One of the greatest matters of interest to the bushman, who has loved relations in the old country, is the arrival of the post. Often with trembling, always with eager, hands the packets are opened; sometimes they give satisfaction, and afford subjects for pleasant conversation for many a day; but at others, and too often, they bring news to grieve the hearts of their readers. Such had been the case with the Gilpins, some time back, when a letter with a broad black border arrived, and told them of the death of a father they had so much reason to reverence and love. Several changes had taken place in their family circle. Their eldest brother had married; and their two sisters seemed doubtful, when they last heard from home, whether or not they should continue to reside with him.
The two brothers were sitting together in their nicely furnished dining-room. The dark wainscoting and the proportions of the apartment reminded them of the one they had loved so well in their far-off home in the old country. A dray had just arrived from the west, and Green made his appearance with the letter-bag in hand. Eagerly the contents were glanced over.
“Arthur, they are coming—both the dear girls, Jane and Susan—and Willie as an escort!” exclaimed James, in a tone of great satisfaction.
“Oh! it will be delightful. How pleased Fanny and Emily will be!” cried Arthur.
Indeed, no event could by possibility have caused the brothers more true pleasure; and, as may be supposed, it formed the subject for conversation for the remainder of the evening and for many evenings afterwards. Of course it was necessary for James to ride over to Prentiss Town to announce the event.
“As soon after they arrive as it can be arranged,” was the reply made by Fanny to a question put to her during his visit. It seemed highly satisfactory, and was received with strong marks of gratitude.
When James returned home, Arthur was not happy till he could set off to Prentiss Town. He must have put a question to Emily, not unlike that which James put to Fanny.
“Perhaps the same day that my sister is,” was her reply.
Not long after, James set off for Sydney. Arthur would gladly have gone also, but what with their own flocks and herds, and the numerous ones over which they had charge, it was, they thought, scarcely fair to Craven to leave him so long alone. Of late, too, there had been reports of wonderful discoveries of gold—nuggets to rival those of California; and some of the shepherds and stockmen had already gone off to the region where the gold was reported to have been found, and it was feared that others might follow. James had not been in Sydney since his first arrival in the country. The whole city was in a ferment. There was no doubt of the truth of the reports of the discovery of gold, not only in one, but in several directions. Nuggets of all sizes and heaps of gold-dust had already been brought in. The gold fever had commenced, and men of all ages, ranks, and professions were fitting themselves out with knapsacks, spades, washers, and other apparatus for the gold-fields. People were surprised that James took matters so calmly. “I prefer that others should dig for me—an occupation for which I never had a fancy, except for an hour or two in my garden in a morning,” he answered. “If people rush out of the colony, as it is expected they will, the price of stock will rise very greatly, and I shall have ample fortune for all my wishes.” It did rise, far higher than he expected, and he was not disappointed. His heart throbbed with anxiety as he went down to the harbour to visit the ship on board which his sisters had taken their passage. He singled them out among a large number of passengers, though they did not recognise the strongly built, bearded, and well-browned man as their brother, who had left them a fair, slight youth a few years before. News of the gold discoveries had reached England some time before the ship sailed, and a great number of her passengers were intended gold-diggers—a mixed and ill-matched assemblage, all inspired, however, with the one ruling passion, an eager to grow rich suddenly. There were young men—still mere lads—who had time before them to make themselves independent by steady industry; and old men who, it might be supposed, had little else to do than to prepare for another world. There were nominal representatives of all religious faiths, but drawn together to worship one god—Mammon, yet not as brethren, for each seemed eager to supplant the other. The Miss Gilpins told their brother that the universal subject of conversation during the voyage was gold, gold-digging, gold-washing, gold-scraping.
“Like the old man in the ‘Pilgrim’s Progress’ with his muck-rake, always scraping with downcast looks, never gazing upwards,” remarked James. “Ah! it is sad work; and yet, when a person gets down in the world, and feels the want of the wealth he once possessed, it must be a severe trial to him to prevent his mind from continually dwelling on the means by which he may regain it.”