460 THE GEEAT THIRST LAND. 



firm who first established a respectable line of con- 

 veyances between Melbourne and Ballarat. Here they 

 have accomplished the same purpose, and in reward 

 carry the mails and treasure. 



Six good horses are in front of us. "With Mr. Balfour 

 and numerous other friends I shake hands for the last 

 time, and precisely at nine the horn sounds, the Kaffirs 

 let go the heads of the steeds, and the giant whip 

 delivers one of its musket-like reports, and we are off, 

 more than five hundred miles lying between us and the 

 diamond-crested blue waves of the Indian Ocean. 



Our drivers were both queer-looking fellows. The 

 senior looked like a Macao (near Canton) Portuguese, the 

 junior like a good specimen of the Kaffir. Both spoke 

 English, had many amusing anecdotes to narrate, were 

 very accommodating, and remarkably civil, to which 

 eulogium I may further add that they were most skilful 

 in all matters connected with their profession. 



But behind me are seated four characters, two are 

 German Jews, and two English Jews. They have all 

 made money, and are returning to their respective native 

 lands, brimful of good spirits, and, I fear, bad whiskey. 

 They sung well, and the repertoire of one or two was 

 extensive, but after the most pathetic song, the choicest 

 morceaux of all the latest operas, especially if we were 

 rushing up to one of the taverns where horses were 

 changed, with one accord all would break out in deep 

 bass voice with a chorus about never getting drunk any 

 more. The air to which it was chanted being that 

 of the march in Faust on Valentine's return, it will 

 easily be understood that the emphasis and " go " of 

 the Bacchanalian ditty were considerable. 



So sincere were they in this intention that as soon 



