Chapter 126326771

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Chapter NumberI
Chapter Title
Chapter Url
Full Date1896-11-14
Page Number9
Word Count5921
Last Corrected0000-00-00
Newspaper TitleThe Maitland Weekly Mercury (NSW : 1892-1931)
Trove TitleThe Gold Seekers
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IS WHICH THE HERO'S FATE IS SHAPED. ' Game ! Set ! Come and Lave some tea,' Ivor. ' That's the second time I have beaten you to-day ; you ought to be ashamed of your c,„1f »

Ivor Gwynne laughed, picked up his coat and, coming round the net, joined his fair opponent, 'who awaited him. They were both good to look upon. Ivor Gwynne, who had just finished his last term at Cambridge, was over six feet in height, broad and well-made ; he had deep brown Welsh eyes, quick-glancing and bright, and aquiline nose, and a merry, bronzed face. Gwendolen Llewellyn was one of those girls whom one would like to show to other people, and say, ' Look, this is a typical girl !' i'or a woman, she was very tall, but so per fectly proportioned that her height did not make her appear in the least ungainly. Hers Ws that healthy beauty which life in the open ? air alone produces ; but, perhaps, her chief charm was a deep, soft contralto voice. They walked side by side bown a slope of turf until they reached a little summer-house at the foot of the garden. Far below ran the Usk— the Usk of. King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table ; a dense oak 'wood clothcd its opposite bank ; beyond the 'wood in the distance lay the two peaks of the Brecon Beacons, hazy in the warm after noon air. Both knew the scene by heart, for, although in no way related, they had lived nearly all their lives under the same roof. 'Here's tea,' said Gwen, after they had sat in silence for about ten minutes. ' Any letters, Mary ?' 'Yes, Miss,' answered the maid; and handed two letters to Gwen and one to Ivor, while she placed the Times of the previons day beside the tray. Ivor read his letter carefully, picked up the Times, and searched for a particular announce ment, found it, laid down the paper again, and sighed. Gwen finished her letters, looked up at Ivor ?with a smile, which fled quickly when she ?eaw his face, and said : ' 'What is it, Ivor ? Are you ill ?' For answer, Ivor handed her his letter. Gwen opened it and read as follows : Dear Ivor: — Had X known that all the trouble I have taken over your education would have re sulted in this way, you may rest assured that it would never have been undertaken. After every possible advantage that a boy and a young man can have, your name appears in the Tripos list — where it does. I presume you have seen it. I consider your position the lo (vest possible. If it had been one lower, I should not have minded so much. A certain amount of notoriety, if not v of honor, is attached to the Wooden Spoon, and tfie disgrace ia to a certain extent covered by it. Four position on the list iB disgraceful. I did not hope or expect you to be Benior wrangler, but the opportunities I have afforded you gave me a right to expect that you would at least be among the wranglerB. After this fiasco I consider that I can do nothiug else but 'wash my hands of you altogether. I had hoped that you might be able' to fill a position in my office, but it being obvious that you sre incapable of work or sustained effort, auch a course, on my part, would be suicidal. If two hundred and fifty

pounds are or any service to you, tney are at; your disposal. Any expectations from me, at my death, will bo doomed to disappointment. I could have forgiven anything but what you have shown me — ingratitude. I should be glad to hear from you re the two hundred and fifty pounds, after which any communication from you will be destroyed un opened. Yours very truly, Eich:aed Gwynne. Gwen folded up the letter, and, looking up, said : ' Oh, Ivor dear, what does it mean ?' For reply Ivor handed her tho Times, and pointed out his name in the Mathematical ? Tripos list. He was last but one among the Junior Optimes, 'Well,' said Gwen, 'what does that matter ?' ' Ivor smiled, and he said : ' It matters that insiead of having any chance of entering a profession, I am a pauper.' * s ? .* 'Bat the two hundred and fifty pounds ?' ' I shan't touch it.' Gwen rose, and laying her hand upon Ivor's arm, said, quickly : 'Ivor, this is foolish. I knew that .your uncle was a hard and cruel man. You owe him nothing in the way of affection. Don't let sentiment or pride enter into the matter at all. Write and tell him that you will take ' But that letter ?' ' Never mind the letter. If vou don't take

