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 ^'
 
 
 AUSTRALIAN LIFE 
 BLACK AND WHITE
 
 AUSTRALIAN LIFE 
 
 BLACK AND WHITE 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. CAMPBELL PRAED 
 
 Author of ' ' Nadine," ' ' Zero,'" ' ' Moloch, ' ' 
 ^^ An Australian Hei'oine,'^ &^c. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL 
 
 Limited 
 
 1885
 
 LONDON : 
 
 R. Clay, Sons, and Taylor, 
 
 BREAD STREET HILL.
 
 
 SKETCHES 
 
 OF 
 
 AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Fast steamboats and new mail routes 
 have brought the Australian colonies into 
 comparatively intimate relations with the 
 mother-land; and in these days of "globe 
 trotting," when every fifth man one meets 
 has "gone round the world," it is usual 
 enough to find that the tour has comprised 
 visits to the Australian capitals and perhaps 
 a little mild rouofhinsf it on some cattle or 
 sheep station within easy distance of rail or 
 hiofh road. 
 
 The inquiring tourist of to-day who wishes 
 to gain personal knowledge of life at the 
 
 4GS816 
 
 LIB SETS
 
 2 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 Antipodes, has a fairly smooth path before 
 him. He is usually armed with letters 
 of introduction to various macrnates in the 
 colonies he proposes to visit ; and, arrived 
 there, is thus made free of Government 
 House, provided with passes upon the rail- 
 ways, and feted and lionised in the towns, 
 where he probably spends most of his time 
 and where he observes with a little surprise 
 that social observances differ in no marked 
 respect from those in England. In the 
 Bush, life is still made pleasant to him. 
 Wild horse - hunts, kangaroo battues, and 
 camping out expeditions, are organised for 
 his amusement ; and performances of mus- 
 tering, cattle drafting, and such like mysteries 
 of stock-keeping, rehearsed for his instruction. 
 Or he may go further, even beyond the 
 bounds of civilisation. He may spend a 
 month or so on the Diggings, do an over- 
 land ride, or experience the hardships of 
 residence on a northern run, and then go 
 home with a sufficiently correct idea of 
 Australia as it is. But his impressions are
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 3 
 
 after all, only those of an outsider, and 
 under any circumstances he can form but 
 an imperfect picture of Australia as it zvas 
 — in the early days of pioneering, when 
 Queensland, then Moreton Bay, was a small 
 penal settlement, when convicts and bush- 
 rangers abounded, and many a white man 
 went west or north, and never returned to 
 tell the tale of outrage and murder by ^nyall ' 
 Blacks. 
 
 There were no roads then from one colony 
 to another. Only the coast-line had been 
 explored. It was known that New Holland 
 stretched over 2,500 miles from east to west, 
 and nearly that distance from north to south ; 
 but it could only be conjectured that beyond 
 the inhabited, or rather habitable, rim, ex- 
 tending- inland some two or three hundred 
 miles, lay a vast Sahara fatal to man and 
 beast. 
 
 The squatters of those times were, as 
 might be supposed, a brave, reckless band. 
 Quick to love and quick to hate, full of pluck 
 ^ Myall Blacks, the wild aborigines. 
 
 B 2
 
 4 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 and endurance, dauntless before danger, iron 
 in physique and nerve, and ready for any 
 difficult or dare-devil feat, their adventures, 
 escapes, practical jokes, and carouses, would 
 have furnished rich material to an Australian 
 Lever or Fenimore Cooper. 
 
 A party of these young men, mostly 
 cadets of English and Irish families, some, 
 undergraduates of Oxford and Cambridge, 
 some, sons of soldiers with no fortune but 
 that which their own energy might make 
 for them, all resolute and keen after adven- 
 ture and exploration, left Sydney and pushed 
 north into the country which is now known 
 as Queensland. The Government, eager to 
 encourage a free population, gave extensive 
 grants of land to the pioneers ; and hitherto 
 undiscovered country was thrown open. The 
 first stockman on horseback seemed to the 
 Blacks a kind of centaur. They took him 
 for a new species of animal, and he was 
 afterwards known among his companions by 
 the sobriquet of Yarraman Dick — yarraman 
 being the native word for horse. Beyond a
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 5 
 
 certain range of mountains there was no 
 law. As in the days of Abraham and Lot, 
 the first occupants of the land stoutly 
 maintained their exclusive riofht to the 
 grass and water, and were engaged in 
 constant squabbles with the new-comers. 
 Then legislation stepped in, granted licenses 
 and defined boundaries. A Land Commis- 
 sioner was appointed who ruled the district 
 with a rod of iron. Many will remember 
 "King Tom" and his factotum, familiarly 
 styled " Unbranded Kelly." For, in those 
 times, all animals which at the age of twelve 
 months, were still unbranded, became by law 
 the property of the Crown, and were im- 
 pounded and sold. Kelly, with a company 
 of policemen and black boys, used to make 
 raids upon the Stations, and bring in triumph 
 to the Pound all the unbranded calves he 
 could collect. 
 
 A certain buxom dame reigned as house- 
 keeper over the somewhat grandly conducted 
 establishment of the Commissioner. Report 
 said that she ruled the Commissioner also.
 
 6 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 It was she who became the owner of the 
 confiscated animals. No one dared to bid 
 against her at the Pound, and the cattle fell 
 to her for a mere trifle. 
 
 At first the natives retreated before the 
 whites ; and, except that they every now and 
 then speared a beast in one of the herds, 
 gave little cause for uneasiness. But, as the 
 number of squatters increased, each one 
 taking up miles of country and bringing 
 two or three men in his train, so that 
 shepherds' huts and stockmen's camps lay 
 far apart, and defenceless in the midst of 
 hostile tribes, the Blacks' depredations be- 
 came more frequent and murder was no 
 unusual event. 
 
 The loneliness of the Australian bush can 
 hardly be painted in words. Here extends 
 mile after mile of primaeval forest where 
 perhaps foot of white man has never trod 
 — interminable vistas where the eucalyptus 
 trees rear their lofty trunks, and spread forth 
 their lanky limbs, from which the red gum 
 oozes and hangs in fantastic pendants like
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 7 
 
 crimson stalactites ; ravines along the sides of 
 which the long- bladed grass grows rankly ; 
 level untimbered plains alternating with un- 
 dulating tracts of pasture, here and there 
 broken by a stony ridge, steep gully, or 
 dried-up creek. All wild, vast, and desolate ; 
 all the same monotonous grey colouring, 
 except where the wattle when in blossom 
 shows patches of feathery gold, or a belt 
 of scrub lies green, glossy, and impenetrable 
 as Indian jungle. 
 
 The solitude seems intensified by the 
 strange sounds of reptiles, birds, and insects, 
 and by the absence of larger creatures ; of 
 which, in the daytime, the only audible signs 
 are the stampede of a herd of kangaroo, or 
 the rustle of a wallabi or dinofo stirrinor the 
 grass as it creeps to its lair. But there are 
 the whirring of locusts, the demoniac chuckle 
 of the laughing jackass, the screeching of 
 cockatoos and parrots, the hissing of the 
 frilled lizard, and the buzzing of innumera- 
 ble insects hidden under the dense under- 
 growth. And then, at night, the melancholy
 
 8 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 wailing of the curlews, the dismal howling of 
 dingoes, the discordant croaking of tree-frogs, 
 might well shake the nerves of a solitary 
 watcher. 
 
 Each stockman's hut stood by itself in 
 a clearing, leagues distant from any other 
 dwellino- and as far as miorht be from the 
 nearest scrub, in the thickets of which the 
 Blacks could always find an unassailable 
 stronghold. The hut was built of logs and 
 slabs, the roof of bark ; the fireplace was 
 a small room with a wide wooden chimney. 
 Shutters there were, and a door, but locks 
 were unknown, and bolts and bars were of 
 the most primitive description. The settler 
 depended for safety upon the keenness of 
 his hearing, the excellence of his carbine, 
 and the Blacks' superstitious dread of dark- 
 ness, which makes them averse to leaving 
 their camp except on moonlight nights, or 
 with an illumination of burninQ^ firesticks. 
 
 At the Nie Nie station, one dark night, 
 the unsuspecting hutkeeper, having as he 
 believed secured himself arainst assault, was
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. g 
 
 lying wrapped in his blanket sleeping pro- 
 foundly. The Blacks crept stealthily down 
 the chimney and battered in his skull with 
 a niilla-nulla while he slept. 
 
 This murder was followed by others. The 
 squatters of the neighbourhood assembled 
 and made an ineffectual raid. They found 
 only deserted camps. The Blacks had fled 
 into a wild precipitous region at the head 
 of several rivers, where broken gorges, 
 caves, and ravines afforded them an almost 
 impregnable refuge. Later, some of the 
 supposed ringleaders were taken by a de- 
 tachment of mounted police and solemnly 
 led to Sydney for trial. The formalities of 
 the law were duly observed ; but identifi- 
 cation being a dif^culty — for the Black 
 clothed and in a prisoner's dock can seldom 
 be conscientiously sworn to as the naked, 
 pipeclayed, tattoed savage seen in the heat 
 of encounter — the crime could not be legally 
 proven, and the case fell through. The 
 prisoners were released ; there was a re- 
 action in their favour ; they were laden with
 
 lo Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 beads, tomahawks, and other acceptable 
 presents, and returned to their tribe ex- 
 uhant. " My word ! " said the dusky 
 criminals, after this their first peep at 
 civilisation ; " Blackfellow nangery along a 
 gaol. That corbon budgery. Plenty patter, 
 plenty blanket. No coolla, budgery play 
 about." ^ And they were quite impressed 
 with the notion that in the event of war 
 between Blacks and Whites " that big fellow 
 Gubbernor along a Sydney " would hang 
 the White man and let the Black go 
 free. 
 
 The absurdity of dealing with savages by 
 our code is manifest. Their law is that any 
 one individual in a tribe may be held re- 
 sponsible for the misdemeanours of any 
 
 1 Na?ige7y, 
 
 stay. 
 
 Corbon bndi^^ery, 
 
 very good, 
 
 Fatter, 
 
 food. 
 
 Coolla, 
 
 angry. 
 
 The BlackfcUows stayed in gaol. That is a very good 
 place. There was plenty of food ; plenty of blankets ; 
 no one was angry ; and there was a good deal of 
 amusement.
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 1 1 
 
 other member of the same tribe. Thus 
 punishment inflicted in a somewhat pro- 
 miscuous fashion would not have offended 
 against their sense of justice. 
 
 The squatters of the north rose up in fury, 
 and swore that their chums should not be 
 slain and their cattle scattered without 
 vengeance being taken upon the aggressors. 
 They armed, rode forth and surrounded the 
 camp, killing some of the natives and taking 
 many prisoners. Maddened with bloodshed 
 and thirsting for revenge, they built up 
 a great pile of wood, slaughtered their 
 prisoners — men, women, and children — and 
 hurling the scarcely lifeless bodies upon the 
 pile, set it on fire. 
 
 The affair was reported at head-quarters. 
 A band of police was sent up, and seven of 
 the settlers were brought to Sydney, tried 
 for murder, found guilty, and sentenced to 
 death. Party feeling ran high in Sydney. 
 Mr. Wentworth, pleading for the accused, 
 and at daggers drawn with Mr. Plunkett, the 
 Attorney-General, hotly defied the Govern-
 
 12 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 ment to carry out the sentence. Mr. Plunkett, 
 determined upon the defeat of his adversary, 
 swore that not only should these men be 
 hanged, but that any white man who could 
 be proved to have killed a blackfellow not 
 in self-defence should be held guilty of 
 murder. New South Wales was then a 
 crown colony, and the Attorney-General, 
 officially a member of the Council, had great 
 power. The seven men were executed, and 
 while in office Mr. Plunkett carried out his 
 threat to the best of his ability. He was 
 detested by the squatters, and the wish was 
 frequently expressed in language more forci- 
 ble than becoming, that the Attorney-General 
 could change places for six months with a 
 shepherd upon the Myall Creek. 
 
 When the Blacks heard that seven white 
 men had been hanged for the Myall Creek 
 fray, they grew more and more daring. 
 It was their custom after each outrage to 
 shelter themselves in the broken country 
 before mentioned, which was called The 
 Falls, only issuing forth to commit further
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 13 
 
 depredations. The Government became 
 alive to the necessity for action. A body 
 of mounted poHce, formed of picked men 
 from the different regiments then in Sydney, 
 who did special service among the bush- 
 rangers, was sent to punish and drive the 
 Blacks from their stronghold. A fine corps 
 it was, under the command of a certain 
 Major Munn, a dark, handsome, aristocratic- 
 featured man, as popular in drawing-rooms 
 as he was unpopular among bushrangers, 
 who looked an imposing figure on his grand 
 grey charger, and stuck at nothing, being 
 ready to meet the Blacks' treachery with 
 guile, and fearing no foe on open field. 
 Many were the tales told by camp fires 
 of the exploits of Major Munn and his 
 followers. 
 
 Several natives were enlisted in the band. 
 One, a small black boy, a good tracker, led 
 the soldiers to the stronghold of the tribe. 
 The Blacks were caught in a gorge, from 
 which their only outlet was by a waterfall. 
 The troopers fired down into the camp, and
 
 14 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 then rushed upon their prey. Many natives 
 were killed, some in leaping down the 
 precipice ; but few escaped. After the fray 
 the black guide came up to Major Munn 
 and proudly exhibited his blood-stained 
 sword. " My word ! " cried he, with an 
 impish laugh which showed all his glistening 
 teeth, " corbon budgery this long fellow 
 knife. Plenty mine been mumkull ole fellov/ 
 mammy belonging to me. I been marra 
 cobra along a that ole woman." ^ 
 
 The boy was exulting in having cut off 
 his own mother's head. 
 
 In this irregular warfare, formalities were 
 usually dispensed with, but upon occasions 
 they were observed after a somewhat lu- 
 dicrous fashion. There Is in the breast 
 of every Englishman a rooted aversion to 
 shooting- a human being- in cold blood which 
 struggles with the instinct of Uie sportsman. 
 One day Major Munn and his party were 
 
 i " My word, this is a very good long knife. I have 
 killed my old mother. I took off the old woman's 
 head."
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 15 
 
 riding back to the camp after a long and, 
 so far, fruitless man hunt. Suddenly the 
 foremost of the band espied a blackfellow, 
 who, hoping to escape the observation of 
 the dreaded " Marmi " (chief of the police), 
 had climbed into the fork of a hifrh <^v\w\ 
 tree. 
 
 The sergeant reported to the Major 
 " Blackfellow up a tree, sir." 
 
 " Order him down," said the Major. 
 
 " I have done so," replied the sergeant. 
 " He won't come, and we cannot climb 
 the tree." 
 
 " Go again," said the Major ; " order him 
 down three times in Her Majesty's name." 
 
 "And supposing Her Majesty don't fetch 
 him," said the sergeant. 
 
 " Then bring him downl' grimly answered 
 Major Munn. 
 
 The sergeant advanced with carbine 
 pointed. " I say, you nigger, come down 
 in the Queen's name. 
 
 " Baal mumkull" [do not kill me], shrieked 
 the aboriginal in abject terror, not under-
 
 1 6 Sketches of A^istralian Life. 
 
 standing one word of English, and realising 
 only that he was in peril of his life. 
 
 Said the sergeant, " I orders you again 
 in the Queen's name to come down." 
 
 Still piteous cries of " Baal, Baal." 
 
 " I orders you a third time in the Queen's 
 name to come down," repeated the sergeant. 
 " Then, if you ain't a-going to obey Her 
 Majesty's orders, I must obey mine." 
 
 His hand was upon the trigger. A shot, 
 a thud, and the "big game" fell at his feet. 
 
 There is a story of a black trooper, who 
 on his own responsibility brought his man 
 down. Having omitted the formula, he 
 exclaimed, as the "game" fell, 
 
 " Tsch ! Tsch ! Altogether mine lose him 
 Queen's name " [I quite forgot to say "In the 
 Queen's name "]. Then, a happy idea strik- 
 ing his brain — it being quite immaterial to 
 him whether the incantation, as he con- 
 sidered it, were addressed to the living or 
 dead — he cried : " Come down in Queen's 
 name one time." " Come down in Queen's 
 name two time." " Come clown in Queen's
 
 Sketches of Atistralian Life. ij 
 
 name three time." " That budgery now ' 
 (that's all right now). 
 
 There is among the Australian Blacks 
 no sentiment of honour, loyalty, or of the 
 obligations of kindred. They are treacherous 
 and time-serving, and the native tracker is 
 always the most bloodthirsty in a fray, and 
 the keenest in hunting down those of his 
 own tribe. 
 
 A stratagem, conducted on the principle 
 of "Set a thief to catch a thief," brought 
 the little campaign to a close. It had 
 lasted for some time ; the tribe had been 
 hunted hither and thither, and the remain- 
 Inof ri no-leaders had hidden themselves in 
 broken country extremely difficult of access. 
 The native police under white officers 
 had been out for several days upon a fruit- 
 less search, and were about to leave that 
 part of the district. Towards sundown 
 they came upon a track which led them 
 to the borders of a scrub. It was now 
 time to camp, and the troopers went forth 
 in search of a bandicoot for supper. One 
 
 c
 
 i8 Sketches of Aiistralian Life. 
 
 of them heard in the distance the sound 
 of a tomahawk, and following its guidance 
 came unseen upon a wild Black chopping 
 an opossum out of a hollow tree. The 
 trooper watched him to the camp ; then, 
 after consulting with his own mates, went 
 to their chief 
 
 " Marmi," said he. " You pidney, plenty 
 boy been woolla. Metancoly myall Black 
 nangry camp. Suppose Marmi you directly 
 
 blackfellow mel. No good boots, too much 
 
 " 1 
 noise. ^ 
 
 The boy then suggested that he and 
 
 his companions should take off their clothes, 
 
 steal down to the Myall's camp, and with 
 
 their rifles lie there concealed till dawn, 
 
 " Then,'' continued he, excitedly, " murrai 
 
 early, when Myall first wake up, close up 
 
 ogle eye that fellow. Euroka baal get up. 
 
 He make him fire. Then black boy mel- 
 
 ^ "Marmi, you understand, these boys have been 
 talking over the matter ; there are a great many Myall 
 Blacks at the camp. If you go, they will see you 
 directly. Your boots make too much noise."
 
 Sketches of A^istralian Life. 19 
 
 mel, shoot along a daloopil, and I believe 
 plenty catch him." [Very early when the 
 Myall first awakes it is nearly dark. The 
 sun is not risen. They make their fire. 
 Then we boys see them, and shoot them 
 with our guns.] 
 
 The plan was adopted. At early morn 
 it was dark and cold, and the fires had 
 burned out during the night. Though the 
 stars were still shining there was already 
 a chorus of magpies, the laughing jackasses 
 were saluting day, and there was the strange 
 twittering and curious murmur of insect life 
 that may be heard before sunrise in the 
 Australian bush, and that now covered the 
 stealthy movements of the watchers as they 
 got their guns ready for action. One by 
 one, the sleepy Blacks came out of their 
 gunyahs. They scratched themselves and 
 yabbered unsuspiciously to each other as 
 they blew upon the half-burnt firesticks. 
 Soon a blaze illuminated the camp, and the 
 shiny forms stood revealed in the glow, 
 easy targets for the marksmen. Each 
 
 c 2
 
 20 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 covered a Myall and fired. A volley- 
 echoed throucrh the scrub. Panic seized 
 the Blacks ; they knew not where to turn, 
 and hardly one escaped. 
 
 Thus, in that district, the war ended for 
 the time. Had the Blacks possessed any 
 power of concerted action, they might have 
 exterminated the whites ; and it was a 
 matter of wonder to the settlers that they 
 did not collect in force and bail up the 
 stations, which would have been quite at 
 their mercy. This was partly explained 
 by one of the leaders, a certain Cockatoo 
 Billy, who had contrived to pass through 
 the war unscathed. He said that after the 
 first fray, the Blacks had had a " corbon 
 woolla." Some wished to attack the stations ; 
 others to keep altogether clear of the whites, 
 and the prudent prevailed, for, said Cockatoo 
 Billy, with forcible logic, " White man no 
 like it blackfellow. Suppose blackfellow 
 go bong, baal more ; but suppose black- 
 fellow altogether mumkull white, plenty 
 more sit down along a Sydney." Sydney
 
 Sketches of Aush'alian Life. 21 
 
 to their ideas representing the habitat of 
 the species "white man." 
 
 Metancoly is the Black's expression for 
 a great number. The Blacks only count 
 to five. Kiinmeroi, one ; buiia, two ; bulla 
 kimmeroi, three ; bulla bulla, four ; bulla bulla 
 kimmeroi, five ; after that the term used is 
 metanculy. 
 
 The Blacks have a curious aptitude for 
 concealing themselves, A mounted white 
 man will fancy himself alone on a moderately 
 timbered plain, whereas in reality he may 
 be surrounded by Blacks, and as he lightly 
 canters by a slender gum-tree, the natives 
 gliding quickly round the trunk, and measur- 
 ing the line of sight by a hairsbreadth, may 
 be actually within spear's touch of him. 
 
 In Moreton Bay, the depredations of the 
 Blacks were more or less regulated by the 
 yield of the bunya forests, which clothe the 
 ranges between two great rivers. In a year 
 when the fruit was abundant, the natives 
 were always more troublesome and daring, 
 and the worst atrocities were committed.
 
 2 2 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 The bunya is a handsome tree of the 
 til- species. It grows in the shape of a 
 pyramid, the lower branches spreading wide 
 upon the ground, and the others graduating 
 upward to the height of a hundred or more 
 feet. The leaves are prickly, and of a dark 
 glossy green ; and the cone, yellow when 
 ripe, contains many nuts which are about the 
 size of a date, resinous but not disagree- 
 able in flavour. When the bunya is in 
 season, the tribes congregate from within a 
 radius of two or three hundred miles ; and 
 for some time, the district where the nut 
 abounds is a scene of feastinof and corro- 
 boreeing, for the Blacks who live ordinarily 
 upon opossum, snake, iguana, and such wild 
 animals as they can snare, enjoy the change 
 to a vegetable diet. But after a time they 
 begin to crave for animal food, and plentiful 
 as is the game, the large number assembled 
 causes it soon to become scarce. 
 
 At this crisis, before the advent of white 
 men, a fight ensued, and the killed were 
 roasted and devoured ; or there was a
 
 Sketches of AiLstralian Life 23 
 
 grand corroboree, and certain stout young 
 gins or lubras, set apart for the purpose, 
 were sacrificed. But when beef and mutton 
 became procurable, the herds naturally 
 suffered, and fierce collision with the whites 
 was a consequence. 
 
 Cannibalism prevails at the time of the 
 Bunya Feast ; but there is reason to be- 
 lieve that it is connected with some religious 
 observance. 
 
 The Blacks are very reticent concerning 
 the secrets of their religion, of which the 
 Korradofees or medicine men are the chief 
 repositories. It is sometimes denied that 
 they have any form of worship, and asserted 
 that their silence is due to the fact that 
 they have nothing to tell. That they have 
 secret rites is certain ; they also acknow- 
 ledge the power of a Great Spirit — not the 
 popular Debbil-Debbil ; and believe in a 
 heaven or happy hunting-ground, in which 
 the black man shall rise up white. A tribal 
 combat is always followed by a corroboree 
 and a feast upon human flesh, for the
 
 24 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 fighting man believes that by eating a por- 
 tion of the body of a great warrior, he 
 may secure to himself some share of the 
 prowess and valour of the deceased. 
 
 The great mystery of the Blacks is the 
 Bora— a ceremony at which the young 
 men found worthy receive the rank of 
 warriors and are henceforth called Kippers. 
 
 Previous to the ceremony they pass through 
 a period of probation, during which their 
 courage and endurance are tested, and they 
 are obliged to live apart in the bush, and not 
 allowed to see a gin. Only the initiated are 
 permitted to assist at the Bora, and no 
 women may be present. The Bora ground 
 is usually in a retired spot, on a slight eleva- 
 tion, level at the top. A large circle is scooped 
 out surrounded by a wall of earth in which 
 two openings are left. The youths enter by 
 one as neophytes, and make their exit by the 
 other as kippers. In the centre is placed the 
 rough effigy of an emu, made from twigs or 
 saplings. Europeans are ignorant of the 
 signification of the emblem, and it is improb-
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 -^5 
 
 able that any white man has ever witnessed 
 the Bora rite. The grounds are held in 
 reverence by the Blacks ; and desecration of 
 the sacred circle is followed by summary 
 vengeance. 
 
 No Black dare divulee the secrets of the 
 Bora. At night, over the camp fire, when 
 the horses have been hobbled, the pipes lit, 
 and a pannikin of grog poured out, the black- 
 boy drawn into conversation by the master for 
 whom he has an unbounded admiration, will 
 sometimes wax communicative about the 
 customs of his tribe ; but any question con- 
 cerning the Bora only elicits a shake of the 
 head, and the reply *' Supposs mine pialla you, 
 blackfellow direcdy mumkull mine." [If I 
 told you the Blacks would kill me at once]
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Many people know the misery of lying 
 awake, compelled by a sort of grim necessity 
 to piece together incidents that have made 
 childhood a memorable part of our lives. 
 One or two pictures stand out illuminated by 
 a sort of lurid brightness. All the rest is 
 misty and shadowy ; and we go on groping 
 after lost clues and tormenting ourselves till 
 we become exasperated by the very vivid- 
 ness of those early impressions that are like 
 Hashes in the darkness, and cause even later 
 experiences to seem vague and unreal. 
 
 Narcotics and anaesthetics sometimes play 
 odd tricks in stimulating memory, and un- 
 rolling the brain-folds where things of the past 
 lie hidden ; and I commend this fact to the 
 consideration of the Society for Psychical 
 Research, that an overdose of opium has
 
 Sketches of Austfalian Life. 27 
 
 brought before my mind's eye scenes and 
 faces of which, in my normal condition, I had 
 the very faintest recollection, but which, in 
 my abnormal state, I recognised with great 
 inward satisfaction. I have then been able 
 to see distinctly the wild country and the rough 
 bush hut where my earliest years were spent, 
 and which I have vainly puzzled my brain in 
 trying to recall ; and have gone through whole 
 scenes and conversations that I knew per- 
 fectly well had been realities, though I could 
 not by any possibility have remembered them. 
 My childhood, albeit that in some respects 
 it was an exceedingly happy one, has always 
 been a kind of nio-htmare to me. I feel oc- 
 casionally that Nature having allowed me to 
 develop certain faculties which might have 
 been of service had I remained In my original 
 condition of barbarism, Fate defrauded her by 
 casting my lines In pleasant and civilised 
 places. I still walk warily In long grass lest 
 a death adder should be lying close to my feet. 
 I have not ceased to dream that I am on an 
 out-station besieged by Blacks ; and during
 
 28 Sketches of Ausiralian Life. 
 
 many a night do I fly through the endless 
 forests, and hide in stony gulHes, pursued by 
 my aboriginal as ruthlessly as was ever De 
 Quincy by his Malay. Conventionality is a 
 burden to me, and society a penance. The 
 wild cawing of rooks is sweeter to my ears 
 than the song of the nightingale ; and the 
 systems of railways and of English " county 
 families" are equally unintelligible to my 
 understanding. I am oppressed sometimes 
 by an insane longing to fire a volley of 
 " Black's yabber " across a London dinner 
 table, and am obliged to fight against a 
 strong capacity for wonder and admiration, 
 and a tendency to take it for granted that 
 my next neighbour in a crowd must feel 
 as keen an interest in my well-being or 
 misfortunes, as though we had suddenly met 
 in the wilds of Australia, and knew that 
 there wasn't another human being within 
 twenty miles of us. 
 
 I felt the deepest sympathy with an Aus- 
 tralian stranger who occupied a stall in front 
 of me at the Italian Opera not many nights
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 29 
 
 ago. He was alone, and I saw that he had 
 a difficulty in containing his transports of 
 pleasure. An august member of the Chinese 
 Embassy came in late and took his seat 
 beside the colonist. I observed a gleam of 
 delight cross my compatriot's face, and knew 
 that he mentally associated the pigtail with 
 some friendly shepherd or intelligent hut- 
 keeper — the sort of Chinaman who is a feature 
 in the Bush. I was not surprised therefore 
 to see him nudge this magnate of the 
 Celestial Empire in the ribs and whisper 
 audibly, " What do you think of that, 
 John ? It's fine, isn't it .-* They don't do 
 anything like that in your country or in 
 mine, eh John ?" 
 
 A day or two later, I met the same gentle- 
 man wandering hopelessly about in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Belgrave Square. He accosted 
 me, and inquired his way. I directed him, 
 and, after thanking me, he added with true 
 Australian simplicity, " I get quite bushed in 
 these streets. London is an awful place. It's 
 all the same. I'd give a good deal to be able
 
 30 Sketches of AMstralian Life. 
 
 to blaze^ the houses as we do the iron-bark 
 trees. In fact, I'd rather any day be lost In 
 Never Never country." 
 
 .u, ^ ^ «y M^ 
 
 *9P •«• •Jv" ^ TV- 
 
 Naraiofin was a station in one of the most 
 unsettled districts — on the very borders of 
 unexplored country, of which my father took 
 possession when I was about seven or eight 
 years' old. 
 
 My recollections of our life at that time are 
 curiously vivid and complete, and seem to 
 stand apart from the earlier impressions, 
 which are a jumble of disconnected, luminous 
 images, with mist between. As far back as I 
 can think, there have always been trees and 
 wide pastures, Blacks, rough-bearded white 
 men, who usually carried revolvers, but who 
 were invariably kind to children, few or no 
 women and a general notion of bigness and 
 solitude. But the journey to Naraigin must 
 have been a break — a starting point, as it 
 were, amid new scenes. Then the Eurogan 
 
 1 N.B. To blaze, to mark a track by chopping a 
 piece of bark off each tree in a hne.
 
 Sketches of Australian Lt/e. 31 
 
 tragedy, where our neighbours the Grants — 
 a whole family, mother, daughters, and sons 
 — were outraged and murdered, was a horror 
 that couldn't fade quickly from the mind ; 
 and the raid upon the Blacks, in which 
 my father was concerned, and which, long 
 after the excitement was over, formed the 
 favourite topic for a "yarn," stamped upon 
 my memory incidents and conversations 
 that would otherwise have been forgotten. 
 
 The other day, a bundle of letters and 
 memoranda written at that time by my father 
 and mother fell into my hands and suggested 
 these reminiscences. They brought back 
 old days in a literal manner, as a photograph 
 may recall a once familiar face or landscape, 
 which, otherwise, is only rendered distinct 
 by intermittent gleams of the imagination. 
 With the aid of these it needs no effort to 
 picture in my mind the head station, and our 
 life at Naraigin. 
 
 A queer one-storied hut, built of slabs 
 which had shrunk apart, so that there were 
 wide gaps everywhere, with a sloping roof
 
 32 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 of bark and a wide and roughly boarded 
 verandah. Windows there were none, that 
 is to say in the sense of panes of glass — there 
 were wooden shutters that could be closed at 
 night. Most of the floors were earthen ; I 
 think the sitting-room was boarded, but am 
 not sure. The rooms w^ere unceiled, and I 
 have a vivid recollection of uncanny looking 
 white lizards and bloated tarantulas which 
 abode beneath the rafters. There was a 
 kitchen behind, connected with the house by 
 a covered passage ; and there were other 
 outbuildings — a meat store, on the roof of 
 which the bullock hides were stretched to 
 dry, and a wool-shed some little distance away, 
 which with its many pens, its empty wool 
 bales, and presses, its odd holes and 
 corners, was the most delightful playing- 
 ground imaginable. Then there was a 
 garden, fenced in with hurdles, over which 
 our tame kangaroo took his daily consti- 
 tutional ; but nothing grew in it except 
 pumpkins and fat - hen. Well for us 
 that they did flourish, for we lived on
 
 Sketches of Atistralian Life. 33 
 
 pumpkins and mutton for three months, 
 during which time the drays were delayed 
 by flooded creeks, and the store was 
 empty of flour, tea, sugar, and all other 
 groceries. 
 
 Below the house lay the stockyard, and 
 between the stockyard and the river the 
 camp. The Blacks were always in the 
 water. The gins dived for the roots of 
 waterlilies, and then roasted the bulbs in 
 the ashes. When cooked these bulbs became 
 yellow and powdery, and were as dear to 
 my semi-civilised palate as they were to the 
 stomachs of my savage companions the 
 piccaninnies. Gastronomically speaking, I 
 learned much from the Blacks, particularly 
 from a certain half-caste boy called Ringo, 
 who was the first object of my youthful 
 affections. I seriously contemplated an 
 elopement to the scrub with Ringo, but 
 upon going into the question of the marriage 
 laws of the race, discovered that he being a 
 Cuppi was bound to wed with a Dongai or 
 undergo the penalty of excommunication and 
 
 D
 
 34 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 death. I reflected that, as I was not a Dougai, 
 we should probably both be knocked on the 
 head with a nulla-nulla, and then eaten after a 
 corroboree — and thought better of the elope- 
 ment. But Ringo taught me to find and 
 appreciate a fat white grub, the native name 
 of which I forget, though I would fain re- 
 commend it to European and Antipodean 
 epicures. I also made acquaintance under 
 Ringo's auspices with the flesh of the iguana, 
 and that especial delicacy, the eggs of the 
 black snake. I learned, too, at the camp to 
 plait dilly-bags, to chop sugar-bags (other- 
 wise hives of native bees) out of trees, to 
 make drinking- vessels from gourds, and to 
 play the jews'-harp. But for none of these 
 accomplishments have I found a field in 
 England. 
 
 The camp Blacks were not considered 
 domesticated, and were migratory, coming 
 and going among the stations, and just stay- 
 ing as long as they found themselves com- 
 fortable. They were only pressed into 
 service when shepherds were scarce, or
 
 Sketches of Atistralian Life. 35 
 
 " rung " trees (that is, gums which had been 
 barked and allowed to wither) required felling. 
 But we had several black boys in regular 
 employment, and these lived in a hut, wore 
 clothes, and had adopted, as far as possible, 
 the customs of the white men. These were : 
 Bean-Tree Dick, Freddy, and Tombo. 
 They would not do menial work, but rode 
 among the cattle, looked for lost sheep, and 
 brought up the horses. Their moleskins 
 were always white. They wore Crimean 
 shirts, with coloured handkerchiefs knotted 
 above one shoulder and under the other, 
 and sang songs in their own language set 
 to operatic airs. The effect was curious. 
 Whenever I hear "Ah che la morte," either at 
 Covent Garden Opera, or on a barrel organ, 
 I always think of Tombo, with his woolly 
 hair, his beady eyes, and glistening teeth. 
 He had been in the native police, and had 
 been trained by their commandant, who was 
 a musician. Tombo was a capital mimic. 
 There lived with us at Naraiein a senti- 
 mental German, Dr. Lanhaus by name, who 
 
 D 2
 
 36 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 had a weakness for reciting English poetry 
 with the strongest foreign accent and most 
 absurd gestures. Never shall I forget 
 Tombo, as he stood in an attitude by the 
 camp fire, with one hand on his hip and his 
 head bent sideways, every muscle of his face 
 quivering with suppressed amusement, while 
 he gave a ludicrous representation of Dr. 
 Lanhaus repeating " The Raven," of which 
 such absurdly pronounced phrases linger on 
 my ear, as : — 
 
 " Sitting on my chamber door . . . 
 * * * * 
 
 Quoth the Ra-a-ven, * Never m5or.' " 
 
 Poor Tombo ! Later on, he forsook the 
 paths of virtue, rejoined his tribe, went 
 south, became demoralised in a township, 
 and took to drink. Years afterwards, in 
 Brisbane, upon the occasion of a great poli- 
 tical ceremony — the laying of a foundation- 
 stone or something of the sort, at which 
 I, as the daughter of one of the public func- 
 tionaries, occupied a prominent position — I 
 felt considerably embarrassed when Tombo,
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. T^y 
 
 scantily clad, reeking of tobacco, with a 
 dirty clay pipe thrust in his woolly locks, 
 advancing from the crowd, seized my hand, 
 and greeted me with effusion. " Hullo, 
 Rachel ! Budgery you ! Tsch, tsch ! My 
 word ! Baal clothes like it that at Naraigin. 
 You pidney. Me Tombo. Plenty mine 
 been brother belonging to you. Plenty mine 
 been show you crack him stock whip. Plenty 
 mine been carry you over creek," and so on 
 through a list of humiliating reminiscences. 
 
 My father and mother are but misty figures 
 in these early recollections. The former, as 
 he appeared to me then, is always mixed up 
 in my mind with a striped poucho and a car- 
 bine — why the poucho I know not, for the 
 heat must have rendered such a wrap quite 
 superfluous. I imagine him with my child's 
 mind as being of picturesque and buccaneer- 
 like aspect, and associate him with long 
 cantos from " Childe Harold " and " Ma- 
 zeppa," which I was in the habit of 
 reciting to him before I learned to read, 
 though later on, mid different surroundings.
 
 ^S Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 he presents himself as a sufficiently prosaic 
 squatter. 
 
