intervened. The 'Ellen' delivered them safely at Augusta, on October 5th, after a passing visit to the boys, hard at work building up a new farm on the Vasse. A few days later news reached Augusta that the Cumberland' had been lost, with all hands and all their goods from England, on the very evening she sailed from Swan River. The scene of the wreck was the south end of Garden Island. Fanny reports this last blow to Capel Carter: The fortunate (but that is a light term) the providential interference of Sir James Stirling prevented their embarking in so small a vessel and they (i.e. Mrs. Bussell and Mary) arrived in safety by the " Ellen " last Wednesday, the 5th of October. We have entertained but little hope for the "Cumberland's " safety, and this morning has totally destroyed the slender thread to which some of us still clung. She must have been lost the very evening she sailed from Swan River, and the crew and cargo have been equally unheard of. Of Mrs. McDermott, who certainly claims our first sympathies, we hear that she is wonderfully supported under this trial. Our own losses have been incalculable, but our darling mother and sister have been spared.'

Mary Bussell, new to the pioneers' ordeal, and betrothed to one in the homeland, gave way to doubts. From the Swan River she wrote to Capel: 'You can have no conception of the progress that has been made here, and I am sorry to say dear John has at last expressed regret that he was induced to go so far from headquarters. This has more than trebled his difficulties and outlay, which at this time is entirely lost, since from fire and other losses

*The wreck, when discovered, was found to have been plundered. Though the culprits were punished by transportation to Van Diemen's Land, the most valuable part of the cargo, the Bussell's family silver, was not recovered. See p. 49, infra.

he can only be considered a settler of a twelvemonth. This he says for himself. They have no stock of any kind. The cows and pigs have wandered into the bush. I am afraid you will think this a letter of horrors, but I think it best not to flatter those in England with too high expectations, don't you ?'

Many a time since has that excuse for their fears been urged by the downhearted.

To Fanny Bowker, by the same mail, she confided her lack of faith in the new venture at the Vasse. For my own part I am not very hopeful. With regard to other settlers and ships in general, I think they are out of the frying-pan into the fire. We cannot expect that the attention which was shewn to them at Augusta will be extended to them there. The one was formed by government, and the other is only private. But we must hope for the best, most sincerely. I wish while they had been on the move they had turned their attention to King George's Sound. It is indeed a most desirable spot.' Her opinion of the Sound, near which she was destined to spend her married life, was less rosy six months later, when she told Donald Alder of an official round of inspection by Governor Stirling. After the party left us (at Augusta) they went down to the Sound, where everything is going on as badly as it can. On their return they put into the Vasse. All pronounced that our darlings had the most beautiful grant throughout the whole colony, that the progress they have made is wonderful, and that in spite of all our losses, in a short time we shall be as forward as the best. "Nil desperandum" is our motto. We are always full of hope, and a brighter, happier group you would not find the whole world over.'

Alfred, from the midst of the hard work and spare living

at the Vasse which wrought such a change in Mary's spirits, commented to his mother on the news of the lost 'Cumberland.' 'So the vessel is actually lost. I had made up my mind for a silver fork, but never mind, a steel one is very good when a person is hungry.' And then on into details of what they had built and cleared at Cattle Chosen'.

IV

CONCERNING CHARACTER

AT the ebb tide of their fortunes little remained to the Bussells but land and tenacity of purpose. And the land on the Blackwood had now twice beaten them. John, however, proved himself a sane judge in his choice of the Vasse plains as the scene of a third venture, and at his call brothers and sisters rose gamely to a fresh effort. Their individual characters, diverse in many ways, brought to the joint task the common element of grit.

Charles, intellectually John's alter ego, and in imagination perhaps his superior, lacked the leader's initiative. In the details that make a pioneering life, he leant upon John. Take as example a message he sent from‘The Adelphi' to Augusta in 1832.

My dear John,-We greatly miss your pair of hands. Both the saws are at present useless, and the axe requires a handle. A sail needle is much wanted. Perhaps you could get one from Mrs. Molloy.* Alfred has lost the key of the

This letter was sent by John to his mother in England, as a specimen of Australian correspondence', and as a mild rebuke of her habit of sending models of 'European correspondence'. He added Mrs. Molloy has heard that I am sending a specimen of Australian correspondence, and sends me three notes which gallantry obliges me to copy; they are from Captain Molloy to her, written from our house, Augusta. Time, dinner.

I. My dear,

66 They wish me to drink out of an old black ugly tin pot! Send me the brown jug with the silver rim. J. M."

2. My dear,

3.

Send me some pepper. J. Molloy, Captain." 'My dear,

"Send us a tea-kettle. We have nothing but a frying-pan. J. M."'

blue chest. Pearce has broken the vice. Probably you could contrive to come up by some means and return with me at the end of the week.'

Four years later, when John was preparing to embark for England to bring out his bride, the general leaning upon him drew this expression from Fanny, writing to Capel Carter:

'I will try to hope for what is right, that my beloved John will be enabled soon to return to England, but we can ill spare him. He is the mainspring of the whole machinery, and I scarcely know how we shall continue in motion without him. Yet is he impatient to be off, and when I think how much depends on his voyage, I too am impatient to send him away. But I am grown a sad coward. My heart sinks at the idea of separation, and even the hope of his bringing with him an affectionate and amiable wife in our dear Sophia does not always sustain me. My little mother feels the same, but we throw no impediment in his way beyond those of necessity.'

John owed nothing of this ascendancy to his stature. Save Charles, who stood five feet ten, the Bussells were all short men, John being but five feet six in height. Brown-haired and blue-eyed, his easy and pleasant voice commanded respect and spread confidence. Age did not rob him of an intrepid spring in his step. A quiet humour, coming so easily as to win greater effect by surprise, served as foil to his evident tenacity.

In his description of himself as the colonist, stalking through the woods', written to Sophie Hayward exactly a year before the fire at 'The Adelphi', which he had just left (see Appendix, Item I, p. 155), the Byronic self-consciousness is a little too heavy for modern liking, perhaps. Be it so. The determination to go out into a