tho money, you will be very foolish ; it will give you a start — help you to get to a new country. Ivor started up. ' Right, Gwen ; you are right — a new coun try. I will start at once.' Gwen's face fell at the alacrity with which Ivor accepted lier suggestion. A look of hope that is only to be seen on the face of very young men had spread over Ivor's face ; in an instant he had seen now lands open up be fore him — a fortune rolling in as if by magic. ? He stretched out his arms, and laughed, a short, eagor laugh, at the prospect which hope had thus suddenly given him. Gwen looked at him wistfully. Was sho then, and had sho been all these years, noth ing to him P She sighed as she watched the eager look of expectancy pass over Ivor's face, and then said, quickly : ' Come, Ivor, have some tea ; you can think of this afterwards.' Ivor took the tea mechanically and drank it; doubled up a piece of bread and butter, and another, and ate them in an absent way, took a second' cup of tea from Gwen without noticing it, and then said moro to himself than, to Gwen : 'Yes, it is bettor, aftor all, to try a new country than to stow in a solicitor's office all ono s life.' ^

' Life is very hard in new countries, Ivor, said Gwen. 'That doesn't matter, dear. Iam strong enough and young, enough, and energetic en ough to ovoreome all difficulties. I shall be back again before you know where you are, with my pockets full of gold, and then — ' Ivor stopped suddenly and looked at Gwen. J' Well, Ivor ?' said Gwen quietly. Oh, then I suppose I shall settl.o down somewhero here, and become a respectable country gentleman.' Gwen didn't answer. Sho rose and leaned over the fence again aud looked down into the gulf below, where the watars of the Usk seemed almost black in the deepening shado over the oak wood on the opposite bank. Ivor rose too, placed himself beside her, and said : ' I wonder when I shall see this again with you, Gv. QU. You will write to me, when I am away, won't you, dear ?' ' Of course I will. Come, let us go up to the house. Father will be home from Brecon soon, and it is nearly time to dress for din ner.' They walked side by side up the long, slope of short, thick turf, in silence. They had- been in love with each other without knowing it, any time for the last five years. Gwen was just twenty and Ivor twenty-three. They had lived in the same house together since Ivor first went to school, and had grown so accustomed to each other that they did not know what life would be apart. When Ivor had been at school or Cambridge, they had corresponded two or three times a week, writing their thoughts and aspirations just as they came into the mind of each. There had been no restraint of any sort ; they did not know that they were in love with each other; they had never thought of the matter from that point of view. ' During Ivor's last years at school and while he was at Cambridge he had felt rest less and uneasy and fretful -for the first few days of term, and never could make out why ; it was only 'when the newer interests of cricket or boating began again that he found he could throw off his restlessness and feeling of solitude. At home at Glanwythian, Gwen had the same feelings.' She would moon