 There was an odd connection of ideas 
 in my mind between my father of those 
 days and the figure of a fierce and melan- 
 choly Time, standing in the foreground of 
 a queer seventeenth-century oil-painting — 
 an altar-piece which hung upon the slab 
 wall, above a settle covered with a red 
 blanket, in the parlour at Naraigin. My 
 father's love for his pictures taught me to 
 regard them with a sort of veneration, almost 
 as though they were living things. These 
 paintings must have puzzled the stranger 
 who came within our doors, to whom they 
 must have seemed ludicrously out of keep- 
 ing with our surroundings. They were 
 mostly of the Flemish and Italian schools 
 — Madonnas framed in wreaths that might 
 have been gathered in the gardens of 
 Paradise, so utterly unfamiliar were they in 
 this arid region, where the great yellow 
 pumpkin blossoms, the flaunting hibiscus, 
 and the lilies on the surface of the river
 
 Sketches of Azistralian Life. 39 
 
 were all the flowers we knew. There were 
 also some Dutch interiors, and Flemish scrip- 
 tural pieces, which represented the disciples 
 in flat caps and blue blouses ; and there 
 was a Holy Family after Rubens, where a 
 red-bearded Joseph leaned over a florid- 
 faced Virgin, who held a fat baby upon her 
 knee. But that large canvas on which Time 
 figured was the object of my particular res- 
 pect, the subject of many speculations and 
 theories. For I had been impressed with 
 the fact that it was allegorical, and symbolical 
 of the various stages of the human career. 
 It was a hard task for my child's brain to 
 reconcile the Salvator-like background, over- 
 shadowed by a great Tree of Knowledge, on 
 which grew such huge and rosy apples as 
 had never come within my ken, the groups 
 of fantastically-dressed ladies, and knights 
 in armour on richly-caparisoned horses, the 
 mummers, and jesters, and the mediaeval page- 
 ants exhibited here — with life as it unfolded 
 itself to me at Naraigin. Time's eyes never 
 wandered. He looked down upon us with
 
 40 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 such deep, earnest sadness, that I felt sure 
 there must be something In our mode of 
 proceedings which troubled him. I wondered 
 that my father, who often studied the pic- 
 ture, was not more oppressed by the dis- 
 approving gaze. Time held in his hand a 
 scroll bearing a Latin inscription, which I 
 was told came from the Bible, and I jumped 
 to the conclusion that it was the command- 
 ment "That shalt not kill," and that he was 
 grieving over its transgression. 
 
 My views about murder were from the 
 force of circumstances rather vague. We 
 seemed to live in its atmosphere at Naraigin. 
 The Blacks killed the Whites when they 
 found them defenceless, and the Whites slew 
 the Blacks in a wholesale and promiscuous 
 fashion which offended against my childish 
 sense of justice. The murder of a China- 
 man, for whom I had an instinctive aversion 
 — well justified, as I have since learned — 
 was avenged by the troopers with what 
 seemed to me undue severity. I could not 
 understand why the innocent should suffer
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 41 
 
 for the guilty. Indeed, I was sorely per- 
 plexed by the distinction, from a moral 
 point of view, between our clever black boys 
 and Ah Tat, the aforesaid Celestial, whom 
 I considered infinitely lower in the scale of 
 creation. There was treachery on both sides, 
 and the Blacks had as good a right as the 
 Whites to claim retribution for their wrongs. 
 Does not the history of colonisation tell over 
 and over again the same story ? Justice 
 has hardly been awarded by their historians 
 to the Australian aboriginals. They are a 
 low type of humanity, and almost incapable 
 of civilisation, but not so debased as it is 
 usual to believe. In some respects their 
 quickness and dexterity are quite remark- 
 able. They are often brave ; and in 
 individuals one finds the sentiment of justice, 
 loyalty, and self-respect. This can hardly 
 be said, however, of the race collectively. 
 They have a good deal of native wit, and a 
 keen sense of humour ; but they were regarded 
 as little above the level of brutes, and in 
 some cases were destroyed like vermin.
 
 42 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 Here is an instance. A squatter whose 
 head station was surrounded by Blacks, 
 whom he suspected to be hostile and from 
 whom he feared an attack, parleyed with 
 them from his house-door. He told them 
 that it was Christmas time — a time at which 
 all men, black or white, feasted ; that there 
 were flour, sugar plums, good things in 
 plenty in the store, and that the white Mary 
 would make for them such a pudding as 
 they had never even dreamed of — a great 
 pudding, of which all might eat and be filled. 
 The Blacks listened and were lost. The 
 pudding was made and distributed. Next 
 morning there was howling in the camp, 
 for it had been sweetened with sugar and 
 arsenic ! That squatter deserves to have 
 his name handed down to the contempt of 
 posterity. I know many Australian women, 
 who, in the same extremity, would have 
 defended themselves to the last, with shot 
 or steel, and would have turned the pistol 
 or knife to their own bosoms ere they fell 
 into the hands of the savages ; but not one
 
 Sketches of Australian Life, 
 
 that I know, would have poisoned her 
 enemies Hke rats before a blow had been 
 struck. 
 
 It was soon after this — and who shall 
 wonder ? — that the Donga district became 
 notorious as one in which the Blacks were 
 dangerous, and where it was unadvisable to 
 take up country. The Lowes' station on 
 the coast had been bailed up, and several 
 of the hands massacred. Farquhar of Bulli 
 Creek had been speared in his verandah, 
 and another squatter was tomahawked while 
 camping under his bullock-dray. So far, 
 however, Naraigin had been comparatively 
 peaceful, though a large mob of Blacks was 
 encamped not far from the head station ; they 
 had done no damage beyond spearing a few 
 head of cattle ; and as they disclaimed any 
 evil intentions, it was not thought prudent 
 to drive them away and thus provoke their 
 enmity. 
 
 This was a great Bunya year, and on the 
 Bunya mountains near us the tribes were 
 assembled in larije numbers. Not lono-
 
 44 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 before, the Government had disbanded one 
 of the troops of native police which had 
 guarded the district, and a feeHng of 
 insecurity was springing up among the 
 squatters. The women began to practise 
 the use of fire-arms ; the men rode home 
 from their day's work with tightened heart- 
 strings. Often have I heard my father 
 describe how each day when he had been 
 out on the run, he used, in cold fear, to 
 mount a hill that overlooked the head 
 station, and draw free breath again when 
 he saw that It lay quiet and unharmed. 
 
 We had but few neighbours, and they 
 were far apart. Boompa, the station nearest 
 to us, was owned by a widower, Mr. Jackson 
 by name, who years before, when money 
 was more plentiful, had made a trip to 
 Europe, the glory of which still rested upon 
 him. His wife had been an exceedingly 
 handsome woman, and when In Paris the 
 Jacksons contrived a presentation to the 
 Emperor, and were invited to a Court ball. 
 Mr. Jackson was fond of making casual
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 45 
 
 reference to his intimacy at the Tuileries 
 and his friendship with Napoleon III. In 
 consequence, by a free translation of his 
 name, he was familiarly styled among us 
 Monsieur Jacques, and invariably asked upon 
 his arrival at the station what late news he 
 had received from the Court of France. 
 He considered the joke rather as a com- 
 pliment than otherwise, and I think that he 
 would have been affronted had we addressed 
 him by his proper name. He was a small 
 wizened man, with a wart at the end of his 
 nose, and had his mouth drawn up at one 
 side, which gave him a comical expression. 
 But he was famous for his coolness and 
 daring, and for " blowing," in Australian 
 parlance, both of his exploits and of his 
 bonnes fortunes. It was whispered that 
 many a comely lubra had found favour in his 
 sight ; but this is a fact, like others, gleaned 
 from my father's notes, and not from my 
 own observation. He loved children, and 
 generally came to Naraigin with his pockets 
 full of sticky toffee which his hut-keeper.
 
 46 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 Gritty Macalister, made out of ration sugar. 
 I blush for my greediness to tell that 
 when I noticed his breeches bulging out 
 at the sides I used to creep up to his chair 
 and begin laying siege to his heart by the 
 petition, " Monsieur Jacques, tell me some- 
 thing about the Emperor." His return from 
 the township, which happened once in two 
 years, was a jubilee for me ; and during the 
 flour famine he saved all that he had in his 
 store — only a few pounds — to make a weekly 
 loaf for the " Naraigin brat." 
 
 Gritty Macalister was the ugliest woman 
 I ever beheld or dreamed of, and she was 
 in the habit of remarking devoutly, in her 
 broad Scotch, " Praise be to the Lord I'm 
 no weel-favoured ; and while there's a gin 
 in the cawmp neither Mister Jackson nor 
 the Blacks will be seekin' an auld hag 
 like me." 
 
 But alas for Gritty ! One day Donga 
 Billy, a suspected murderer and the Don 
 Juan of his tribe, broke into her kitchen 
 and bounced her for rations. Gritty coolly
 
 Sketches of Attstralian Life. 47 
 
 threw a damper and a piece of salt junk 
 into his dilly-bag, and proceeded with her 
 ironing. Donga Billy, struck with admira- 
 tion, cried out as he departed, " Corbon 
 budgery you, Mary belonging to mine. 
 Directly baal white man sit down along a 
 Donga. Altogether Black mumkull that 
 fellow. Altogether cramma Mary like it 
 gin." 
 
 [" You will make me a very good wife. 
 Soon there will be no white men upon the 
 Donera. The Blacks will kill them all and 
 steal all the women for gins."] 
 
 No longer was Gritty able to make the 
 boast that she had never been looked upon 
 with eyes of longing by any man. 
 
 It was Monsieur Jacques who brought us 
 the news, told him. by one of his boys, that 
 the Blacks contemplated bailing up Milun- 
 gera, the Lees' station, and Eurogan, the 
 Grants' place, and were waiting till it was 
 full moon to carry their plan into execution. 
 
 Naraigin, Eurogan, and Milungera formed 
 an unequal triangle lying westward. The
 
 48 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 last named was two days' journey from us, 
 and was the furthest station in the district. 
 Beyond, the country was unexplored. 
 
 The Grants were a large party, consisting 
 of Mrs. Grant, a widow, a handsome old 
 lady, kind-hearted and hospitable, who had 
 struggled bravely against adversity, and had 
 brought up her children to fear none but 
 God ; her four daughters, two of whom were 
 grown up, three sons and a tutor, and besides, 
 several shepherds. They had settled on the 
 Donga about a year before, and had spent 
 a day or two at Naraigin on their way to 
 take possession of their new home. Mon- 
 sieur Jacques, after hearing the rumour of 
 their danger, went to warn them, and stayed 
 a night at Naraigin on his return. 
 
 I remember well the enthusiastic way in 
 which he described the eldest Miss Grant. 
 She was a pretty girl, with blue eyes and 
 a fair complexion, and she and her sister 
 sang Scotch duets without any instrumental 
 accompaniment. She was engaged to be 
 married to a squatter who lived farther
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 49 
 
 south. Monsieur Jacques told us with a sigh 
 that they had written to the clergyman, and 
 that her trousseau was in the drays, which 
 her brother was bringing up from the town- 
 ship. They were expected to arrive in a 
 few weeks. 
 
 Monsieur Jacques looked so melancholy 
 that my father began to laugh. " Cheer up, 
 man ! " he cried ; " you have let an oppor- 
 tunity slip ; and you a lady-killer and a 
 marrying man ! I am surprised at you ! 
 But it isn't too late. The rivers may be 
 flooded, and the parson and the trousseau 
 may not arrive for six months yet. Go 
 over again ; fight the Blacks for her, and 
 try your luck against the other man. You've 
 a chance of winning, especially if you write 
 to your friend the Emperor and ask him to 
 send you out a recommendation" 
 
 Mr, Jackson treated the matter quite 
 seriously. He admitted that it was a great 
 pity he had not visited Eurogan sooner, but 
 declared heroically that he would scorn to 
 take a mean advantage of any man. " Thc^ 
 
 E
 
 50 Sketches of A2istralian Life. 
 
 fact is, my dear Murray," he added, " the 
 cattle hereabouts are too scattered, you can't 
 inspect them properly. Next year I shall 
 look over a heifer-paddock in Sydney and 
 take my pick." 
 
 N.B. — Heifer-paddock in Australian slang 
 means a ladies' school. 
 
 Alas for kindly, conceited Monsieur 
 Jacques ! Long before next summer came, 
 he was lying in a lonely grave with a 
 gum-tree for his headstone. 
 
 Milungera was a greater distance from 
 us than Eurogan, and had fewer hands. 
 A passer-by had told us some little time 
 before, that Mr. Lee was crippled with 
 rheumatic fever, and had also brought a 
 piteous request from Mrs. Lee that my 
 mother would go and visit her, for " it was so 
 many months since she had seen a woman." 
 My father and mother were distressed upon 
 her account, and determined that they would 
 ride across country, carrying me on horse- 
 back, and, if possible, persuade Mr. and Mrs. 
 Lee to return with them to Naraiofin.
 
 Sketches of Anstralian Life. 51 
 
 It was a wild journey, and not without 
 danger. We took with us a little company 
 of black boys, who cleared the way and acted 
 as advance guard. I can remember still how 
 intense was the heat, and how the parrots 
 fluttered languidly from bough to bough, 
 while the iguanas, as we passed them, seemed 
 to have scarcely energy to drag their un- 
 wieldy crocodile-like bodies up the nearest 
 gum-tree. But the locusts kept up their 
 deafening whirr, and all manner of flies 
 buzzed about us. We halted at mid-day and 
 boiled our "quart pot tea" by a stony pinch, 
 down which ran an almost dry watercourse 
 bordered with gidya shrubs and stunted wattle. 
 At night, our camp was made upon a narrow 
 flat between two ridges. I can see the scene 
 now. The sky moonless but gemmed with 
 stars. Orion, upside down, the Scorpion, the 
 Southern Cross— all the dear familiar constel- 
 lations — shining clear in the deep blue above ; 
 the camp fire illuminating a shadowy patch 
 covered with rank grass and dead timber, 
 the tall gums rising majestic in contrast with 
 
 E 2
 
 52 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 the weird-looking tufted grass-trees that 
 reared their brown spears slantwise like 
 tired sentinels ; and for sound the plaintive 
 niofht cries of the birds and murmur of 
 insects, mingling with the clank of the 
 hobbles and the tread of the horses' feet. 
 The boys had built a gunya of branches 
 and had strewn the ground with grass- 
 treetops upon which our blankets were 
 spread, and I lay coiled up within, wide 
 awake and watchful. My father sat plaiting a 
 thong for his stock-whip, and presently I saw 
 Tombo creep up from his own camp which had 
 been pitched some yards distant from ours. 
 
 " Massa," he said, " mine think it plenty 
 myall Black look out. I believe police close 
 up. I been see it mandowie." 
 
 [" Master, I think there are wild Blacks 
 about. I believe the police are near, for 
 I have seen tracks."] 
 
 Almost as he spoke another dark form 
 crept out from among the trees — a Black, 
 naked save for the girdle round his loins, 
 tattooed and striped with red and blue paint,
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 53 
 
 with many strings of rush-beads round his 
 neck and an amulet of bone upon his brawny 
 chest. He was armed with spear, boomerang, 
 and nulla-nulla, yet held none of his weapons 
 poised. There was something frank and fear- 
 less in his aspect. It was evident that he did 
 not meditate treachery or midnight murder. 
 
 My father looked up and saw the Black. 
 His gun was resting a little way from where 
 he sat, but he made no movement towards 
 it. The following dialogue took place, 
 
 " Murray } " 
 
 " Yohi " [Yes], said my father, nodding his 
 head. 
 
 "You pidney. Mine Donga Billy. Black 
 fellow been w^oolla that you coolla belonging 
 to mine." ["You understand. I am Donga 
 Billy. The black fellows have told me that 
 you are angry with me."] 
 
 " Yohi," repeated my father, imper- 
 turbably. 
 
 " You been pialla [tell] Black ; suppose 
 Donga Billy come humpy belonging to you, 
 you shoot that fellow. What for ? "
 
 54 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 My father explained that, Donga Billy 
 beins:' in the habit of makinof disturbances 
 upon the stations he frequented, and of 
 inciting the Blacks to spear cattle, he would 
 have none of him at Narai^in. 
 
 "Budgery!" said Donga Billy. "Baal 
 mine gerund. I come Naraigin. Suppose 
 you coolla, you marra daloopil. I man 
 him spear, nulla-nulla, boomerang! Which 
 fellow budgery ? Which fellow mumkull ? 
 Baal mine gerund." [" Good ! I am not 
 frightened. I shall come to Naraio^in. If 
 you are angry, you shall take a pistol. 1 
 will have a spear, nulla-nulla, or boomerang. 
 We shall see which is the best man — which 
 will kill the other. I am not frightened."] 
 
 Having delivered his challenge, Donga 
 Billy straightened himself in heroic style, 
 and waited to see if it were accepted. 
 
 " Yohi," said my father. " I pidney. 
 Yan ! " [" Go away."] 
 
 "Budgery!" replied Donga Billy, "mine 
 yan ; " and he departed.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 But it was not destined that the night 
 should be passed in peace. Towards dawn 
 we were awakened by cries from Tombo. 
 " Massa ! Massa ! Murrai make haste. 
 Woolla Captain Payne baal mine Boney. 
 Mme Tombo. Naraigin boy. Plenty mine 
 been save white man ; " then the confused 
 sound of several voices raised in reo;ret and 
 laughter. My father got up. Captain 
 Payne, commandant of the native police, 
 advanced and explained the cause of the 
 disturbance. He was a tall, grim-looking 
 man, laconic in speech and ready in action. 
 " I'm after Boompa Boney. 'Twas he who 
 speared Farquhar, He's about these parLs. 
 I sneaked your black boys' camp, making sure 
 I'd get him. What in the name of wonder, 
 Mr. Murray, are you doing here ? "
 
 56 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 " I'm on my way to Milungera," replied 
 my father. " I hear the Blacks are threaten- 
 ing an attack ; and I want to take the Lees 
 back to Naraigin, where we are pretty 
 quiet." 
 
 " Good ! " said the commandant. " But 
 they won't go. Mrs. Lee is as plucky as 
 the devil, and the best shot in the district. 
 You squatters will have to arm a corps of 
 your own if this murdering business gets 
 hotter. There aren't enouo-h of us to do 
 the work. Good - night. Budgery you 
 Tombo. Hi " (throwing him a fig of 
 tobacco) " plenty mine been hear of Tombo. 
 Suppose mine been hurt Tombo plenty mine 
 cry. Tombo, I ask your pardon." 
 
 Captain Payne made the black boy a mag- 
 nificent bow, mounted his horse and rode 
 away followed by his little troop. 
 
 " My word, Massa ; close up baal more 
 you been see it Tombo," said the boy. 
 " Police been think Boney sit down along 
 a my camp. Budgery Captain Payne ! 
 My word! That fellow Marmi [chief]
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 57 
 
 close up like it, Gubbernor, 'pologise to 
 Tombo like it gentleman ! " 
 
 Tombo often talked afterwards of this 
 adventure, and was intensely proud of 
 having had an apology offered to him by 
 Captain Payne. 
 
 Eurogan head station was a lonely hut 
 with a verandah in front, and a kitchen — 
 a smaller humpey — at the back, joined to 
 it by a bark-covered passage, a garden 
 fenced in with hurdles inclosing both build- 
 ings. We saw as we approached that some 
 attempt at defence had been made. There 
 were staples to the shutters, and bars by 
 which the doors could be secured. Mr. Lee, 
 unable to walk, sat in a squatter's chair in 
 the verandah, with a loaded pistol and 
 musket within reach of his hand. Mrs. 
 Lee, a young, bright-faced, refined-looking 
 woman, whom Mr. Lee had married in 
 England and brought out not many years 
 before, moved about her house and went 
 to and from her kitchen with a double- 
 barrelled revolver in her belt, laughing
 
 58 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 and singing all the time, as cheerful as 
 possible, and making light of difficulty and 
 danger. It was quite true that she had 
 not seen a white woman for many months ; 
 and her only servant was a Chinese shep- 
 herd, the most arrant coward imaginable, who 
 barricaded himself in his room whenever 
 a Black appeared on the scene. 
 
 Occasionally, she and her husband vfere 
 left on the station without any help at all. 
 I remember her laughter over the incon- 
 gruities of Australian life. They were not 
 then patent to me, though I recall distinctly 
 her amused comparison between the hard- 
 ships of her present lot and her former 
 peaceful existence in an English country 
 village. As an illustration, she told us a 
 story of how, not long before, she and 
 Mr. Lee had been interrupted in the act of 
 " washing up " after their evening meal — he, 
 with a greasy cloth tied to a stick, cleaning 
 the frying-pan, she, wiping the plates — by the 
 entrance of a trooper with two prisoners whom 
 it was requested should be judged forthwith
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 59 
 
 and authority given to commit them to gaol. 
 The magistrate therefore dropped the frying- 
 pan, put on his coat in deference to the 
 dignity of the occasion, judged the culprits, 
 and returned to his menial occupation, while 
 JMrs. Lee set to work and cooked a second 
 supper. 
 
 A short time ago I called upon Mrs. Lee 
 in her charming house, where she sat sur- 
 rounded by the luxuries and prettinesses of 
 modern civilisation. We talked of the 
 troubled times upon the Donga River, and 
 of that very visit which I am describing : 
 "Ah!" she said with a deep sigh, "those 
 were the happy days ! They'll never come 
 back again ! " 
 
 When my father mentioned his errand, he 
 found that Captain Payne's conclusion had 
 been a correct one. Nothincf would induce 
 Mrs. Lee to leave Eurogan, nor would she 
 allow that their lives were in danger. " I 
 see," she said, "that you don't know what a 
 good shot I am. Let me show you. Put 
 up your hat upon the post of one of those
 
 6o Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 hurdles " — she pointed to the garden fence, 
 which was sufficiently far off to rouse my 
 father's incredulity — " and I'll send a bullet 
 through its crown." 
 
 My father accepted the challenge. She 
 fired ; and he saw that she was as good as 
 her word. She laughed in her cheery way 
 as she reloaded her revolver. " The Blacks 
 are all afraid of me. They tell each other 
 ' That fellow white Mary at Eurogan ba'al 
 muskito.' " [" The white woman at Eurogan 
 never misses."] 
 
 We stayed a short time with the Lees and 
 then returned to Naraigin, taking three days 
 for our homeward journey, and making a 
 ddtour in order to call at another outside 
 station, as we wished to warn the occupants 
 of danger, and to beg them to " keep an eye 
 upon Eurogan." 
 
 The trip was, at all events, memorable to 
 one of our black boys, " Bean-Tree Dick/' 
 who found his fate in the person of a 
 comely gin- — the victim of a misplaced 
 attachment to a Chinaman, by whom she
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. ■ 6r 
 
 had been deserted, or more correctly told 
 to "yan." 
 
 Mr. Lee, who affected a knowledge of the 
 classics, had christened her Ariadne. A little 
 half-caste piccaninny trotted by her side. 
 The child had been called Hebe, In fine 
 Irony, for she certainly had no claims to 
 favour In the slo^ht of cfods or men, 
 
 Bean-Tree Dick shook his head over the 
 piccaninny. He was a Black of gentlemanly 
 manners and had Imbibed some European 
 prejudices. He had been a pupil of that 
 musical commander of the native police 
 before mentioned, and was the tenor of the 
 camp ; often have I heard him trolling forth 
 to the air of " La donna e mobile " such 
 does'erel as this : — 
 
 '&&' 
 
 "Wheel-barrow break him, 
 Walla tumble down ; 
 Ba'al Massa give flour, 
 
 Black fellow got him none." ^ 
 
 ^ " The drags are broken. The rain is falling. The 
 master gives no flour. The black fellows have none."
 
 62 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 Dick's voice and dramatic capacity would 
 have made his fortune on the operatic 
 stage. 
 
 The romance threatened to come to a 
 speedy conckision ; but Ariadne followed us 
 when we rode away, and, with her piccaninny 
 in her arms, stuck up the party in the bed of 
 a creek. She o-roaned and moaned, and told 
 a piteous story to the effect that the tribe 
 were going to have a corroboree that very 
 niofht, and meant to kill and eat the luckless 
 Hebe. 
 
 The Blacks very frequently disposed of 
 half-castes in this manner, and there was no 
 reason to doubt the gin's tale. My mother 
 was moved to pity ; my father had for some 
 time cherished the notion of catching a black 
 lubra young, taming, and training her to be 
 a house-servant. Accordingly, a bargain was 
 struck. Ariadne received a clasp-knife and 
 a fig of tobacco, on the understanding that 
 from henceforth she waived all claim to the 
 child ; and Hebe Avas delivered temporarily 
 into the keeping of Tombo, a large handker-
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 63 
 
 chief tied round her head, and she was put 
 naked into one of the saddle-bags. 
 
 It was arranged that Ariadne should make 
 her own way across country to Naraigin. She 
 turned back rejoicing, while we crossed the 
 creek and went on our way. 
 
 Arrived that evening at our destination, 
 we found that the native police had been 
 there, and that a fray had already taken place. 
 It was a nightmare-like scene. The station 
 hands had been getting in scrubbers, and the 
 carcases of wild bulls lay in the stockyard 
 not far from the unburied bodies of dead 
 Blacks. A horrible stench arose from these 
 corpses, which had lain all day festering in 
 the sun ; and we were glad to shut ourselves 
 into the room assigned to us in a detached 
 hut. Here Hebe was soused in a tub of 
 warm water, well scrubbed, her head shaved, 
 and then, wrapped in one of my garments, 
 she was laid to sleep in her blanket, in a far 
 corner of the larcre earthen-floored chamber. 
 We had reason to cono-ratulate ourselves 
 upon our accommodation as far as space and
 
 64 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 air were concerned, but there was little or no 
 furniture except a wide bunk placed against 
 the inner wall. The room had two windows, 
 or rather holes, several feet square, without 
 bars or shutters, and covered with a kind of 
 cheese-cloth. In the middle of the night my 
 father, who had lain down dressed on the 
 outer edge of the bunk, started up, and 
 seeing a black fellow peering in at the win- 
 dow, fired at him. He missed his aim, and 
 too weary to pursue the matter further, 
 fell back and slept. Nor for long, however. 
 He was awakened by the sound of stealthy 
 footsteps and of uncertain fumbling about the 
 room. Had the savage obtained an entrance, 
 and was he feelinof for the whereabouts of the 
 bed ? My father stepped softly on to the 
 floor with his pistol levelled, and called out 
 sharply, " Who's there ? " prepared to fire in 
 the direction whence should be hurled the 
 nulla-nulla he momentarily expected. 
 
 But a whining voice cried out, " Massa, 
 ba'al mine find him blanket." It was poor 
 little Hebe, who, accustomed to sleep with
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 65 
 
 her mother and the dogs by the camp fire, 
 heaven's blue above her, had risen, and was 
 forlornly groping round the four walls in 
 which she was cabined. 
 
 Not many days later, Ariadne put in an 
 appearance at Naraigin, and was welcomed 
 by Bean-Tree Dick. My father performed 
 the marriage ceremony after this fashion. 
 Seeing Dick at Ariadne's camp he went 
 down. "Dick," said he, "you like 
 Ariadne ? " 
 
 " I believe corbon budgery that fellow," 
 said Dick, stolidly. 
 
 " Ariadne, you like Dick ? " continued my 
 father. " You marry that fellow ? " 
 
 " Yes, massa," obediently replied the fair 
 one; "suppose Dick want me." 
 
 " Mine want him," said Dick with alacrity. 
 
 "Budgery!" said my father. "Ariadne, 
 I give you to Dick. Dick, Ariadne gin be- 
 longing to you. Now you are married. 
 Baal camp. You two live along in black 
 boy's humpy." 
 
 Ariadne accordingly took up her abode in 
 
 F
 
 66 Sketches of AiLstralian Life. 
 
 Dick's quarters, and was an admirable hut- 
 keeper. Her tender experiences in the dwel- 
 ling of her Chinese lover stood her now in 
 ofood stead. She made excellent curries out 
 of the salt beef, and her bread was beyond 
 praise. The black boy's humpy became a 
 model of neatness. One corner was roughly 
 partitioned off for the accommodation of the 
 happy pair. All the bunks were kept tidy 
 with coloured blankets, and the fire-arms 
 hung just above them ready for use at a 
 moment's warning. 
 
 The moon was arain near her full. A 
 larofe mob of Blacks had been for some time 
 settled at Naraigin, and now announced their 
 intention of shifting camp. They had done 
 us no harm ; and though there was a rumour 
 that Donga Billy was in the neighbourhood, 
 he had not as yet made good his challenge. 
 I fancy that it was my father's reputation 
 amonof them as a "medicine man" which 
 saved Naraigin from being attacked. By 
 impressive assurances and simple drugs he 
 had cured several of the natives of small
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 67 
 
 ailments ; and they believed that he had only 
 to pialla [talk to] the debbil-debbil in order to 
 make any or all of them go bong [dead]. 
 
 One day Ringo informed me that there 
 was to be a corroboree that eveninof across 
 the river, and that if I were willing, he and 
 Tombo would take me to a spot from which 
 I might look on unseen. 
 
 Was I willing ? I had listened with bated 
 breath to Ringo's tales of the corroborees, 
 and for months — years — had yearned after 
 the sight. The very idea was full of 
 horrible fascination for me. I trembled, 
 and yet longed ; but I dared not ask for 
 permission, which I knew would be refused. 
 Towards dusk I sneaked surreptitiously out 
 of the hut, and Tombo and Ringo conveyed 
 me across the river to a little stony pinnacle, 
 from which we had a good view of the 
 lightly-timbered flat where the Blacks were 
 congregated. 
 
 It was a glorious night: the moon and 
 stars were unveiled by a single cloud. 
 Beyond the circle, illuminated by great fires 
 
 F 2
 
 68 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 of wood, stretched the wide bush, shadowy 
 and vast. Round this circle, leaving a space 
 in which the fires burned at regular distances 
 apart, the Blacks had gathered in rows three 
 or four deep. The naked forms of the chief 
 warriors, with spears brandished above their 
 heads, pipeclayed and painted in fantastic 
 patterns, and adorned with beads and 
 feathers, stood foremost, glowing lurid in 
 the reflection of the blaze. Behind were 
 the older men, and then the gins, who kept 
 up a monotonous and discordant chorus to 
 the accompaniment of rude wind instruments, 
 tum-tums, and a few jews'-harps. Now the 
 chant died with a wail, now swelled loud in 
 notes of triumph. The chiefs in the midst, 
 lifting their arms, waving their spears, and 
 uttering harsh cries, seemed to direct the 
 performance. A party of braves stepped into 
 the arena, treading softly, looking round, 
 vigilant and cunning, whispering, stooping 
 through imaginary doorways, and represent- 
 ing what was clearly a night attack. There 
 was a dash sideways upon a cluster of
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 69 
 
 unsuspecting sleepers, who, rising drowsily, 
 cried for mercy, and offered a feeble show of 
 resistance. A pantomimic struggle ensued. 
 Spears were pointed, nulla-nullas aimlessly 
 hurled. The chant was broken by infuriated 
 yells. The circle closed in : the old men 
 beat their boomerangs toQ^ether in time to 
 the music ; the gins swayed to and fro in 
 a sort of drunken excitement. 
 
 The dance commenced. More logs were 
 thrown upon the bonfires, which blazed up 
 fierce and high. The black forms threading 
 the flames, and bending to and fro in a kind 
 of rhythmic motion ; the outstretched arms 
 and maddened faces with glistening teeth 
 and distended eyeballs, seemed to my fancy 
 to belong to devils rather than to men. 
 The scene realised one's wildest visions of 
 a saturnalia. 
 
 Four or five rude effigies of women, made 
 of saplings and clothed in red blankets, were 
 brought forward. Screams of demoniacal 
 laughter echoed among the gum-trees. A 
 series of hideous gestures was gone through.
 
 JO Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 The figures were mocked with yells of 
 derision : they were thrown down, stamped 
 upon, "set up again, and at last dragged to 
 the central pyre. The dance went on again, 
 wilder than ever. But I felt faint and sick. 
 I was convinced that a human sacrifice was 
 about to be offered. I turned and fled 
 towards the river. Tombo and Ringo 
 followed, and led me back to the house. 
 I crept into my bed and lay shuddering. 
 I did not dare to go for comfort to my 
 parents, who, believing me asleep, were in 
 the verandah watching the red illumination. 
 Alas ! had I described to them the horrible 
 travesty I had witnessed, it is just possible 
 that the Eurogan tragedy might have been 
 averted. 
 
 Late one evening we heard that the 
 Grants' station had been attacked two nights 
 before, and the whole household massacred 
 with the exception of one son, a lad of 
 seventeen. A Naraigin "boy" brought the 
 news. He had been an unwilling witness 
 of the murder, and afraid to remain with
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 71 
 
 his tribe, had fled back to his old haunts, 
 and now, panting and trembhng, told his 
 gruesome tale. 
 
 It was related so circumstantially that 
 there could be no doubt as to its truth ; but 
 before the black boy had ended, confirmation 
 came, and the tidings of another disaster. 
 
 While we sat listening, still transfixed 
 with the thrill of horror that to this day 
 I remember so well, Gaythorne, Monsieur 
 Jacques' overseer, rode up, dismounted, and 
 hitched his horse to the verandah-post. He 
 too was excited and panic-stricken, and for 
 a minute could hardly speak. 
 
 " Mr. Murray, I see that you have heard 
 what has happened," he began. " God have 
 mercy upon the souls of the dead — there's 
 another added to them ! Duncan Grant 
 rode to Boompa yesterday. He'd come 
 straight from looking at the bodies of his 
 mother and his four sisters — these things 
 can't be spoken of — and he had vowed that 
 he would neither eat nor sleep till he had 
 tracked those niorcrers. We caui^ht 'em 
 
 00 o
 
 "ji Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 on Dead Finish Flat. They hadn't hurried, 
 believing that all were settled at Eurogan. 
 There were five of us. The sun was 
 close - up down, and we hadn't a fair 
 chance to run straight. Most of 'em got 
 away, and I believe they've doubled back 
 to the Boompa scrub. Six dead bodies 
 are lying on the Flat, and one of them 
 is Mr. Jackson speared through the heart." 
 
 That was the end of poor Monsieur 
 Jacques. 
 
 The story of the Grants' murder must be 
 told in few words. The details are too 
 sickening. 
 
 No special danger was thought of by the 
 family, who had spent a happy evening 
 together. The drays under charge of the 
 eldest brother were expected shortly, and 
 the day before a letter had been received 
 by Miss Grant from her fiancd fixing the 
 date for their marriage. They had sat 
 talking over future plans till a late hour ; 
 and then, after taking what they con- 
 sidered all necessary precautions in securing
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 'jt, 
 
 doors and windows, had gone peacefully 
 to bed. 
 
 The head station at Eurogan was the 
 usual bush hut of slabs and bark, with three 
 main rooms — parlour, store, and sleeping 
 chamber, occupied by Mrs. Grant and her 
 daughters, a verandah and a skillion room 
 opening off it. Duncan Grant and the 
 youngest son had their bunks in the store, 
 and the tutor and an elder brother slept 
 in the verandah room. Two shepherds 
 whose time was up, had come in that day 
 to be settled with, and were at the men's 
 hut some distance off 
 
 The dogs which might have given an 
 alarm were quieted by a black man employed 
 about the place to fetch up wood and water, 
 and who was in league with the Myalls. 
 
 Thus, the Myalls made an entrance un- 
 heard, and went first to the room in which 
 young Grant and the tutor were sleeping. 
 Grant, disturbed by the noise, got up, and 
 opening the door to see what was the 
 matter, was confronted by Boney — that
 
 74 Sketches of Australimi Life. 
 
 same Boney of whom Captain Payne had 
 been in search. There was a loaded 
 revolver upon the table within reach, but 
 unfortunately the youth had either forgotten 
 it, or had not presence of mind to take it 
 up. He asked what the Blacks wanted, 
 and Boney replied, " Altogether mumkull ; 
 altogether marra white Maries." [" To kill 
 every one ; and to take away the white 
 women."] 
 
 Behind Boney there were a hundred or 
 more armed warriors. Young Grant went 
 out to them and pleaded for his own life and 
 for the lives of his kindred. He offered 
 them everything on the station. He would 
 be their brother, their servant henceforth. 
 He implored that at least they would not 
 marra the white Maries. 
 
 While he poured out his entreaties, a 
 Black stepped behind him and silenced 
 his voice for ever by striking him behind 
 the ears with a waddy. The tutor shared 
 the same fate. 
 
 The two boys in the store, Duncan and
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 75 
 
 his little brother, slept heavily. Duncan was 
 aroused by the younger one's cries, and tried 
 in vain to defend him. The boy's skull was 
 battered in, and Duncan was stunned by a 
 blow from a nulla-nulla. He fell through 
 the space between the bunk and the wall, 
 and lay all night on the ground — it is to be 
 hoped in a state of unconsciousness. 
 
 " Then," continued the Naraigin Black, 
 "black fellow been yan along a Mary's 
 room. Corbdn ole missus talk. ' Boney, 
 what for you mumkull ? Plenty you been 
 brother belonging to me. Plenty I been 
 give you flour, sugar, blanket. Boney, 
 baal mumkull ! Baal marra white Mary, 
 piccaninny belonging to me ' . . . I believe 
 Boney baal want to mumkull ole missus," 
 went on the narrator, " but black fellow 
 plenty woolla, and that been altogether 
 mumkull " 
 
 All ni<T:ht the Blacks held hic:h and 
 horrible revelry. When " Piggi jump up," 
 [the sun rose] they saw the two shepherds, 
 who had heard nothing, and were walking
 
 76 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 towards the water-cask with their coolimans} 
 They also were murdered, and the looting of 
 the station went on. "When Piggi good 
 way up," the boy concluded, "altogether 
 black fellow yan." 
 
 Then Duncan Grant crept out from his 
 hiding-place, and beheld the work of that 
 terrible night. He vowed the vow which 
 has been recorded, and rode straight to 
 Boompa. 
 
 My father and Gaythorne sat up almost 
 till dawn talking over the Eurogan massacre 
 and Mr. Jackson's melancholy fate. Though 
 the former occurrence roused in their minds 
 an intense feeling of horror, I think the 
 latter one affected them both most deeply. 
 Monsieur Jacques had been a good master 
 and, in spite of his eccentricities, beloved by 
 all who knew him. He had also been a 
 frequent visitor at Naraigin, and many were 
 
 ^ Cooliman ; a vessel for carrying water, made out of 
 the bark which covers an excrescence peculiar to a kind 
 of gum-tree. Several coolimans usually hang from the 
 verandah of the men's hut, with a piece of soap on the 
 rafter, and are used for washing in.
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. jy 
 
 the tender and pathetically-comic associations 
 which, in our memories, gathered round his 
 imao-e. 
 
