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 A COLONIAL EEFORMER
 
 COLONIAL EEFOKMEE 
 
 BY 
 
 EOLF BOLDEEWOOD 
 
 AUTHOR OF 'robbery UNDER ARMS,' 'THE SQUATTER'S DREAM, 
 
 'the miner's right,' etc. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I 
 
 ILontron 
 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 AND NEW YORK 
 
 i8 9;o 
 
 All rights reserved
 
 I 
 
 LO 
 
 "~ CHAPTER I 
 
 
 
 CO 
 
 When Mr. Ernest JSTeuchamp, younger, of Neucliampstead, 
 
 ^Bucks, quitted the ancient roof-tree of his race, for a 
 
 deliberate conflict with fortune, in a far land, he carried 
 
 '5 with him a purpose which went far to neutralise doubt 
 
 3 and depression. 
 
 A crusader rather than a colonist, his lofty aims 
 
 embraced far more than the ordinary sordid struggle 
 
 with unkind nature, with reluctant success. Such might 
 
 ^ be befitting aspirations for eager and rude adventurers, 
 
 half speculators, half buccaneers. Th,ey might fitly 
 
 strive and drive — bargain and save — gamble, overreach, 
 
 'overwork themselves and one another, as he doubted not 
 
 ^^:all colonists did in their proverbially hurried, feverish 
 
 lives. But for a Neuchamp, of Neuchampstead, was 
 
 ~^eserved more chivalric exertion — a loftier destiny. 
 
 3 As his ancestors had devoted themselves (with more 
 
 C: energy than discretion, said tradition) to the refinement 
 
 and elevation of the Anglo-Saxons — when first the 
 
 .^banner of Tancred of ISTeuchamp floated over the Buck- 
 
 ^ingham.shire meadows — so would his lineal descendant 
 
 ^ diffuse ' sweetness and light ' among a vigorous but 
 
 Jnecessarily uncultured community, emerging from his 
 
 ^ VOL. I B
 
 2 A COLOIN'IAL REFORMER cn.vi-. 
 
 unselfish toil, after a few years, with a modest com- 
 petency, and the reputation of an Australian Manco 
 Capac of the south. 
 
 Ernest Neuchamp fully endorsed the dictum that 
 ' colonisation was heroic work.' He superadded to this 
 assent a conviction that he was among the heroes destined 
 to leave a glorious memory in the annals of the colony 
 which he intended to honour. 
 
 For the somewhat exceptional though not obsolete 
 character of reformer, he was fitted by natural tendency, 
 derived probably from hereditary predisposition. The 
 Neuchamps had always been leading and staunch re- 
 formers, from a period whence ' the memory of man 
 goeth not to the contrary.' Of Merrie England they 
 would have secured a much larger slice had they not 
 been, after Hastings, more deeply concerned in inflicting 
 reforms up.n the stubborn or despondent Saxons than 
 in hunting after manorial privileges with a view to ex- 
 tension of territory. Even in ]N"ormandy, old chroniclers 
 averred that Balder-Eagnaiok, nicknamed Wiinsche (or 
 the wisher), who married the heiress of ISTeuchamp, and 
 founded the family, converted a fair estate into a facsimile 
 of a Norse grazing farm, maddening the peasantry, and 
 strengthening his natural enemies by an everlasting tute- 
 lage as exasperating towards others as fascinating to 
 himself. 
 
 Mr. Courtenay Neuchamp, who inherited, in happier 
 times, the ancestral hall, in Buckinghamshire, was an 
 easy-going man of the world, combining a shrewd outlook 
 upon his own affairs with the most perfect indifference 
 as to how his neighbours managed theirs. He was a 
 better man oT business than Ernest, though he had not a 
 tittle of his energy or fiery abstract zeal. So far from
 
 I A COLONIAL REFORMER 3 
 
 giving credit to his ancestors, and their spirited efforts, 
 he bewailed their misdirected energies. 
 
 ' They were a lot of narrow-minded busybodies/ he 
 would often remark, ' incapable of managing their own 
 affairs with decent success, and what little power they 
 ever possessed they devoted to the annoyance of their 
 neighbours, people probably much wiser than them- 
 selves.' 
 
 ' They had noble aims, to which they gave their lives,' 
 Ernest would reply ; ' I reverence their memories deeply, 
 fervently, more — a hundredfold — than if they had left 
 us the largest manor in the county, amassed by greed 
 and selfishness.' 
 
 ' So don't I ; nothing can be more disgraceful than to 
 see the representatives of the oldest family in the shire 
 (for these Tudors are of yesterday) possessed only of an 
 estate of less acreage than a tenant-farmer tills, with an 
 inconvenient old rookery, hardly good enough for the 
 said tenant-farmer to live in. I wish I had lived a few 
 centuries earlier.' 
 
 ' You would have enlarged our borders,' said the 
 younger son, ' but at what a cost ! We boast a long roll 
 of stainless ancestors, each of whom was true to his God, 
 to his king, to his plighted word, and who called no man 
 his master, save his anointed sovereign. You would 
 have been cursed with an unhappy posterity of spend- 
 thrifts, profligates, oppressors of the poor or trucklers to 
 the rich.' 
 
 ' Gra' mercy ! as we used to say, for thy prophecies 
 and predictions. I see no necessity for vice being 
 necessarily allied to success in life. I believe sometimes 
 it is rather the other way. But you were always head- 
 strong ; slave to imagination, that misleader of humanity.
 
 4 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 Go on your own path, and you may convert all 
 the Papuans, Australians, New Zealanders, or whatever 
 they are, that you are going to waste your life among, 
 if you have sufficient breathing time before you are 
 roasted.' 
 
 ' I am going to New South Wales, in Australia, where 
 they don't roast people any more than in Bucks. But 
 you will never read up on any subject.' 
 
 ' Why the deuce should I ? ' demanded the senior. 
 ' What earthly benefit can I derive from the manners 
 and customs of foreign savages. We have them of our 
 own and to spare. If thereby I could persuade these 
 pig-headed tenants of ours to farm in a more enlightened 
 way, and pay interest on capital advanced for their 
 benefit, or learn how to get old Sir Giles Windereach to 
 sell us back that corner his father bought of Slacklyne 
 Neuchamp, I wouldn't mind. Why else should I read 
 beastly dry books ? ' 
 
 ' Because you would learn to take an interest in your 
 kind, and might then propose to yourself the healthful 
 task of trying to improve them.' 
 
 ' But,' said Courtenay, rather disrespectfully, ' why 
 should I improve those classes, from which as a land- 
 owner and very minor capitalist, I find it hard enough to 
 defend my property as it is ? Go and test a grocer in 
 arithmetic, you will 'find him the more accurate man, and 
 the readier. Try a labourer at his own cart, and see 
 how he is at once your superior. Depend upon it, all 
 this upheaval of lower social strata is bad. Some day we 
 may find that we have freed internal fires and exploded 
 social volcanoes.' 
 
 ' I shall make the attempt where I am going, however,' 
 said Ernest with decision. ' It may be that there are
 
 I A COLONIAL PtEFORMER 5 
 
 peculiar advantages in a new land, and a sparse popula- 
 tion, without the crushingr vested interests which weigh 
 one to the dust in the old world.' 
 
 ' Perhaps you may gather some of the dust of the new, 
 which is gold, they say, if they don't lie, as most probably 
 they do. Then you can rear an Australian ISTeuchamp- 
 stead, which will be the third, under such conditions, 
 built by our family, if old records are true. I wish you 
 were taking more capital with you, old fellow, though.' 
 
 Here the elder man slightly relaxed the cold un- 
 demonstrative regard which his aquiline features usually 
 wore, as he gazed for a few moments upon the ardent 
 expressive face of the cadet of his house. ' It's another 
 of the family faults that we can neither stay decently 
 together at home, nor fit out our knights-errant worthily 
 for the crusade.' 
 
 ' My dear Courtenay,' said the younger son, touched 
 to the depth of a delicate and sensitive nature by the 
 rare concession of the head of the house, ' things are best 
 as they are. You have enough w^hich you require. I 
 have not enough, which is an equal necessity of my 
 nature. I should die here like a falcon in a corn- 
 chandler's shop, pining for the sweep of her long wings 
 against the sea-cliff, where with wave and tempest she 
 could scream in concert. Hope and adventure are my 
 life, the breath of my nostrils, and forth I must go.' 
 
 ' Well, my blessing go with you, Ernest ; I neither 
 mistrust your courage nor capacity, and in any land 
 you will probably hold your own. But I should have 
 more confidence in your success if you had less of that 
 infernal Neuchamp taste for managing other people's 
 affairs.' 
 
 ' But, my dear Courtenay, is it not the part of a true
 
 6 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 knioflit and a Christian man to lead others into the rif^ht 
 path ? We thankfully accept it from others. I think of 
 the many needs of a new land, and of the rude dwellers 
 therein.' 
 
 ' I hate to be put right — colonists may be of the same 
 opinion. You never can be induced to do anything that 
 is suggested by another, or any Neuchamp, that I ever 
 heard of.' 
 
 ' Because we take particular care to be identified with 
 the latest, and most successful practice in all respects.' 
 
 ' Because we are always right, I suppose. A comfort- 
 able theory, but of which the public cannot always be 
 convinced. I never try to convince them — I merely 
 wish to be left alone. That is where I differ from you.' 
 
 ' You will never gain, however, by your principles, 
 Courtenay.' 
 
 'You will lose your fortune by following out yours, 
 Ernest.' 
 
 The conversation having ended, as had nearly all 
 previous discussions between the brothers, in each ad- 
 hering steadfastly to his own opinion, Ernest went his 
 own way with the cheerful obstinacy of his character. 
 He selected a ship and a colony. He ordered a large, 
 comprehensive, and comparatively useless outfit. He 
 purchased several books of fact and fiction, bearing upon 
 the land of his adoption, for reading upon the voyage, and 
 girding himself up, he finally completed all necessary 
 arrangements. He bade farewell to the old home — to 
 the villagers, whom he had known from boyhood — and 
 to his friends and kinsfolk. He did then actually set 
 sail in the clipper-ship St. Swithin, comforting himself 
 with heroic parallels of all ages and all shades of maritime 
 adventure.
 
 1 A COLONIAL REFORMER 7 
 
 On the voyage out, he made acquaintance with several 
 agreeable people. Of these, many were, like himself, 
 sailing to Australia for the first time. Others were 
 returning to the great south land, where they had probably 
 spent their early years, or indeed been born. Among 
 these, though he was not aware of the fact, since they did 
 not advertise it, was a family named Middleton, consisting 
 of a father, mother, and two daughters. These last were 
 quiet and well-mannered, but decidedly amusing. Alice 
 Middleton was handsome and lively ; Barbara was rather 
 staid, given to reading, and did not talk much, except with 
 congenial people. She, however, could speak very much 
 to the point, should such speaking be needed. With this 
 family Mr. Neuchamp became on sutficiently intimate 
 terms to confide his views upon colonial life, including 
 his hopes of benefiting the citizens of his adopted country 
 by the inculcation of the newest English ideas in farming 
 and other important subjects. He did not find that 
 readiness of response which he had looked for. This 
 puzzled and slightly annoyed him, as from their intelli- 
 gent sympathy in other matters he had confidently 
 reckoned upon their co-operation. Indeed he had dis- 
 covered the second Miss Middleton in the act of smiling, 
 as if at his enthusiasm; while the matron, a shrewd, 
 observant person, went the length of inquiring whether 
 he did not think it would be better to see something of 
 the country, before settling the affairs of its inhabitants. 
 
 ' My dear Mrs. Middleton,' replied Mr. Neuchamp with 
 grave dissent, ' I regret that I cannot see the force of your 
 position. My feeling is that one is far more certain to 
 criticise fairly and dispassionately a new land and a new 
 state of society, while one's impressions are sharply and 
 freshly defined. Afterwards, the finer lines are effaced
 
 8 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 by use, wont, and local prejudice. No ! depend upon it, 
 the newly-arrived observer has many advantages.' 
 
 ' Then you do not think it possible,' said Alice 
 Middleton, ' that the new — arrival should make any mis- 
 takes in his inspection of the unlucky colonists ? ' 
 
 ' If he has cultivated his power of observation, and 
 his critical faculty, so that he can trust himself to be just 
 and impartial, I do not see that it matters whether he 
 may have lived one year or ten in any given country.' 
 
 ' You will find that it does matter,' retorted his fair 
 antagonist, ' unless you are different from every other 
 Englishman we have ever seen.' 
 
 ' Why, have you lived in Australia ? ' inquired he with 
 accents of extreme surprise. ' I had no idea of the fact.' 
 
 ' We have been there all our lives,' said Barbara 
 Middleton, 'excepting for the last three years. Why 
 should you think we had not been there ? ' 
 
 ' I — really — don't know,' protested Mr. Neuchamp, 
 now discovering suddenly that he was on unsafe ground. 
 ' I thought you were English, and making the voyage, 
 like myself, for the first time.' 
 
 * Don't apologise, laughed Alice ; ' you may as well 
 say at once that you thought we were too much like 
 ordinary English people to be colonists,' and she made him 
 a slight bow. 
 
 ' Well, so I did,' confessed our hero, too honest to 
 evade the expression of his opinions. * But you know, 
 you're so — well — you do expect a little difference in 
 appearance, or manner ' 
 
 ' Or complexion ? ' continued his fair tormentor. ' Did 
 you think Australians were — ^just a little — dark ? ' 
 
 ' I recant, and apologise, and sue for pardon,' said 
 Ernest, now completely dislodged from his pedestal, a
 
 I A COLONIAL REFORMER 9 
 
 horrid thought obtruding itself that similar discoveries 
 would narrow his mission to most uninteresting dimen- 
 sions. 
 
 ' This ' check to his queen ' sobered Mr. Neuchamp for 
 several days. He began to question the probability of 
 influencing society in Australia to any great extent, if the 
 component parts were like the Middleton family. How- 
 ever, he reflected that people of cultivated tastes and 
 unexceptionable manners were rare in any country. 
 And when he thought of the vast interior with its 
 scattered untra veiled population, hope revived and he 
 again saw himself the ' guide, philosopher, and friend of a 
 guileless and grateful people.' 
 
 There were several landed proprietors who held great 
 possessions in Australia among the passengers, with 
 whom he made a point of conversing whenever such 
 conversation was possible. But here again unexpected 
 hindrances and obstacles arose. 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp found that these returning Australians 
 were rather reserved, and had very little to say about 
 the land in which so large a portion of their lives had 
 been passed. They committed tliemselves to the extent 
 of stating in answer to his numerous inquiries, that it 
 was a ' very fair sort of place — you could manage to live 
 there.' ' As to the people ? ' ' Well, they were much 
 like people everywhere else — some good, some bad.' 
 ' Climate ? ' ' Hot in some places, cold in others.' 
 ' Manners ? ' ' Well, many of the inhabitants hadn't 
 any, but that was a complaint almost universal at the 
 present day.' The oppressed colonist generally wound up 
 by stating that when he, Neuchamp, had been in Aus- 
 tralia for a year or two, he would know all about it. 
 
 All this was very unsatisfactory. As far as these
 
 10 A COLOXIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 pieces of evidence went, the terra incognita to which, 
 after such rending of ancient associations and family ties, 
 he was even now voyaging, was as prosaic as Middlesex 
 or Kent. These people either did not know anything 
 about their own country or their own people, or, with the 
 absurd indifferentism of Englishmen, did not care. He 
 was partly reassured by one of the more youthful pas- 
 sengers, who had not been very long away from his 
 Australian birthland. He considerately raised Ernest's 
 spirits, and his estimate of Australia as a ' wonderland,' 
 by certain historiettes and tales of adventure by flood 
 and field. But when he introduced Indians, habitual 
 scalping, and a serpent fifty feet long, Mr. Neuchamp's 
 course of reading enabled him to detect the unprincipled 
 fabrication, and to withdraw with dignity. 
 
 In due course of time, the vessel which carried Mr. 
 Neuchamp and his purpose arrived at her destination. 
 The night was misty, so that he had no opportunity of 
 comparing the harbour of Sydney with the numerous 
 descriptions which he had read. He was met on the 
 wharf by the perfectly British inquiry of ' Cab, sir, cab ? ' 
 upon replying to which in the affirmative, he was rattled 
 up to the lioyal Hotel, and charged double fare, with a 
 completeness and despatch upon which even a Shoreditch 
 Station cabby could not have improved. 
 
 Having renovated himself with a bath and breakfast, 
 Mr. Xeuchamp proceeded to view the component parts 
 of the busy street from the balcony of the great caravan- 
 serai. On the whole, he did not see any striking 
 departure from the appearance of an ordinary London 
 thoroughfare. There were omnibuses raking the whole 
 length of the street, fore and aft, as it were, well horsed 
 with upstanding powerful animals; the drivers, too, had
 
 I A COLONIAL REFORMER 11 
 
 something of the misanthropical air which the true 
 'busman always acquires after a certain period. Han- 
 soms rattled about, with the express-train flavour peculiar 
 to that luxurious vehicle for the unencumbered. Well- 
 appointed carriages, from which descended fashionably 
 attired dames and damsels, drew np at imposing haber- 
 dashers for a little early and quiet shopping. The foot 
 passengers did not look as if they were likely to contri- 
 bute to any Arabian Nights entertainment either. They 
 wore chiefly black coats, I grieve to say black hats, and 
 serious countenances, exactly like the mercantile and 
 legal sections of the city men in London. The labourers 
 wore the same shoddy suits, the sailors the same loose 
 or inexplicable tightened garments, the postmen the same 
 red coat, the shabby-genteel people the same threadbare 
 ditto ; even the blind man, with a barrel-organ, had the 
 same reflectoral expression that he had often noticed. 
 All the types were identical with those he had hoped 
 to have left ten thousand miles away. Certainly he did 
 see occasionally a sauntering squatter, bronzed, bearded, 
 and insouciant; but he, again, was so near akin to a 
 country gentleman who had taken a run to town, or a 
 stray soldier on leave, that he was upon the point of 
 exclaiming, ' How disgustingly English ! ' w^hen a slight 
 incident turned his thoughts to the far and wondrous 
 interior. Down the street, on a grand-looking young 
 horse, at a pace more suggestive of stretching out through 
 endless forest-parks than of riding with propriety through 
 a narrow and crowded thoroughfare, came a born bush- 
 man. He was a tall man, wearing a wide-leaved felt 
 hat and a careless rig generally, such as suggested to 
 Mr. Neuchamp the denizen of the waste, whom he 
 had hungered and thirsted to see. Here he was in the
 
 12 A COLONIAL REFORMEK chap, i 
 
 flesh evidently, and Ernest drank in with greedy eyes 
 his swarthy complexion, his erect yet easy seat on his 
 horse. However, just as he was passing the hotel, 
 whether the gallant nomad was looking another way, or 
 whether he had considered the hour, early as it w^as, not 
 unsuitable for refreshment, the fact must here be stated 
 that the colt, observing some triumph of civilisation for the 
 first time (a human advertising sandwich), stopped with 
 deathlike suddenness ; his rider was shot on to the crow^n 
 of his head wath startling force. Mr. Neuchamp was 
 preparing to rush downstairs to the rescue, when a 
 quietly attired passer-by stepped up to the snorting colt 
 and, with a gentle adroitness that told of use and wont, 
 secured and soothed him. The gallant bushman arose, 
 looking half-stunned ; then, gazing ruefully at the crown 
 of his sombrero, he felt the top of his head somewhat 
 distrustfully, and with a word of thanks to the stranger, 
 who held the rein in a peculiar manner till he was safe 
 in the saddle, mounted and pursued his way after a swift 
 but guarded fashion. ' My word, sir,' w^as his single 
 remark, ' I didn't think he'd ha' propped like that — thank 
 you all the same.' 
 
 Inspirited by this incident as showing a possibility 
 of lights and shadows even upon this too English fore- 
 ground, Mr. Neuchamp thought that he would deliver 
 one of his letters of introduction to a merchant, whose 
 advice he had been specially recommended to take in 
 the purchase of land, or of whatever property he should 
 select for investment.
 
 CHAPTEE II 
 
 When the past is reviewed, and the clear sad lamp of 
 experience sheds its soft gleam upon the devious track, 
 then are all apparent the scarce shunned precipices, the 
 hidden pitfalls, the bones of long dead victims. Then 
 can we measure the tender patience with which our 
 guardian angel warned or wooed into safety. 
 
 Here, where we loitered all heedless, flower- crowned, 
 and wine-flushed, languished the serpent syren, heavenly 
 fair, but deadliest of all. We had been surely sped. 
 But an idle impulse, the tone of a passing melody, led 
 to change of purpose, of route, and we stood scatheless 
 anon, having tripped lightly among deaths as sudden and 
 shattering as the lighted explosive. 
 
 At the diverging roads, where dumb and scornful sat 
 the sphinx of our destiny, while we lightly glanced at 
 the path whence none return, save in such guise that 
 death were dearer, why did our heedless footsteps cling 
 all instinctively to the narrow, the thrice blessed way ? 
 
 And yet again, in the dark hour when we should 
 liave been watchful as tlie mariner on an unknown shore, 
 who casts the lead over every foot of the passage through 
 which his barque seems so easily gliding, how was our 
 careless pride brought low, how sudden was the sorrow,
 
 14 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 liow dreary the bondage, till we were ransomed from the 
 dungeon of the pitiless one. From what endless weeping 
 would not, alas, a dim knowledge and recognition of the 
 first false step have saved us ! 
 
 Such a false step Mr. ISTeuchamp was nigh upon 
 adopting, with all its train of evil consequences. At the 
 mid -day table cVhote at the Eoyal Hotel, sufficiently 
 welcome to him after the weary main, sat a florid, good- 
 looking, smiling, middle-aged man, evidently a gentleman, 
 and not less surely connected with the country division. 
 He happened, apparently by chance, to be seated next 
 to Ernest, who was immediately attracted by his bon- 
 homie, his humorous epigrammatic talk, joined to the 
 outward signs and tokens of the man of the world. 
 
 ' You have not been very long in this part of the 
 country ? ' said the agreeable stranger. 
 
 Ernest slightly coloured as he replied, ' I certainly 
 have not ; but I confess I don't see why I should be 
 affiche as a new and inexperienced traveller. You and I 
 are dressed much alike, after all,' added he, glancing at 
 the other's well-cut travelling suit of rough tw^eed and 
 the black hat which hung beside his own upon the pegs 
 provided for lunch-consuming visitors. 
 
 ' True, quite true,' agreed his new acquaintance ; ' and 
 it is not, perhaps, good manners to remark upon a gentle- 
 man as a species of foreign novelty. I remember a few 
 years since chafing at it myself. But my heart warms 
 to an Englishman of a certain sort. And we Australians 
 learn to know the Britisher by all manner of slight signs, 
 including a fresh complexion. I really believe, if you 
 will pardon my rudeness in guessing, that you come from 
 near my own county ? ' 
 
 Ernest explained the locality of Neuchampstead, upon
 
 II A COLONIAL REFORMER 15 
 
 which the affable stranger rose and shook him violently 
 with both hands, exclaiming, ' I could have sworn it. 
 Our people have been friends for ages. I come from 
 just over the border. You've heard of the Selmores, of 
 Saleham ? ' mentioning county people well known by 
 name to Ernest. 
 
 'Now this is very delightful,' said his new friend, 
 after all explanations had been made, ' and I shall take 
 charge of you without any scruple. You had better 
 change your quarters to the New Holland Club. I can 
 have you admitted as an honorary member without a 
 day's delay. I am a member; but I came here to-day 
 to meet a friend, and have done so most unexpectedly, 
 eh, my dear Neuchamp ? ' 
 
 So irresistible was Mr. Selmore, that Ernest felt abso- 
 lutely carried away by the stream of his decided manner, 
 his good stories, his pleasant sarcasms, his foreign re- 
 miniscences, and his racy description of Australian bush- 
 life (he owned several stations, it would seem, himself). 
 So it was natural that after a bottle of hock, of a rare 
 vintage, ordered in honour of their auspicious meeting, 
 that he should confide to Mr. Selmore his plans of life, 
 his leading ideas, and the amount of capital which he 
 was free to invest in some description of landed pro- 
 perty. 
 
 After they had compressed more droll, confidential, 
 and semi -practical talk into a couple of hours than 
 would have served for a week on board ship, Mr. Sel- 
 more proposed a stroll down the street towards the 
 public gardens, which he thought his young friend would 
 find novel and interesting. 
 
 As they lounged down the principal street Ernest was 
 struck with the change in the appearance of the crowd
 
 16 A COLOXIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 which thronged one side of the footway, between the 
 bisecting cross-streets. The hard and anxious faces of 
 the world's workers which had filled the pavement in 
 the morning had vanished, and in their stead were the 
 flowerets of fashion, the gilded youth of the land, the 
 butterflies of society, the fair faces of daintily attired 
 girls, the unworn features of those ornamental human 
 types which comprise no toilers, whatever may be the 
 proportion of spinsters. 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp, whose sensitive organisation was still 
 more highly attuned by the voyage, gazed with much 
 interest upon this novel presentment. Again he could 
 not help asking himself, ' Have I really left Britain ? 
 Is this a colony, or a magically sliced-off section of 
 London life ? The swells are identical to the turn of a 
 moustache, or the set of a collar. That girl's bonnet has 
 not been two months from Paris, for I saw the fellow of 
 it, which had only that day arrived, on Cousin Amy's 
 head the week I left home. Allah is great ! Have I 
 come to reform these people ? However, this is only 
 the city. All cities are alike, except, perhaps, Tangiers 
 and Philadelphia. Wait till I get fairly into the bush ! ' 
 
 Thus, looking with pleased eyes and wondering mind, 
 ]\Ir. Neuchamp hardly noticed that his companion, as he 
 swaggered easily along, seemed to know and be known 
 of every one. He, however, did not care to stop to 
 speak to his numerous friends. As they passed on, 
 some of them, Ernest commenced to observe, regarded 
 Mr. Selmore and himself with an amused expression. 
 Keenly alive to colonial criticism, though proposing to 
 pour so many vials of the British article upon the heads 
 of these unsuspecting Arcadians, he noted more closely 
 the manner and bearing of the still undiminished num-
 
 II A COLONIAL REFORMER 17 
 
 ber of the ' friends of his friend ' whom they encountered. 
 It might have been fancy, but he thought that he saw a 
 keen glance, in some instances not altogether of mirth, 
 bestowed upon himself. 
 
 They had reached a side street, along which they 
 passed, when three young men, irreproachably attired for 
 the ante-prandial stroll, blocked the way. 
 
 ' Where are you off to in such a hurry, you old 
 humbug ? ' said a tall handsome man imperiously. ' You 
 can't have any business at this time of day.' 
 
 ' Not so sure of that,' chimed in another of the party. 
 ' / see you've got your Mack hat with you, Selmore.' 
 
 Mr. Selmore looked straight into the speaker's eyes 
 for a moment, and then gravely taking off the upper 
 covering referred to, stroked it, looked at it, and replaced 
 it upon his head. 
 
 ' Yes ! ' he said, ' Evelyn, I have ; I prefer them, even 
 in this confounded weather. They make a fellow look 
 like a gentleman if it's in him, and not like a man going 
 to a dog-fight, like that white abomination you have on.' 
 
 The trio laughed more heartily and continuously at 
 this rejoinder than Ernest thought the wit justified, to 
 the enjoyment of which Mr. Selmore abandoned them 
 without ceremony, merely remarking to Ernest, though 
 good fellows, they were awfully dissipated, and he could 
 not recommend them as friends. 
 
 Before quitting the business part of the city, where 
 the handsome massive stone buildings gave an Italian air 
 to the narrow streets, Ernest's roving eye happened to 
 light on the name of ' Erankston,' legended upon a con- 
 spicuously bright brass plate. 
 
 ' Ha ! ' said he, ' I remember something about that 
 name. Is he a merchant — do you know him ? ' 
 
 VOL. I c
 
 18 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 ' Yes/ said Mr. Selmore indifferently, ' he is a mer- 
 chant, and a tolerably sharp man of business too. Takes 
 station accounts ; but I forget, you don't quite under- 
 stand our phrases yet. He would be called more a 
 private banker where you and I hail from. Why do 
 you ask ? ' 
 
 ' Merely because I happen to have a letter of intro- 
 duction to him from a man I met abroad once, and I 
 shall deliver it to-morrow.' 
 
 Mr. Selmore did not look sympathetic at this 
 announcement, but he said little in contravention of his 
 young friend's resolve. 
 
 'You must keep your weather eye open, if he gets 
 you out to that pretty place of his, Neuchamp, or you 
 will find yourself saddled with a big station and a tight 
 mortgage before you can look round you. 
 
 Ernest had more than once thought himself extremely 
 fortunate in meeting with Mr. Selmore at so early a 
 period of his colonial career. ISTow he was confirmed in 
 that opinion. 
 
 'My dear sir, I shall be more than cautious in any 
 dealings with him, I assure you,' he said warmly. 'Are 
 these the public gardens ? How different from anything 
 I have seen before, and how surpassingly beautiful ! ' 
 
 They roamed long amid the glories of that semi- 
 tropical park, rich with the spoils of the Orient and 
 many a fairy isle of the Great South Sea. As the palms 
 and strangely formed forest trees waved in the breeze 
 fresh from a thousand leagues of ocean foam, as the blue 
 waters glanced and sparkled through the clustering 
 foliage, while they sat under giant pines and looked over 
 the sea-wall and at the white-winged saih"ng boats flit- 
 ting over the wavelets of the ocean -lake which men call
 
 II A COLONIAL REFORMER 19 
 
 the harbour of Sydney, Mr. Neuchamp freely acknow- 
 ledged his wonder and his admiration. Stronger than 
 ever was his faith in the destiny of a people with whom 
 he was fixed in determination henceforth to cast in his lot. 
 
 Mr. Selmore had obtained his consent to dine with 
 him at a well-known cafe, and thither, after visiting the 
 baths, as the short twilight was deepening into night, 
 they wended their way. 
 
 Upon entering the room the appearance of an ex- 
 tremely well-arranged dinner service was pleasant enough 
 to view, after the somewhat less ornamental garniture of 
 the table of a clipper-ship. 
 
 Ernest was introduced to two other friends of Mr, 
 Selmore, also of the pastoral persuasion, and who looked 
 as if town visiting was the exception in their rule of life. 
 
 The dinner passed off very pleasantly. The menu was 
 well chosen, the cooking more than respectable, the wines 
 unimpeadiable. Ernest was sober from habit and prin- 
 ciple. It would have been vain to have made the attempt 
 to induce him to exceed. Still, with all reasonable 
 moderation, it must be confessed that a man takes a more 
 hopeful view of life after a good dinner, more especially 
 in the days of joyous youth. 
 
