with, let alone dub up for taxes. I've written you a long letter, and if
you growl about the spelling and grammar I won't write to you any more,
so there, and you take my tip and don't write to mother on that flute any
more, for she won't take a bit of notice.

Yr loving brother,

Horace.

So! Mother had no pity for me, and the more I pleaded with her the more
determined she grew upon leaving me to suffer on, so I wrote to her no
more. However, I continued to correspond with grannie, and in one of her
letters she told me that Harry Beecham. (that was in February) was still
in Sydney settling his affairs; but when that was concluded he was going
to Queensland. He had put his case in the hands of squatters he had known
in his palmy days, and the first thing that turned up in managing or
overseeing he was to have; but for the present he had been offered the
charge of 1600 head of bullocks from a station up near the Gulf of
Carpentaria overland to Victoria. Uncle Jay-Jay was not home yet: he had
extended his tour to Hong Kong, and grannie was afraid he was spending
too much money, as in the face of the drought she had difficulty in
making both ends meet, and feared she would be compelled to go on the
banks. She grieved that I was not becoming more reconciled to my place.
It was dull, no doubt, but it would do my reputation no harm, whereas,
were I in a lively situation, there might be numerous temptations hard to
resist. Why did I not try to look at it in that way?

She sent a copy of the _Australasian_, which was a great treat to me, also
to the children, as they were quite ignorant of the commonest things in
life, and the advent of this illustrated paper was an event to be
recorded in the diary in capital letters. They clustered round me eagerly
to see the pictures. In this edition there chanced to be a page devoted
to the portraits of eleven Australian singers, and our eyes fell on
Madame Melba, who was in the middle. As what character she was dressed I
do not remember, but she looked magnificent. There was a crown upon her
beautiful head, the plentiful hair was worn flowing, and the shapely
bosom and arms exposed.

"Who's that?" they inquired.

"Madame Melba; did you ever hear her name?"

"Who's Madame Melba? What's she do? Is she a queen?"

"Yes, a queen, and a great queen of song;" and being inspired with great
admiration for our own Australian cantatrice, who was great among the
greatest prima-donnas of th