made some remark to my companion. The sound of my voice reached
the bullock-driver's ears; he looked up, and on seeing a lady, took his
pipe out of his mouth, his hat off his head, and forcing his beasts a
little aside, stood at their head to let us pass. I smiled and nodded,
receiving in return a perfect and profound bow, and the most melancholy
glance I have ever seen in human eyes. "Good gracious, F----," I cried,
when we had passed, "who is that man?" "That is Sir So-and-So's third
son," he replied: "they sent him out here without a shilling, five years
ago, and that is what he has come to: a working man, living with working
men. He looks heart-broken, poor fellow, doesn't he?" I, acting upon
impulse, as any woman would have done, turning back and rode up to him,
finding it very difficult to frame my pity and sympathy in coherent
words. "No thank you, ma'am," was all the answer I could get, in the
most refined, gentlemanly tone of voice: "I'm very well as I am. I
should only have the struggle all over again if I made any change now.
It is the truest kindness to leave me alone." He would not even shake
hands with me; so I rode back; discomfited, to hear from F---- that he
had made many attempts to befriend him, but without success. "In fact,"
concluded F----, with some embarrassment, "he drinks dreadfully, poor
fellow. Of course that is the secret of all his wretchedness, but I
believe despair drove him to it in the first instance."

I have also known an ex-dragoon officer working as a clerk in an
attorney's office at fifteen shillings a week, who lived like a
mechanic, and yet spake and stepped like his old self; one listened
involuntarily for the clink of the sabre and spur whenever he moved
across the room.

This has been a terrible digression, almost a social essay in fact; but
I have it so much at heart to dissuade fathers and mothers from sending
their sons so far away without any certainty of employment. Capitalists,
even small ones, do well in New Zealand: the labouring classes still
better; but there is no place yet for the educated gentleman without
money, and with hands unused to and unfit for manual labour and the
downward path is just as smooth and pleasant at first there, as anywhere
else.

Trew and Domville soon got over their momentary shyness, and answered my
inquiries about their families. Then I had a short talk with them, but
on the principle that it is "ill speaking to a fasting man," we agreed