relieved, from my painfulembarrassment, when our steps brought us back to the house.
I loved Lenore for what she had been; and regarded her now as lost--asdead; yet I determined to remain true to her. My affections were notwandering fancies--finding a home wherever circumstances might offer it.I could "love but one."
Jessie H--was beautiful, innocent, and affectionate; but all thesequalities could not conquer my love for Lenore; and honour commanded meto depart speedily from her presence.
Shortly after entering the house, she retired to her own room; and I sawno more of her for the night.
Before doing so myself, I took leave of Mr and Mrs H--, telling themthat I must be off by daybreak in the morning.
My companions, Vane and Cannon, declared their unwillingness toaccompany me; and used every argument to dissuade me from such an abruptdeparture; but their arguments were only thrown away upon me. I hadformed the determination; and nothing could have influenced me toabandon it. On becoming assured of this, they at length consented to goalong with me.
Mr and Mrs H--did not urge me very strenuously to remain; and Ibelieve that their silent eloquence could have been explained: by thesupposition that it arose, from a regard for the happiness of theirdaughter.
We took our departure from the station at an early hour of the morning--before any of the household--except some of the domestics--were astir.
This manner of leaving may appear unceremonious; and would be so, inmany parts of the world. But it is nothing unusual in Australia--whereearly setting out upon a journey is almost the universal fashion.
I did not care for the company of Vane and Cannon, on the way back toMelbourne. I would much rather have dispensed with it: as I wished tobe alone. I wanted an opportunity for reflection--such as that journeywould have afforded me. The society of Jessie H--had revived manymemories within me. It had rekindled my passion for Lenore--strengthened my regrets for the past, and my despair for the future.
As I walked at a rapid pace, my companions fell behind--until, atlength, I lost of them altogether.
Before the hour of noon, I had reached the city of Melbourne--sorry tothink I had ever left it, to go upon an excursion, that had ended onlyin adding to the discontent already too firmly established within mybosom.
Volume Two, Chapter XXVIII.
UNSUITABLE ASSOCIATES.
Once more I found myself without a home, without an occupation, andwithout any plans for the future--with a spirit undecided--depending onsome slight circumstance as to what course I should next take.
Such a position is ever unpleasant. I knew this, from the fact ofhaving been too often placed in it; and being well accustomed to thedisagreeable reflections attending it.
I was anxious to decide, upon something to do. What should it be? Whatpart of the world should I next visit? Why had I come back to Melbourneat all? Was it to make more money; or spend what I had already made?These, and a thousand other interrogatories succeeded each other in mymind; but to none of them could I give an intelligent answer.
While in this state of indecision, I came near losing a portion of myself-respect. There was a good deal to seduce me into habits ofdissipation; and not much to restrain me from them. I had no longer themotives, to guard me against evil courses, that had once guided me.What could I gain, by always keeping on my best behaviour? Ever sincefirst leaving home, I had endeavoured to conduct myself, as well as mylimited knowledge would allow. What had I gained by it? Nothing,except, perhaps, a little vanity. Was this worth all the exertion I hadmade by resisting temptation?
Having little else to do, I spent some time in considering the question.The result was: satisfaction at the course I had pursued, and adetermination to continue it.
A little vanity is, perhaps, after all, not such a bad thing. If a mancannot win the good opinion of others, he should endeavour to keep onproper terms with himself; and this he cannot do, without conductinghimself in a proper manner. Because Fortune had not dealt with me, as Ihad wished, that was no reason why I should take her for an example, andimitate her unkindness. A man in adversity is too often deserted by hisacquaintances; but this is no argument for turning against himself andbecoming his own enemy. I determined not to act in a manner so stupid.I had too much self-respect, or pride, or vanity, to do so. Call it bywhat name you please, it served me at that time in good stead: for itwas this, and nothing else, that restrained me from entering upon acourse of dissipation.
My companions Vane and Cannon were good examples of men, who act withoutany fixed principles or firm resolve. They had both been, in the oldcountry, what is called a "little wild," and had come to the coloniesnot from any inclination on their own part, but rather at the instanceof their relatives and friends. They had been _sent_ out, in fact--inthe hope of their getting _tamed_ by the hardships of colonial life.
I have known thousands of genteel young men similarly expatriated; andwho, armed with letters of introduction and recommendation, had landedin the colonies, under the belief that they were very much wanted there.Never was there a greater delusion--as most of them had afterwardsreason to know. The only people required in Australia are those of goodhabits--combined with some brains, or else a willingness to work. The"fast youths" packed off to get them out of the way, are generallydeficient in these essential requisites--otherwise they might have foundemployment at home.
Unwilling to work, they arrive in the colonies with too good an opinionof themselves and too low an opinion of the people there. Althoughleaving England under the belief that there may be greater people leftbehind, they feel confident that they will stand foremost in Australia.
Some of these young gentlemen have the sense soon to discover theirmistake; and many of them turn to hard work, with a will that does themcredit. My companions Cannon and Vane were not of this kidney. Neitherwould consent to do anything, that savoured of "toil;" and with alltheir letters of introduction--backed by the influence of the friends towhom they had come introduced--they were unable to procure what they hadbeen led to expect--easy situations under "government."
According to their showing, there was something wrong in the system; andthe fault was with the colonial government and people. They could notunderstand that those who are called upon to govern a young colony--andput together the machinery of its social state--require to knowsomething: and that they who, in their native land, have provedincapable of performing any useful duty, will be found still moreuseless, in a land where the highest capability is required.
Both had been unfortunate in having friends, who, while apparentlybehaving too well to them, had in reality been treating them in a cruelmanner. They had been brought up in idleness--with the idea that labouris vulgar, and disgraceful to a gentleman. With these views they hadbeen thrust forth upon a wide world--to war with life's battles, as itwere, undisciplined and unarmed. Neither had the spirit successfully tocontend against the adverse circumstances, in which they now foundthemselves; and they appeared to think that the best way for combatingtheir misfortune was to betake themselves to a course of dissipation.
I endeavoured to persuade them, to go up to the diggings with me, andtry to make their fortune by honest and honourable labour; but bothrejected my counsel--Vane even receiving it with scorn. They would notsoil their soft hands by bringing them in contact with the dirty earth!They had as little inclination for such menial labour, as I for manyhabits in which they indulged, and which to my way of thinking were farmore menial than gold-digging.
They had been educated as gentlemen--I had not. Their ways were not myways; and, seeing this, I resolved to cut their acquaintance. They werenaturally not bad fellows; but they had faults, arising from a defectiveeducation, that rendered their company undesirable--especially in aplace like Melbourne.
They were both pleasant companions; and in many respects I could haveliked them; but as they were trying to live in Melbourne on nothing ayear, I saw they would not be the right sort of associates for me.
To do them justice, they seemed to be aware of this themselves, moreespecially Cannon. One day he had the honesty to confess to me, that hewas afraid he could not lead the life of a respectable gentleman anylonger.
"Why?" I asked; "can you not get work?"
"No," he answered with a sneer; "I'm not going to drive bullocks, ordry-nurse a flock of sheep, for any man. I must live in some othermanner--whether it be considered respectable or not."
"What can you do?" I inquired.
"Haven't an idea. I only know, Stone, that I shall be `spongeing' onyou, if you don't cut my acquaintance."
"And, when you can live on your acquaintance no longer, what then?"
"Then I must turn billiard-marker. My friends have sent me here, asthey said, to make my fortune, but, as I believe, only to get rid of anyfurther trouble with me at home. They have succeeded in their purpose:for I don't believe that I shall ever rise the `tin' to return