398 The Wreck. 



and I strongly recommend the curious reader to consult Lewis's 

 "■Victoria in 1853," a book containing an account of the manners 

 of a people and country which is faithful and true, but will probably, 

 by any one who has not witnessed the scenes which he describes, be 

 looked upon as an exaggerated romance. 



Still, coarse as may be the dress, and rough as may be the ex- 

 terior of the men under observation, there is all the frank hearty 

 manner of the real bushman about them 3 and as one watches them 

 one insensibly feels that although out of place in this rude spot, 

 there are men among the group whose manners would not disgrace 

 the best drawing-room in England. 



But there are two men sitting on a log together who deserve a 

 passing notice. The tight, well-knit, spare forms, the jack-boots, 

 and the long, heavy stock-whips wound round their bodies, all 

 bespeak the stock-rider, even were not their two horses standing 

 close by, tied up to a small honeysuckle. These two answer to the 

 names of Jack and George, and are evidently mates, bound by that 

 indissoluble tie which is perhaps nowhere felt so strongly as in the 

 bush. But, though sworn friends, there is little resemblance 

 between the two men. There is nothing very striking about the 

 appearance of Jact : he is a little, merry-looking fellow, with a 

 bright, twinkling eye, and evidently a ''light-hearted boss," one 

 who would confidently penetrate the wildest part of the colony on 

 his favourite stock-horse, encumbered with no other baggage save a 

 pair of hobbles, an opossum rug, his quart pot, a little tea, sugar, 

 flour, tobacco, and matches. He is an old hand, and evidently an 

 old stock-rider. The other is a man of altogether different stamp. 

 Far younger, muscular, and strongly built, it is nevertheless quite 

 clear that he has not the wear and tear of his mate j and as he 

 stoops down to pick up a coal to light his short, black pipe, the 

 fitful blaze of the fire lights up a countenance in which intellect 

 and good-nature struggle for the mastery — and I think, take it all 

 in all, I never looked upon a much handsomer or finer face. There 

 was something about the very air and appearance of this young man 

 which bespoke good breeding, although he was not a whit less 



