the place where the whaleboat had been launched, after a voyage of 2,000 miles, they met with their greatest disappointment. Their companions were not there. The drays had failed to meet them, and the depôt was deserted.

The men lost heart now for the first time. The river suddenly rose, and for seventeen terrible days longer they rowed without energy-almost without hope-against a swift current. They They became terribly haggard, and at last the first man went mad, and showed the others the terrible fate in store for them, and forced them, in addition to their own gloomy thoughts, to listen to the raving of a lunatic. The mind of the chief himself became a little off its balance. With his noble simplicity he says:-"I became captious, and found "fault when there was no occasion, and "lost the equilibrium of my temper in "contemplating the condition of my companions.... No murmur, however, escaped them. Macleay preserved his good humour to the last."

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At Hamilton Plains, being still ninety miles from assistance by land, they abandoned the boat and took to the bush. It became necessary to send the two strongest men for assistance. Hopkinson and Mulholland were honoured by the selection, and the others remained camped. On the eighth day Sturt served out the last ounce of flour, and prepared

to move his foodless and exhausted men on the way towards assistance. Suddenly there was a shout, and they knew that aid was come one way or another. Hopkinson and Mulholland had found the drays; and then these noble fellows, disregarding their fearful condition, had hastened back with a few necessaries to their chief, to fall utterly exhausted on the ground before him, but to tell him with smiling faces that he was saved.

The two great successful river-adventures of this century are undoubtedly Sturt's discovery of the Murray and Speke's discovery of the source of the Nile. But Sturt's discovery has of course led to commercial results far greater than any which can come from that of Speke. The Murray, draining a basin nearly equal to that of the true Mississippi (omitting the Missouri and Arkansas basins) is now covered with steamboats, and flows through three splendid republics, whose presidents are nominated by the British Crown. No city stands on the Murray, in consequence of the unfortunate bar at the mouth, and so the dockyards required by the fleet of steamers are on Lake Victoria. But the beautiful city of Adelaide is but seventy miles off, and now, unless I am mistaken, connected with it by the Goolwa railway. And Charles Sturt has earned for himself the title of the father of Australian exploration.

CHAPTER XL.

"It's hard to ken what to say," said the Mistress, going to the window for the hundredth time, and looking out wistfully upon the sky which shone dazzling over the Holy Loch with the excessive pathetic brightness of exceptional sunshine. "I canna make out for my part if he's broken-hearted or no, and a word wrong just at a moment like this would be hard on the callant. It's a wonderful mercy it's such a bonnie day. That's aye a blessing both to the body and the mind."

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"Well, it's you that Colin takes after," said the farmer of Ramore, with an undertone of dissatisfaction; so there's no saying but what the weather may count for something. I've lost understanding for my part of a lad that gangs abroad for his health, and gets himself engaged to be married. In my days, when marriage came into a man's head, he went through with it, and there was an end of the subject. For my part, I dinna pretend to understand your newfangled ways."

"Eh, Colin, dinna be so unfeeling," said the Mistress, roused to remonstrance. "You were like to gang out of your mind about the marriage when you thought it was to be; and now you're ready to sneer at the poor laddie, as if he could help it. It's hard when his ain friends turn against him after the ingratitude he's met wi', and the disappointment he's had to bear."

"You may trust a woman for uphaudin' her son in such like nonsense," said big Colin. "The only man o'

sense among them that I can see was yon Mr. Meredith that took the lassie away. What the deevil had Colin to do with a wife, and him no a penny in his pouch? But in the meantime yonder's the steamboat, and I'm gaun down to

meet them. If I were you I would stop still here. You're no that strong,” said the farmer, looking upon his wife with a certain secret tenderness. "I would stop still at hame if I were you. It's aye the best welcome for a callant to see his mother at her ain door."

With which big Colin of Ramore strode downwards to the beach, where his sons were launching their own boat to meet the little steamer by which Colin was coming home. His wife looked after him with mingled feelings as he went down the brae. He had been a little hard upon Colin for these six months past, and had directed many a covert sarcasm at the young man who had gone so far out of the ordinary course as to seek health in Italy. The farmer did not believe in any son of his needing such an expedient; and, in proportion as it seemed unnecessary to his own vigorous strength, and ignorance of weakness, he took opportunity for jeers and jests which were to the mother's keen ears much less good-natured than they seemed to be. And then he had been very angry on the receipt of Colin's letter announcing his intended marriage, and it was with difficulty Mrs. Campbell had prevented her husband from sending in return such an answer as might have banished Colin for ever from his father's house. Now all these clouds had blown past, and no harm had come of them, and he was coming home as of old. His brothers were launching the boat on the beach, and his father had gone down to meet the stranger. The Mistress stood at her door, restraining her eagerness and anxiety as best she could, and obeying her husband's suggestion, as women do so often, by way of propitiating him, and bespeaking tenderness and forbearance for her boy. For indeed the old times had passed away, with all their natural family glad

ness, and union clouded by no sense of difference. Now it was a man of independent thoughts, with projects and pursuits of his own differing from theirs, and with a mind no doubt altered and matured by those advantages of travel which the Mistress regarded in her ignorance with a certain awe, who was coming back to Ramore. Colin had made so many changes, while so few had occurred at home; and even a bystander, less anxious than his mother, might have had reason to inquire and wonder how the matured and travelled son would look upon his unprogressive home.