 Mr. Selmore's friends were up-country dwellers, and 
 it appeared that they were, in some sort, neighbours of 
 his when at home. Much of the conversation insensibly 
 took the direction of stock-farming, and Mr. Neuchamp 
 found himself listening to tales of crossing flooded rivers 
 with droves bound for a high market, or of tens of thou- 
 sands of sheep bought and sold in a day, or the wonder- 
 ful price of wool, while intermingled were descriptions of 
 feats of horsemanship varied with an occasional encounter 
 with wild blacks.
 
 20 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 In the midst of all this, Mr. Neuchamp's ardour 
 kindled to such a pitch that he could not forbear asking 
 one of the last arrived strangers whether there was not 
 any station for sale in their district that would be suitable 
 for him. 
 
 One of the pastorals looked at the other in astonish- 
 ment, when they both looked reproachfully at Mr. 
 Selmore. 
 
 'You don't mean to say,' at length broke out the 
 older man, whose assiduity to the bottle had been un- 
 abated, ' that you haven't told our young friend here 
 that Gammon Downs is for sale, 'pon my soul it's too 
 bad ! ' 
 
 ' Why, it's the very place in the whole blessed colony,' 
 said the other, ' for a new arrival — good water, good sheep, 
 a nice handy little run, and the best house in the 
 district.' 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp was so struck with the expressive and 
 interrogatory looks of the two bush residents, that he 
 bent a searching look upon Mr. Selmore, as if he had in 
 some mysterious way been ill-treated by the withholding 
 of confidence. 
 
 ' Well,' at length spoke out that gentleman, with an 
 air of manly frankness, ' you know me too well to think 
 that I should propose to sell one of my own runs to a 
 friend, comparatively inexperienced, of course, though well 
 up in English farming, on the very first day I had met 
 him. There are people, of course, who would do this, 
 and more — but Hartley Selmore is not one of that sort.' 
 
 ' But it does seem a shame,' said the grizzled squatter, 
 filling his glass, ' that if you have one of the best runs in 
 the country, that you should refuse to sell it to this 
 gentleman merely because he is a personal friend.'
 
 II A COLONIAL REFORMER 21 
 
 * Thank you,' said Ernest warmly, ' you have inter- 
 preted my sentiments admirably. If this estate, or 
 station, would be so suitable, why should we not come to 
 terms about it like any one else ? ' 
 
 ' So remarkably cheap too,' said the other man ; ' but 
 I suppose Selmore wants a lot of cash down.' 
 
 ' I have only five thousand pounds,' said Mr. Neu- 
 champ, 'and perhaps your property is far above that 
 limit.' 
 
 ' It is less than I thought of taking,' said Mr. Selmore 
 thoughtfully ; ' but, yes ; I don't mind arranging for bills, 
 at one and two years, which, of course, if you bought, 
 could be easily paid out of the profits of the station. But 
 pass the claret, we won't talk any more shop to-night. 
 Just so far that my friends, who live near my place, are 
 going up the day after to-morrow. They will be glad of 
 your company, and will show you the wonders of the 
 bush, including Gammon Downs. You can then, my 
 dear Neuchamp, judge for yourself.' 
 
 This plan appearing to Ernest to combine the utmost 
 liberality on the part of the vendor with special advan- 
 tages to the purchaser, who could have abundant time to 
 examine and deliberate about his investment, was promptly 
 acceded to. 
 
 He departed at the close of the evening to the hotel, 
 at which place he had decided to stay, notwithstanding 
 the tempting offer of a club bedroom. Ernest Neuchamp 
 was not minded to give up his habits of observation, and 
 for the exercise of his pursuit he deemed the hostelry of 
 the period more favourable than any modern club. 
 
 Human nature is so constituted that a project feasible, 
 favourable, and merely needing the very smallest propul- 
 sion into action over night wears a changed aspect with
 
 22 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 the dawn. As Mr. Neuchamp regained his suspended 
 senses in a hot and mosquito-raided upper chamber in 
 the Eoyal, the idea of becoming at a plunge the pro- 
 prietor of Gammon Downs showed less alluring than 
 over the joyous claret-illumined board of yester eve. 
 What if the name (given by the rude pioneers, it had 
 been explained to him from some nonsensical circum- 
 stance) should be only too correct a designation for a 
 delusive investment ? What if Mr. Selmore were a little 
 too obliging, confidential, and considerate for a true and 
 generous vendor? What if his companions, who cer- 
 tainly appreciated the claret, were likely from friendship 
 or interest to be leagued against the stranger ? It 
 behoved him to be careful. The slender resources of 
 Neuchampstead had been strained to their utmost to supple- 
 ment his younger brother's portion. Were this lost he 
 could never regain his position. And though with the 
 recklessness of a sanguine temperament, he would, with- 
 out much regret, have addressed himself to the task of 
 carving out a fortune with his own right hand in this 
 land of promise, still he fully recognised the vast differ- 
 ence between a capital even of moderate amount and 
 none at all. 
 
 Throwing on a few clothes hastily, he strolled off 
 towards the baths, and after a leisurely swim in the cool 
 translucent wave, he found his appetite for breakfast im- 
 proved and his mental vision obviously cleared. He 
 arrived at divers and various wise resolutions ; and one 
 of them was to call upon Mr. Frankston, the merchant. 
 Two heads are better than one, decided Mr. Neuchamp 
 sapiently, and Granville said that this old gentleman's 
 head was an exceedingly good one, nearly, but not quite, 
 as good as his heart.
 
 II A COLONIAL REFORMER 23 
 
 Discovering with some difficulty the precise street, 
 almost a lane, where he had suddenly descried the well- 
 remembered name, he walked into this office about half- 
 past ten o'clock, and inquired for the head of the house. 
 The clerk civilly motioned him to a chair, telling him 
 that Mr. Frankston was engaged, but would not probably 
 be long, as the gentleman with him was Captain Carryall, 
 in an awful hurry to put to sea. 
 
 In rather less than five minutes the door opened 
 suddenly, emitting a loud burst of laughter, and a tall 
 sun-tanned man in a frock-coat, whose bold bright eyes 
 were dancing again with fun and covert enjoyment of an 
 apparently very keen jest. 
 
 As more than one anxious-looking person had passed 
 into the outer office, Ernest walked in, and found himself 
 in the presence of a stoutish old gentleman, with a high- 
 coloured, clean-shaved countenance, who was chuckling 
 with great relish, and subsiding from an exhausting fit of 
 merriment. His white waistcoat predominated much 
 over his clothing generally, giving that colour, with the 
 aid of a spotless domain of shirt-collar and shirt-front, an 
 unfair advantage over his sad-coloured suit of gray 
 tweed. 
 
 ' Good-morning to you, sir, — won't you take a chair,' 
 said the old gentleman with much civility. ' Very rude 
 to be laughing in the face of a visitor. But that Captain 
 Carryall told me the best story I've heard for ages. 
 Picked it up at the islands last cruise. Awful fellow ! 
 You'd excuse me, I'm sure, if you knew him. How can 
 I be of use to you, my dear sir ? ' 
 
 This last query belonged evidently to another region 
 than the one into which the sea-captain, w4th his cmur-de- 
 lion face, had allured him. So Ernest produced his card,
 
 2-i A COLOXIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 and a note ' from their mutual friend, Mr. Granville, he 
 believed.' The old merchant glanced at the signature, 
 and without another look hurled himself out of his arm- 
 chair, and seizing Mr. ISTeuchamp's hand, wrung it with 
 affectionate earnestness. 
 
 ' My dear sir — my dear fellow,' gasped he ; ' I'd have 
 given a hundred pounds if our friend could have been 
 here, and heard that yarn of Charley Carryall's. Now, 
 attend to me while I tell you what you've got to do. 
 You'll have enough to amuse yourself till five o'clock, 
 and then you're to come here with your trunk. The 
 carriage will call punctually at that hour, and you're 
 to come out with me to my little place, on the South 
 Head Eoad, and confer upon me the very great obligation 
 of staying with me till you go up the country — if you do 
 go. Now, isn't that settled ? ' 
 
 ' I am very sorry,' stammered Ernest ; 'it is so ex- 
 tremely kind of you ; but I have more than half pro- 
 mised to go up the country to-morrow to look at a station 
 with a view to buying it.' 
 
 'And get sold yourself,' interjected Mr. Frankston. 
 ' Not just yet, if you'll be my boy for a year or two. 
 Whose desirable property is it ?' 
 
 ' It belongs to a Mr. Selmore, whom I met at the 
 Eoyal Hotel,' answered Ernest, ' who was very kind, and 
 gave me some very good advice.' 
 
 ' Ha ! ha ! ha !' shouted the old boy, becoming very 
 purple in the face ; ' knew it was him — Gammon Downs, 
 eh ! Wonderful man, take in his own father if he 
 was hard up, and suffer his venerable grandsire and 
 maiden aunts to invest their last penny in a sour grass 
 country, with fluky sheep, Cumberland and scab 
 given in. Hanged if he wouldn't, and go to church
 
 II A COLONIAL REFORMER 25 
 
 immediately afterwards. Most remarkable man, Hartley 
 Selmore !' 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp wondered how Mr. Frankston knew the 
 name of Mr. Selmore's valuable estate, and how he had 
 ever made any money, if he did nothing but laugh. In- 
 deed, it seemed to be his chief occupation in life, judging 
 from his conduct since they had met. 
 
 'Then you would not advise me to invest just at 
 present ? ' inquired he. 
 
 ' Not unless you wish to be in the possession of a 
 small, very small amount of experience, and not one 
 solitary copper at the end of twelve months,' said Mr. 
 Frankston, with great decision. ' This is a bad time to 
 buy, stock are falling. Don't begin at all till you see 
 your way. If you meet Selmore tell him you've changed 
 your mind for the present, and will write and let him 
 know when it is convenient for you to inspect Ganmion 
 Downs. Five, sharp ! old man ;' and with a paternal 
 glance in his quick twinkling eye, Mr. Frankston made 
 an affirmative nod to his chief clerk, who then and there 
 entered, and a farewell one to Ernest, wdio after he left 
 the portals stood for a moment like a man in a dream. 
 
 'This is certainly a most remarkable country,' he 
 soliloquised ; ' with their outward resemblance to English- 
 men, there must be some stranc^e mental diverojence not 
 easily fathomed. I remember Granville telling me that 
 this old buffer was a better father to him than his own 
 had ever been, or some such strong expression ; therefore 
 I will at once decide to act upon his advice ; Selmore and 
 his winning way, notwithstanding. One must take up a 
 position firmly or not at all. So I shall elect to stand or 
 fall by this apoplectic old white-waistcoated guardian 
 angel, as he proposes to be.'
 
 26 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 ' My dear Neucbamp/ said a cheery voice, while a 
 cheery hand smote him familiarly on the back, ' you look 
 absorbed in contemplation. This is the wrong country 
 for that. Action, sir, action is the word in Australia. 
 Now, do you know what I was doing when I ran against 
 you ? — actually going down to Bliss's livery stables to see 
 if I could pick you out a decent hack. Burstall and 
 Scouter are going to start early to-morrow, and of course 
 you'll want a hack that won't frighten you after coming 
 from the old country. With luck you'll be under the 
 verandah at Gammon Downs on the afternoon of the 
 fourth day.' 
 
 Ernest braced himself together, and fixing his eyes 
 upon the somewhat shifting orbs of his agreeable friend, 
 said with studied calmness — 
 
 ' I shall be extremely sorry, my dear sir, to put you or 
 your friends to any inconvenience on my account, but I 
 have changed my mind, and do not think of leaving 
 Sydney for a month or two.' 
 
 He was conscious of a stern, half-angry, searching 
 gaze, which seemed to drag out of his countenance every 
 word of the conversation with Mr. Frankston, before Mr. 
 Selmore said grandly, ' I am sorry to hear that you have 
 so suddenly altered your plans. I had written to the 
 overseer at Gammon Downs to have everything in readi- 
 ness to receive you, and Burstall and Scouter will, I know, 
 be put out at losing the pleasure of your company. But 
 of course if you have made other arrangements — only I 
 am afraid that if you don't feel disposed to name a day 
 for visiting Gammon Downs I may possibly dispose of it 
 privately, and as the subject has cropped up (not at my 
 initiation, you are aware), I do honestly think that no 
 place in the country would have suited you half as well.'
 
 ir A COLOXIAL REFORMER 27 
 
 Ernest felt sorely tempted to say that in a fortnight or 
 three weeks he would be able to go up, but he remem- 
 bered Mr. Frankston's suggestion, and rather coldly 
 answered that he would write and inform Mr. Selmore 
 when it would be convenient for him to inspect Gammon 
 Downs. The inevitable smile, which was worn in all 
 weathers upon the face of Hartley Selmore, had so little 
 real sincerity about it after this statement, that when he 
 had received a warm parting grasp, Ernest felt strongly 
 convinced that he had fitted the right arrow to the string.
 
 CHAPTEE III 
 
 In one respect at least it cannot be denied that the new 
 country differs widely from the old. Events of important 
 and fateful nature succeed each other with a rapidity so 
 great as to affect the actor with a sensation of unreality. 
 He soon learns, however, that this high-pressure trans- 
 action of life involves issues none the less exacting of 
 consequences. He recognises the necessity of watchful- 
 ness, of prompt decision, ■ and abandons himself to the 
 accelerated rate of speed with a degree of confidence 
 which he cannot help suspecting to be recklessness in 
 disguise. It may be that ideas akin to this view of the 
 subject passed through Mr. Neuchamp's reflective mind 
 while waiting for the appointed time at which he was to 
 meet Mr. Frankston at his office. But a few hours since 
 he had been on the verge of a headlong and what now 
 appeared to him a dangerous investment, in which his 
 whole capital might have been swamped, and his plans 
 for social and colonial regeneration delayed for years, if 
 not wholly frustrated. Now, with an equally violent 
 oscillation, he had abandoned one recent friend, and 
 adopted another equally unknown ; to-morrow he might 
 be embarked upon another project with equal risk of 
 proximity to a colonial whirlpool capable of swallowing
 
 CHAP. Ill A COLOXIAL REFORMER 29 
 
 an argosy. What was he to do in this frightful proces- 
 sion, where fortune and ruin followed each other upon the 
 path of life like express trains ? 
 
 Was there such a thing as prudence, hesitation, or 
 delay in Australian business matters ? He would not be 
 so credulous again. Was this cheerful old merchant, 
 whose speech was kindness, and whose eye was truth 
 apparently, to be unreservedly trusted ? He would hear 
 what his counsel was like meanwhile ; he knew his friend 
 Granville to be clear-sighted and direct. He fully trusted 
 him, and had good reason to do so. Yes — he would put 
 his fortune on this die. Vogue la gaUre I 
 
 He had consulted his watch more than once before 
 the hansom deposited him with a portmanteau at the 
 office of Paul Frankston and Co., at two minutes past five 
 o'clock. Just afterwards, a well - appointed carriage, 
 drawn by a well-matched pair of bays, drove rapidly up 
 to the door. As he was approvingly regarding the well- 
 bred horses, he did not observe that a young lady inside 
 was essaying to open the door of the carriage. Ernest, 
 shocked at his unchivalrous conduct, rushed to the door, 
 wrenched it open, and with a slight but deferential bow 
 assisted her to alight. She walked at once into the 
 office, followed by Mr. Neuchamp. 
 
 * I have been to Shaddock's, papa, for some books, 
 and I thought I was late,' she said, throwing her arms 
 round the old man's neck, unconscious that Ernest was 
 immediately behind. 
 
 ' You're generally punctual, puss, and so I won't scold 
 her, Mr. Xeuchamp,' said the old boy with his customary 
 chuckle, as the young lady turned round and beheld 
 with surprise the involuntary w^itness of her tribute of 
 affection. ' Mr. Xeuchamp, my daughter Antonia. My
 
 30 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 dear, this gentleman is coming to stay with us for a few 
 months — for a year or two — all his life, perhaps, so the 
 sooner you get acquainted the better/ 
 
 Then the young lady smiled, and hoped that Mr. 
 Neuchamp would find their house pleasant, and become 
 accustomed in time to papa's jokes. 
 
 ' I can tell you it's no joke at all, miss. You know 
 very well that if Mr. Granville would have had you, I 
 should have ordered you to marry him forthwith. Now, 
 Mr. Neuchamp is a great friend of his, and all we can 
 do for him will be too little.' 
 
 ' Mr. Granville was the nicest man I ever met,' affirmed 
 the young lady. 'As for marrying, that is another 
 matter. I daresay Mr. Neuchamp is coming to a proper 
 understanding about you assertions, papa. How do you 
 like the view, Mr. Neuchamp ? ' 
 
 As she spoke she leaned partly out of the carriage 
 and gazed seawards. They were now driving upon a 
 rather narrow and winding road, smoothly gravelled and 
 well kept, much like a country lane in England. On 
 the southern side the hill rose abruptly above them ; on 
 the lower side a dwarf wall of sandstone blocks occasion- 
 ally protected the traveller from a too precipitous descent. 
 Shrubs and flowers, as strange to Mr. Neuchamp as the 
 flora of the far-famed bay, but a mile or two from them 
 now, was to Sir Joseph Banks, bordered the road on 
 either side in rich profusion. But the eye roamed over 
 the intervening valley, over villas of trim beauty, clean- 
 cut in the delicately pale sandstone, to the wondrous 
 beauty of the landlocked sea. Blue as the ^gean, it 
 was superior in its astonishing wealth of bays, mimic 
 quays, and peerless anchorage to any harbour in the 
 world. Crafts of all kinds and sizes floated upon its
 
 Til A COLONIAL REFORMER 31 
 
 unruffled wave, from the majestic ocean steamer, gliding 
 proudly to her anchorage, to the white-winged, over-rigged 
 sailing boat, with her crew of lads seated desperately on 
 her windward gunnel, to squatter out like a brood of 
 wild ducks and right their crank craft, should fortune 
 and the breeze desert them. Northward rose the ' sullen 
 shape' of the great sandstone promontory, the North 
 Head, towering over the surges that break endlessly at 
 its base, and with its twin sentinel of the south, guarding 
 the narrow entrance to the unrivalled haven. The fresh 
 breeze swept through the girl's hair and tinged her cheek 
 with a transient glow, as she said, ' Is not that lovely ? 
 I have seen it almost daily for years, but it never palls 
 on me.' 
 
 ' Beautiful as a dream landscape,' said Ernest from 
 his heart. ' It makes one recall dear old Sir Walter's 
 words — 
 
 ' "Where's the coward that would not dare 
 To fight for such a land ? " ' 
 
 ' We are a peaceful people so far,' said Mr. Frankston ; 
 ' but I fancy that we should take to war kindly enough 
 in the ev^ent of invasion, for instance, and hammer away 
 as briskly and as doggedly as our forefathers.' 
 
 ' How many years have you been in this colony, may 
 I ask ? ' said Ernest. ' Not long enough to shake off 
 British feelings and prejudices, I am certain.' 
 
 ' About ten years,' deposed Mr. Frankston confidently. 
 
 ' Oh, papa ! ' said Miss Antonia. 
 
 ' Well ! ' said the old gentleman, looking roguishly at 
 her, ' I may have been here a leetle longer ; but I am 
 witliin the strict limits of truth in stating I have been 
 here for ten years — there is no doubt about that.'
 
 32 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 Thus chatting, they had arrived at a pair of iron gates, 
 through which entering, they turned into the smoothest 
 of gravel roads, which was obviously watered daily. 
 
 The grounds through which the upstanding bay horses 
 bore tliem over the superb gravel, were extensive, but in 
 perfect order. Many of the trees, chiefly of semi-tropical 
 habit, were of great age, and their broad glossy leaves, 
 faintly stirred by the sea-breeze, had a murmuring sound, 
 which told the heart of an imaginative listener tales of a 
 calm enchanted main of coral reefs, of palm-fringed, milk- 
 white strands, and all the wonders of the charmed Isles 
 of the Great South Sea. 
 
 They drew up at the door of a large old-fashioned 
 mansion, built of pale sandstone and surmounted by an 
 extremely broad paved verandah, looking like a section 
 of an ice-house. 
 
 ' Mr. Neuchamp ! ' said the old gentleman, ' this is 
 your home as long as you are in Australia. I hope you 
 like the look of it. It's exactly twelve minutes to dinner- 
 time ; so I recommend both of you to waste no time in 
 dressing. James!' 
 
 A serious-looking man-servant advanced, and taking 
 Ernest's portmanteau inducted him into a fascinating 
 bedroom, with such a view of the sea that he was nearly 
 led into forgetting the old gentleman's paternal admoni- 
 tion, and being late for dinner. 
 
 However, by putting on extra steam, after the import- 
 ant transaction of the tie was completed, he managed to 
 re-enter the hall just as Mr. Frankston came skipping 
 downstairs, and was immediately entrusted with the care 
 of Miss Frankston as far as the dining-room. 
 
 The evening was warm, but the perfection of cookery, 
 combined with the quality and temperature of the wines
 
 Ill A COLONIAL REFORMER 33 
 
 to prevent any deep feeling of inconvenience. Miss 
 Frankston talked pleasantly and unaffectedly, while the 
 old gentleman neglected no opportunity of interjecting a 
 joke or telling some remarkably good story, for Mr. 
 Neuchamp's benefit, of which his daughter did not always 
 see the point. 
 
 After dinner Miss Frankston retired, with an assurance 
 from her father that they did not intend to absent them- 
 selves for more than ten minutes, after which the serious 
 butler brought in tenderly anotlier bottle of claret, and 
 departed. 
 
 ' Fill your glass, Mr. Neuchamp,' said the old man ; 
 'it won't hurt your head, nor your — any other part, I 
 guarantee, for I imported it myself, and let us talk a 
 very little business. What do you think of doing ? ' 
 
 ' My intention is fixed to purchase a landed property, 
 an estate or station, as you call them. Of course I 
 can only begin in a small way, and that was why Mr. 
 Selmore's place, Gammon Downs, seemed particularly 
 suited.' 
 
 'Gammon Downs has ruined every man but Selmore, 
 who has ever had anything to do with it. It's a sour, 
 bad little place, in which you would have lost all your 
 money in about a year, and would have had to sell, or 
 give away, the stock.' 
 
 'And did Mr. Selmore know that it was a bad invest- 
 ment, an undesirable property, when he offered it to me ? ' 
 
 ' I am sorry to say,' quotli the old gentleman, ' that 
 he did know it, perfectly well ; he knew that it has 
 ruined half a dozen men, whose names I could give you.' 
 
 ' And is he considered to be a gentleman, and a man 
 of honour, in this part of the world ? ' inquired Mr. 
 Neuchamp in tones of great surprise. 
 
 VOL. I D
 
 34 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 ' Well, he is a gentleman — that is, if good birth, good 
 manners, and a good education go to make one. But he 
 has always speculated to the verge of his capital, and 
 now, stock being rather low, he is decidedly hard up. 
 But he is a wonderfully sharp hand, and he generally 
 contrives to get hold of a " black hat " at least once a 
 year, which has pulled him through so far.' 
 
 ' A black hat ? ' demanded Ernest ; ' and why not ? — 
 they seem common enough. And why should .a hat, 
 black or white, help him in any way ? ' 
 
 * You don't quite understand,' answered Mr. Frankston, 
 with a twinkle of his fun -loving gray eyes, 'though it 
 is more a bush expression than a town one, and rather 
 slangy. A " black hat " in Australian parlance means a 
 new arrival. And as people without colonial experience, 
 like yourself, for instance, cannot be expected to under- 
 stand the relative value of stock and stations, such a 
 purchaser falls an easy prey to a talented but unscrupu- 
 lous man like your friend Selmore.' 
 
 A liglit suddenly illumined the understanding of Mr. 
 Neucliamp, whose faculties, like those of enthusiasts 
 generally, were keen, if occasionally misdirected. 
 
 ' So that was what his friend Evelyn laughingly 
 alluded to when they met us yesterday. " I see you 
 have your black hat with you," he said.' 
 
 ' By Jove ! you don't say so ; did Evelyn say that ? ' 
 laughed the commercial mentor ; ' just like him ; for two 
 pins he'd have warned you not to believe a word he said. 
 Eine fellow, Evelyn ! And what did Mr. Selmore say ? ' 
 
 * He only smiled, took off his own hat — an ordinary 
 ''■ Lincoln and Bennett " — stroked it, and put it on his 
 head again.' 
 
 * Capital, capital ! lord ! that was Selmore all
 
 Ill A COLONIAL REFORMER 35 
 
 over. You can't easily match him. He has the devil's 
 own readiness. Deuced clever fellow he always was ! 
 It's a pity, too, really it is. If he were not so desperately 
 cornered, I believe he's a kind-hearted fellow in the 
 main. But when he has bills to meet he'd take in his 
 own father.' 
 
 ' Thou shalt want ere I want/ as that famous free- 
 lance, Mr. Dugald Dalgetty, formerly of Marischal Col- 
 lege, 'Remarked, thought Ernest ; but he said, ' It seems 
 then that my small capital was very nearly appropriated 
 to the retirement of Mr. Selmore's bills payable, which 
 was not my primary intention in choosing a colonial 
 career. My dear sir, I shall never be sufficiently thank- 
 ful for your kind advice. What would you advise me 
 to do now, if I may trespass further on your great kind- 
 ness ? ' 
 
 ' My dear boy, as Granville's friend, I look upon you 
 as my son temporarily ; and if I had a son who had just 
 completed his education and wished to purchase station 
 property, I should say to him, this is a country and 
 stock-farming is a profession not to be understood all at 
 once. Before investing your money spend a little time 
 in learning the ways of the people of the country and 
 of the management of stock before you invest a shilling.' 
 
 ' And how long do you think a man of reasonable 
 intelligence ought to be in gaining the requisite know- 
 ledge ? ' asked Ernest, rather dismayed at the prospect of 
 a lengthened term of apprenticeship. 
 
 ' Not a day less than two years,' answered Mr. Frank- 
 ston decisively. 'My advice to you is to travel for a 
 month or two through the interior, and then to locate 
 yourself on some station where you can acquire the 
 details of practical management.'
 
 36 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 ' But will not that be expensive, and what could I do 
 with my money in the meantime ? ' 
 
 ' It will not be expensive ; and as to your money, 
 you can lodge it in a bank, where you will receive 
 interest at current rates. You can select any of our 
 Sydney banks, which are quite as safe as the Bank of 
 England. I shall then be happy to give you introduc- 
 tions which will secure you a home and the means of 
 acquiring the necessary knowledge.' 
 
 ' Thanks, a thousand thanks,' quoth Ernest, much 
 relieved ; ' at any rate I shall feel safe. I shall gladly 
 take your advice ; and the sooner I am off the better.' 
 
 ' Better stay a month with me,' urged the kind- 
 hearted old boy ; ' there is plenty of time for you to 
 learn all about stock, and how to distinguish between 
 Gammon Downs and a run that, if it doesn't make a 
 fortune all at once, will not ruin you under five years 
 at any rate.' 
 
 But the man to whom he spoke had not crossed ten 
 thousand miles of ocean, torn up old associations, and 
 severed himself from the inherited life of an English 
 country gentleman, to linger by the wayside. So he 
 made answer — 
 
 ' My dear sir, I feel that if I have left many good 
 friends behind I have found one as kind and more 
 effectual in help and counsel. But my purpose is fixed. 
 I cannot rest without I feel that I am on my way to its 
 fulfilment. With your permission I must leave town 
 next week at farthest.' 
 
 ' Well, well — I am not sure but that you are wise. 
 Sydney is an easy place to spend money in, and there is 
 nothing like buckling to when there is work to be done. 
 I must see and pick you up a horse.'
 
 Ill A COLONIAL REFORMER 37 
 
 * Do you know/ said Mr. Neuchamp, with an air of 
 slight diffidence, 'that I much prefer to walk; I shall 
 see more of the country and be less hampered, I imagine, 
 on foot.' 
 
 ' Walk ! ivalk ! ' repeated Mr. Frankston, rather taken 
 aback ; ' don't think of it.' 
 
 ' Why not, may I ask ? ' 
 
 ' Because in this country no one walks. It is too 
 hot for that sort of thing, and it is not exactly the thing 
 for a gentleman.' 
 
 ' But,' pleaded Ernest, ' I am a tolerable pedestrian ; 
 many a pleasant walking tour I have had in England, 
 and indeed on the Continent. Is there any danger ? ' 
 
 ' None, that I am aware of — but I would certainly 
 advise you to get a horse, or a couple ; they are cheap 
 enough here.' 
 
 ' You won't be offended if I say that I really prefer 
 walking. It is a capital thing in many ways ; and I 
 shall not get a chance of seeing Australian life without 
 conventional spectacles so easily again perhaps.' 
 
 ' Please yourself, then,' said Mr. Erankston ; ' I am 
 very much in favour of letting people alone, particularly 
 in unimportant matters ; you will find out for yourself, I 
 daresay, why I advised you to commence your journey on 
 the outside of a good horse. You won't take any more 
 wine ? Then we'll go and get a cup of coffee from 
 Antonia.' 
 
 They found that young lady ensconced in a large 
 cane chair upon the balcony in front of the draw- 
 ing-room, gazing dreamily over the dark glimmering 
 waters. 
 
 ' You will find coffee on that round table, Mr. 
 Neuchamp ; and you, papa, will find your cigar-case on
 
 38 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 that ledge. Mr. Neuchamp, if you like to smoke, pray 
 do so ; I have no dislike to it in the open air.' 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp did not smoke. He held it to be 
 a waste of time, of money, of brain-power ; leading like- 
 wise to a false content with circumstances, with which 
 the true man should wage ceaseless warfare. So he 
 brought his chair near to that of Miss Frankston, and as 
 the old gentleman lighted his cigar and leaned back in 
 much comfort at some distance, he felt fully disposed for 
 a little aesthetic talk. 
 
 ' What a glorious night,' he remarked, ' with this faint 
 fresh sea-breeze! how grand the effect of the darkly 
 bright water, the burning stars, and this superb cloudless 
 heaven ! ' 
 
 ' It is so indescribably glorious,' made answer Miss 
 Frankston, ' that I feel incensed with myself for not 
 delighting in it more freshly and intensely. But it is 
 thus with all familiar marvels that one has seen all one's 
 life.' 
 
 ' All one's life ? ' repeated he. 
 
 ' I was born in this house,' said she simply, ' and 
 have sat on a chair like this, and gazed on the sea, as 
 we are doing now, when I was a small lonely child.' 
 
