ls, whose furs
always command the highest price. When these animals have not been
disturbed in their resorts for some years they are comparatively
tame, and it is not difficult to approach them. Great numbers of the
young ones are sometimes found on the rocks, and if pushed into the
water they will presently come out again, scramble back on to the
rocks, and begin crying for their dams. But the old seals, when
frequently disturbed, become shy, and, on the first alarm, take to
the water. The flesh of the young seals is good to eat, and seamen
who have been cast away on the islands have been sometimes saved from
starvation by eating it.

I once made the acquaintance of an old sealer. He had formerly been
very sensitive on the point of honour; would resent an insult as
promptly as any knight-errant; but by making an idol of his honour
his life had been a grievous burden to him. And he was not even a
gentleman, and never had been one. He was known only as "Jack."

It was in the year 1854, when I had been cast ashore in Corio Bay by
a gale of hostile fortune, and had taken refuge for a while at the
Buck's Head Hotel, then kept by a man named McKenzie. One evening
after tea I was talking to a carpenter at the back door, who was
lamenting his want of timber. He had not brought a sufficient supply
from Geelong to complete his contract, which was to construct some
benches for a Presbyterian Church. Jack was standing near listening
to the conversation.

"What kind of timber do you want?" he said. "There is a lot of
planks down there in the yard, and if you'll be outside about eleven
o'clock, I'll chuck over as many as you want."

The contractor hesitated. "Whose planks are they?" he asked.

"I don't know whose they are, and I don't care," replied Jack. "Say
the word, and you can have them, if you like."

The contractor made no reply, at least in words, to this generous
offer. It is not every man that has a friend like Jack; many men
will steal from you, but very few will steal for you, and when such a
one is found he deserves his reward.

We adjourned to the bar parlour, and Jack had a glass of brandy, for
which he did not pay. There was among the company a man from Adelaide,
a learned mineralogist, who commenced a dissertation on the origin of
gold. He was most insufferable; would talk about nothing but
science. Darwin wrote a book about "The Origin of Species," and it
has been observed that the origin