It was now the end of September, though Colin had left Rome in May; but then his Snell Scholarship was intended to give him the advantage of travel, and specially that peculiar advantage of attendance at a German University which is so much prized in Scotland. He had accordingly passed the intervening months in a little German town, getting up the language and listening to lectures made doubly misty by imperfect understanding of the tongue. The process left Colin's theological ideas very much where it found them which is to say, in a state of general vagueness and uncertainty; but then he had always the advantage of being able to say that he had studied at Dickofptenberg. Lauderdale had left his friend after spending, not without satisfaction, his hundred pounds, and was happily re-established in the "honourable situation" which he had quitted on Colin's account; or, if not in that precise post, at least in a cognate appointment, the nature of which came to Colin's ears afterwards; and the young man was now returning home alone, to spend a little time with his family before he returned to his studies. The Mistress watched him land from the boat, with her heart beating so loudly in her ears that no other sound was audible; and Colin did not lose much time in ascending the brae where she stood awaiting him. "But you should not have left your father," Mrs. Campbell said, even in the height of her happi

ness.

"He's awfu' proud to see you home, Colin, my man!" Big Colin, however, was no way displeased in his own person by his son's desertion. He came up leisurely after him, not without a thrill of conscious satisfaction. The farmer was sufficiently disposed to scoff aloud at his son's improved looks, at his beard, and his dress, and all the little particulars which made a visible difference between the present Colin and the awkward country lad of two years ago; but in his heart he made involuntary comparisons, and privately concluded that the minister's son was far from being Colin's equal, and that even the heir and pride of the Duke would have little to boast of in presence of the farmer's son of Ramore. This-though big Colin would not for any earthly inducement have owned the sentimentmade him regard his son's actions and intentions unawares with eyes more lenient and gracious. No contemptible weakness of health or delicacy of appearance appeared in the sunburnt countenance, so unexpectedly garnished by a light-brown, crisp, abundant bearda beard of which, to tell the truth, Colin himself was rather proud, all the more as it had by rare fortune escaped that intensification of colour which is common to men of his complexion. The golden glitter which lighted up the great waves of brown hair over his forehead had not deepened into red on his chin, as it had done in Archie's young but vigorous whiskers. His complexion, though not so ruddy as his brother's, had the tone of perfect health and vigour, untouched by any shade of fatigue or weakness. He was not going to be the "delicate" member of the family, as the farmer had foreboded, with a strange mixture of contempt in his feelings; for, naturally, to be delicate included a certain weakness of mind as well as of body to the healthful dwellers in Ramore.

"You'll find but little to amuse you here after a' your travels," the farmer said. "We're aye busy about the beasts, Archie and me. I'll no say it's an elevating study, like yours; but it's

awfu' necessary in our occupation. For my part, I'm no above a kind o' pride in my cattle; and there's your mother, she's set her shoulder to the wheel and won a prize."

"Ay, Colin," said the Mistress, hastening to take up her part in the conversation, "it's aye grand to be doing something. And it's no' me but Gowans that's won the prize. She was aye a weel-conditioned creature, that it was a pleasure to have onything to do with; but there's plenty of time to speak about the beasts. You're sure you're weel and strong yourself, Colin, my man? for that's the first thing now we've got you hame."

"There doesna look much amiss with him," said the farmer, with an inarticulate growl. "Your mother's awfu' keen for somebody to pet and play wi'; but there's a time for a' thing; and a callant, even, though he's brought up for a minister, maun find out when he's a man."

"I should hope there was no doubt of that," said Colin. "I'm getting on for two-and-twenty, mother, and strong enough for anything. Thanks to Harry Frankland for a splendid holiday; and now I mean to settle down to work."

Here big Colin again interjected an inarticulate exclamation. "I ken little about your kind of work," said the discontented father; "but, if I were you, when I wanted a bit exercise I would take a hand at the plough, or somewise-like occupation, instead of picking fools out of canals-or even out of lochs, for that matter," he added, with a subdued thrill of pride. "Sir Thomas is aye awfu' civil when he comes here; and, as for that bonnie little creature that's aye with him, she comes chirping about the place with her fine English, as if she belonged to it. I never can make out what she and your mother have such long cracks about."