about tho grounds or paddle up under the trees on the Usk with a curious physical pain in her breast which she could not describe, until Ivor's first letter should have arrived, when her whole demeanour would change, and she would go singing about tho house a new being. Again, toward the end of term, she would fly in and out of his room, seeing that everything was in order, filling it with the choicest flowers in the conservatory or the garden, doing everything that a woman s soft hands could do, to make him comfortable and appreciate his home-coming ; for was not this his home ? He had had no other since his father died seventeen years before. In the school holidays or University vaca tion they two would wander all day long over the hills on foot or on horseback, and there was no nook within thirty miles of Glanwythian which tliey did not know. In summer they would be up at dawn and* fol low the otter hounds until well in the after noon, and finish up the day with lawn tennis. In autumn there was cub and in winter- fox hunting.' Gwen never seemed to be tired ; she was as strong physically and constitutionally as a man, and made for Ivor a companion whom he never could have found among his male friends. , And all this charming life of the last six or seven years was suddenly to be changed. That was the thought which ;'occupicd both their minds as they strolled slowly up the slope towards the house. When the holidays came round Gwen would have nothing to look for ward to. How miserably flat and dull Glanwy thian would be without Ivor ! And she felt a choking sensation in her throat as she thought of it. Half her pleasuro had been in Ivor's company ; more — had she only dared to con fess it — all the pleasure had been in his com pany. Ivor felt the same. Just as they reached the broad gravel walk in front of the house Ivor took Gwen's arm, and said, softly : 'Don't you think it best for me to go, Gwennie ?' ' Yes, Ivor, I do,' answered Gwen, bravely, and passed into the house. Gwen meant what she said, but she would have given a good deal to be able to say the reverse. Ivor wrote to his uncle, who answered with a cheque for two hundred and fifty pounds, and the remark : ' Mr. Richard Gwynne has no desire to see Mr. Ivor Gwynne, or to hold any further communication with him.' Ivor sighed as he read these lines, not be cause he loved his uncle — he didn't— but be cause ho disliked to have anything the sliapo

of a quarrel with any man. He was one of those easy-going laissez faire people who need an event of groat moment to arouse whi^t lies undermost, and who never show their real nature except at great crises. He owed his uncle much — of that he was well aware. His mother had died at his bii'uh and his father — a struggling country parson, son of a younger son of a very old and honourable family — had died when he was six years old and had left him destitute. His uncle, chiefly from mercenary motives, had sent him to ono of the lesser public schools, aud then to Cambridge, at his own cost en tirely. Aud now — well, Ivor had no claim on him ; he had had his education, and presum ably that was all he was to get. Ho could not complain — far from it ; he ought to be thankful for- the opportunities he had had. Mr. Llewellyn was his father's oldest friend, who had taken Ivor and looked after him as his own son over since Ivor's father had died. Ho wasn't very rich; all his in come was derived from the estate of Glan wythian, which he farmed himself, and which brought him in on an average, about a thou sand pounds a year. Gwen was his only child — in fact, his only very near rolative. * S- * * :*: *. ? # In a fortnight from tho time that Ivor had received his uncle's cheque and second letter, ho was driving away from Glanwythian, bound for South Africa. As the dog-cart drove away from the porch Ivor turned and waved his hand to Gwen, whoso face was sad and pale, while two great tears rolled down her cheeks and fell, unhoeded, on her bosom. Good-bye.' The sad little words were said, and Ivor was on his way to seek his fortune in the great world. ' . CHAPTER, II. . . OUTWAIiD BOUND. ' When Ivor started, he had only thought of that fortune which he was to make as a thing apart, as a . desirable thing, as a thing m fact, which it is evory Englishman's bounden duty to attempt to make. Now that