 ' Oh ! dreamy and luxurious southerner,' laughed he. 
 ' A life of lotus-eating ! Has it affected the tenor of 
 your mind with any indisposition to exertion or change ? ' 
 
 ' As far as I can pretend to know, it has had the 
 reverse tendency in my case. I have always had a 
 passionate desire to travel. I am my father's own 
 daughter in that respect, he says.' 
 
 ' And where has Mr. Frankston chiefly been ? ' 
 
 ' Where has he not been ? When he was young he 
 managed to get away to sea, and roamed about the world
 
 Ill A COLONIAL REFORMER 39 
 
 splendidly ; he has been to New Zealand, of course ; all 
 over the South Sea Islands ; besides having travelled to 
 England and the Contment, the East and West Indies, 
 Eussia, America, China, and Japan.' 
 
 ' You quite take my breath away. Your papa is a 
 perfect Marco Polo. But why should he have gone to 
 England ? ' 
 
 ' In order to see it, of course. Every Australian with 
 sufficient brains to comprehend that there are more streets 
 in the world than George Street would like to do that.' 
 
 ' And was Mr. Erankston born in Australia ? I 
 thought he told me that he had been ten years here.' 
 
 'So he has been, and fifty more. He did not say 
 only ten years. He likes to joke about being taken for 
 an Englishman, and says it is because he has a red face 
 and a white waistcoat.' 
 
 ' Well, I do not see the resemblance on those grounds,' 
 made answer Mr. Neuchamp guardedly. ' But really, 
 your papa is so exactly like an old gentleman of my 
 acquaintance, who is a very Briton of Britons, that I 
 took it for granted that he must be English.' 
 
 * So he is English, and so am I Euglish ; only we 
 were not born in that small great country. But you 
 must think that there ought to be some distinguishing 
 manner, or accent, about Australians, or you would not 
 exhibit surprise at the resemblance.' 
 
 ' If I ever had such an absurd idea, I am now entirely 
 disabused of it,' said Mr. Neuchamp gallantly ; ' and I 
 must hope that in a short time to come I may be taken 
 for an Australian, of which at present there is not 
 apparently the least prospect.' 
 
 ' Indeed, there is not,' replied Miss Erankston ; ' pray 
 excuse my smiling at the idea.'
 
 40 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 ' But why should I be so advertised, apparently by 
 my whole personal effect upon society, that the waiters 
 at the hotel are as aware of the fact, the cabmen, the 
 persons whom I pass in the street, as if I had " passenger's 
 luggage " marked on my shirt-front ? It is not entirely 
 my complexion, for I see blonde people in every direc- 
 tion ; nor my clothes, nor my speech, I hope.' 
 
 ' I do not know, indeed. I cannot say. There must 
 be some difference, or people would not notice it. But 
 you must not imagine that because you are known to 
 have just come from home that anything short of a 
 compliment is intended. Indeed,' said the girl with 
 some diffidence, 'it's quite the other way.' 
 
 ' I am delighted to hear you say so,' returned Mr. 
 Neuchamp, ' and it will comfort Wilhelm Meister during 
 his " Wanderjahre." ' 
 
 ' Kennst du das Land ? ' 
 
 sang she. ' Are you fond of music, Mr. Neuchamp ? for 
 I think I shall go in and give papa his nightly allow- 
 ance of harmony. He refuses always to go to bed until 
 I have sung to him. You had better keep him com- 
 pany.' 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp did so, the air of the balcony and the 
 sight of the wondrous Southern Cross being as yet more 
 attractive than the lady of the castle and her song. 
 
 ' That's right,' said the old gentleman, lighting another 
 cigar and composing himself to listen. ' Pity you don't 
 smoke ; it's an added pleasure, and one hasn't too many 
 in this world. It's a luxury that lasts — one of the few 
 things you can do as well when you're old as when you 
 are young.' 
 
 ' I must differ from you,' returned Mr. Neuchamp.
 
 Ill A COLONIAL REFORMER 41 
 
 'I think it often leads to the wasting of vakiable time, 
 but I bow to your greater experience.' 
 
 ' And greater age ; and you are right to be on the 
 self-denying side for the present. But ask yourself what 
 an old buffer like myself can do with his evenings more 
 profitably. My eyes — not so good as they were thirty 
 years since — have generally had a fair day's work before 
 dinner-time. Cards, talk, and a moderate smoke make 
 up an old man's evening. When I look at the sea here 
 — and she always w^as a good friend to me — hear 
 Antonia sing and play — bless her heart ! and smoke a 
 very good cigar, it is rather a cunningly mixed enjoy- 
 ment, you must own. Now she's off ! ' 
 
 The last statement was made simultaneously with the 
 first notes of a song wdiich floated out through the opened 
 French windows, and proved to Mr. Neuchamp — a fair 
 connoisseur — that his hostess had a fresh, true, soprano 
 voice, and rather unusual execution. As he sat listening 
 to song after song which Miss Frankston bestowed upon 
 them with an utter absence of apologetic affectation, as 
 the stars burned more brightly in the cloudless southern 
 sky, as the w^avelets kept their rhythmical murmurous 
 monotone, he involuntarily asked himself if he had left 
 all the social luxuries in the other hemisphere. 
 
 'This is pleasant,' said the merchant, after a long 
 silence of words, with something between a sigh and a 
 shake ; ' but there are such things as breakfast and 
 business for to-morrow. We must end the concert. 
 Make for that small table in the corner.' 
 
 Upon the piece of furniture referred to there stood 
 a silver-encrusted inviting spirit-stand, with a bottle of 
 iced Marco-briinner. 
 
 ' You must allow me to thank you for your songs.
 
 42 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap, hi 
 
 Miss Franks ton,' said Ernest ; ' whether the surroundings 
 completed the witchery I cannot tell, but I have rarely 
 enjoyed music so much.' 
 
 ' I am glad you like my singing/ said she simply ; 
 ' we see so few people that I am not always sure whether 
 my old music -master and myself extract the correct 
 expression in much of our practice.' 
 
 ' I can assure you of the correctness of your render- 
 ing,' promptly assented the stranger-critic. ' I heard the 
 last song you were good enough to favour us with sung 
 the week before I left. It had just been published. 
 And I certainly prefer a slight emendation, which I 
 think you have made.' 
 
 ' Most satisfactory ! ' said she, with a mock inclina- 
 tion of respect ; ' and now good-night. Papa and break- 
 fast wait for no man.'
 
 CHAPTEE IV 
 
 Few things are pleasanter, in their way, than staying in 
 an agreeable house, while the welcome, the local recrea- 
 tions, the allotted leisure, are alike in the fresh bloom of 
 unexhausted enjoyment. Your justifiable curiosity as to 
 your friends' intellects, experiences, and power of amusing 
 you is for a while unsatiated. All is new and delightful ; 
 to be savoured with the full approval of conscience. The 
 gardens are enchanted, the ladye peerless fair, the 
 stranger knights courteous, the host an incarnation of 
 appreciation and generosity. All this glamour lasts un- 
 diminished for the first fleeting week or two, possibly 
 survives the month. Then the process of disenchant- 
 ment commences. Either you have business external 
 to the castle, or you have not. In the former case, you 
 begin to feel darkly fearful of neglect, and conscience, if 
 you keep one, self-interest if you do not, commences to be 
 ' faithful,' even to inconvenience. If you own no care, or 
 tie, or duty, which may not be postponed to the ' Cyn- 
 thias of the minute,' and still prolong your stay, you cease 
 to be a guest and fall into the more prosaic role of 
 habitue, inmate, lodger, amenable to family rules and to 
 criticism. Then the fair ladye, if she be the sole cause 
 of detention, is at times sharply scanned, lest the pro-
 
 44 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 verbial chandelier bear hard on the value of the enter- 
 tainment. On the whole, a state of perpetual arrival at 
 the mansions of favourably prejudiced strangers, combined 
 with comparatively early departure, — unerringly antici- 
 pating the first shade of social satiety, — would probably 
 comprise most of the pleasurable sensations permissible 
 in this imperfect existence. 
 
 Mr. JSTeuchamp had, from the first, no thought of 
 trenching upon even the border of this ' debatable land ' ; 
 for after a very short trial of this pleasant life he told 
 Miss Frankston that if he stayed for twelve months, he 
 should still find new objects of interest. He thereupon 
 completed the painful process known as ' making up 
 one's mind,' and arranged to leave for the interior on the 
 following day. Not that he was peculiarly sensible to 
 any state of uncertainty. His enthusiastic temperament 
 saved him from indecision. Havino^, with what he believed 
 to be sufficient care and circumspection, elaborated a plan, 
 he was uneasy and incapable of enjoyment until an 
 advance in line was made. His, the fervid temperament, 
 which delights itself w4th intensifying the action of all 
 warfare, declared against circumstance, ever the foe of 
 generous youth and ardent manhood. 
 
 So impatient was Mr. Neuchamp to hear the first 
 shot of his campaign fired, that he had the stern virtue 
 to refuse to remain another week for a certain picnic, at 
 which all the notabilities of the metropolis were to be 
 present, and at which the purest form of social pleasure 
 might be anticipated. 
 
 ' My dear Miss Frankston,' replied he, when urged 
 upon this subject by Antonia, ' I grieve that I cannot 
 consistently comply with your kind request. But I feel 
 myself so rapidly turning into a mere town lounger, that
 
 IV A COLOXIAL REFORMER 45 
 
 I am sure another week or two would complete the 
 transformation, and my moral ruin. For besides, un- 
 fortunately' — here he smiled at his expressed regret — 
 'I fixed to-morrow for my departure from your most 
 pleasant and hospitable home, and I never alter my plans.' 
 
 ' I should be very sorry to wish you to alter them for 
 our sake,' said the girl, unable, however, to suppress a 
 slight tone of pique. 'No doubt you will be much 
 happier exploring the highway across the Blue Mountains, 
 which, of course, will be a great novelty to you. But I 
 should not have thought a few days would have made 
 any difference. You will find it dull enough at Gar- 
 randilla, where you are going.' 
 
 * Didl 1 ' said he, ' dull ! in the heart of a new 
 continent, a new world, with untold stores of new plants, 
 new companions, new experiences, the outset of a new 
 life. My dear Miss Antonia, how can it be dull to any 
 person of ordinary intelligence ? ' 
 
 'Well,' answered she, smiling, 'perhaps it is I who 
 am dull for thinking so. Most young men who have 
 left our house for the interior have been of that opinion. 
 But I will not attempt to cloud your anticipations. Only, 
 I really do think you ought not to walk.' 
 
 ' Why not ? What possible difference can it make 
 how I get over the twenty or thirty miles a day before I 
 reach tlie station, to which your father has so kindly 
 given me letters of introduction ? Such jolly walking 
 tours as I have had in England and Wales, in Ireland, 
 and one lovely vacation tour in our old home, Normandy.' 
 
 ' What a charming thing to be able to see the place 
 where one's ancestors lived a thousand years ago ! ' said 
 she eagerly. (Mr. Neuchamp, having let slip the ad- 
 mission of the early settlement of his family in that
 
 46 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 rather stirring Norse colony, had been cross-questioned 
 upon the subject.) ' How you must have enjoyed it ! 
 That's the worst of Australia — there's nothing a hundred 
 .years old in it, except a red-gum tree. But seriously, 
 you may find yourself exposed to inconveniences by 
 walking, like a labouring man. It is not the fashion in 
 our country for gentlemen to walk.' 
 
 Miss Antonia had entirely settled the matter by the 
 last observation. Fashion had been through life one of 
 the deadliest enemies to the peace of Ernest Neuchamp. 
 In his own country he had alarmed his relatives and 
 scandalised his neighbours by his wild defiance of that 
 successor of Thor and Odin, as he profanely termed the 
 social belief of decorous Christians. Was he to bow^ the 
 knee to this false god in a strange land, which at least he 
 hoped to be pure from the idolatries of the effete civili- 
 sation from which he had fled ? Not so, by St. Newbold ! 
 the patron saint of his house. He smiled with great 
 gentleness as he answered, with half sad but most irre- 
 vocable decision — 
 
 * My dear Miss Frankston, I did not become a colonist 
 with any idea of being trammelled by usages or customs. 
 You will pardon me, I am sure, if I retain my first intention.' 
 
 ' Most certainly,' said she. ' I shouldn't wonder if 
 you had a friend or two in England who called you 
 obstinate. But you will tell me some day how you got 
 on, and whether there was any small portion of reason in 
 the advice given you.' 
 
 ' I shall for ever feel grateful,' he said warmly, ' for 
 the intention of the advice, and for the great kindness 
 which has accompanied it. Whether or not I succeed in 
 Australia, I shall always have one pleasant remembrance 
 to look back upon.'
 
 IV A COLOXIAL KEFORMER 47 
 
 ' My father, and I also, will be glad if you feel thus,' 
 she said, with the ordinary calm kindness of her tone ; 
 ' and now, I must go to town. You leave to-morrow ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; I am sorry, in one way, to say so.' 
 
 * Then papa will be able to give you his final counsels 
 to-night. I know he wishes to have some last words 
 with you.' 
 
 Dinner over and the night being fine, as usual, an 
 adjournment to the sea-balcony was carried unanimously. 
 When the first cigar was half through, Mr. Frankston 
 thus addressed his guest — 
 
 ' So you are ofi' to-morrow, Antonia tells me, and can't 
 be persuaded to wait for the grand picnic. I don't say 
 you're wrong. AVhen the ship's ready and the wind's 
 fair, it's better to wait for no repairs. You're going to 
 walk, too. It's a long way ; but you're young and strong, 
 and you'll find out all I can tell you for yourself ; if you 
 don't, all the telling in the world won't help you. Now, 
 see here, we'll arrange everything for the first twelve 
 months, or two years, if you don't care to change.' 
 
 ' You're most kind and generous, my dear sir, and I 
 don't know what I should have done without you,' said 
 Ernest. 
 
 * Thank you,' said ]\Ir. Frankston ; ' we'll see about that 
 in about five or six years, if we all live so long — we can't 
 tell just yet. I may be persuading you not to buy in with 
 a rising market, which would double your money in three 
 years, or I may be savin.u^ you from losing all but what you 
 stand upright in in about the same time. I think it's 
 the last, but we can't tell. This is an uncertain country, 
 particularly about rain. And rain means fat stock, cheap 
 money, and general prosperity.' 
 
 ' But can't one provide against the want of rain ? ' in-
 
 48 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 quired Mr. Neucliamp, who was prone to array himself 
 against Providence, holding that all things might be met 
 or conquered by energy and foresight. ' Irrigation, for 
 instance.' 
 
 ' There is no provision that can be made,' said the man 
 of experience, ' except on a small scale, and irrigation 
 means labour ; and paying for labour in Australia, except 
 to a very limited extent, means ruin. A great drought is 
 like a heavy gale at sea ; you may be saved, or you may 
 go down with all hands. One visitation is as easy to stop 
 or to calculate about as the other.' 
 
 ' And is it a drousjht now ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; and one of the worst ever known.' 
 
 ' Then what will happen ? ' 
 
 ' Stock,' said the old man, ' will keep on falling in 
 price. Many stockholders will be ruined, including 
 Selmore, if he does not clear out Gammon Downs to a ' 
 
 ' A black hat,' laughed Ernest. ' I shall remember 
 that joke. It came near, as our American fellow-passenger 
 would say, costing me five thousand pounds.' 
 
 ' But they won't be all ruined,' continued ]\ir. Frank- 
 ston ; ' and what I strongly advise you to do is this — 
 you've left your money, for a year certain, in the Bank 
 of New Holland, for which you'll get tidy interest, and 
 it's as safe as the Bank of England — you go, where I give 
 you this letter of introduction, to Forrester, who is a good 
 fellow and knows me, and it's a good station, Garrandilla ; 
 that's a great matter, as you will find. There you will be 
 treated like a gentleman. It will cost you nothing but 
 your clothes. There you'll learn all that can be learnt 
 about stock. In a couple of years, say (here Mr. Neu- 
 champ winced), or perhaps eighteen months, you'll be fit 
 to look after a station, and able to buy one for yourself
 
 IV A COLONIAL REFORMER 49 
 
 'Don't you think a year's experience/ pleaded Mr. 
 Neuchamp, 'might ' 
 
 ' N'o, I don't,' stoutly asserted the senior ; ' and in two 
 years it's my belief that your five thousand pounds will 
 buy as large a station as ten thousand would now.' 
 
 The following morning saw Mr. I^euchamp, who had 
 risen early and made all his arrangements, fully prepared 
 for the momentous plunge into real life. He had attired 
 himself in an old tourist's suit of rough serviceable tweed, 
 and donned a pair of thick-soled lace-up boots fitted for 
 climbing mountain sides, and the roughest pedestrian 
 work that might occur. He had filled his knapsack with 
 the requisites that a gentleman cannot dispense with, 
 even in the lightest marching order, and had adopted a 
 brown wide-awake hat, which he trusted would relieve 
 him henceforward from any injurious sobriquet. Thus 
 armed at all points, he awaited breakfast and the arrival 
 of Antonia Frankston, to whom he felt inclined to bid a 
 more heartfelt farewell than he had thought any young 
 lady in the southern hemisphere would have earned the 
 right to receive. 
 
 Let me not be understood to assume for a moment 
 that Mr. Neuchamp was wholly insensible to the tender 
 passion. But he was fully possessed and occupied for 
 the present by the ' enterprise of great pith and moment ' 
 which he contemplated. And the boy-god found the 
 tenement of his heart for the time so thoroughly filled by 
 busy, unsympathetic ideas, that he was fain to hover like 
 a bird round a populous dovecote, vainly seeking a single 
 unoccupied pigeon-hole. 
 
 ' Friendship, indeed,' Mr. Neuchamp confessed to him- 
 self, ' had sprung up of an intellectual and truly fraternal 
 nature between himself and this girl, who had br.t few 
 
 VOL. I E
 
 50 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 companions, and fewer intimates of her own age.' But 
 he told himself that it was a prosaic alliance of intelli- 
 gence, natural, and almost inevitable between two people 
 not very different in age, whose temperaments were rather 
 widely apart, but whose tastes and feelings assimilated 
 closely. Just the kind of feeling he might have had for 
 his lady cousins in England, but that they showed no re- 
 spect for his opinions and openly jeered at his aspirations. 
 
 Now Antonia Frankston paid the compliment of 
 respect to all the principles and opinions which he enun- 
 ciated, even while doing battle unyieldingly against their 
 practical application. 
 
 ' It is a great matter to be thoroughly comprehended,' 
 he had said to himself ' One may be right or one may 
 be wrong. I am the last person to deny free exercise of 
 opinion, and the healthful effect of free antagonism. But 
 I must own to a preference of being understood by my 
 critics.' 
 
 Under this stimulus he had poured forth, in the leisure 
 time which he had abundantly enjoyed with Miss Frank- 
 ston, his plans for the regeneration of society, and of 
 Australian life in particular. He had foretold the reign 
 of abstract justice, and the coming dethronement of shams. 
 He saw afar a general refinement in manners, pervading 
 culture, which was harmoniously to fuse classes, now 
 so unhappily divided; the co-operation of labour with 
 capital, and the equal partition of the public lauds. In a 
 word, all the fair visions of the higher life, the splendid 
 possibilities of the race which commend themselves to 
 ardent youth and generous manhood, in that springtime 
 of the heart when beautiful emanations are evolved in 
 multiform glory, to be chilled and withered by colder age 
 and hard experience.
 
 IV A COLONIAL REFORMER 51 
 
 To the record of these and similar aspirations, as they 
 poured forth from the enthusiastic soul of Ernest Neu- 
 champ, tinged with poetic thoughts and dignified by a 
 pure ' enthusiasm of humanity,' had Antonia listened, by 
 no means without interest. It was new to her to hear 
 projects free from the taint of selfish gain or personal ad- 
 vantage. And though she entered her protests, gently 
 but firmly, against many of his conclusions, there was to 
 him a deep interest in dialogues in which he secured so 
 patient, so fair a listener, gifted with a high and cultured 
 intelligence. 
 
 Thus Mr. Neuchamp made all necessary adieux, and 
 having received his credentials, in the shape of a letter of 
 introduction to the owner of Garrandilla, where he was 
 to abide during his novitiate, and a letter of credit in case 
 he should have unexpected need of money, departed from 
 the hospitable gates of Morahmee. 
 
 With his knapsack on his back he paced through the 
 city. Being not sufficiently philosophical, I must con- 
 fess, to avail himself of the George Street pavement, he 
 crossed Hyde Park, and turning round to take one last 
 look at the blue waters and the grand headland, it may 
 be that his eyes rested lingeringly upon the nearest point 
 which he could recognise to Morahmee. 
 
 Then he turned his back upon nature's loveliness and 
 fond regrets, and strode resolutely onward towards the 
 far untried Waste — to him the land of hope and of 
 endeavour. 
 
 Taking a somewhat diagonal course adown and across 
 the old-fashioned dingy streets, where the aged, decrepit, 
 but in some instances picturesque dwellings tell a tale of 
 the earliest colonial days, Mr. Neuchamp presently de- 
 bouched upon the great arterial thoroughfare which, before 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOLV
 
 52 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 the advent of the steam king, led to that somewhat 
 mysterious domain, vaguely designated as ' the bush.' 
 
 Here he began to put on his tourist pace, and no 
 longer trammelled by fear of the fashionable world, 
 exerted those powers of progression which had won him 
 fame in Scottish Highlands, by Killarney's fair lake, and 
 on the cols and passes which, amid eternal snow, girdle 
 the monarch of the Alps. 
 
 Mile after mile, at a rattling pace, went he, pleased 
 to find himself once more upon a highroad, though com- 
 paratively disused, as the Dover and Calais route, where 
 the great empty posting -houses tell of 'ruin,' and the 
 ' ruthless king,' which has driven coach and guard, ostler 
 and landlord, boots and barmaid, all off the road together. 
 Such had been the doom of this once inevitable and 
 crowded highway ; and Mr. ISTeuchamp noted with interest 
 the remains of a former state, long passed away. 
 
 ' Eeally ! ' soliloquised he, ' I have come upon a locality 
 adapted for antiquarian research. I did not expect that 
 in Australia. As I perceive, those old buildings are 
 massive and imposing, with walls of solidity far from 
 common. What fine trees are in the orchards ! I must 
 see what o'clock it is. This venerable mansion seems 
 inhabited ; I wonder if I could get a glass of beer ? ' 
 
 This latter outcome of the inner consciousness, not 
 particularly germane to antiquarian research, was the 
 result of a discovery by Mr. [N'euchamp that he was un- 
 commonly heated. The truth was that he had, in the 
 ardour of his feelings, been pelting along at the rate of 
 four miles and a half an hour, forgetting that the ther- 
 mometer stood at 85 in the shade; hence his complexion 
 was much heightened ; his shirt-collar limp to a degree 
 whence hope was fled for ever ; ' his brow was wet with
 
 IV A COLONIAL REFORMER 63 
 
 honest whatsyname/ while a general and unpleasant 
 saturation of his whole clothing told the tale of a tem- 
 perature unknown to his European experiences. To his 
 great contentment, the hostelry was inhabited and still 
 offered entertainment to man and that fellow-creature, 
 whose good example had the more highly organised 
 vertebrate followed what romances of crime had remained 
 unwritten ; what occupations, literary and sensational, 
 had been gone ; what reputations, even of Ouida, Miss 
 Braddon, and that ' bright particular star,' of the firmament 
 of fiction, the great George Eliot herself, had been faint 
 and prosaically mediocre ! The surviving of the past 
 favourites of the ' shouting multitude ' owed its spirituous 
 existence to the fact of a byroad from certain farms, here 
 reaching the old highway. By dint of an early start, and 
 a little night-work, the farmers and dealers were able to 
 reach and return from the metropolis within the day, thus 
 dispensing with the swift and, to provincial ideas, some- 
 what costly train. But the long hours and late and 
 early travelling necessitated beer ; hence this relic of past 
 bibulousness with ancient porch hard by a real milestone, 
 the twelfth, which our wayfarer hailed with joy, eagerly 
 scanning the deeply-graven numerals. 
 
 He found the outer room presided over by an ex- 
 cessively clean old woman, whose starched cap and 
 general get-up reminded him of a well-known Cambridge 
 landlady. Espying a pewter, he demanded a pint of ale, 
 and sitting down upon a bench, disposed of the cool 
 draught with the deep enjoyment which the pedestrian 
 or the worker alone knows. This duty completed, he 
 consulted his watch, and finding that mid -day was 
 passed, decided upon a slight refection of bread and 
 cheese, and a halt.
 
 54 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 ' So YOU still keep the house open ? ' he observed to 
 his hostess. ' I see a good many of those along the road 
 are closed.' 
 
 ' So should we 'a been closed too/ said the ancient 
 dame, ' but this road, as the fruit-carts and firewood and 
 small farming loads comes in by, keeps a little trade up, 
 and we've not a big family ; there's my husband, as is 
 out, and my son, as works in the garden, and does most 
 of the work about the place, and Carry.' 
 
 ' And you have lived here a long time, I suppose ? ' 
 
 ' Over forty years, since my husband, John Walton, 
 got a grant of land, and we came here just after we 
 married. We built the house after we'd made a bit of 
 money, and planted the orchard, and did every mortal 
 thing as is done.' 
 
 ' And you lost all the traffic when the train com- 
 menced to run.' 
 
 ' All the paying business ; everything but this small 
 line as we used to despise. Father, he was for clearing 
 out, but I couldn't bear to leave the old place ; w^e'd 
 saved a bit o' money, and says I : " Well, father, suppose 
 we live on here comfortable and steady, and don't change. 
 There's Jem and Carry fit to do all the work ; we don't 
 need no servants, you can potter about the garden, and 
 the pigs and poultry, and bee-hives, and they all makes 
 a bit of money, or saves it, and we'll, maybe, do as well 
 as those that goes up into the bush, and goodness knows 
 where." But you'll have some lunch, sir — please to 
 walk this way.' 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp was forthwith inducted into an old- 
 fashioned room, the size and pretensions of which showed 
 the different style of the entertainment once supplied. 
 Leading from this were several bedrooms, to the open
 
 IV 
 
 A COLONIAL REFORMER 55 
 
 door of one of which the old dame pointed. Here, with 
 the help of a sufficiency of cold water and the cleanest 
 towels, he restored himself to a condition favourable to 
 the proper appreciation of lunch. 
 
 Wlien he returned he found the table being laid by a 
 neatly-dressed, modest-looking young woman of five or 
 six and twenty. 
 
 ' I suppose you are Carry ? ' he said, mentally com- 
 paring her with an English country girl of the same rank 
 and condition, and concluding that the damsel before 
 him did not show to any great disadvantage. 
 
 ' Mother's been telling you, sir, I suppose/ said the 
 girl, smiling ; ' she's glad to talk about old times with 
 any one, it's nearly all she has to do now.' 
 
 ' Well, we had a chat about the state of the roads,' 
 affably rejoined Mr. Neuchamp ; ' you have a very nice 
 old place here, and I think you were very wise to stay.' 
 
 ' I don't mind it,' said the girl, * though it is awfully 
 dull sometimes. I'm used to a quiet life ; but it's rather 
 hard upon Jem, my brother that is, sir, for he might have 
 bettered himself in many ways.' 
 
 ' How do you think he might ? ' 
 
 ' Why, ever so many times he's had offers of employ- 
 ment, but he won't leave the old people ; and then, he 
 might go into the bush.' 
 
 ' The bush ! and is every one who goes into the bush 
 certain to do well ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no, sir ; but every young man of spirit in the 
 colony likes to have a turn, and run his chance there 
 some time or other. Excuse me, sir, but you haven't 
 been very long out, have you ? ' 
 
 ' How the deuce does she know that ? ' inquired Mr. 
 Neuchamp of himself. 'Is there anything written on
 
 56 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 this brow, and so on ? However, I have catechised her 
 sufficiently, and cannot object to a little cross-examina- 
 tion in return.' 
 
 ' Well, Carry, the truth is that I have not been very 
 long out from home, as you very wisely have discovered ; 
 that's the reason I am a little inquisitive about your 
 country. But how did you know ? ' 
 
 ' By lots of things,' said Carry, rather mischievously ; 
 ' by your having such a fresh complexion, and so many 
 mosquito - bites, — they don't bite us natives that way; 
 and by your clothes, and your shirt- collar, and your 
 boots, and your pack, or whatever it is — and by your 
 being on foot.' 
 
 ' What a long list. Carry ! and the worst of it is, that 
 if I was asked how I should know whether you are a 
 native, as you call yourself, and not an English girl, I 
 should not have half as many things to swear by.' 
 
 ' And what would they be, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Let me see. I think you are a little paler, for one 
 thing — but that's the heat, I suppose — and rather taller 
 — and a little, only a very little slighter — and your 
 hands are smaller ; just let me look, for I can't be sure ; 
 and, on the whole, rather prettier than most English girls 
 are.' 
 
 ' Oh, nonsense ! ' interrupted Carry at this point, with 
 a not wholly displeased expression. ' I don't believe 
 half of it. I'm sure everybody says English girls have 
 such lovely complexions and figures, and cut out us poor 
 " currency lasses " altogether.' 
 
 'That's not true. Carry, my dear,' protested Mr. 
 Neuchamp with warmth. 'I can assure you that no 
 one would think to look at you that you had lived all 
 your life in a climate something like a greenhouse, with
 
 IV A COLONIAL REFORMER 57 
 
 the door shut. It can't be such a very bad one after all, 
 if it turns out such very nice specimens of ' 
 
 Here Miss Carry pretended to hear her mother call- 
 ing, and discreetly departed. 
 
 Ernest was too experienced a pedestrian to overwork 
 himself, and blister his feet the first day, thereby con- 
 verting the remaining portion of the journey into a 
 penance ; so finding himself in pleasant quarters, he 
 determined to wait till the cool of the evening, and go 
 on as far as the ancient and venerable town of Parra- 
 matta, which he was led to believe reared its double 
 spires about eight miles farther on. 
 
 After enjoying the home-baked bread, the well-cured 
 bacon, the fresh butter, and another tankard, he occupied 
 himself with observing the pictures, which in rather 
 grand gilt frames adorned the room. They smacked of 
 the good old days. There was 'The Tally-ho Coach 
 leaving the Post-office, Sydney.' A true English four- 
 insider, with a team of highly improbable grays, proceed- 
 ing at an impossible pace, from a pillared edifice with an 
 enormous clock. The celebrated racehorse ' Jorrocks,' as 
 he appeared winning his forty-fifth race, the majority of 
 the cheering crowd depicted as wearing cabbage-tree hats. 
 There was also the terrific finish at the Five Dock 
 Steeplechase between Fergus and Slasher, with a sketch 
 of the astonishing struggle, when Traveller beat Chester 
 for the Sydney Cup after the fiftli heat, on the old Sandy 
 Course. This turf triumph had occurred about forty-five 
 years since. 
 