"Miss Frankland?" said Colin, with a bright look of interest. The Mistress had been so much startled by this unexpected speech of her husband, that she turned right round upon Colin with an anxious face, eager to know what

effect an intimation so sudden might have upon him. For the farmer's wife believed in true love and in first love with all her heart, and had never been able to divest herself of the idea that it was partly pique and disappointment in respect to Miss Matty which had driven her son into so hasty an engagement. "Is she still Miss Frankland?" continued the unsuspicious Colin. "I thought she would have been married by this time. She is a little witch," the young man said with a conscious smile" but I owe her a great many pleasant hours. She was always the life of Wodensbourne. Were they here this year?" he asked; and then another thought struck him. thought struck him. "Hollo! it's only September," said Colin; "I ought to ask, Are they here now?"

"Oh, ay, Colin, they're here now," said the Mistress, "and couldna be more your friends if you were one of the family. I'm no clear in my mind that thae two will ever be married. Νο that I ken of any obstacle-but, so far as I can see, a bright bonny creature like that, aye full of life and spirit, is nae match for the like of him."

"I do not see that," said the young man who once was Matty Frankland's worshipper. "She is very bright, as you say; but he is the more honest of the two. I used to be jealous of Harry Frankland," said Colin, laughing; "he seemed to have everything that was lacking to me; but I have changed my mind since then. One gets to believe in compensations," said the young man ; and he shut his hand softly where it rested on the table, as if he felt in it the tools which a dozen Harry Franklands could have made no use of. But this thought was but dimly intelligible to his hearers, to one of whom, at least, the word "jealous" was limited in its meaning; and, viewed in this light, the sentiment just expressed by Colin was hard to understand.

aye an awfu' marvel to me that chapter about Job getting other bairns to fill the place o' the first. I would rather have the dead loss and the vacant place," said the tender woman, with tears in her eyes, "than a' your compensations. One can never stand for another-it's awfu' infidelity to think it. If I canna have happiness, I'll be content with sorrow; but you're no to speak of compensations to me."

"No," said Colin, laying his hand caressingly on his mother's; "but I was not speaking of either love or loss. I meant only that for Harry Frankland's advantages over me, I might, perhaps, have a little balance on my side. For example, I picked him out of the canal, as my father says," the young man went on laughing; "but never mind the Franklands; I suppose I shall have to see them, as they are here."

"Weel, Colin, you can please yourself," said his father. "I'm no' a man to court the great, but an English baronet, like Sir Thomas, is aye a creditable acquaintance for a callant like you; and he's aye awfu' civil as I was saying; but the first thing to be sure of is what you mean to do. You have had the play for near a year, and it doesna appear to me that tutorships, and that kind of thing, are the right training for a minister. You'll go back to your studies, and go through with them without more interruptions, if you'll be guided by me."

But at this point Colin paused, and had a good many explanations to give. His heart was set on the Balliol scholarship, which he had once given up for Matty's sake; but now there was another chance for him, which had arisen unexpectedly. This it was which had hastened his return home. As for his father, the farmer yielded with but little demur to this proposal. A clear Scotch head, even when it begins to lose its sense of the ideal, and to become absorbed in "the beasts," seldom deceives itself as to the benefits of education; and big Colin had an intense secret confidence in the powers of his son. Honours at Oxford, in the imagination

of the Scotch farmer, were a visionary avenue leading to any impossible altitude. He made a little resistance for appearance sake, but he was in reality more excited by the idea of the conflict

first, for the scholarship itself; then for all possible prizes and honours to the glory of Scotland and Ramorethan was Colin himself.

"But after a year's play you're no qualified," he said, with a sense of speaking ironically, which was very pleasant to his humour. "A competition's an awfu' business; your rivals that have aye been keeping at it will be better qualified than you."

At which Colin smiled, as his father meant him to smile, and answered, "I am not afraid," more modestly a great deal than the farmer in his heart was answering for him; but then an unexpected antagonist arose.

"I dinna pretend to ken a great deal about Oxford," said the Mistress, whose brow was clouded; "but it's an awfu' put-off of time as far as I can see. I'm no fond of spending the best of life in idle learning. Weel, weel, maybe its no idle learning for them that can spare the time; but for a lad that's no out of the thought of settling for himself and doing his duty to his fellow-creatures-I was reading in a book no that long ago," said Colin's mother, "about thae fellowships and things, and of men so misguided as to stay on and live to be poor bachelor bodies, with their Greek and their Latin, and no mortal use in this world. Eh, Colin, laddie, if that was a' that was to come of you!—"

"You're keen to see your son in a pulpit, like the rest of the silly women," said the farmer; "for my part, I'm no that bigoted to the kirk; if he could do better for himsel'

But at this juncture the Mistress got up with a severe countenance, laying aside the stocking she was knitting. "Eh, Colin, if you wouldn't get so worldly," cried the anxious mother. "I'm no one that's aye thinking of a callant bettering himself. If he's taken arles in one service, would you have