the shores of England had hid thomselves from view, that fortune became inseparably bound up with G wen. After thrco days' sea-sickness ho found his place at table, and had just sat down to luncheon, when a hand laid on his shoulder made him turn round. ' Beausire ! Where on earth are you going?' 'To the diamond fields, Ivor, my boy.' And he sat down in the seat next to Ivor. 'And you?' ' I am going there, too.' ' Good business,' said Beausiro, delighted. ' We will go shares.' ' But why are you going out ?' asked Ivor. ' Had fearful turn-up with the 'governor over the schools. I was ' spun' for the Tri pos, you know.' 'I saw your name wasn't there. I didn't do much better, and that's why I am going out to the Cape.' ' By Jove ! it's a rum thing that we should be in the same boat, in more ways than one, too. You know I am the seventh son and my gorernor is as poor as a rat ; my eldest brother, the Right Honorable Viscount Brinksborough does not love me, as I have often told you, and talked about me, as a disgrace to the family and a lot of other nonsense, till I lost my hair and told them that if they would put me out of the country I wouldn't bother them again. They seemed glad enough to get rid of me, and I don't care much if I never see them again. Anyhow, it is better to be free than to lie rotting in a miserable country parsonage. That's about what my fate would have been at home.' Ivor smiled as he answered : ' Our cases are very much alike. I am re garded as a disgrace, and left to my own re sources.' ' But you were in the lists. I saw your name-somewhere in the Junior Ops.' ' l/ast but one. My uncle thought that a disgrace, you see.' ' By gad ! I should have been as proud as a peacock if I had been there instead of you.' ' ' What sort of passengers are there on board ?' said Ivor in a low voice. ' A second-rate lot mostly,' answered Beausire ; ' most of them invalids, I should think, the rest going to seek their fortune like you and me.' ' Who sits over there ?' said Ivor, pointing to a vacant place immediately opposite to himself. ' Don't know ; hasn't appeared yet ; some bounder or other like the rest of them. I was looking them over this morning after breakfast, which was my first appearance, and they appeared to be a one-horse crew.' Beausire was a very common type of a certain class of University men, empty-headed, slangy, of no particular moral standard ; in fact, what is known as ' a loose fish' in his 0wn eminently expressive argot, and Ivor was by no means pleased to have met him. At dinner time the place opposite Ivor was still vacant ; after some ten minutes, however, a man came in quietly and slipped into the seat. Ivor and Beausire looked up at the same time at the newcomer. Ivor simply dropped his lcnife'and fork and gazed at him in amazement. Beausire looked from Ivor to the stranger, and from the stranger .to Ivor, and then, without the slightest warning, burst into a peal of laughter. The old passengers stared, but being unaware of the cause of his j merriment, went on again with their dinner. Ivor and the newcomer looked at each other for fall thirty seconds, Ivor's face expressing amazement and fear, the stranger's 'a sort of cynical amusement. Except for the fact that the man who had just come in mnst have been a year or two older than Ivor, he and Ivor might have been twin brothers. They were of the same height and build, had the same coloured hair and eyes, the same features in every respect ; their hawk noses were of the same size and shape ; in fact, were it not for the fact that the newcomer's were not steady like Ivor's, but shiftly and insincere, it would have been practically impossible 10 distinguish them. The stranger, after the mutual scrutiny had come to an end, bowed to Ivor and said : ' Most extraordinary likeness. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name, sir ?' 'My name is Ivor Gwynne,' answered Ivor politely, while Beausire burst into another fit of laughter. ' That is mine,' said the newcomer, as ho took a card out of his pocket and handed it to Ivor. ' 1 Moses Lowe,- Diamond Merchant,' ' read Ivor. ' If you are doing any business at the Cape shall be glad to be of any service to you,' said the Jew, bowing agaiu. Even the tones of their voices were indentical. I Ivor muttered something unintelligible,

md went on with his dinner. The Jew -was most affable and evinced a strong determination to attach himself to Ivor, whether he would or not. The only other people with whom the Jew talked wero two Jewish ladies, with whom he appeared to be on terms of groat intimacy. _ On the evening of the fifth day out, Beau sire, Ivor, and tho Jew were sitting on deck chairs after dinner. Mr Lowe was expatiating upon the goueral prosperity of South Africa, when Ivor, who had been gazing out to sej, in front of him, pointed with his hands and said : ' What'B that ?' All three rose and peeped out over the sea. Far in the distance, over the horizon, a soft, rose-cloud cone seemed to rise out of the sea and pierce the sky. It was the only piece of cloud to break the mononony of sky and soa in all that limitless expanse. As the sun sank into the doop, tho cone seemed to brighten for an instant and then slowly fade from view. ' That's the Peak of Teneriffe,' said Lowe'. '_We shall be in Santa 'Crnz Bay in five or six hours.' ' The peak of Tenerilfe,' murmured Ivor. ' How wonderfully beautiful it is !' Lowe smiled and answered : _ ' When you have seen it ten or a dozon times, as I have, just as we have seen it to night, you won't think much of it.' 'Have you been so often out to tho Cape as that?' asked Ivor, interested in spite of himself. ? ' Two or three times a year, back and for ward, at least. One year I made the journey five times.' J Beausire. yawned and walked aft, leaving Ivor and the Jew together. ' You ought to know tho Cape pretty well by this time, then.' ' I believe you,' said tho Jew, with a wink full of cunning.. » There aro very few people who know the out-of-the-way parts of South Atrica, from Kimberley to Capo Town or Port Elizabeth, as well as I do.' 'Does your trade tako you about tho country so much ? I should have thought that Eng land was tho best market for your goods.'

