o bodily pains in the fiercer ones of
the mind, and always dwelling upon his position--quite alone in England,
with father, mother, and sisters at the other side of the world, at a
time, too, when it might take a year for a letter sent to bring back its
answer; so that it was getting far on toward the early dawn when he
ceased thinking about the far-away land of the convict and kangaroo, and
went off fast asleep.

CHAPTER THREE.

A STARTLER.

Constant dropping will wear a stone, says the old proverb; and if you
doubt it, go and look at some step where the rain has dripped from
gutter or eave, and see what a nice little hollow is worn. The constant
dropping of unsavoury words wears the mind too; and these remarks and
banterings about Australia and its convict life in the early days of the
century began to have their effect upon Nic Braydon.

He was a good deal younger when his father, an eminent physician in
London, awoke to the fact that he had been curing other people at his
own expense, that he had worked and studied and been anxious over
patients in his dingy house in Finsbury till he was completely broken in
health; and he knew enough of his own nature to be aware that, if he
kept on as he was, he would in a year or two be a confirmed invalid, if
he were still living. In other words, he had worn the steel spring of
life till it had grown thin in some places, and rusted and eaten away in
others for want of use.

Then he said to himself like a wise man, "I advise others and neglect
myself. I must be my own physician now."

He knew perfectly what he ought to do--take to some open-air life in a
healthy country, where his avocations would give him plenty of outdoor
exercise; and just at that time he met the newly appointed, governor of
the penal colony of Australia at dinner. He heard a good deal about the
place, went home and read, and inquired more; then, striking while the
lion was hot, he sold his practice, house, and furniture, provided all
that he could think of as necessaries, communicated with the government,
and, after placing his son Dominic, then aged ten, at the Friary with
Dr Dunham, he sailed with his wife and two daughters for the far-off
land.

Now, Nic's notions about all this had grown a little hazy, while the
teasings of his companions grew keener and sharper day by day, and
mastered the facts; so that at last he had often found himself wondering
whether there was any truth in his scho