years than meeting old friends and recalling adventures of Australian days. The passage of time could not obliterate from his memory the long hot days spent in the saddle and the nights sitting round the camp fire exchanging yarns and singing the favourite camp chorus, "Rise up, William Riley."
It was a free, happy life, full of hard work and adventure with such amenities as the occasional "Grand Ball" the nearest township would provide. H. H. could recall one such gathering, to which he rode a two days' journey in order to be present. The squatters and their wives drove in from miles around, and all went well until the middle of the evening when a tragedy occurred. One of the guests suddenly fell dead in the ball-room. The evening broke up in shocked silence and horror.
On the following day, which happened to be Sunday, service was held at the largest station by a clergyman who was making his annual visit through the district. An unusually large congregation was present owing to the painful impression created on every one's mind by the shocking occurrence of the night before. Taking as his text "In the midst of life we are in death," the clergyman preached a striking sermon, which moved the greater part of his audience to tears.
The next morning, having heard that H. H. was travelling in his direction, the clergyman proposed that they should bear each other company. For three weeks they rode together from station to station, and to his alarm H. H. found he was compelled to listen to the same sermon on each occasion. Naturally his sense of pathos had by this time given way to sheer impatience, and he told the clergyman frankly that