 Much meditating upon the comparative antiquity and 
 hoary age of incidents, even in a colony, Mr. Neuchamp 
 paid his modest bill, shouldered his knapsack, and pre- 
 pared to depart from this beer fountain in the desert.
 
 58 A COLOXIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 Meeting the pleasant glance of Carry as he was passing 
 the door, he turned and said, ' I must come down to 
 Sydney next year, and I'll be sure to pay you a visit, 
 Carry.' 
 
 ' Oh, do 1 ' she said ; ' mother will be so pleased. 
 But you haven't told me your name ; how shall we hear 
 of you ? ' 
 
 ' If any one talks about Ernest ^N'euchamp to you, it 
 will be of me.' 
 
 ' Ernest is a pretty name,' said the girl, ' but " New- 
 chum ! " that is not your real name, is it ? of course you 
 are a new chum, though it would be rude to say so.' 
 
 ' And what is " a new chum," Carry ? That is not 
 my name, though the pronunciation is not so far unlike.' 
 
 ' Why, a new chum is a new arrival — a gentleman 
 that ' 
 
 ' A black hat ? ' suggested he. 
 
 ' Well, it's all the same, I believe,' she answ^ered ; ' it 
 means somebody who has just come and doesn't know 
 anything about the country.' 
 
 'And a most extraordinary country it is,' muttered 
 he.; 'it appears that it is not to be known very readily, 
 even after a short stay. Well, here is my card, Carry ; 
 you can spell it at your leisure. Good-bye, my dear, 
 and take care of yourself till I come back next year.' 
 
 ' Good-bye, sir ; be sure you stop at the " Eed Cow," 
 at Parramatta.' 
 
 This badinage over, Mr. Neuchamp pursued his 
 journey, much refreshed in body, but exercised in mind 
 by the similarity of his name to the accusation of new- 
 ness and cockneyism, so to speak, which the colonial 
 appellation conveyed. ' Most vexatious ! ' said he to 
 himself ; ' I thought I saw Antonia look warningly more
 
 IV A COLONIAL REFORMER 59 
 
 tlian once at her father, when he seemed disposed to 
 dwell on the pronunciation of my name. That must 
 have been the mot she forbade.' 
 
 The sun was low as he strolled into the quiet, old- 
 fashioned, rather hot town of Parraraatta. Here he 
 beheld, within a dozen miles of the thronged and eager 
 metropolis, a population for the most part more incurious 
 and unenterprising than if their habitation had been five 
 hundred miles inland. Every one walked or sauntered 
 down the streets with that thoroughly provincial absence 
 of hurry which is so refreshing to the wearied mental 
 labourer. 
 
 Among the lower classes, generation after generation 
 had been born and grown, and aged, since the first 
 occupation of the wonderful land, which has made sucli 
 haste to become a nation. There seemed a large popula- 
 tion of well-to-do retired capitalists, something under the 
 millionaire class, who, having built cottages and planted 
 orangeries (the export of oranges is the great trade 
 feature of the locality), felt a calm confidence that here 
 they could wear out life with less than the usual friction. 
 
 He was much surprised and pleased to observe the 
 unusually large number of oaks, elms, and ash trees 
 which had by the pious founders been planted in and 
 around the town. Many of these were of great age, 
 speaking in an Australian sense, and had grown to be 
 ornamental and dignified of aspect, besides being useful 
 in point of shade. 
 
 As he walked slowly down the principal street he 
 was pleased to see wide stretches of grass, a river, gar- 
 dens, and a considerable exemption from the brick-and- 
 mortar tyranny of latter days. The air was becoming 
 pleasantly cool; a certain amount of loitering and mus-
 
 60 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap, iv 
 
 ing, dear to Mr. Neuchamp's artistic mind, was observable. 
 A few schoolboys passed, one pair with arms round one 
 another's neck, sworn friends and tellers evidently of 
 some mutually thrilling tale. The cabs were delightfully 
 old-fashioned. The very air had a Eip Van Winkle 
 flavour about it, so utterly foreign to the genius of a new 
 country, that Mr. Neuchamp lamented to himself, as he 
 captured a barefooted urchin and ordered him to show 
 him to the Eed Cow Inn, that he could not prolong his 
 stay.
 
 CHAPTEE V 
 
 He commenced his next day's journey at an early hour, 
 in full vigour of mind and body and in charity with all 
 men. He had fed and rested with keen relish, and all 
 slight fatigue consequent on unaccustomed exercise 
 had disappeared. The morning air was fresh and cool. 
 The indescribable charm of the unworn day rested upon 
 the rural landscape, where farmhouses, maize fields, 
 orangeries, and orchards alternated with primeval wood- 
 lands and wide -stretching pastures. The houses were 
 often old, the farming indifferent, the fences decayed ; 
 but with all faults it was the country — the blessed 
 country — and the heart of Ernest Neuchamp, a born 
 and bred land worshipper, went out to the dew-bespangled 
 champaign. 
 
 He halted no more until the great valley of the 
 Hawkesbury lay before him, with again comparatively 
 ancient settlement, composed of massively constructed 
 houses, and even boasting — wonder of wonders — in 
 this strange new land, of — ruins ! Yes ; memorials 
 of the past were there ! of an epoch when the easily 
 acquired fortunes of the military, or other notables of 
 the day, had been devoted to the erection of mansions 
 more in accordance with their British recollections than
 
 62 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 with the circumstances of the colony, or indeed with 
 their regular incomes. Studding the wide fertile meadows 
 were farmhouses of all grades of architecture and pre- 
 tension. Enormous fields of maize, in spite of the 
 untoward rainless season, told of the unsurpassed rich- 
 ness of a region which, after more than half a century's 
 ceaseless cropping, maintained its fertility. 
 
 It so happened that the first two or three individuals 
 who encountered Mr. Neuchamp as he pursued his way 
 along the uniform high road, which led through the flat, 
 somewhat Flemish-looking district, were men of unusual 
 height, breadth, and solidity. Beyond the quick but 
 observant glance habitual to him, our traveller exhibited 
 no surprise at what he took to be exceptional individuals 
 accidentally met. But after several miles' travelling and 
 a repetition of inhabitants of the same vast stature, he 
 commenced to realise the fact that he had come upon a 
 human family of near relationship to the Anakim. 
 
 He then remembered some jesting remarks of ]\Ir. 
 Frankston, in which, for the purpose of pointing to some 
 anecdote of entertaining, if not wholly instructive ten- 
 dency, he had said ' as big and as slow as a Hawkesbury 
 man/ or words to that effect. 
 
 ' Here, then,' mused Ernest, after finally possessing 
 himself of the fact, ' you have the result of an agricul- 
 tural population, located upon rich level country, with 
 ample means of subsistence and an absence of anxiety 
 about the morrow almost absolute. Nearly eighty years 
 have passed since the parent-farmers of this community 
 were settled upon these levels. In their descendants 
 you have the true New Hollander, like his prototype, 
 large, phlegmatic, slow-moving, unenterprising, but bear- 
 ing within him the germs of valiant resistance to tyranny
 
 V A COLONIAL REFORMER 63 
 
 at need, of steadfast labour, of mighty engineering, of 
 deathless struggles for political freedom ! ' 
 
 Having traversed this land of Goshen — evergreen and 
 fertile oasis of the eucalyptus wilderness, not exceptin^^ 
 its Piatt Deutsch habit of periodical total immersion, 
 Ernest halted upon an eminence which bore traces of 
 having been artificially cleared. He gazed upon the 
 broad winding river at his feet, the wide expanse of river, 
 sharply contrasted with the savage heights and rug^^ed 
 ravines of the great mountain -chain which apparently 
 barred all onward path. 
 
 He moved a short distance forward, attracted by the 
 appearance of the remains of an edifice placed exactly 
 upon the brow of the hill, and found himself among 
 the ruins of a mansion of far more than ordinary pre- 
 tensions. 
 
 Fire had destroyed much of the main building, but 
 neglect and abandonment were visible in the dislodged 
 pillars, broken steps, grass-grown courtyard, and roofless 
 hall. 
 
 ' This has been no ordinary home-wreck,' thought he ; 
 * it needs but little imagination to picture to oneself the 
 overflowing hospitality, the wild revelry, the old-world 
 courtesy, that these crumbling walls have witnessed. 
 Mark the great range of stabling ! For no ordinary 
 carriage and pair, with couple of hacks only, were they 
 needed, I trow. There you can still trace the sliape and 
 sweep of the avenue leading from the outer gate to the 
 front entrance, and see where the broken bridge spanned ' 
 the little brook ! A few glorious irregular orange-trees 
 mark the place " where once a garden smiled." This 
 was doubtless one of the great houses in the period 
 which corresponded with the palmy days of the West
 
 64 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 Indian planters, with the old slave-holding times of the 
 Sunny South, when money was plentiful and (compulsory) 
 labour cheap ; when the magnates of the land held high 
 festival, not periodically but as the rule of their daily 
 life, and drank and danced and drove and diced and 
 fought and feasted, all heedless of the morrow, whether 
 in South Carolina, Jamaica, or in Sydney. The morrow 
 had come during the lives of some proprietors. In other 
 cases, not until their heirs were fitted to realise the 
 misery of a lost inheritance. And was this the end, the 
 moral, of that ton vieux temps ? The broken arch, the 
 down-trodden shrubberies, the ghostly portals ? ' 
 
 By the time Mr. Neuchamp had brought his musings 
 to a reluctant conclusion, the sun lay goldenly in the 
 clear autumn eve, athwart the dark blue many-shadowed 
 mountain-chain which rose with abrupt sternness from 
 the broad green fertile levels. A wondrous clearness of 
 atmosphere was manifest to the wayfarer from the misty 
 mother -lands, now irradiated with the glories of a 
 southern sunset. Tints of all hues and gradations of 
 colour, clear unflecked amber, burning gold, purple, and 
 orange, cast themselves in softly blending masses upon 
 the fast darkening, solemn, unrelieved mountain-chain. 
 
 He was aware, from guide-book lore, that at this 
 point the early progress of civilisation and prosperity of 
 the struggling colony of New South Wales had come to 
 an abrupt conclusion. All things which he saw around 
 explained so much. Careful cultivation of land now 
 disused and restored to grazing. A multiplication of 
 small well -improved farms. Expensive and thorough 
 clearing of timber from great tracts of indifferent soil, 
 only explicable on the hypothesis of cheap labour and arti- 
 ficially heightened prices for all kinds of farm produce.
 
 V A COLONIAL REFORMER 65 
 
 Then the end had come. The pent-up flocks and 
 herds, the fall of the protection prices, dearth of employ- 
 ment for labour, the vigorous manhood of the colony 
 native to the soil clamouring for remuneration and 
 adventurous employment — all the causes, in fact, which 
 lead to the decay of a weak or the development of a 
 strong race. 
 
 One people, one * happy breed of men,' in such straits 
 and urgency, has ever found chiefs of its own blood cap- 
 able of guiding it to death or victory. The time was 
 come — the men were at hand — Wentworth, Lawson, and 
 Blaxland, hereditary leaders, as belonging to the military 
 aristocracy, and to the squirearchy of the land, stood 
 forward and fronted the supreme crisis. Taking with 
 them a scant equipment, they cast themselves into the 
 interminable wilderness of barren rock and mountain, 
 frowning precipice and barren heath, endlessly alternat- 
 ing with ' horrible hopeless sultry dells ' for leagues, 
 which no white man had hitherto measured or traversed. 
 
 The problem, upon the favourable solution of which 
 hung the life of the infant settlement, was, whether a 
 region lay beyond this pathless natural barrier, which in 
 pasture alone should prove sufficiently extensive to sus- 
 tain the flocks and herds so rapidly increasing in numbers 
 and value. 
 
 It was a task difficult and dangerous beyond what, 
 in this day of feather-bed travel, the imagination can 
 easily reach. But the reward was splendid ; and they, 
 with hunger -sharpened features, barefooted and almost 
 naked from contact with bush and brier, with the un- 
 shaken courage and dogged obstinacy to the death, proper 
 to their race, reached forth the strong right hand, seized, 
 and held it fast. 
 
 VOL. I F
 
 66 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 For, after untold weary wanderings, with loss of bur- 
 dened beasts, famine, doubt, and every hardship but that 
 of divided counsels, they stood one day upon a mountain- 
 top and saw stretched out before them the glory of the 
 great unknown, untrodden. Austral interior, fated to be 
 the pasture ground of millions of sheep and beeves and 
 horses, the home of millions of Anglo-Saxons. A portion 
 of this they saw when they sighted the first tract of richly 
 grassed park-like forest, the first rippling river, the first 
 prairie-like meadow. 
 
 The yet unfolded treasures of the boundless waste 
 were doubtless seen in the spirit by the poet soul, the 
 statesmanlike intellect, the patriotic heart of William 
 Charles Wentworth. 
 
 Thus far the guide-book narrative, which perhaps Mr. 
 Neuchamp partially recalled and revolved as he betook him- 
 self to the last of the older country towns of the land, which 
 lay amid gardens and church spires on the nether side of 
 the broad river, under the shadow of the ancient mountain 
 superstition, now with ' hull riddled ' by broadsides of 
 steam, like other fallacies exploded by modern determina- 
 tion and the remorseless logic of the age. 
 
 On the morrow the pilgrim girded himself for the long 
 ascent which plainly lay before him when he should cross 
 the bridge and leave the cleared fertile vale. 
 
 Kising at an earlier hour than usual, he quitted the 
 village inn before the sun had more than cleared the 
 eastern horizon. 
 
 Ernest enjoyed in silent ecstasy the calm fresh beauty 
 of the morn, as following the old road, — now winding 
 round the spur of a mountain ; now scarped from the 
 hillside with a sheer fall of a thousand feet ere the tops 
 of the trees could be beheld, which looked like brier-
 
 V A COLONIAL REFORMER 67 
 
 bushes at the bottom of the glen ; now runnmg with 
 comparatively level measure along the plateau from which 
 an endless vision of mountain, valley, and woodland was 
 visible, — he gradually ascended to an elevation from 
 which he was able to take a last glance at the rich low- 
 lands through which the course of the river gleamed in 
 long bright curves. 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp was a tolerable botanist, a rather more 
 advanced geologist. He therefore possessed the unfading 
 interest which he can ever ensure who reads with heaven- 
 cleared eyes the book of nature. He was able to gratify 
 both tastes without departing from the beaten track. 
 Around, before, above him he beheld shrubs, forest trees, 
 flowers, grasses, utterly unknown previously, but which 
 from early reading he was enabled to recognise and classify. 
 Every step along the sandstone slopes or heath-covered 
 mountain-top was to him a joy, a surprise, an overflowing 
 feast of new and pleasurable sensations. 
 
 Descending again from an elevation where the mount- 
 ain wind blew keenly, and the eagle soared from thunder - 
 blasted giant eucalyptus adown the stupendous glen, at 
 the sunless base of which lay an ever-gurgling rivulet of 
 purest spring-fed water, he shouted aloud at the rare ferns 
 which grew in unnoticed tender beauty where ' rivulets 
 dance their wayward round.' He saw the deserted and 
 rude appliances where the wandering miner had essayed to 
 ' wash out ' a modest deposit of the great conqueror, 
 gold ! 
 
 Then would he happen upon some long-disused, half- 
 forgotten ' camp,' a half military station, where a subaltern 
 had been stationed with some hundred convicts, whose 
 forced labour made the road upon which he now so 
 peaceably travelled.
 
 68 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 There were the huts, here the great blocks of stone 
 which they had hewn and raised from the quarry ; there 
 had been the triangles where, pah ! the contumacious or 
 luckless convict had the flesh cut from his back or much 
 bemarked at least by that high official the go^^ernment 
 flog^Qjer. How wondrous strand the view, at morn and 
 eve, before the eye of hopeless God-forsaken men, who in 
 deliberate wrath and unendurable misery, cursed there- 
 from the day and the night, the moon and stars, the 
 country, and every official from the gaoler to the governor. 
 He gazed at the glorious cataract where the lonely water 
 gathers its stray threads to fall like the lace tracery of a 
 veil over the sullen spur. He saw the rock battlements 
 and pinnacles, bright in the morniug sun, against the 
 rifted water-washed bases of which in long past ages the 
 billows of an ancient sea had rolled and dashed. He 
 saw the huge promontories which frowningly reared 
 themselves on the verge of measureless abysses or 
 obtruded their vast proportions and dizzy height into the 
 boundless ocean of .pale foliage which stretched, alter- 
 nating but with sandstone peaks and masses, to the 
 farthest horizon. From time to time he encountered 
 men in charoe of droves of horses and of cattle. These of 
 necessity pursued the old and rugged road, not caring to 
 use the swifter, costlier trainage. At first Mr. Neuchamp 
 used to stand in the middle of the road, until he was 
 warned by the fierce eyes and glancing horns of the 
 cattle, and the extremely unreserved language of the 
 accompanying stockmen, that he was violating etiquette 
 and incurring danger. 
 
 Ever and anon he would halt as the warning steam- 
 whistle heralded the approach of a locomotive, and marvel 
 and muse as he saw the long train wind swiftly and securely
 
 y A COLONIAL REFORMER 69 
 
 adown or up the graded mountain side. He saw the half- 
 advancing, half - receding series of approaches which at 
 length land the travellers and the merchandise of the 
 coast upon the pinnacles of the Australian Mont 
 Cenis, and he thanked God, who had made him of 
 one kindred with the men w^ho had conquered nature, 
 both in the land of his fathers which he had left and 
 in the new land, a void and voiceless primeval forest but 
 yesterday. 
 
 Much reflecting upon the overflowing pabulum mentis 
 which had been spread before him on that day, Ernest 
 was as grateful as a philosopher could be when he saw at 
 the rather chilly approach of eve the outline of a building, 
 faulty as a work of primitive art, as a specimen of any 
 known order of architecture beneath contempt. It was 
 the humble abode of one of the innkeepers of a former 
 regime, who had retained his lodgment upon the keen 
 mountain plateau, and still smoked his pipe beside the 
 roaring log fire in frosty winter nights. He now gathered 
 russet pippins in his orchard, with an increasing sense of 
 solvency, long after the last of the coaches had rattled 
 away from his door to face the awful grades of the mid- 
 night mountain stage. 
 
 When, therefore, after a glorious day of intellectual 
 exercise and frank bodily toil this most praiseworthy 
 hostelry was reached, Mr. ISTeuchamp felt that fate had 
 but small chance of doing him an injury on that parti- 
 cular night, had her intention been ever so unkind. He 
 walked briskly up to the house, and was then and there 
 taken in charge by a fresh -coloured, broad-shouldered, 
 cheery individual, evidently the landlord, or a gross 
 personal forgery of that functionary. He was promptly 
 relieved of his knapsack, and lodged in the cleanest
 
 70 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 of bedrooms, with spoken and definite assurance of 
 dinner. 
 
 ' I see you a-comin' up the hill, with my glass, a good 
 two miles off,' said Boniface. * You see, sir, there ain't 
 no other place but mine for twenty mile good. So I 
 made the old woman have everything handy for a spatch- 
 cock. He always liked a spatchcock. Many a time he's 
 been a furragin' and a rummagin' over every nook and 
 cranny of these here mountains till he must have walked 
 them blessed iron legs of his very near off. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 You'll excuse me, sir ; but when I see the knapsack, I 
 took you for the Eev. Mr. Marke, the heminent-geehol- 
 holler.' 
 
 ' Geologist, I suppose you mean,' asserted Ernest. 
 ' Well, I hope you are not deeply disappointed ; I ain 
 glad to find that there's a man in Australia besides my- 
 self who is fond of using his legs.' 
 
 * Bless your heart, sir, you'll find when you've a been in 
 the country a few years more ' (here Ernest contracted 
 his brow) ' that there's a many gentlemen likes a goodish 
 long walk when they can get a bit of a holiday. There's 
 Counsellor Burley, he thinks nothing of a twenty-mile 
 walk out and in, nor his brother neither. They all comes 
 up to me when they want to stretch their legs a bit. But 
 I must see to your tea, sir.' 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp was partly interested in this record of 
 pedes trianism other than his own. Nevertheless, he ex- 
 perienced a shade of disappointment at finding that he was 
 not in such a glorious monopoly of tourist life as he had 
 imagined. However, as he stretched his slipper-encased 
 feet on either side of the great fireplace, in which burned 
 a fire, which the keen, almost frosty mountain air made 
 pleasant and necessary, he came to the conclusion that
 
 V A COLONIAL REFORMER 71 
 
 ' none but the brave/ etc. ; or, in other words, that no man 
 who has not done a fair day's journey, upon his own legs, 
 if possible, can thoroughly, intensely, comprehensively 
 enjoy a well-cooked, well-served evening meal, like unto 
 the spatchcock which immediately followed, and put a 
 period to these reflections.
 
 CHAPTEE VI 
 
 It may be doubted whether a large proportion of what 
 man is prone to call happiness is secured by any mortal, 
 in so compressed and complete a form, as by the reason- 
 ably weary wayfarer during an evening spent in a cheery 
 old-fashioned inn. The conditions of enjoyment are 
 superbly complete. The body, healthily tired, craves 
 utter repose, supplemented by the creature-comforts so 
 plentifully accorded to a solvent lodger. The mind, ever 
 a comparative reflex of the organic register of the body, 
 is so far dominated- as to lie luxuriously and ruminatively 
 quiescent. The great ocean of the future, with possible 
 armadas, Columbus discoveries, whirlpools, and typhoons, 
 lies mist -shrouded and peaceful -murmurous. The mild 
 lustre of fairly-purchased present enjoyment is shed lamp- 
 like over the whole being. The difficult past, the uncertain 
 future, are shut out from the mental view as completely 
 as are the dark streets and stranger groups of a city, by 
 shrouding curtains, when the interior life is alone visible. 
 Care, save by improbable hazard, is thrust out till the 
 morn. Till then the joys of unpalled appetite. Slumber, 
 soft-tpuched, silent nurse, points with warning finger to 
 the couch. Eeverie may be fondled, darling nymph, 
 without the rebuke of cold-eyed prudence. The wayfarer
 
 A COLONIAL REFORMER 73 
 
 is a monarch for that evening only. His subjects haste 
 to do his bidding. His purse contains a compressible 
 coronet, investing him with regal dignity and absolute 
 power, while the talisman coin is potent. Burly Sam 
 Johnson loved ' to take his ease at an inn.' Was there 
 an added luxury in the uncounted cups of tea therein 
 possible, dissevered from the fear of accidents to Mrs. 
 Thrale's table-cloth ? 
 
 The supper had come and gone, and Mr. Neuchamp 
 was sleepily watching the glowing embers in the fireplace 
 with a strong mental deflection towards bed, when the 
 pistol-crack of stock-whips, the lowing of cattle, and a 
 faint echo of the far pervading British oath prepared him 
 for a new and probably interesting arrival. His first 
 impulse was to rush wildly into the road, in order to see 
 a drove of cattle by moonlight, but having accidentally 
 observed that the stockyard was very near the house, he 
 restrained himself and awaited the landlord's irrepressible 
 report. 
 
 In a quarter of an hour that sympathetic personage, 
 evidently the bearer of important news, entered the 
 sitting-room. 
 
 * Hear the whip, sir ? that was Ironbark Ike, with a 
 couple o' hundred head of fat cattle of the ( ) and 
 Bar brand. Splendid lot. Paim character, old Ike ; been 
 a stockman and drover this fifty year. Like to see him, 
 sir ? he's a- smoking his pipe in the kitchen.' 
 
 Like to see him ? Of course Mr. Neuchamp would 
 like to see him, though he mildly assented, and did not 
 betray the tremulous eagerness with which he mentally 
 grasped the chance of beholding a stockman of half a 
 century's experience, in his eyes little less than a sheik 
 of the Bedaween.
 
 74 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 Following his trusty host to the large smoke-blackened, 
 old-fashioned kitchen, he saw a sinewy, grizzled old man, 
 smoking an extremely black pipe by the fire, who turned 
 a pair of spectral gleaming eyes upon him, and then 
 resumed his position. 
 
 ' Ike, this is a gentleman going up the country ; he 
 ain't been out long ' (Ike nodded expressively), ' and he 
 wants your advice about buying a cattle station. He'd 
 rather them nor sheep.' 
 
 ' Sheep be blanked,' said the old man savagely. ' I 
 should think not. Who the blank would walk at the 
 tails of a lot of blank crawling sheep, when he could ride 
 a good horse after a mob of thousand-weight bullocks, 
 like I've got here to-night ? ' 
 
 * Mr. Landlord,' said Ernest, ' I should like a glass of 
 grog. Won't Mr. — a — Ike, here, and yourself join me ? ' 
 
 The refreshment was not declined, and having been 
 produced, Ike abandoned his pipe and proceeded to 
 expound the law as regarded cattle — wild, tame, fat, store, 
 branded and unbranded, broken -in, or 'all over the 
 country' — in an oracular tone, suggestive of experiences 
 and adventure far beyond the reach of ordinary men. 
 
 ' Travelled this line ? ah ! You remember me a fairish 
 time, Joe ; but I've been along these ranges and gullies 
 with stock long before the old road was finished, when 
 you were sure to meet more than one bushranger, and had 
 to carry your grub and camp for weeks together. Many 
 a queer drive I've had on this very track. They had no 
 steamers fizzin' up and down the rocks then, takin' sheep 
 and cattle behind 'em, all mashed up together in boxes 
 like so many herrin's. It took a mem to bring a mob of 
 fat bullocks from the Lower Castlereagh or the Macquarie, 
 let alone the Narran, in them days.'
 
 VI A COLONIAL REFORMER 75 
 
 ' I suppose you had some rougliisli trips them days/ 
 suggested the host. 
 
 'You may swear that, Joe/ affirmed the war-worn 
 stockman, with a grim contortion of his facial muscles ; 
 ' take the book in your right hand, as they say, when you 
 are in the " jump-up." Here,' added he, as he swallowed 
 his brandy at a gulp, and made a sign to the landlord, 
 ' fetch in another round, if this gentleman here ain't too 
 proud, and I'll tell you a yarn about drivin' cattle — one 
 you don't hear every day.' 
 
 The replenished glasses reappeared, and the veteran 
 of the * spur, the bridle, and the well-worn hrand,' having 
 filled his pipe and partly emptied his glass, made a com- 
 mencement. 
 
 ' It was a matter of thirty years ago, or more ; I was 
 a young chap then and pretty flash, knowed my w^ork, 
 and wasn't afraid of man, beast, or devil. Well, I'd got 
 a biggish mob of fat stock for them days — there was no 
 ten thousand head on any man's run then — and a rough 
 time we'd had of it. It had rained every day since we 
 started. We'd had to swim every river and every creek 
 as we come to, and w^atch for the first fortnight, all night 
 long, with the horses' bridles in our hands.' 
 
 ' I suppose they were rather wild cattle ? ' inquired 
 Mr. Neuchamp, sipping his brandy and water distrustfully. 
 
 Ironbark Ike bent a searching look upon his interro- 
 gator before he answered. 
 
 * Wild ? Well, I suppose you might call 'em that, 
 and make no mistake. They'd come off a very far out- 
 run, where they'd been, as one might say, neglected. 
 Never see a yard for years, some on 'em. They was that 
 wild, that as we drove along, if they came to the fresh 
 track of a " footman," they'd stop and smell it and paw
 
 76 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 the ground and roar for ever so long. AVe'd hard work 
 to get 'em by it. As to seein' people on foot, there 
 wasn't much of that ; and any travellers they kept clear 
 enough of us, if they'd ever heard of the DD cattle. 
 
 ' Well, we'd dodged them along pretty fair, that is me 
 and a ]N"arran black boy and a young Fish Eiver native 
 chap, that was pretty nigh as unbroken as the black boy ; 
 he could ride the best, but the black boy had twice as 
 much savey.' 
 
 * Some o' them darkies is pretty smart,' interposed the 
 host, gradually becoming less respectful to his ancient 
 guest, of whom he apparently stood in considerable awe. 
 
 ' Smartest chaps ever I had on the road was black- 
 fellows when they're wild ; as long as they can ride a 
 bit, the wilder the better, and get 'em off their own 
 ground, then they're afraid to bolt.' 
 
 ' I should have supposed when they have had the 
 benefit of education they would have been more valuable 
 assistants,' mildly asserted Mr. Neuchamp. 
 
 ' Euins 'em, bodily and teetotally,' asserted Ike, with 
 iron decision. ' No educated blackfellow was ever worth 
 a curse. But tame or wild they've all one fault, and it 
 drops 'em in the end.' 
 
 ' Indeed, how singular ! ' said Ernest, ' how strange 
 that this sub-variety of the human race should have one 
 pronounced weakness ! And what may it be ? ' 
 
 ' Drink ! ' shouted the veteran, draining his glass. 
 ' We can do another round, Joe. Never knew one of 'em 
 that didn't take to drink, sooner or later ; and, in course, 
 that cooked 'em,' he added, with an impressive moral air. 
 
 ' Sure to do,' echoed the landlord, appearing with 
 fresh rummers. 
 
 ' I have no doubt,' assented Mr. Neuchamp blandly,
 
 VI A COLONIAL REFORMER 77 
 
 but mucli in the dark as to the real nature of the culinary 
 process described. 
 
 ' Well,' proceeded Mr. Isaac, settling himself calmly 
 down to his fourth tumbler, ' where was I ? with those 
 blank cattle, oh ! at the top of the road where it used to 
 make in, at the top of Mount Victoria. By gum 1 it 
 makes me feel as if there was no rheumatism in these 
 blessed old bones of mine when I think how we rode all 
 that blessed day. All the night before we'd been on our 
 horses, round and round the cattle, in a scrub full of 
 rocks ; it rained in buckets and tubs, thundering and 
 lightning, and pitch dark ; and I, knowing that if the 
 cattle broke loose, we'd never see half of 'em again.' 
 
 * Why, bless my soul ! ' ejaculated Mr. Neuchamp, 
 completely dislodged from his previous conviction that 
 cattle were a more pleasing and interesting description of 
 stock than sheep, ' how did you ever succeed in keeping 
 them ? ' 
 
 ' We did keep 'em, and that's about all I know,' 
 responded the fierce drover of other days. 'How we did 
 it the devil only knows. I swore enough that night for 
 him to lend a hand, if he's on for such fakes, as some 
 says. I rode slap into Tin Pot, the black boy, once, 
 taking him for an old cow, and Tommy Toke, the white 
 lad, ran against a tree and knocked one of his horse's 
 eyes clean out. Well, daylight came at last, and we had 
 the cattle at our own price, blast 'em. All day they was 
 very sulky and slinged along, and wouldn't feed. Well, 
 we was sulky too, for we'd no time to stop and cook a 
 bite, it was so thick.' 
 