 Gaythorne had been travelling with cattle, 
 and had much to tell of all that was takinof 
 place in the district. It was his conviction 
 that there was a deep-laid plan among the 
 natives to exterminate all the Whites on 
 the Donga ; and that not even the boys 
 employed upon the stations could be relied 
 upon. The treachery of the domesticated 
 Black at Eurogan, and several other in- 
 cidents that he narrated, seemed to confirm 
 his impression. He stoutly maintained that 
 vengeance should be taken not upon guilty 
 individuals, but upon the whole race ; and 
 that all the males should be slaughtered. 
 Till then, he declared, there would be neither 
 peace nor safety. 
 
 Duncan Grant, not resting in his work or 
 remaining to bury the body of poor Monsieur 
 Jacques, had ridden straight after tlie Dead 
 Finish fray to seek the aid of Captain Payne 
 and his band. The troopers were scouring
 
 78 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 the heads of the Donga, and were conducting 
 their operations as secretly as they could. 
 Duncan conjectured that the Blacks, ignorant 
 of the " Marmi's " whereabouts, would make 
 for that broken country, which v/as one of 
 their favourite places of refuge. 
 
 "It's my belief," said Gaythorne, "that 
 he's wrong. They'll double back through 
 the Boompa scrub ; and if we look sharp we 
 shall catch them in the Wild Man's Gorge, 
 biding their time to attack our station. 
 They'll be in no hurry for a night or two, 
 for they are bound to have a corroboree 
 before taking any decisive step. They've 
 threatened Boompa ; and they know we 
 are short of hands. Then settinor aside 
 the loot, there's Gritty Macalister ; and 
 Donga Billy has been boasting that he is 
 eoinof to have her for his mn." 
 
 My father thought of Captain Payne's 
 advice that the squatters should arm a 
 corps of their own. It was agreed that 
 Gaythorne and he should start at daybreak 
 on the best horses in the paddock, should
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 79 
 
 go first to Eurogan and bury the dead, and 
 then, riding in opposite directions along the 
 river, should consult with the other squatters, 
 collect arms and ammunition, and brine 
 back as many recruits as they could to 
 hold a council of war at Narai^in on the 
 next evening but one. 
 
 The news of the Grants' murder had 
 spread like wild-fire through the district ; 
 and more than one squatter was already 
 bound for Eurogan on the same melancholy 
 errand as my father. They found the corpses 
 lying side by side as they had been left 
 by their murderers ; and thus they were 
 buried on a little knoll shadowed by gum- 
 trees, close to the head station. 
 
 My father and Gaythorne returned to 
 Naraigin after their work was done ; and 
 that same afternoon many men rode through 
 the sliprails and turned out their horses — 
 men grim and determined-looking, well armed, 
 and with their blankets before them. 
 
 They all camped that night in the ve- 
 randah ; and preparations were made for an
 
 So Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 early start in the morning. It was decided 
 that Gaythorne's advice should be taken, 
 and the Blacks tracked along Boompa scrub. 
 Our boys, Bean-Tree Dick and Tombo, 
 were brought to the council of war. My 
 father told them that the Blacks were no 
 longer his brothers, and that the Whites 
 intended to punish their race for the evil 
 deeds they had committed, by shooting every 
 Myall Black except women and children. 
 
 Some of the party were for destroying 
 all, and Tombo vehemently urged this 
 course. " Suppose you no kill piccaninnies," 
 he said ; " that fellow by and by, jump up 
 kipper and mumkull you. Suppose you shoot 
 black Maries, baal more piccaninnies." 
 
 Several applauded this reasoning ; but my 
 lather held firm to the traditions of English 
 warfare. 
 
 They set off at early davv-n, a stalwart and 
 picturesque little army, each with carbine 
 slung, and bowie-knife and revolver at his 
 belt, with his roll of red blankets strapped 
 to his saddle-bow, and his puggaree floating
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 8i 
 
 in the breeze. The three black boys, alert 
 and keen-eyed, well armed also, were in 
 advance. We watched them from the 
 Naraigin verandah ride down the hill, and 
 disappear among the thickening gums and 
 she-oaks that bordered the river. 
 
 Late in the afternoon Tombo passed back 
 the word " mandowie " [tracks]. The riders 
 went warily, and ere long saw from a 
 distance the smoke of camp fires. The 
 Blacks were encamped on a small plain 
 surrounded by scrub. They had not tra- 
 velled far, for they were encumbered with 
 plunder, and drunk with success. 
 
 The pursuers left their horses and crawled 
 through the scrub to within a few paces of 
 the game. It was now seen that the mob 
 had divided with the loot, and that this was 
 not the party which had been attacked on. 
 the Dead Finish Flat. 
 
 Believing themselves secure in the shelter 
 of the scrub, the Blacks were eating, 
 smoking, and having high games with each 
 other. Some were cfoincr through the same 
 
 t> t. '•"--'"J-,'
 
 82 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 horrible performance which I had witnessed 
 at the corroboree. One, a disbanded trooper, 
 aeain with his tribe, had a p^un, and was in 
 the act of brinofingf down a crow from a tree 
 near. Gaythorne "covered" him and fired. 
 Each of the squatters selected his man, and 
 the carnage was great. Spears and nulla- 
 nullas were launched at random into the 
 scrub, but did the white men no injury. 
 Several of the Blacks escaped into the bush, 
 but many were slain. The brief twilight 
 became night ; all was then silent in the 
 camp, and pursuit was hopeless. The 
 squatters rode on for a time in the direction 
 of Boompa, where they hoped to surprise 
 another mob. At ten o'clock they camped. 
 All, save one, slept profoundly, wrapped in 
 their blankets, under the open sky ; and the 
 watcher, my father, stepping unheard over 
 the prostrate bodies, thought how easy it 
 would be for the Blacks to surprise the 
 sleepers and man their arms. 
 
 The head station at Boompa was badly 
 situated. Not far from the huts the river
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. %Ty 
 
 ran through a narrow valley, edged on either 
 side by precipitous rocks, along which a 
 horseman might ride for miles without being 
 able to reach the river-bed. Between this 
 fastness and the dwelling-house there was 
 a large Blacks' camp. The natives evi- 
 dently calculated upon being able to 
 hold the entrance to the valley, and to 
 retire into it after havinor committed their 
 
 o 
 
 depredations. 
 
 At sight of the camp, the squatters divided. 
 One party cut off the Blacks from retreat to 
 the river, and opened fire ; the other rode 
 round to the hut, which was barred and 
 barricaded, and within which Gritty Mac- 
 alister sat grim and desperate awaiting her 
 fate. When the relieving army appeared 
 she threw open a door behind, and admitted 
 Gaythorne and some of the neighbours ; but 
 even as she did so a mob of Blacks which 
 had fled from the camp battered down her 
 barricades and rushed in for shelter. They 
 were met by the guns of the white men. 
 Shrieks and frroans echoed throuoh the hut, 
 
 G 2
 
 84 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 and blood flowed freely upon the earthen 
 floor of Gritty's kitchen. 
 
 " Tak your wull on them ; tak your wull 
 on them, gentlemen," she cried out. " Never 
 mind an auld woman ; and for the Lord's 
 sake put an end to Donga Billy." 
 
 It was my father who earned Gritty's 
 eternal gratitude by delivering her from 
 terror of her would-be abductor. Donga 
 Billy was one of the few Blacks who turned 
 and faced their opponents in open fight. 
 This was perhaps the first, and was the 
 last, opportunity which he had in his life 
 of fairly pitting native courage and native 
 weapons against the resources of the white 
 man. My father remembered his challenge, 
 and singled him out for combat. He stood 
 forth bravely, and fought like a man. My 
 father's horse was speared, and he himself 
 had a nasty wound from a boomerang ; but 
 the <7^(;?/(9^/z7 gained the day, and Donga Billy 
 was orathered to his fathers. 
 
 The account of one skirmish much re- 
 sembles that of another. Captain Payne
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 85 
 
 and his troopers, with Duncan Grant and 
 the elder brother who had arrived four days 
 after the outrao^e to find his home desolate, 
 appeared shortly upon the scene, and were 
 joined by the band of squatters. They 
 rode to and fro from one station to another, 
 stalking the camps and slaying every wild 
 Black who came within pistol shot. 
 
 This irregular warfare lasted for several 
 months. By that time almost all the fighting 
 Blacks had fallen, and those who remained 
 thought only of pushing northward. 
 
 Thus the murders of the Grants and of 
 Monsieur Jacques were amply avenged, and 
 after a time the land was at peace. 
 
 Two years later my father sold Naraigin, 
 and we travelled south. Moreton Bay, 
 ashamed of its old convict associations, 
 named itself Queensland, and amid a flourish 
 of trumpets Sir George Bowen, the first 
 Governor, landed at Brisbane. Then began 
 the political life of the colony, and there 
 was a change in the affairs of men. Many 
 of those very squatters who had camped in
 
 86 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 Naraigin verandah and started forth on that 
 raid against the Blacks became members of 
 the Council and Assembly, and, figuratively 
 speaking, exchanged their swords for reaping- 
 hooks. In an Australian Hansard of a few 
 months ago I saw that the Democratic 
 leader of the Opposition — a soft-goods man 
 late of Manchester — had, in a powerful and 
 deeply-affecting speech, held up George 
 Gaythorne, Premier, to the execration of his 
 virtuous countrymen as a murderer against 
 whom the blood of innocent Blacks cried 
 out for veno^eance.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 I OFTEN imagine myself back again in the 
 verandah at Bungroopim. I can so easily 
 fancy that it is spring time, and that I am 
 sitting there enjoying the cool evening breeze 
 which comes rustling through the garden 
 trees, bringing the scent of orange blossoms 
 and heliotrope. The verandah arches are 
 twined with bougainvillea and young grape- 
 vines ; and I look across the race-course 
 where the Blacks have been clearinof the 
 dead gum-trees, to the winding line of 
 creek, the darker bank of scrub, and beyond, 
 to the mountains. 
 
 The Blacks have not done their work yet, 
 for there are a few skeleton trunks remaining ; 
 but they have gone away to gamble their 
 earnings. On the other side of the creek 
 you may see them surrounded by their dogs
 
 88 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 and piccaninnies, playing with a greasy, dirty 
 pack of cards by the camp fires. They have 
 left their traces on the plain, however, in the 
 shape of old gunyahs and piled-up heaps of 
 dry timber. 
 
 An hour ago the scene was a glaring and 
 busy one. The sun beat fiercely down upon 
 a party of fencers engaged in patching up the 
 garden palisade, and all round there were 
 stir and traffic ; but now the sun has dipped 
 behind a distant peak, and, it perchance 
 being Saturday, the men have gone home 
 earlier than usual to their huts. Nature 
 seems very gentle, and the station wonder- 
 fully peaceful. The hills look so close, and 
 the world so far away. Roop's Crag, which 
 is indeed but a mile or two distant, stands 
 out grave and majestic against a clear sky. 
 Now it is suffused with a faint pink glow ; in 
 a few moments it will have changed from 
 rose to purple, and all the far-off peaks 
 will be cflorious. I hear the cracking^ of 
 a black boy's stock whip, and the milkers 
 lowing as they are driven to the yard, and
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 89 
 
 the sheep's bells are tinkling. And here is 
 Peter the Kanaka, with his soft kind eyes, 
 his ebony face and tow-coloured hair, which 
 has been artificially lightened by lime-wash. 
 " Missee Rachel, me want em rations," he 
 says ; and I leave my hammock and go out 
 with him to the store. Or perhaps Peter is 
 in a state of virtuous indignation against an 
 intrusive selector whom he had found a little 
 while ago feeding his sheep in the Bungroo- 
 pim paddock. " Missee, I tell him ' You 
 spose my master grow grass for your sheep ? 
 Round up dog now. Go 'long — quick — cut 
 stick ! ' " Peter might certainly have con- 
 vinced a philanthropical denunciator of the 
 so-called slave traffic, that the kidnapped and 
 oppressed Polynesian is quite capable of 
 defending, not only himself, but his master 
 also. 
 
 We had several islanders at Bungroopim. 
 No one asked, except in the Leijislative 
 Chambers, whether or not they had been 
 forcibly abducted from their homes. They 
 seemed happy and comfortable ; and one or
 
 go Sketches of Australian L ife. 
 
 two begged that they might remain after the 
 three years which constituted their term of 
 slavery had expired. They were employed 
 about the head station, never learning to ride, 
 but fetching wood and water, and doing such 
 domestic work as the soul of the Australian 
 aboriginal abhors. I had an affection for 
 each, but Peter was nearest my heart. 
 Every Sunday he used to come to me for 
 a button-hole bouquet. He was particular 
 about the fit of his clothes, and one day 
 brought for my acceptance a photograph of 
 himself done by an itinerant artist, and 
 proudly pointed to a watch and^chain which 
 had been lent him for the occasion. 
 
 Of his own accord Peter made a little 
 garden round his hut. He dug up the hard 
 soil, and assiduously watered and manured 
 the plot. Great was his delight at being 
 able to supply the house with water-melons. 
 He was fond of animals, and once snared a 
 young dingo, which it was his ambition to 
 bring up as a sheep dog. Needless to say 
 that hereditary propensities frustrated his
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 91 
 
 purpose. The dingo devoured the lambs. 
 Another time he caught a snake alive in a 
 waterhole. He put it in a bottle, and deter- 
 mined that his pet should lack nothing which 
 could make it comfortable, filled the bottle 
 with water, and corked it up tightly. He was 
 greatly disappointed because the reptile died. 
 
 On the subject of snakes one might wan- 
 der indefinitely ; but I cannot help making 
 pictures as they rise in my mind. . . . 
 
 Scorching sun, and the mountains and 
 forest shrouded in a haze of smoke ; the 
 wind burning ; a dull yellowish glare upon 
 the huts and gardens ; the grass brown ; the 
 ground gaping in deep fissures ; the creek 
 nearly dry ; animals with parched tongues 
 lolling out, dying beside the empty lagoon ; 
 the only flowers in bloom, yellow gladioli, 
 pomegranate blossoms, bold brass-coloured 
 bignonias and crimson hibiscus, throwing off 
 heat, and offending eye and soul by their hot 
 coarse colouring. 
 
 The heat intensifies. The smoke is 
 stifling. Far ofl* there are red patches where
 
 92 Sketches of Australia i Life. 
 
 the flames have cHnibed some dead gum- 
 tree. The fire licks up the withered herbage; 
 it advances swiftly. There is a panic. The 
 men are out on the run — and the blady grass 
 grows high near the paddock, and the 
 fences are precious ! Women, islanders, 
 Blacks — we all rush forth, across the race- 
 course, along the creek, and then with green 
 boughs, cut hastily from the young saplings, 
 we beat upon the hungry flames, running 
 from one fiery curve to another, leaving a 
 black and smoking trail, till grimy, perspiring, 
 gasping for breath, we desist — for we have 
 conquered. Oh for a thunderstorm ! But 
 it comes not. . . . 
 
 At night the haze is lurid. Another 
 greater bush fire is stealing to the fore, 
 from the back of the hills. Roop's Crag 
 is outlined against a glowing sky, which sug- 
 gests that the moon has made a mistake 
 and is risinof here instead of behind the 
 Woorara Mountains. Along these, great 
 flaming scorpions are racing each other 
 towards the inaccessible precipices ; while
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 93 
 
 below are innumerable points of light as 
 though a mighty city had risen up suddenly 
 by enchantment. ... 
 
 Or it is a summer evening after a storm, 
 and the earth is eloquent with the voices of 
 many insects. The curlews are wailing in 
 the scrub, and the swamp pheasant makes 
 his gurgling noise by the lagoon. There is 
 a delicious sense of moisture and refreshment 
 in the atmosphere. The verbena throws off 
 fragrance, and the datura at the end of the 
 house is almost oppressively odorous. I am 
 lying in the hammock. Near my feet is a slab 
 wall, where the stag-horn ferns shoot out 
 their antlers, and from the top of which the 
 frogs flop heavily upon the boards. No one 
 minds frogs in Australia ; they are cool, and 
 they are harmless, and chase away terrors of 
 snakes and centipedes. Close to my head a 
 ghostly-looking pillar of rinka-sporiim, which 
 is a mass of white bloom. There is no moon, 
 but the brilliance of the starlight causes every 
 outline to stand forth clear against the hori- 
 zon. One star is passing from behind
 
 94 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 Roop's Crag. I think it is a pointer of the 
 Southern Cross, for the Cross itself Hes over 
 the mountain ; and nearer me, in central 
 heavens, Orion's belt turned upside down. 
 I always wondered what it looked like in 
 England. Someone is singing within ; . . . 
 a plaintive English ballad, in which there is 
 an allusion to Charles's Wain and a winter's 
 eve. The words suggest the unknown — the 
 far-away. Fog, snow — Charles's Wain 
 obscured ! What have they to do with this 
 voluptuous southern night, in which the soul 
 cries for something of which it has never 
 experienced the full taste — music, poetry, 
 religion, something subtle yet comprehensive, 
 something glorious yet melancholy — some- 
 thing, the soul knows not what, it is only 
 conscious that it longs and cries. 
 
 % % % * * * 
 
 It was several years after the Naraigin 
 adventures ; my father had bought Bungroo- 
 pim, and we were settled upon the Ubi. 
 
 This district is one of the most picturesque 
 in Australia. Several rivers have their rise
 
 Sketches of Attstralian Life. 95 
 
 among the mountains, which here divide 
 New South Wales from Queensland, and 
 branching off in different directions flow in 
 ever-widening streams to the Pacific. The 
 country at their heads is wild and broken into 
 steep ridges, gorges, and barren plateaux, 
 where are huge grey boulders scattered hap- 
 hazard, as though a company of Titans had 
 been playing at pitch and toss ; while on all 
 side curious upheavals and indentations speak 
 of a before-time volcanic convulsion. 
 
 The mountains are of no great elevation, 
 but are rugged and grim, and fantastic of 
 outline. Here and there a needle-like peak 
 stands up sharply among rocky or eucalyptus- 
 grown humps, and cloven hills and over- 
 hanging crags seem, at a distance, to take 
 the most grotesque shapes. A grand, wild 
 view is to be had at every turn, and from 
 the shoulders of the range one may look 
 over, as it were, a blue sea, broken by pre- 
 cipitous islets, its land billows stretching to 
 the horizon. The Ubi is remarkable for a 
 greater variety of colouring than the more
 
 96 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 level districts, in which the eye is wearied 
 by the monotonous grey-blue of the euca- 
 lyptus. Here, gum-trees alternate with 
 belts of scrub. The foliage in these is 
 bright green, the flowers and berries many- 
 hued, and there are flame-trees, showing in 
 spring vivid patches of crimson. Cedars, 
 in spring also, violet-plumed, and glossy- 
 leaved ; brilliant-blossomed chestnuts line 
 the creek, while occasionally a clump of 
 weather-beaten firs may be found clinging 
 to the barren hill-sides. 
 
 The Ubi district has been occupied since 
 the earliest days of Australia, and was at 
 this time comparatively civilised. There 
 were Blacks and there were Bunya feasts, 
 for the tree flourished in these parts, but the 
 Blacks committed no serious depredations, 
 and were, like the Bunya, a picturesque 
 feature, in keeping with the scenery. The 
 head stations were more imposing than 
 those upon the Donga. They were built 
 of sawn wood with stone chimneys, and 
 often lined with cedar. Indeed, many of
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 97 
 
 the squatters prided themselves upon the 
 luxurious manner in which their establish- 
 ments were conducted. At one station, not 
 very far from us, there was a billiard 
 table. At another, sherry and port were 
 handed round at dinner, and there were gates 
 instead of sliprails to the paddocks. One 
 or two boasted of bachelor's quarters, where 
 passers-by were entertained, and the owners 
 thus enabled to maintain a reputation for 
 exclusiveness, and to get themselves into 
 bad odour with their neighbours. In 
 populous districts the institution is recog- 
 nised and necessary ; but on the Ubi, where 
 roads were bad and the number of travel- 
 lers not overwhelming, a station with a 
 bachelor's quarters was avoided, and its 
 owner called "stuck up." 
 
 It will be noted that in Australia there 
 are varying degrees of civilisation. No- 
 where, however, does it embrace connoisseur- 
 ship in the matter of claret. In the bush 
 most people drink tea. It appears at every 
 meal, and does not seem to impair the 
 
 H
 
 98 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 digestive organs of those who imbibe it 
 freely. Brandy Hves in the cellaret ; rum 
 is plentiful in the store. The one is brought 
 out for visitors ; the latter is served to the 
 working men. But choice wine is, as Mr. 
 Trollope has explained, a luxury only com- 
 patible with cattle in thousands and sheep 
 in tens of thousands. 
 
 Hospitality of a hearty, rough and ready 
 description abounds. People in Australia 
 take life very easily. Nothing matters 
 much to a squatter except pleuro, the scab, 
 and a change of ministry, which would 
 probably affect the tenure of his run. One 
 person is almost, if not quite, as good as 
 another, and affectation of superior refine- 
 ment is resented and ridiculed. 
 
 A traveller rides up to a station, and 
 hangs his horse's bridle to the nearest 
 fence. The dogs begin to bark, and the 
 Blacks — if there are any about — set up a 
 hullabaloo. Some one comes out, generally 
 the master or mistress. The stranger, if 
 he is a gentleman, or wishes to be thought
 
 Sketches of A7tst7'alian Life. 99 
 
 one, gives his name, and is immediately 
 received, so to speak, into the bosom of the 
 family. He is asked to "spell " his horse for 
 a day, and should he prove agreeable, pressed 
 to stay longer. If he does not give his name 
 — whether he be or be not a gentleman — he 
 is sent to the kitchen or to the huts. This 
 is the simple law of hospitality in the bush. 
 
 We had no " quarters " at Bungroopim ; 
 and as our station was on the boundary 
 line between two colonies, and passers-by 
 were fairly frequent, many curious persons 
 found their way within our doors. My 
 father and brothers spent most days upon 
 the run. My mother had died very soon 
 after we left Naraigin, and I lived in a 
 somewhat isolated and independent fashion. 
 Thus it very often happened that I enter- 
 tained these stray guests alone. Odd types 
 of humanity they were ! I have often re- 
 gretted not having made better use of my 
 opportunities for studying human nature at 
 Bungroopim, and that I did not then realise 
 the value of notes. 
 
 II 2
 
 loo Sketches of Atistralian Life. 
 
 All sorts and conditions of men went by. 
 Upon one occasion, a pale-faced, interesting- 
 looking gentleman rode up, and asked if he 
 might rest his horse for an hour. Of course 
 I invited him to luncheon ; and we sat for 
 a long time in the verandah afterwards, 
 talking of books, music, and English life, 
 with which he seemed well acquainted, and 
 about which my curiosity was rampant. It 
 was a shock to my nerves when the next 
 day the Superintendent of Police and two 
 troopers halted at the station. They 
 were in pursuit of Gentleman Jones, an 
 escaped criminal, and shortly afterwards 
 brought back my entertaining guest In 
 handcuffs. 
 
 Another time, a lean, dark, odd-looking 
 German doctor, with a suspicious gleam In 
 his black eyes, came searching for a petro- 
 leum spring, which he declared that he had 
 once discovered In one of the Bungroopim 
 gorges, and had never been able to find 
 aeain. He trembled with excitement when 
 he spoke of his quest, which seemed to
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. loi 
 
 him as full of mystery and fascination as 
 that in Poe's story of the gold-bug. 
 
 " Mein Gott, Mees!" he exclaimed, rising 
 with one hand upon his heart, while with 
 the other he received from me his cup of 
 tea. " Dat sprung — it is my fate — my El 
 Dorado. I shall what you call strike ile. 
 I shall be rich. Dat is de vill of Gott. 
 But oh, mein Gott ! in dis mountainzbus 
 country, de sun is not de sun ; and de 
 stars — dey are ignes fating 
 
 Then he burst into tears and left the 
 table. He looked so wild that I was 
 relieved when he asked me to sell him a 
 bottle of brandy out of the store, and 
 departed upon his bony nag, which was 
 even leaner than himself. But the sprung, 
 the " mountainzbus country," or the brandy, 
 or all together, were too much for him. 
 He came back in a state of delirizwi 
 tremens, having drowned his horse and lost 
 his blankets. We were glad to be rid of 
 him at the cost of a new horse and saddle 
 and bridle.
 
 I02 Sketches of Aitsti-aliaii Life. 
 
 Again, the sojourner was perhaps a cattle 
 drover. There are two kinds of drover, the 
 rough, frank, ready-handed colonial, whose 
 mental horizon is in ordinary life bounded by 
 the stockyard fence, while the wildest flight 
 of imagination never lands him beyond Syd- 
 ney or Melbourne ; and the English gentle- 
 man who has come down in the world, 
 through drink or misfortune, and who shuns 
 head stations, the society of ladies, and 
 anything that calls back old associations. 
 
 Of the former class, Duncan Campbell 
 was a good specimen. He was long and 
 scraggy, with arms and legs like the sails 
 of a windmill, and a high Roman nose 
 which he had a trick of polishing with his 
 thumb and forefinger till it shone again. 
 He always dressed in a Crimean shirt and 
 riding breeches, and wore — at dinner only — 
 an alpaca coat hastily donned and quickly 
 doffed when the time came for tobacco and 
 grog in the verandah. His voice blended 
 oddly the native drawl and an hereditary 
 Scotch accent.
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 103 
 
 He often came our way with "stores" — 
 otherwise breediriQf cattle. Sometimes he 
 yarded his beasts and stayed the night ; 
 more often only looked in unceremoniously 
 to buy rations, or to shoe his horses at the 
 forge. Then, having accepted at my hands 
 the customary " nobbier," he would sit down 
 for half-an-hour, talking after this wise, of 
 what his head was full — overlanding. 
 
 "You see, Miss Murray, I'm awful short 
 handed. No, you don't catch me tackling 
 a mob like that again with only two men 
 besides myself and three black boys. They 
 had a stampede the other day just under the 
 Crag. My word ! that was a job ; I lost 
 every hoof, had to track 'em down Dead 
 Man's Gorge, and then found eight head 
 missing. You see it is such a place for 
 'possums and wallabis ; and 'possums do play 
 old Harry with the beasts." And then he 
 sigfhed and stroked his nose. 
 
 I suggested that bush cattle ought to be 
 acquainted with the habits of opossums. 
 
 " Ah ! but you see, Miss Murray, a 'possum
 
 I04 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 will jump down from a gum-tree on the back 
 of one of them, and all the rest, when they 
 see him start will cut off without knowing 
 what is the matter. My word ! the way 
 a mob does get up clear when they're 
 frightened is a caution. . . . My word ! 
 I had a good camp last night — a first-rate 
 corner — a fence on two sides and a gully 
 with fine steep banks on another — you 
 know. Wouldn't I like to come across 
 a camp like that every night. . . . Got 
 many snakes here, Miss Murray ? We've 
 been living on 'em for the last week. 
 Couldn't get any meat, you know. Every 
 station we stopped at was just out of 
 meat — going to kill to-morrow or next day 
 — so we had to find carpet snakes. There 
 were plenty in the scrubs and along the 
 creeks. We've eaten ten of 'em in the 
 last five days. I'll be glad, though, to buy 
 a little meat, Miss Murray, if you've got 
 any. 
 
 Then, still discoursing upon his cattle, he 
 would follow me to the meat store ; if, as
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 105 
 
 was usually the case, the overseer and my 
 brothers were out, and gallantly plunging his 
 arms into the brine would bring forth what 
 he wanted, and proceed to weigh it. He 
 would cast his eye round the unsavoury 
 place, with its stillyards, its wooden blocks, 
 heaps of coarse salt and pools of brine, 
 would make a technical remark or two 
 upon the "green hides" stretched along the 
 slab walls, and opine sagely that we didn't 
 go in for killing pleuro beasts like so and 
 so. Then fumbling in his leathern pouch 
 he would produce from a chaos of pipes, 
 tobacco, clasp knives, and bits of string, the 
 price of his purchase, enter the transaction 
 into the day-book to save me trouble, and 
 finally ride back to his beasties. 
 
 I remember well the first time another 
 drover, very unlike Duncan Campbell, called 
 in — a man not to the manner born ; the son 
 of a late magnate of one of the colonies : we 
 saw with self-reproach that he winced under 
 our thoughless comment upon his name. 
 
 He was tall and melancholy-looking, with
 
 io6 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 refined features, large dark eyes, a silky- 
 beard, and consumptive stoop. He wore 
 a very old grey coat with half the buttons 
 off, dragged over the chest in a suggestive 
 manner as if to hide deficiencies. He came 
 in to ask for letters which might be awaiting 
 him. Jennie Marsden, a friend then staying 
 with me, heard his sweet voice and was 
 attracted by its mournful timbre. We came 
 out — a group of merry girls, led him to the 
 drawing-room, and seconded my father's in- 
 vitation to luncheon. He looked at Jennie, 
 and his eyes wandered wistfully round the 
 room as though he liked it. It zuas a pretty 
 room, with French windows opening on to 
 the verandah where the grapes were ripen- 
 inof along- a trellis, and the floor was a mosaic 
 of shadows and sheen ; the unvarnished cedar 
 walls hung with paintings — dear old Time 
 still gazing reprovingly upon more harmo- 
 nious surroundings than those at Naraigin — 
 a piano open ; big squatter's chairs ; flowers 
 everywhere ; books and magazines, photo- 
 graphs and nick-nacks, the surviving relics
 
 Sketches of Atistralian Life. 107 
 
 of an oriental tea service ; kangaroo skins 
 and opossum rugs spread upon the white 
 boards. 
 
 He said that he coukl not stay. He was 
 not fit to 0-0 amone ladies. But for his 
 letters he would not have come in. 
 
 Nevertheless, his eyes looked longingly, 
 and there were old memories in them. We 
 begged him to remain, assured him that bush 
 ways were our ways and that no one thought 
 about clothes at Bungroopim. So he dined 
 with us, gladdened my father's heart by as- 
 suring him of the authenticity of a doubtful 
 Teniers, gazed furtively at Jennie Marsden 
 as though she were a being to be worshipped 
 from afar, and ate his roast chicken, arti- 
 chokes, and custard pudding, with a relish 
 which suggested that he also had been living 
 upon carpet snakes. 
 
 After dinner, I played to him, and Jennie 
 sanof. He bes^ored for the adaoio movement 
 in the sonata pathetique over again, and there 
 were tears in his eyes when Jennie had finished 
 a little song of her own composition which she
 
 io8 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 had set to the weird air of one of Chopin's 
 mazurkas. He went away at bed-time to 
 camp with his cattle and his black boys. I 
 saw him again several times : once, in a 
 London drawino;-room after he had come 
 into his kinordom in Enorland. "Ah!" he 
 said, " I have never forgotten that evening 
 at Bungroopim — the music, the odds and 
 ends that women put about, the sight of 
 yellow-covered CornJiill and dear old Black- 
 zaood on the table. It all took me backwards 
 and forwards in the strangest way. I felt as 
 though I had been let into Paradise for an 
 hour and then sent out again to the dirty 
 blankets, the camp fire, quart pot tea, and 
 the stockmen and their rough ways." . . . 
 
 We very often saw our neighbour Captain 
 Claypole, an ex-dragoon, who was more 
 bushman than bushman. He had a knack 
 of seizing upon the dramatic points of a 
 situation, dressed for his part, and lived up 
 to his background. He had bought a wild, 
 picturesque station on the other side of 
 Roop's Crag, and spent a great deal of time
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 109 
 
 in shooting wild ducks and in exploring the 
 country round him. He was very popular, 
 had a keen sense of humour, and told a story 
 better than any one I know. He was equally 
 at home in the men's huts and in the Darings' 
 drawing-room. The Darings were on the 
 Woorara and considered themselves much 
 more refined, cleverer, and altogether superior 
 to their neighbours on the Ubi. Captain 
 Claypole always brought with him a flavour 
 of English culture. He talked about books 
 and art, about the London world and the great 
 actors and singers with a freshness and en- 
 thusiasm which imparted a new element into 
 our lives. He awakened in me a thousand^ 
 aspirations ; he helped to educate my taste, 
 taught me to love good music, and faintly 
 aroused in me that faculty which, in a greater 
 or less degree, belongs to all imaginative 
 temperaments, of getting outside one's own 
 actual life, and regarding it as a part of a 
 drama in which there is endless variety of 
 pathos and comedy. A poet said to me 
 the other night, " All artists have two souls
 
 I lo S kef ekes of Australian Life. 
 
 — two being-s — that which lives, that which 
 observes." I think Captain Claypole first 
 gave me a gHmmering of that fact. 
 
 There came, too, another neighbour, a 
 young lordHng, a free selector on the river, 
 the introducer of polo into the district, and 
 of prize pigs and art pottery as features of 
 bush life. He was variously addressed as 
 " Your Lordship, Lord Barty, and Mr. Lord 
 Barty," professed to be a thorough-going 
 radical and utilitarian, but was in reality as 
 deeply imbued with caste prejudices as any 
 stripling aristocrat could be. 
 
 Again, our visitor might be the piano-tuner 
 'on his piebald mare, the retailer of Ubi gossip, 
 or perhaps an ex-groom, who, trading upon 
 our confiding reliance upon the unwritten 
 code, sent in his name, won Robina Daring's 
 favour by judicious admiration of her riding, 
 incited us to dance by his admirable whistling 
 accompaninent to the " Mabel," and went 
 about afterwards boasting that he had waltzed 
 with the exclusive and strong-minded belle 
 of the Woorara. This was his revenge for
 
 Sketches of Atistralian Life, iii 
 
 having been treated with indignity at the 
 Darings' station. Or mad Pat Connor — pro- 
 perly the honourable — an unworthy repre- 
 sentative of a long line of ancestors, or a 
 butcher of amorous tendencies, in quest of 
 fat cattle — guest to be consulted and placed 
 at his ease — who would be silent behind a 
 huge album, and cast admiring glances at 
 Robina Daring, or at my pretty sympathetic 
 friend Jennie Marsden. 
 
 These two must have a line of description. 
 Robina was the eldest daughter of a squatter 
 on the Woorara. She was handsome, clever, 
 and " bucolic." She knew all about the dif- 
 ferent breeds on her own river and ours, 
 could expatiate upon the points of a prize 
 bull, and was learned in the matter of horse- 
 flesh. She could sit the worst buck-jumper, 
 and do her day's work on the run like any 
 stockman. She had broken her collar-bone 
 and three of her ribs. She despised weak- 
 ness — or said so. "Weak-minded women 
 are muffs," was her favourite axiom ; but she 
 was not above fondness for dress and admi-
 
 112 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 ration, and flirted after a magnificent fashion, 
 which brooked nothing short of absolute 
 subservience on the part of her adorers. 
 Like Lord Barty, she too had her caste 
 prejudices, and being the scion of an old 
 Woorara family, which dated back three 
 generations, and was in the " first set" when 
 it migrated to Sydney, she held up her head 
 accordingly. But for all this she had a 
 winning frankness, and a womanly capacity 
 for affection, which endeared her to us all. 
 
 Jennie Marsden was a sweet little creature 
 with big shy eyes, and dark curling hair. 
 She had a keen sense of the ludicrous, and a 
 fund of dry humour of which no one ever 
 suspected her. She was very romantic, and 
 wrote stories and sentimental verses for our 
 Bungroopim Magazine. We composed jointly, 
 and courted the muse as we lay among the 
 pumpkins and Indian corn in the cultiva- 
 tion paddock, or while we sat on a log 
 that bridged the river, with the bottle- 
 brush flowers of the ti trees touchinof our 
 shoulders, and bringing a dangerous swarm
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 113 
 
 of bees about her own ears, with the she-oaks 
 moaning softly above our heads, and our bare 
 feet dabbling in the noisily running water. 
 
 The Ubi was not more than a creek here ; 
 but what a lovely, mutinous, brawling, sad, 
 merry, musical, changeable creek it was ! 
 Its channel was perpetually altering, and 
 fresh islets formed every year. In some 
 places it was deep enough to drown a horse 
 and rider. There were strange pools over- 
 hung with arums, deadly and fathomless, with 
 a suspicious rippling in the centre ; and the 
 Blacks told mysterious tales of treacherous 
 whirlpools, and the never-to-be-seen but much- 
 dreaded Bunyip. The river banks were 
 bordered with mulgam bushes, from which, 
 in November, we gathered the wild rasp- 
 berries, and mingling them with gee-bongs 
 and scrub berries, set forth a dessert which we 
 thought worthy of Titania and her fairies. 
 
 At the crossing, where we loved best to 
 sit, the stream ran fast and clear over a 
 pebbly bed, strewn with rock crystals that 
 had been washed down by Hoods from the 
 
 I
 
 114 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 mountains ; and here, its gentle purling, 
 dreamy and spiritual, sounded like a chorus 
 of unearthly voices, idealising the scene, and 
 blending harmoniously with the wild sounds 
 of the Australian bush. In the gum-trees 
 behind, the parrots chattered and the crows 
 cawed, telling each other that a pair of mad, 
 unfeathered bipeds were concocting plots 
 against their peace. Cockatoos took up the 
 story and spread it far and wide, the echo 
 growing fainter and fainter across the pad- 
 dock ; while from the scrub the pigeons gave 
 in their tender ''too zvhee, too zvheey As we 
 sat on the log in mid-stream, we could shut 
 both our hands and crush the perfumed leaves 
 of an aromatic gum ; or we might lean back 
 against an uplifted branch, and let imagina- 
 tion float upward to the wonderful and end- 
 less blue. And then, while we were quite 
 silent, a gay kingfisher would dart before us, 
 and rising again circle round our heads, or a 
 satin bird would perch boldly on the log 
 near us, or a magpie trill forth his song from 
 the ti tree. There was an old mossy stump
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 115 
 
 in the middle of the pool, and sometimes a 
 water-snake miofht be seen crlidineamone the 
 lily leaves that lay on the surface. Above 
 the green line of scrub lay the crest of 
 Roop's Crag, heavy, rock-bound, strongly re- 
 sembling the Tete du Chien. Whenever I 
 visit Monaco, it seems to me that I am 
 gazing on the countenance of a dear familiar 
 friend. Perhaps, but rarely, a horseman, 
 some traveller from over the border, or one 
 of ouri)achelor neighbours from Kandoonbah 
 would ride down the bank to the crossing, 
 start at sight of the two figures perched on 
 the log, and, if not already acquainted with us, 
 give a good day, and enter into conversation 
 as his horse stooped to drink. Could he buy 
 rations ? or was there an old paper at the 
 house that he might take away with him to 
 read at the camp ? He was probably a 
 gentleman, though his moleskins might be 
 dirty, and his grey "jumper" and old 
 felt hat the worse for wear. Then, 
 maybe, whistling the refrain of a song 
 which the breeze bore softly back, he 
 
 I 2
 
 ii6 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 would mount the bank and canter towards 
 the sHprails. 
 
