considerable astonishment; and then
asked, "was the business an extensive one?"

"Pretty well, pretty well," was the reply. "She brewed every morning
and night, but she'd only one _dray_ and that was a _tray_, and she'd a
famous large teapot for a vat; we never used hops nor sent our barley to
be malted, what little we used we gave to the fowls; and we never felt
the want of porter, or pale ale, or bitter beer."

"It is a pity that more people are not of your mother's mind," said Mrs
Franklin, laughing.

"So it is indeed; but I shouldn't, perhaps, have said anything about it,
only the teapot you've got in your hand now was my dear old mother's
brewery, and that set me thinking and talking about it."

It was not their host's fault, nor Mr John Randolph's, who acted as
joint entertainer, if their guests did not make a hearty tea. The meal
concluded, Mr Tankardew requested his young friend to bring out some of
his curiosities. These greatly interested all the party--especially
Mrs Franklin and Mary, who were delighted with the traveller's
liveliness and intelligence.

"Show our friends some of your sketches," said the old man. These were
produced, and were principally in water colours, evidently being the
work of a master's hand. As he turned to a rather un-English scene, the
young artist sighed and said, "I have some very sad remembrances
connected with that sketch."

"Pray let us have them," said Mr Tankardew. Mr Randolph complied, and
proceeded: "This is an Australian sketch: you see those curious-looking
trees, they are blue and red gums: there is the wattle, too, with its
almond-scented flowers, and the native lilac. That cottage in the
foreground was put up by an enterprising colonist, who went out from
England some fifteen years ago; you see how lovely its situation is with
its background of hills. I was out late one evening with a young
companion, and we were rather jaded with walking, when we came upon this
cottage. We stood upon no ceremony, but marched in and craved
hospitality, which no one in the bush ever dreamt of refusing. We found
the whole family at supper: the father had died about a year before of
consumption, after he had fenced in his three acres and built his house,
and planted vineyard and peach orchard. There were sheep, too, with a
black fellow for a shepherd, and a stock yard with some fine bullocks in
it; altogether, it was a tidy little property, and a blooming family to
mana