 ' What started 'em so ? ' inquired the landlord ; ' they'd 
 had a deal of camping before they came so far.' 
 
 ' God knows ! — a kangaroo or a bear, or they saw a
 
 78 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 ghost or a blackfellow — something we couldn't see ; and 
 once they were fairly up, the devil himself wouldn't get 
 them to settle again. Now I knew a first-rate camp two 
 or three miles from the bottom of this here hill, almost 
 as good as a yard, but with a bit of feed and water in, 
 a regular wall of rock all round ; one man, with a fire, 
 could keep 'em first-rate. So my dart was to get to this 
 place, and I was looking forward to a bit of hot damper 
 and a warm quart or two of tea, with a quiet smoke. 
 
 ' Just as I thinks of this we turned the corner, and 
 there, in the narrowest part of the road, was a road gang, 
 as they call it, a goodish crowd of chained convicts 
 makin' believe to mend the road, with a party of soldiers 
 to look after 'em, and a young officer to look after the 
 soldiers, and a white-whiskered, hard-hearted old rascal 
 of a corporal to look after him. 
 
 ' The corporal was a- walking up and down, on guard, 
 backwards and forwards, very stiff and solemn. There'd 
 been a chap bolted (and shot dead, too) the night afore, 
 so he had on a bit of extra pipeclay. 
 
 ' Our mob propped, dead — the cattle and Tin Pot and 
 Tommy Toke — at what they'd never seen afore. Now 
 we couldn't give the party the go-by anyhow, unless they 
 went into their huts.' 
 
 ' Why not ? ' asked Mr. Neuchamp, deeply interested. 
 
 ' Because the mountain was like the side of a house 
 above the road, and fell straight down below five hundred 
 feet, like a sea-cliff. There was just that chain or two 
 of level track, and that was all. I goes up to the 
 corporal, " I say, mate," says I, " can't you get your 
 canaries off the track here for about a quarter of an 
 hour, and let my mob of cattle pass ? " 
 
 ' He looks at me, turning his eyes, but not his head,
 
 VI A COLOXIAL REFORMER 79 
 
 and keeps on marching up and down like a blessed 
 image ; all he says was, " Make an application to the 
 officer in command," says he. 
 
 'So I looks about, and presently I sees a slight- 
 built young fellow, in a shell jacket, lounging about a 
 tent. 
 
 ' " 'Sense me, captain," says I, " will you order your 
 men to leave off their work (work, thinks I) and keep 
 the road clear while I get my cattle past ? They're 
 awful wild, and won't face the track with all these chaps 
 in yellow and black and leg-irons. They never see a 
 road gang before." 
 
 ' " What extraordinary cattle for New South Wales ! " 
 said the young fellow ; " I should say there was plenty 
 of room between the men and the hill. Can't move her 
 Majesty's troops nor the industrious gang before six 
 o'clock." 
 
 ' By , I was mad. If we couldn't get the cattle 
 
 by with the light, we ran the risk of their breaking 
 before we got to camp and having another night like last 
 night over again. It vkis hard ! I ground my teeth as 
 I went back and passed the corporal, walking up and 
 down with his confounded musket. 
 
 ' When I got past him I saw the cattle staring and 
 looking hard, drawn up a good deal closer. The two 
 boys were very sulky at the notion of another night 
 watching and riding, with scarce anything to eat for 
 twenty-four hours. So was I, when I thought of the 
 long cold hours if we didn't make our camp. 
 
 ' Suddenly an idea came into my head ; I see some- 
 thing as give me a notion. " Tommy Toke," says I, 
 " you look out to back up and keep the tail of the mob 
 going, if they make a rush. Tin Pot, you keep on the
 
 80 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 upper side, and look out they don't break back. They're 
 a-going to make a charge." 
 
 ' What started me on this plan all of a sudden, was 
 this wise. We had an old blue half-bred buffalo cow 
 and her son, a four-year-old black bullock, in the mob ; 
 he followed his mother, as they will do sometimes. He 
 was a regular pebble, and the old cow hadn't been in a 
 yard since he was branded. She was the biggest tigress 
 ever I see ; that's sayin' something. Well, I see the old 
 Eoosian paw the ground now .and then, and keep draw- 
 ing towards the corporal, as was marchin' up and down 
 same as he was in Buckingham Palace. 
 
 ' I keep watching the old cow drawin' and drawin', and 
 pawin' and pawin'. He thought she might be a milker. 
 Suddenly she gives a short bellow, makes for the corporal 
 at the rate of forty miles an hour, followed by the black 
 bullock, and the mob behind him. 
 
 ' The first thing I saw was the corporal a-flyin' in the 
 air one way, his musket another, and the cow, the black 
 bullock, and the whole of the mob charging through the 
 soldiers and the road gang. 
 
 ' " Back up, boys," I roared, " keep them going ! " as 
 we swept through the party ; soldiers running one way, 
 the convicts, poor beggars, making their chains rattle 
 again in their hurry to get safe away. That was a time ! 
 I saw the young soldier-officer capsized on to one of his 
 men. Such a smash I never see ; it was all downhill 
 luckily. Away we went at the tail of the mob, gallop- 
 ing for our lives, and soon left red coats and yellow 
 trousers, muskets and leg-irons, far behind us. Luckily 
 the mob was too wild to break, and before sundown we 
 were miles from the bottom of the hill, and had the 
 cattle safe inside of the rock-wall camp, where we had a
 
 Yi A COLONIAL KEFORMER 81 
 
 good feed and a night's sleep, both of which we wanted 
 bad enougli.' 
 
 ' I'll be bound you did/ assented the landlord ; ' it's a 
 hard life, is a stockman's — out in all weathers, and risk- 
 ing your life, as one might say.' 
 
 ' Life ? ' said the saturnine, grizzled old land-pirate, 
 who had apparently relapsed into a different train of 
 thought ; ' what's a man's life in this country ; leastways 
 used to be. Here 1 ' roared he, dashing his hand upon 
 the table, ' bring in a bottle of brandy, Joe, and a kettle 
 of water, and I'll tell you a yarn about old days as 11 
 make your hair curl, unless this here gentleman's ashamed 
 to drink with old Ike ? ' 
 
 Mr. Xeuchamp had by this period of the evening 
 made the discovery that he had invoked a fiend that he 
 was unable to lay ; as the old stockman glared at him 
 with half-infuriate, half-imploring eyes, while putting his 
 last observation into the form of a question, he felt 
 much inclined to defy and refuse his uncomfortable boon 
 companion. But having evaded the implied obligation 
 to drink so far he thought it expedient to comply, partly 
 from the novelty of the experience, partly from his 
 dislike to a possible quarrel. 
 
 ' Ha ! ' said the strange old man, as he half filled his 
 tumbler with the powerful spirit, and stirred the hea\y 
 red glowing logs in the stone fireplace till they shot up 
 a shower of sparks, and threw out a fierce heat like the 
 mouth of a furnace ; ' fine thing is a fire ! that put me in 
 mind of it. Fill up, curse ye ! Joe, ye old, half-baked 
 Jimmy. It was over on the Dervent side, afore I came 
 here at all, that two chaps as did a good deal on the 
 cross, that's how it was told me, was a-skinnin' a bullock 
 in a gully, as had only one end to it.' 
 
 VOL. I G
 
 82 A COLOXIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 ' What do you mean by that ? ' inquired Mr. Neu- 
 champ. ' Surely ' 
 
 ' I mean/ impatiently broke in the narrator, ' as you 
 could run stock in at one end, and if they got high up 
 they found a wall of rock at the far end, and they couldn't 
 well get back, it was so tarnation narroAv. Xow do you 
 savey ? They were the only coves as knew the secret of it 
 in that part, and many a beast, and many a colt and tilly — 
 horses was horses then — they branded or put away there. 
 Well, as I was saying, they wasn't two very particular 
 chaps, and they was a-skinnin' of a bullock, having 
 previously killed him ; there warn't no doubt of that, as 
 the head was on the ground close by with a bullet hole 
 not very far off the curl. Similarly it was a " cross " 
 beast. No mistake about that either. The hide, three- 
 parts off, showed the EX brand ; one that belonged to H., 
 one of the largest stockholders in the island, and a man 
 who would prosecute any man as dared touch his 
 property, to the gallows, if he could get him there. Xo 
 hope of mercy from him. They had no right to take the 
 bullock, of course it was felony, and now they were 
 caught red-handed by this chap — Pretty Jack ; he was 
 the ugliest man in the island, and he was going to turn 
 informer. He grinned when he came up. " There's my 
 liberty," says he, pointing to the beast ; " I'm sorry for you, 
 boys," says he, " but every man for himself." The men 
 looks at one another, then at him ; he had 'em in his 
 hand ; they saw the courthouse crammed, and heard the 
 judge pass the sentence, a heavy one of course, for a 
 second colonial conviction. They heard the gaol door 
 clang as they were shut in for the long infernal years 
 which would bring 'em nearly, if not quite, to the end of 
 a man's life. Some of this sort these two chaps had tasted
 
 VI A COLONIAL REFORMER 83 
 
 before ; they shuddered and trembled when they thought 
 of it, and the man who was to do all this by his own 
 willing informing was their own friend and fellow-prisoner ; 
 an accomplice, too, in a goodish lot of undiscovered crimes. 
 He sat looking at the beast with a stupid grin on his 
 ugly face. They looked at each other. Then one man 
 walked past him on the track, and stopped. When he 
 saw this man's eyes, and the murder written there, he 
 called out, " For God's sake, don't kill me, mates ; it was 
 all in joke, I never meant to inform on you." But it was 
 too late — they were too much afraid of their own lives to 
 trust them to him ; besides their anger had been kindled 
 against the man who had been an accomplice, and was 
 now an informer. "All right. Jack," called out one of 
 the men, " help us to get off this hide." He did so 
 nervously, and anxious to curry favour. The hide was 
 soon stripped, and as they turned to make some joking 
 remark, one of them struck him over the head with a 
 heavy piece of wood. The wretched fool fell on his 
 knees, groaning bad enough. 
 
 ' " my God ! — Charley," said he, in his agony, 
 " what's this about ? — you won't really hurt me ? for the 
 love of God, for the sake of my wife and the young ones, 
 pity me ; I never meant it, God above knows." 
 
 ' " Nonsense, man," said one of them, " we ain't a-going 
 to hurt ye ; we're only a-goin' to stitch ye up in this here 
 hide a bit, to keep ye from gabbin' while we're putting 
 this bullock away. Now lie still, or by — I'll pole- 
 axe you." 
 
 ' He laid quiet, thinking he would soon be let go, and 
 while the men laced him up in the hide, making eyelet- 
 holes, and running thongs of hide through, which made it 
 fit pretty close, he thought he might lie for a few hours.
 
 84 A COLOXIAL KEFORMER chap. 
 
 and then the people from the uext place would find him, 
 and let him go free. 
 
 ' The men cut up the bullock. They lighted a large 
 fire and put the head, offal, and feet upon it ; they packed 
 part of it on a wheelbarrow. Then they hung a strong 
 green-hide rope between the two trees above the fire ; one 
 said something to the other in a low growling tone ; he 
 shook his head, but at last they came towards the bound- 
 up wretch ; he was not able to stir, in course, but it loas 
 pitiful — my God, so it was, to see his eyes move like an 
 animal's in a trap, as the men went up to him. 
 
 ' '' For God's sake, men, spare me," he moaned 
 out. 
 
 ' " Spare you ? " said the oldest of 'em ; " spare a man 
 who betrays his own pals, and sells his fellow-men for a 
 miserable ticket -of- leave ? Damn you!" he roared, 
 " your time's up, if you had a dozen lives. Here, Ike." 
 
 ' Between them they raised him, lifted him in their 
 arms, and hung him up by the rope actually across the 
 roaring fire. The wet hide protected him for a bit, but 
 when the fire began to take effect his shrieks (they told 
 me) w^as that horrid and unnatural that they had to stop 
 their ears. 
 
 ' There they stopped till the shrieks died away in 
 death. How he writhed and screamed, and prayed and 
 cursed, and wept and struggled like a maniac. But the 
 tough hide held through everything, though he wrenched 
 it as if he could break an iron band. It was a long 
 while to watch the tongues of the flame dart up as 
 inside the black sheet still writhed a shuddering, howling 
 form. It couldn't have been much like a man's at last. 
 Then all the noise died away, and the bag hung steady 
 and still.'
 
 VI A COLO^'IAL REFORMER 85 
 
 ' And did the fiends wlio perpetrated tliis awful deed 
 escape punishment ? ' asked Ernest. 
 
 ' AVell, I don't laiow about 'scaping punishment,' said 
 the ancient colonist, looking somewhat like one of 
 Morgan's buccaneers, questioned as to the retribution, 
 moral or otherwise, that followed the sack of Panama, 
 ' but they got clear off, and it was years afterwards that 
 a half-burnt hide with a skeleton inside was found near 
 the old camp.' 
 
 ' And did the principal criminal never suffer remorse ? ' 
 still inquired Ernest, with horror in every tone ; ' are 
 such men suffered by God to live ? ' 
 
 At that moment the fire blazed up ; a change, wonder- 
 ful and dread, came over the face of the old stockman. 
 He started up ; his eyeballs glared like those of a maniac ; 
 every muscle, every feature was convulsed. ' Who talks 
 of murderers ? "They ? He ? I did it. I, Bill Murdoch, 
 and the devil. He was there ; I see him grinning by the 
 fire now. Ha, ha ! I can hear his screams, my God, 
 my God ! as I've heard 'em every day since. I hear 'em 
 now. I shall hear 'em in hell ! Look !' 
 
 So speaking, with eyes protruding, with every facial 
 nerve and muscle quivering with horror and unspeakable 
 dread, he pointed towards the fireplace, as one who sees 
 the approach of a form, horrible, unavoidable, unearthly. 
 Then, gasping and shuddering, he fell prone and heavily 
 to the floor, without an effort to save himself. 
 
 The landlord approached and loosened his handker- 
 chief. ' It's partly the grog,' he whispered to Ernest. 
 ' Nobody can say how much brandy and how much truth's 
 mixed up in this here yarn ; but he's seen some rough 
 work in his day, has Ike — though I never see him like 
 this before. Thank you, sir ; I can get him to bed now.'
 
 86 A COLOXIAL REFORMER chap, vi 
 
 My. Neiichamp promptly sought Ms couch, decidiug 
 that he had come in for a much larger dose of the 
 sensational element than he had counted upon, and 
 doubting whether he should repeat the experiment. 
 
 When he awoke, after a heavy but perturbed slumber, 
 the sun was up, and his first question was of the welfare 
 of the strange old stockman. 
 
 ' Gone, hours ago, sir. He just slept till nigh hand 
 davlidit, and then he roused out his men, lets the cattle 
 out of the yard, and off he goes.' 
 
 ' And was he able to sit on his horse,' was Mr. 
 Neuchamp's very natural question, ' after drinking a 
 bottle of brandy and having a fit ? ' 
 
 ' A deal better nor we could, I expect, sir. He's iron- 
 bark right through, that old Ike. Takes a deal to kill 
 the likes of him.' 
 
 ' Apparently so,' assented Ernest. ' What wonderful 
 energy, what indomitable resolution must he possess ! 
 Used in a better cause, what results might such a man 
 not have reached ! " 'Tis pity of him," as the Douglas 
 said of Marmion, who in this century, instead of that in 
 which Flodden was fought, might have adorned a colony 
 too, if there had been any one to lay the information, " for 
 that he did feloniously and unlawfully obtain the custody 
 of one young lady," etc. etc., anent that forged letter. 
 Heigh ho ! I don't feel quite as much in the humour for 
 walking to-day as I did yesterday. Still, it's a case 
 of Excelsior, I suppose. Un avant, Neuchamp ! St. 
 Xewbold inspire thy son and servant.'
 
 CHAPTEE VII 
 
 When Mr. Neuchamp looked around, after completing 
 his toilette, the scene strongly stirred his imaginative 
 mind ; it was unique, unfamiliar, and majestic. At his 
 feet, down the long incline of the mountain, lay the vast 
 foreign-foliaged, primeval forests, the silver- threaded, 
 winding rivulets, the hoary crag-ramparts of yesterday's 
 travel shrouded in billowing, rolling mists, or rich in 
 combination of light and shade, colour and effect, and at 
 tlie biddino' of the morninoj sunbeam. As far as vision 
 extended, nought but these characteristic features of the 
 mountain wilderness w^as visible. Immediately around 
 him, however, were decisive though humble evidences of 
 the domination of art over nature. The inn orchard, with 
 its autumn-blushing apples, stables, barn-yard, the cheer- 
 ful smoking chimneys in the ' eager air ' — all these told 
 of the limited but absolute sw^ay of civilised man. Ernest's 
 ideas gradually shaped themselves into the concrete fact 
 of breakfast. 
 
 ^fter this luxurious meal Mr. Neuchamp felt his 
 ardour for travel and exploration rekindled. He inquired 
 the road from the landlord and boldly pushed on. Much 
 the same fortune attended him, sometimes traversing 
 rugged and barren country, and at other times finding
 
 88 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 cottages, farms, and orchards upon his route. Wheu, 
 however, he reached the more open forest lands, he found 
 that a portion of the carefully graded highway was in 
 process of being metalled. Here were many parties of 
 stonebreakers at work by contract, apparently preferring 
 such labour to the more monotonous daily wage. 
 
 Asking for water at one small camp, he found in the 
 cook a well-mannered youngster, doubtless a gentleman. 
 Ernest was pressed to take more substantial refreshment, 
 but he declined the offer. 
 
 ' How far do you think of going to-day ? ' inquired the 
 affable stone-compeller. 
 
 'About half a dozen miles,' replied Mr. Xeuchamp, 
 who by this time had completed the chief portion of a 
 fair day's trudge. 
 
 ' My reason for asking,' continued the basaltic one, ' is, 
 that we are going to have a little dinner at an inn just 
 so far distant. The party consists of my mates — very 
 decent fellows — and our superintendent, who is a regular 
 brick. We shall be glad if you will join us.' 
 
 ' Most happy indeed,' answered Ernest, especially 
 gratified to enter upon a new phase of life utterly outside 
 of his previous experiences, and perhaps more typically 
 Australian than anything he could have stumbled upon 
 except by the merest accident. He had dined in many 
 queer places and met with strange company in his day, 
 being always ready to extend his observations in the 
 interest of philosophical inquiry, but a dinner of persons 
 who broke stones upon a highroad for their subsistence, 
 and who were presumably gentlemen, he had never 
 yet been so fortunate as to hear of, much less to par- 
 take of. 
 
 ' If you don't mind waiting half an hour,' pursued the
 
 VII A COLOXIAL REFORMER 8t) 
 
 Amphitryon, ' while I change my clothes, we can walk 
 down comfortably together.' 
 
 ' Are you in the habit of having these little dinners to 
 solace your rather austere labours ? ' inquired Ernest. 
 
 ' Well, not exactly ; though we have not been so 
 very uncomfortable here for the last six months. We 
 are all gentlemen, in our party, out of luck; and a man 
 might do worse, who is young and strong, than earn six 
 shillings a day by fair downright labour, in a cool climate. 
 All we have to do is to pile up so many yards of metal 
 for the road superintendent to measure. When he 
 " passes it " our money is safe, and we are as independent 
 as le Pioi d'Yvelot. We live comfortably, smoke our 
 pipes in the evening, sleep unusually well, and enjoy real 
 rest on Sundays. But " little dinners " are expensive, 
 and there would be a slight probability of some of the 
 party going " on the burst," after three or four months' 
 teetotalism.' 
 
 ' On the burst ? I do not quite follow.' 
 
 ' On the burst,' explained the colonist, ' vernacular 
 signifying a protracted and utterly reckless debauch. It's 
 an Australian malady. Hope you'll never be in the way 
 of infection. But as good men as either of us have got 
 inoculated and never wholly recovered. Now, the occa- 
 sion of this entertainment, which is given by me,' con- 
 tinued the metallician, ' is, like Mr. Weller's new suit of 
 clothes, a " wery partic'ler and uncommon ewent." Fact 
 is, I've been left a few thousand pounds by a good-for- 
 nothing old uncle of mine in England, who never gave me 
 so much as a shilling knife all his life, and is now gone 
 to glory, and with all his earthly goods me endowed, 
 much against the grain. And so I'm going to Sydney by 
 the coach to-morrow, and home bv mail steamer on Mon-
 
 90 A COLOKIAL REFOR]\IER chap. 
 
 day after. What do you think of that for a lark ? ' 
 inquired he, giving a leap, and shying his hat into the 
 air with a schoolboy joyousness much at variance with 
 his previously imperturbable demeanour. 
 
 ' I think it's a very pleasant story, with a capital 
 ending,' said Ernest, ' and that's a great matter. I don't 
 suppose the stonebreaking has done you any harm, except 
 roughening your hands a little.' 
 
 ' Xot a bit in the world — a good deal the other way. 
 I was a lazy young scamp while my money lasted. Now 
 I can do a man's work, know personally what a day's 
 labour actually is, and shall respect (and be able slightly 
 to check) the task of the born labourer all my life after. 
 Here we are at the inn.' 
 
 Thus talking, they arrived at the inn, a roomy and 
 respectable hotel, where the up coach and the down daily 
 met and deposited hungry passengers, who were accommo- 
 dated with hasty but highly-priced meals. Here they 
 were met by the landlord, a civil and capable personage, 
 who inducted them into bedrooms, and shortly after into 
 a snug private parlour, where, with considerable splendour 
 of glass, flowers, and table-linen, preparation for the 
 dinner was partially made. 
 
 Here Mr. I^euchamp found several gentlemen-like 
 men, in tweed morning costume. Before long the 
 superintendent appeared. Ernest was introduced by his 
 new friend. The conversation became general, and within 
 a reasonable time dinner was announced. 
 
 This repast was exceedingly well served, cooked, and, 
 it may be added, appreciated. The wines were fair, and 
 so was the drinking, though within the bounds of dis- 
 cretion. 
 
 Subjects of general interest and of political bearing
 
 VII A COLOXIAL REFORMER 91 
 
 were discussed in a manner -which showed that the 
 imhuhim mentis had not been lost sight of, toils notwith- 
 standing. The health of their friend, ' who by an unex- 
 pected but by no means unkind freak of Fortune — a 
 divinity of whom they all had previous experience — was 
 about to be translated to a happier hemisphere,' was suit- 
 ably proposed and responded to ; as was the health of 
 their excellent superintendent, who, a father to them in 
 counsel and admonition, had always treated them as 
 gentlemen, though temporarily filling unpretending 
 positions. 
 
 Lastly was toasted the health of the gentleman who 
 had done them the honour to join the entertainment, at 
 the invitation of their old friend and comrade. The 
 speaker trusted that * their honoured guest, not very long 
 since a resident in dear old Ireland, or England — sure it 
 was all one — would not immediately be reduced, he 
 meant impelled, to make choice of their healthy, manly, 
 but somewhat monotonous occupation. It was well 
 enough in its way. He, Brian O'Loghlan, was not there 
 to find fault with an honourable means of subsistence. 
 But he trusted that his young friend would make trial of 
 other colonial avocations, before betaking himself to the 
 geological experiments in which they had been lately 
 engaged. Of course he had it to fall back upon. And 
 if ever necessity compelled him, he spoke the sentiments, 
 he felt sure, of every man at the table when he said that 
 they would be charmed to welcome their esteemed though 
 but lately acquainted friend to their independent, indus- 
 trious, and ancient order of free and accepted stone- 
 breakers.' (Continued applause.) 
 
 This toast, to which Ernest 'briefly but feelingly' 
 responded, expressing his ' admiration of the institutions
 
 92 A COLOXIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 of a country which permitted access to industrial occupa- 
 tions generally esteemed as close guilds and corporations 
 in Europe, to gentlemen of culture and refinement, such 
 as his host and his friends whom he saw around him 
 that day, without detriment to their social position and 
 prospects,' closed the entertainment. 
 
 The fortunate legatee and his comrades departed to 
 seek their tent, while Ernest and the superintendent 
 remained and smoked a pipe together (the latter gentle- 
 man, at least, indulging in the narcotic), while they talked 
 over the somewhat exceptional circumstances of the 
 entertainment, and the accidental stroke of luck which 
 had occasioned it. 
 
 On the following morning they breakfasted together 
 in much comfort, and then separated, as so many pleasant 
 chance comrades are compelled to do in this life. The 
 Government official drove off in his buggy to visit 
 another line of road, while Mr. Neuchamp, full of hope 
 and rich with the gathered spoils of his late adventure, 
 paced cheerily along the high road to fortune and the 
 mystical desert interior. 
 
 Halting at mid -day by a watercourse favourably 
 situated for temporary rest and refreshment, he heard 
 the half-forgotten words of a favourite operatic air trolled 
 forth by a rich voice with unusual effect and precision. 
 Looking round for the performer, he descried, lying under 
 a noble casuarina tree, the roots of which spread halfway 
 across the little creek, a tall man, whose worn and some- 
 what shabby habiliments w^ere strongly at variance with 
 the distinction of his air and the aristocratic cast of his 
 features. Beside him was a small black camp kettle, 
 from which he had been preparing the usual traveller's 
 refreshment of ' quartpot tea.' He was smoking, of
 
 VII A colo:n^ial reformer 93 
 
 course, and as he half raised himself and saluted Ernest, 
 that observer of human nature thought he had rarely 
 seen a more striking countenance. 
 
 ' In which direction are you travelling ? ' inquired J\Ir. 
 Neuchamp. 
 
 ' Towards Nubba,' said the unknown, ' and a devilish 
 dull track it is. Do you happen, by any chance, to be 
 going there ? ' 
 
 ' My route lies past that place, I believe. As w^e are 
 both apparently on a walking tour we may as well be 
 fellow-travellers, if you have no objection.' 
 
 ' ]Most happy, I am sure,' assented the stranger, with 
 the ease of a man of the world ; ' one so rarely has the 
 pleasure of having a gentleman for a comrade in this part 
 of the creation. May I offer you some tea ? Sorry to 
 say my flask is empty.' 
 
 ' Many thanks — I prefer the tea. Perhaps, on the 
 other hand, you will make trial of part of my provender?' 
 
 Here Mr. Neuchamp exhibited an ample store of 
 solids, which he had had the foresioiit to bringj with him, 
 and the stranojer, after observing^ that the brisk air cjave 
 one a most surprising ajDpetite, luade so respectable a 
 meal that he would almost have fancied that tea and 
 tobacco had alone composed that rej^ast which he had 
 just finished. 
 
 The mid-day halt over, the newly-made acquaintances 
 took the road with great cheerfulness, and, on Ernest's 
 part, a considerable accession of spirits. 
 
 ' Here,' thought he, ' is one of those happy contretemps 
 that so rarely occur — out of books — in an old country. 
 There, if you did meet a man, under these circumstances, 
 you would be afraid to speak to him until you had 
 actually gauged his social position and standing. Here,
 
 94 A COLOXIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 now, is a gentleman evidently of culture, travel, refine- 
 ment, who, like me, ^^refers from time to time to lead 
 this half-gipsy, half-hunter life entirely for the pleasure 
 of unconventional sensations.' 
 
 For the first hour or two Mr. jSTeuchamp kept up a 
 sustained cross-fire of conversation wdth this fortunately 
 found travelling companion. Whether formerly in the 
 army or not he did not definitely state, but from certain 
 of his reminiscences and stray sentences, such as ' when 
 we took Acre,' Mr. Neuchamp thought he was not far 
 wrong in assigning him a military rank. Certainly his 
 experiences were extensive. Had been everywhere, had 
 seen everything, knew all the colonies from Xorthern 
 Queensland to South Australia, the gold-fields, the 
 stations, the cities, the law courts. How lightly and 
 airily did he touch upon these different localities and 
 institutions ! Knew London, Paris, Vienna, Florence, 
 Eome, St. Petersburg. The haute voUe of many cities 
 knew him well evidently. His whole tone and bearing 
 denoted so much ; and with an air half of philosophical 
 unconcern, half of humorous complaint against fate, he 
 confessed that he had not been lucky. 
 
 'No !' he said, 'they used to say in the old lOStli I 
 was too deuced lucky in everything else to hold honours 
 where the stakes were golden ; and so it has been with 
 me ever since. The boy who ran up the whole score of 
 social success before his beard was grown, the man whom 
 princesses fought for, and world-famed diplomates, soldiers, 
 and savants flattered, has ended thus : to find himself 
 growing old in a colony where talent and social rank are 
 mocked at if unassociated with vulgar success ; and here 
 stands John Lulworth Broughton, without a friend, a 
 coin, or a home wherein to lay his head.'
 
 VII A COLONIAL REFORMER 95 
 
 ' You shall never need repeat that indictment against 
 fate,' cried Ernest enthusiastically ; 'I, at least, can 
 discriminate between the talents and the qualities which 
 should have controlled success and the temporary obscurity 
 which ill-fortune has accorded. Trust to me in the 
 future. Is there no enterprise which we could engage in 
 jointly, where, with my capital and your experience, we 
 miglit work with mutual advantage ? ' 
 
 The stranger's haughty features assumed a different 
 expression at the mention of the word capital, and his 
 melancholy dark eye brightened as he said promptly — 
 
 ' I know a splendid run, not very far from where we 
 stand, large enough and good enough to make any man's 
 fortune. I have been prevented from occupying it 
 hitherto by want of funds, but a hundred pounds would 
 pay all expenses at present. We could then take it up 
 from Government, and it would bring in, half- stocked, 
 two or three thousand a year almost at once.' 
 
 ' Not far from here — the very thing ! ' exclaimed Mr. 
 Keuchamp, who had had nearly enough walking. "But 
 I thought that all the good land was taken up except 
 what was a long way off.' 
 
 The stranger explained that by a lucky accident he 
 had been trusted with the secret of this magnificent 
 country, which you entered by a narrow and w*ell-con- 
 cealed gorge; that the old stockman was dead who 
 discovered it, and that a beautiful, open, park-like country, 
 whenever you got through the gorge, was waiting to 
 reward the first fortunate occupants who were liberal 
 enough to meet the small but indispensable preliminary 
 disbursement. 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp thought he could see here a splendid 
 opportunity of at once making a rapid fortune, of demon-
 
 96 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 strating a rare perception of local opportunity and 
 judicious speculation, and of proving to Mr. Frankston 
 and to Antouia his ability to control colonial circum- 
 stances without a novitiate. 
 
