So I came to Rundle-street, No. 10. It was a butcher's shop then. My employer had been the shopman, and had bought the business from his employers, who had lived on the premises. Being a bachelor, he, too, lived there, and my duties were to attend to his needs and to those of his shopman, and some youths who slept on the premises, and to prepare plain meals for them. It was odd to me at first, for everything was upstairs, except the dining-room. The rooms were plainly furnished, and I had a lot of time to go out and in. There was no one to say an unkind word to me. My master had some brothers in a different business. They came frequently, and were so good to me that I claim them as friends to this day and will while I live.

I had the hope that I would live with my father and brother when they arrived. I understood my own intentions, but what would I have done then if I had thought that men could be so cruel—cruel as I find what the spirit of bitter cruelty is now. All the world seemed to me so true then. Although I was thousands of miles from every one who knows me or cares for me, all the time I felt so guarded and so happy in my efforts, and I had everything necessary for a decent and comfortable existence. The lady from Sunnyside would come out in her carriage and see how I was getting along, and some of my fellow-servants would come and see me. We could go up to a room and look out into Rundle-street. I was not at all lonely. And as the time went on, how I watched for that ship to come. It was expected to arrive about the middle of August, and not in hot weather like we had.

At last it was nearly due. I had engaged a house for them. It was small, and I had only taken it for a time. I had some of my shipmates to help me fix it up. I had to pay two weeks' rent before they landed, awaiting the arrival of the Art Union. I was there one morning, but the ship was a long way out in the bay. There being no railway from the Port, I walked along with my basket full of all sorts of things for them. It was so rough that no one would go out to where the ship was anchored, except the health officers. They went, and I waited until they came back, to learn if all was well on board. In the afternoon someone came with a boat, and told me if I did not think it too rough he would take me to the ship. It being decided that no one should be landed till the next day, I went out in the boat, and I never had such a rough time on the sea. When the boat got alongside the big ship it banged against the side and bounded out again ever so many times. I looked up and saw my dear brother. He was the first I saw. They let down the gangway, and my brother descended, and when the boat hove to again he caught me, and I got on the steps and soon found myself on the deck with all my kin once more. It was quite a year and a half since I saw them. My sister's little girl knew me, and held me by the skirts. I talked to my father. The dear man, how pleased I was to think that I had them all here, and I thought all my trouble was over, which, however, proved not to be the case.

The boat that I went out in came and went two or three times between the ship and the shore. I waited on deck, hoping for a calmness, so I could get them all to come ashore. My sister had a little baby girl that I had not seen before. She would not run the risk of being wrecked so near the beach, but my father and brother landed with me. How delighted my dear father was when he felt his feet on land again. We had to walk to the Port, and it was dark and cold. When we got to the station the last train had gone, and we had to get lodgings in the Port all night. I knew that at No. 10 they would do the best they could till I came. They all knew where I had gone, and were sympathetic. So I brought my brother and father to Adelaide, and showed them where the house was that I had taken for them, and they did not go into a house without something being provided for them. My master sent a man with a butcher's tray with the choicest of meat on it for them. He said that the burden I had to carry was too heavy for my young shoulders.

I was disappointed, and failed to see why my father would not settle in Adelaide. He wanted to go all over the place. My brother-in-law went to work at once in some blacksmith's shop, but my father and brother went up to Moonta. I had promised to go, and be their housekeeper when they got settled. But learning that Moonta was a mining place it got mixed in my mind with Slamannan. I could see that my father, at least, did not like South Australia. I thought that if I went from place to place with them I would be penniless and without a roof. Still, I felt sure that I must do what was right, even if I did not know where I was going. So I wrote and told them I would go to Moonta. Accordingly I went to the Port, and saw Captain Wells, of the steamship Eleanor. He went to Moonta regularly. I did not like leaving No. 10, Rundle-street. It was a very restless time. Captain Wells asked me a lot of questions, and told me he thought I would not like Moonta, if only because of the scattered thinness of the population. I got my trappings on board the Eleanor. I was the only girl passenger on board. In fact, there was no other woman at all. Captain Wells talked to me about bringing out the Eleanor all the way from England entirely, and fully under his own control. I then asked him if he knew Captain Matthews, who was the captain of the Morning Star, and he told me that he had known him in England. I thought Captain Wells just such another good man. He was kind to me, and saw that I was comfortable. He pointed out all the places, and told me the names. We saw Port Wallaroo and Port Wakefield. The Eleanor ran into Port Clinton, and there being no jetty, I got into a little boat. Then a horse and cart came into the sea a good long way, and I got out of the boat and into the cart, in which I got to land. I could not see any houses, but was told that there was one house at Port Clinton. A conveyance was there to take me to Kadina. It went no farther that day. I stopped at the Wombat Hotel, and how pleased I was to find one of my shipmates there as housemaid. I was covered with dust. It was my first experience of the country in Australia. In the morning some other kind of public vehicle carried me on to Moonta. I got there in the afternoon. My father and brother were waiting for me on the roadside. They did not live in Moonta township. Once more I was glad, realising that they had missed me, and were pleased to see me again.

