s north, or perhaps higher. I once went to a ball with as
free and easy, heart-whole a young fellow as any I know, and agreed
with him to stay half an hour, and then come away and play pool. In
twenty-five minutes by my watch, which keeps time like a ship's
chronometer, that man was in the tragic or cut-throat stage of the
passion with a pretty little thing of forty, a cattledealer's widow,
who stopped HIS pool-playing for a time, until she married the great
ironmonger in George Street. Romeo and Juliet's little matter was just
as sudden, and very Australian in many points. Only mind, that Romeo,
had he lived in Australia, instead of taking poison, would probably have

"Took to drinking ratafia, and thought of poor Miss Baily,"

for full twenty-four hours after the catastrophe.

At least such would have been the case in many instances, but not in
all. With some men these suddenly-conceived passions last their lives,
and, I should be inclined to say longer, were there not strong
authority against it.

But Sam? He saw the last twinkle of her white gown disappear, and then
leant back and tried to think. He could only say to himself, "By Jove,
I wonder if I can ever bring her to like me. I wish I had known she was
here; I'd have dressed myself better. She is a precious superior girl.
She might come to like me in time. Heigh ho!"

The idea of his having a rival, or of any third person stepping in
between him and the young lady to whom he had thrown his handkerchief,
never entered into his Sultanship's head. Also, when he came to think
about it, he really saw no reason why she should not be brought to
think well of him. "As well me as another," said he to himself; "that's
where it is. She must marry somebody, you know!"

Why was she gone so long? He begins to doubt whether he has not after
all been asleep and dreaming. There she comes again, however, for the
arch under the creepers is darkened again, and he looks up with a
pleasant smile upon his face to greet her.

"God save us! What imp's trick is this?" There, in the porch, in the
bright sun, where she stood not an hour ago in all her beauty and
grace, stands a hideous, old savage, black as Tophet, grinning; showing
the sharp gap-teeth in her apish jaws, her lean legs shaking with old
age and rheumatism.

The colley shakes out her frill, and, raising the hair all down her
back, stands grinning and snarling, while her puppy barks pot-valiantly
between her legs.