most of us an unexpected enjoyment in the middle of an Australian
summer. A small boat came to us at the anchorage containing Mr. and Mrs.
D.C. McArthur and others who had friends or relations on board, and who
told us that for some days there had been excessive heat and a hot wind,
which had now reacted in this southerly blast, to go on probably into
heavy rain, the country being excessively dry.


MY FIRST NIGHT ASHORE.

"The Hut on the Flat."
--James Henry.

"How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude."
--Cowper.

The rain did follow at night to the full as predicted. I had engaged to
accompany a young friend that evening to spend the next day, Sunday, at
his "country seat" on Richmond Flat, where he had constructed, mostly
with his own hands, a sort of hut or wigwam, under an unchallenged
squattage. Being engaged in a store for long hours on Saturday night, it
was past eleven ere we started. The rain had begun to pour, and the
night was pitch dark. We got into Collins-street, but had much
difficulty in keeping its lines where there were not post-and-rail
fences round the vacant allotments. Only three years had elapsed since
Melbourne had been named and officially laid out, and, excepting the
very centre, there were still wide intervals between the houses on
either side even of Collins-street. After floundering helplessly about
in the foundation-cutting of a new house, which was already full of
water, but happily only a few inches deep, we at length emerged upon the