“He came to his wife, and kissed her and the bairns with solemn, and, as I thought, with pathetic thankfulness.  I was afraid she would be sorely upset with the terrible events of the day, and I never closed my eyes that night, but sat up by her bedside lest she should take a bad turn; but she did not seem any the worse of it, and both her and the bairns got on brawly.  The loss of the sheep was no such great matter in these times, for there was so little market for them, that we had to boil them down for the sake of the tallow—­that could be sent to England.  Times were changed before I left the colony, for the diggings made a great demand for sheep and cattle to kill; but when I was up the country the waistrie of flesh was sinful to behold.  I have many a day sinsyne thought on the beasts and the sheep that were slaughtered there for the working men, and how the bits that they threw about or left on their plates might be a good dinner for many a hungry stomach in Scotland.

“Well, after I had been more than a year and a half at Mr. Phillips’s, my wages just running on as they had done at Mr. Brandon’s, and five pounds sent every quarter, as opportunity offered, for the bairns, I heard word of a cousin of William Lowrie’s coming out to Melbourne, to follow his trade of a stone-mason there, and I had a strong desire to see him, to ask after my orphans; for if my letters to them were but poor, the letters I got back were no better, so my heart was set on seeing Sandy Lowrie, who had lived close by, and knew the bairns well.  It chanced that Mr. Phillips had a man and his wife on the station at the time that had no family.  The man was nothing of a hand at work, but the wife was one of those bright, clever, cheery little Englishwomen that can turn hand to anything, and had such a fine temper—­nothing ever could put her out.  So, as she could do for the mistress as well as myself, I asked leave from the master and Mrs. Phillips to go to the town and see Sandy.  The mistress was fashious, for she did not like anybody about her to please themselves, and she had got used to me, as I said before; but the master was as reasonable as she was the contrary.

“He said to me, the day before I left, ’Peggy, I owe you a great debt.  You have saved the life of my wife and children.’

“‘Under Providence, sir,’ said I.

“‘Under Providence, of course,’ said he; ’but I fear Providence would have done little for them if Martha had been the only instrument Providence had at hand to use, so I am over head and ears in debt to you.’

“‘No, Mr. Phillips,’ said I, ’my work you have paid me well for; my kindness you have returned with kindness and consideration such as I never hoped to meet with in a strange land.  If I have nursed and cared for your children you have comprehended my love for my own poor bairns; and this permission to visit Melbourne, that I may hear about them, is a great favour, and one I will never forget to be grateful for.’