"You will take particular care of this horse, young man walk him about a
little; wash his back with salt and water. Just unbuckle the saddle-
bags; give them to me. Oh! safe enough, I dare say, but papers of
consequence. The prosperity of the colony depends on these papers.
What would become of you all if any accident happened to them, I shudder
to think."

And here, attired in a twill shooting-jacket budding with gilt buttons
impressed with a well-remembered device; a cabbage-leaf hat shading a
face rarely seen in the Bush; a face smooth as razor could make it;
neat, trim, respectable-looking as ever; his arm full of saddle-bags,
and his nostrils gently distended, inhaling the steam of the banquet,--
walks in--Uncle Jack.

Pisistratus (leaping up).--"Is it possible? You in Australia!--you in
the Bush!"

Uncle Jack, not recognizing Pisistratus in the tall bearded man who is
making a plunge at him, recedes in alarm, exclaiming: "Who are you?
Never saw you before, sir! I suppose you'll say next that I owe you
something!"

Pisistratus.--"Uncle Jack!"

Uncle Jack. (dropping his saddle-bags).--"Nephew! Heaven be praised!
Come to my arms!"

They embrace; mutual introductions to the company,--Mr. Vivian, Mr.
Bolding, on the one side; Major MacBlarney, Mr. Bullion, Mr. Emanuel