The Gilpins and their Fortunes | Page 2

you have, and I am not going to be influenced by him," answered
Withers.
James, however, was appealed to, and answered, "Even if we were to
live for ever in this world, I should agree with Arthur; for, from all I see
and hear, I am convinced that wealth cannot secure happiness; but as
this world is only a place of preparation for another, it is evident folly
to set one's heart upon what must be so soon parted with."
Withers made a gesture of impatience, exclaiming, "Come, come, I
won't stand any preaching, you know that; but we are old friends, and
so I don't want to quarrel about trifles, when we are so soon to separate!
You stick to your opinion, I will stick to mine, and we'll see who is
right at last."
"If this matter were a trifle I would not press it, but, because I am sure
that it is one of great importance, I do press it upon you most earnestly,
though, believe me, I am sorry to annoy you," said Arthur Gilpin.
"Oh! I dare say you mean well," answered Withers, in a contemptuous
tone. "But don't bother me again on the subject, there's a good fellow.
You, James, are so above me, that I don't pretend to understand what
you mean." Saying this with a condescending air, he shook hands with
the two brothers, and entered the house of his father, who was the
principal solicitor of the town.
The two Gilpins walked on towards their home. Their father possessed
a small landed property, which he farmed himself. He had a very
numerous family, and though hitherto he had been able to keep them
together with advantage, the time had arrived when some of them must
go forth to provide for themselves in the world. James and Arthur had
long turned their thoughts towards Australia, for which part of the
British possessions they were preparing to take their departure. Mr
Gilpin, or the squire, as he was called, was looked upon as an upright,
kind-hearted man. He was sensible, well educated, and a true Christian;
and he brought up his children in the fear and admonition of the Lord.

A year passed by: a long sea voyage was over, and James and Arthur
Gilpin stood on the shores of Australia. Two other brothers, with their
sisters, remained to help their father in his farm at home. James and
Arthur had left England, stout of heart, and resolved to do their duty,
hoping to establish a comfortable home for themselves and for those
who might come after them. Their ship lay close to the broad quay of
the magnificent capital of New South Wales. They had scarcely been
prepared for the scene of beauty and grandeur which met their sight as
they entered Port Jackson, the harbour of Sydney, with its lofty and
picturesque shores, every available spot occupied by some ornamental
villa or building of greater pretension, numerous romantic inlets and
indentations running up towards the north; while the city itself
appeared extending far away inland with its broad, well-built streets, its
numberless churches, colleges, public schools, hospitals, banks,
government buildings, and other public and private edifices, too
numerous to be mentioned.
The Gilpins, as they were put on shore with their luggage, felt
themselves almost lost in that great city. They were dressed in their
rough, every-day suits, and looked simple, hardworking country lads,
and younger than they really were.
Large as Sydney then was, it was still diminutive compared to what it
has since become. Founded by criminals, it was unhappily as far
advanced in crime and wickedness as the oldest cities of the old world,
though efforts were being then made, as they have ever since continued
to be made, and, happily, not without some degree of success, to wipe
out the stain. The two brothers stood for some time watching the
bustling scene before them. Huge drays laden with bales of wool were
slowly moving along the quay towards the ships taking in cargo, while
porters, and carts, with ever-moving cranes overhead, were rapidly
unloading other vessels of miscellaneous commodities. Irish, Negro,
Chinese, and Malay porters were running here and there; cabs and carts
were driving about, and other persons on foot and on horseback, mostly
in a hurry, evidently with business on their hands. There were, however,
a few saunterers, and they were either almost naked black aborigines,
with lank hair, hideous countenances, and thin legs, or men with their

hands in their pockets, in threadbare coats and uncleaned shoes, their
countenances pale and dejected, and mostly marked by intemperance.
Many of them were young, but there were some of all
ages--broken-down gentlemen, unprepared for colonial life, without
energy or perseverance, unable and still oftener unwilling to work. The