 Jennie had an undeveloped talent for 
 acting, and inoculated me with her taste. 
 We wrote our plays in the corn hut. The 
 wooden bin which held the shelled grain was 
 our table ; the great heap of soft husks which 
 had enveloped the cobs furnished us with a 
 delicious couch. When our plays were writ- 
 ten we rehearsed them on the race-course to 
 an audience of gum-trees, and afterwards 
 performed them in a queer little verandah 
 room lined with pictures from the Illustrated 
 News, and opening into an arbour that was 
 completely closed in by the wide-spreading 
 vines of the Isabella grape. This was our 
 stage, and here Jennie and I ranted to the 
 great edification of various stockmen, fencers, 
 and black boys, who swelled the company of 
 spectators. 
 
 As none of my brothers shared our pro- 
 clivities, the pieces had to be arranged for two 
 performers only. Jennie took the ladies' parts, 
 I the male ones. Our stage properties were
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 117 
 
 neither varied nor extensive. A corked mous- 
 tache sufficiently designated the ardent lover ; 
 and a wig and a long beard of the grey-green 
 moss which hangs from the apple gum, meta- 
 morphosed him into the irate custodian of the 
 lovely heroine. Our plots were of the wildest, 
 sometimes built upon an historical founda- 
 tion — the oddest jumble of anachronisms and 
 improbabilities, and apt to be sensational, 
 philosophical, sentimental, or melodramatic, 
 according to the course of reading we were 
 at the time pursuing. In this matter we 
 were omnivorous, and I am bound to confess 
 that our mental diet was of the most indi- 
 gestible description. We devoured every- 
 thing in the shape of fact or fiction upon 
 which we could lay hands ; and I can only 
 hope that we assimilated more of good than 
 of evil. 
 
 There were a great many books at 
 Bungroopim — books of all kinds, from 
 Paley's Evidences and Thomas a Kempis, to 
 Swedenborg, R6nan, and Harriet Martineau's 
 translation of Comte ; from Ossian's poems to
 
 ii8 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 London Lyrics; from Pamela and Evelina 
 to Miss Broughton's novels ; and, in maga- 
 zines, from the Tatler to Temple Bar. No 
 one could accuse us of deadness to literature, 
 though to the march of public affairs we were 
 absolutely indifferent, and the overthrow of 
 a British Cabinet, or the fall of a European 
 dynasty, was to us of far less importance 
 than the ddnowiient of a serial story, upon 
 which from month to month we had been 
 speculating. 
 
 At fourteen, the age at which I was 
 emancipated from the schoolroom, and, so 
 to speak, turned loose into this varied 
 pasture, I had naturally the most confused 
 notions of the outer world — the world beyond 
 the gum-trees and the Ubi Mountains — 
 beyond the Australian shores and the Pacific. 
 Nevertheless, it seemed very real to me, 
 more real perhaps than that in which I lived. 
 It was a wonderful and romantic world — far 
 more beautiful then in fancy than now in 
 fact. To Jennie and me, Europe was a 
 brilliant paradise. There, were gathered
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 119 
 
 together the associations of the past, the 
 glories of the present. It was the land of 
 poetry, history, and drama, in direct contrast 
 to our own big, humdrum, wooded desert, 
 which was without a past and without 
 romantic associations. 
 
 Here, the mountains were the only monu- 
 ments, and there were no traditions, no his- 
 tories, save such as the legend of Wooraljee 
 the mighty chief whom Wooldanah, the Great 
 Spirit, had turned into a rock at the mouth 
 of the Ubi, and whom the natives pelted with 
 stones when they wanted " walla to come up," 
 that is to say, when they desired rain ; of the 
 fights of the tribes ; or hard money-grubbing 
 tales of fortunes that had been amassed, and 
 gold-mines discovered. Here, all the men 
 were too busy in tending cattle and sheep, in 
 buying and selling, in fetching wood and 
 water, to give any thought to art or poetry — 
 with indeed one exception — that of Mr. 
 Kerrouel, my brothers' tutor. Mr. Kerrouel 
 was of French extraction, and strongly re- 
 sembled the portraits of beautiful brilliant
 
 I20 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 Edgar Allan Poe. He had the same ex- 
 pansive brow, and the same conformation of 
 mouth and chin. His fiery impassioned 
 verses seemed modelled upon those of his 
 prototype, but unlike him Mr. Kerrouel was 
 quiet, taciturn, and only happy when away 
 from the haunts of men, wandering among the 
 mountains with his Xenophon or. Homer. 
 
 But, there in Europe, troubadours had 
 sung, and prophets had preached. There, 
 monarchs had reio^ned — kinofs of men and 
 queens of hearts. There, empires had grown 
 and decayed away, and dead ages had 
 heaped up trophies. Our imaginations took 
 no account of commonplace millions, but 
 peopled that land with godlike beings whom 
 we knew through their works. 
 
 Sometimes we wrote to some particular 
 author, giving childish expression to the de- 
 light and admiration with which his or her 
 books had inspired us. I wonder that none 
 took any notice of the feeble cry from the 
 wilds. Occasionally I meet in mundane 
 intercourse one of those great ones to whom
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 121 
 
 Jennie and I penned a reverential epistle. It 
 is strano^e to touch the angrel's winQfs and to 
 find the down rubbed off — a hackneyed ex- 
 perience ; yet have not even the most hack- 
 neyed experiences pathos and strangeness 
 when they come into the circle of our own 
 lives ? 
 
 We had our magazine at Bungroopim, 
 suggested of course by the famous Bronte 
 periodical of which Mrs. Gaskell tells, I 
 think that we were all conscious of our de- 
 fects In the matter of solid education, and 
 had a laudable wish that they should be 
 remedied. We each tried to contribute 
 every month, an essay upon some eminent 
 person or subject necessitating serious study. 
 We did not always succeed, and it must be 
 owned that fiction and poetry were in the 
 ascendant. My brothers, busy all day upon 
 the run, were not energetic contributors, and 
 the burden of the Bungroopim MovitJily was 
 chiefly sustained by Jennie Marsden, myself, 
 and any girl friend of scribbling tendencies 
 who might happen to be with us. Other
 
 122 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 interests had usurped its place before Mr. 
 Kerrouel came to us, or his genius might 
 have raised it to a higher level. At any 
 rate, it afforded us a good deal of harmless 
 amusement, and gave us occupation during 
 the long winter evenings, when we were 
 wont to gather round the huge wooden 
 fireplace — so many eager spirits full of 
 activity, which in some fashion or other 
 must have found vent. 
 
 On the first of the month, after dinner, the 
 magazine was produced, and each went 
 through the penance of reading aloud his 
 or her own paper. 
 
 Often our party was reinforced by Captain 
 Claypole, or one of our bachelor neighbours ; 
 and there were always two or three new 
 chums on the station, legitimate butts for 
 practical joking and laboured witticisms. 
 One young man, Van Helmont by name, 
 was a sure draw upon all occasions, for he 
 was very conceited, very self-confident, and 
 excessively stupid. He was small and ugly, 
 with ferret-like eyes and a skin covered with
 
 Sketches of Atistralian Life. 123 
 
 pimples, and a wonderful mop of red hair 
 which always stood on end. He was rough, 
 uncouth, and ill-educated, but believed him- 
 self irresistible. As he was constantly falling 
 in love, the rebuffs he encountered were 
 numerous ; yet notwithstanding, he was never 
 abashed. His arrival at Bungroopim was 
 heralded by the following letter, written to 
 one of my brothers, whose acquaintance he 
 had made when droving cattle in the north. 
 It is perfectly genuine, and is worthy of pre- 
 servation if only as exemplifying the free-and- 
 easy manner in which hospitality is dispensed, 
 and taken for granted, in Australia : — 
 
 " My dear Murray, junior, 
 
 " I have a scheme in my cobra which 
 I am going to unfold to you, strictly in 
 confidence at present. 
 
 " The scheme Is for me to come down to 
 the Ubi and see if I can get a wife. 
 
 " I have lately come into about 200/., so 
 I think that I am quite justified in taking 
 to myself a wife ; but I am not altogether
 
 124 Sketches of Australian Life, 
 
 satisfied with the young ladies of the north. 
 I have heard that there are lots of nice girls 
 on the Ubi, and think some of them might 
 be glad of a husband. What is your opinion 
 on the matter ? 
 
 " Then I want to ask if you think that 
 Mr. Murray would let me come and make 
 Bungroopim my head quarters for five or 
 six months, with liberty to come and go at 
 my pleasure, though I should be willing to 
 do something for my grub if required. Also, 
 do you think that in the event of my coming 
 you could let me have the use of a couple 
 of horses for a time, as I want to be as 
 economical as I can '^ And if so, could they 
 be sent to the township to meet me on my 
 arrival ? And also, in case you know any 
 young lady in particular who might be per- 
 suaded to cast in her lot with mine, I will 
 just give you an idea of the sort of girl 
 I want. 
 
 " Any age from twenty to twenty-six 
 would do. She must be used to the bush, 
 and able to wash and cook for herself if
 
 Sketches of Azisiralian Life. 125 
 
 necessary ; all the better if she has no rela- 
 tions, and one with a little money preferred. 
 And she must be of the same religion as 
 myself, though that would not be of great 
 consequence, as I mean to settle on the 
 Ubi, and from all I hear, you are not much 
 troubled with parsons there. 
 
 " Please write by return of post, and 
 
 " Believe me, yours truly, 
 
 *' Henry Van Helmont." 
 
 My father treated the matter in a good- 
 natured spirit ; and Mr. Van Helmont was 
 made welcome. But he got so unmercifully 
 chaffed about his matrimonial intentions in 
 the pages of the Bungroopini Monthly and 
 in other quarters, that for some time he 
 scarcely dared to hint at his projects. He 
 did his best, however, to carry them out, 
 and did not leave us till he had been rejected 
 by almost every young lady on the Ubi and 
 on the Woorara.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Van Helmont was certainly justified in 
 his remark that we were not much troubled 
 with parsons on the Ubi. For four years 
 we lived in a state of spiritual darkness, and 
 the itinerant preacher— described by one of 
 our black boys who had come from a more 
 religious district as " that fellow white man ; 
 plenty woolla ; been wear him shirt outside 
 of trousers " (an allusion to the surplice) — 
 was a being practically unknown to us. It 
 was therefore quite an unprecedented event 
 when my brother Jim, on a stock-riding 
 beat, met one of these gentlemen in straits 
 about crossing the range, and uncertain as 
 to the direction of the Woorara, whither he 
 was bent. Jim undertook to pilot him on 
 his way, but led him down a steep crossing 
 and into a quicksand instead, whereby the
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 127 
 
 clerical buggy was broken and the horse 
 partially engulfed. Jim came hurrying back 
 to Bungroopim for Peter the Kanaka and 
 the cart mare, and finally brought back the 
 clergyman, who contentedly acquiesced in 
 the arrangement, remarking that it was 
 an indication there were no souls fit to re- 
 ceive salvation " over there ; " which, as Jim 
 remarked, was rough upon " over there." 
 
 In the evening the Bibles and prayer- 
 books were mustered, the stockmen, servants, 
 and Kanakas called in, and we all listened 
 to an extemporaneous discourse, which Jim 
 averred was an insult to our souls and 
 to our understandings. The preacher was 
 of the fire -and -brimstone sort, and evi- 
 dently regarded salvation as a marketable 
 commodity of which the Church had the 
 monopoly. 
 
 There had been a young lady of his ac- 
 quaintance who moved in the 'ighest circles 
 and was endowed with the most elegant 
 traits of mind and body. Van Helmont 
 pricked up his ears at the mention of this
 
 128 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 fascinating individual ; but his countenance 
 fell again — she was named Mary Hann. 
 Mary Hann had been repeatedly warned 
 by her spiritual pastors and masters of the 
 terrible penalties which would follow the 
 course of worldliness and vanity which she 
 pursued. But Mary Hann declined to give 
 up dancing, dress, and dissipation, and the 
 'ighest circles still held their own. She was 
 seized with typhus fever ; and after he had 
 harrowed and convulsed us by a graphic 
 description of her physical sufferings, the 
 narrator brought us to her death-bed. 
 
 Having become unconscious, Mary Hann 
 gave vent to the most 'artrending groans. 
 " Mary Hann ! " said her faithful adviser 
 " what mean those hunearthly — these 
 hagonising 'owls ? " Feeling this to be a 
 telling point, the preacher reiterated his 
 question in tragic tones, fixing the round- 
 eyed Kanakas with a stern and indignant 
 gaze. 
 
 Of course Mary Hann was being treated to 
 a preliminary glimpse of the Liferno to
 
 Sketches of Australia^i Life. 129 
 
 which she had danced herself. At last 
 her biographer allowed her to go down to 
 an eternity of torment where, as he phrased 
 it with more regard to sound than sense, 
 " weeping weeps for h'aye, and walling 
 wails for h'ever ; " and then the benediction 
 was pronounced. 
 
 No wonder that the squatter and his 
 belongings looked upon bush clergymen as 
 a nuisance ! After this visitation we were 
 left for some time in peace ; and the next 
 occasion upon which I came into contact with 
 a member of the ecclesiastical fraternity was 
 not at Bungrooplm but at Targlnle, Captain 
 Claypole's station across the border. 
 
 The Woorara was more blessed than the 
 Ubi, or perhaps the bishop of our sister colony 
 was happier in his choice of shepherds than 
 our own episcopal head. The dean of that 
 diocese, who every three or four years 
 made the tour of the district, and married 
 or christened as occasion required, was of 
 a different type to the biographer of Mary 
 Hann. He was cultivated, energetic, 
 
 K
 
 130 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 practical, very popular among the settlers, 
 and a good representative — alas ! a rare one 
 — of the Kingsleyan school of muscular 
 Christianity. 
 
 That impromptu visit to Targinie, when 
 we made acquaintance with the dean, was 
 rather an amusing episode in our monoto- 
 nous life. Captain Claypole, who loved 
 nothing better than a camping-out picnic, 
 had long been planning an excursion to 
 Cape Clangour, at the mouth of the 
 Woorara, and to a little cedar-cutting settle- 
 ment at the promontory's neck. So, one 
 morning in autumn, it being slack time at 
 Bungroopim, four of us, Jennie Marsden, 
 Mr. Kerrouel, the poet tutor, Jim, and 
 myself, determined to ride over to Targinie 
 to see if the scheme could not be carried 
 out. 
 
 The ride across the range was most pic- 
 turesque, the track stony and difficult, 
 winding up steep hills, skirting precipices, 
 and descending broken gullies, but at every 
 turn offering a delicious peep into some
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 131 
 
 ferny ravine, or the view of a mountain 
 pass, or bold stretch of landscape. Roop's 
 Crag on one side, the Woorara Mountains 
 on the other, one peak in especial perfectly- 
 inaccessible, and — as we paused upon the 
 highest part of the range — towering before 
 us, scarred and rock-bound, with a forest 
 of white gums standing forth in strong 
 relief against the dull grey wall. 
 
 Jim, who was a youth of aspirations, had 
 been lamentino- to Mr. Kerrouel the want 
 
 o 
 
 of those grand sights and inspiring influ- 
 ences for which his soul yearned. 
 
 " Now," he exclaimed, " if I were to go 
 to Europe, and could just get a squint at 
 some of the pictures and the statues, and 
 the old castles, and the Alps — just think o 
 snowy mountains, Mr. Kerrouel, and look 
 at that ! — why, I bet that if I could have 
 a trip home, I'd do something yet," 
 
 The tutor reined in his horse, and gazed 
 before him, and then, rebukingly at the 
 young colonial — 
 
 " Jim," said he, " that's the finest thing 
 
 K 2
 
 132 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 of its kind I've ever seen. That's worth 
 coming all the way from England to 
 look at." 
 
 Jim stared, and contemplated the ravine 
 below, the sombre forest, the ghostly, white 
 trees, the stern mountain. 
 
 ''That!" cried he. "Why, what's that, 
 Mr. Kerrouel ? It's only a bit of scrub and 
 a few gums. And, my word ! a rare place 
 to find nuggets ! " ^ 
 
 We met a pair of policemen at the Tar- 
 ofinie crossing^. 
 
 " You haven't come across a queer-looking 
 cove on foot about the border ? " said the 
 chief. " He is a horse-stealer, and a real 
 dangerous char^^ter. I've been telling the 
 Captain up there to arrest him if he turns 
 up at Targinie. It's pretty clear that he 
 has followed Graeme's Creek, thinking it 
 the river, and he's bound to come back, for 
 he can't get out of that country." 
 
 We had not seen anything of the dan- 
 gerous chsiracter ; and the policemen went 
 ^ Unbranded calves.
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 133 
 
 on their way. Captain Claypole ran down 
 to the sliprails to meet us, and asked the 
 same question, his handsome eyes bright 
 with excitement. 
 
 He presented a most comical appearance ; 
 a white apron tied round his waist, his felt 
 hat fastened under his chin, a large brush 
 in one hand, his clothes spattered, and his 
 whiskers plastered. He told us that he was 
 whitewashing his dairy, and on the look-out 
 for the horse-stealer. 
 
 " I shall bail him up with my whitewash- 
 brush," said he. " I've sent the boys to track 
 him. Go up the yard, Jim and Kerrouel ; 
 turn out your horses and carry in the ladies' 
 swag. You could not have come at a better 
 time. The Dean will be here to-night — 
 carrying the Gospel to the cedar-cutters at 
 Cape Clangour. He wants me to pilot him, 
 and so we can make our long-talked-of 
 expedition in good company. The missus 
 is making pies. You'll see her in the 
 kitchen. Tell her we shall want a few 
 more."
 
 134 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 There we found Mrs. Claypole — a Juno 
 manipulating a rolling-pin. She was the 
 most refined, cultivated, and dignified of 
 women. We were a little in awe of her 
 because she was so very European. How 
 she contrived to adapt herself to the rough 
 Australian life she led remains still a 
 mystery to me ; but she always said that 
 she was very happy. 
 
 We went back to Captain Claypole, who 
 was still energetically whitewashing, with 
 one eye upon the crossing. Presently, old 
 King Combo, with the knowing look peculiar 
 to his race, and his finger on his lips, came 
 up from thence. 
 
 " S-s-s ! " he whispered. 
 
 " You been see white man without yarra- 
 man ? " asked Captain Claypole. " Baal 
 budgery that fellow." 
 
 "Yohi," replied Combo; "he come up 
 along a humpey." And almost at the words 
 the individual in question appeared upon 
 the scene. 
 
 Captain Claypole approached him, bran-
 
 Sketches of Australian Life, 135 
 
 dishing the whitewash-brush ; and a few 
 questions established the fact of his identity 
 with the "dangerous char^^ter." The un- 
 fortunate creature, however, looked' so lean, 
 woe-begone, and utterly harmless, that moved 
 between pity and laughter we implored 
 aside that he might be allowed to go 
 in peace. 
 
 " I must do my duty as a magistrate," 
 said Captain Claypole, sternly. " My good 
 man, I'm extremely sorry, but I have reason 
 to know that you have stolen a horse. I 
 must therefore arrest you. You had better 
 give in quietly." 
 
 Here the brush was raised with a me- 
 nacing gesture in such odd contrast with 
 the whitewash-bespattered garments, that 
 Jennie and I laughed unfeelingly. 
 
 "You look hangry," said Captain Clay- 
 pole. " Oh, you have had no grub for two 
 days! Then come along. I'm going to 
 give you a good tuck-in ; but I shall guard 
 you carefully all the time, mind." 
 
 He marched off with his prisoner, and
 
 136 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 both remained for some time shut up in the 
 dining-room ; but by and by, after the poHce 
 had returned, and had triumphantly borne 
 away the criminal handcuffed, our host came 
 in with the Dean, who had now arrived, and 
 to whom he was narrating the occurrence in 
 his dramatic fashion. 
 
 " I took him into the dining-room, and, 
 by Jove ! I could not help knocking the 
 top off a bottle of Bass for him." (Captain 
 Claypole had never become sufficiently 
 colonial to relish tea at every meal ; he 
 spent a fortune in bottled ale, which, at 
 great further cost and difficulty, he carted 
 over the range.) "Mr. Dean, you should 
 have seen that man's face when I asked 
 him whether he preferred it to rum. My 
 heart warmed to him, ' He has been a 
 British workman,' said I to myself. Poor 
 devil ! how he did tuck in ! I thought at 
 first that it might be unwise to trust him 
 with a knife ; but he did not look the 
 audacious ruffian Macnab had made him 
 out, and I took care he should see that I
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 137 
 
 had put copper caps on my revolver. So 
 I went on with my English letters, and 
 presently he asked if there were a mail 
 going out soon, and would I give him a 
 bit of paper and an envelope, as he wished 
 to write to his wife. I got him what he 
 wanted, and he sat looking at the paper 
 for ever so long, and at last laid his head 
 down upon his arms and blubbered like a 
 child. I had not got any secure place to 
 lock the poor beggar up in, and was seriously 
 considering whether I should place him 
 under your surveillance, Rachel Murray, 
 and leave a fast horse ready saddled in 
 the yard, when Macnab came back and 
 saved me from imperilling my magisterial 
 reputation. But, by Jove ! the fellow didn't 
 look like a low colonial horse-stealer. The 
 moral sensibilities of a man who prefers 
 Bass's ale to rum can't be completely 
 blunted." 
 
 The Dean was burly and unclerical in 
 appearance, with a clean-shaven, humorous 
 face, and eyes that looked in opposite
 
 138 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 directions. He was extremely jovial, except 
 when in the pulpit (metaphorically speak- 
 ing) ; and then an alarming gravity settled 
 upon his blunt features, and his squint 
 became almost aggressive. 
 
 When dinner was over, he held an im 
 promptu service in the dining-room, after 
 which we adjourned to the verandah, dis- 
 cussed the Cape Clangour expedition, and 
 sang Christy Minstrel melodies, the Dean 
 joining in " Ten Little Niggers " with 
 great gusto. 
 
 Our concert was interrupted by discordant 
 yells from the Blacks' camp, and King Combo 
 and Ubi-Boney, the veterans of the tribe, 
 who had quarrelled over the possession of an 
 elderly gin, rushed towards us — Combo be- 
 hind, flourishing the boomerang with which 
 he had been belabouring his foe, Boney in ad- 
 vance, blood spirting from shoulder-wounds 
 and running down his naked sides, while he 
 shrieked piteously for protection. 
 
 Captain Claypole separated the combatants, 
 and Boney threw himself upon the verandah
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 139 
 
 and began to kick up his legs behind, a 
 sign that the Black considers death imminent. 
 The Dean bound up his wounds, and Captain 
 Claypole administered doses of rum, which 
 had a magical effect in quieting him. Combo, 
 who had been sitting sulkily apart muttering 
 threats of vengeance, as soon as the rum 
 was produced, flung himself down, howled, 
 and kicked up his legs also. No one took 
 any notice of his proceedings, and he called 
 out in aggrieved tones, " I say, Claypole, 
 what for you no come and give me rum, 
 mine close up bong too, I believe." 
 
 The Dean settled the dispute. King 
 Combo magnanimously resigned his preten- 
 sions in consideration of receiving a nobbier 
 and two figs of tobacco ; and the black gin 
 led Boney back to the camp, not alto- 
 gether satisfied that he had the best of the 
 bargain. 
 
 We started the next morninuf, and followed 
 down the Woorara to the little settlement of 
 Thylungera. It was built in a clearing sur- 
 rounded by scrub — a cluster of bark and slab
 
 140 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 huts sloping down to the river, which here 
 was broad and shallow, and encumbered by 
 the great logs that in flood-time floated down 
 to the port. The men — small farmers and 
 cedar-cutters — were a rude independent set. 
 They worked hard all day, and slept heavily 
 at night. They had no books, and never 
 saw an English newspaper. Of the world 
 they had no knowledge. Rank was a word 
 not in their vocabulary ; the prestige of noble 
 birth incomprehensible to them. Lord Barty 
 once rode that way. They were told that 
 he w^as the son of a peer, and asked Mr. 
 Kerrouel what that meant. Yet it was 
 curious to see how in a dim way they recog- 
 nised and admired the tutor's genius. He 
 was not perfectly happy in these expeditions. 
 With his little white hands and white cuffs, 
 and nervous shrinking from exertion, he was 
 unfitted for the sport and rough play at 
 cutting trees which delighted the Dean and 
 Captain Claypole. The latter threw himselt 
 with dramatic ardour into the situation ; but 
 Mr. Kerrouel preferred to wander alone in
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 141 
 
 the scrub reading Greek or scribbling poetry. 
 I heard one of the men say once, with many 
 expletives, as he watched the Dean, Captain 
 Claypole, and Jim hewing saplings, in order 
 to partition off an unused hut for our accom- 
 modation, and then let his eyes rest upon 
 Mr. Kerrouel, who sat in an inspired mood 
 a little way apart under a quantong-tree : 
 "Well, for squatters and parsons — mind you, 
 I says for a — squatter and a — parson, you 
 he's the hardest-working coves I ever set 
 eyes on ; but it's them big foreheaded, white- 
 handed chaps that's worth a price. They're 
 a deal better nor us." 
 
 We stayed two days at Thylungera. The 
 men eyed the Dean with suspicion at first, 
 and the women stared at us as if we had 
 come down from the stars ; but as soon as 
 they saw that we could fend for ourselves 
 and knew how to make a damper, they 
 began to look upon us as not so far re- 
 moved from their comprehension, took us 
 into their huts, and placed all they had at 
 our disposal.
 
 142 Sketches of Australian Life, 
 
 The Dean inquired if it would be agreeable 
 to the community were he to hold a service. 
 The men looked doubtfully at each other, 
 and one, a red-faced, shock-headed fellow, 
 stepped forward and replied not too 
 graciously, " Well, yes ; if it pleased the 
 parson. They weren't much used to long- 
 coated gentlemen ; hadn't seen one for ten 
 years. Didn't know if there was a prayer- 
 book among 'em ; and on the whole, well, 
 he didn't fancy that church was much in 
 their line, and he thought they'd rather not — • 
 if it was all equal," 
 
 The Dean asked if there were no cere- 
 monies they wished performed : christenings, 
 marryings, or — he was going to say burials, 
 but paused and added : " You don't look 
 as though the death-rate were high here- 
 abouts." 
 
 The man laughed. " There aren't no 
 corpses waiting for the prayers to be said 
 over 'em," he answered. "When any of 
 us go off the hooks we bury each other. 
 Most of us are spliced all reg'lar, and most
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 143 
 
 of us has got kids ; and nearly all running 
 about. There don't seem to be much use 
 in fixing a name on to a young un that 
 answers to its call already." 
 
 Then one of the women came forward. 
 The two held a little consultation, and 
 presently it was given out that there was 
 a baby on the settlement which did not 
 answer to its name, being only two months 
 old ; that the mother had a weakness in 
 favour of christenings, and that the father 
 thought this would be a suitable occasion 
 for a spree. But there was no rum at 
 Thylungera, and a spree without a rum 
 plum-pudding would be an impossibility, 
 therefore the Dean must defer the ceremony 
 till all things vv^ere ready ; and a man was 
 started for the township, forty miles distant, 
 to buy the plums and the rum. The latter 
 he imbibed freely on the road, evidently 
 having reasoned to himself that the labourer 
 was worthy of his hire, and arrived the next 
 afternoon very red in the f^ice and much 
 muddled in his faculties.
 
 144 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 The neighbours congregated in the rough 
 hut of unplaned slabs, through the chinks 
 of which the sun entered, shedding fantastic 
 gleams upon the mud floor. The Dean put 
 on his surplice and took up his position at 
 the head of the rude table, a pie dish serving 
 as the font. I was asked to be one of the 
 sponsors. The father held the baby, the 
 other godfather — he who had gone for the 
 rum — ranged himself beside me, while the 
 mother tended the pudding by the great 
 open fire-place. 
 
 The Dean's face assumed its professional 
 expression, and his squint became appalling. 
 One eye was fixed hard upon the rum- 
 fetcher, who shuffled and looked confused. 
 "Hath this child been already baptised?" 
 asked the Dean severely. 
 
 " Baptised ! " echoed the godfather, 
 scratching his head, for he did not under- 
 stand the word, or follow the drift of the 
 question, " I'm damned if I know, but I'll 
 ask Bet." 
 
 Whereupon Bet turned from the pudding
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 145 
 
 and parenthetically abused the rum-fetcher for 
 being a fool. The Dean called her to order 
 and the ceremony then proceeded to every 
 one's satisfaction. The Dean improved the 
 occasion by an extemporaneous discourse, 
 adapted particularly to the practical needs 
 and spiritual difficulties of the little com- 
 munity, with a spice of dry humour here 
 and there, that fetched the men considerably- 
 It was an admirable sermon, and made us 
 wish that we, froward sheep, on the Ubi, were 
 ministered unto by such a shepherd as the 
 Dean. At its conclusion the women beofeed 
 him to stay longer and preach again ; and 
 the shock-headed cedar-cutter, who had been 
 spokesman in the first instance, said he 
 wished he'd knowed sooner that there would 
 have been such a deal of sense in the 
 parson's gab. We all helped to eat the 
 rum plum-pudding ; and then broke up camp 
 and started for Cape Clangour, parting 
 company with the Dean, who was going 
 inland next day to visit another station. 
 The cedar - cutters had cleared a track 
 
 L
 
 146 Sketches of Attslralian Life. 
 
 through the scrub. It skirted the river ; 
 and we rode in single file, making a halt 
 every now and then to gather chucky- 
 chuckies — as the blacks name that most 
 delicious of native berries — which drooped 
 temptingly at the river's side, or to stretch 
 vainly after a parasite lily growing high 
 above our heads, or to inhale the fragrance 
 of wild jasmine, or to exclaim at the glory 
 of blossom and greenery that every turn 
 exhibited. 
 
 The vegetation here was beautiful and 
 luxuriant. The bright orange of the chest- 
 nut's flowers contrasted brilliantly with its 
 glossy leaves ; the orchids looked like curi- 
 ous and many-hued insects, and the sombre 
 creepers twined in serpent-like withes round 
 the trunks of dead trees from which stag- 
 horn ferns extended their antlets, while 
 arums lifted their cowled heads, and spread- 
 ing tree-ferns gave a tropical appearance to 
 the rocky dells in which they grew. 
 
 Then, where the Woorara joined the sea, 
 there came a long stretch of dry, hard sand,
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 147 
 
 over which we cantered, the waves crawling 
 up and breaking at our horses' feet ; and at 
 dusk we crossed the neck of the cape over 
 undulating hills, lightly wooded, to a lovely- 
 green hollow closed in by palms. Here we 
 camped for the night ; but almost before 
 dawn we were on horseback again, for to 
 see the sun rise from Cape Clangour was 
 the end and aim of our expedition. 
 
 Seen from afar, the lone old promontory lay 
 stretched upon Ocean's bosom, enshrouded in 
 mist as by a veil of dusky hair. Wind-swept, 
 scarred, and barren, save for a few clumps 
 of weird-looking breadfruit trees with their 
 spiky roots that clung defiantly to the soil, 
 Cape Clangour seemed indeed, the "utmost 
 of the land." 
 
 We dismounted and stood upon the bluff 
 headland. The Pacific was spread before 
 us, meeting the horizon line. Its billows 
 heaved and swelled in a never-ending moan. 
 They crashed against the rocks below us, 
 and sobbed more gently upon the curving 
 beach that seemed like a line of silver, and 
 
 L 2
 
 148 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 was lost beneath the sombre pine-forests and 
 grey cliffs of a distant range. Far to the 
 right rose a grim and warning peak not 
 touched yet by the sun's rays, which, like 
 love-light from the eyes of a beautiful 
 woman, were softly illumining the face of 
 the sea. 
 
 For some time none of us spoke. We 
 all moved apart as though each soul of us 
 longed for full air and space in which to make 
 it bound outward to the Infinite. A great 
 rock sheltered me. I leaned against its em- 
 bracing hollow ; my feet were firmly planted, 
 and I felt alone in the universe. There 
 are moments when aspiration takes such 
 force that physical consciousness becomes 
 deadened, and existence merged in yearning 
 towards the spiritual. We knoiv in such 
 rare moments that there is a spiritual world, 
 so vivid and real, that, in comparison, the 
 material world is but as illusion. 
 
 It is when I am in some wild solitary 
 place, little trodden by foot of man, when 
 the winds buffet and fan me, when the sun
 
 Sketches of Atistralian Life. 149 
 
 kisses me, when the wide sky is above and 
 around me, the ocean before me, when no 
 barrier intervenes between sea and heaven, 
 and the warm magnetism of the earth vivi- 
 fies my frame — it is then that I feel borne 
 in upon me that God is in nature, and that 
 through sympathy with nature we come 
 closest to Him. Then all the old myths 
 appeal to me with deep and solemn mean- 
 ing. Something in my being tingles and 
 throbs. I yearn after purity, after beauty, 
 after might and vastness, with a fervency 
 that is prayer in its highest sense, for it is 
 tinged by no personal desire, or even by the 
 consciousness of voluntary devotion. 
 
 I wish that it were possible to express in 
 words the vague ecstasy which has often 
 seized me when I have been wandering 
 alone in the Bush — an ecstasy due to no 
 other agency than the influence of nature 
 untainted by civilisation. This state — feel- 
 ing I cannot call it — is rare with me now. 
 The vivid recollection of that morning at 
 Cape Clangour, recalls other hours of the
 
 150 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 purest happiness. Exaltation blending with 
 delicious melancholy — for those who have 
 analysed emotion, especially the kind expe- 
 rienced under these influences, will know 
 surely, that joy is never so intense as when 
 it is touched with mournfulness. 
 
 # # # >;:= * 
 
 After the Cape Clangour expedition, Jim 
 and Mr. Kerrouel went back to Bungroopim, 
 and Jennie and I stayed on for several weeks 
 at Targinie. 
 
 It appeared that dangerous characters were 
 at this time plentiful along the borders. A 
 little while before the word had been passed 
 down the district that an escaped bushranger 
 named Leeson was wandering about these 
 parts ; and Captain Claypole went every- 
 where with a loaded revolver, and tingled 
 with excitement whenever he espied a 
 stranger approaching the station. 
 
 The description of Leeson was meagre, 
 and an ordinary-sized muscular-looking man 
 would have answered to it very fairly. Thus, 
 any harmless traveller crossing the river to
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 151 
 
 Targinie was liable to be detained according 
 to Captain Claypole's discretion. 
 
 It was quite usual to see him rush into 
 the parlour with his eyes alight and his voice 
 trembling with eagerness as he exclaimed, 
 " By Jove, I've caught Leeson ! I viiist take 
 him ; " and then to learn that the " criminal " 
 proved, upon inquiry, to be a perfectly re- 
 spectable drover, or perhaps a squatter, not 
 personally known to Captain Claypole. Upon 
 one occasion he locked up two men who had 
 roused his suspicions by their anxiety to 
 cross the creeks during a flood, and who 
 were too indignant to give a satisfactory 
 account of themselves. Fortunately the mail 
 man was able to identify them as belonging 
 to the Ubi, and Captain Claypole released 
 his prisoners, making what amends he could 
 for his incivility. 
 
 He was so crestfallen after this episode 
 that for a week or so we heard nothing 
 more about Leeson ; and finding himself 
 suddenly short-handed, he turned his ener- 
 gies to the construction of a slab fence,
 
 152 Sketches of AusU^alian Life. 
 
 v/hich was necessary for the working of the 
 station. 
 
 We used to go down to the paddock, and 
 sit on a log while we watched him split the 
 heavy slabs, and, with the languid assistance 
 of Boney, ram in the posts. This he would do 
 to the air of the anvil chorus or the March 
 from Lohengrin, and would occasionally break 
 off to deliver a dissertation upon modern 
 music. He was beofinning" to o-et rather tired 
 of this hard labour, when, one afternoon, two 
 strangers walked up and asked for work. 
 They said they were good splitters, and that 
 they had a mate behind, who was first-rate 
 at fencing, and a carpenter into the bargain. 
 
 Their looks did not recommend them, and 
 Mrs. Claypole whispered to her husband that 
 here were the bushrangers at last. 
 
 " Too small for Leeson," said he, eyeing 
 them critically ; " but you are right : they 
 look like bad hats. However, I am not 
 game for much more of this, and I'll engage 
 the men, and chance it." 
 
 The next day their mate arrived, Patsy
 
 Sketches of Australia7i Life. 153 
 
 Crabbe by name. He was a powerful, well- 
 built fellow, with a springy step, and a way 
 of meeting one's eyes with a bold blank 
 stare that nothing could discomfit, unless it 
 were Mrs. Claypole's steady Junoesque gaze. 
 He was heard to express great admiration 
 for Mrs. Claypole, and executed admirably 
 some carpentering that she wished done in 
 preparation for a new " married-couple." 
 
