punt is tolerably well managed, except when the man gets intoxicated--
not an unfrequent occurrence. When there was neither bridge nor punt,
those who wished to cross were obliged to ford it; and so strong has
been the current, that horses have been carried down one or two hundred
yards before they could effect a landing. Keilor is a pretty little
village with a good inn, several nice cottages, and a store or two. The
country round is hilly and barren--scarcely any herbage and that
little is rank and coarse; the timber is very scarce. This road to the
diggings is not much used.

But to return to ourselves. The rain and bad roads made travelling so
very wearisome, that before we had proceeded far it was unanimously
agreed that we should halt and pitch our first encampment.
"Pitch our first encampment! how charming!" exclaims some romantic
reader, as though it were an easily accomplished undertaking. Fixing a
gipsy-tent at a FETE CHAMPETRE, with a smiling sky above, and all
requisites ready to hand, is one thing, and attempting to sink poles
and erect tents out of blankets and rugs in a high wind and pelting
rain, is (if I may be allowed the colonialism) "a horse of quite
another colour." Some sort of sheltering-places were at length
completed; the horses were taken from the dray and tethered to some
trees within sight, and then we made preparations for satisfying the
unromantic cravings of hunger--symptoms of which we all, more or less,
began to feel. With some difficulty a fire was kindled and kept alight
in the hollow trunk of an old gum tree. A damper was speedily made,
which, with a plentiful supply of steaks and boiled and roasted eggs,
was a supper by no means to be despised. The eggs had been procured at
four shillings a dozen from a farm-house we had passed.

It was certainly the most curious tea-table at which I had ever