 He could imagine old Paul saying, 'Well, Antonia, 
 my pet, you see this young friend of ours has shown us 
 all the way. Here it is, in the Herald : " Splendid 
 discovery of new country, by E. Neuchamp, Esq. Large 
 area taken up by the explorer and partner. We must 
 congratulate Mr. Neuchamp, who has not been, we 
 believe we are correct in stating, many months in 
 Australia, upon developing a masterly grasp of judicious 
 pastoral enterprise, which has left the majority of our 
 older colonists in the shade." ' 
 
 After this and other intoxicating presentiments, it 
 was finally agreed that they were to proceed to Nubba, 
 where Ernest w^as to hand Mr. Broughton his cheque for 
 a hundred pounds for outfit and preliminary expenses, 
 upon which that gentleman would at once proceed to 
 point out and put him in possession of this long-con- 
 cealed but none the less virqin and qlorious Eldorado. 
 
 With head erect and flashing eye, in which sparkled 
 the ideal lustre of imminent wealth and distinction, 
 Ernest walked on towards the small village which Mr. 
 Broughton had indicated as their probable destination for 
 the night. That accomplished individual indeed, pedes- 
 trian feats in the Oberland, South America, Norway, and 
 Novogorod notwithstanding, found it difficult to keep up 
 with his future partner — his boots, possibly, which were 
 neither new nor apparently calculated to withstand the 
 wear and tear of rough country work, prevented his 
 attaining a high rate of speed. But had Ernest been 
 less preoccupied he might have marked a sour expression
 
 VII A COLONIAL REFORMER 97 
 
 ■upon the aristocratic features, heard a savage oath, 
 vernacularly vulgar, issue from under the silken mous- 
 tache. 
 
 Soon, however, in a break of his fairy tale, while 
 he was deciding whether he should send his brother 
 Courtenay a cheque for ten thousand pounds, or surprise 
 him with a personal proffer of that amount as a Christmas 
 box, he became aware that he was outpacing his com- 
 panion from whom this golden tide of fortune was to date 
 and issue. He stopped and permitted him to come up. 
 At the same instant a horseman, in the plain but unmis- 
 takable uniform of a police trooper, rode at speed from 
 the angle of the forest track, and overtook them. 
 
 Pulling up his well-bred horse rather suddenly, he 
 fixed a keen and searching glance upon the pair. His 
 features gradually relaxed into a familiar and disrespectful 
 expression as he addressed Mr. Broughton. 
 
 ' Why, Captain ! what's come to you ? Here's the 
 whole force in a state of mobilisation from Hartly to the 
 Bogan about the last little plant of yours — and now here 
 you are, a-walking into our very arms, like a blessed 
 'possum into a blessed trap — why, I'm ashamed of you ; 
 hold up your hands.' 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp gazed upon the face of his illustrious 
 friend as this vulgar exordium was rattled off by the 
 flippant but practical man-at-arms, in wonder, consterna- 
 tion, sorrow, and expectancy. 
 
 Could it be anything but the most annoying and 
 inexplicable of mistakes, and would not this noble-minded 
 victim of blind fortune repudiate the shameful accusation 
 with scorn in every line of the stern sad features ? 
 
 He gazed long and fixedly into that face ; a deeply 
 graven expression ivas there. But it was an alien, 
 
 VOL. I H
 
 98 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 unsatisfactory expression. It showed slight contempt, 
 but habitual deference to that branch of the civil power 
 mingled with a sardonic, half- stoical, half despairing 
 resignation to ignoble circumstance. 
 
 Puzzled, doubtful, but by no means dismayed, Mr. 
 Neuchamp indignantly asked the trooper what he meant 
 by speaking insolently to his friend, Mr. Broughton — in 
 stopping him without a warrant upon the highway? 
 
 ' Mr. Howard, alias Captain, alias the Knight of Malta, 
 alias the Aide-de-Camp, alias John Lulworth Broughton, 
 is as much my friend as yours ; leastwise we know one 
 another better ; don't we. Captain ? ' 
 
 Mr. feroughton, upon whose wrists the handcuffs were 
 safely adjusted, merely nodded, upon which the trooper 
 requested Mr. Neuchamp to permit his hands to be 
 similarly fettered. 
 
 ' What ? ' said Ernest, flushing so suddenly, at the same 
 time making a stride forward, that the wary official backed 
 his horse, and taking out his revolver, presented it full at 
 his head. 
 
 ' What for ? ' said the trooper ; ' why, on suspicion, of 
 course, of being concerned with the Captain here, in the 
 Barrabri Bank robbery the other night, that all the country 
 is going mad about.' 
 
 Here the Captain found his tongue. 
 
 ' You're going mad yourself, Taylor ; the reward and 
 the mobilisation, as you call it, have been too much for 
 you. There's no evidence against me this time, nothing 
 that you could call evidence worth a rap ; and don't you 
 see that this is a gentleman just out from home, and green 
 as grass ; or he wouldn't go on foot with a thundering big 
 knapsack on his back, picking up with — ahem — shady 
 characters like me.'
 
 VII A COLONIAL REFORMER 99 
 
 ' That's all very well, Captain,' assented the trooper ; 
 ' but the cove's hair and complexion, and height, and age, 
 as was with you in the plant, and Police Gazette, corresponds 
 with the other prisoner's.' 
 
 Ernest's face, at this description of himself, was a 
 study ; so sharply engraved were the lines which indicated 
 wrath, disgust, and horror. 
 
 ' Very sorry, my man, and all that,' continued Senior- 
 Constable Taylor, who had not got the stripes for nothing, 
 ' in case your turn don't square, but you niust come before 
 the police magistrate of Boonamarran and see what he 
 thinks about it. I won't put the darbies on ye, if you'll 
 
 promise to come quietly, but by if you leave the 
 
 track for a moment I'll send a bullet through you before 
 you can say knife.' 
 
 Under this proclamation of martial law, there was 
 nothing to be done by any sane man but to submit ; so 
 Ernest made answer that he had no objection to walking 
 as far as Boonamarran, where no doubt his innocence 
 would be made clear. 
 
 In a kind of procession, therefore, was Ernest Neuchamp 
 forced, as the Captain would have said, 'by circumstances' 
 to make his appearance in the small but not wholly un- 
 important town of Boonamarran. As they passed up the 
 principal street, a very large proportion of the available 
 inhabitants must have assembled to mark their arrival at 
 the lock-up. 
 
 Behind them rode the trooper with a mingled air of 
 inflexible determination and successful daring. The 
 Captain marched in front with his manacled hands 
 almost disguised by his careless walk, remarking calmly 
 on the appearance of the town, which he criticised freely, 
 also the leading inhabitants. By his side, burning with
 
 100 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 rage and mortification, walked Ernest, feeling very like 
 a galley slave, and wondering whether there was any 
 possibility, in this strange land, of being sentenced mis- 
 takenly to a term of imprisonment. Thus feeling for the 
 first time a keen sensation of distrust for his own obstinate 
 predilections, coupled with an awakening respect for the 
 opinion of others, the time passed in varieties of mental 
 torture, till they arrived at the lock-up, a strong wooden 
 building, into a small room of which they were uncere- 
 moniously bundled, while a heavy bolt closed behind 
 them. 
 
 ' I really am extremely sorry, sir,' quoth the Captain, 
 after they were left to themselves, ' to have brought you 
 into this highly unpleasant position. But circumstances, 
 my lifelong enemies, were too strong for me; and for 
 you, too,' he added reflectively. 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp was not a vain man, though proud ; 
 above everything he was a philosophical experimentalist. 
 Under any given position he could soon have ceased to 
 struggle and rage, and have commenced to analyse, theorise, 
 and deduce. 
 
 'I ought to be so justly enraged with you,' he replied, 
 ' that any apologies would only arouse contempt. You 
 have deceived me, it appears, with a view to rob me of 
 my money, and you have been instrumental in causing, 
 for the first time in my life, the loss of my liberty. But 
 I will confine myself for the present to asking, in all 
 seriousness, why you, a man of culture and mental endow- 
 ments, having enjoyed the advantages of travel and refined 
 society, should voluntarily have lowered yourself to your 
 present surroundings by a course of vulgar and short- 
 sighted criminality ? ' 
 
 ' Well, I'll tell you the real naked truth, as far as I
 
 VII A COLONIAL REFORMER 101 
 
 know it when I see it,' said the Captain, cutting off a 
 solid piece of negrohead tobacco and putting it into his 
 mouth. * I have had an immense quantity of what the 
 world calls advantages, there's no denying, and yet they 
 would have been all well exchanged for one simple bit of 
 luck, which I did not happen to possess — that of being 
 born honest ! That, I distinctly state and afi&rm, I was 
 not. Whatever the reason is, I was always an infernal 
 rogue from the time I could write myself man, and long 
 before. Whether the faculty of passionate and sensuous 
 enjoyment was intensified in my idiosyncracy, while at 
 the same time my reasoning powers were feeble and my 
 conscientiousness absolutely nil — I can't say. The fact, 
 unde de7nvata, remained (and a fait gdn^rateur, as the 
 French say, it was), when I wanted anything it always 
 occurred to me with restless force, that the shortest, most 
 natural, and obvious way to possession was to steal, take, 
 and unlawfully carry away the same. I should have 
 made a famous king ; in him annexation is a virtue of the 
 highest order. As a general, could I have overleaped the 
 earlier grades, I should have gone amid shouting thousands 
 to an honoured grave, for I am cool and cheerful in danger, 
 and a demon when my slow blood is fairly up. But as 
 the son of an eminent clergyman, as a mere unit in refined 
 society, my sphere was wretchedly circumscribed. Society 
 became my foe, my fatal foe. Young man, if you hurl 
 yourself upon society, she laughs at the superincumbent 
 hostile weight. If she merely reclines upon you, moral 
 asphyxia results. I have, mind, cast away home, friends, 
 love, honour, position. If I hadn't such an infernally 
 good constitution, death would have long ago squared the 
 account. I am sorry when I think of it. But present 
 troubles once over — "Libem, libem ! " '
 
 102 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 Here he broke forth into the great drinking song, 
 which he trolled out until the massive timbers of the 
 building echoed. 
 
 ' And your intention, as far as I was concerned ? ' 
 asked Ernest, unable to refrain a certain toleration for the 
 ' larcenous epicurean.' 
 
 'Well, I couldn't resist trying to appropriate your 
 hundred pounds. You threw it at a fellow's head, as it 
 were. It was partly your own fault.' 
 
 ' My own fault,' echoed Ernest, in astonishment, ' and 
 why, may I ask ? ' 
 
 ' When people are very very imprudent, they, as the 
 Methodists phrase it, " put temptation' in the way " of other 
 folks, not afflicted, let us say, with severe morals. Now 
 why don't you ride a decent horse when you're travelling, 
 like a gentleman ? ' 
 
 ' But surely a man may walk in a new country, if he 
 likes ? ' pleaded Ernest, half amused at his arguing the 
 question so seriously with a swindler and convicted felon. 
 
 'Excuse me,' answered the man of experience, with 
 the readiness of a practical advocate ; ' you might drive a 
 tax-cart down Eotten Eow, or wear a wideawake and a 
 tourist suit at a flower-show, as far as the power to do so 
 is concerned. But you wouldn't do it, because it would be 
 unfashionable, therefore incorrect. It's unfashionable for 
 a gentleman to walk in this country, therefore nobody 
 does walk on a journey, except labourers, drunkards, 
 persons of bad character like me, or inexperienced young 
 gentlemen like you.' 
 
 ' Many thanks for your neat explanation and whole- 
 some advice,' said Ernest. ' I don't know whether I shall 
 not act upon it.' 
 
 ' And may you better rede the advice than ever did
 
 VII A COLONIAL REFORMER , 103 
 
 the adviser/ quoted the Captain gravely, sonorously, and 
 in final conclusion. 
 
 Next morning, after experiencing what fully justified 
 Clarence's exclamation, Mr. Neuchamp and his fellow- 
 traveller were ' haled ' before the stipendiary magistrate, 
 who looked at Mr. Neuchamp in a manner so unsym- 
 pathising that it hurt his feelings. 
 
 ' John Lulworth Broughton,' said the trooper, in a loud 
 matter-of-fact voice, ' alias Captain Spinks, alias the 
 Knight of Malta, and Ernest Neuchum appears before 
 this court, in custody, your worship, charged with robbery 
 under arms. How do you plead ? ' 
 
 'Not guilty, of course,' replied the Captain, with a 
 shocked expression. 
 
 * Not guilty,' said Ernest, in an anxious and horrified 
 tone ; ' I wish to explain, I am travelling to the station 
 of ' 
 
 ' Any statement that you or the other prisoner may 
 wish to make, after the evidence is complete, I shall be 
 happy to hear. Until then,' said the police magistrate, 
 with mild but icy intonation, ' I must request you to keep 
 silence, except when cross-examining the witnesses for 
 the Crown.' 
 
 Ernest felt outraged and choked. The evidence then 
 being ' gone into,' showed how a certain bank manager at 
 a lonely branch had been awakened at midnight by two 
 men masked and armed ; one tall, dark, spoke with a 
 fashionable drawl; the other middle-sized, active, fair- 
 haired, with blue eyes, about twenty-four, spoke rather 
 slowly. Here the police magistrate, the clerk of the 
 bench, the spectators, and the other police constable turned 
 their heads towards Mr. Neuchamp. 'Speaks like a 
 native. Ah ! very strong point.'
 
 104 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 Witness after witness being examined piled up the 
 evidence that a tall dark man and a middle-sized fair one 
 had been seen at the scene of the robbery, near the place, 
 the day before, the day after. Every sort of circum- 
 stantial evidence was forthcoming, except a link or two 
 which the jury might or might not consider necessary. 
 The magistrate thought a primd-facie case for committal 
 had been made out. He was commencing the impressive 
 formula — 'Having heard the evidence, do you wish to 
 make any statement, etc. etc., when a telegram was put 
 into the hand of the senior constable of police. 
 
 Eeading it rapidly, and handing it to the police magis- 
 trate, that official said : ' In consequence of the information 
 just received from my superior ofticer, by telegram, I beg 
 to apply for the discharge of the younger prisoner.' The 
 police magistrate acceded. Thereupon the door or the gate 
 of the dock was opened and Mr. Neuchamp, permitted 
 egress through the same, much like a rabbit from a hutch, 
 was formally discharged. 
 
 ' It would appear,' said the stipendiary magistrate,' from 
 the latest information in the hands of the police, that an 
 instance of mistaken identity has in your case occurred, 
 leading to your — a — apprehension and detention, which, 
 under the circumstances, I regret. Senior -Constable 
 Taylor was fully justified in arresting you as the com- 
 panion of a notoriously bad and desperate character' 
 (here the Captain smiled serenely, and stroked his 
 moustache) — 'in arresting you on suspicion of felony. 
 It appears that the person described in the Police Gazette, 
 and whom you unfortunately appear to resemble, has 
 been arrested, and is now in custody at Warren. You 
 are therefore discharged, and as you are a young man of 
 respectable appearance, I trust that it will be a warning
 
 VII A COLONIAL REFORMER 105 
 
 to you ; a — that is to say, as to the choice of your 
 associates. John Lulworth Broughton, you stand com- 
 mitted to take your trial at the next Quarter Sessions,' 
 etc. etc. 
 
 The telegram which had so suddenly and effectually 
 changed the current of Ernest's destiny ran as follows : 
 ' From Sub-Inspector Hawker, Warren, to the officer in 
 charge of police, Boonamarran. The right man. Captain 
 Spinks's mate, arrested here, 4 a.m. Discharge fair 
 prisoner forthwith.' 
 
 Ernest left the court certainly a sadder and a pre- 
 sumably wiser man, and sought a private room in the 
 chief inn, having some difficulty in evading the invitations 
 to liquor pressed upon him by the chief inhabitants, who, 
 having fully agreed that if ever a man looked guilty he 
 did, were anxious now, in reactionary regret, to make him 
 amends for their unfounded and evil thoughts. 
 
 Among the persons firmly, perhaps unceremoniously, 
 repelled, was a pale young man with longish hair and an 
 intelligent countenance. This personage sat down and 
 hastily wrote a report of the proceedings, in the course of 
 which he dilated upon the hardship of an untried man 
 suffering the degrading and mental torture to which, if 
 innocent, he is perforce subjected, in the present state 
 of the law. This was at once forwarded to a leading 
 metropolitan journal. A telegram of a sensational nature 
 was also despatched for the evening paper : ' Arrest of a 
 gentleman newly arrived, for robbery under arms. The 
 case broke down. He is now at liberty.'
 
 CHAPTEE VIII 
 
 When a man has suffered the indignity of actual incar- 
 ceration, a savour of irrevocable dishonour is apt to cling 
 to the sensation, however innocent the victim may sub- 
 sequently be proved. Some robes once soiled cannot be 
 washed white. The bloom cannot be replaced upon the 
 blushing fruit. And Ernest sorroAvfully reflected that, 
 for all future time, if one of those ruthless vivisectors, a 
 cross-examining barrister, chose to ask him, as a witness 
 before a crowded court, whether or not he had ever been 
 in gaol charged with highway robbery, he would be com- 
 pelled to answer ' yes,' with the privilege of explanation 
 after that categorical answer, of course. Much regretful 
 and indignant thought passed through his mind before 
 lunch. The last ISTeuchamp that had heard a prison door 
 barred behind him was enclosed by a troop of Ironside 
 dragoons in the donjon at Neuchampstead, while they 
 merrily revelled above, and praised the malignant's ale 
 and serving - maids. That was honourable captivity. 
 But to be boxed up in ' the logs ' of a bush township, side 
 by side with a confessed robber and swindler 1 It was 
 hard ! The star of the Neuchamps was for a time under 
 an evil influence. However, after a remarkably good lunch 
 and a bottle of Bass (dear to England's subalterns in every
 
 CHAP. VIII A COLONIAL REFORMER 107 
 
 land of exile) a more cheerful and philosophical frame of 
 mind succeeded. After all, anybody might be arrested by 
 mistake. No one would ever hear of it, any more than of 
 the detention of Livingstone for a day by King Unilury 
 on the Moombitonja. His friends at Morahmee would 
 never discover it, that was as certain as anything could be. 
 
 He ' had a great mind,' as the phrase runs, to buy a 
 horse, and so relieve himself, for the future, from all risk 
 of evil communications, and other misfortune, which society 
 seemed, with one accord, to trace directly to his using his 
 own proper legs for purposes of locomotion. But he was a 
 true reformer in this one particular. He was not less obsti- 
 nate than enthusiastic, and he told himself, as he had com- 
 menced his journey on foot, that he would so end it, and 
 complete the distance to Garrandilla in spite of all the 
 strange people in this very strange country. He had his 
 own secret doubts as to whether he would need much per- 
 suasion to ride or drive whenever he returned to Sydney. 
 But in the meanwhile, and until he was fairly landed at 
 Garrandilla 
 
 Having plentifully refreshed himself, and even provided 
 something edible in case of accidents, he accordingly left 
 town very early next morning, shouldering his knapsack, 
 as usual, and cleared off about ten miles of his journey 
 in the comparative coolness of early morn. 
 
 Here he discovered a friendly creek, possessing shade 
 and water, so flinging himself on the sward, he addressed 
 himself to some corned beef with a vigour unabated by 
 previous misfortunes. 
 
 Preoccupied with these minute but necessary details, 
 he did not observe that another man had, like him, 
 selected the spot as appropriate to rest, if not to refresh- 
 ment. The personage whom he so suddenly descried was
 
 108 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 not pedestrian ising, like him, as two serviceable roadsters 
 grazed within a few yards, their fore legs confined by the 
 short chain attached to two leather straps, which had more 
 than once attracted his attention in his travels. In one 
 respect the new traveller differed from any other wayfarer 
 whom Mr. Neuchamp had as yet encountered; for, in 
 spite of the inconveniences to which his late incautious 
 acceptance of companionship had subjected him, he could 
 not refrain from a close examination of the stranger. 
 The unknown was apparently not about to make or to 
 drink a pot of tea. Neither was he smoking, preparing 
 to smoke, nor obviously having just finished smoking. 
 
 ' Good -morning/ said this person, bending a pair of 
 exceedingly keen gray eyes upon Ernest. ' Travelling 
 early, like myself. Bound for Nabba ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ! ' answered Ernest. 
 
 ' Going any farther ? ' 
 
 * As far as Garrandilla,' he replied. 
 
 ' Humph ! ' said the new acquaintance. ' I suppose 
 you were at Boonamarran last night. I left Boree station 
 early, and am going on as soon as my horses have had 
 another half-hour's picking at this patch of good feed.' 
 
 ' Have you breakfasted yet ? ' inquired Ernest. 
 
 ' "Well, I'm not particular about a meal or two,' cheer- 
 fully replied the stranger. ' I can always find a salad, 
 and with a crust of bread I can manage to get along.' 
 
 ' Salad in the bush ? ' asked Ernest, with astonishment. 
 ' I never heard of any before.' 
 
 ' There's always plenty, if you know where to look 
 for it,' gravely answered the stranger ; * only men in this 
 country are a deal more fond of making for the nearest 
 public -house than of studying the book of nature, and 
 learning what it teaches them. No man need fast in
 
 VIII A COLONIAL REFORMER 10^ 
 
 this country if he knows anything about the herbage and 
 the plants he's always riding and trampling over.' 
 
 ' You amaze me ! ' said Ernest ; ' I always thought 
 people ate nothing but meat in this country.' 
 
 ' When you've been longer in Australia ' (Ernest 
 groaned) ' you'll find out, by degrees, that there's a deal 
 of difference in people here, much as, I suppose, there is 
 in other countries. See here,' he continued, taking up 
 and cropping with great relish a succulent-looking bunch 
 of greens, ' here's a real good wholesome cabbage — warrigal 
 cabbage, the shepherds call it. Here's another,' uprooting 
 a long dark-green fibrous-looking wild endive. ' A^ong 
 as you've these two and marshmallow sprout, you can't 
 starve. Many a pound it's saved me, and you may take 
 my word for it there's more money made in this country 
 by saving than by profits. I suppose you're going to 
 learn colonial experience at Garrandilla.' 
 
 ' How can he know that ? ' thought Mr. Neuchamp. 
 ' These people seem to guess correctly about everything 
 concerning me, while I am continually deceived about them.' 
 
 ' I am just bound on that errand,' he answered, 
 ' though I cannot tell how you arrived at the fact.' 
 
 ' Well, I didn't suppose you were going as a shepherd, 
 or a stockman, or a knock-about man,' said the stransjer 
 carelessly, ' so you must have been going to learn the 
 ways of the country.' 
 
 ' Do you know Mr. Jedwood ? ' inquired Ernest. 
 
 ' Yes ; heard of him. That's a good manager ; sharp 
 hand ; teach you all about stock ; make you work while 
 you're there, I expect.' 
 
 ' I don't mind that ; I didn't come up into the bush 
 for anything else. It's not exactly the place one would 
 pick for choice for lounging in, is it ? '
 
 110 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 ' I don't know about that. I'm never contented 
 anywhere else/ said the unknown. 
 
 'And I suppose you're looking out for an overseer's 
 situation,' inquired Ernest, exercising his right of cross- 
 examination in turn. He thought by the stranger's 
 economical ideas that he could only be upon his pro- 
 motion, and not yet arrived at the enviable and lucrative 
 position of ' super,' as he had heard the appointment 
 called. 
 
 The stranger smiled faintly in his own grave and 
 reflective fashion, and then, leaning on one elbow and 
 pulling up a tuft of Anthistiria australis, which he 
 chewed meditatively, said, * Well, I have jobs of over- 
 seeing now and then.' 
 
 * And you expect to save enough money some day,' 
 demanded Ernest, rather elated by the success of his hit, 
 ' I shouldn't wonder, to go into a small station, or leave 
 off work altogether ? ' 
 
 ' Some of these days — some of these days,' repeated 
 the stranger, staring absently before him, ' I expect to 
 have what I call enough. But you can't be sure of any- 
 thing.' 
 
 ' In the meanwhile you save all you can,' laughed 
 Ernest. 
 
 ' It's no laughing matter,' said the stranger ; ' if you 
 don't save you waste your money, if you waste your 
 money you get into debt, if you get into debt you get so 
 close to ruin that any day he may put his paw down 
 and crush you or lame you for life.' 
 
 ' That's a solemn view to take of a little debt,' said 
 Ernest, ' but you are right on the whole ; and when I 
 come into a station of my own I will be awfully saving.' 
 
 'That's right; you can't go wrong if you act up to
 
 VIII A COLONIAL REFORMER 111 
 
 that. Now, see here, we're about fifteen miles from 
 Nubba.' 
 
 Here the stranger raised himself from his recumbent 
 position, exhibiting to Ernest a tall, well-made, sinewy 
 frame, with a keen handsome visage half covered with a 
 bushy brown beard. The eyes were perhaps the most 
 remarkable feature in the face; they were moderate in 
 size, but wonderfully clear and piercing. There was the 
 rare look of absolute unbroken health about the man's 
 whole figure which one sees chiefly in children and very 
 young persons. 
 
 ' I've a second horse and saddle,' continued the tall 
 stranger ; * I generally take a couple when I'm travelling, 
 they're company for one another, and for me too. So if 
 you are going by Nubba, just you ride this roan horse, 
 and we'll jog on together.' 
 
 Ernest considered for a moment. He had paid de sa 
 personne for over-hasty acquaintanceship. But he could 
 not for a moment distrust the steady eye and truthful 
 visage of the man who made this friendly offer. He was 
 interested, too, in his talk, and deeming him to be of a 
 rank and condition that he could in some way repay for 
 the obligation, he accepted it frankly. 
 
 ' Very well,' he said, ' I shall be glad to go with you 
 as far as Nubba. I suppose your horse won't be any- 
 thing the worse for me and my knapsack.' 
 
 'Not he. We'll saddle up. I have a good way to 
 go before sundown.' 
 
 'May I ask to whom I am indebted for the accom- 
 modation ? ' inquired Ernest. ' My name is Ernest Neu- 
 champ.' 
 
 'Well, Mr. — a — Smith,' said the stranger, with a 
 slight appearance of hesitation. * It don't much matter
 
 112 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 about names, except you have to write a cheque or pay 
 a bill. Now then, here's your horse ; he's quiet, and an 
 out-and-out ambler.' 
 
 After walking for several days, it was a pleasant sen- 
 sation enough when Ernest, a fair horseman and respect- 
 able performer in the hunting-field, found himself on the 
 back of a free easy-paced hackney again. The roan horse 
 paced along at a rate which he was obliged to moderate, 
 to avoid shaking his benefactor, whose horse did not walk 
 very brilliantly, into a jelly. 
 
 ' This is my morning horse,' said Mr. Smith, slightly 
 out of breath — though he sat his horse with a peculiar 
 instinctive ease, not alone as if he had been accustomed 
 to a horse all his days, but as if he had been born upon 
 one. ' When you are going a longish journey, you gen- 
 erally have one clever hack and one not quite so good. 
 Well, what you ought to do is to ride the roughest one 
 in the morning, while youre fresh, and in the afternoon 
 take the fast or easy one, and you finish the day com- 
 fortably.' 
 
 ' Indeed,' said Ernest, ' that never struck me before ; 
 but in England we don't ride far, and never more than 
 one horse at a time.' 
 
 'Eine country, England,' said Mr. Smith musingly. 
 ^ I was reading in Hallam's Middle Ages the other day 
 about these Barons making war upon one another. 
 They must ^ave been a good deal like the squatters 
 here, only they didn't get filled for assaults at the courts 
 of petty sessions, and they had their own lock-ups, and 
 could put a chap in the logs or in their own cellar, and 
 keep him there. I should like to see England.' 
 
 ' Then you never have seen the old country ? ' said 
 Ernest. ' How strange it seems to see a grown English-
 
 VIII A COLOXIAL REFORMER 1 1 3 
 
 man like you, for you are one, and very like a Yorkshire- 
 man too, who has never seen the chalk cliffs and green 
 meadows. When do you intend to go ? ' 
 
 ' Some day, when I can afford it,' answered Mr. 
 Smith. 
 
 They were now going at a good journeying pace, not 
 far from five miles an hour, through an open, thinly- 
 timhered, well -grassed country. The grass was long, 
 rather dry looking, and of a grayish green. The road 
 was perfectly smooth, without stone, rut, or inequahty of 
 any kind. The day had become insensibly warmer, but 
 the air was wonderfully clear, pure, and dry. Mr. Neu- 
 champ felt sensibly exhilarated by the atmospheric tone. 
 
 ' What a grand climate,' he thought, as Mr. Smith had 
 subsided into rather an abstracted silence. 'Here we 
 have a combination of sufficient warmth for comfort and 
 high spirits, with that bracing cold of night and early 
 morning necessary to ensure appetite and energy. And 
 there are months upon months of this weather. Once 
 bring a man or woman here, with a sound and unworn 
 constitution, and they might live for ever. No wonder 
 the general tendency of the features of the country-born 
 people is towards the Greek type. The vales and groves 
 of Hellas had no brighter sky than this deep azure, no 
 purer air, no softer whispering breeze.' 
 
 After this slight sesthetical reverie Mr. T^euchamp fell 
 a wondering as to the precise social status of his pre- 
 occupied but accommodatiug companion. Rendered wary 
 by previous mistakes, he bestowed great care and caution 
 upon his analysis, and after a most judicial summing-up, 
 decided in his own mind that Mr. Smith was a working 
 overseer, with aspirations superior to his present position, 
 which, from his economical habits and self-denying prin- 
 
 VOL. I I
 
 114 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 ciples, lie would at some distant period realise. ' Yes/ 
 said Mr. ISTeuchamp to himself, ' I shall see him some day 
 with a nice little station of his own and four or five 
 thousand sheep. He will of course be able to work up 
 from that. But how pleasant it will be to visit him 
 some day and behold his honest pride at having success- 
 fully surmounted all his difficulties and triumphantly 
 landed himself upon his own property ! How we shall 
 laugh over to-day's salads and wise saws.' Here Ernest 
 woke up from his Alnaschar musings by which the de- 
 served greatness was to be bestowed upon Mr. Smith. 
 That individual, all unconscious apparently of his im- 
 minent and triumphant pastoral profits, called out — 
 
 ' Do you see that rise with the plain beyond ? Well, 
 Nubba's about a mile the other side. I'm going forty 
 miles farther, so I must have something to eat before we 
 start. Come and have dinner, or whatever you call it, 
 with me.' 
 