 They were badly off for servants just then 
 at Targinie. The new " man and wife " had 
 not come up, and the girl in the kitchen was 
 so little desirable that Captain Claypole was 
 glad to give her three months' wages, and 
 send her off under the escort of a passing 
 couple called Bain who were travelling south- 
 wards, with, as they incautiously announced, 
 a cheque for 80/. in their swag. 
 
 They stayed a day or two to rest their 
 horses. The night before they started, the 
 two fencers and Patsy Crabbe decamped, 
 and there disappeared also Captain Clay- 
 pole's favourite horse and his best pair ot 
 corduroy breeches.
 
 154 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 There was nothing to be done except bear 
 the loss of the pantaloons with resignation. 
 Captain Claypole lamented them far more 
 piteously than he lamented his horse. Patsy 
 Crabbe probably knew the country thoroughly, 
 and would take care to evade pursuit. 
 
 The very morning after the Bains had 
 gone on their way, Mills — stockman from 
 the Macalisters' station, a little higher up 
 the Woorara — came to Targinie in great 
 wrath and perturbation. He had with him 
 Macnab, the policeman, and two black 
 trackers. Mills was what is called in 
 Australia the regular flash sort, a capital 
 rider, full of pluck, but utterly without 
 respect for God or man. He had narrowly 
 escaped transportation, and was ready to 
 help any criminal who came in his way. 
 His one redeeming quality was devotion 
 to his master. He would cheat every one 
 except Angus Macalister ; and for him he 
 would have stolen a horse or committed a 
 murder, if necessary. 
 
 Mills rode up to the verandah where
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 155 
 
 Captain Claypole was smoking, and we, 
 within, heard the colloquy : — 
 
 " Good day, captain. So Patsy Crabbe 
 has stolen a horse of yours ! " 
 
 " Ay, and my best pants too," returned 
 the captain. 
 
 " I've got a piece of news for you, captain. 
 Where was your nous that you didn't twig 
 what sort of fencer you had hired ? You 
 are too innocent, captain, to be a magistrate 
 out here. Your place is among the virtuous 
 swells in England. Why, Patsy Crabbe 
 was an escaped prisoner out of the Queens- 
 land gaol. He passed my hut in his prison 
 togs on his way to Targinie." 
 
 " And you helped him out of them," re- 
 torted Captain Claypole. Mills did not 
 deny the impeachment. "Anyhow, Pm just 
 going to assist him into 'em again ; for he 
 has been and robbed Mr. Macalister, and he 
 might have been sure I wouldn't stand that. 
 So look sharp, captain ; make out a warrant, 
 and let's be after him as quick as Gipsy 
 Girl can go : that is, if Mrs. Claypole will
 
 156 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 let us have her 'oss. She is the best on 
 the river. Good for the Ubi Cup, and I 
 wouldn't mind riding her at Bungroopim 
 Races." 
 
 " Have a glass of grog, Mills ? " 
 "Thank ye, sir, I'm always good for 
 a nobbier. Now look here, Claypole, I'll tell 
 you what Patsy's plan was. Never you 
 mind how I know it. That girl of yours was 
 a deal too thick with him. She was a bad 
 lot, and those Bains were flats to let on about 
 the cheque. He took your horse because 
 he'd heard her breeding — the wonder to me 
 is that he took her instead of Gipsy Girl, 
 which he must have known could beat yours 
 hollow. Well, he was going to ride to 
 Warwick and buy a revolver — he won't do 
 that now, because he has got old Macalister's 
 gun — then he meant to cut straight across 
 to Dugandine Scrub, wait there for the 
 Bains, stick them up, nab the cheque, tie 
 them both up in the scrub, while he cashed 
 the cheque in Ipswich, and then make off 
 with the girl. He meant to ride his own
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 157 
 
 horse till it dropped, and then save him- 
 self on yours." 
 
 It was an extraordinarily daring scheme, 
 involving nearly 200 miles of hard riding 
 across the mountains, and but for Mills 
 would doubtless have been successfully 
 carried out. 
 
 The first evening Patsy came across Mr. 
 Macalister — a queer, harmless, old fellow, with 
 the best heart in the world. Patsy made 
 up to him and they joined camp, the old 
 man dividing his food and blankets. In early 
 morning Patsy rode off, first relieving Mr. 
 Macalister of his gun, his watch, and sundry 
 other possessions, then, to use Mills's expres- 
 sion, cheeking the old man freely, who went 
 home and told the tale. Mills, infuriated at 
 an insult to one of his beloved Macalisters, 
 rode straight to Targinie for a warrant, 
 picking up Macnab and the black boys 
 on the way. Gipsy Girl was saddled, 
 Captain Claypole joined the band, and they 
 all left hot for pursuit. The boys tracked 
 Patsy over the border till his traces were
 
 15S Sketches of Attstralian Life. 
 
 lost in the rocky country at the head of the 
 Ubi. But they came upon them later, and 
 stalked the quarry to his very camping- 
 ground. Patsy had dismounted, and was 
 holding the bridles of his horses. 
 
 Mills rode full tilt to him with his pistol 
 cocked, and held it within two yards of 
 Patsy's face. " It's all over with you," said 
 he. " Give yourself up, or you are a dead 
 man. We've o^ot a warrant." 
 
 "■ What for ? " asked Patsy, with his stolid 
 stare. 
 
 " Oh, you know well enough. How could 
 you go and rob and cheek a poor old man 
 that shared his tucker with you ? And if 
 that isn't Claypole's 'oss whose is it } Why 
 didn't you take Gipsy Girl while you were 
 about it ? " 
 
 " Couldn't steal a lady's horse," said Patsy ; 
 " must draw the line somewhere." Patsy 
 gave up, and they took him down to Ipswich, 
 a business of three days or more. Captain 
 Claypole described the journey. " It was a 
 funny party — the magistrate, the policeman,
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 159 
 
 the witness and the prisoner, all messing 
 together, and as jolly as could be with each 
 other. Patsy told capital stories, and, by 
 George ! what good songs he sang ! — all 
 about bushranging. We used to sit over 
 the camp fire till all hours. When I began 
 to feel sleepy I would look across at Macnab, 
 'Time for bed, Macnab!' and Patsy would 
 hold out his wrists for the handcuffs as a 
 matter of course. Macnab told me that 
 underneath his outer trousers Patsy wore a 
 pair of corduroy breeches, with brass buttons ; 
 so one night I said to him : ' When you are 
 undressed, if you're going to undress, I wish 
 you'd leave out those pants, will you ? ' 
 
 " ' Wh — at ! ' said Patsy, with his open 
 mouth and blank look. 
 
 '"It isn't of much consequence, but they 
 happen to be my best pair, and I'd like to 
 have 'em ag-ain, and o"et 'em washed, that's 
 all.' I suppose my mouth twitched, and 
 gradually I could see the corners of his lips 
 go down, and he burst into a fit of laughing." 
 
 Patsy Crabbe turned out to be Leeson
 
 i6o Sketches of Ausiralian Life. 
 
 and Captain Claypole always took to himself 
 the credit of having captured him. He got 
 five years for robbing Mr. Macalister, and 
 three for the horse. He received his sen- 
 tence very quietly, but afterwards sprang 
 upon the policemen, had two down, and very 
 nearly escaped. He sent a message from 
 the gaol to the effect that when he got free 
 he'd pay out the Macalisters, and he'd track 
 Mills till he could shoot him ; but as for that 
 cove Claypole, he needn't be afraid, for he 
 had behaved like a gentleman.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Mrs. Claypole was quite a heroine in her 
 unpretending way, and bore the domestic 
 trials which are common to Bush Hfe with 
 great fortitude. I used to watch her admir- 
 ingly, as she went through the most menial 
 occupations with a grace and dignity which 
 nothing could disturb. Occasionally, as she 
 stood cooking at her kitchen table before the 
 open window, a stray passer-by would ap- 
 proach and address her in the free and easy 
 fashion which prevails among a certain class 
 of bushmen. It was amusing to observe 
 how he would retire, awed by her grand 
 gaze and calm reply. She was always 
 gracious and gentle, but I can quite under- 
 stand why she was not popular among the 
 Bush ladles. 
 
 She did not, like her husband, take life 
 
 M
 
 1 62 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 from the dramatic point of view. She was 
 nervously strung, yet I have known her face 
 with the greatest serenity the possibihty of 
 serious illness (all her children were born 
 at Targinie without any aid from ex- 
 perienced nurse or doctor), and endure hard- 
 ships that would have appalled many a less 
 delicate woman, not accustomed to the re- 
 finements and luxuries among which she 
 had been brought up. 
 
 Targinie was servantless for some time 
 after the Leeson incident. The drays were 
 detained by floods, and with them the 
 married couple who had been engaged 
 for the house. On the run they were short- 
 handed also, for even the stockmen left, 
 attracted by some new diggings on the 
 Woorara ; and the Blacks moved their camp 
 lower down the river. We were obliged to 
 help ourselves. Captain Claypole milked 
 the cows, salted the beef, fetched wood and 
 water, and kept the station going. Mrs. 
 Claypole managed the cooking, and Jennie 
 and I did the housework ; while a free
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 163 
 
 selector's wife down the Ubi, moved to pity 
 by the postman's account of our forlorn 
 condition, sent over her daughter of fourteen, 
 whom Captain Claypole dubbed "the un- 
 broken filly," to hold the babies, and render 
 such assistance as lay within her capabilities. 
 This child of nature was a great source 
 of amusement to us. She had never been 
 off her father's selection, and in her eyes 
 Targinie was a sort of Buckingham Palace ; 
 if indeed she had ever heard of Bucking- 
 ham Palace, which is improbable. But she 
 had been reared thriftily, and though her 
 clothes were few and rough, she understood 
 the virtue of cleanliness. Our underlinen 
 awakened her wonder and aspiration. She 
 was given to soliloquising when alone at her 
 work, and on several occasions was heard to 
 exclaim, heaving a deep sigh, " My word ! 
 I wish I could lay holt on a set of shimmies." 
 She used to go about in a holland blouse 
 and pinafore and a pair of heavy laced boots, 
 above which there showed five or six inches 
 of red leg. The boots were a great trial to 
 
 M 2
 
 164 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 her at first. She " didn't wear no boots when 
 she was a shepherding the sheep at home," 
 and was sorely indined to rebel against the 
 shackles of conventionality. She was a con- 
 fiding little maid, with an inquiring turn of 
 mind, and loved to get into conversation with 
 her superiors, for whom she had no slavish 
 respect. The mysteries of civilisation filled 
 her with awe, and called forth her constant 
 ejaculation of *' Guld save us ! " but in 
 matters of which she had some experience, 
 such as cleaning up, setting bread, &c., she 
 had strong opinions of her own ; and what 
 " mother and Jane " did on these occasions 
 was undoubtedly the only right thing to do. 
 Her faith in them was fixed. 
 
 I was in the parlour when she first entered 
 it. Poor little unbroken filly ! she did not 
 know how to contain her admiration. '* My 
 word, Miss Rachel! has you got a room like 
 this ? I never seed plates hanging up afore. 
 And look at them naked boys ! What a lot 
 of pictures she has got ! Is that her ? (point- 
 ing to a photograph of Mrs. Claypole). Oh,
 
 Sketches of Aiistralian Lije. 165 
 
 I know ! I never seed her before now, but 
 I hearn Jane tell of her, and how she came 
 up to help nurse her. Was that took in 
 Ipswich ? / never was took ; Jane and 
 Freddy has been took though. They was 
 little things ; and Jane has got her hand 
 on father's shoulder, like this " — putting her 
 hand on mine to illustrate the position. 
 
 It was hard to suppress the unbroken filly. 
 She would wander in promiscuously at any 
 of the open doors, and watch us at our 
 occupations, standing in silence for a minute 
 or two while Mrs. Claypole worked the 
 sewing-machine. Then she would nod her 
 head admiringly and click her tongue against 
 her teeth, and remark, " Well, them machines 
 is handy things, to be sure." Spying a 
 photograph of Mrs. Claypole which the latter 
 had just given me, she launched forth : 
 " Have you got her too ? I seed /icr in 
 the parlour. I'd like to have one of them ; 
 and Guid save us ! what a host of flowers 
 yer've got. The Captain, he promised me 
 some flower-seeds when I was going away.
 
 1 66 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 Don't yer let him forget now, will yer ? " 
 Crossing over to Mrs. Claypole, she went 
 on : " What do yer think ? Ryan never 
 knowed yer. You know Ryan, don't yer ? 
 Him as came over from Macalister's yester- 
 day, and that come into the kitchen when 
 you was there. ' Well,' he says to me, 
 ' who's that ? ' imitating a stage whisper ; 
 'is that Miss Rachel Murray?' 'Miss 
 Rachel ! ' says I (in a voice of withering 
 scorn). ' Don't yer know Mrs. Claypole ? ' 
 * Law ! ' says he, ' is that Mrs. Claypole ? ' 
 And then he towd me to tell yer that Jane 
 says she don't mind if she do come down 
 and try her hand at the cooking when 
 mother wants me back." 
 
 The drays arrived, however, before Jane 
 was called upon to carry out her proposal ; 
 and the unbroken filly returned to the selec- 
 tion with her mental horizon considerably 
 enlarged by her peep at civilisation. 
 
 Soon after this, Jim came to take us home 
 that we might make preparations for the 
 Ubi races, which this year were to be held
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 167 
 
 at Bungroopim. Jim had been for some 
 time assiduously clearing the racecourse, and 
 we were only waiting till the completion of 
 our new kitchen to send out invitations. 
 
 We had chosen April as the most conve- 
 nient month, for it is then neither too hot 
 nor too cold to live out of doors day and 
 night, and thunderstorms are less to be 
 feared. But now in March the weather 
 was unusually sultry and oppressive. Day 
 after day, leaden clouds gathered on the 
 horizon and dispersed at even, always hold- 
 ing in reserve the wrath which we knew 
 must ere long descend with intensified force. 
 As we crossed the range from Targinie, it be- 
 came evident that this very day we must run 
 a race with the tempest that was rising slowly 
 but surely behind the Woorara mountains. 
 
 Scarcely a leaf stirred. Beasts and birds 
 were silent ; but on the stagnant pools there 
 was the life of myriads of insects. 
 
 The sweat dripped from our horses' flanks 
 and their limbs dragged heavily. The 
 mountains looked dead and grey ; the sky
 
 1 68 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 was grey also. Thunder muttered sullenly, 
 and pallid gleams played upon the bank of 
 clouds behind us. We spurred on in a fast 
 trot, up and down the broken ridges, where 
 rocks and fallen trees impeded our progress, 
 and across stony gullies till we reached the 
 more level country that stretched along the 
 banks of the Ubi. It was a wild ride. At 
 four o'clock the storm was close upon us, 
 and there was still an extent of several miles 
 to be covered. We fancied that we could 
 hear the rush of hail in our rear. Then 
 there was a murmuring in the leaves and 
 the grass ; animals called to each other, and 
 there sounded the strange cries of affrighted 
 reptiles. A wind rose keen and fresh — that 
 wind which is the sure precursor of a bad 
 storm. But it came like the breath of life 
 to our nostrils, and after the intense heat 
 and brooding stillness, had a most exhila- 
 rating effect upon our minds and bodies. 
 We galloped in single file along the narrow 
 track, the blackboy in advance with the 
 packhorse struggling after him, and the pint
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 169 
 
 pots strapped to his saddle rattling against 
 each other. A turn in the creek showed us 
 another flying figure ahead — that of a man, 
 well mounted, his white shirt inflated by 
 the wind, and his puggaree streaming 
 straight. He, too, was enjoying this break- 
 neck race, for the look he turned back upon 
 us was full of pleasurable excitement. He 
 tightened rein and we exchanged a few 
 breathless words. 
 
 "Storm close up," said Jim ; "are you for 
 Bungroopim ? " 
 
 "Yes. Ansdell from Tarooma. Price 
 sent me over." 
 
 " All right ! come along. My sister," — 
 and there was an ineffectual attempt at a 
 bow, and a lifting of the hat — " make for 
 the crossing, and avoid the hole to the 
 right." 
 
 Now we flew over a little plain, the dead 
 leaves and twigs caught up and swirling 
 round us, the thunder crashing in volleys, 
 and streaks of forked lightning rending the 
 sky ; while through all sounded the tree frog's
 
 170 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 dismal croak, and the weird peal of the 
 laughing jackass. 
 
 Mr. Ansdell and I were side by side ; w^e 
 glanced at each other and he jerked out an 
 odd remark : 
 
 " Isn't this like the ride in Berlioz' 
 Fatist f* " 
 
 " I wish that I'd ever heard it," I shrieked 
 in return, as we dashed through the sliprails. 
 
 The first hailstones were falling when we 
 gained the head station. We flung our- 
 selves from our horses and rushed across 
 the yard to the new kitchen, which offered 
 the nearest refuge. Only just in time. One 
 stone struck me with such force that my 
 arm was bruised, and others, bigger than a 
 pigeon's ^%%, clattered upon the zinc roof of 
 the "lean to," under which Jim had hurriedly 
 housed the horses. 
 
 The din was terrific, and the ice-balls fell 
 thicker and larger. We had good reason 
 to congratulate ourselves, for had we been 
 still out of doors, it would have been hardly 
 possible to escape serious injury. As it was.
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 171 
 
 we were obliged to run from nook to nook 
 in the empty building, as though we were 
 playing puss in the corner, in order to shel- 
 ter ourselves from the hail and broken glass 
 that came flying in, and to keep clear of 
 the rain which poured through the ceiling 
 in waterspouts. 
 
 We were blinded for an instant by a vivid 
 flash, and simultaneously a tremendous 
 boom shook the earth and rocked the 
 wooden building upon its foundations. In- 
 voluntarily we stretched forth hands and 
 cried in terror, " The lightning has struck 
 the house ! " 
 
 There was a sudden lull in the roar, and 
 the hail ceased. The storm had passed over 
 us, and was rushing swiftly onward. We 
 went into the verandah, and from thence 
 looked out upon a scene of desolation. The 
 house stood uninjured, but a giant eucalyptus 
 which had shaded the water-cask had been 
 struck by a thunderbolt, and was literally 
 torn into shreds — branches, leaves, and 
 splinters strewing the ground for many yards.
 
 172 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 The meat store and carpenters' sheds were 
 stripped of bark ; shrubs and plants lay level 
 with the earth ; between the house and 
 stockyard, five large trees lying in a row, 
 showed the narrow track which the storm 
 had taken, while still further, its course could 
 be traced like the clearing of a telegraph 
 avenue. Lumps of ice lay piled in deep 
 drifts against walls and fences ; we gathered 
 it up into buckets and carried it at once to 
 the larder to cool the beer and butter ; for, 
 of all luxuries, ice is the one most ardently 
 longed for in the Bush. 
 
 Then we walked in sad procession round 
 the premises to see what damage had been 
 done. It was a melancholy inspection. Pet 
 animals had been killed, provisions spoilt, 
 windows broken, shingles loosened, rooms 
 flooded, and bedding soaked. In the garden 
 all was havoc. The ground was carpeted 
 with leaves ; the orange-trees stripped naked, 
 and their fine promise of fruit come to 
 nought. Our sorrow was too deep for 
 words. Jim ran to the yards to satisfy him-
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 173 
 
 self as to the safety of two imported bulls ; 
 Mr. Kerrouel to his own quarters, of which 
 he undertook the responsibility ; and Jennie 
 and I stood ruefully contemplating the wreck, 
 while our stranger-guest watched us in mute 
 sympathy. 
 
 At last he ventured to suo-aest that it was 
 late in the afternoon, and that he had better 
 light fires, mop the floors, and dry the 
 bedding, or we should catch our deaths of 
 cold that niorht, 
 
 o 
 
 We laughed ; for it was a more practical 
 view of the situation than could have been 
 expected from a new chum. Mr. Ansdell 
 declared that he had a true Enorlishman's 
 horror of damp, and that the reckless in- 
 difference of Australian housekeepers in the 
 matter of airing sheets was a source of keen 
 anxiety to him. He went to the woodshed 
 to pick up such dry logs as might be found 
 under the rest, and came back with his arms 
 full of sticks, and a centipede calmly crawling 
 up his shirt-sleeve. He knocked off the 
 reptile very coolly, killed it, and proceeded
 
 174 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 to light the fire ; but before the logs were 
 ablaze, the sun shone forth again, and the 
 mountains glowed beneath his waning rays. 
 We all set to work with a will. Stretchers 
 were dragged out and placed on end in the 
 verandah, blankets hung up, and floors 
 swabbed. In the course of these operations 
 we made friends with Mr. Ansdell, of whom 
 as yet we knew but very little. He told us 
 that he was staying with Mr. Price, of 
 Tarooma ; that he had not been long in 
 Australia ; that he was going to buy a cattle- 
 station ; that it had been proposed he should 
 settle in the Donga district ; and that he 
 had come over to ask my father's advice as 
 to the advisability of purchasing Eurogan, 
 the scene of the Grant murder, that tragedy 
 which still darkened the memory of my 
 childhood. 
 
 I told him the story of the raid against 
 the Blacks ; and by the time our floors were 
 dry he had made himself acquainted with my 
 short biography. Nightfall came, the moon 
 was at her full, and the star which they called
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 175 
 
 mine rose above Roop's Crag. We sat out in 
 the verandah and watched the distant moun- 
 tains, their crests now lightly touched with 
 vapour, and now showing clear against the sky. 
 The night was full of sweetness and tranquil 
 joy. The battered flowers and crushed leaves 
 gave forth a rich perfume, and one datura 
 bell left alone on its shrub, gleamed pale 
 in the moonlight, and its heavy fragrance 
 seemed purified by the storm. Grey old 
 Roop's Crag turned towards us his rocky 
 front, like the face of a tried companion, 
 always unchangable through many chang- 
 ing moods, and rejoicing at our joy. The 
 mountains we have known and loved in 
 childhood become, in after life, friends 
 from whom no changes or misconceptions 
 can sever us. In the thought of them there 
 is no mingling of bitterness. They are 
 associated with the pure enthusiasms of 
 youth, of which the memory lingers with 
 us, like the memory of a mother's kisses ; 
 and in times of deep trouble and desolation 
 our hearts, lonely and aching, turn to the
 
 1 76 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 old, true hills, with a strange sense of 
 anchorage and relief. 
 
 The father was away in town, and Jim 
 pressed Mr. Ansdell to stay till his return. 
 He seemed to have no particular plans, and 
 promised very readily to help us in organis- 
 ing some charades and tableaux with which 
 Jennie and I wished to vary the course of 
 entertainments during the race week. We 
 foresaw difficulties in the matter of scenic 
 arrangements, but our own imaginations 
 being naturally vivid, we hoped that the 
 faculty might be more or less developed in 
 our spectators, and that thus their minds' 
 eyes might behold what we intended to re- 
 present, especially if, as Mr. Ansdell sug- 
 gested, some one were posted at one side of 
 the curtain to announce as occasion required, 
 
 " This is a chamber in the marble palace 
 of a Roman emperor." 
 
 " This is the courtyard of a mediaeval ruin." 
 
 " This is a white sheet, but you will please 
 imagine it a grand mythological landscape," 
 and so forth.
 
 Sketches of Australian Life, 177 
 
 I liked Mr. Ansdell very much, but Jennie 
 did not think him romantic or tragic enough 
 to be really interesting. She had not enjoyed 
 such good opportunities for studying his 
 character, as were afforded me. It generally 
 happened that we rode together, for Jennie 
 preferred the conversation of Mr. Kerrouel 
 or of Jim. Now Jim, though rather colonial 
 in his ways, was very manly and good look- 
 ing. He was ambitious and full of great 
 aspirations. He had grand political views 
 and believed in the future of Australia, He 
 laughed at us for what he called our Anglo- 
 mania, and always declared that it was nobler 
 to help in creating a new civilisation, than 
 to hang on to the skirts of an old one. Jim 
 and Jennie used to discuss this question 
 during our rides, or on the verandah after 
 dinner, while Mr. Ansdell and I talked about 
 Europe, about books, music, poetry, and 
 even about religion and philosophy. Mr. 
 Ansdell often said that I was very enthusi- 
 astic ; but then he would add that enthusiasm 
 was the rarest and most beautiful thing in 
 
 N
 
 178 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 the world, and would bid me try and keep 
 it as my most precious possession ; and so 
 I was never afraid to tell him anything that 
 was in my mind. 
 
 But apart from abstract things, Jennie 
 and I had a little scheme which after a time 
 I confided to Mr. Ansdell. It concerned 
 Robina Daring, who was coming to stay at 
 Bungroopim for the Races. We were very 
 fond of Robina, but something hard in her 
 nature grated upon our sensibilities, and it 
 was a favourite theory with us, that could 
 she only love some one with her whole heart, 
 she would become gentle and womanly, 
 instead of being strongminded and unsym- 
 pathetic. We knew, however, that she 
 disdained the squatters on the Woorara and 
 the Ubi, though she did not mind breaking 
 their hearts, and that she also was infected 
 with the Anglomania, and would never 
 marry any one but a travelled and cultivated 
 Englishman. 
 
 We had only twice seen Mr. Price, the 
 new owner of Tarooma, but we had already
 
 Sketches of Attstralian Life. 179 
 
 made up our minds that he, of all persons, 
 was calculated to captivate Robina Daring. 
 He was clever, handsome, refined. He 
 had seen a great deal of the world, and was 
 moreover a splendid rider, an accomplish- 
 ment which would count for a great deal 
 with Robina. His manner gave the impres- 
 sion that in his heart he barely tolerated 
 Australia and the Australians, but was too 
 well-bred to show his contempt for them 
 openly. We did not quite like this attitude ; 
 however, as he seemed justified in considering 
 himself superior to his surroundings, we did 
 not take umbrage at it, but trusted that 
 Robina would effect a change in his way 
 of thinking. 
 
 Mr. Ansdell shook his head when we told 
 him of our plan. " It won't do," he said, 
 " Price has had a great emotion. He is 
 in the stage of reaction and makes a merit 
 of being indifferent to young ladies. There 
 must be a rival in the field to spur his jaded 
 interest. You had better give that part 
 to me." 
 
 N 2
 
 i8o Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 Thus it was agreed. Robina, escorted by- 
 Combo, king of the Woorara, arrived a Httle 
 before the other people we had asked, and 
 Mr. Ansdell proceeded at once to make 
 himself agreeable to her. With the exception 
 of a week's visit to Tarooma he had been 
 with us all this time, therefore we were now 
 on very intimate terms. His attentions to 
 Robina became a joke between us. Some- 
 times he would ask us in an aside whether 
 he were playing his part properly. And 
 Jennie would retort, " So perfectly, that we 
 think it has ceased to be a part." But I 
 don't think that Jennie ever quite understood 
 Mr. Ansdell. 
 
 Robina, excited by the prospect of the 
 Races, was looking particularly well. She 
 was tall, moved gracefully, and always 
 seemed at her ease. She had cold, clear, 
 grey eyes, with pencilled brows and long 
 dark lashes, and her smile was the sweetest 
 I have ever seen. After having said some- 
 thing startling or flippant, she would look 
 up and smile, and thus disarm criticism.
 
 Sketches of Attstraliaii Life. 181 
 
 Her moods were very fitful. At one time 
 she was feverishly gay ; at another, almost 
 sad. Her manner had gained her the repu- 
 tation of being very clever ; but as a matter 
 of fact she never said anything noticeably 
 original. It was just her way of putting 
 things. 
 
 Out on the verandah in the evening, when 
 in the humour, she would sometimes keep 
 us all amused for hours, though it would 
 have been difficult to say at what. Upon 
 those occasions I have observed Mr. Ker- 
 rouel, always very quiet in general company, 
 sit and watch her with a bewildered ex- 
 pression upon his dreamy face ; and I have 
 heard him ask afterwards, "Is it true that 
 Miss Darinof is considered to have talent ? 
 It seems to me that she talks more nonsense 
 than any young lady I have ever met." 
 
 I saw that Mr. Ansdell was interested in 
 her, and she also attracted Lord Barty — who 
 drove over in a high American buggy with 
 four horses and brand new harness. He 
 brought with him a tennis set — lawn-tennis
 
 1 82 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 was at that time practically unknown in the 
 colony ; it was only played at Government 
 House and to us was mysteriously connected 
 with the English aristocracy. He brought also 
 a cask of Allsopp's ale, and two cases of cham- 
 pagne in which to drink to the winner of the 
 Ubi cup. This extravagance indicated that 
 Lord Barty had recently received a remittance 
 from E norland. He told us with delierht 
 
 o o 
 
 that "The Gully" was now a freehold, that 
 he was going to make his fortune by breed- 
 ing Angora goats and prize dogs, that he 
 had a grand-piano and an icemaking machine 
 on the way out, and that he intended to 
 dam the creek, lay on water to the garden, 
 and build a tiled bath-room. He took our 
 breath away ; but Lord Barty was always 
 announcing Utopian schemes which never 
 came to anything, and we felt sure that be- 
 fore long he would be reduced to driving one 
 horse, to drinking tea, and to lecturing upon 
 the philosophy of economy and abstinence. 
 
 Those who were to take part in the 
 theatricals, or help in the preparations, came
 
 Sketches of Atistrahan Life. 183 
 
 straggling up through the sliprails by twos 
 and threes the day but one before that 
 appointed for the general rush of visitors. 
 The Claypoles rode over in company with Sam 
 Bantling and his sister from the Woorara. 
 Sam was a large, red-faced, red-headed, 
 corpulent youth, with a fine but quite un- 
 cultivated tenor voice, and a deeply-rooted 
 conviction that he had all the powers of a 
 traofedian. Some of Sam Bantling's Shake- 
 spearian impersonations were decidedly 
 original, if as a whole, his repertoire lacked 
 variety. Hamlet or Falstaff, King Lear or 
 Benedick, Touchstone or Othello, all were 
 fiercely, monotonously tragic. Sam was 
 always- tragic, whether riding or walking, 
 singing or dancing, cracking a stockwhip, 
 tracking up a heifer, or blowing a bush-fire 
 with his hat ; but his round flaming face, his 
 fiery hair, uncouth figure, colonial drawl, and 
 eccentricities of pronunciation — for he had 
 a soul above rules — were so excessively 
 comic in contrast, that Sam Bantling's 
 Hamlet was one of the features of the
 
 184 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 district, and he was much sought after in 
 consequence. 
 
 Maria Banthng was phlegmatic, stohd, 
 and utterly unimaginative. But Maria had 
 a face modelled upon the antique type ; fine 
 hair that reached below her waist, and fleshy, 
 firmly-curved lips. Therefore Maria was 
 destined to enact the British druidess in our 
 grand tableau from the Bridal of Triermaiji, 
 and Europa in a mythological representation 
 of the four quarters of the globe. 
 
 Old Macalister — he whom Leeson had 
 relieved of his watch and carbine — followed, 
 with his nephew Angus, in the Claypoles' 
 wake. Poor old Macalister was very shaky ; 
 his nervous system was out of order. This 
 was particularly noticeable when Jim had 
 neglected to put out the grog, and old Mac 
 had to pass an hour or two without a nip. 
 His head would sink upon his breast, and at 
 intervals he would murmur dejectedly, " A'm 
 a puir old body ; A'm not what I wass." But 
 when his system was reinvigorated by a glass 
 of whisky he would brighten up a little, and
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 185 
 
 would tell us pointless anecdotes of the time 
 when "A wass Sergeant-at-Arms in the 
 Legislative Assembly, and the Meenistry 
 and the Speaker put all their dependence 
 on me for presairving the dignity and honour 
 of the colony," and of the various refractory 
 members he had taken into custody. They 
 seemed to have been an unruly set from his 
 account. His stories were interrupted by 
 many guffaws, for he always got wildly 
 excited when reverting to this brilliant period 
 of his career, and his laughter was like the 
 tinkle of a cracked bullock-bell. He also 
 told us with great pride that Angus's sister 
 had lately married a Mr. Campbell, cousin 
 to my friend Duncan, the drover, a free 
 selector who claimed kinship with the Duke 
 of Argyll ; and one evening, when Lord 
 Barty had ventured to dispute with Angus 
 concerning the breeding of a particular bull 
 known on the Woorara, Mr. Macalister 
 interposed with dignity, " I'll no be taking a 
 mean advantage of you, Mr. Lord, but ye'll 
 perhaps concede that there's respect due
 
 1 86 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 to the opeenion of a connection of her 
 Majesty." 
 
 Angus was a shy, raw-boned youth, who 
 knew a great deal about the manners and 
 customs of cattle, but very little about those 
 of ladies. He took up his quarters by the 
 creek, where tents had been erected for the 
 accommodation of our bachelor guests. Here 
 a contingent of Bushmen had already esta- 
 blished themselves. They had come from 
 a distance, for the sake of the racing only, 
 and did not trouble us much with their 
 company. As each was supposed to bring 
 his own blankets, and any other little luxuries 
 he might require, and as there was a capital 
 bathing-hole in the creek, we did not concern 
 ourselves about that department. 
 
 We got a good deal of amusement out of 
 our preparations, which were mostly crowded 
 into the two days before the Races. Tar- 
 paulins had been borrowed from the stations 
 near, and a levy had been made upon the 
 crockery of our neighbours. Part of the 
 garden had been inclosed for a dining-room.
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 187 
 
 and the back verandah was curtained off 
 into a number of small bed-rooms. It is 
 wonderful how many people an Australian 
 house will hold upon an emergency, and 
 also how easy it is to entertain an unlimited 
 •number when deficiencies are turned into 
 a joke, or accounted for by the statement 
 that one of the drays was capsized in a creek 
 on the way up. That dray must indeed 
 have been heavily loaded, if there were any 
 truth in our unblushing assertions as to the 
 delicacies it contained. 
 
 Each person took his or her share of 
 work, Captain Claypole assuming the office 
 of Administrator of the Government, and 
 allotting their various duties to his sub- 
 ordinates. Mrs. Claypole was appointed to 
 the kitchen, and two or three of the most 
 impracticable of the Bushmen were told off 
 to beat eggs and stir custards under her 
 supervision. Angus Macalister, and others 
 of the brigade from the creek, were sent to 
 shoot wild ducks. Patty Leadbitter — a pretty 
 harum-scarum little creature, who sang pert
 
 1 88 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 songs from Pinafore and The Pirates of 
 Penzance, and played practical jokes upon 
 any one who would allow her the chance — 
 was given two blackboys, a gin to scrub, and 
 three of her adorers, and commissioned to 
 decorate the new kitchen and prepare the 
 floor for dancing. Jim took charge of the 
 racing department ; Mr. Kerrouel was set to 
 the manufacture of Chinese lanterns ; and 
 the rest of us were placed under the direction 
 of our stage-manager, Lord Barty, and bidden 
 to make ready for our tableaux, which were 
 to be the feature of the first evening. These, 
 however, presented serious difficulties. Bung- 
 roopim had not been built with a view to 
 theatrical performances. The drawing-room 
 was small, and hopelessly unadaptable to our 
 purposes, with a blank wall at one end and a 
 fireplace at the other. As a matter of fact, 
 there seemed nopossibility of arrangingastage, 
 and never would have been, had not Mr. Ans- 
 dell conceived the brilliant notion of taking 
 out half-a-dozen of the slabs which divided 
 the drawing-room from Jim's bedroom.
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 189 
 
 No sooner suggested than accomplished, 
 though doubts were expressed as to whether 
 the wall-plate might not give way, or the 
 canvas ceiling fall down. However, nothing 
 more alarming took place than the discovery 
 of a whip-snake coiled upon the wooden 
 sleeper, just above the spot where Miss 
 Bantlinof was to stand in a condition of 
 "minstrel ecstasy; "and it was covertly re- 
 gretted that the reptile had not been allowed 
 to remain, in the hope that, by its means, 
 some sort of expression might have been 
 called into Maria's impassive countenance. 
 There is one advantage in Australian houses 
 — they can be pulled to pieces almost as 
 easily as a tower made of children's bricks. 
 The wall-paper and canvas-lining were slit 
 and rolled up ; the aperture was framed with 
 green boughs and a crimson creeper from 
 the scrub, which had a very pretty effect ; 
 a blanket did duty for a drop-scene, and 
 more blankets and boughs formed a sylvan 
 background, which, if not appropriate, was 
 at least picturesque.
 
 iQO Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 We had got through the charade and the 
 grand scene from Hamlet — in which Mr. 
 Macalister insisted upon taking the part of the 
 Ghost — and were rehearsing the Bridal of 
 Triermain tableau, when Sir Roland de 
 Vaux himself, in the person of Mr. Price, 
 walked in. Lord Barty was passionately 
 adjuring Miss Bantling to look ecstatic. 
 She was leaning upon a harp that had 
 been made by our station carpenter ; it was 
 covered with yellow tissue paper and had 
 twine strings. Robina, Jennie, and I were 
 kneeling to an imaginary De Vaux, prof- 
 ering " sceptre, robe, and crown, liegedom 
 and sei^neurie." The real Sir Roland 
 motioning us to remain in position stepped 
 forward and placed himself in attitude. He 
 looked very handsome, although a little con- 
 ceited. His eyes were dark and fiery, and 
 he had that nameless air of ease and dis- 
 tinction which, in Australia at least, seems 
 the attribute of a certain type of English- 
 man. We had half started from our knees, 
 and our obedience to his mute gesture,
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 191 
 
 notwithstanding the comicaHty of the recep- 
 tion, showed that the man had considerable 
 power of influencing people. 
 
 Sam Bantling read aloud the scene with 
 much gusto, though he pronounced the i 
 long in "Triermain," and " De Vaux " as 
 though it were " walks " with a v. But we 
 asked Mr. Kerrouel, whom Sam respected as 
 a poet and a man of letters, to correct his 
 little mistakes privately. 
 
 "The 'minstrel ecstasy,' Miss Bantling!" 
 cried Lord Barty, in despair ; " you forget 
 that you are an inspired British druidess." 
 
