The ship’s stern is then hauled round to the third outside buoy, and the compasses being again examined, she is next hauled round to the fourth buoy. Her head by this time has been north, east, south, west; on each point the deviations of her compasses have been tested, noted, and the card shows their character and proper adjustment. _The ship has been swung._ Science has done its best for her, and the word is given to heave anchor, for she is now truly “Ready for Sea.” AN EXPLORING ADVENTURE. The Litany of a Bushman on the Borders might well run, “From native dogs, from scabby sheep, from blacks, from droughts, from governors’ proclamations, good Lord, deliver us.” The droughts come in their appointed season, and the day will be, when wells and tanks and aqueducts will redeem many a part from the curse of periodical barrenness: the blacks soon tame or fade before the white man’s face; unfortunately the seat of the native dogs, and home-bred or town-bred governing crotchets are more plentiful in long settled than new found countries. At any rate, I have experienced them all, and now give the following passage of my life for the benefit of the gentlemen “who live at home at ease,” hatching theories for our good—Heaven help their silliness! I had been two years comfortably settled with a nice lot of cattle and sheep, part my own, part on “thirds,” when the people south of me began to complain of drought. _I_ had enough feed and water; the question was, whether it would last. I called my bullock-driver, Bald-faced Dick, into consultation. He was laid up at the time with a broken leg. Dick strongly advised looking for a new station “to the nor’ard.” The sheep would do for months, but he thought we were overstocked with cattle. I had a good deal of confidence in Dick’s judgment; for he was a “first fleeter,” that is, came over with Governor Phillips in the first fleet; had seen everything in the colony, both good and bad; had, it was whispered, in early years fled from a flogging master, and lived, some said, with the blacks; others averred with a party of Gully-rakers (cattle-stealers); he swore horridly, was dangerous when he had drunk too much rum, but was a thorough Bushman; by the stars, or by sun, and the fall of the land, could find his way anywhere by day or night, understood all kinds of stock, and could make bullocks understand him. He knew every roving character in the colony, the quality of every station, and more about the far interior than he chose to tell to every one. With all his coarseness, he was generous and good-natured, and when well paid, and fairly and strictly treated, stood upon “Bush honour,” and could be thoroughly depended on. Having had an opportunity of serving him in a rather serious matter previous to his entering my service, I was pretty sure of his best advice.