 They rode into the bush town together. The usual 
 wide street or two ; the straggling shops and cottages ; 
 at each corner a large pretentious store or hotel, a bullock 
 dray, a buggy, a horseman or two, a score of foot-pas- 
 sengers, the incoming mail with four horses and five 
 lamps, made up the visible traffic and population. Forest 
 land had been monotonously prevalent before they reached 
 the town ; a vast, apparently endless plain, the first Mr. 
 Neuchamp had ever seen, stretched beyond it to the 
 horizon. As they rode up to a balconied and two-storied 
 brick hotel he noticed a new ecclesiastical building, the 
 architecture of which contrasted strangely with that of 
 the majority. His educated eye was attracted. 
 
 ' What a nice church — Early English too ; I never 
 expected to see such a building here.'
 
 VIII A COLONIAL REFORMER 115 
 
 ' Yes/ said Mr. Smith uninterestedly, ' looks neat and 
 strong ; see they've finished it since I passed this way 
 last.' 
 
 ' It has a decidedly Anglican look, now one examines 
 it. Quite a treat to see snch a building in the wilder- 
 ness. Do you happen to belong to the Church of Eng- 
 land, Mr. Smith ? ' 
 
 ' Well, I may say — that is, I believe I'm a Protestant ; 
 I don't know about any denomination in particular. 
 There's good men in all of them. I respect a man 
 who does the work well that he believes in, and is paid 
 for doing. That's my view of the matter.' 
 
 ' But the glorious tenets of the Eeformation to which 
 the English Church has ever held firmly ought to com- 
 mend its teachings to every open-minded intelligent 
 man,' said Ernest, a little moved. 
 
 ' I can't say,' said Mr. Smith slowly ; ' I don't know 
 if we should believe in old Harry the Eighth much in 
 the present day. He wouldn't quite do for us out here, 
 though I reckon him a grand Englishman in many ways. 
 Here's the inn, and I'm not above owning I'm ready for 
 a chop.' 
 
 The horses were put into the stable ; Mr. Neuchamp 
 conveyed his knapsack into a bedroom, and in a com- 
 paratively short time joined Mr. Smith at one of the 
 most tempting meals he had lately encountered. 
 
 It was past mid-day, and nothing in the way of 
 disparagement could have been fairly said against the 
 appetite of either gentleman. ' What will you take, beer 
 or wine ? ' asked Mr. Smith, ringing the bell as they sat 
 down. 
 
 Ernest thought pale ale not inappropriate, though he 
 wondered at his theoretically economical friend being so
 
 116 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 luxurious in practice. ' Just the way with all these 
 bushmen,' he thought. ' This poor fellow will have to go 
 without something for this ; but I won't hurt his feelings 
 by refusing to join him.' 
 
 ' Bring in some bottled beer, then/ said Mr. Smith. 
 The waiter flew to execute his command. 
 
 'Here,' thought Ernest, 'is another example of the 
 superior sympathy of colonial manners. Here is the poor 
 overseer, working his way up in the world, and he is 
 treated with as much deference as if he were a wealthy 
 man. There is nothing like a colony for the repression 
 of vulgar servility to mere wealth.' 
 
 Here the waiter, bearing beer, reappeared. 
 
 ' I don't take anything but tea myself,' said Mr. 
 Smith, 'but to those who are used to it cool bitter beer 
 goes well in any kind of weather. Anything is better 
 than the confounded hard stuff.' 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp did not comprehend whether the latter 
 deleterious compound was a solid or a liquid, but he was 
 annoyed at drinking at the expense of a man unable to 
 bear the cost, and who did not keep him company in the 
 consumption of the liquor. 
 
 ' I wouldn't have had anything but tea if I had known 
 that was your tipple too,' he said. ' I'm not averse to 
 Good Templarism in the desert, and can live on coffee as 
 well as a Bedouin Arab. You must come to my place some 
 day when I have one, and we'll drink tea till all's blue.' 
 
 ' Very well,' said Smith. ' I'm passing Garrandilla — 
 shall I say you're coming along by degrees, and will be 
 there some day ? ' 
 
 ' Just so,' said Ernest ; ' there's no necessity for hurry. 
 Tell Mr. Jedwood that, picking up colonial experience as 
 I go along, I shall be there within a month.'
 
 VIII A COLONIAL KEFORMER 117 
 
 ' Well, good-bye/ said Mr. Smith ; ' I daresay we shall 
 see each other again. Don't you go and waste your 
 money, mind that, and you'll be a big squatter some day.' 
 
 ' I don't know about that,' said Ernest ; ' I don't so 
 much want to make money, you know, as to do some 
 good in the land.' 
 
 ' That's quite right,' said Mr. Smith, grasping his hand 
 with the hearty grip of the man of whole heart and 
 strong will, ' but you try and make some money first. 
 People won't believe in your opinions unless you show 
 them that you can make money to begin with ; after that 
 you can say anything, and teach and preach as much as 
 you like ; and if you want to hold your own in any line 
 you fancy, don't you go and waste your money, as I said 
 before. Good-bye.' 
 
 The horses had been brought round ; Mr. Smith, 
 rather inconsistently, gave the highly respectful groom 
 half a crown after this economical homily, and mounting 
 the roan horse touched the other with the bridle rein, 
 and ambled off at the rate of six miles an hour. \ 
 
 'Good -hearted fellow. Smith,' said Mr. Neuchamp 
 expressively to the landlord, who with a select part of 
 the townspeople had paid Mr. Smith the compliment of 
 assembling to see him off ; ' hope he'll get on in the world ; 
 I feel sure he deserves it.' 
 
 ' Get on in the world, sir ! ' echoed the landlord, in 
 tones of wild amaze ; ' who do you mean, sir ? ' 
 
 'Why, Mr. Smith, of course, the gentleman who has 
 just ridden away,' said Ernest, rather tartly. ' He is a 
 most economical but estimable and intelligent person, and 
 I feel convinced that he will get on, and have a station 
 of his own before many years.' 
 
 ' Mr. Smith ! a station of his own 1 ' said the landlord
 
 118 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 in faint tones, as of one preparing to swoon. ' Do you 
 know who you're a-talkin' of, sir ? why, that's Habstinens 
 Levison, Hesquire, the richest man in Australia. Station 
 of his own ! Good lor — ('scuse me, sir, you ain't long 
 from 'ome, sir ?) ; why, he's got thirty stations^ sir, with 
 more than a hundred thousand head of cattle, and half a 
 million of sheep ! So I've heard tell, leastwise.' 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp thought it would not be inappropriate 
 if he fainted after this astounding revelation. He had 
 heard Mr. Frankston tell a story or two of the ^vealthy 
 and eccentric Abstinens Levison, and here he had met 
 him in the flesh, and had been rather proud of his pene- 
 tration in summing him up as an overseer on his promo- 
 tion, who had saved a few hundred pounds and would 
 be a squatter before he died. 
 
 ' Mr. Levison was here one day, sir,' continued the 
 landlord, ' callin' hisself Smith, or Jones, or something ; 
 he don't want to be w^orrited by charity-agents and such ; 
 when the clergyman spotted him and asks him for some- 
 thing towards the Church of Hengiand there — 'andsome 
 building, ain't it, sir? — what I call respectable and 
 substantial — he writes him out a cheque very quiet and 
 crumples it up and gives it 'im ; when he looks at it 
 outside, blest if it warn't for five hundred pounds ! ' 
 
 ' I suppose the reverend gentleman was contented wath 
 that,' said Ernest, thinking of the stranger's non-committal 
 remarks as they passed the same building. 
 
 ' Not he — parsons ain't never contented, 'specially those 
 as has a turn for begging for a good object — they say. 
 Next time he passes through, our reverend thought he'd 
 touch him a bit more. "Mr. Levison," says he, "this 
 here beauteous structure as you've so magnificently con- 
 tributed to, ain't got no lightning-conductor, and it's a
 
 VIII A COLONIAL REFORMER 119 
 
 pity such a pooty building should be hinjured by the 
 hangry helements," says he. " Look here/' says Levison, 
 " I've helped you to build the church, and given my 
 share ; if God Almighty chooses to knock it down again, 
 He can do so, it's no business of mine any further," he 
 says.' 
 
 Ernest thought this very like one of Levison's reflec- 
 tive, unprejudiced speeches, and could imagine his saying 
 it without any feeling of irreverence. Five hundred 
 pounds without a word, unobtrusively, hardly caring to use 
 his own well-known name for fear of the drawbacks and 
 disabilities of proverbial wealth. ' A most extraordinary 
 man truly,' thought Ernest — 'simjjle, strong, manifestly 
 of the true hunter type ; a man given to lone journeyings 
 through the wilderness ; fond of preserving his incognito, 
 and of the small, wellnigh incredible economies which 
 speak to him of his earlier life.' Now, Mr. Neuchamp 
 saw the secret of the ultra-respectful bearing of the 
 servants and landlord of the inn to the owner of a couple 
 of millions of acres, leasehold, and of more sheep than 
 Esterhazy, and more cattle than a score of Mexican 
 rancheros. ' He certainly is a man of unpretentious 
 demeanour,' thought Ernest. ' Whoever would have 
 guessed that he was so tremendous a proprietor ! " Don't 
 you go for to w^aste your money." Was that the way he 
 had made the nucleus of this colossal fortune ? and did 
 the occasional saving of a meal, and the utilising of the 
 edible plants of the plain and forest dell, go to swell the 
 rills which joined their streams of profit into the great 
 river of his prosperity ? ' Ernest Neuchamp all but 
 resolved to give up speculating upon the character and 
 professions of these provokingly unintelligible colonists, 
 to believe Avhat he saw — even that, with deduction and
 
 120 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap, viii 
 
 reason — and to ' learn and labour truly to get his own 
 living,' without constant reference to the motives and 
 practice of others engaged in the same necessary pursuit. 
 All this he for the time fully believed that he would in 
 the future carry out. But his nature, with its passionate 
 proclivities for intellectual research, continued to whisper 
 of regions of territory and character yet unexplored, and 
 to beckon the ardent champion of light and truth 
 forward even yet, though clouds of distrust and disap- 
 pointment clustered round his path. 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp decided to stay where he was that 
 evening, and to take a strictly impartial and prosaic survey 
 of the town and environs.
 
 CHAPTEE IX 
 
 The town of Nubba was a fair specimen of Australian 
 settlement that gradually grows and bourgeons on a favour- 
 able spot, where highroads pass and converge. Here there 
 had been, primarily, a ford of the occasionally flooded 
 river. The teams, bound from or for the far interior, 
 camped upon the broad flat made by the semicircular 
 sweep of the river, and so established it as a stage and a 
 resting-place. Then a reflective mail-driver built a public- 
 house, doubtful but inevitable precursor in all colonial 
 communities of civilisation, even of the organised teaching 
 of Christianity. Then a blacksmith's shop, a butcher's, 
 a baker's, followed ; in due course a second inn, a pound, 
 appeared ; finally a bridge was built ; and Nubba repre- 
 sented an established fact, named, inhabited, and fairly 
 started in the competitive race with other Anglo- Saxon 
 cities, walled and unwalled. 
 
 Still further progress. Anon it boasted a full-blown 
 municipality, wdth a mayor, aldermen, a tow-n clerk, rate- 
 payers, all the ordinary British machinery for self-govern- 
 ment. The streets were aligned, metalled, and culverted ; 
 the approaches to the town cleared and levelled ; several 
 stores, two flour mills, three banks, four churches, ten 
 hotels, and scores of intermediate edifices, including a
 
 122 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 massive gaol, all built of stone, arose. A resident police 
 magistrate reigned, having jurisdiction over three hundred 
 square miles, assisted by neighbouring country justices. 
 Strict, not stern, they were a terror to evildoers, and no 
 particular laxity of legal obligation was permitted the 
 lieges on account of their distance from the metropolis. 
 Let but so much as a Chinaman or a blackfellow be slain 
 by chance, medley, or otherwise, or a calf stolen, at the 
 extreme limit of this far -stretching territory, and all 
 actors and participators were tried, committed, or dis- 
 charged, as the case might be. The costly and august 
 machinery of the law was put in motion with the same 
 impassive exactitude as if the offenders resided in Middle- 
 sex or Devonshire. 
 
 'There,' said Mr. Xeuchamp, possessed of these facts, 
 and indeed having experienced in his own person the un- 
 relaxing grip of the law, ' is the precise point of difference 
 between the state of society in English and other com- 
 munities. In other lands, notably in America, the vast 
 distances and what are superficially called the rude 
 circumstances of early settlement, are permitted to condone 
 infringements upon the social rights. When these become 
 too flagrant Judge Lynch interferes, and rude justice, or 
 injustice, is done. In the meantime, right has often 
 suffered irrevocably at the hands of might. But an 
 Ensflishman, in what far land soever under the flao; of his 
 country, suffers under no such policy of expediency. He 
 carries his law with him. He relies for protection of life 
 and property upon the Queen's Government, to which. he 
 has for his life long appealed in his hour of need, and 
 never in vain ; and he generally receives justice, whether 
 he be in the heart of a continent or in a populous and 
 accessible seaport.'
 
 IX 
 
 A COLONIAL REFORMER 123 
 
 Southward of the future city, Mr. Neuchamp observed 
 farms, orchards, enclosed pasture-lands — all the signs of 
 a thriving agricultural district, — great stacks of grain and 
 hay, fields of maize, pigs, and poultry in profusion ; while 
 the steam flour mills, wdiose mechanical whirr and throb 
 ceased not, night or day, showed that the supply of the 
 staff of life w^as large and continuous. Every farm had 
 been but recently occupied, and yet on all sides fencing, 
 building, girdling trees, the manifold acts of agriculture 
 combined with pasture, were proceeding energetically. 
 The land was richer, the timber more dense, and possibly 
 the climate more temperate and humid than the northerly 
 division following the downward course of the river 
 exhibited. 
 
 In this direction the metalled road after a couple of 
 miles abruptly terminated, the way thenceforth continuing 
 by a broad Indian-like trail, which led towards the fervid 
 north. Few trees were seen after this immediate vicinity 
 of the towm was quitted, and the immense plain lost itself 
 in a soft and silvery haze wdiich enveloped the far distance 
 and spread to the horizon. 
 
 ' Well,' soliloquised Ernest, ' this is perhaps not exactly 
 the place a half-pay officer would come to or a reduced 
 merchant's family, anxious to discover cheap living, good 
 society, efficient teaching, musical tuition, and an agreeable 
 climate, in perfect combination. But even they might do 
 worse. The great secret of steady, inevitable prosperity 
 here is the wonderful cheapness of land combined with its 
 abundance. 
 
 ' What a rush would there be in Buckinghamshire, if 
 " persons about to marry," or others, could " take up," 
 that is merely mark out and occupy, as much land as 
 they pleased up to a square mile in extent, previously
 
 124 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 paying dowu " five shillings the acre " — save the 
 mark ! 
 
 'And the land is as good here, if you except the 
 choicest meadow farms. The climate is benign and 
 healthful — say it is hot during the summer, fewer clothes 
 are wanted ; the water is pure and plentiful ; firewood 
 costs nothing. The forest is clear of underwood, and 
 park-like ; you do not need to hew yourself an opening 
 out of an impenetrable wood, as in Canada. The chmate 
 and natural advantages of the land constitute an income 
 in themselves. When I think of the severely tasked 
 lives, the scanty, often dismal, outlook of our labouring 
 classes, I am filled with wonder that they do not emigrate 
 in a body. " To the northward all is " plain.' 
 
 Here therefore Mr. Xeuchamp observed but faint 
 signs of civilisation. The pastoral age had returned. 
 Great droves of cattle, vast flocks of sheep, alone travelled 
 this endless trail The mail, of course, dusty and of 
 weather-beaten aspect, occasionally rattled in with sun- 
 burned and desert-worn passengers from the inner deserts. 
 But few stock were visible on the plain, 'grassy and wild 
 and bare ' within sight of the town. Still, by all classes, 
 Ernest heard this apparently wild and trackless region 
 spoken of as a rich pastoral district, equal in profitable 
 trade to the agricultural division, and indeed perhaps 
 superior in the average of returns for investment. 
 
 'I am a great believer in the plough myself,' he 
 thought, 'but I suppose these people know something 
 about their own affairs.' 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp was beginning to derive- practical 
 benefit from his experiences. This was a great con- 
 cession for him. 
 
 Next mornino- havinof ascertained his line of route,
 
 IX A COLOXIAL KEFORMER 125 
 
 and that Garrandilla was about two hundred and fifty 
 miles distant, Ernest shouldered his knapsack and pre- 
 pared to finish his little walk. 
 
 ' It's a lucky thing that there are no Eed Indians or 
 wild beasts on this particular war-path/ thought he, as 
 he left the town behind him and was conscious of 
 becoming a speck upon the vast and lonely plain. ' I 
 feel horribly unprotected. Even an old shepherd might 
 rob me, if he had a rusty gun. I might as well have 
 carried my revolver, but the weight was a consideration. 
 How grand this sandy turf is to walk upon. I feel as if 
 I could walk all day. Not a hill in sight either, or, 
 apparently, a stone. I can imagine some people thinking 
 the scene monotonous.' 
 
 Such a thought would have occurred to many minds ; 
 but there was no likelihood of such a feeling possessing 
 Ernest Neuchamp. To him the strange salsolaceous 
 plants, so succulent and nutritive, were of constant 
 interest and admiration. The new flowers of the waste 
 were freshly springing marvels. The salt lake, strewn 
 with snowy crystals and with a floor like an untrodden 
 ice-field, was a magical transformation. The crimson 
 flags of the mesembryanthemum cast on the sand, the 
 gorgeous desert flower, the strutting bustard, the tiny 
 scampering kangaroo, were all dramatic novelties. As 
 he strode on, mile after mile, at a telling elastic pace, he 
 tliought that never in his whole life had he traversed a 
 land so interesting and delightful. All the day across 
 the unending plains, sometimes intersected by small 
 watercourses. Towards nightfall, however, this very 
 unrelieved landscape became questionable. Ernest began 
 to speculate upon the chance of finding a night's lodging. 
 Not that there was any great hardship in sleeping out in
 
 126 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 the mild autumnal season, but the not having even a tree 
 to sleep under was a condition of things altogether un- 
 accustomed, unnatural, and weird in his eyes. 
 
 Just as the sun was sinking behind the far, clear, 
 delicately drawn sky line, a deep fissure was visible in 
 the plain, at the bottom of which lay plante la, a rough 
 but not uninviting hostelry. There he succeeded in 
 bestowing himself for the night. He was perhaps more 
 fatigued than at any previous time. He had been excited 
 by the prairie-like nature of the landscape, and had 
 covered more ground than on any day since he started. 
 
 The food was coarse and not well cooked, but hunger 
 and partial fatigue are unrivalled condiments. Bread, 
 meat, and the wherewithal to quench thirst are amply 
 sufficient for the real toiler, not overborne, like the 
 luxurious children of civilisation, by multifarious half- 
 digested meals. Mr. Neuchamp, therefore, on the follow- 
 ing morning, having slept magnificently and eaten a truly 
 respectable breakfast, surveyed the endless plain from 
 the back of the ravine with undiminished courage. 
 
 He amused himself by considering what sort of 
 mental existence the family who kept this wayside 
 caravanserai could possibly lead. ' They must feel a 
 good deal like Tartars,' decided he. * Here they are 
 deposited, as if dropped from the sky upon this feature- 
 less waste. They have no garden, not even a cabbage or 
 a climbing rose ; no cows, no sheep ; of course they have 
 half a dozen horses. I saw no books. They do not 
 take a newspaper. The landlady and her two daughters 
 occupy themselves in doing the housework, certainly, in a 
 very perfunctory manner. The man of the house moves 
 in and out of the bar, smokes continually, and sleeps on 
 tlie bench in the afternoons. When travellers come,
 
 IX A COLONIAL REFORMER 127 
 
 occupation, profit, society, and information are provided 
 for the whole household till the next invasion. What 
 are their liopes — what their social aims ? Some day to 
 sell out and live in Nubba, the landlord informed me. 
 How little of life suffices for the millions who possess it 
 in this curiously fashioned world of ours ! ' 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp took his departure from this un- 
 interesting lodge in the wilderness, and commenced 
 another day's travel, not altogether dissatisfied with the 
 idea that the end of another week would bring his 
 pilgrimage to a close. 
 
 Mid-day found him still tramping onward over ground 
 so accurately resembling that he crossed during his 
 previous day's journey, that if he had been carried back 
 he could not have detected the difference. A feeling of 
 great loneliness came over him, and despite the doubtful 
 success of his chance acquaintanceship), he began to wish 
 for another travelling companion, of whatever character 
 or condition in life. He had not shaped this desire 
 definitely for many minutes before, as if the attendant 
 friend was watchful, a man debouched from a shallow 
 watercourse, and walked towards him. 
 
 The new-comer carried, like himself, a species of pack 
 strapped to his shoulders, but it was rolled up after the 
 country fashion, in a form commonly known as a ' swag,' 
 containing apparently a pair of blankets and a few 
 articles of necessity. 
 
 Ernest saw in the traveller a good-looking, powerful 
 young man, patently of the ordinary type of bush natives 
 of the lower rank — a stockman, station hand, horsebreaker 
 or what not. Then his expression of countenance was 
 determined, almost stern. When Ernest accosted him, 
 and asked him if he were travelling ' down the river,'
 
 128 A COLONIAL EEFORMER chap. 
 
 like himself, his features relaxed and his soft low voice, a 
 very general characteristic of Australian youth, sounded 
 respectful and friendly in answer. 
 
 He was therefore considerably astonished when the 
 young man promptly produced a revolver, and presenting 
 it full at Mr. Neuchamp's person, called upon him in an 
 altered voice, rounded off with a ruffianly oath, to give up 
 his watch and money. 
 
 The watch was easily seen, as part of the chain was 
 visible, but much marvelled Ernest Neuchamp that the 
 robber, or any other man, should know that he had 
 money with him. It was indeed a chance shot. The 
 young marauder, ha^ang judged him to be a gentleman 
 not long in the country, who was fool enough to travel 
 on foot when he had plenty of money to buy a good 
 hack, also decided that he must have a five-pound note 
 or two wherewith to negotiate in time of need. 
 
 Ernest Neuchamp was brave. The action of his heart 
 was unaltered. His pulse quickened not as he stood 
 before an armed and lawless man. He did not, of 
 course, particularly care to . lose a valuable family gold 
 watch, or ten pounds sterling. But far more deeply 
 than by personal loss or danger was he impressed by the 
 melancholy fact that here was a fine intelligent young 
 fellow, physically speaking, one of the grandest specimens 
 of Caucasian type anywhere procurable, dooming himself, 
 merely by this silly act, with, perhaps, another, to long 
 years of lonely, degrading, maddening prison life. He 
 did not look like a hardened criminal. It may be that a 
 single act of sullen despair, derived from others' guilt, 
 had driven him to this course, which, once entered upon, 
 held no retreat. 
 
 There were few cooler men than Ernest. He became
 
 IX A COLONIAL REFORMER 129 
 
 SO entirely possessed with a new idea, that circumjacent 
 circumstances, however material to him personally, rarely 
 affected him. 
 
 ' My good fellow,' he commenced, sitting down 
 deliberately, 'of course you can have my watch and a 
 tenner, that I happen to have about me. I don't say 
 you are welcome to them, either. But what principally 
 strikes me is, that you are an awful fool to exchange 
 your liberty, your youth, your good name, your very 
 life, for trifles like these. Did this ever occur to 
 you ? ' asked Ernest with much gravity, handing out the 
 watch and one five-pound note, and feeling anxiously for 
 the other, as if he hoped he hadn't lost it. ' Why, hang 
 it all, man, you put me in mind of a savage, who sells 
 himself for a few glass beads, a tomahawk, and a 
 Brummagem gun. Surely you cant have considered this 
 view of the subject, so deeply important to you ? ' 
 
 ' It's devilish important to you too,' said the bush- 
 ranger grimly, though he looked uneasy. ' You're a rum 
 cove to go talking and preaching to a chap with a revolver 
 at your head.' 
 
 ' I don't suppose that you would shoot a man in cold 
 blood for giving you good advice ! A watch and a few 
 pounds are no great loss to me, but the taking of them 
 means death and destruction to you — a living death, worse 
 a hundredfold than if you were lying there with a bullet 
 through your heart. That's what I really feel at this 
 moment. You are taking your ovjii life with your own 
 hand ! Think, do think, like a good fellow, before it is 
 too late ! ' 
 
 ' That you may go straight back to the Nubba police 
 station as soon as I slope,' said the robber. ' I could 
 %op that, you know.' 
 
 VOL. 1 K
 
 130 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 ' I never intended it — not that your threat prevents 
 me. But once entered on the trade of bushranger, I am 
 not the only man you will rob. Others, of course, vv^ll 
 inform, and in a week your description — age, height, hair, 
 scar on the forehead and all — will be at every police 
 station in the four colonies. You may have a month's 
 run, or two, and then you are ' 
 
 ' Shot like a dog, or walled up for life, and driven about 
 like brutes that are called men.' 
 
 'Perfectly right. I am glad you agree with my 
 view,' said Ernest eagerly ; * then ivliy don't you retreat 
 while you have time, and the chance is open ? Look at 
 this blue sky ; think of a good horse between your legs on 
 this broad plain, of a day's shooting, of waking full of life 
 and vigour and going cheerfully to work on your own 
 farm. Such a deuced good-looking, upstanding fellow as 
 you are — what devil put it into your head to give every 
 enemy you have in the world such a chance to laugh at you? ' 
 
 ' Perhaps the devil did. Anyhow, I have been hunted 
 about and falsely accused by the police, about horses and 
 cattle that I never saw a head of; so I turned out.' 
 
 'Just to put them thoroughly in the right,' said 
 Ernest. ' They will thank you for that, and say they 
 always knew it from the first. For God's sake, if you 
 have a grain of sense in your composition, if you have the 
 least wish to live a man's life and stand erect like a man 
 before your fellows, for the sake of the mother that bore 
 you' (here the robber ground his teeth), 'give up this 
 stupid, stale trick of highway robbery, and you will cheat 
 Old Nick yet' 
 
 ' Well, I begin to think I ivas an infernal fool to turn 
 out. It seems a trifle now to be vexed at, but what can 
 I do ? I've gone too far to turn back.'
 
 IX A COLONIAL REFORMER 131 
 
 ' Have you attempted to stop any one but me ? ' asked 
 Ernest. 
 
 ' iSTo ! I was waiting for the coach, which ought to 
 have been here by this time, when I met you. Ha ! 
 there it comes.' 
 
 ' Take your resolution now,' said Ernest solemnly, 
 springing to his feet and standing before him. ' Your 
 fate for life or death is in your own hand : the life of a 
 hunted, half-starved wolf, with perhaps a dog's death, on 
 one side ; life, health, youth, liberty, perhaps a happy 
 home, on the other. Are you mad, that you hesitate ? or 
 does God suffer the enemy to deceive and destroy in the 
 dark hour a lost soul ? ' 
 
 As Ernest spoke, he fixed his clear blue eyes upon the 
 face of the robber, now working as if torn by strong emotion. 
 
 Suddenly the latter strode a pace forward, and casting 
 the revolver away as far as he could throw it in the dull 
 
 green grass, said, ' Damn the squirt ! I wish I had 
 
 never seen it. Here's your two fives, sir, and my best 
 thanks, for I ain't much of a talker, but I feel it. Good- 
 bye.' 
 
 ' Stop ! ' cried Ernest, ' where are you going, and what 
 do you intend to do, and have you any money ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know. I haven't a copper ; it was being 
 chaffed about that by a girl I was fond of that made me 
 think of this. I suppose I'll drop across work before long. 
 God knows ! it's never hard to get in the bush.' 
 
 ' The deeper shame on him who takes to evil courses 
 in such a country,' said Ernest ; ' but I don't intend to 
 preach to yon. You have acted like a man, and I will 
 stand to you as far as I can. I can perhaps get you 
 work on a station I am bound for. So come along with 
 me, and we shall be fellow-travellers after all.'
 
 132 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 The coach passed just then, filled with passengers, who 
 looked with idle curiosity at the wayfarers. 
 
 ' Those chaps would have had a different look in their 
 eyes about this time, only for you,' said the ex-brigand 
 grimly. ' A little thing makes all the difference. I 
 might have shed blood or got hit before this. However, 
 all that's past and gone, I hope. I can work, as you'll 
 see, and I'll keep square for the future if I haven't a 
 shirt to my back.' 
 
 The armistice completed, the two curiously-met com- 
 rades recommenced their march. When Mr. Neuchamp, 
 once more in possession of his timekeeper and cash, had 
 sufficient leisure to return to his usual observing habit, 
 he could not but be struck with the fine form and splendid 
 proportions of Mr. ' First robber,' wdio went singing and 
 whistling along the road with an elastic step, as if care 
 and he had parted company for ever and a day. He was 
 a brown-haired, bright-eyed, good-natured-looking fellow 
 of five or six and twenty. His natural expression seemed 
 to be that of mischievous, unrestrained fun, though the 
 lower part of his face in moments of gravity showed firm- 
 ness and even obstinacy of purpose. He stood nearly 
 six feet in heio-ht, with the build of an athletic man of 
 five feet eight. His broad shoulders, deep chest, and 
 muscular arms showed to considerable advantage in 
 contrast with his light, pliant, and unusually active lower 
 limbs. 
 
 ' A dangerous outlaw,' thought Mr. Neuchamp ; ' roused 
 by resistance, whetted with the taste of blood, and desper- 
 ate from a foreknowledge of heavy punishment, he would 
 have ended his life on the scaffold, with perhaps on his 
 head the blood of better men ; and it looks as if I, Ernest 
 Neuchamp, have this day been the instrument of turning
 
 IX A COLONIAL REFORMER 133 
 
 this man's destiny, at the point of amendment or ruin. 
 " So mote it be." ' 
 
 The day was spent, and Mr. Neuchamp had begun to 
 entertain transient thoughts of moderate roadside com- 
 forts and the like, when his companion stopped and 
 pointed to a cloud of dust almost at right angles to the 
 road. 
 
 ' Travelling sheep,' he said, ' and coming this way — a 
 big lot, too.' 
 
 ' Are they ? ' inquired Mr. Neuchamp. ' What are 
 they doing out there ? ' 
 
 ' Travelling for grass, most likely ; or for sale. Perhaps 
 short of feed or water, or both; they're "out on the 
 wallaby" until the rain comes.' 
 
 ' What is the meaning of " out on the wallaby " ? ' 
 asked Ernest. 
 
 ' Well, it's bush slang, sir, for men just as you or I 
 might be now, looking for work or something to eat ; if 
 we can't get work, living on the country, till things turn 
 round a little.' 
 
