sister, who was with them, and the couple separated, never to meet again.
Cast down by this circumstance, Wallace then drifted to Australia, where he took up his abode among the roughs and savages of the "bush." On one of his visits to Sydney, his acquaintances discovered that the man they considered to be an ordinary immigrant, was in reality a fine musician and an excellent violinist. The news was carried to the Governor of the colony, and he insisted that Wallace give a concert. This was done with great success. The Governor was so pleased that he made him a present of a hundred sheep, the staple currency of the colony at that time.
Wallace later went to Tasmania, where he narrowly escaped being butchered to make a Tasmanian savage's holiday, and on one occasion his life was saved through the romantic intervention of a chief's daughter. After this he went on a whaling voyage, and only he and three companions escaped the wreck of the vessel. His next journey was to India, where he played before sumptuous courts of several Indian princes, and after that went to South America, where he crossed the continent by a slow but sure method, viz., on the back of a mule. He then came to North America, and finally landed in London, having netted a handsome sum by his playing.
In London, in 1845, he undertook to compose an opera, and "Maritana" was the result. This was such a success that it was followed by similar works. When his eyesight began to fail, he again visited the western continents, and again he figured in some interesting experiences, more interesting, perhaps, to the reader than to Wallace. One of them was that a steamboat on which he traveled blew up, and he narrowly escaped with his life; and another was that he lost nearly all his savings by the failure of a pianoforte factory in New York. But he retrieved his fortunes through concert giving, and finally ended his eventful career in the Pyrenees mountains, in 1865.