Lowe looked at Ivor for just a second out of the corner of his oyo, and said, dryly : ' Yes, it is, on tho whole.' Ivor had absolute no knowledge of the country to which ho was going. IJe had a vague idea .that the diamond fields were worked on the lines of the old diggings in Australia; that diamonds were to be had for the mere trouble of pegging out and working it. Ho had, in fact, about as much knowledge of tho country he was going to, and of the work cut ovjt for him, as has the average young Eng lishman who goos to seek his fortune in foreign lands or in tlio colonics. Brought up to no trade, taught to use his hands only at cricket or rowing, he is worse than useless in those new lands whore strength, manual labor, and capacity for looking after No. 1 ate the main essentials to success. Ivor had brains enough to succeed ; he was strong enough and willing enough, but totally ignorant of the merest outlines of what would bo required of him or what he was to expect. Had Lowe wished, he could have given Ivor no reliable advice on mining or agricultural matters. After his last remark-; the Jew remained silent for a while, then he suddenly asked Ivor : ' What are you going to do when you get out to the Cape ?' ' I am going up to the diamond fields — to Kimberley or Beaconsfield — to mine for dia monds.' ' As a member of a company ?' ' No ; on my own account.' ' Do you propose to prospect ?'' 'No. There is no necessity to do that, is there ?', Lowe laughed a short, unpleasant laugh, and said : ' It strikes me, young sir, that you don't know much about wkat you are in for.' After a considerable pause, Lowe spoke again : ' You .might just as well have stayed at home, my young friend, as go out to Kimber ley to mine for diamonds. You would make m ore at sweeping a crossing than yon will mining for diamonds. What could your people have been about ? Your only chance out there is share-broking. You can pick up a pretty pile at that if you are only sharp — yes, and drop it, too, if you don't keep your ?weather-eye open. Bless you, there are men at Kimberley who have made fortunes three and four times over, and lost them again. I