 " How can I feel ecstatic when I'm not 
 ecstatic and never was such a thing in my 
 life ? " rejoined Maria in an injured tone ; 
 "and how can I imagine that I am a druidess 
 when I know that I'm nothing of the kind ?" 
 
 " Throw the head back," directed Lord 
 Barty. " So. — Now ! The eye glowing with 
 fervour and enthusiasm — the Qfaze directed 
 upward — Oh, come ! that is not it, you know." 
 
 " Nae, nae," interrupted old Mac; "that 
 isna eet."
 
 192 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 " Think of something," continued Lord 
 Barty, persuasively; "something fine, Hke 
 being in love, or poetry, or ghosts ; some- 
 thing that'll shake you up and make you 
 squirmy." 
 
 " I'm thinking all I can," said Maria, 
 sweetly, " about snakes." 
 
 There was a general laugh, and we relaxed 
 somewhat. I had noticed a swift and enig- 
 matic glance start from Mr. Price's eyes 
 towards Robina. I now looked at her, and 
 wondered what impression they were making 
 upon each other. Neither of them were 
 smilinof. There was not the Qrhost of mer- 
 riment upon Robina's face. It was very 
 pale, her gaze was fixed and far-away, and 
 her lips were pressed tightly together as 
 though she feared they might tremble. I 
 had never seen Robina look quite like that, 
 and it struck me at once that this was not 
 the first time she and Mr. Price had met, 
 though in speaking of him she had never 
 claimed him as an acquaintance. 
 
 This impression was confirmed when a few
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 193 
 
 moments later, after we had all risen, they 
 shook hands with one another quite natu- 
 rally. 
 
 " I had no idea you knew Mr. Price," 
 exclaimed Jennie. 
 
 " Yes," answered Robina In a hard, cold 
 voice. " We met a Ions: time aoro when I 
 was an unsophisticated barbarian, and Mr. 
 Price full of Matthew Arnold — all sweetness 
 and ligfht. I am a barbarian still, but I am 
 not unsophisticated. I didn't think Mr. 
 Price would remember me. I daresay he 
 has forgotten Matthew Arnold by this time." 
 
 " No, Miss Daring," he replied, I haven't 
 forgotten Matthew Arnold ; I never forget 
 anything. But sweetness and light are a 
 little out of date in England. It has been 
 discovered that the age is complex, and that 
 the faculty to be cultivated is a sense of 
 psychological harmony. We must suit our 
 sentiments and emotions to our surroundings 
 — one set for green fields and babbling 
 brooks, another for the mephitic atmosphere 
 of cities — and so on." 
 
 o
 
 194 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 " Another set for barbarians and gum trees. 
 In fact you keep your emotions ready bottled 
 fit for use, and when you return to the Bush 
 you take up that particular phial labelled, 
 ' The mixture as before.' Now Lord 
 Barty, to business again ! " 
 
 Robina turned abruptly away, giving Mr. 
 Price no time for rejoinder, and avoiding 
 his look, which was full of inquiry and in- 
 terest. He drew aside and watched the 
 next tableau in an absent manner, starting 
 as though he had been awakened from a deep 
 reverie, when called upon to take his part 
 from a scene in T/ie Rape of the Lock, in 
 which Miss Daring was Belinda. 
 
 By seven o'clock that evening, everything 
 was in readiness, and most of our guests — 
 over a hundred in number — had arrived. It 
 was a pretty sight to see them streaming 
 down from the sliprails, the girls showing at 
 their best on horseback, and making their 
 steeds prance and curvet as with tightened 
 rein they cantered across the paddock ; the 
 bushmen in spotless moleskins, and with
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 195 
 
 bridles polished and bits gleaming ; the black 
 boys, picturesque in their bright-coloured 
 shirts, all eyes and teeth which glistened in 
 contrast with their black faces, cutting capers 
 and shouting to the tribe which had assem- 
 bled outside the fence ; and then the long 
 string of racers and packhorses, while every 
 now and then a heavily freighted buggy 
 would dash up, whip cracking and harness 
 jingling. As shadows lengthened, the moun- 
 tains became many-hued, melting from rose 
 to violet. The plain lay bathed in mellow 
 light, and the Indian corn in the cultivation 
 paddock was a sheet of gold. Sunset ethe- 
 realised every feature in the scene — the 
 homely wood-heap, the queer tumbledown 
 sheds, the bark-roofed dairy, and sapling 
 fence covered with pumpkin vines and 
 prickly pears. Bungroopim had never looked 
 more attractive ; the garden spick and span 
 as Peter the Kanaka could make it ; the 
 bougainvillea and bignonia flaunting their 
 brilliant blossoms, and the waxen stephanotis 
 in bloom twining the verandah posts. 
 
 o 2
 
 196 SketcJies of Australian Life. 
 
 We, the house party, all collected In the 
 verandah of the new kitchen, where Patty 
 Leadbitter dispensed tea to the ladies as 
 they arrived, and the contingent under her 
 orders still twined native creepers and 
 rubbed the floor with wax-candles. Roblna 
 and Mr. Ansdell apart were gathering ste- 
 phanotls and talking earnestly, and Mr. Price 
 languidly made himself agreeable to Jennie. 
 The father and Jim stood on the wooden 
 steps and had a cheery greeting for each 
 new comer as he dismounted and flune his 
 bundle of blankets against the railings. The 
 red and blue heap rose higher and higher 
 till there were no more to be added ; and 
 then there was a rush of bachelors down 
 to the camp. Every one turned out his 
 own horse and hung his saddle and 
 bridle on the wooden palings which 
 surrounded the dairy. The blacks ran 
 to and fro carrying packs and jabbering 
 to each other. Some of the gins ranged 
 themselves in a semicircle, and shouted 
 In chorus " Budgery white Mary," as
 
 Sketches of Atistralian Life. 197 
 
 they admiringly contemplated the group 
 of twenty or thirty girls who crowded 
 round my father, while he gallantly 
 snipped off sprays of stephanotis and 
 presented some to each fair guest for her 
 adornment. Then in a spirit of mischief, 
 he turned to St. Helena, the oldest, 
 ugliest, and most enthusiastic of the gins, 
 and demanded which white Mary was the 
 handsomest. 
 
 But a Black will always give a diplomatic 
 reply; and old St. Helena held Mrs. Mala- 
 prop's opinion concerning comparisons, and 
 would not commit herself. She leered 
 ecstatically at Robina, whose tall graceful 
 figure was her most striking point, and 
 liftinor her lean arm made the sound 
 that in a Black is expressive of ad- 
 miration. " Tsch ! Tsch ! budgery long 
 fellow white Mary, he ! budgery ! " Then 
 glancing at Jennie she exclaimed, " Tsch ! 
 Tsch! budgery mel ! " (beautiful eyes), and 
 now towards Maria Bantling, whose hair 
 yet hung a la Druidess. " Tsch ! my word !
 
 198 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 budgery grass ! all corbon budgery. Every- 
 body budgery ! " 
 
 The bell clanged, and St. Helena ran 
 whooping down to the camp, made happy 
 by the present of a fig of tobacco.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The tableaux gave satisfaction, though I 
 beheve several of our Bush neighbours, who 
 had never in their Hves heard of anything 
 of the kind, were sorely puzzled as to the 
 drift of the whole proceeding. Mr. Ansdell 
 repeated privately to me a remark which 
 one Free Selector was heard making to 
 another, to the effect that he had always 
 understood Rachel Murray was short of a 
 sheet of a bark — the Australian equivalent 
 of "a tile loose"- — but he hadn't known 
 before that madness was a catching com- 
 plaint, and for his part he thought we had 
 better be taken to Woogaroo Asylum before 
 it spread any further down the river. 
 
 Sam Bantling delivered his oration as 
 Hamlet in a costume of his own devising, 
 it being composed chiefly of a pair of
 
 200 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 checked knickerbockers borrowed from Cap- 
 tain Claypole, a jockey's jacket, and a Glen- 
 garry cap with a plume of cock's feathers ; 
 while old Mac, wrapped in a sheet and 
 rather tottery about the limbs, presented a 
 remarkable appearance as the Ghost. There 
 was a good deal of amusement over the 
 Bridal of Triermain tableau and Miss Bant- 
 ling's "minstrel ecstasy;" and in the scene 
 from The Rape of the Lock, Robina looked 
 very lovely in her old-fashioned dress, which 
 she wore during the remainder of the even- 
 ing. The charade, however, was rather 
 spiritless. We all seemed to be at cross 
 purposes. Robina appeared to like talking 
 behind the scenes — or rather behind the 
 blankets — to Mr. Ansdell, better than co- 
 quetting on the stage with Mr. Price. She 
 went through her part in a listless, rather 
 scornful fashion, though occasionally there 
 was in her manner a kind of covert satire 
 and bitterness which puzzled me exceedingly, 
 while though her face was set and her voice 
 metallic, her eyes gleamed with a fire that
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 201 
 
 suggested the conflict of hidden passions. 
 Mr. Price, on the contrary, was gentle, a Httle 
 sad and most assiduous to please. I had 
 never seen him to better advantage, for he 
 had quite thrown off his air of superiority. 
 
 Robina was the centre of attraction that 
 evening. Lord Barty, Mr. Ansdell, and Mr. 
 Price were her devoted slaves during the 
 performance, and afterwards she was sur- 
 rounded by admirers with whom she flirted 
 impartially. It was a lovely moonlight night, 
 and the garden and backyard were illuminated 
 with Chinese lanterns ; while up near the 
 stockyard, the Blacks had made a huge bon- 
 fire, and were shouting and dancing round 
 it, their dusky, half-naked forms looking very 
 weird in the fitful gleams shed by the burn- 
 ing logs. The racing-men had appropriated 
 the new kitchen, for there was a good deal 
 to arrange about stakes, entrances, &c., for 
 the next day ; so that our party was rather 
 divided, the more polished of the gentlemen 
 remaining in the drawing-room where there 
 was music and some languid dancing, the
 
 202 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 roughest betaking themselves to the camp 
 or the huts. There the postman, stockmen, 
 and stray loafers had congregated and were 
 having a good time smoking, drinking, telling 
 stories and singing comic songs, of which 
 long-drawn notes floated up occasionally on 
 the breeze from the plain, interspersed with 
 hoarse laughter. 
 
 Late in the evening I saw Mr. Price 
 approach Robina, and wait patiently till 
 she had dismissed her partner. " Will 
 you not give me one turn ? " he asked 
 pleadingly. 
 
 " No," she answered almost with rudeness, 
 " I am tired. I do not mean to dance any 
 more." 
 
 "Will you waltz with me to-morrow even- 
 ing ? It will be like old times, and I should be 
 glad to think they might come back again." 
 
 " Why do you say that ? " 
 
 " Because I don't think we have either of 
 us had much better times since then." 
 Robina laughed in an unpleasant way. " My 
 emotions don't flow in cycles like yours.
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 203 
 
 The ' mixture as before ' wouldn't suit me 
 at all now. Oh, yes, I have had much 
 better times 'since then,' if that means since 
 my giddy head was turned by the wild 
 excitement of a Brisbane season. I 
 have spent a winter or two in Melbourne. 
 I have been very much admired. I am 
 improved — don't you think so ? I know 
 my own value, and that is the first thing 
 a woman ought to learn." 
 
 "What do you think now of the success 
 of your scheme ?" asked Mr. Ansdell a few 
 moments later. 
 
 He had followed me to my particular nook 
 in the verandah, whither I had gone to 
 search for a book of waltzes which had been 
 asked for. Jennie and I had fitted up this 
 corner and held it sacred to our muse. It 
 was closed in and divided from the rest of 
 the verandah by a trellis thickly covered 
 with Chinese jasmine, so dense that it looked 
 like a wall, and was a dangerous trap for 
 the unwary, as sounds could be heard equally 
 from either side.
 
 204 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 " I'm afraid it won't do at all," I answered. 
 " I don't think he interests her." 
 
 " Or perhaps he Jias interested her too 
 much. Price likes to make women feel his 
 power. He ought to be labelled dangerous. 
 That is a contemptible weakness in a man ; 
 yet he is not a bad fellow in his way. He 
 has grand impulses, but no steadiness of 
 purpose or feeling; and he has the peculiarity 
 of only caring very much for a thing which 
 is beyond his reach." 
 
 " Do you know a great deal about Mr. 
 Price ? " I asked. 
 
 " Not a great deal ; but I know that he 
 was once almost in love with Miss Daring." 
 
 '' Were they engaged .'*" 
 
 " Oh, no. Price went off suddenly to 
 England, and the critical question was never 
 asked." 
 
 "And you never said anything when I 
 told you of my match-making plan } " 
 
 " I had no right to bring a lady's feelings 
 under discussion. And I wanted to see how 
 your innocent scheme would prosper."
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 205 
 
 " Well, there is an end of it now." 
 " I am not so sure of that. It's a curious 
 situation. I should like to work it out, 
 granting my supposition to be correct. Let 
 us imagine that some years ago a man of 
 Price's type would have loved a certain 
 woman if only she had been a little more 
 difficult to win. Suppose that having won 
 her affections, he withdrew, and that she, 
 humiliated to the heart's core, becomes hard- 
 ened and disdainful. Thus changed, they 
 meet asfain, and he, followino- the instinct of 
 his nature, falls genuinely in love with her. 
 How will her impulses guide her conduct ? 
 Will she finally repulse him, or will she 
 yield to the old fascination ? You see it 
 is a nice study of human nature. All sorts 
 of complex motives would be brought into 
 play. Everything depends upon the strength 
 and purity of the woman's love. It might 
 have quite died out. It might be smoulder- 
 ing ready to blaze afresh, bright as ever. 
 Can love, real love, be killed in that 
 way, or would it leap up and crush all
 
 2o6 Sketches of Australian Life, 
 
 that was ignoble ? Tell me what you 
 think." 
 
 " I don't know. I'm afraid that I haven't 
 thouo^ht much about such thins^s." 
 
 o o 
 
 " No ? " he said questioningly. " You 
 have lived in your own world — you have 
 had your Bush and your mountains and 
 your enthusiasms about abstract things, and 
 your books and homely character studies, 
 and you haven't wanted exciting romance. 
 But sooner or later, you must be brought 
 face to face with the greatest reality of 
 life." 
 
 " I hope if ever that happens," I answered 
 a little unsteadily, " that I may not be made 
 the victim of any psychological experiments ; 
 but that I may be taught my lesson by a 
 true single-hearted man." 
 
 " I hope so too," he replied gravely; " I 
 hope so with my whole heart." 
 
 Just then, Sam Bantling's rigorous tenor 
 burst forth filling the air. 
 
 " Is it a dream ? then waking would be pain. 
 Oh ! do not wake me. Let me dream again,"
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 207 
 
 sang he after an impassioned style of his 
 own. 
 
 A voice sounded from the other side of 
 the partition. It was that of Robina ; and 
 it had changed : its tone was sweeter than 
 before, but I did not catch the words. 
 
 Then Mr. Price spoke. "Let us go into 
 the garden, anywhere, to escape from that 
 noise. When I hear such singing I am 
 reminded of the Frenchman who, apparently 
 without motive, murdered one of his friends. 
 When asked his reason all he replied was, 
 ■ ' Pourquoi done etait-il musicien ? ' I should 
 like to murder Sam Bantling." 
 
 Robina and I occupied a tiny verandah 
 room. It was not larger than a ship's cabin, 
 and there was barely space to move between 
 the beds. Jennie was to have been my 
 companion ; but Robina had an odd kind 
 of exclusiveness, and declined to share a 
 room with any one but me. Neither of us 
 seemed that night very much inclined for 
 sleep. We chattered for some time about 
 all that had been happening, criticising
 
 2o8 Sketches of Australiaiz Life. 
 
 everybody, as girls do after parties, and 
 discussing dress and such like trivialities. 
 Then Robina became more serious. She 
 inveighed against the conventional shackles 
 by which women were bound, and the senti- 
 mental cant that governed their lives ! 
 They were taught duplicity ! They were 
 taught to rule by wile and artifice ! It was 
 a sin against the traditions of her sex for 
 a woman to have the courao-e of her feelings 
 and opinions ! The whole system was false 
 and degrading ! There was no equality 
 between the sexes ! A wife must be either 
 slave or governor! In the latter case she 
 must despise her husband ! In fact she 
 must either despise or be despised ! For 
 her part Robina preferred the first alter- 
 native. She was seriously considering 
 whether she would go out with her 
 brother to the Never-never country, take 
 up a new run, fight the Blacks and 
 dress up in man's clothes ; or whether 
 she would marry Lord Barty, or some 
 other highborn fool, carry him off to
 
 Sketches of Aiistralian Life. 209 
 
 Eno-]and, and see what was to be eot out 
 of civilisation. 
 
 In the midst of this reckless tirade, Robina 
 stopped and burst out laughing. I asked 
 what amused her. 
 
 " Oh, nothing ; only life is such a jumble 
 of the sublime and the ridiculous. There 
 came into my mind at that moment a scene 
 out of an opera I saw in Melbourne — Aida, 
 I think. The most glorious death-scene 
 you can imagine ; two lovers shut up in a 
 dungeon beneath an Egyptian temple and 
 doomed to perish. She sings in French, 
 ' Cannot your colossal strength remove this 
 stone ? ' He gives a little tap, and then 
 another. ' Non, -iion' he shrieks, in a 
 frenzied manner ; and they both tap as 
 though they were knocking with a croquet 
 mallet. Then they calmly resign themselves, 
 and expire, after a magnificent duet which 
 requires an enormous amount of physical 
 exertion. Life is like that scene in a way. 
 I'm rather mixed, I know, but still I see the 
 application of the metaphor. We tap feebly 
 
 p
 
 2IO Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 at some big moral obstacle that may be 
 nothing more than lath and brown paper, 
 making a tremendous fuss all the time, and 
 in reality never putting forth our strength. 
 Then after a great deal of theatrical rhodo- 
 montade, we give it up as a bad job, and 
 allow ourselves to be overcome by circum- 
 stances, another person's will, anything that 
 happens to get the better of our judgment." 
 
 " Are you afraid of some one or some thing 
 getting the better of you, Robina ? " 
 
 " No," she answered excitedly ; " haven't 
 I always prided myself upon being cool and 
 strongminded, and upon never letting myself 
 be governed by feeling or womanish shrink- 
 ings ? Why, Rachel child, I've done some 
 plucky things, as you know. Don't you 
 remember when I got a cropper down by 
 the Bean-Tree crossing, and dragged myself 
 home with a broken leg ; and you all won- 
 dered. I've never really given in about 
 anything, no matter how hard I was 
 hit." 
 
 " Don't you think, Robina," I ventured to
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 2 1 1 
 
 say, " that there are some things it might be 
 nobler to give in about ? " 
 
 " What sort of things, Rachel ? " 
 
 " If I loved any one, and there had been 
 a sort of battle between us, and I was 
 ashamed to let him know he had conquered 
 me, I'd own to it ; against my judgment and 
 pride, I'd be true to my feeling." 
 
 "No, Rachel," said she, with a strange 
 kind of smile ; "if the man you loved had 
 made you despise him, you wouldn't trust 
 your feeling, you would be guided by your 
 judgment." 
 
 I did not know what to reply ; Robina sat 
 for some time in silence on the foot of the 
 bed, combing out her long hair. At last she 
 said, " I suppose you thought it odd that I 
 didn't tell you I had known Mr. Price four 
 years ago ? I am going to make a clean 
 breast of everything. I think it will be a 
 good thing for me. I've made up my mind ; 
 and it will be like burning the ships, don't 
 you know." 
 
 I went and sat down on the bed beside 
 
 p 2
 
 2 12 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 her. I was full of sympathy, for I felt sure 
 that she was suffering. But my movement 
 seemed to vex her, for she got up abruptly. 
 " Good gracious ! " she exclaimed ; " I'm not 
 going to be sentimental if I can help it. It 
 isn't much of a romance after all." 
 
 She walked rapidly to and fro in the little 
 space, then halted, and leaning her elbows on 
 the dressing-table, while every now and then 
 she gazed abstractedly at her own face in 
 the looking-glass, began her story. She told 
 it in a very jerky, disconnected fashion, with 
 long pauses which impressed her words upon 
 my memory, and I listened and waited, not 
 daring to hurry or interrupt her. It had 
 a great effect upon my imagination, and I 
 write her own words as nearly as I can 
 recollect them. 
 
 "It was when I was first in Brisbane 
 — the year I came out. I went down a 
 raw Bush girl to stay with Agnes Stirling, 
 and go to some Government House balls. 
 You can't think what a new chum I was at 
 it all. I had no more idea of flirting than a
 
 Sketches of Atisti^alian Life. 213 
 
 baby. When people told me I was pretty, 
 I thought they were making fun of me. I 
 was just as fresh and simple as a sprig of 
 mountain wattle — that was what he used to 
 call me. I loved riding, and I loved dancing ; 
 and I believed in everybody. I believed 
 intensely in Mr, Price." 
 
 Robina stopped, and looked steadily at 
 herself in the glass. Her eyes seemed to 
 grow larger with unshed tears, and there 
 was a falter in her voice when she went on — 
 
 " I don't believe, Rachel, there is anything 
 in the world so beautiful or so sweet as a 
 very young girl's love. If I were a man, I 
 couldn't deliberately set myself to win an 
 innocent girl's heart. I should be afraid. 
 I should feel that I was not worthy. It 
 would seem to me that I was letting loose 
 an angel, seeing it soar forth full of faith and 
 hope and trust, all white as snow, knowing 
 that it must return with broken wings and 
 smirched plumage, to reproach me for its 
 lost purity. I couldn't take the responsibility. 
 I wonder any man dare face it, . . ." She
 
 2 14 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 heaved a deep sigh. " Oh, it's very sad ; it's 
 very sad ! One thinks of the saying, ' Offences 
 must needs come, but woe to him by whom 
 the offence cometh.' . . . ." She laughed 
 again. " I needn't envy Captain Claypole his 
 faculty for seeing himself from the dramatic 
 point of view. I can become truly pathetic 
 over the wrongs of that unfortunate Bush 
 girl. She has quite a distinct individuality. 
 I think that I shall write a story about her ; 
 and I'll give it to you, Rachel, for the Bun- 
 groopim Magazine. You know when once 
 poets and novelists are able to turn their 
 own sorrows into copy, it's a sure sign that 
 they have ceased to suffer. 
 
 "Mr. Price was always at the Stirlings. 
 He went with us to our balls, danced with 
 me a great deal and with no one else, rode 
 with us, and devoted himself to us gener- 
 ally. He was quite a noticeable person in 
 Queensland society — English, you know, 
 and a little blasd and sad, as if he had 
 a history — in short, a sort of Sir Lance- 
 lot. There was in his manner a touch of
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 215 
 
 world weariness and cynicism, and a some- 
 thing at once protective and appealing that 
 was just the thing to stir a romantic child's 
 imagination. He used to draw me out, and 
 make me tell him all that I thought, and 
 then gradually he got into a way of talking 
 about himself in a half-melancholy strain 
 which touched me inexpressibly. He was 
 trying an experiment on me and on himself. 
 There's something very curious about his 
 frank egotism. He's a moral vivisectionist. 
 He would cut out a woman's heart, figura- 
 tively speaking, for the sake of giving him- 
 self a fresh interest in life ; and if the study 
 proved less absorbing than he had hoped, 
 he would lay it aside, and tell her of his 
 disappointment, and explain his motives with 
 the utmost candour. But he would look 
 surprised if she questioned his right to injure 
 her. He has periodical phases of being 
 unhappy, worn out, and in need of a fresh 
 stimulus. Then, he reinvigorates his emo- 
 tional system by trying an experiment in 
 love-making, just as we might try a patent
 
 2i6 Sketchss of Australian Life. 
 
 medicine. Of course it's doubtful in either 
 case what the effect will be, or how long it 
 will last. 
 
 " I am sure that he did his best to feel an 
 absorbing interest in me, and almost per- 
 suaded himself that he had succeeded. But 
 I can quite see that then, as an experiment, 
 I may have been a little monotonous ; I 
 wasn't sufficiently complex. I took every- 
 thing for granted. I did not analyse my 
 feelings. I hardly knew how much I cared 
 for him, or in what way. You can't analyse 
 love. It grows unconsciously to yourself 
 till it becomes your very being. You seem to 
 live by turns in sunlight and moonlight with 
 a tender invisible presence always beside you, 
 and you don't know what causes the dreamy 
 sense of happiness that comes over you, so 
 that to live is poetry, and to think is music — 
 you don't want to know ; it would break the 
 spell. 
 
 " One eveninof we were alone in the 
 Stirling's verandah — oh, I remember it so 
 well ! I thought of it to-night, when we
 
 Sketches of Australian Life, -217 
 
 were standing under the datura tree, and 
 it was like the echo of a bitter pain. It 
 seemed terrible that so much that was strong 
 and beautiful should have been taken out 
 of one, and nothing left but bitterness. 
 That's the worst of this kind of misery. 
 You can't dwell upon past joy, even when 
 it was the most intense joy, because the 
 recollection of it has been poisoned, and 
 there's only the taste of gall remaining. . . . 
 Well ! the sickly scent brought everything 
 most vividly before me this evening. A 
 datura climbed against that verandah and 
 some red poinsettia-leaves growing near, 
 contrasted strangely with the great white 
 bells. He began to talk of his objectless 
 life, and said in his queer candid way that 
 he knew he had a great many faults, and 
 that instability was one of them. He said 
 that he was an odd mixture of impulsiveness 
 and coolness ; he got carried to a certain 
 point, then something within him always 
 made him stop and dissect his own feelings. 
 He often wished that he could go beyond
 
 2i8 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 that point ; but it was no use wishing, and 
 certainly the power of analysing himself gave 
 zest to a situation. It seemed cold-blooded 
 perhaps, but in reality it was only a question 
 of temperament, and he was fortunate in know- 
 ing his own nature ; at all events he was honest. 
 He was certain that the only straight road 
 through life was to be true to one's own nature 
 — and so on. Then he told me that he intended 
 going to England in the spring, and asked 
 me if I had ever thought much of England, 
 and if I should like to live there ; and 
 without waiting for me to reply, he added 
 that he was very sorry to leave Australia. 
 Do you know the dreary aching that creeps 
 into one at the bare suggestion of some 
 terrible possibility ? It came upon me like 
 a shock that I had rather die than lose him. 
 I think that I cried out. I don't know what 
 I did. And then my one longing was to 
 get away from him and hide my face. But 
 when I moved, he made me look at him, 
 and he put his arms round me — and kissed 
 me — and then I did not care about any
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 219 
 
 thing, or feel afraid any more — I was so 
 happy." 
 
 Robina's voice had faltered once or twice ; 
 and now she broke down altogether, and 
 laid her head upon the high dressing-table ; 
 and a sob, which she tried hard to suppress, 
 shook her all over. Presently she went 
 on : — 
 
 " It was the first time in my life that 
 any one had made love to me in that way. 
 It seemed to me like a leap into another 
 world. I had all the most romantic and 
 innocent notions that a girl can have about 
 the sacredness of a caress, and I've tried to 
 keep them. I've never let any one kiss me 
 
 like that since, and I " Robina stopped 
 
 suddenly ; her tone changed. " Never mind, 
 you understand what I mean ; . . . I don't 
 know what he said to me. I have often 
 tried to recall it, and I cannot. It was all very 
 sweet and dreamy and indefinite ; and in a 
 minute or two Agnes called to me, and there 
 was the sound of an arrival, and my father's 
 voice in the drawing-room. He had come
 
 2 20 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 down unexpectedly. There was something 
 wrong with his eyes, and he was going to 
 see an oculist in Sydney, and wanted to take 
 me with him. He had arranged that we 
 should start by a steamer that was leaving 
 early next morning ; and there was no time 
 to be lost in making preparations. Mr. Price 
 said good-night and went away. I had no 
 opportunity of speaking to him alone, and 
 I felt too dazed to make one. All he said 
 was, ' You will let me know how your father 
 goes on, and if I can be of any use to you 
 here.' I packed up and made ready that 
 nieht. It was uncertain how lono- we 
 were to be away, but I promised Agnes 
 Stirling that if we returned by Brisbane, I 
 would finish my visit to her on the way 
 home. 
 
 " I thought that Mr. Price would be at the 
 wharf to see us off, but he was not there. 
 I felt sure, however, that he would write to 
 me in Sydney. Yet no letter came, nor did 
 he follow me as I had half hoped, for a 
 few weeks later Agnes told me that he
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 221 
 
 had gone away from Brisbane. Oh, what 
 slow agony it is, waiting for a letter that 
 never comes ! Night after night to lie down 
 in hope ; morning after morning to wake 
 and watch with every pulse throbbing — and 
 for nothing ! Yet always trusting, always 
 fighting against the gnawing sense of injury 
 that will creep up close and eat one's heart, 
 I read in a book the other day that to love 
 is to give some one the power of torturing 
 you. It's quite true ; and there's the mockery 
 of the whole thing — that there should be 
 such an affinity between two human beings, 
 and yet that one, who is all the world to you, 
 shoulci be able to hurt you more cruelly than 
 your bitterest enemy ! You get to know the 
 difference between active and slow pain. 
 There are as many phases in mental suffer- 
 ings as in physical. The most terrible time 
 is at first, when you are quite bewildered 
 and don't know what to think, where to 
 turn, or how to deal with this new disease 
 that has taken possession of you. That is 
 how I felt in Sydney. We had to stay there
 
 222 Sketches of Atistralian Life. 
 
 nearly two months, for Papa's eyes did not 
 get well as soon as he hoped. I wrote once 
 to Mr. Price and told him that we were 
 detained, and why, and directed the letter 
 to his address in Brisbane. I never got 
 any answer ; and even still I grow hot 
 when I think of what I wrote. But I 
 couldn't help writing. It was the cry of my 
 heart : it was just wrung from me. 
 
 " At last we were able to leave Sydney. 
 It was late one evening when we steamed 
 into the bay at the mouth of the Bris- 
 bane river. A member of the Queensland 
 Government was on board, and he had 
 been very anxious that we should arrive in 
 time to catch the Torres Straits' boat which 
 was lying outside the bar. He wanted to 
 say good-bye to one of his colleagues who 
 was a passenger in her to Singapore. There 
 was to be a grand semi-political banquet on 
 board the Chang-foo, to which the minister 
 invited us, offering to take us back with him 
 in the Government steam-tug. At dark we 
 were hailed, and we pulled over to the Chang-
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 223 
 
 foo, which looked very inviting with rockets 
 going off on deck, and a cheery assemblage 
 of people — many of whom we knew. The 
 Stirlings were there ; but it was not till we 
 were all seated at table, that I saw, a little 
 lower down on the opposite side, Mr. Price. 
 
 " O Rachel ! that banquet is still a night- 
 mare to me ; the long speeches, the dreary 
 chaffing of the ministers, the slow movements 
 of the Chinese waiters, the interminable 
 number of the dishes — and all the time I 
 was wondering — longing — dreading to meet 
 his eyes, and counting every moment till 
 release should come. 
 
 " Then, as I was going up the companion- 
 ladder, knowing that he was following me, 
 I heard some one at the foot say : ' You 
 will have fine weather for your voyage. Price. 
 How shall you go on from Singapore — by 
 the Messageries or the P and O } ' 
 
 " ' The Messageries, I think,' he answered. 
 ' My people will be on the Riviera this 
 winter, and will probably meet me at Mar- 
 seilles.'
 
 2 24 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 " I manaofed to o-et on to the deck, and hid 
 myself as well as I could near the helm, till 
 the queer feeling of faintness that came over 
 me had passed off a little. The girls who were 
 trooping up from the saloon routed me out 
 of my nook, and plied me with questions 
 about Sydney. It seemed such maddening 
 mockery, but happily it did not last long. 
 The tug was getting up her steam, and the 
 great screw of the mail boat began to re- 
 volve. I knew that in a very short time 
 we should have left the Chang-foo, and she 
 would be on her way to Singapore. It was 
 like waiting for the end of the world-^like 
 watching the life-blood ebb away. Presently 
 he came to me. We looked straiQ;ht into 
 each other's faces, but I could not speak. 
 There were people passing to and fro, and 
 he took my hand and led me high up to 
 the stern, where we were alone, and it was 
 quite dark, except for the lantern at the 
 wheel ; we could hear the water splashing 
 below us. 
 
 " ' I am leaving x'\ustralia,' he said ; ' I
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 225 
 
 have made up my mind that it is best for 
 me to go to England. I don't know whether 
 I shall ever come back ao-ain.' 
 
 " I could not answer him. I felt so giddy 
 and stupid. 
 
 "*I am restless,' he said, *my partners 
 and the people in Australia who have been 
 good enough to be interested in me, ought 
 to feel glad that I am going. I'm an un- 
 satisfactory person to deal with. I know 
 it ; it is my fault or my misfortune, and I 
 own it ; my one merit is candour. I want 
 too much out of life, I am discontented, and 
 I should make anybody I lived with dis- 
 contented too.' 
 
 " At last I said, ' I have come back just in 
 time to bid you good-bye.' 
 
 " ' No,' he answered, ' you have come too 
 late.' 
 
 "And then I cried out, 'Why too late } It 
 is never too late when people can be face to 
 face with each other.' 
 
 " * It is always too late or too soon with 
 me,' he said. ' I wish that it were not so. 
 
 Q
 
 226 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 I wish that I were different. I am either 
 over-impulsive or over-calculating, and I get 
 shipwrecked on one or the other extreme. 
 I know that you are sorry for me, Miss 
 Daring. I've often told you the faults in 
 my character. You have always been full 
 of sympathy and kindness. I shall value 
 the remembrance of your friendship. If 
 you had left Sydney a day later you would 
 have received a letter from me. I got yours, 
 and I am glad to be able to thank you for 
 it ; it was very sweet and good — like your- 
 self. I'm glad to see you once more.' 
 
 " That was all. He had sufficient nice feel- 
 ing to make no allusion to that evening. He 
 spared me the worst humiliation. We shook 
 hands with each other when the time came, 
 and I wished him a pleasant voyage. I 
 think my voice must have sounded strangely; 
 but I kept from breaking down or saying 
 anything frantic. In fact I didn't feel much 
 just then, I was only cold and numb and dazed. 
 
 " There was a great deal of confusion on 
 board ; speeches and cheering, and parting
 
 Sketches of Aicstralian Life. 227 
 
 bumpers of champagne drunk. Then we 
 were put into the tug, and I watched the 
 Chaiig-foo gUde slowly away between the 
 lightships till there was nothing but the faint 
 red trail of her smoke, while we steamed 
 back to Leichardt's Town. 
 
 "It was a queer trip home. Our little 
 steamer throbbing and groaning up the 
 broad river ; white houses and banana- 
 plantations and grey fields of pine-apples 
 stretching along the sides ; here and there 
 a mud-bank with a skeleton-like beacon or 
 white buoy, and the cold starlight making 
 everything look most ghost-like and melan- 
 choly. There was dancing on the deck, 
 and the band played waltzes — the Soldaten 
 Lieder and the Faust. I never hear them 
 without fancying myself back on that river, 
 and feeling the chill. Somebody put a great- 
 coat round me, and the Minister for Works 
 who had asked us to the Chang-foo patted me 
 on the shoulder rather unsteadily, saying, 
 "That's right ! she's a nice little girl and wants 
 keeping warm." People made a great noise. 
 
 Q 2
 
 2 28 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 Several of the gentlemen, particularly the 
 leading senators, had drunk too many toasts, 
 and there was an undignified ministerial 
 chorus, in which the members of the Govern- 
 ment stood in a row, and sang to a hymn 
 tune — • 
 
 ' There is a land of pure delight,' 
 
 I forget the next line — 
 
 ' Where roasted pigs run singing out, 
 " Come eat me if you can." ' 
 
 "There! that's the beginning and middle 
 of my story, Rachel. I promise you that 
 you shall hear the end in good time." 
 " What will the end be, Robina ? " 
 " Ah ! I can't tell you. It will not be that 
 they lived happily ever afterwards. I think 
 that I could make him care for me now if 
 I were to try ; I saw it in his face and 
 manner to-night. He is very impression- 
 able, and I puzzled him a little. I'm not 
 mean enough to try for the sake of revenge, 
 and I couldn't hurt him as he has hurt me; 
 he is not capable of suffering so. And I
 
 Sketches of Ausfraiian Life. 229 
 
 don't want to hurt him. In spite of the 
 hardness and bitterness and badness of it, 
 there's something tender and beautiful in a 
 real feeling of that sort, which will keep 
 welling up. It's like a child that has brought 
 grief and disgrace, but is not to be put away 
 from its mother's heart. I'm sorry for him 
 to-night, because I know that he is sorry — 
 he must be sorry when he thinks of that poor 
 little Bush girl and the letter she wrote. I'd 
 like to make it easier for him, and lift the 
 burden of his regret." 
 
 "O Robina ! " I cried, "if you feel like 
 this, you will forgive him and trust him 
 again." 
 
 Robina smiled in a strange, pathetic way. 
 She moved from the dressing-table, and 
 began thoughtfully to twist up her hair, 
 looking at me all the time ; then she shook 
 her head slowly. 
 
 "The Bush girl might, but she's dead; 
 she died in the little steamer that went back 
 from the Chang-foo that night. \i I had 
 wanted that, I wouldn't have told you my
 
 230 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 story. I've told you — perhaps because I 
 wished to make sure that I didn't want it. 
 Rachel," she added, abruptly, "do you hear 
 the dingoes ? They're wondering what's up 
 with all the quiet Bungroopim hands. And 
 just listen to them at the camp — hard at it 
 still ! Well, we don't want to look like two 
 sheets of stringy bark to-morrow. Good- 
 night ! I shall need all my pluck, for I am 
 going to ride Folorn Hope myself for the 
 Ubi cup." 
 
