Polly was sent to this country for trying to poison her uncle and aunt to get their money. She had not been long in the Settlement before she became intimate with a man who was sent from Sydney for having sore legs. One day she quarrelled with this fellow, and, when night came on, she attempted to commit suicide by taking a dose of oxalic acid. The poison was taken shortly before retiring to bed, when she laid out a number of clean underclothes on a table in the servants' room, and said to her mate: "Sarah, to-night when I'm dead, I want you to put these clothes on me; I had a row with Jack to-day, and I've taken some oxalic acid, as I don't wish to live any longer." Sarah was thunder-stricken at this state of affairs, and when she recovered herself, said: "You big fool; I would not poison myself for all the sore-legged brutes in the world." She then went and told the boss of the hotel all the circumstances, and in a few minutes the whole house was in a state of confusion. The doctor arrived, and the police also came on the scene. The former took the necessary steps to extract the poison from her, while the latter inquired into the circumstances and "wet their whistle." After a few days Polly got better, and was then sent to the lock-up for a week for being silly. Afterwards she returned to the hotel, and made it up with the rotten-legged man--both the servants then getting into their usual habit of going out at night to meet their sweethearts. One night the boss forbade them to go out, as his wife was ill with an abscess on her arm. They, however, would not be baffled after making an appointment, so they dressed up two "dummies," and affixed a melon with a night-cap on as a head-piece for each, giving anyone the impression at first sight that they were both in bed and asleep. Towards the middle of the night the boss went to their door and called them, as his wife's arm was very painful, and she wanted another poultice made for it. He got no answer, so opened the door, looked in, and believed both of them to be asleep. Finally, he walked over and shook one of them, but when one of the night caps rolled off, and the melon became exposed to view, his language of flowers was not choice. CHAPTER XIII. SOME PRACTICAL JOKES. "A little devilment now and then, Is indulged in by the best of men." --ANON.