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Julius Winbourne finished his remarkable story we were still advancing slowly along the eastern shore of the lake, directing our course southward. The waters lay in calm repose, and the rays of the declining sun fell upon them with a heavenly but transient glow. I now regarded that lovely, half green, half gray crystal mirror with a more concentrated interest than ever.

We pursued our way for some time in silence: he, perhaps, thinking deep thoughts upon which I might not intrude, and I of the strange occurrences that may happen to any one of us when we least expect them. We had turned away from the lake at a place called Boggy Marsh, and now walked more briskly up a rugged path which would lead us, I knew, to the hut where, in all likelihood, I, if not both of us, should remain for the night. We had passed a deserted cottage with an iron roof, and reached a spot where stood the ruins of a large chimney that had been built for some shepherd's residence in the days when civilized Tasmania was younger than she is now. Here Julius proposed that we should sit down awhile and rest, previous to ascending a wooded hill in front of us, and we did so after taking precautions against cold stones and damp grass.

'I do not know why it is,' he said; 'there is a feeling