"

Nevertheless, reader, as we wish _you_ to hear that passage, we will
make Bax read on.

"My mate, Harry Benton, is an old schoolfellow, whom I met with
accidentally in Melbourne. We joined at once, and have been together
ever since. I hope that nothing may occur to part us. You would like
him, Tommy. You've no idea what a fine, gentle, lion-like fellow he
is, with a face like a true, bold man in expression, and like a
beautiful woman in form. I'm not up to pen-and-ink description,
Tommy, but I think you'll understand me when I say he's got a splendid
figure-head, a strong frame, and a warm heart.

"Poor fellow, he has had much sorrow since he came out here. He is a
widower, and brought out his little daughter with him, an only child,
whose sweet face was once like sunshine in our tent. Not long ago
this pretty flower of the desert sickened, drooped, and died, with her
fair head on her father's bosom. For a long time afterwards Harry was
inconsolable; but he took to reading the Bible, and the effect of that
has been wonderful. We read it regularly every night together, and no
one can tell what comfort we have in it, for I too have had sorrow of
a kind which you could not well understand, unless I were to go into
an elaborate explanation. I believe that both of us can say, in the
words of King David, `It was good for me that I was afflicted.'

"I should like _very_ much that you and he might meet. Perhaps you
may one of these days! But, to go on with my account of our life and
doings here."

(It was at this point that Bax continued to read the letter aloud.)

"The weather is tremendously warm. It is now (10th January) the
height of summer, and the sun is unbearable; quite as hot as in India,
I am told; especially when the hot winds blow. Among other evils, we
are tormented with thousands of fleas. Harry stands them worse than I
do," ("untrue!" interrupted Harry), "but their cousins the flies are,
if possible, even more exasperating. They resemble our own house
flies in appearance--would that they were equally harmless! Myriads
of millions don't express their numbers more than ten expresses the
number of the stars. They are the most persevering brutes you ever
saw. They creep into your eyes, run up your nose, and plunge into
your mouth. Nothing will shake them off, and the mean despicable
creatures take special advantage of us