dreams in the open to face the realities of the settlement. Rebuffs were as familiar to him as the sunshine. The prosperous farmer in the country and the sleek tradesman in the town, alike, showed him contempt. They had got on in the world, and so, if they were only honest and industrious, could any one else, he as much as read in their looks and words. He had not got on in the world, therefore it was impossible that he should be either.
A few paces from where he sat the road forked. One branch ended in the settlement, the other continued in a straight line to the gum field, for which he was bound. Indeed it was his uncertainty as to whether he should go on, or seek food and shelter for the night, that had induced him to halt.
With a curious expression of countenance and the movement or a child about to produce a treasure, secretly regarded with superstitious affection or awe, he drew from his breast a penny, very much dented, and with a hole in it, through which had been run a blue ribbon, now faded and creased almost beyond recognition. It was the only coin he possessed, and had it not been refused by every storekeeper in the district, would have been parted with long before.
"Which o' them shall it be?" he said aloud; and then a trifle bitterly, "so far as comfort goes, either. But let the copper say: the open, heads; yonder, tails."
Then, with the ease of practice, he spun it round and tossed, catching it deftly in his palm.
"Heads," he murmured, sighing; "I might 'a known it."
Twice he repeated the process, and each time the result was the same.
But he made no attempt to go. For another hour he sat in the sunshine, toying idly with the penny and whistling snatches of a bush ballad. Then he lumbered to his feet as if crippled by age
