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a seat in their cart. On arriving at the farm
the elder son met the party at the slip-rail
(homely gate). He was a tall, healthy, open-
hearted lad, who greeted us with–––

"Come, Mother, be careful. Jump out,
girls. Now, Mrs. C–––, how welcome you
are; and the dinner just ready! Ah! you
need not tell me who gave you the sermon:
he's as good as the clock."

As the girls had all been to church, and
there was no female servant in the house, the
description of this rural home, and a short
detail of the dinner, may be acceptable.

The family room was large, with a commodious
fire-place. The table was laid for twelve;
the plates and dishes were of blue delf; the
knives and forks looked bright and shiny.
It may be remarked, that the Settler's table
in New South Wales is somewhat differently
arranged from what one is accustomed to see
in England, for here the knife and fork were
placed at the right of the plate, while a
chocolate-coloured tea-cup and saucer stood at
the left; a refreshing cup of tea being made a
part of the dinner repast. By the fire-place
might be seen a large black pot, full of
potatoes, with a white cloth laid on the top for
the purpose of steaming them. Again, at the
outer door might be noticed the son with a
man-servant, looking into an oven, and drawing
from thence a large hind-quarter of pork,
followed by a peach pie.

"Lend a hand here!" shouted the son.

"Ah! I thought you could not do without
me," said the father.

"Keep the youngsters out of the way, and
look about you, girls;" cried the mother.

Moving where I could better see the cause
of the outcry, a round of beef, cut large and
"handsome," as the settlers say in the Bush,
had been forced into a pot; but no fork,
although a Bush-fork is rather a formidable
tool, could remove it.

"You ought to have put a cord round it,"
remarked the mother.

"Turn the pot on one side," said the father.

"Over with it; out with it; shake!–––oh,
here we have it now."

As the pot was removed, the beef was seen
to advantage, reeking in a bright clean milk-

"Now, let us make it look decent," said
the self-trained cook, as with his knife he cut
the out-pieces off to improve its appearance.
His trimmings were substantial cuttings, and
displayed to advantage the fine qualify of the
beef; each cutting he threw to his dogs, as
they watched at a respectful distance his
operations. Now, though some of my readers
may not much admire this bush-culinary art,
and this mode of dishing-up a dinner, still
there was in the whole scene so much of
honest hospitality, so much of cheerful and
good humoured hilarity, exhibiting in the
most pleasing form the simple manners of a
primitive people,–––the germs, in fact, of the
class of English yeomanry, too often unable to
nourish in their own native land, ingrafted
and revived in a foreign distant shore, that
even the most fastidious and refined could not
but feel at such a moment a peculiar zest in
joining a family so innocently happy and
guileless as this, surrounded as they were by
abundance of all the essential necessaries of
life. Not a shade of care clouded the party,
as they sat down with thankfulness to partake
of those things with which God had blessed
their labour.

The arrangement of the table was something
in unison with the rest. The pork, so
well seasoned, graced the head of the table,
while the burly piece of beef, now reeking and
streaming from its late trimming, was placed
before the honest master of this patriarchal
family, with a plentiful supply of potatoes,
peas, and greens, ranged in their proper places.
As soon as the party had partaken of the
substantial, the eldest daughter poured tea
into the cups set by each one's plate–––for this
is the custom amongst the Australian settlers;
at the same time the good landlady cut up
the peach pie.

The eldest son could now be seen through
an open doorway, peering again into the
rudely constructed oven, from which he pulled,
with a good deal of self-importance and glee,
an orange tart, whilst his assistant-cook placed
custards on the table in tumblers. The good
wife looked amazed, the husband thoughtful.

"How did you get the oranges," asked the

"Why, Frank Gore brought 'em," he

"And who made the custards?"

"I made 'em!"


"What! our Tom make custards!"
exclaimed the mother.

"Why not?" replied the young man.
evidently anxious to show that he could turn
his hand to anything useful.

"I see, I see how it is," said the father,
"Tom heard that Mrs. C. was coming, and he
wants a wife."

"A wife! the like of him want a wife."
said the mother, who, for the first time, looked
on his athletic and manly form with sad

"Tom made the custard," said Jane, "and
William the tart."

"I did not bring the oranges," replied Tom,
as Frank Gore entered with a dish of grapes.

"It 's a regular plot," said the mother.

"A down right contrivance–––and I expect
it is a settled affair," observed the father.

'Jane, don't blush," sportively remarked

"Let me see," said the father, thoxightfully.
'Tom is four years older than I was when I
married, so he is,–––but Jane is too young.

"Say a word," whispered the mother to
me;" say a word, Mrs. C.

"A snug home indeed,––I only wish my