suppose you want to make money quick r ' Yes ; I suppose bo,' said Ivor. ' H'm, most people do ; and it's all because of their infernal hurry that they lose it all again. Are you going straight up to Kim berley P' inquired the Jew, casually. ' No ; I think Mr. Beausire and and I are going to spend a few days in Cape Town.' ' Ah, yes; you couldn't do better,' said the Jew, quickly ; and Ivor almost thought he detected a note of satisfaction. ' Take a little holiday while you can, for when you get to Kimberley you won't have much time to think of holidays. If you want to make money there, you must be on the spot. It is a bigger gamble than the Stock Exchange, and more continuous.' ' Is that the only way of making money up there now, then r' asked Ivor, in a tone of disappointment. , ' The only way of making a fortune. You can become a ' gaffer' to the niggers if yon like, or help in, a stoi*e, bnt you won't make much money at those games. You are much too late in the day if you think that you are going to drop into some nice snug little claim plug full of diamonds. Have you any concep tion of what the diamond fields ar.e like ?' ? 'No,' said Ivor, in rather a shamefaced way. i The Jew expectorated in a contemptuous manner, and said : ' Well if this isn't the softest thing ! What are your parents about young man ?' . ' I have no parents,' answered Ivor, coldly, ' and I am my-.own master.' ' Don't be huffed, young 'un. I don't mean to insult you, but you really ought to have found- out something about matters be fore yon started. I will just tell you how things are there. Yon are years behind the fail1. Don't you know that th e Kimberley mines is in the hands of one big company ; that they bought up all the original adven turers by degrees, and that now, instead of a number of separato claims, Kimberly mine is one vast hole belonging to that company ? Why you can't even see it without all sorts of formalities and 'permits;' and as for mining diamonds on your account, you couldn't do it to save your life. Where would you go? At Du Toit's Pan — what they call the Beacons field nowadays— -there are three companies who have the whole mine. Where else would go ? No sir ; what you've got to do if you want to mako money is to go in for share broking, and if you aren't a fool, just clear -Jut when you have made a comfortable pile, 6r you'll drop every penny of it, as sure as your name's Gwynne. It's tho most fascinat ing thing in the world, is sliare-brokino- in Kimberley. Do you know .anything of share broking?' . j Ivor had to confess that ho didn't. He yegan to feel that as far as knowledge of tho 'World went, he was as innocent as a baby compared with his self-constituted friend. I 'Well, its liko this,' said the Jew: and he entered into a cry and detailed account, of the mysteries of ' calls' and ' puts.' j Ivor iistened with attention, and because enthusiastic over the possibilities which opened before him. Ono thing only troubled him. The Jew, feeling his ground carefully, had ljunted at sharp practices of various kinds, which would hasten fortune, and Ivor had winced and said : '

'I presume that all the transactions are fair and aboveboard ?' ' In so far as any betting transaction is fair, share-broking at Kimberley is fair. It is tho biggest gamblo in the world, and if you don't keep your eyes open, yon will bo ' left' as sure as a gun. Times have been slack lately, but things havo began to boom again, and you stand a rare change of netting a ' pot.' ' ' Why don't you go in for broking ?' asked Ivor. The low, cunning leer overspread tho Jew's face again, and he answered : 'Buying and selling diamonds is a safor though slower methods of making money. Besides, I havo had enough of it. If lean manage the business I am going out for suc cessfully this time, I shall chuck the whole thing and settle in England.' Tho rest of the voyage was unoventful, and at dawn on an Atigust morning tlioy steamed into Tablo Bay. *

CHAPTER III. IVOIi's FJIiST IMPRESSIONS OF SOUTH AFRICA — MOSTLY PLEASANT. As they steamed into the bay Ivor saw the long lines of convicts filing out to their monotonous toil on the breakwater ; many a one of them men who had lived in good positions in the old country before tho glitter of diampnds had blinded their vision and their moral sense, and they had been con demned to ' the breakwator' for tho crime which is so summarily and hardly dealt with in South Africa. I. D. B. — as it is always called there — or illicit diamond buying, is the one crime for which no sympathy can be enlisted at tho Capo. An I. D. B., or an accessory before or after the fact, may rest assured that if he be arrested, his sentence will be ' fourteen years on the breakwater.' Ivor got this information from the quarter master, whom lie had asked how the labour for tho breakwater was obtained. Later he knew that the passion for those glittering stones had brought many a dainty woman to a convict's prison, and that, despite the unfail ing scntenco, I. D. B., was carried on with more or less success constantly. It struck him. as a curious illustration of the irony of fate that — as individuals — Englishmen should punish with such severity people who stole diamonds from a spot which they, as a nation had practically stolen from the Boers. . Justice has strange ways. Before they came in alongside tho .pier, ?Lowe came up to say good-bye to Ivor. ' Let me advise you to stay ten days or a fortnight in Cape Town, .Mr. Gwynne. Get yourself accustomed to the ways of the people a bit before you come up to Kimberley. Lcam all you can of the hang of politics, and get acquainted with the ups and downs of the share market. I am going straight to Kimberley, as my business is urgent.' ' What is your address ?' , ' I haven't got ono at Kimberley. I am in and out of the place constantly. Go to Mrs. Jardine's, the Queen's Hotel, and they'll tell you.', ' Do they know you there ?' 'Know me? I rather think they do. Why, ask any man you meet in Kimberley if he knows Moses Lowe, and he'll laugh at you. They know me as well as they know the pic ture of Queen Victoria or Bob M'Nab.' Ivor thanked him, and they parted. Ivor saw the Jew hurry away from the Custom House, followed by the two Jewish ladies, and he and Beausire went up to the International Hotel. Beausire had done his best to avoid Lowe's company on the ship after the first few days, and as they were going up to the hotel he said to' Ivor: ' I am glad we've got rid of that bounder, at any rate. What on earth made you take

