Mrs. Aitken, as literally as by courtesy the good wife of the house, and
then in the full charm of her beauty and strong youth (now Mrs. Kaye,
and sadly changed in both respects), went busily about, her young family
at her skirts, administering plenty and preserving order, while, towards
genial eve, her good man occupied a quiet corner, indisputable king for
the nonce of the toddy race. The night accommodations were a difficulty,
although not a few, like the host himself, were in no great want. I and
a score or two of others turned into a wool loft, where a number of
little mattresses, mostly of a pro re nata kind, were provided, into one
of which I was soon ensconced and fast asleep. But well on, as I
guessed, in the small hours we were all awoke by loud and burly noise in
the loft, proceeding, as we soon recognized, from two Anakims of the
party, Isaac Buchanan and John Porter, who seemed on the eve of a
struggle for a Mace or Nolan belt. Porter had retired peacefully with
me, but Buchanan had been vieing in the toddy corner with his host, and
when inevitably knocked under--for the other had not yet been limited by
his doctor to that woman's wash, as he called it, sparkling moselle--he
had contrived to find the common loft. It is said, of unpractised topers
at any rate, that, after an extra indulgence, they either see nothing or
see double. Whichever it was with Buchanan, he insisted on berthing for
the night in Porter's occupied nest, while the latter, after standing
the all-round chaff for a little, got savage and threatened war.
Buchanan's sight getting by-and-by clearer, the remainder of the night
was, happily, peace. But it was not for long, as almost with the dawn
our host, alive as if nothing out of the usual had happened, woke us up
with the invitation to finish the champagne by way of refresher after
all the toils and toddy we had gone through.

DR. THOMSON, OF GEELONG.