In November, the third spring month of the Australians, another despatch of greater weight and importance reached Mr. Neuchamp, who apparently was not hasting to quit the land of French cooks and Italian singers, of pleasant day saunterings, of cheerful lunch parties, and moonlight rambles by the murmuring sea. Mr. Banks had the distinguished honour of entertaining Mr. Levison, but lately returned from Melbourne, and engaged in starting two or three thousand head of fat cattle for that market. He had come round by Rainbar, he said, on purpose to take delivery of the Freemans‘land, but he, Charley Banks, thought it more likely that he wanted to see old ‘BI’ (who looked splendid, with a crest like a lion), and whom he rode away in triumph. He handed over the deeds of all the Freemans‘conditional purchases to him to give to Mr. Neuchamp, saying that he hoped he wouldn’t do that sort of thing again, as he might not come out of it right another time. Mr. Banks further related that he had volunteered as his deliberate opinion, from what he had noticed about the Victorian gold mines, that the yield of gold would last many years, during which time stock would continue to be high in price, although there might be temporary depressions. As a consequence of which state of things, the sooner every one bought all the store stock they could lay hands on the better. ‘“My word,” he said, “it was a lucky drop-in—not for them though—that I picked you up those Freeman cattle, not to speak of the ‘circle dots.’ There will be no more eight-and-sixpenny store cattle, or fifteen-bob ones either—two pounds for cows, and fifty shillings and three pounds for good steers and bullocks will be more like it, and they will pay at that price too. But what I want you to tell Mr. Neuchamp is this. I’d write to him, but I’m in a hurry off, and you can do it quite as well, if you’re careful and attend to what I tell you. ‘“I’ve just had information that the Sydney people who have got the agency of the Mildool run, that joins you, are going to sell. They’ve got it into their wise heads that cattle have seen their top, because they’re worth five pounds all round, that is, with stations; and because they’re old-fashioned Sydney-siders that never heard of such a price since the days when they used to bring buffaloes from India. ‘“They believe that Victoria is choke-full of Yankees and diggers, stowaways and emigrants, and that the whole thing will ‘bust up’ directly, and let down prices everywhere to what they were before the gold.