extinct volcano. Hardly did its aspect reach the solid quiet of the
Vesuvian interior, as described by some scanty classic records, prior to
the grand, sudden, entirely unexpected outburst of the Pompeiian
eruption. Let the crowds of the future Pompeiis and Herculaneums of
Victoria look out, for their Vesuvius may some day play havoc, with
similar treachery.

We were introduced early to old Gorrie and his nephew McGregor, two
doughty Scots, famous--and too famous--in the native hostilities of the
last year or two--indeed, ever since these fine runs were taken up. The
aboriginal of so fine a country was, at any rate, a primus inter pares
of his race, and no way to be despised. The white invaders suffered
heavily, in property at least, if not much in their own lives, at the
hands of the invaded. Which side was in fault would have been a hard
knot to unravel, and probably few on either side troubled themselves
much to undo it. Old Gorrie was ever in the thick of war, and duty and
inclination went cordially together. He was a cool and terrible shot,
and had a terribly long and forcibly arguing rifle. The story goes that,
when a couple of pursued marauders had escaped from one covert, and in
wild terror were making for another, he quietly waited till they chanced
to come in line, and then sent one bullet through both. But he had his
cautious and adroit way of telling his doings, as he described to us
how, in the turmoil of pursuit, "the gun gaed aff" and "some puir
craturs fell." He had good need, for the authorities had been thoroughly
aroused by the occasional atrocities that were sure to arise out of the
strong mutual antipathies of the case; and on one occasion, for what
seemed a signal case of this kind, involving the massacre of unresisting
women as well as men, five colonists were arrested and brought to trial,
and would certainly have "swung for it" had there not been some
inadequacy of direct evidence.