I made a slight attempt at acquaintanceship by assisting to fill her pitcher, which was far too heavy, when full of water, for so slight a child to carry, and pointing to the rise of ground on which the tents stood, I inquired if she lived among them. She nodded her head in token of assent. "And have you been long here? and do you like this new country?" I continued, determined to hear if her voice was as pleasing as her countenance. "No!" she answered quickly; "we starve here. There was plenty of food when we were in England;" and then her childish reserve giving way, she spoke more fully of her troubles, and a sad though a common tale it was. Some of the particulars I learnt afterwards. Her father had held an appointment under Government, and had lived upon the income derived from it for some years, when he was tempted to try and do better in the colonies. His wife (the daughter of a clergyman, well educated, and who before her marriage had been a governess) accompanied him with their three children. On arriving in Melbourne (which was about three months previous), he found that situations equal in value, according to the relative prices of food and lodging, to that which he had thrown up in England were not so easily procured as he had been led to expect. Half desperate, he went to the diggings, leaving his wife with little money, and many promises of quick remittances of gold by the escort. But week followed week, and neither remittances nor letters came. They removed to humbler lodgings, every little article of value was gradually sold, for, unused to bodily labour, or even to sit for hours at the needle, the deserted wife could earn but little. Then sickness came; there were no means of paying for medical advice, and one child died. After this, step by step, they became poorer, until half a tent in Little Adelaide was the only refuge left.