 She would not talk any more, or let me 
 say another word, and we both lay down, 
 but I am almost sure that Robina cried for 
 some time before she went to sleep ; and I 
 kept awake wondering if other Englishmen 
 were as heartless as Mr. Price.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Jennie awoke me in the morning by 
 thrusting under my nose a most lovely 
 breast-knot of heliotrope and stephanotis, 
 which, she said, Mr. Ansdell had arranged 
 for me. He sent one to Robina also. Both 
 the bouquets were fixed with wires in a 
 manner that is not usual in Australia. 
 Robina said that it savoured of Eng-lish 
 fastidiousness, and was a delicate reminder 
 to us that we fell short of the European 
 standard, and she brought forth her worst 
 Australian slang by way of asserting her 
 independence. 
 
 All the ladies appeared in their habits, 
 and while we were breakfasting in the tent 
 the blackboys caught and saddled our horses, 
 every now and then poking in a woolly head, 
 and inquiring " which fellow, white Mary,'
 
 232 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 owned this or that bit, saddle-cloth, or 
 crupper ? 
 
 There was a perfect Babel within the 
 tent, and the long table was quite full. The 
 British druidess at one end dispensed tea 
 from a monstrous tin tea-pot that might have 
 served at a Gargantuan feast ; while Jennie 
 at the other presided over a coffee-pot of 
 equally large dimensions, which necessitated 
 the attendance of Jim and half-a-dozen 
 strong-armed cavaliers. But, as a rule, the 
 Bushmen kept their gallantry in reserve till 
 the evening ; and just now were hacking 
 busily at cold rounds and gigantic loaves, 
 talking all the time about horses and cattle. 
 They all looked sleek and fresh after a 
 morning swim in the creek. Several had 
 already donned their jockey-suits, and two 
 or three had forgotten their coats altogether, 
 and so kept in the background. 
 
 By half-past ten we were all in our saddles 
 and cantering down the paddock to the race- 
 course. The plain looked very gay with 
 flags floating here and there from the dead
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 233 
 
 gum-trees, and strings of horsemen careering 
 across it in all directions. The river, with 
 the dark line of scrub beyond, bounded it 
 on one side, and at the other some steep 
 little hills rose abruptly, forming a sort of 
 amphitheatre. One knoll jutted out on to 
 the flat, and here, under a spreading apple- 
 gum, seats had been placed and a bowery 
 luncheon-shed erected. 
 
 From the crest of the ridge might be had 
 our show-view of the dear old Crag and the 
 Woorara range. Some of us cantered up 
 there and carved our initials on a monu- 
 mental tree, which recorded in almost illegible 
 hieroglyphics the great events which had 
 taken place in our time at Bungroopim — the 
 big flood, the Bush fire, the father's return 
 for the electorate of Ubi, the visit of his 
 Excellency the Governor to the district, a 
 huge kangaroo battue, the birthday of Jim's 
 prize bull, and many other striking incidents. 
 
 We started an old man kangaroo on the 
 ridge. The dogs gave chase, and Robina 
 Daring heading the field, we galloped down
 
 2 34 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 the incline on the other side and over an 
 iron bark flat, startHng the wallabis and 
 bandicoots, and making them scuttle away 
 to their hollow logs. There was a roll over 
 mid a cloud of dust and twigs. The big 
 grey thing bounded on again, followed more 
 languidly by the yelping hounds, while we, 
 reminded by the starting-bell that the day's 
 sport was beginning, turned back and reached 
 the racecourse in time to see the postman's 
 bay filly fly past the winning post. 
 
 Young Macalister won the next race, and 
 Sam Bantling and Lord Barty came in a 
 dead heat for the third, the latter heavily 
 handicapped as his horse had won the last 
 Ubi cup. Lord Barty was light and lithe, 
 and rode with judgment, so that when not 
 interested in the race himself, he was usually 
 riding for some one else. In spite of 
 Robina's manly declaration that she would 
 be her own jockey, it was Lord Barty who 
 won the cup for her on Forlorn Hope. A 
 curious little scene took place in the saddling 
 paddock when the horses were led out.
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 235 
 
 Robina, ready to mount, was strenuously 
 resisting Lord Barty's pleading and our 
 urgent entreaties that she would let him 
 take her place. Forlorn Hope was a lean 
 long-legged chestnut, a vicious beast and 
 given to bolting ; Robina liked to display 
 her couraoe and, thoug^h he had caused her 
 one or two serious accidents, she clung 
 obstinately to Forlorn Hope. She said his 
 temper suited her own. Upon this occasion 
 Captain Claypole provoked her ire by telling 
 her that the horse was not safe, and that he 
 should be sorry to risk his own neck by 
 riding him for the first time in a Bush steeple- 
 chase. There had been a gfood deal of 
 consultation among the gentlemen on the 
 subject. All were nervous on Robina's 
 account, but all had as yet failed to dissuade 
 her. 
 
 At the last moment Mr. Price stepped up 
 and rapidly spoke a few words to her in a 
 low tone. Robina turned pale and looked 
 at him with a shade of defiance while he 
 continued more insistently. Involuntarily, I
 
 236 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 had moved a few paces back, and could not 
 hear the colloquy. It was short and decisive. 
 Mr. Price was speaking with great earnest- 
 ness ; Robina's face softened, her eyes had 
 a far-off look, and from his shot a gleam of 
 triumph. She turned away and motioned 
 Lord Barty to her side. " Very well ! " I 
 heard her say, " since you appeal to my 
 honour ; but I thought women were privileged 
 to have no honour. That is the prerogative 
 of man." 
 
 " Caught in your own trap. Miss Daring," 
 said Captain Claypole ; "you disdain the 
 privileges of your sex." 
 
 Robina laughed unsteadily. I felt sure 
 that her wakeful night had shaken her 
 nerve. 
 
 " Lord Barty," said she, " you may risk 
 your neck if you choose. I'm obliged to 
 give in, not because I am in a funk, but 
 because Mr. Price has taken advantage of 
 a promise I made him long ago, and I don't 
 think I have ever broken my word." 
 
 Lord Barty mounted delightedly. She
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 237 
 
 gave him a few directions, and then walked 
 back to the knoll, resolutely avoiding Mr. 
 Price. I never heard what her promise had 
 been. She did not again allude to the 
 subject. 
 
 I never liked Lord Barty so much as 
 when he cantered past on Forlorn Hope, 
 his round English face set with such grim 
 determination, that we were sure he had 
 set himself no easy task. " He's a plucky 
 little fellow ! " said Robina to me with her 
 odd lauofh. " I think that I could manaq^e 
 him ; I am not sure that it wouldn't suit me 
 better to marry Lord Barty, than to take 
 up country in the Never-Never Land." 
 
 It happened just as had been expected. 
 At the first hurdle Forlorn Hope bolted 
 straight in among the gum-trees, and I 
 shuddered to think of what might have 
 happened had Robina been on his back. I 
 distrusted the strength of her wrists on that 
 morning, and the timber was thick in the 
 middle of the flat. The Blacks had left tall 
 stumps and loose spiky branches dangerous
 
 238 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 to a lady's habit. But Lord Barty could 
 ride like a Bushman if he could do nothing 
 else in Australian fashion. Perhaps sym- 
 pathy with Robina had inspired him in the 
 management of her horse. At any rate 
 Forlorn Hope found his master, and was 
 put back at the hurdle. He was a splendid 
 jumper, and before the first round, had caught 
 up his competitors. In the second they 
 were distanced, and notwithstanding the 
 mishap at the beginning, Lord Barty won 
 the race easily. Had Mrs. Claypole's mare, 
 Gipsy Girl, been running, the stake might 
 have been better contested ; but at the last 
 moment she was disqualified on account of 
 her age. Lord Barty was, however, very 
 triumphant, and seemed to think he had 
 earned the right to monopolise Robina 
 during the rest of the day. 
 
 The other races were run, but of course, that 
 for the Ubi cup was the event of the pro- 
 gramme, and was recorded in the annals of 
 the district, alas ! with a commentary of more 
 melancholy import than we then dreamed.
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 239 
 
 The Bnngroopim purse, the consolation 
 stakes, and the blackboy's race, were less 
 exciting, but we lingered till the end — loiter- 
 ing under the shadow of the ridge, or riding 
 slowly along through the long-bladed grass 
 by the side of the creek, while low clown on 
 the banks the mulgam and the maidenhair 
 grew thick, and the yellow flowers of a cactus- 
 like plant gave forth their aromatic perfume. 
 
 Lord Barty's champagne flowed freely in 
 the tent that evening. The health of every 
 winner was drunk, and finally the Ubi cup 
 was filled and handed round after the fashion 
 of the loving cup at a Mansion House din- 
 ner, and everybody looked towards Robina 
 Daring, and wished long life and many 
 successes on the turf to Forlorn Hope. 
 
 After that we all adjourned to the new 
 kitchen whither the piano had been carried, 
 and the professional tuner of the district, who 
 had a knack of turning up promiscuously at 
 race-meetings, broke forth into a strain so 
 seductive, that the most savage of the 
 Bushmen was wooed thereby.
 
 240 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 The approach of Sam BantHns;-, tragically 
 intent upon securing a partner, was the signal 
 for a general pairing off — Lord Barty and 
 Robina, Jennie and Jim, Captain Claypole 
 and the British druidess, and the rest in 
 due order, concluding with Mr. Ansdell and 
 myself. The Bushmen who could not get 
 partners danced with each other ; but after 
 a little while voted this dull work, and as 
 the number of ladies was limited and the 
 suggestion that a few lubras should be got 
 up from the camp energetically vetoed, they 
 drew off into the garden and amused them- 
 selves there. 
 
 Robina danced, smiled, and was more than 
 usually merry. There was a bright flush 
 upon her cheeks, and she seemed deter- 
 mined not to be still for an instant. She 
 was a charming vision in her white dress, 
 with the stephanotis wreathing her head ; 
 but in her eyes there was a look which 
 contradicted the laughter upon her lips. I 
 observed that Mr. Price stood rather moodily 
 apart and watched her. I don't think that
 
 Sketches of Atistralian Life. 241 
 
 he danced with any one till Mrs. Claypole 
 claimed him as her partner in the Swedish 
 country dance, which Captain Claypole was 
 trying to introduce upon the Ubi. We all 
 stood in two rows, ladies on one side, and 
 gentlemen on the other. It was pretty to 
 see the lissome figures of Robina and Jennie 
 threading the couples. These two girls 
 entered with great spirit into the perform- 
 ance. If they had not been so graceful, one 
 would have said that they romped. That 
 certainly did the others, young and old. 
 Only one matron trod the floor with dignity ; 
 and it mioht have been a court minuet when 
 the turn came to Mrs. Claypole and Mr. 
 Macalister. Her stateliness awed the old 
 man into an almost preternatural solemnity. 
 They bowed and curtsied, took each other's 
 hands by the finger-tips, and glided down 
 the boards with magnificent composure, old 
 Mac dressed in the official costume of the 
 sergeant-at-arms, which he still cherished, 
 and donned at any important function ; she 
 in a black satin train and antique lace, and 
 
 R
 
 242 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 with an old-fashioned diamond cross gleaming 
 upon her Juno-like neck. 
 
 But my impressions of that evening are 
 confused and dreamy — two or three scenes 
 and persons standing out vividly in my 
 imagination, the rest all shadowy. I was 
 M^eary in body, and my mind was full of 
 troubled and joyous thoughts curiously 
 blended. The day had been momentous to 
 several of us. It was not only that the 
 curtain had been lifted from that sad little 
 drama of which Robina was the central and 
 pathetic figure ; Jennie and I had in our turn 
 become heroines, and were living our own 
 stories. We had dreamed very sweetly, and 
 had woven many romances, sitting upon our 
 log in mid-stream, with the ti-tree waving its 
 blossoms above our heads, and the parrots and 
 cockatoos tellinsf their love-tales in the p^um- 
 trees round us ; and all the time Jennie's hero 
 — kind, homely Jim — was waiting his oppor- 
 tunity, and mine also was waiting, to gallop 
 across this very river, in our mad race, when 
 the hailstorm pursued us from the Woorara
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 243 
 
 mountains. I had never thought that Jennie, 
 with all her poetic fancies and her aspira- 
 tions, would be satisfied with Jim ; but sisters 
 are not good judges of their brothers' powers 
 of attraction : and I remembered that at first 
 Mr. Ansdell had fallen short of her ideal. 
 So I congratulated her warmly when she 
 told me that she had accepted Jim, but did 
 not just then confide the secret of my own 
 happiness. I knew now that Mr. Ansdell 
 cared for me, and was quite content that my 
 enthusiasm should expend itself upon definite 
 as well as abstract objects ; but it was a little 
 bewildering at first, and not ripe for dis- 
 cussion. That was why the dancers that 
 evening, seemed like the moving, grotesque 
 figures on a magic-lantern slide — all except 
 Robina and one or two others ; and the little 
 scraps of conversation which reached me 
 while the promenaders passed to and fro in 
 the verandahs were unreal as fantastic echoes 
 from dreamland. 
 
 Now, Lord Barty and Robina, he bending 
 earnestly towards her — 
 
 R 2
 
 244 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 " I prefer to wait for my master, or to 
 emancipate myself altogether in the Never- 
 Never country," she was saying. 
 
 " That's a Jane Eyre-ish idea — no, you're 
 not heartless. Robina, I'll prove . . . ." And 
 then the British Druidess announcing stolidly, 
 " Pleuro is very bad our way. I don't believe 
 much in inoculation — do you ? " 
 
 " My word, yes ! " The tone of cheerful 
 conviction was Angus Macalister's. " You 
 wouldn't say that, Miss Bantling, if you 
 had gone through our last muster at Binge- 
 wogarie. Any amount of beasts without 
 tails ; but we didn't lose a hundred head 
 from pleuro." 
 
 And now a stout Hibernian lady from a 
 sheep-station down the river — 
 
 " Forty miles yesterday afternoon, captain! 
 Sure, and we think nothing of it. Nora — 
 that's me sister — led the pack. If I hadn't 
 told her that we must have some dacent 
 clothes she'd have danced in her habit. 
 Sure, and she's never happy but on the back 
 of a horse."
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 245 
 
 " Oh, this won't do — this won't do at all ! " 
 exclaimed Mr. Ansdell. " Let us go across 
 to the other house, and hide ourselves in 
 your corner of the verandah. No one will 
 disturb us there." We went ; but by and by 
 Lord Barty, shouting "Ansdell! Ansdell! 
 where are you ? " pounced upon us. Robina 
 was still upon his arm. Now, she dismissed 
 him. The race-committee was settling up, 
 as the judge, who was also manager of the 
 great meat-preserving establishment, was 
 combining business with pleasure, and had 
 to take delivery of a mob of cattle upon the 
 morrow. They wanted Mr. Ansdell imme- 
 diately to decide a mooted question con- 
 cerning the age of one of his horses which 
 had been a winner that day. The two 
 gentlemen left us. Robina sank wearily into 
 a squatter's chair. Her eyes followed Lord 
 Barty's stripling figure as it disappeared 
 under the covered passage which led to the 
 kitchen, and which was decorated with Mr. 
 Kerrouel's paper lanterns. " I like him," 
 said she. " Now, I wonder how I should
 
 246 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 pass muster in England ! He's a good little 
 boy. He deserves — to be married or left 
 alone ? " 
 
 " Left alone," I replied emphatically. 
 
 " Oh no, Rachel ! " answered she. " I 
 can't leave any one alone. It isn't my nature 
 to. Oh, how tired I am ! I am just kept up 
 by the excitement of scenes. I am bent upon 
 beinof melodramatic to-ni^ht." 
 
 " Then here's your opportunity," said I, 
 grimly. " Look ! " 
 
 We both watched Mr. Price emerge from 
 the lantern-lit passage and make straight for 
 our retreat. He must have watched Robina 
 go in, and probably imagined that she was 
 there alone. There was no light except that 
 thrown by the lanterns outside — not sufficient 
 to enable him to distinguish me, for I was 
 dressed in black. Robina's white gown 
 stood out grey against the dark background. 
 Except where an archway gave entrance to 
 the arbour, it was closed in on three sides 
 by a thickly-covered trellis ; the slab wall 
 of the house formed the other side. It had
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 247 
 
 once been a shillion-room, and was ir- 
 regular In shape, a great wooden chimney 
 abutting into it. Beside the chimney was 
 a recess screened still more effectually by 
 a high stand of calladiums. As Mr. Price's 
 step sounded on the gravel, Robina seized 
 me by the hand and forced me back into 
 the angle, 
 
 " Stay here," she said ; " you shall hear 
 what he has to say." 
 
 I expostulated : " No, no, Robina, it would 
 not be honourable." 
 
 " Nonsense ! Don't you understand that 
 I look upon you as a safeguard ? I can't 
 make a fool of myself if I know that you are 
 there listening to every word I am saying. 
 Hush ! Now stir or speak at your peril ! " 
 
 She moved forward, leaving me planted 
 against the wall. I could see the outline 
 of her head and shoulders as she placed 
 herself upon a bench near the opening. 
 Mr. Price entered and seated himself also, 
 with a deliberate air, as though he had a 
 definite purpose.
 
 24S Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 " I saw that Lord Barty had left you. 
 May I stay here for a little while ? I have 
 got something to say to you." 
 
 ' Say on," answered she, laconically. 
 
 " Robina, why are you so hard to me ? " 
 
 "She seemed thrown off her guard. "/ 
 hard ! '* she repeated, with the tremor in her 
 tone ; " / hard to you ! " 
 
 "Yes, you are hard to me. You won't 
 give me credit for any sincerity. You say 
 biting things to me. You will not allow me 
 an opportunity of showing you that I am not 
 so despicable as you suppose — that I am ca- 
 pable of genuine feeling. Tell me honestly. 
 Are you going to accept Lord Barty ? " ' 
 
 " Perhaps. I have not made up my mind. 
 Don't you think it would be a good thing 
 for me } You used to say that I ought to 
 marry an Englishman." 
 
 " No," he answered fiercely, stooping to- 
 wards her, " How should I think it a o-ood 
 thing when I want to marry you myself ? " 
 
 "Ah !" she gave a long sigh. " Is that 
 true ? But you did not wish it four
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 249 
 
 years ago. You could not make up your 
 mind." 
 
 He drew back as thouo-h he winced at her 
 words. " You understood the position," he 
 exclaimed. " I always felt so. You knew 
 even then that my worst self was struggling 
 against my better nature." 
 
 "Ah!" she repeated. "You should not 
 tell me this if you wish me to think the best 
 of you. I might sympathise with yx>u if you 
 were a woman. Such a struggle might be 
 natural in a woman ; it is weakness in a 
 man." 
 
 " And the one thing you can't pardon is 
 weakness. Do you never allow any grace 
 to yourself ? " 
 
 " Certainly, I have needed it," she replied 
 gravely. 
 
 "Well," he said, after a little pause, " you 
 observe that I still make the most of my one 
 redeeming virtue — candour. Will you in 
 your turn be frank ? Will you admit that 
 you loved me then ? " 
 
 Robina did not answer at once. At length
 
 250 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 she said, " Yes, I will admit that I loved you 
 then." 
 
 " And now ?" She was silent. 
 
 He got up and stood before her ; he spoke 
 very earnestly — 
 
 " I am not going to be weak, since you 
 despise weakness. It would be weak to try 
 and explain or excuse my indecision — my 
 unmanliness — my utter folly. You are great 
 enough to forgive all that has to be forgiven 
 — if you care for me still, and I hope that 
 I am not such a poor creature as to be un- 
 worthy of your trust — if you will trust me. 
 I love you with my whole heart and soul. 
 I found it out I fancy upon that wretched 
 night when the sea was widening between 
 us. I have had four years during which I 
 have tried hard to think differently ; and I 
 haven't succeeded. It's once for all with 
 me now." 
 
 Robina sat still silent. 
 
 " Don't you believe in my sincerity ? " he 
 asked. " Tell me." 
 
 " I think that you are almost always sincere
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 251 
 
 — at the time," she answered slowly; "but 
 your moods vary." 
 
 "Is your doubt of me the only draw- 
 back ?" he said. " If you were certain that 
 my feeling for you is as strong and sustained 
 as I wish you to think it, would you give me 
 a chance then ? " 
 
 " There are a great many drawbacks," she 
 said. " But there is no use in talking about 
 them." 
 
 "Very well." He folded his arms and 
 stood back, looking at her. " There may be 
 a hundred. It does not matter as long as you 
 love me. I can wait, I am not afraid. You 
 will believe in me in time. I shall wait till 
 you are married — to Lord Barty, or some one 
 else ; and then, I shall give you up. Not 
 before." 
 
 Robina rose. I could see her head bent, 
 and her eyes drooped as if she dared not let 
 her gaze meet his, when, in the half light, 
 the gleam of love must shine forth and be- 
 tray her. She seemed struggling within 
 herself ; and uncertain what to say, or how
 
 252 Sketches of Atistralian Life. 
 
 to act. I thought for a minute that she was 
 going to yield. I wished fervently that she 
 could be rid of the embarrassinor consciousness 
 which I knew that my presence must cause. 
 I felt that had there been no listening ear, 
 her heart might have spoken. 
 
 She began a sentence wildly, " Why did 
 
 you ?" then stopped. " I can't, I can't," 
 
 she said feebly. " I am sorry that you should 
 be unhappy, but there's no use in digging 
 up what is dead. It was too late when the 
 Chang-foo steamed out of the Bay. It was 
 all over. You had carried your experiment 
 too far. My love was killed that night." 
 
 "Robina," he said passionately, "it would 
 come to life again if you would let it. Don't 
 trample it down. That's all I ask. Don't 
 go and engage yourself rashly to Lord Barty. 
 Don't thrust me from you. Don't harden 
 yourself against me. You're not a woman 
 to change. True love doesn't change or 
 wither up. I would stake everything that 
 there's a root alive in your heart still." 
 
 Robina moved back a little as though she
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 253 
 
 were bracing herself together, and spoke 
 more determinedly. " You are wrong. Do 
 you imagine that I'd ever have owned I 
 loved you once, if I could feel for you in 
 that way now ? It's all too late. It was too 
 late when we parted on board the Chang-foor 
 
 " Oh, no ! " he interrupted, smiling. " That 
 was too soon." 
 
 " For you perhaps — not for me. At any 
 rate, it is ended. Don't let us talk of it any 
 more. We have just got to take things as 
 they are now, and not to hark back upon 
 what misfht have been. I'm changed in 
 every way from the girl you knew then. 
 I should not be happy as your wife. I 
 don't know whether I shall marry Lord 
 Barty or not— most probably not ; but if I 
 were to do so, I think he would suit me 
 better than you. I should know at least 
 what I was undertaking, and how to get my 
 own way. He would not be always wanting 
 to adjust himself to his background ; whereas 
 unless I were to chain you to one place, I 
 could never be sure of you."
 
 2 54 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 "Try me," he said, with most beseeching 
 tenderness. " Give me a chance of proving 
 to you that my love is worth having." 
 
 Robina laughed very sadly, and quoted — 
 
 " For Stephanie sprained last night her wrist, 
 Ankle or something. ' Pooh,' cry you ? 
 At any rate she danced all say 
 Vilely ; her vogue has had its day." 
 
 " The Qfods have willed it otherwise. Good- 
 bye. I am going to finish my dances now." 
 She paused in the doorway and looked back. 
 " Good - bye," she repeated. " Don't be 
 sorry." There was a world of yearning in 
 her voice. A little more, I fancied, and the 
 barriers might be broken down. But she 
 steeled herself again. "It seems my turn 
 now to hurt you," she said. " But you hurt 
 me a great deal more that night. And just 
 to think that this should happen between you 
 and me — now ! How strange it is ! What 
 a mockery ! It is utterly sad. The saddest 
 and strangest part of the whole thing is feel- 
 ing that all that pain was suffered to no end 
 — but this — What was the good of it ? " 
 " You would know the good," he said
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 255 
 
 brokenly, after a pause, "if you would let 
 
 me try and atone for that pain." 
 
 But she did not hear these words. She 
 
 was gone. He gave a queer kind of groan, 
 
 and sat down in the seat from which she had 
 
 risen a few minutes before. He leaned back, 
 
 his handsome profile turned upwards. I 
 
 wondered how long he would stay there, and 
 
 trembled lest he should discover that I was 
 
 so near him. My heart ached for him, 
 
 though at the same time I despised him for 
 
 his selfishness and vacillation. I had an 
 
 almost uncontrollable impulse to rush out 
 
 and tell him that Robina loved him. I never 
 
 quite knew afterwards whether I was glad 
 
 or sorry that I had not done so. Presently 
 
 there were steps upon the gravel ; and I 
 
 shuddered in agony lest they should be those 
 
 of Mr. Ansdell in pursuit of me. Mr. Price 
 
 got up. I heard him repeat softly to himself 
 
 a line or two of the poem Robina had quoted : 
 
 " Schumann's our music-maker now ; 
 Has his march-movement, youth, and mouth, 
 Ingres's the modern man that paints. 
 .... Heine for songs ; for kisses, how ? "
 
 256 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 It was evidently a favourite with both of 
 them. Then, to my intense reHef, he left 
 the arbour ; and I was able to make my 
 escape. Robina did not return to the new 
 kitchen. I saw her no more that evening 
 till the dance was over and I had gone to 
 our little room. She was in bed with her 
 face to the wall, so that I could not tell 
 whether or not she were asleep. In the 
 morning when I awoke late, she was already 
 dressed in her riding habit, and sitting at 
 the foot of her bed. Her elbows rested 
 upon her knees, her palms supported her 
 chin, and her eyes were wide open, forlorn 
 and brooding, while her finery lay strewn 
 on the floor, half in, and half out, of the 
 gaping saddle-bags. 
 
 She laughed at the bewildered look with 
 which I confronted her. 
 
 " Marius amono' the ruins of CarthaQfe, 
 Rachel ! Here have I been sitting for the 
 last half hour surrounded by my tattered 
 illusions, and thinking what a fool I have 
 been to waste my substance upon a shadow."
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 257 
 
 " What does it mean, Robina ? You are 
 not packing up to go away ? " 
 
 " Yes, I am, Rachel. There's no safety 
 for me except in flight, and I'm off this 
 morning with the Claypoles and the Mac- 
 aHsters, and the rest of the Woorara mob. 
 Don't look so flabbergasted. I'm certain that 
 you don't want me at present ; and I'll ride 
 over again in a week or two and carry my 
 congratulations with me. You'd better not 
 have them now ; they'll bring you bad luck." 
 
 I remonstrated, and entreated, but without 
 avail. Robina only shook her head and 
 smiled in her tragi-comic way. 
 
 "It's no use, Rachel. Twenty bullocks 
 yoked together wouldn't keep me a day 
 longer on the Ubi. The fact is, that thouo^h 
 as a rule I'm not particularly superstitious, 
 I believe in presentiments. A queer uncanny 
 feeling has come over me that something 
 tremendous is going to happen to me. I'm 
 excited and frightened and creepy, all at 
 the same time. Well, I can't imagine any- 
 thinof more dreadful than another scene like 
 
 s
 
 258 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 that I went through last night, so I'm going 
 to ' up waddy and yan,' as the Blacks say. 
 Combo has had his orders to fetch up the 
 horses, and his Majesty will escort me safe 
 on from Targinie." 
 
 Robina set vigorously to work over her 
 saddle-bags, cramming in last, with vicious 
 energy, the ball dress she had worn the 
 evening before. By breakfast-time she had 
 finished her packing and had informed the 
 Father and Jim of her determination. Both 
 were disappointed, for Robina was a favourite 
 at Bungroopim ; but, as Jim phrased it, 
 " you might as well attempt to head a 
 Targinie bull when he was making straight 
 for a brigalow scrub, as try to turn the mind 
 of Robina Daring." 
 
 Our party had already begun to disperse, 
 the meat-preserver and one or two more 
 having departed at daybreak. The Woorara 
 set were equipped for a start, and several 
 of ■•'.the gentlemen appeared booted and 
 spurred, Mr. Price among them. 
 
 He came in late, and listened to the
 
 Sketches of Atistralian Life. 259 
 
 reproaches which had hailed Robina's an- 
 nouncement without a word. Afterwards, 
 as we were standing in the verandah watch- 
 ing the horses being saddled, he approached 
 her, and said in a low voice : " You are 
 shortening your visit on my account. You 
 don't suppose I'm cad enough to let you 
 do that ? If I had been a little earlier I should 
 have anticipated you. I'm going home this 
 morning." 
 
 Robina was caressing Forlorn Hope over 
 the railings. She gave some instructions 
 to Combo about shortening his curb-chain, 
 before answering Mr. Price. Then she said 
 composedly, " Very well. Our ways lie 
 together as far as the foot of the Crag." 
 
 " You are not going to ride that brute ? " 
 he exclaimed. 
 
 " Most certainly. I came over on him, 
 why shouldn't I ride him back ? " 
 
 " Because I beg you not to expose yourr 
 self to the chance of an accident." 
 
 " That is no reason." 
 
 "It was a reason yesterday," 
 
 s 2
 
 26o Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 "You mistake me," she replied. "I was 
 foolish enough a long time ago to make you 
 a silly promise ; you called upon me to keep 
 it yesterday. I did so, that is all." 
 
 " The horse is not safe," continued Mr. 
 Price. " He would have thrown a worse 
 rider than Lord Barty. He has a vicious 
 temper. He is a bolter." 
 
 "He can't bolt with me up the range," 
 said Robina. "And besides, he is always 
 like a lamb on a journey. It is only when 
 we're after scrubbers or racing, or hunting 
 kangaroo, that we lose our heads a little. 
 We understand each other — don't we, old 
 fellow ? " 
 
 And she kissed the white spot on the 
 chestnut's forehead, and put her fingers in 
 her ears when Lord Barty and Captain Clay- 
 pole seriously recommended her to have 
 the side-saddle removed. Though the latter 
 added aside to Mr. Price, " It's all right. 
 The animal is safe enough when he is not 
 excited. There's a (jreat difference between 
 jogging home on a bad-tempered colt thirty
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 261 
 
 miles across the range, and letting a girl ride 
 him in a race with a set of roughs round the 
 worst and the most dangerous course on the 
 Ubi." 
 
 My father was a little offended at Captain 
 Claypole's abuse of our flat, to clear which 
 had required the labour of so many lazy 
 Blacks, and the free distribution of so much 
 grog and tobacco ; and Lord Barty made 
 a tactful diversion by proposing that we 
 should all have our horses saddled, and 
 should speed the parting guests by ac- 
 companying them three or four miles down 
 the river. It was a happy suggestion. We 
 felt limp after our gaieties. The house was 
 in confusion ; and we were glad of an excuse 
 to be out of doors ; consequently, a large 
 party of us rode forth through the slip-rails. 
 The morning was quite glorious : the sky 
 a deep blue, and a soft, exhilarating breeze 
 sweeping down from the mountains and 
 sighing through the she-oak trees. The 
 parrots and cockatoos were very noisy, and 
 almost drowned with their chatter the sweet
 
 262 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 notes of the magpies and the Hquid call of 
 the bower satin birds. Every bird and 
 insect seemed joyful ; and in the air there 
 was a touch of freshness unlike the languor 
 of spring. Down by the creek the white 
 cedar-trees were laden with berries, the 
 native cherries and chuckie-chuckies had 
 ripened in the scrub, and the parasites on 
 the dead o-um-trees showed bulbous fruits. 
 
 o 
 
 Our way lay through flat country, between 
 the river and brigalow jungle, where the 
 grass had a tinge of brown ; high ant-beds 
 rose amid sparse herbage, and a few gaunt 
 grass trees mingled with the warra-warra 
 or red gum. Every mile was bringing us 
 nearer to Roop's Crag, and to the point where 
 the road branched off towards the Woorara. 
 The blackboy and King Combo rode ahead 
 with their packhorses ; and the rest of us 
 followed in twos, till the Three-mile Camp 
 was reached, and there stretched before us 
 a round plain covered with long-bladed grass 
 and almost untimbered. Here we came 
 abreast of each other, a merry party, to
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 26 
 
 J 
 
 outward appearance at least ; and indeed 
 upon such a morning, it would have been 
 difficult to cherish gloomy forebodings. Even 
 Robina seemed to have partly shaken them 
 off. As we drew up in line at the border 
 of the flat she said to me, in a tone half sad, 
 half bantering : 
 
 " I have almost made up my mind to the 
 Never-never country, Rachel, in preference 
 to Lord Barty. But I shall miss our moun- 
 tains when I get to those big treeless plains. 
 After all there is a great deal of pleasure to 
 be got from beautiful scenery ; and I'm glad 
 that the best part of my life has been spent 
 in a district like this. I am the richer for 
 a great many bright and beautiful days. 
 Taking it altogether, ups and downs, good 
 times and bad, my girlhood has been a very 
 happy one. I won't let myself imagine that 
 the sunshine has been taken out of my youth. 
 There's brightness and joy ahead for me." 
 
 As she spoke, she shook the reins upon 
 her horse's neck, for several of the party had 
 set themselves to canter across the flat, and
 
 264 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 were making erratic curves to avoid the 
 many paddy-melon holes which the blady 
 grass half concealed. Patty Leadbitter, 
 humming an air from The Pirates of 
 Penzance, ploughed forward on a fiery, 
 short - winded cob, and Mrs. Clay pole's 
 Gipsy Girl chafed at her restraining curb. 
 We were all excited by the keen air and 
 the sunshine. We wanted the stimulus of 
 a stretching gallop. There was a smile of 
 almost childlike glee on Robina's face as in 
 several long strides Forlorn Hope distanced 
 his companions. He held his own more and 
 more in advance, now clearing a fallen log 
 or treacherous hole, swerving: neither to 
 right nor to left, and always lancing on, but 
 with such graceful ease that we never ques- 
 tioned whether or not Robina held him in 
 perfect command. 
 
 Though we were cantering fast, the space 
 perceptibly widened between ourselves and 
 that flying figure, which seemed to fly on 
 ever more rapidly, " The brute has bolted 
 again," I heard Lord Barty say ; and he
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 265 
 
 and Mr. Price spurred their horses. As well 
 attempt to head the wind. Not even Gipsy 
 Girl could touch Forlorn Hope in speed. 
 Robina was sitting well back, firmly poised 
 on the saddle, her hands lowered to the 
 pommel. I could not see her face, but I 
 knew that even if her strength failed her, she 
 would not lose her presence of mind. And 
 there was time for the pace to flag. The 
 plain was wide, and the timbered ridge some 
 distance off 
 
 One huge iron-bark gum stood up in the 
 middle of the flat. It was in a line with the 
 horse and rider. The chestnut was speeding 
 madly towards it. Now, the tree was only a 
 yard or two distant. We saw a frantic effort, 
 a wild strain at the bridle ; but we never 
 heard a cry. Then we saw Robina throw 
 the reins loose and fling herself back. An 
 instant of agonised dread — I closed my eyes, 
 and.Robina's beautiful face, with its last smile, 
 seemed to flash before me. But still there 
 was no cry — only a dull horrible sound borne 
 by the wind across the plain.
 
 2 66 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 Lord Barty and Mr. Price were the first 
 to reach the spot. It was they who tried to 
 raise Robina's mangled form. She was 
 breathing yet, but as they moved her she 
 died. Her head and chest had been beaten 
 in ; her thigh was crushed, and the skin 
 had been torn from her poor hands. The 
 ground was wet with her blood. Not many 
 of us looked on Robina then. Those who 
 went near cannot speak of the scene. They 
 turn faint at the recollection of what they 
 saw. Mrs. Claypole, very white but com- 
 posed, as she is in all terrors, rode forward, 
 authoritatively bidding us stay where we 
 were. She and her husband covered over 
 the dead girl. Then they two, with Lord 
 Barty and Mr. Price, kept watch till my 
 father came with the cart, and bore back to 
 Bungroopim all that remained of Robina. 
 
 I cannot bear to dwell upon the details of 
 Robina's sudden death. I like best to think 
 of the smile upon her face as she rode to her 
 doom, and of her last words, "There's bright-
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 267 
 
 ness and joy ahead for me." I like to fancy 
 that life is a dream into which only clouded 
 and imperfect images fall from the divine 
 world of Ideas, which is the one true 
 reality. I like to believe that, with her 
 glorious awakening, Robina has gained 
 knowledge of an eternal affinity between 
 the spirits of men and women, of which the 
 faulty and unsatisfying love of their earthly 
 natures is no more than a distorted reflection.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 RoBiNA Darinc/s mournful fate cast a 
 great gloom over the districts of Ubi and 
 Woorara. No one ever liked to make 
 allusion to the Bungroopim Races, and indeed 
 it was a long time before another meeting 
 took place on the river. We at Bungroopim 
 found it most difficult to shake off the sad 
 impression. For months, none of us could 
 pass over the Three-mile Camp. If possible, 
 we avoided that track by the river, and in 
 riding to Targinie or Tarooma, chose a 
 longer and rougher road on the other side 
 of the scrub. Later on, when the horror 
 had worn off a little, it became the custom 
 with us to walk up to Robina's grave on 
 Sunday afternoons. Sitting there, we would 
 watch the sunset over the mountains ; and 
 at such times our talk would always become
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 269 
 
 sweeter and sadder. We buried her on the 
 fidge-side, a Httle beyond our monumental 
 tree, In a quiet dell embosomed by gentle 
 hills. A mountain wattle grew above her 
 tombstone, and in spring shed its golden 
 blossoms upon the mound. It was I who, 
 remembering her words, had chosen this 
 spot beneath its shade. My father made 
 a little garden within the inclosure, and at 
 every season of the year, there were flowers 
 blooming. In summer, the rich-hued tropi- 
 cal bignonlas and allamandas ; when March 
 returned, an arch of waxen stephanotis ; in 
 winter, violets and snowy camellias ; and 
 with October came feathery deutzia, great- 
 hearted roses, the wild clematis, and white 
 muntein from the scrub. 
 