My father worked at a building in Moonta, some large hotel, as a carpenter, and my brother, with some of his shipmates, was again in the mines. Just fancy his coming to Australia only to go in the mines again. Alas, for my castles in the air. There were scarcely any women or girls about, and particularly where we lived they were all mining men, many of them waiting for their wives and families, who had been sent for. Ever so many seemed to live in one or two little houses like the one we had. And just think of it! Some men had places dug in the ground and covered in some rough way. I used to feel so troubled. There was nothing that I could do except cook and take father's dinner into Moonta every day. The wee house we had had no garden attached to it, or anything bright about it, and there were only earth floors. The same kind of houses and buildings were everywhere, set down anyhow. Some end to end and some sideways. For the most part they were whitewashed. There were a lot of trees and scrub, and the worst of it was that my father was so uncomfortable about the heat, and reproached me for bringing him out to South Australia. My brother was nice, but it was a hard time for me. Tears would come as I tried to realise what it all meant. At last when we had been there about six months, father came home before dinner and told me that he was not going to work any more at Moonta, but was going with someone to Angaston, and that we were all going to that town. I did not know before that he had partly bought the house, but he said that he had sold it again. I admit that I was glad beyond words. So father arranged for my brother and me to return to Adelaide, and to take his tool-chest and all the movables while he fixed up about the house. It was not smooth and bright for me, as everything had gone wrong, and I feared that what had begun badly would go on badly. The truth crossed my mind, and a keen disappointment ensued, for I feared they would upset all that I had arranged for their benefit. I was not twenty years old, and anyway I was used to fitting myself into a work-woman. I could see people were sorry when I went away, and glad to see me again and I had not been badly treated as a servant.

We had to buy water and go and fetch it, and then it was condensed water. I felt glad when the time was fixed for leaving Moonta. I saw no evil. The people seemed frank and kindly, but the fewness of women made me miserable. I only saw three in the place where we were. Two elderly women and a younger woman. On the other hand, there were hundreds of men, and when I had to go anywhere it seemed as if I had to pass through a long procession of men. I was shy, but they were offenceless. How many times I have wished to see Moonta again, to see the progress that has been made. I thought my father so terribly foolish, and I was fond of him. He was comparatively a young man. Brother and I got on board the steamer and we arranged that we would stay with my sister till father came. We were both in doubt what we should do. Some mischance happened to our boxes, which left me in a state of hopelessness. We had a tool chest, which did not look large, but it was a great weight, and the man moving it did not know that, and somehow he let it fall into the little boat with such a force that it upset the boat, and the men and all our boxes were floating about in the sea. All our things were spoiled, and the tools as well.

My mind was made up I could not live in such a fashion and comply with the request to go to whatever place the others chose. So when I got to Adelaide again I told some ladies I knew that I would go to service again. And at once I was engaged to go to the Government farm for a month or six weeks, to be the attendant of Sir R. D. Ross, who had just married, or was on the eve of getting married, to Miss Baker. It is called the National Park now. It was very lonely. I was there a few days and nights before they came. The house was a little way from the principal buildings, that being the caretaker's place. An elderly man and his wife lived there. She was so deaf that she had to have a horn to her ear all the time. It was a beautiful place. There were two houses, one being called the old farm, and the other the new. All that I had to do was to keep good fires in the rooms to make them warm. It was cold weather. At last the bridal party arrived, and the lady brought a lady's maid with her. What a gentleman Sir Robert Ross was, and the lady, how gentle of manner! The troopers' horses were left on the farm to run when they were not wanted. They told me that from east to west the distance was nine miles of extended wood. That was the length of the "farm." I slept in the old farmhouse all by myself for nearly a week. In the daytime I never went far from the house for fear I would not find it again. I was taken there in a waggonette with a lady and gentleman. And they were afraid they would never find the place. It was almost dark when we got there, and the roads were not very distinguishable. The lady and gentleman did not stop all night, but the caretaker's wife showed me where I was to sleep. I slept, but I did not then think that I was all by myself in that large building, with nothing having life except the troopers' horses, the opossums, and the wild cats. When I got older I could not do such a thing.

Sir R. D. Ross and his lady were fond of horse-riding, and horses were brought for them. The Government farm was an ideal spot for a honeymoon then. It was just the sort of place to escape attention. During the rest of the time I enjoyed the friendship of the lady's maid, and we strolled together through the woods. She was a colonial, bright and full of adventure. Her name was Martha, and she fairly danced along like a wild bird. It was a great treat to me after my solitude at Moonta. Martha did not know whether her young mistress would settle here or not. For my part I hoped they would, and that they would think me likely to be serviceable to them. But such was not to be. Sir R. D. Ross had to go to Maoriland rather hastily. War was either in progress or some hostility with the Maories was contemplated, and he had some command in the military forces. He took his wife to New Zealand with him. The brightest is the fleetest. I was left alone at the Government farm. That would not matter, except that I shrank from going home. I was to stop for a week to put all the things in their place, and to leave it all tidy. Some goods were to be sent for from Morialta.

One evening while I was sitting in the verandah listening to the opossums, I heard a footstep and a cough. I was preparing to run to the caretaker's, when I found that it was my brother. He had been all day trying to find the farm. I was pleased to see him, and he wrote home and told our people that he would stay with me till I had finished there. He helped me a lot. He told me that father had taken a little workshop in Leigh-street, off Hindley-street, where he was doing some carpentering work. They went to and fro to my sister's house for meals. My brother was still young, and he felt bitterly upset. He recognised what I must feel, and that I was not happy with father. What a failure I had made! My brother told me not to fret, as I had done the best I could ever since he could remember. In a few days I packed up, and in two or three weeks I was on my way to the South-East.