vice, which being new, a
lively imagination might mistake for silver. Hot spirits, for those
desirous of imbibing them, followed our substantial repast; but fatigue
and the dreary weather had so completely damped all disposition to
conviviality, that a very short space of time found all fast asleep
except the three unfortunates on the watch, which was relieved every
two hours.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 8.--I awoke rather early this morning, not
feeling over-comfortable from having slept in my clothes all night,
which it is necessary to do on the journey, so as never to be
unprepared for any emergency. A small corner of my brother's tent had
been partitioned off for my BED-ROOM; it was quite dark, so my first
act on waking was to push aside one of the blankets, still wet,
which had been my roof during the night, and thus admit air and light
into my apartments. Having made my toilette--after a fashion--I
joined my companions on the watch, who were deep in the mysteries of
preparing something eatable for breakfast. I discovered that their
efforts were concentrated on the formation of a damper, which seemed to
give them no little difficulty. A damper is the legitimate, and, in
fact, only bread of the bush, and should be made solely of flour and
water, well mixed and kneaded into a cake, as large as you like, but
not more than two inches in thickness, and then placed among the hot
ashes to bake. If well-made, it is very sweet and a good substitute for
bread. The rain had, however, spoiled our ashes, the dough would
neither rise nor brown, so in despair we mixed a fresh batch of flour
and water, and having fried some rashers of fat bacon till they were
nearly melted, we poured the batter into the pan and let it fry till
done. This impromptu dish gave general satisfaction and was pronounced
a cross between a pancake and a heavy suet pudding.

Breakfast over, our temporary residences were pulled down, the
drays loaded, and our journey recommenced.

We soon reached the Deep Creek, and crossed by means of a punt, the
charges being the same as the one at Keilor. Near here is a station
belonging to Mr. Ryleigh, which is a happy specimen of a squatter's
home--everything being managed in a superior manner. The house itself
is erected on a rise and surrounded by an extensive garden, vinery and
orchard, all well stocked and kept; some beautifully enclosed paddocks
reach to the Creek, and give an English park-like appearance to the
whol