 Mr. Price rode over in spring, six months 
 after Roblna had been laid there. He walked 
 with me to the graveyard, and gathered a 
 spray of the wattle which was then in bloom. 
 " This Is like her," he said, " strong and 
 sweet. If she had lived, she would have 
 shed much fragrance on the world." He
 
 270 Sketches of Ausiralian Life. 
 
 turned away, and walked on by himself 
 alone. I did not follow him for several 
 minutes. When I rejoined him, he began 
 to talk cheerfully, and did not again allude 
 to Robina. 
 
 That was the last time I saw him. He 
 was on his way south then ; and when he 
 returned to the Ubi, I had married and gone 
 to our northern station. He too married, 
 within a year of Robina's death, a pretty 
 Tasmanian girl, whom he took for a wedding 
 trip to England. 
 
 It had been settled that Jim and Jennie 
 were to live at the Twelve-mile Selection, 
 which my father had taken up on the other 
 side of Roop's Crag. This was to be a 
 fattening station to Bungroopim, and the 
 Land Act required that there should be a 
 homestead upon it. Jim built a pretty 
 cottaofe of cedar with a wide verandah and 
 stone chimneys, in the bend of the creek, 
 which here widened out into a succession 
 of little water-holes, and was fringed with 
 Moreton Bay chestnuts and Geebong trees.
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 271 
 
 The dear old Crag rose close upon the 
 opposite bank. On this side, near the 
 summit, there was a cleft in the precipice, 
 which was broken into the form of a rampart, 
 and a great boulder resembling a turret stood 
 apart, giving a fortress-like appearance to 
 the mountain ; while dense scrub grew up 
 to the bald rocks that formed, as it were, 
 a gigantic staircase. Jennie said she liked 
 this view of the Crag best ; but seen from 
 Wangaroo, as they called the selection, he 
 never seemed to me -the friend I love still 
 to watch in imagination from the Bungroopim 
 verandah. 
 
 Jim's house was finished by the end of the 
 summer ; and when the melancholy anni- 
 versary of the races came round, we all 
 migrated thither, and spent that three days 
 in hemming chintz and muslin, in covering 
 tables and ottomans, and in making the little 
 home cosy ; while Jim put up shelves and 
 manufactured armchairs out of old barrels 
 (try this plan, reader, if you are ever 
 on a poorly-furnished Australian station) ;
 
 272 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 and the Father planted out our favourite 
 shrubs and creepers from the Bungroopim 
 garden. 
 
 During this year Mr. Ansdell's prepara- 
 tions were also in progress. He had bought 
 a station up north — not the scene of the 
 Grant tragedy — had mustered and taken 
 delivery, and added to and improved the 
 house ; and by May my new home was in 
 readiness. There was no reason, therefore, 
 why there should not be a double wedding ; 
 and thus it was arranged. 
 
 The Dean came over and married us, 
 although, properly speaking, he had no 
 business to be officiating out of his own 
 colony. He was making a tour on the 
 Woorara that month, and in kindly recol- 
 lection of our trip together to Thylungera, 
 crossed the border at our urgent request, 
 and performed the ceremony in the drawing- 
 room at Bungroopim. 
 
 Our party was a small one. Beyond our 
 own people, only the Claypoles, Patty Lead- 
 bitter and Maria Bantling our bridesmaids,
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 273 
 
 Sam, the Macalisters, Mr. Kerrouel, and one 
 or two near neighbours. 
 
 Though it was May, early winter with 
 us, the day was Hke one in October, and the 
 westeria had put forth its second bloom. 
 The windows stood wide open ; honey- 
 suckle and jessamine turned round the 
 verandah posts; and great Marechal Niel 
 roses hung down like clots of butter from 
 the back eaves, while the sun, glinting in 
 through the creepers, made a mosaic of 
 shadow and sheen upon the white boards. 
 Our pretty cedar-lined parlour was a bower 
 to-day. Patty Leadbitter, who was famous 
 for her taste in decoration, had placed flowers 
 everywhere. In front of the fireplace stood 
 a pyramid of maidenhair fern, snowy azaleas, 
 camellias, and magnificent Gloire de Dijon 
 roses ; bunches of violets lurked in corners ; 
 the piano was a mass of narcissus and 
 mignonette ; magnolias gave their rich per- 
 fume, and there was a wonderful spray of 
 eight beautiful cloth-of-gold roses on one 
 stem, drooping over the mantelpiece. She had 
 
 T
 
 2 74 Sketches of Australian Life. 
 
 wreathed some of the paintings with 
 ferns and berries and lavender statice 
 from the scrub, and Old Time, of Naraigin 
 memory, looked benignantly down upon us 
 from a frame of camellias and crimson 
 geranium. 
 
 At the upper end of the room stood the 
 Dean in his white surplice, with one eye fixed 
 warningly on Jim and his bride, and the 
 other roving unsteadily in our direction. 
 
 Jim observed afterwards that a squint was 
 convenient upon the occasion of a double 
 wedding, for both the married couples might 
 fairly consider that they had received an 
 equal amount of attention ! But If the Dean 
 looked severe when he pronounced the bless- 
 ing, he made up for it by his smiles and 
 joviality at breakfast, and the number of 
 clerical jokes he launched at the bridegrooms 
 and brides. 
 
 Then, it being a true Bush wedding, we 
 set forth on horseback with the blackboys 
 and packs in front of us, and a further 
 advance guard of King Combo and Boney,
 
 Sketches of Australian Life. 275 
 
 the reconciled rivals, who flourished toma- 
 hawks to " mak'em road budgery." 
 
 Jim and Jennie were bound straight for 
 their new home, and we were going to spend 
 our honeymoon at Tarooma which — Mr. 
 Price being still absent — had been placed at 
 our disposal. The whole party escorted us to 
 where the tracks diverge and the Wangaroo 
 Creek runs into the Ubi, at this point deep- 
 ening into a pool, surrounded by ferns and 
 arums and overshadowed by ti-trees. A 
 little below the junction, is the Flag Stone 
 Crossing, and here we parted company, 
 Jennie and Jim followed the creek towards 
 Wangaroo, and we two riding eastward along 
 the river bank. Our escort watched us 
 over the crossing, remaining in a line on the 
 other side ; the Dean and my father a little 
 in advance ; next, Mrs. Claypole and her 
 husband, and then the pretty girls and 
 stalwart Bush youths. A peal of cheers 
 rang out through the gum trees ; and the 
 cattle, which had been quietly browsing by 
 the water's edge, lifted their heads with a
 
 276 Sketches of Austi'aliau Life. 
 
 startled cry and made a wild rush up a gulley 
 near. Then at last there floated across the 
 Delta in call and reply, two long farewell 
 Coo-ees, which died away in the vast silence 
 of the Bush. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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 OUR MUTUAL FRIEND 40 ,, 2 vols. 16 o 
 
 SKETCHES BY "BOZ" 39 ,, i voL 8 o 
 
 OLIVER TWIST 24 „ i vol. 8 o 
 
 CHRISTMAS BOOKS 17 ,, i vol. 8 o 
 
 A TALE OF TWO CITIES 16 ,, i vol. 8 o 
 
 GREAT EXPECTATIONS 8 ,. i vol. 8 o 
 
 PICTURES FROM ITALY & AMERICAN NOTES 8 „ i vol. 8 o 
 
 UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER 8 ,, i vol. 8 o 
 
 CHILD'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND 8 ,, i vol. 8 o 
 
 EDWIN DROOD and MISCELLANIES 12 ,, i vol. 8 o 
 
 CHRISTMAS STORIES from "Household Words," &c. 14 ,, i vol. 8 o 
 
 THE LIFE OF CHARLES DICKENS. ByJOHN Forster. With Illustrations. 
 Uniform with this Edition, i vol. los. 6d. 
 
 A NEW EDITION OF ABOVE, WITH THE ORIGINAL ILLUSTRA- 
 TIONS, IN CROWN 8vo, 30 VOLS. IN SETS ONLY.
 
 CHAPMAN 6^ HALL, LIMITED. 
 
 23 
 
 DICKENS'S (CHARLES) WORKS. 
 THE "CHARLES DICKENS" EDITION. 
 
 In Crown Svo. In 21 vols., cloth, with Illustrations, £j i6s. 
 
 PICKWICK PAPERS 8 Illustrations 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT ... 
 DOMBEY AND SON 
 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY ... 
 DAVID COPPERFIELD ... 
 
 BLEAK HOUSE 
 
 LITTLE DORRIT 
 
 OUR MUTUAL FRIEND... 
 
 BARNABY RUDGE 
 
 OLD CURIOSITY SHOP ... 
 
 A CHILD'S HISTORY Of ENGLAND 4 
 
 EDWIN DROOD and OTHER STORIES 8 
 
 CHRISTMAS STORIES, from " Household Words " ... 8 
 
 SKETCHES BY " BOZ " 8 
 
 AMERICAN NOTES and REPRINTED PIECES ... 8 
 
 CHRISTMAS BOOKS 8 
 
 OLIVER TWIST 8 
 
 GREAT EXPECTATIONS 8 
 
 TALE OF TWO CITIES 8 
 
 HARD TIMES and PICTURES FROM ITALY ... 8 
 
 UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER 4 
 
 THE LIFE OF CHARLES DICKENS. Numerous Illustrations. 2 vols 
 THE LETTERS OF CHARLES DICKENS 2 vols, 
 
 s. d. 
 4 o 
 4 o 
 4 o 
 4 o 
 4 
 4 o 
 4 o 
 4 o 
 3 
 3 
 3 
 3 
 3 
 3 
 3 
 3 
 3 
 3 
 3 
 3 o 
 3 o 
 
 7 o 
 
 8 o 
 
 THE ILLUSTRATED LIBRARY EDITION. 
 
 Complete in jo Volumes. Demy Svo, los. each ; or set, £iS- 
 
 This Edition is printed on a finer paper and in a larger type than has been 
 employed in any previous edition. The type has been cast especially for it, and 
 the page is of a size to admit of the introduction of all the original illustrations. 
 
 No such attractive issue has been made of the writings of Mr. Dickens, which, 
 various as have been the forms of publication adapted to the demands of an ever 
 widely-increasing popularity, have never yet been worthily presented in a really 
 handsome library form. 
 
 The collection comprises all the minor writings it was Mr. Dickens's wish to 
 preserve. 
 
 SKETCHES BY " BOZ." With 40 Illustrations by George Cruikshank. 
 PICKWICK PAPERS. 2 vols. With 42 Illustrations by Phiz. 
 OLIVER TWIST. With 24 Illustrations by Cruikshank. 
 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY, 2 vols. With 40 Illustrations by Phiz. 
 OLD CURIOSITY SHOP and REPRINTED PIECES. 2 vols. With Illus- 
 trations by Cattermole, &c.
 
 24 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 DICKENS'S (CHARLES) WORKS. 
 
 BARNABY RUDGE and HARD TI\[ES. 2 vols. With Illustrations by 
 
 Cattermole, &c. 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 2 vols. With 40 Illustrations by Phiz. 
 AMERICAN NOTES and PICTURES FROM ITALY, i vol. With 8 
 
 Illustrations. 
 DOMBEY AND SON. 2 vols. With 40 Illustrations by Phiz. 
 DAVID COPPERFIELD. 2 vols. With 40 Illustrations by Phiz. 
 BLEAK HOUSE. 2 vols. With 40 Illustrations by Phiz. 
 LITTLE DORRIT. 2 vols. With 40 Illustrations by Phiz. 
 A TALE OF TWO CITIES. With 16 Illustrations by Phiz. 
 THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER. With 8 Illustrations by Marcus Stone. 
 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. With 8 Illustrations by Marcus Stone. 
 OUR MUTUAL FRIEND. 2 vols. With 40 Illustrations by Marcus Stone. 
 CHRISTMAS BOOKS. With 17 Illustrations by Sir Edwin Landseer, R.A., 
 
 Maclise, R.A., &c. &c. 
 HISTORY OF ENGLAND. With 8 Illustrations by Marcus Stone. 
 CHRISTMAS STORIES. (From "Household Words" and "All the Year 
 
 Round.") With 14 Illustrations. 
 EDWIN DROOD AND OTHER STORIES. With 12 Illustrations by S. L. 
 
 Fildes. 
 
 HOUSEHOLD EDITION. 
 
 Cotnplete in 22 Volumes. Crcnvn Ofto, cloth, £^ ?>s. 6d. 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT, with 59 Illustrations, cloth, 55. 
 DAVID COPPERFIELD, with 60 Illustrations and a Portrait, cloth, 5s. 
 BLEAK HOUSE, with 61 Illustrations, cloth, 5s. 
 LITTLE DORRIT, with 58 Illustrations, cloth, 5s. 
 PICKWICK PAPERS, with 56 Illustrations, cloth, 5s. 
 OUR MUTUAL FRIEND, with 58 Illustrations, cloth, 53. 
 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY, with 59 Illustrations, cloth, 5s. 
 DOMBEY AND SON, with 61 Illustrations, cloth, 5s. 
 
 EDWIN DROOD ; REPRINTED PIECES ; and other Stories, with 30 Illustra- 
 tions, cloth, 5s. 
 THE LIFE OF DICKENS. By John Forster. With 40 Illustrations. Cloth, 53. 
 BARNABY RUDGE, with 46 Illustrations, cloth, 4s. 
 OLD CURIOSITY SHOP, with 32 Illustrations, cloth, 4s. 
 CHRISTMAS STORIES, with 23 Illustrations, cloth, 4s. 
 OLIVER TWIST, with 28 Illustrations, cloth, 3s. 
 GREAT EXPECTATIONS, with 26 Illustrations, cloth, 3s. 
 SKETCHES BY "BOZ," with 36 Illustrations, cloth, 3s. 
 UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER, with 26 Illustrations, cloth, 3s. 
 CHRISTMAS BOOKS, with 28 Illustrations, cloth, 3s.
 
 CHAPMAN &- HALL, LIMITED. 
 
 25 
 
 DICKENS'S (CHARLES) WORKS. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND, with 15 Illustrations, cloth, 3s. 
 AMERICAN NOTES and PICTURES FROM ITALY, with 18 Illustrations 
 
 cloth, 3s. 
 A TALE OF TWO CITIES, with 25 Illustrations, cloth, 3s. 
 HARD TIMES, with 20 Illustrations, cloth, 2S. 6d. 
 
 MR. DICKENS'S READINGS. 
 
 Fcap. Svc, sewed. 
 
 CHRISTMAS CAROL IN PROSE. 
 
 IS. 
 
 CRICKET ON THE HEARTH, is. 
 CHIMES : A GOBLIN STORY, is. 
 
 STORY OF LITTLE DOMBEY. is. 
 POOR TRAVELLER, BOOTS AT 
 
 THE HOLLY-TREE INN, and 
 
 MRS. GAMP. IS. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS CAROL, with the Original Coloured Plates, 
 
 being a reprint of the Original Edition. Small 8vo, red cloth, gilt edges, 5s. 
 
 THE POPULAR LIBRARY EDITION 
 
 OF THE WORKS OF 
 
 CHARLES DICKENS, 
 
 In 30 Vols. , large crown %vo, price £6 ; separate I "ols. 4.S. each. 
 
 An Edition printed on good paper, containing Illustrations selected from 
 the Household Edition, on Plate Paper, Each Volume has about 450 pages 
 and 16 full-page Illustrations. 
 
 SKETCHES BY "BOZ." 
 PICKWICK. 2 vols. 
 OLIVER TWIST. 
 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 2 vols, 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 2 vols. 
 DOMBEY AND SON. 2 vols. 
 DAVID COPPERFIELD. 2 vols. 
 CHRISTMAS BOOKS. 
 OUR MUTUAL FRIEND, 2 vols. 
 CHRISTMAS STORIES. 
 BLEAK HOUSE. 2 vols, 
 LITTLE DORRIT. 2 vols. 
 
 OLD CURIOSITY SHOP and 
 
 REPRINTED PIECES. 2 vols. 
 BARNABY RUDGE. 2 vols. 
 
 UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVEL- 
 LER. 
 
 GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 
 
 TALE OF TWO CITIES, 
 
 CHILD'S HISTORY OF ENG- 
 LAND. 
 
 EDWIN DROOU and MISCEL- 
 LANIES. 
 
 PICTURES FROM ITALY and 
 AMERICAN NOTES.
 
 26 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 DICKENS'S (CHARLES) WORKS. 
 
 The Clieapest afid Hajtdiest Edition of 
 
 THE WORKS OF CHARLES DICKENS. 
 
 The Pocket-Volume Edition of Charles Dickens's Works. 
 In 30 Vols, small f cap. 8z/o, £2 5s. 
 
 JVeza and Cheap Issue of 
 
 THE WORKS OF CHARLES DICKENS. 
 
 In pocket volumes. 
 
 PICKWICK PAPERS, with 8 Illustrations, cloth, 2s. 
 
 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY, with 8 Illustrations, cloth, 2S. 
 
 OLIVER TWIST, with 8 Illustrations, clott, is. 
 
 SKETCHES BY " BOZ," with 8 Illustrations, cloth, is. 
 
 OLD CURIOSITY SHOP, with 8 Illustrations, cloth, 2s. 
 
 BARNABY RUDGE, with 16 Illustrations, cloth, 2s. 
 
 AMERICAN NOTES and PICTURES FROM ITALY, with 8 Illustrations, cloth, is.6d. 
 
 CHRISTMAS BOOKS, with 8 Illustrations, cloth, is. 6d. 
 
 SIXPENNY REPRINTS. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS CAROL and THE 
 HAUNTED MAN. 
 
 By Charles Dickens. Illustrated. 
 (H.) 
 
 READINGS FROM THE WORKS OF 
 CHARLES DICKENS. 
 
 As selected and read by himself and now published for the first time. Illustrated. 
 
 (III.) 
 
 THE CHIMES: A Goblin Story, and THE 
 CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. 
 
 Illustrated. 
 (IV.) 
 
 THE BATTLE OF LIFE ; A Love Story, 
 HUNTED DOWN, and A HOLIDAY 
 ROMANCE. Illustrated.
 
 CHAPMAN fr HALL, LIAHTED. 27 
 
 List of Books, Drawing Examples, Diagrams, Models, 
 Instruments, etc., 
 
 INCLUDING 
 
 THOSE ISSUED UNDER THE AUTHORITY OF THE SCIENCE 
 AND ART DEPARTMENT, SOUTH KENSINGTON, FOR THE 
 USE OF SCHOOLS AND ART AND SCIENCE CLASSES. 
 
 CATALOGUE OF MODERN WORKS ON SCIENCE 
 
 AND TECHNOLOGY. 8vo, sewed, is. 
 BENSON ( W. )— 
 
 PRINCIPLES OF THE SCIENCE OF COLOUR. 
 
 Small 4to, 15s. 
 
 MANUAL OF THE SCIENCE OF COLOUR. Coloured 
 
 Frontispiece and Illustrations. i2mo, 2s. 6d. 
 BRADLEY (THOMAS), 0/ the Hoyal Military Academy, Woolwich— 
 
 ELEMENTS OF GEOMETRICAL DRAWING. In Two 
 
 Parts, with 60 Plates. Oblong folio, half-bound, each part i6s. 
 
 Selections (from the above) of 20 Plates, for the use of the Royal Military 
 Academy, Woolwich. Oblong folio, half-bound, i6s. 
 
 BURCHETT— 
 
 LINEAR PERSPECTIVE. With Illustrations. Post8vo,7s. 
 PRACTICAL GEOMETRY. Post 8vo, 5s. 
 DEFINITIONS OF GEOMETRY. Third Edition. 24mo, 
 
 sewed, sd. 
 CARROLL (JOHN)— 
 
 FREEHAND DRAWING LESSONS FOR THE BLACK 
 
 BOARD. 6s. 
 CUBLEY {W. H.)— 
 
 A SYSTEM OF ELEMENTARY DRAWING. With 
 
 Illustrations and Examples. Imperial 410, sewed, 3s. 6d. 
 DA VISON [ELLIS A. )— 
 
 DRAWING FOR ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS. Post 
 
 8vo, 3s. 
 
 MODEL DRAWING. i2mo, 3s. 
 
 DELAMOTTE [P. H.)— 
 
 PROGRESSIVE DRAWING-BOOK FOR BEGINNERS. 
 
 i2mo, 3s. 6d. 
 D YCE— 
 
 DRAWING-BOOK OF THE GOVERNMENT SCHOOL 
 
 OF DESIGN : ELEMENTARY OUTLINES OF ORNAMENT. 50 Plates. 
 Small folio, sewed, 5s. : mounted, i8s. 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO DITTO. Fcap. Svo, 6d.
 
 28 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 FOSTER {VERE)~ 
 
 DRAWING-BOOKS : 
 
 Forty-six Numbers, at 3d. each. 
 
 DRAWING-CARDS : 
 
 Freehand Drawing : First Grade, Sets I., II., III., is. each. 
 Second Grade, Set I., 2S. 
 
 HENSLO IV (PROFESSOR)— 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS TO BE EMPLOYED IN THE 
 
 PR.\CTICAL LESSONS ON BOTANY. Post 8vo, sewed, 6d. 
 JACOBSTHAL (£.)— 
 
 GRAMMATIK DER ORNAMENTE, in 7 Parts of 20 
 
 Plates each. Unmounted, £,-i 13s. 6d. ; mounted on cardboard, £\t. 4s. The 
 Parts can be had separately. 
 
 J E WITT— 
 
 HANDBOOK OF PRACTICAL PERSPECTIVE. i8mo, 
 
 IS. 6d. 
 LINDLE Y [JOHN]— 
 
 SYMMETRY OF VEGETATION: Principles to be 
 
 Observed in the Delineation of Plants. i2mo, sewed, is. 
 MARSHALL— 
 
 HUMAN BODY. Text and Plates reduced from the large 
 
 Diagrams. 2 vols., £z is. 
 NEWTON (E. TULLEY), F.G.S.— 
 
 THE TYPICAL PARTS IN THE SKELETONS OF A 
 
 CAT, DUCK, AND CODFISH, being a Catalogue with Comparative De- 
 scriptions arranged in a Tabular Form. Demy 8vo, 3s. 
 
 OLIVER (PROFESSOR)— 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE VEGETABLE KINGDOM. 
 
 109 Plates. Oblong 8vo. Plain, i6s.; coloured, £1 6s. 
 POYNTER (E. y.), R.A., issued laider the superintendence of— 
 
 THE SOUTH KENSINGTON DRAWING SERIES. 
 
 FREEHAND— ELEMENTARY ORNAMENT: books 6d., cards, 
 gd. each. 
 
 FREEHAND— FIRST GRADE : books 6d., cards is. each. 
 FREEHAND— .SECOND GRADE: books is., cards is. 6d. each. 
 FREEHAND— PLANTS FROM NATURE : books 6d., cards, 
 
 IS. each. 
 FREEHAND— HUMAN FIGURE, ELEMENTARY: books 6d. 
 FREEHAND— HUMAN FIGURE, ADVANCED: books 2s. 
 
 each. 
 FREEHAND — FIGURES FROM THE CARTOONS OF 
 
 RAPHAEL : four books, 2s. each. 
 FREEHAND— ELEMENTARY PERSPECTIVE DRAWING. 
 
 By S. J. Cartlidge, F.R.Hist.S. Books is. each; or one 
 
 voUime, cloth, 5s. 
 
 REDGRA VE - 
 
 MANUAL AND CATECHISM ON COLOUR. Fifth 
 
 Edition. 24mo, sewed, gd. 
 ROBSON (GEORGE)— 
 
 ELEMENTARY BUILDING CONSTRUCTION. Oblong 
 
 folio, sewed, 8s.
 
 CHAPMAN b' HALL, LIMITED. 29 
 
 WALLIS (GEORGE)— 
 
 DRAWING-BOOK. Oblong, sewed, 3s. 6d.; mounted, 8s. 
 
 WORNUM [R. yV.)— 
 
 THE CHARACTERISTICS OF STYLES: An Intro- 
 
 duction to the Study of the History of Ornamental Art. Royal Svo, Ss. 
 
 ELEMENTARY DRAWING COPY-BOOKS, for the Use of 
 
 Children from four years old and upwards, in Schools and Families. Compiled by 
 a Student certificated by the Science and Art Department as an Art Teacher. 
 Seven liooks in 4to, sewed : 
 Book I. Letters, 8d. Book IV. Objects, 8d. 
 
 ,, V. Leaves, 8a. 
 
 IL Ditto, Sd. 
 IlL Geometrical and Ornamental 
 
 Forms, Sd. 
 
 *t* Or in Sets of Seven Books, 4s. 5d. 
 
 VL Birds, Animals, &c., 8d. 
 VI L Leaves, Flowers, and Sprays, 8d. 
 
 PRINCIPLES OF DECORATIVE ART. Folio, sewed, is. 
 DIAGRAM OF THE COLOURS OF THE SPECTRUM, 
 
 with E.\planatory Letterpress, on roller, 10s. 6d. 
 
 COPIES FOR OUTLINE DRAWING: 
 
 LARGE FREEHAND EXAMPLES FOR CLASS TEACHING. Specially 
 
 prepared under the authority of the Science and Art Department. Six Sheets. 
 
 Size 60 by 40. 9s. 
 DYCE'S ELEMENTARY OUTLINES OF ORNAMENT, 50 Selected Plates, 
 
 mounted back and front, i8s. ; unmounted, sewed, S';. 
 WEITBRICHTS OUTLINES OF ORNAMENl', reproduced by Herman, 
 
 12 Plates, mounted back and front, 8s. 6d. ; unmounted, 2s. 
 MORGHEN'S OUTLINES OF THE HUMAN FIGURE, reproduced by Herman, 
 
 20 Plates, mounted back and front, 15s. ; unmounted, 3s. 4d. 
 TARSIA, from Gruner, Four Plates, mounted, 3s. 6d., unmounted, 7d. 
 ALBERTOLLI'S FOLIAGE, Four Plates, mounted, 3s. 6d. ; unmounted, sd. 
 OUTLINE OF TRAJAN FRIEZE, mounted, is. 
 WALLIS'S DRAWING-BOOK, mounted, 8s., unmounted, 3s. 6d. 
 OUTLINE DRAWINGS OF FLOWERS, Eight Plates, mounted, 3s. 6d.; 
 
 unmounted, 8d. 
 
 COPIES FOR SHADED DRAWING: 
 
 COURSE OF DESIGN. By Ch. Bargue (French), 20 Sheets, £2 gs. 
 ARCHITECTURAL STUDIES. By J. B. Tkipon. 10 Plates, £1. 
 MECHANICAL STUDIES. By J. B. Tripon. 15s. per dozen. 
 FOLIATED SCROLL FROM THE VATICAN, unmounted, sd.; mounted, is. 3d. 
 TWELVE HEADS after Holbein, selected from his Drawings in Her Majesty's 
 
 Collection at Windsor. Reproduced in Autotype, Half imperial, ;ii 16s. 
 LESSONS IN SEPIA, gs. per dozen. 
 
 COLOURED EXAMPLES: 
 
 A SMALL DIAGRAM OF COLOUR, mounted, is. 6d. ; unmounted, gd. 
 COTMAN'S PENCIL LANDSCAPES (set of 9), mounted, iss. 
 
 „ SEPIA DRAWINGS (set of s), mounted, £1. 
 
 ALLONGE'S LANDSCAPES IN CHARCOAL (Six), at 4s. each, or the set, £i 4s. 
 
 SOLID MODELS, &c. : 
 
 *Box of Models, ^i 4s. 
 A Stand with a universal joint, to show the solid models, &c., £1 iSs. 
 *One Wire Quadrangle, with a circle and cross within it, and one straight wire. One 
 
 solid tube. One Skeleton Wire Cube. One Sphere. One Cone. One Cylinder. 
 
 One Hexagonal Prism. £2 2S.
 
 30 B007CS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 SOLID MODELS, ^z.— Continued. 
 
 Skeleton Cube in wood, 3s. 6d. 
 18-inch Skeleton Cube in wood, 12s. 
 *Three objects oiforin in Pottery : 
 Indian Jar, ") 
 Celadon Jar, > i8s. 6d. 
 Bottle, j 
 
 *Five selected Vases in Majolica Ware, ^'z iis. 
 *Three selected Vases in Earthenware, iSs. 
 
 Imperial Deal Frames, glazed, without sunk rings, los. each. 
 *Davidson's Smaller Solid Models, in Box, £1, containing — 
 
 2 Square Slabs. 
 
 9 Oblong Blocks (steps). 
 
 2 Cubes. 
 
 Square Blocks. 
 
 Octagon Prism. Triangular Prism. 
 
 Cylinder. Pyramid, Equilateral. 
 
 Cone. Pyramid, Isosceles. 
 
 Jointed Cross. Square Block. 
 
 •Davidson's Advanced Drawing Models, £(j. — The following is a brief description 
 of the Models : — An Obelisk — composed of 2 Octagonal Slabs, 26 and 20 inches 
 across, and each 3 inches high ; i Cube, 12 inches edge ; i Monolith (forming 
 the body of the obelisk) 3 feet high ; i Pyramid, 6 inches base ; the complete 
 object is thus nearly 5 feet high. A Market Cross— composed of 3 Slabs, 24, 18, 
 and 12 inches across, and each 3 inches high ; i Upright, 3 feet high ; 2 Cross Arms, 
 united by mortise and tenon joints; complete height, 3 feet 9 inches. A Step- 
 Ladder, 23 inches high. A Kitchen Table, 14^^ inches high. A Chair to corre- 
 spond. A Four-legged Stool, with projecting top and cross rails, height 14 inches. 
 A Tub, with handles and projecting hoops, and the divisions between the staves 
 plainly marked. A strong Trestle, 18 inches high. A Hollow Cylinder, 9 inches 
 in diameter, and 12 inches long, divided lengthwise. A Hollow Sphere, g inches 
 in diameter, divided into semi-spheres, one of which is again divided into quarters ; 
 the semi-sphere, when placed on the cylinder, gives the form and principles of 
 shading a dome, whilst one of the quarters placed on half the cylinder forms a 
 niche. 
 
 •Davidson's Apparatus for Teaching Practical Geometry (22 models), £$, 
 
 ■*Binn's Models for Illustrating the Elementary Principles of Orthographic Projection as 
 applied to Mechanical Drawing, in box, £z los. 
 
 Miller's Class Drawing Models.— These Models are particularly adapted for teaching 
 large classes ; the stand is very strong, and the universal joint will hold the 
 Models in any position. Wood Models : Square Prism, 12 inches side, 18 inches 
 high; Hexagonal Prism, 14 inches side, 18 inches high; Cube, 14 inches side: 
 Cylinder, 13 inches diameter, 16 inches high ; Hexagon Pyramid, 14 inches 
 diameter, 22^^ inches side ; Square Pyramid, 14 inches side, 22^^ inches side ; 
 Cone, 13 inches diameter, 22^ inches side ; Skeleton Cube, 19 inches solid wood 
 z% inch square ; Intersecting Circles, 19 inches solid wood 2% by i^^ inches. 
 Wire Models : Triangular Prism, 17 inches side, 22 inches high ; Square Prism, 
 14 inches side, 20 inches high ; Hexagonal Prism, 16 inches diameter, 21 inches 
 high ; Cylinder, 14 inches diameter, 21 inches high ; Hexagon Pyramid, i8 inches 
 diameter, 24 inches high ; Square Pyramid, 17 inches side, 24 inches high ; Cone, 
 17 inches side, 24 inches high ; Skeleton Cube, 19 inches side ; Intersecting Circles, 
 19 inches side ; Plain Circle, 19 inches side ; Plain Square, 19 inches side. Table, 
 27 inches by 21 J^ inches. Stand. The set complete, £t.\ 13s. 
 Vulcanite Set Square, 5s. 
 Large Compasses, with chalk holder, 5s. 
 
 *Slip, two set squares and X square, 5s. 
 
 *Parkes's Case of Instruments, containing 6-inch compasses with pen and pencil leg, 53. 
 
 •Prize Instrument Case, with 6-inch compasses pen and pencil leg, 2 small compasses, 
 pen and scale, i8s. 
 6-inch Compasses, with shifting pen and point, 4s. 6d. 
 
 * Models, &c., entered as sets, can only be supplied in sets. 
 
 LARGE DIAGRAMS. 
 
 ASTRONOMICAL : 
 
 TWELVE SHEETS. By John Dkew, Ph. Dr., F.R.S.A. Sheets, L2 8s. 
 rollers and varnished, £^ 4s.
 
 CHAPMAN 6" HALL, LIMITED. 31 
 
 BOTANICAL : 
 
 NINE SHEETS. Illustrating a Practical Method of Teaching Botany. By Professor 
 Henslow, F.L.S. £2; on rollers and varnished, ^3 3s. 
 
 CLASS. DIVISION. SECTION. 
 
 ( /Thalamifloral 
 
 Dicotyledon . . . . ) Angiospermous . . g^^Ji 
 / (.Incomplete 
 
 ( Gymnospermous 
 
 I Petaloid . . . . f Superior 
 
 Monocotyledons .A \ Inferior . 
 
 ( Glumaceous 
 
 &3 
 4 
 S 
 6 
 
 7 
 
 * Models, &c., entered as sets, can only be supplied in sets. 
 
 BUILDING CONSTRUCTION: 
 
 TEN SHEETS. By William J. Glenny. In sets, p^i is. 
 
 LAXTON'S EXAMPLES OF BUILDING CONSTRUCTION, containing 
 
 32 Imperial Plates, £\. 
 BUSBRIDGE'S DRAWING OF BUILDING CONSTRUCTION. 36 Sheets, 
 
 gs. IMounted on cardboard, iSs. 
 
 GEOLOGICAL : 
 
 DIAGRAM OF BRITISH STRATA. By H. W. Bristow, F.R.S., F.G.S. 
 A Sheet, 4s. ; on roller and varnished, 7s. 6d. 
 
 MECHANICAL : 
 
 DIAGRAMS OF THE MECHANICAL POWERS, AND THEIR APPLI- 
 CATIONS IN MACHINERY AND THE ARTS GENERALLY. By 
 Dr. John Anderson. 8 Diagrams, highly coloured, on stout paper, 3 feet 6 inches 
 by 2 feet 6 inches. Sheets £1 ; mounted on rollers, £,1. 
 
 DIAGRAMS OF THE STEAM-ENGINE. By Prof. Goodeve and Prof. Shelley. 
 Stout paper,_4o inches by 27 inches, highly coloured. 41 Diagrams (52% Sheets), 
 £(> 6s.; varnished and mounted on rollers, £\\ iis. 
 
 MACHINE DETAILS. By Prof. Unwin. 16 Coloured Diagrams. Sheets, ;^2 is. ; 
 mounted on rollers and varnished, £-i 14s. 
 
 SELECTED EXAMPLES OF MACHINES, OF IRON AND WOOD (French). 
 
 By Stanislas Pettit. 60 Sheets, .£3 5s. ; 13s. per dozen. 
 
 BUSBRIDGE'S DRAWINGS OF MACHINE CONSTRUCTION. 50 Sheets, 
 I2S. 6d. Mounted, £\ 5s. 
 
 PHYSIOLOGICAL : 
 
 ELEVEN SHEETS. Illustrating Human Physiology, Life Size and Coloured from 
 Nature. Prepared under the direction of John Marshall, F.R.S., F.R.C.S., &c. 
 Each Sheet, 12s. 6d. On canvas and rollers, varnished, £\ is. 
 
 1. THE SKELETON AND LIGAMENTS. 
 
 2. THE MUSCLES, JOINTS, AND ANIMAI, MECHANICS. 
 
 3. THE VISCERA IN POSITION.— THE STRUCTURE OF THE LUNGS. 
 
 4. THE ORGANS OF CIRCULATION. 
 
 5. THE LYMPHATICS OR ABSORBENTS. 
 
 6. THE ORGANS OF DIGESTION. 
 
 7. THE> BRAIN AND NERVES.— THE ORGANS OF THE VOICE. 
 8&9. THE ORGANS OF THE SENSES. 
 
 10 & II. THE MICROSCOPIC STRUCTURE OF THE TEXTURES AND 
 ORGANS. 
 
 HUMAN BODY, LIFE SIZE. Bv John Marshall, F.R.S., F.R.C.S. Each 
 Sheet, i2S. 6d. ; on canvas and rollers, varnished, £1 is. Explanatorj" Key, is. 
 I, 2, 3. THE SKELETON, Front, Rack, and Side View. 
 5, 6, 7. THE MUSCLES, Front, Back, and Side View. 
 
 ZOOLOGICAL : 
 
 TEN SHEETS. Illustrating the Classification of Animals. By Rohert Pattekson. 
 £2 ; on canvas and rollers, varnished, £■>, los. 
 
 PHYSIOLOGY AND ANATOMY OF THE HONEY BEE. 
 
 Two Diagrams. 7s. 6d.
 
 52 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY CHAPMAN &> HALL, LLMITED. 
 
 THE FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW. 
 
 Edited by T. H. S. ESGOTT. 
 
 HE FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW is published on the ist of 
 every month, and a Volume is completed every Six Months. 
 
 The following are among the Contiibutors : — 
 
 T 
 
 SIR RUTHERFORD ALCOCK. 
 
 MATHEW ARNOLD. 
 
 PROFESSOR BAIN. 
 
 SIR SAMUEL BAKER. 
 
 PROFESSOR BEESLY. 
 
 PAUL BERT. 
 
 BARON GEORGETON BUNSEN. 
 
 DR. BRIDGES. 
 
 HON. GEORGE C. BRODRICK. 
 
 JAMES BRYCE, M.P. 
 
 THOMAS BURT, M.P. 
 
 SIR GEORGE CAMPBELL, M.P. 
 
 THE EARL OF CARNARVON. 
 
 EMILIO CASTELAR. 
 
 RT. HON. J. CHAMBERLAIN, M.P. 
 
 PROFESSOR SIDNEY COLVIN. 
 
 MONTAGUE COOKSON, Q.C. 
 
 L. H. COURTNEY, M.P. 
 
 G. H. DARWIN. 
 
 SIR GEORGE W. DASENT. 
 
 PROFESSOR A. V. DICEY. 
 
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