the squattocracy of the district as Bob Charlton. Bob Charlton was of a rare species. Endowed with the instincts and capabilities of your fox-hunting, port-loving, hard-headed and large-hearted English squire, he had, in days of yore, paid a visit to the colony with a few thousands to invest-supposing he cared to invest them, and not take them and himself back to England. He had been afforded the opportunity to spend his money on one of the richest squattages ever on the eve of ruin through mismanagement; and, having invested in it, he was so lucky as to be able to secure the services of McTavish to take care of it for him. Good care McTavish had taken; he saw that his patron knew little enough of sheep-farming, and he had guided him as the impetuous horse is restrained by the light finger of the experienced rider. Piece by piece the superintending authority crept away from Charlton to McTavish, and finally the duties of the former became confined to merely revisional work. Fortunately, McTavish was as honest as he was skilful; he desired only a good salary, and he had his desire. So Bob Charlton shot, fished, hunted, and visited the neighbouring seigneurs and friends in Jericho. He was usually driven to the latter place, and on his return was generally awakened with a flushed face and watery eyes, and alighted in the court-yard somewhat heavily. There was a little of the vinous, too, in the paternal solicitude with which he would assist Flora Charlton to alight; and in his chivalrous manner of conducting her within. Truth to tell, Bob loved his glass of wine; and no man knew a good glass of wine better. At the head of his own hospitable board; at a roystering dinnerparty in Jericho, or at his club "in town," none could play the genial host or the jovial companion with better spirit.

Flora Charlton, Bob's eldest, sunny faced, bright-eyed Flora, with the luxuriance of jetty tresses, the port of a princess, and the winning grace of a lady, was the belle not only of the station, but of the entire district. People on the station had prophesied very little good of Flora's childish quick temper and flightiness; and dismal auguries were based upon her hoydenish enjoyment of boyish

exercises, the temper with which she defied alike governess and parent (Bob's wife had left him a widower when Flora was nine years of age), and the daring with which she would mount a half-broken horse, or venture upon journeys of exploration and discovery, uncounselled and unaccompanied.

Bob, however, was no admirer of the Australian style unadorned. At the age of thirteen, therefore, Flora was removed to a "young lady's academy" at Melbourne; and there she remained, with few intermissions, for the ensuing three or four years. When she returned, subdued, but not starched; educated, but not made artificial-a pure Australian diamond, cut and polished-she became at once the reigning beauty of those parts. Certes, there was much to charm in Flora Charlton; whether mounted upon a thoroughbred, dashing, with flushed cheeks and streaming ringlets, through timber; presiding at the homestead with a quiet grace and dignity that would have befitted the presidency over a much more numerous household, in a much more fashionable precinct; leading the dance in the few balls given at Jericho on race-days or the like; or visiting the wives of her father's retainers, listening, with exemplary fortitude, to Mrs. Mole's domestic recitals, or the Presbyterianisms of the worthy Mrs. Buist, a bony Scotchwoman "fra the Hielans."

In the neighbourhood of Charlton Grange there were but two marriageable men in her own sphere of life-Frank Farryher, the youngest of the firm of Farryher Brothers, and the manager for that firm of Wychitella Run; and Tom McDermott, of Hossulton. These men were the antitheses of each other. Frank Farryher, the Adonis of the district, had been city bred and trained. Nobody else in that part of the country had been known to sport daily such white waistcoats, such neckties, or such gloves; to swear at a defaulting labourer or an obstinate animal with such easy grace; to smoke such cigars; or to read French periodicals and romances. For all that, Frank, while affecting to despise any kind of exertion, and to be of a laissez faire sort of disposition, had a shrewd head for business, and a thorough comprehension of his duties-well masked, however, under a veil of diffidence.