s informed
that she was a Mrs. Purfoy, the widow of a whaling captain, and had
married one of her assigned servants, who had deserted her five years
ago, as soon as he obtained his freedom. A word or two at dinner set me
thinking. She had received some English papers, and, accounting for her
pre-occupied manner, grimly said, "I think I have news of my husband."
I should not like to be in Carr's shoes if she has news of him! I don't
think she would suffer indignity calmly. After all, what business is it
of mine? I was beguiled into taking more wine at dinner than I needed.
Confessor, do you hear me? But I will not allow myself to be carried
away. You grin, you fat Familiar! So may I, but I shall be eaten with
remorse tomorrow.

March 3rd.--A place called Jerrilang, where I have a head and heartache.
"One that hath let go himself from the hold and stay of reason, and lies
open to the mercy of all temptations."

March 20th.--Sydney. At Captain Frere's.--Seventeen days since I have
opened you, beloved and detested companion of mine. I have more than
half a mind to never open you again! To read you is to recall to myself
all I would most willingly forget; yet not to read you would be to
forget all that which I should for my sins remember.

The last week has made a new man of me. I am no longer morose,
despairing, and bitter, but genial, and on good terms with fortune. It
is strange that accident should have induced me to stay a week under the
same roof with that vision of brightness which has haunted me so long.
A meeting in the street, an introduction, an invitation--the thing is
done.

The circumstances which form our fortunes are certainly curious things.
I had thought never again to meet the bright young face to which I
felt so strange an attraction--and lo! here it is smiling on me daily.
Captain Frere should be a happy man. Yet there is a skeleton in this
house also. That young wife, by nature so lovable and so mirthful, ought
not to have the sadness on her face that twice to-day has clouded it.
He seems a passionate and boorish creature, this wonderful convict
disciplinarian. His convicts--poor devils--are doubtless disciplined
enough. Charming little Sylvia, with your quaint wit and weird beauty,
he is not good enough for you--and yet it was a love match.

March 21st.--I have read family prayers every night since I have been
here--my black coat and white tie gave me the natural pre-eminence in
such matters--and