Take Abraham Lawson as he stands there in a natural and unstudied attitude, 6 feet 4 inches in his stockings, wide-chested, stalwart, with a face like that of a Greek statue. Take Billy May, fair-haired, mild, insouciant, almost languid, till you see him at work. Then, again, Jack Windsor, handsome, saucy, and wiry as a bull-terrier and like him with strong natural inclination for the combat; good for any man of his weight, or a trifle over, with the gloves or without. It is curious to note how the old English practice of settling disputes with nature's weapons has taken root in Australia. It would 'gladden the sullen souls' of the defunct gladiators to watch two lads, whose fathers had never trodden England's soil, pull off their jackets and go to work "hammer and tongs," with all the savage silence of the true island type. It is now about seven o'clock. Mr Gordon moves forward. As he does so, every man leans towards the open door of the pen in front of which he stands. The bell sounds! With the first stroke each one of the seventy men has sprung upon a sheep--has drawn it out--placed its head across his knee--and is working his shears as if the "last man out" was to be flogged, or tarred and feathered at the least. Four minutes--James Steadman, who learned last year, has shorn down one side of his sheep; Jack Holmes and Gundagai Bill are well down the other sides of theirs; when Billy May raises himself with a jerking sigh, and releases his sheep, perfectly clean-shorn from the nose to the heels, through the aperture of his separate enclosure. With the same effort apparently he calls out 'Wool!' and darts upon another sheep. Drawing this second victim across his knee, he buries his shear-points in the long wool of its neck. A moment after a lithe and eager boy has gathered up fleece number one, and tossed it into the train-basket, the shearer is halfway down the sheep's side, the wool hanging in one fleece like a great glossy mat, before you have done wondering whether he did really shear the first sheep, or whether he had not a ready-shorn one in his coat-sleeve--like a conjuror.