most cases the only rent which his tenants can afford to pay is in
kind. 'The only real wealth to a colony is the incessant influx of
immigration, combining capital and labour.'

There are some of us, happily, who still retain the ancient
philosophy. We have not thought of pecuniary wealth, and are content
to live easily, with those moderate blessings which attach to a
beneficent climate and a simple mode of life.

So very little is required which money can buy, that men seem to be
annoyed at the fact, and insist upon creating new wants.

A great deal of discontent and repining generally prevails in a
colony. People who have lived miserably in England, who have long
doubtfully hovered between suicide and highway robbery, determine at
length to adopt the still more melancholy alternative of emigration.
After bequeathing a few tender sighs to the country which they have
hitherto regarded rather as a step-mother than a parent; and having
pathetically solicited the sympathy of those who more readily bestow
upon them a few pounds than a few tears, in the pious hope of never
seeing them more, our emigrants betake themselves to the favoured
land of their adoption, in the full and confident belief that they
have nothing now to do, but live "like gentlemen," though without the
means, or any other qualifications of that class. Their Faith is of
that affecting and unlimited description, as to lead them to suppose
that He who beneficently feeds the ravens will not neglect the rooks
or the drones.

In a very short time, however, they find that they are no better off
in the new than they were in the old country. The gum-trees do not