ignorance of their tastes and management; held it till after the gold; never did any work himself; spent a fair portion of his time at the Melbourne Club. Finally sold out at a handsome profit with a large stock of sheep, and departed to England, never to return.
This looks like luck. Doubtless there was an infusion of that most agreeable ingredient. But I have no doubt either that the mild and elegant William possessed a reasonable share of prudence, about which, like his other endowments and accomplishments, he said nothing. His first introduction to our Port Fairy community was at race time, when he appeared with the Hunters and Sturt, riding a beautiful little blood mare called Medora, a safe and easy mount, his long legs curiously near the ground. There couldn't be, however, a nicer fellow, and Australia will ever owe him a debt of gratitude for extending the hand of generous and delicate hospitality to the artist who first worthily illustrated her free forest life, her adventurous sons and daughters fair.
Charles Mackinnon, erst of Skye—old Charles as he may possibly now be called, alas! and may not the insidious adjective be applied to others of his contemporaries?—dwelt hard by with Mr. Watson, his partner. He yet lives in my memory as the kindest of men. "Kind as a woman" exactly describes his disposition as exemplified in my case. There were no women, by the way, thereabouts in those days, except black ones, who used to fetch in the horses on foot, carry water, and otherwise make themselves useful.
