on the plough is compelled to follow the furrow or to leave untouched many portions of the field which must in time produce tares or wheat. A faithful narrative may indeed fail to satisfy some persons;: but when has truth been told without giving umbrage? The history which does not aim at truth is despicable; and, whether neglected or popular, the narrative which, after careful research, describes things as they were and are, is the only one from which a writer ought to derive satisfaction. Such a narrative I have striven to put before my countrymen; so that, if they will, they may know what their kinsmen have done in the work of colonization in Australia. Conscious that, in spite of all pains taken to avoid error, so comprehensive a work cannot be free from defects, I part with it in confidence that I have spared no effort to secure accuracy. As I pen these lines I am beset with mingled memories of the land of cloud, and the land of sun. Close to Leith Hill Place, where I was born, I return from Australia after experiences of fifty years; and, seated in one of the most classic spots of my native county—the abode of John Evelyn,—I conclude the preface with which I commit to the public the last work which it can be my fortune to undertake.

Wotton House, Surrey,

30th July, 1883.