e of them had not set eyes on the "old country," as it is
affectionately called in our colonies, for many years. Some there were
who had gone out as boys, and were returning bald-headed and
grey-bearded men. There were others who had been out only a few years,
but who, happening to be on the spot when the goldfields were
discovered, had suddenly made fortunes. They were returning to surprise
and gladden the hearts of those who, perchance, had sent them off to
seek their fortunes with the sad feeling that there was little chance of
seeing them again in this world.

There were ladies, also, who had gone out to the distant land with an
unbelieving, almost despairing, hope of finding employment for those
talents which they had, alas! found to be of but little value at home.
These were, in some cases, returning with lucky gold-diggers and
blooming children to their native land. In other cases they were merely
about to visit home to induce some parent or sister, perhaps, to venture
out to the land of gold.

But all, whether young or old, male or female, gentle or simple, were
merry and glad of heart that night as they clustered on the bulwarks of
the "Trident," and gazed at the longed-for and much loved shore. There
was no distinction of ranks now. The cabin and the 'tween-deck
passengers mingled together and tried to relieve the feelings of their
hearts by exchanging words of courtesy and goodwill.

The stormy and threatening aspect of the sky had no terrors now for the
passengers on board the "Trident." For weeks and months they had tossed
on the bosom of the great deep. They were familiar with the varied
moods of wind and wave; they had faced the dangers of the sea so often
that they scarce believed that any real dangers could exist. The very
children had become sailors; they were precociously weather-wise, and
rather fond of being tossed on the waves than otherwise. The prospect
of a storm no longer filled them with alarm, as it used to do at the
beginning of the voyage, for they had encountered many storms and
weathered them all. Yes, they had experienced all the dangers of the
sea, but it was reserved for that night--that last night of the long,
long voyage--to teach them the dangers of the land; the terrors of a
storm in narrow waters, among shallows and on a lee-shore,--and to
convince them that for man there is no real safety whatever in this
life, save, only, in the favour and love of God.

There were