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 mount. A poor young fellow, acting as herd-boy on the occasion, was killed. The fugitive was doubly fortunate, as he not only reached the rough ground with his bones uninjured, but stumbled upon a humane old native in the stony valley who drew the spear out of his wound.

Two or three miles beyond this colonially historic point brought us to a stopping-place called Mahogany Creek, where a little inn stands by the wayside. The sun was so powerful that it was a comfort to get underneath the long trellissed pathway, arched over with vines, which led up to the door, where an Australian magpie was playing, which bit my poor dog as we went in. This bird's hatred to dogs was surpassed only by her aversion to children, the sight of whom in an approaching vehicle would at any time bring her flying from a distance to be ready on the offensive at the moment of their alighting. Such conduct in her pet hurt the landlady's feelings, as evincing a heartless disregard for the interests of the hostelry, and the last time that I asked after poor Mag, I was told that she had been got rid of on that account.

The business of the lark as harbinger of morning devolves in Australia upon the magpies, which on this account are commonly called "break-of-day birds." Their song is like the playing of a very soft flute, and when one thinks of the painful effect upon the nerves of being awakened by a discordant or violent noise, there appears an extreme beneficence in the sweetness of tone which has been everywhere imparted to those whose office it is to arouse creation in general. The magpies sing through the day also, and especially towards evening, and it would be difficult to imagine sounds more soothing than