to mm so, ivor r 'I didn't take to him, my dear chap — he took to me. He was useful enough in his way, and gave me a heap of information which would have taken me long enough to learn by experience. We shall meet him again at Kimberley.' 'H'mph! I should be very much inclined to mistrust his information. You mav de pend upon it, if it is worth anything, that you j will have to .pay for it, and pretty dearly, too, A Jew don't do anything gratuitously, as far as my little experience of them goes. If we do meet him at Kimberley, I, for one, don't mean to have much to do with him.' After they had seen all that was to be seen in Cape Town, and had visited Wynberg and other towns in the neighbourhood, Ivor suggested that they should start from Kim berley, as he was anxious^ to' begin to make money. ' Oh, there's heaps of time to make money later on. It's easy made here,' Beausire had answered. ' And as easily lost, so Lowe told me.' 'Bah! Everything that Lowe told you needn't be true; much more probably lies, coming from him. I should cut the connec tion, if I were you, Ivor ; it doesn't do you any credit, old chap.' 'Why are you so virulent against the man ? He put himself out of the way to bo pleasant to me.' ' Because I hate his class in general, rind this one in particular. I regard it as a posi tive insult that he should be so confoundedly like you.' Ivor laughed as he answered : ' That's all nonsense; tho man can't help his appearance any more than I can.' ' ' ' Then ho ought ^o.' ? 'We are getting away from the point, aud that is: Are yon coming .up to Kimberley now ?' ? ' No, I am not. I intend to wait hero till I get tired of it, which will probably bo in' three or four days, and then I will come with you.' _ ' All right. I will wait four more days, then we will start.' 't ' It is settled, I supposo, that we go into partnership up there?' Ivor hesitated for a moment,. and then said : 'Well, Beausire, I must ba frank with you. I came out here, as you know, in dead earnest. I mean' to work liko a galley-slave to make some kind of a fortune, and if we go into partnership I shall expect you to do the same. I have only something under two hundred pounds to put into the firm. I don't know what you have.' ' 1 11 put in whatever you do,' interposed Beausire.

' Very well ; but solely on condition that you do your sharo of tho work.' 'All right, old Man. I will do my .share of tho work, only we may as well have a ' spree' as long as we can.' , Ivor was not easy in his mind about this part nership. ? Ho knew that Beausire had at Cam bridge shown no capacity for work and all his time seemed to be taken up in considering how best to cnjo3r himself. Ivor had nothing in common with Beausire, whoso code of morals was very different from his, and yet ho felt that oven the small addition of capital with Beausiro could offer might just mako the different between success and failure ; and, moreover, thero was that feeling of Brother hood 'which collego life gives. If Boausire would only dovoto his attention to work, then he might bo of some sorvice; but Ivor had no idea of allowing liim to regard himsolf as a sleeping partner. (To ho continued.') All who have travelled by tho MesBageries Maritimes (French Mail) boats are loud in their praiBGB of tho comfort, civility, and excellent ouiBine met with. See list of sailings in these columns, and write, for particulars to Company's Office, Queen a Corner, Pitt-street, Sydney. I