 ' Oh ! that's it — well, don't be afraid, things are sure 
 to turn round a little, if we wait long enough. Who's 
 this, coming galloping at such a rate ? ' 
 
 ' Looks like the overseer. He's coming to see if there's 
 any water in the creek. They'll camp here most likely. 
 He's in a hurry.' 
 
 The individual thus criticised was a stout man, past 
 middle age, who bore himself with an air of great re- 
 sponsibility and anxiety. 
 
 ' Hallo ! ' he said, pointing to the creek, ' is there any 
 water there ? ' 
 
 ' Lots,' said the pene-felonious traveller — ' good place 
 to camp.'
 
 134 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 ' How do you know ? ' cautiously inquired the overseer. 
 
 ' Because I've been this road often, and know every 
 water-hole and camping-place and feeding-ground from 
 this to Wentworth.' 
 
 'All right, you're the very man I want; that is, I 
 want two men for one of the flocks. I've just sacked a 
 couple of idle rascals, and run short — will you and your 
 mate come ? ' 
 
 'He's not used to droving work,' pleaded the experi- 
 enced one, doubtful of Ernest's wish for occupation of 
 that sort. 
 
 ' Oh, never mind ; any fool can drive travelling sheep ; 
 you're sharp enough, at any rate. I'll give you five-and- 
 twenty shillings a week each. You can join wdien they 
 come into camp. What do you say ? ' 
 
 ' Very well,' said Ernest, ' I will engage for a month 
 — not longer, as I have to go to a station called Gar- 
 randilla then.' 
 
 ' All right,' said the overseer, ' we pass it ; it will be 
 something to get hands so far ; ' and away the man of 
 many troubles galloped. 
 
 ' What do you say now ? Here w^e are provided with 
 easy, honest, and well-paid employment for as long as we 
 please, with high wages, unlimited food, and sleeping 
 accommodation. I shall rather take them in at Garran- 
 dilla.' 
 
 The army of sheep — about thirty thousand, in fifteen 
 flocks — at length reached the valley before dark, and the 
 overseer, pointing to a flock of two thousand more or 
 less, said, 'There's your mob — if either of you want to 
 go, you must give me a week's notice. If I sack either 
 of you, I shall pay him one week in advance.' 
 
 As the sheep approached, feeding in a leisurely manner.
 
 IX A COLONIAL REFORMER 135 
 
 and gradually converging towards the flat, the two men 
 walked towards the leading flock. 
 
 ' Hallo ! ' said the ex-brigand to one of the shepherds, 
 ' are you the two chaps that the cove has sacked, because 
 we are to take your flock ? ' 
 
 ' All right — you're welcome, mates, to my share,' said 
 an elderly colonist ; ' that super's a growlin', ignorant 
 beggar as runs a feller from daylight to dark for nothing 
 at all. If all the other men was of my mind we'd leave 
 him to drive his sheep himself.' 
 
 ' That's the talk ! ' said the highwayman cautiously, 
 ' but we're hard up, and that makes the difference ; we 
 go on till we pick up something better. What will you 
 take for that dog of yours ? I suppose he can hunt 'em 
 along.' 
 
 ' Best dog from here to Bourke. I'll take two pounds 
 for him.' 
 
 ' No you won't. I'll chance a note for him, and that's 
 about our last shilling, isn't it ? ' added he, looking at Ernest. 
 
 ' Well, the dog's worth a couple of notes, young feller,' 
 said the shepherd reflectively, ' but as you're a-goin' to 
 take the sheep, and down on your luck, why, you can 
 have him.' 
 
 Ernest nodded assent as purse-bearer. 
 
 ' Will you give us chain and collar in the camp to- 
 night ? I'll pay you there,' said the negotiator. ' I 
 suppose you won't clear out till to-morrow ? ' 
 
 ' No fear — it's a good way to Nubba, and Bill and I 
 are going back to the timber country ; we've had enough 
 of these blasted plains, ha'n't we, Bill ? Enough to burn 
 a blessed man's blessed eyes out. Eive-and-twenty bob 
 a week don't pay a cove for that. I mean to stick to 
 the green grass country for a spell now.'
 
 136 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 At nightfall the fifteen flocks of sheep were all brought 
 in, and ' boxed,' or mixed together, to Ernest's astonish- 
 ment. ' How in the world do they ever get them into 
 the same flocks again ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' They don't try,' it was explained. ' They just cut 
 them up into fifteen equal lots in the morning, as 
 near as they can, a hundred or two more or less makes 
 no great difference, and away they go along the road 
 stealing as much grass as the squatters are soft enough to 
 let them.' 
 
 ' And will they stay quietly here all night ? ' 
 
 ' Safe as houses. Sheep ain't like cattle ; they don't 
 like skirmishing about in the dark. So after tea a man 
 can light his pipe, roll his blanket round him, and make 
 believe to watch till daylight. It's a very off chance if 
 e'er a sheep stirs any more than himself 
 
 ' It doesn't seem a hard life,' said Ernest, as they sat 
 on a log and ate chops fried in a pan, using a large flat 
 piece of damper partly as plate, partly as entree, while 
 the pint of quart-pot tea tasted better and was more 
 refreshing than the highest priced Souchong in the 
 daintiest china. 
 
 ' Well, it's a long way from hard work, but six months 
 of it at a time, as I've had now and then, makes you feel 
 you've had enough for a while ; besides, it's Sunday and 
 workday ; not an hour's change week in, week out.' 
 
 ' I daresay that makes a difference,' admitted Ernest, 
 ' but I wonder what a Buckinghamshire field labourer 
 would think if he were suddenly offered twenty-five 
 shillings a week, with all the bread and mutton he could 
 eat, and a small bag of tea.' 
 
 ' And half rations for the dawg,' put in the Australian, 
 throwing their new purchase about half a pound of mutton.
 
 IX A COLONIAL REFORMER 137 
 
 ' By the way/ said Ernest, ' what is his name ? and 
 yours too, for I don't know yet ? I suppose he will be 
 very useful. I'm glad you bought him.' 
 
 ' My name's Jack Windsor ; his name's Watch ; he's 
 that useful that three men with two pairs of legs each 
 couldn't do the work that he'll do for us with these crawl- 
 ing sheep. He's a cheap pound's worth, and that you'll 
 find before we go far.' 
 
 When the evening meal was finished Mr. Neuchamp 
 and his henchman went over to one of four fires which 
 had been lighted at opposite sides of the woolly multi- 
 tude. Jack Windsor lighted his pipe and lay down upon 
 his blanket, where he smoked luxuriously and dozed by 
 turns. Ernest reclined in the same fashion, and after a 
 short struggle with his very natural drowsiness fell fast 
 asleep. 
 
 At daylight next morning Mr. ISTeuchamp awoke 
 without it being necessary for any one to call him. The 
 bosom of great mother Hertha was harder than any 
 resting - place which he had hitherto tried ; but youth 
 and an adventurous disposition being on his side, he 
 found when dressed that the mental thermometer regis- 
 tered an altitude fully above the average. The sheep 
 were still lying down and appeared by no means to be 
 anxious to crop the dewy grass, or whatever somewhat 
 wiry and infrequent herbage did duty for that traditional 
 description. 
 
 'Tender's the cook's fire/ explained Mr. Windsor, 
 pointing to a rising smoke ; ' we'd better get our break- 
 fast to begin with.' 
 
 Eound a blazing fire, the warmth of which, in the 
 sharp autumn morning, was decidedly pleasant, were 
 grouped thirty or forty men engaged in talking, warming
 
 138 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 themselves, and in a leisurely way partakiug of a sub- 
 stantial breakfast. From a pyramid of chops, replenished 
 from an immense frying-pan, with a handle like a niarlin- 
 spike, each man abstracted whatever he chose. Wedges 
 of damper (or bread baked in hot ashes) were cut from 
 time to time from great circular flat loaves of that palat- 
 able and wholesome but somewhat compressed -looking 
 bread, while gallons of hot tea were procurable from 
 buckets full of the universal bush beverage. 
 
 The overseer and some of the horse drivers were 
 absent, as the hacks and cart-horses had wandered during 
 the night rather farther than usual. Ernest and his 
 companion applied themselves to the serious business of 
 the hour, the former conscious that he was beincj sub- 
 jected to a searching inspection from his fellow-employees. 
 His rough tweed suit was sufficiently different from the 
 blue serge shirts and peajackets of the others to mark 
 his different social position, had not his hands, fresh com- 
 plexion, and general appearance denoted him to be a 'new 
 arrival,' and more or less a swell. Swells out of luck 
 are unfortunately by no means rare as ordinary bush 
 hands in Australia, and such a phenomenon would not 
 ordinarily have excited curiosity or hostile criticism. 
 Still a little rough jesting is not to be avoided sometimes 
 when an obviously raw comrade joins a bush brigade. 
 
 It was natural enough then that a tall, dissipated- 
 looking fellow with a whiskerless face and long hair, a 
 leader and wit of the community, should step forward 
 and address Mr. Neuchamp. 
 
 ' Well, Johnny, and what do you think of travelling 
 with store sheep in this blessed country ? You didn't do 
 none o' that in the blessed old country as you've just 
 come from, did ye now ? '
 
 IX A COLONIAL REFORMER 139 
 
 * My name is not Johnny/ replied Ernest, arresting 
 mastication and looking calmly at his interlocutor. ' As 
 for driving sheep, it would be pleasant enough if people 
 didn't ask impudent questions.' 
 
 There was a shout of laughter from the crowd at this 
 retort, which was held to have rather turned the tables 
 upon the provincial humorist. 
 
 ' Come, come, Johnny ! don't cut up rusty,' he con- 
 tinued ; ' you may as well tell us what sort of work you 
 bolted from to turn knock-about-man ; counter-jumping, 
 or something in the figs line, by the look of your 'ands, 
 eh?' 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp had a reasonably good temper, but he 
 had not as yet been accustomed to aught but extreme 
 civility from the lower classes. He had not slipped on 
 too recently the skin of a knock-about-man to realise 
 how it felt to be chaffed as an equal by a fellow-servant. 
 
 ' You're an insolent scoundrel,' said he, dashing down 
 the remainder of his breakfast, ' whom I will soon teach 
 to mind his own business. Put up your hands.' 
 
 Ernest, though not above the middle size, was strongly 
 knit, and had received the ordinary fisti-culture which 
 enables the average English gentleman to ^hold his own 
 so creditably against all comers. He was a hard hitter 
 when roused, and doubtless would have come out of the 
 encounter with honour. But his antagonist was three 
 inches taller, longer in the reach, a couple of stones 
 heavier, and being in top wind and condition after six 
 months' road-work, and withal a sort of second-rate 
 bruiser, might have inconvenienced and would certainly 
 have marked Mr. Neuchamp in any case. 
 
 Just as his late tormentor had lounged forward into a 
 careless guard and an insolent oath, Ernest felt himself
 
 140 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 quickly but firmly pushed aside, while Jack Windsor 
 stood like a lion in the path. 
 
 ' Take it out of me, ye cursed infernal bully ; what the 
 devil is it to you if a gentleman likes to have his colonial 
 experience this way ? You're a deal too fond of showin' 
 off and taking the change out of men that isn't your match. 
 Now you've dropped in for it lucky. Mind yourself.' 
 
 The crowd closed in with great though unspoken 
 delight at this prospect of a real good fight. They in- 
 tended to interfere directly the new chum, as they called 
 him, and ' Bouncino^ Bob ' had had the first flutter. But 
 here was a ' dark horse,' evidently good for a close heat. 
 What a glorious relief from the monotony of their daily 
 dodging along the road with stubborn and impoverished 
 sheep ! 
 
 'Bouncing Bob,' though a smart fellow enough with 
 his hands, liked a small allowance of weight, science, or 
 pluck ; he was better at a winning than an uphill fight. 
 He now distinctly felt that the chances in the contest 
 w^ould be likely to be the other way. 
 
 Mr. John Windsor did not leave him long in doubt. 
 Quick as lightning his left was in, and though by a rapid 
 counter Bob managed to score a smack that counted for 
 first blood, it was apparent that he was no match for the 
 stranger, who was at once stronger, more active, and 
 more scientific. 
 
 A couple of inches shorter, Jack Windsor w^as the 
 heavier man. Bob's activity gave him the chance of 
 escape from two falls, one of which nearly finished the 
 fray ; but he failed to come so well away from a right- 
 handed feint, which occasioned his catching finally a 
 terrific left-hander, sending him down so decisively that 
 he saw no particular use in coming to time.
 
 IX A COLONIAL REFORMER 141 
 
 * I suppose I may as well give you best/ he said, 
 rising with some difficulty and showing an apparently 
 fatally ensanguined countenance ; ' I didn't begin except 
 for a bit of chaff. It's making a darned fuss about a 
 new chum.' 
 
 With this Parthian shaft he departed, to be in readi- 
 ness for the flock when cut off; while Jack Windsor 
 amused himself whistling softly. Before he replaced his 
 shirt he said, 'Now, look here, boys; we don't want to 
 interfere witli anybody, but this gentleman here is my 
 master for the time, and any one who wants to take the 
 change out of him will have to come to me first.' 
 
 ' All right,' said one of the crowd ; ' it won't do 
 Bouncing Bob any harm to get a floorer or two, he's only 
 being paid for many a dab he's given himself 
 
 Just at this moment a great clatter of bells was heard, 
 and the overseer rode in at a gallop on a barebacked 
 steed, with all the camp horses before him. 
 
 ' Now, look alive, men, and get your sheep out. Don't 
 be sticking in this camp all day. Hallo ! What's the 
 row about ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing much, sir,' returned Windsor respectfully ; 
 ' me and that long chap they call Bob had a bit of an 
 argument; he began it, and he's got a black eye or two. 
 I don't suppose there'll be any more of it. ' 
 
 * Well, take care tliere is not, or I shall have to sack 
 the pair of you. Quite enough to do without fighting 
 now. Get away with your sheep, like good fellows. The 
 carts can follow.' 
 
 A section of about the required number having been 
 made at the time by a line of men getting behind the 
 leading sheep and driving them forcibly forward, at the 
 same time preventing them (if possible) from running
 
 142 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 back to the still larger lot, Jack signed to Mr. Neuchamp, 
 and putting the dog Watch at their heels, who aided 
 them vociferously, they found themselves in possession of 
 eighteen or nineteen hundred sheep, which they drove 
 for some distance at right angles to the road. 
 
 'Now what we've got to do, sir,' said Jack, 'is to 
 keep quietly behind these sheep all day. We must not 
 go more than half a mile away from the road, or we'll be 
 'pounded. We can't follow the flock in front very close 
 or let the one behind get too near us, or we shall get 
 boxed.' 
 
 ' What do you mean by boxed ? ' demanded Ernest. 
 
 ' Well, mixed up. You see, sir, sheep's very fond of 
 keeping all together. It's their nature. If they get any 
 way close they begin to run, the front to the back and 
 the back to the front, and all the men and dogs in the 
 world wouldn't keep 'em apart.' 
 
 ' And what harm would that be ? ' 
 
 ' Well, we should have four thousand sheep to manage 
 instead of two, and they wouldn't drive so well or feed so 
 well, and as these sheep are as poor as crows already, that 
 wouldn't suit.' 
 
 ' I see,' replied Ernest. ' I think I understand the 
 principle of the thing.' 
 
 ' All right, sir,' assented Jack. ' Now, we've got the 
 day before us, and nothing to think about till dinner- 
 time but the sheep. Did you bring any grub with 
 you?' 
 
 ' Not I — don't we stop ? ' 
 
 ' Not a stop till sundown. You see, sir, the days are 
 short now, and it's more fair and straightforward like to 
 the sheep to let 'em go nibbling and feeding all day, just 
 keeping their right distance from one another, till camp-
 
 IX A COLONIAL REFORMER 143 
 
 ing time, then tliey draw in together, and they can camp 
 till further orders.' 
 
 To keep slowly walking up and down, back and 
 forward, behind a flock of sheep, from 7 or 8 A.M. 
 till 5 P.M., the rate of speed and progress being con- 
 siderably under a mile an hour, did not seem likely to 
 turn out a cheerful occupation for three weeks. Mr. 
 Xeuchamp's heart sank under the contemplation for a 
 moment. But after all he considered that he was doing 
 a good deed in the conversion of a weak brother (morally) 
 from a criminal career to honesty and a good reputation. 
 This was a result which would have overpaid him for 
 considerably more inconvenience than he was liable to 
 suffer now. Besides, he was picking up colonial experi- 
 ence practically with greater speed and thoroughness 
 than he was likely to do at any station ; therefore he 
 stifled all unworthy feelings of impatience, and trudged 
 steadily behind his sheep, at the opposite side from 
 Windsor, as if he had been born and bred for the task, 
 like the dog Watch. 
 
 That sagacious animal excited his astonishment and 
 respectful admiration. The livelong day he kept trotting 
 backward and forward behind the flock, always keeping 
 at a certain distance, and merely intimidating the lin- 
 gerers and weakly ones without harshness or violence. 
 If a sufficiently lively crawl was not pursued, he occa- 
 sionally, by a gentle make-believe bite, gave a hint as to 
 what he could do if necessary. His half-human instinct 
 had plainly convinced him that loudness of bark and 
 general assertion were amply sufficient in the woolly as 
 in the human world to produce the most gratifying 
 submission and acknowledgment of superiority. 
 
 About noon the fresh air, the continuous though not
 
 144 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 violent exercise and healthy appetite of youth, combined 
 to produce a feeling of deep regret that he had not been 
 more provident about lunch. However, Mr. Jack Windsor, 
 drawing over, produced a large parcel containing corned 
 mutton and bread enough for an English labourer's family 
 for a week. 
 
 ' I thought, sir, as you'd like a snack, so I nmzzled 
 enough grub for twa; I've got some cold tea in the 
 billy.' 
 
 Ernest noticed that his retainer had commenced to 
 carry a small camp kettle containing probably two quarts, 
 which he nothing doubted held water. This repast was 
 now complete. The friends munched away at the very 
 substantial luncheon as they strolled along behind the 
 ever-nibbling sheep, and after giving Watch a very ample 
 supply, washed it down with nectar in the shape of cold 
 tea. 
 
 'Well/ quoth Mr. Neuchamp, with a deep sigh of 
 contentment, ' how comparative are all things ! I never 
 remember to have enjoyed a mid-day meal more in my 
 life. This fresh day air must be a wonderful tonic ; or 
 is it the early rising and Arcadian simplicity of life ? 
 I believe that they insist upon a lot of virtuous behaviour 
 at a cold-water establishment such as the people would 
 never stand in their ordinary lives. But because it's an 
 " establishment " they let the doctor bully them to bed 
 at nine, get up at six, eat early dinners of mutton chops 
 and rice puddings (how I laughed at a guardsman's face 
 at Ben PJiydding once when the bell rang at 1 p.m. and 
 he was marshalled to such a repast), and unexpectedly 
 find themselves placed in possession of an appetite and 
 health again. 
 
 ' It's something of the same sort of thing here. If I
 
 IX A COLONIAL REFORMER 145 
 
 had gone a trip with a drover from Tillyfour to London 
 with West Highland cattle, I daresay I should have 
 doubled my appetite and general vitality. There, how- 
 ever, it is not " the thing " to do. Here it is not the 
 best form apparently — but you may carry it off without 
 any accusation of insanity. One thing is certain, I shall 
 never respect good cooking so much again. The cook to 
 cultivate is yourself unquestionably. Guard your appe- 
 tite, keep it in a state of nature, and the rudest materials, 
 if wholesome, provide us with a daily feast, and a measure 
 of enjoyment of which over-civilised, latter-day men are 
 wholly ignorant and incapable.' 
 
 VOL I
 
 CHAPTEE X 
 
 The days, after all, passed not so funereally by. The 
 weather was utterly lovely. The wide plain was fanned 
 by delicious \vandering breezes. Mr. Xeuchamp had 
 ample time for philosophical contemplation, as long as he 
 ' kept up his side ' of the flock. If he became temporarily 
 abstracted while musing upon the fact that the ancients 
 travelled their stock for change of feed, probably doing a 
 little grass stealing, when the season was dry — 
 
 ' Pecusve Calabris ante sidus fervidum 
 Lucana mutet jDascua ' — 
 
 the dog. Watch, would be sent round by his alert comrade 
 to sweep in the spreading outsiders and warn him of his 
 laches. Just before sundown one day the flocks were 
 converging towards a line of timber suspiciously like- a 
 creek. The overseer rode up. He looked with approval 
 upon the well-filled flock, now quietly feeding, and thus 
 addressed Ernest — 
 
 ' Well, youngster, and how do you like shepherding ? ' 
 ' Pretty well,' he answered ; * it's better than I expected.' 
 ' You and your mate seem to get on very well ; the 
 sheep look first-rate.' 
 
 ' Glad you think so. My mate is a person of
 
 CHAP. X A COLONIAL REFORMER 147 
 
 experience, so is the dog. It isn't hard to drive a flock of 
 sheep, I And, with two good assistants/ 
 
 ' Well, I don't suppose you'd have made much hand 
 of them by yourself. However, a man's a man when 
 you're travelling with sheep on a road like this. Don't 
 you listen to those other vagabonds, and you'll make a 
 smart chap by and by.' 
 
 ' Thank you,' said Ernest ; ' I'll try and keep as 
 innocent as I can under the circumstances.' 
 
 The overseer rode off, puzzled as to whether the new 
 hand was laughing at him or was ' a shingle short' 
 Slightly damaged people, whether from drink, disappoint- 
 ment, a lonely life, or the heat of the climate, were, 
 unfortunately, not particularly scarce in the locality. 
 
 ' Whatever he is, he and that rowdy-looking card can 
 keep their sheep and feed them first-rate,' he said to 
 himself, ' and that's all I've got to look out for. Perhaps 
 the young one's going jackerooing at Jedwood ; if so, he 
 has more sense than he looks to have.' The month wore 
 on with dreaminess and peace, so that Mr. Xeuchamp 
 began to think he would not be so unreasonably delighted 
 to get to Garrandilla. Each day, soon after sunrise, they 
 moved from camp at a pace extremely suitable to 
 the thick coming fancies which filled the mind of Ernest 
 Xeuchamp during the first hours of the untarnished day. 
 There was the glorious undisturbed sun, with autumnal 
 tempered beams. On such endless plains Chaldean and 
 Israelitish shepherds, in the world's youth, had travelled 
 or held vigil. No vast awe-striking ruins lay on these 
 great solitudes. Xo temple eloquent of the elder races of 
 the earth. But the stars burned by night in the aU- 
 cloudless dark blue dome as they sat in nominal watch, 
 and Ernest mused of the silent kings of this mysterious
 
 148 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 human life, changeless destiny, till the morning star 
 seemed to approach his solitary couch, as did that lonely 
 orb which held converse with Morven, the son of Ossian. 
 
 In the daily round of guiding and pasturing he learned 
 much of the complex nature of the under-rated intelli- 
 gence of the sheep. His companion, Mr. Jack Windsor, 
 had cultivated a habit of observation, and knew, as 
 gradually appeared, something, not always a little, of 
 everything rural. 
 
 ' lium things sheep, sir,' he would remark, as he 
 commanded Watch to abstain from troubling and signalled 
 Mr. Xeuchamp to come on to his side ; ' I always see a 
 deal of likeness to the women about 'em. If they don't 
 want to do a thing you can't drive 'em to it. Xo, not all 
 the men and dogs in the country. If you want 'em to 
 do anything particular, pretend you don't wish 'em to do 
 nothin of the sort. Give 'em lots of fair play, that's 
 another good rule, same as women. When it comes to 
 anything out-and-out serious, act determined, and let 
 them have it, right down heeling, and all the fight you're 
 master of.' 
 
 As it was from time to time pointed out, when 
 principles and admonitions came into play, Ernest was 
 enabled to comprehend the many ways in which stock 
 can be benefited when travelling by discreet and careful 
 feeding, halting, watering, and humouring. So that he 
 actually possessed himself of an amount of practical 
 knowledge with which a year's ordinary station life might 
 not have provided him. As for the rest of the men, his 
 easy, unassuming equality of manner had rendered him 
 personally a favourite with them. They held that a fair 
 fight settled everything, without appeal, and having come 
 to the conclusion that Mr. Neuchamp was a swell, pre-
 
 X A COLONIAL REFORMER U9 
 
 sumably with money, travelling with sheep for his amuse- 
 ment — incomprehensible as was that idea to them — they 
 felt that he w^as in a kind of way Jack Windsor's property, 
 who was likely to be pecuniarily benefited during the 
 stage of Mr. ISTeuchamp's softness and inexperience. 
 Hence he was in his right to do battle for him. They 
 would have done the same had they similar golden hopes. 
 And now the matter being over, and ' Bouncing Bob ' 
 relegated to a ' back seat ' as wit and occasional bully of 
 the camp, they held, after the English fashion, that the 
 discussion could not be reopened. So all was peace and 
 harmony. 
 
 One day, as they were sleepily voyaging over the grass 
 ocean, Jack AVindsor, wdio had gone out of his way to 
 look at a man leading a horse, returned with exciting 
 new^s. The horse aforesaid was young, and in his 
 opinion a great beauty — ' a regular out-and-outer,' 
 was the expression — and, by great chance, for sale. 
 ' Would Mr. Xeuchamp like to buy him ? If he wanted 
 a horse at Garrandilla, he could not do a better thino;.' 
 
 ' When you get there, sir, of course you'll want a hack. 
 There'll be no more walking, I'll be bound. You'll have 
 messages to carry, boundary riding to do, cattle-driving, 
 getting in the horses — all sorts of fast work. Well, 
 either they'll give you a stiff-legged old screw, that'll fall 
 down and break your neck some day, or a green half- 
 broken young one that'll half kill you another road. I 
 know the sort of horses the young gentlemen get at a 
 station where a man like Mr. Jedwood's the boss.' 
 
 ' Very well, what does he want for the colt ? Is he a 
 very good one ? ' 
 
 ' I haven't seen his equal for years ; don't know as I 
 ever saw a better. Why he's fool enough to sell him I
 
 150 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 can't tell. But it's all square. I know the man, and 
 where his run is ; you'd better go over and see him.' 
 ' So I will ; but how can he be kept or broken in ? ' 
 
 ' I'll break him ; I can rough-ride a bit, and will put 
 him among the other horses and short-hobble him.' 
 
 Accordingly Ernest went over and saw a noble, good- 
 tempered-looking dark gray colt. He had a large full 
 eye, black mane, legs, and tail, with a shoulder noticeable 
 even amid the rounded proportions of colthood. 
 
 ' So this young horse is for sale ? ' he said inquiringly 
 of a middle-aged stout man, like enough to be a brother 
 to their own overseer. 
 
 ' Yes ! ' said the man, pulling at the halter, which had 
 galled the colt's under jaw. ' I started to take him down 
 to the lower station, and he's such a brute to lead that he 
 has nearly pulled me off more than once. I won't lead 
 him a step farther if we can deal.' 
 
 ' What will you take for him ? ' asked Ernest. 
 
 ' Well,' said the stranger, ' I believe he's a real good 
 'un, though he's never been backed yet. I don't know or 
 care much about horses myself; they're useless brutes, 
 and eat more grass than they are w^orth. I'll take ten 
 pounds for him.' 
 
 ' Very well,' said Ernest, ' he's mine at that price, and 
 I will send a man over with the money, if you will deliver 
 the horse to him.' 
 
 Jack Windsor was overjoyed to hear that the colt was 
 actually bought. 
 
 ' I can break him easy enough,' he said, wdth all the 
 eagerness of a schoolboy. ' He is half handled now, and 
 it will be easy for me to back him.' 
 
 ' But how shall we keep him till w^e get to Garrandilla ?' 
 
 ' Oh ! I'll square it with the chap that looks after the
 
 X A COLONIAL REFORMER 151 
 
 spare horses ; there's a mare with them as he'll likely 
 take to. He can't get away far in hobbles anyhow.' 
 
 So Jack being sent off with the whole of Mr. K'eu- 
 champ's remaining capital, in half an hour returned with 
 the colt at the end of a long halter, and a properly 
 witnessed receipt from John Williams of Boro, which he 
 handed to Ernest. 
 
 ' I made him draw out a receipt, all regular, and get 
 the nearest man I could cooey to, to sign it. There's no 
 knowing but somebody might claim the colt without this 
 — say you'd worked him on the cross. There's nothing 
 like being safe with a good horse like this.' 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp was pleased with his purchase, which 
 he immediately christened * Osmund,' after an old hunter 
 with a favourite family name at !N"euchampstead. 
 
 ' I'll do nothing but handle him to-day,' said Windsor ; 
 ' to-morrow I'll get a spare saddle and bridle, and will 
 tackle him.' 
 
 ' Good gracious ! ' said Ernest, ' is that the way you 
 break horses in this country ? Have you no cavesson, 
 or breaking-bit, or web surcingle ? ' 
 
 ' All them's very well when you've got 'em,' said Mr. 
 Windsor ; ' but they don't have saddlers' shops on the 
 plains, and if a man can ride he can do without 'em, 
 and do justice to his horse too.' 
 
 So next day Jack procured an old bridle and saddle, 
 the bit belonging to which he carefully wrapped round 
 with rag, thinly increasing its bulk and rendering it fit 
 for ' mouthing ' or slightly bruising, without cutting, the 
 corners of the lips of a young horse. This and the 
 saddle, by means of patience and persuasion, he managed 
 to get fairly placed and buckled upon Osmund, who 
 objected a little, but finally marched along not very
 
 152 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 much alarmed by his novel accoutrements. All this 
 time the sheep-driving was efficiently conducted by Mr. 
 Neuchamp and the dog Watch, who amply justified the 
 anticipations indulged in by Mr. Windsor at the time of 
 his purchase. 
 
 In about another week they expected to arrive at 
 Garrandilla, when the curtain would rise on the first act 
 of the drama of Colonial Experience, with Mr. E. Neu- 
 champ in the role of first gentleman. 
 
 Two or three days only had passed when Jack 
 Windsor announced to Mr. Neuchamp that the colt was 
 quite quiet enough to back, and that he would perform 
 the ceremony that very morning, as soon as the sheep 
 were steadied to their first feed. 
 
 ' Back him, now 1 ' exclaimed Ernest in tones of horror, 
 ' why, he cannot be nearly mouthed.' 
 
 ' Oh yes, he is,' assented Mr. Windsor, playfully 
 pressing against the bit and causing Osmund to retrograde ; 
 ' he's got mouth enough for anything, and between leading 
 and hobbling he's steady enough to make a wheeler in 
 a coach. When I have finished you won't find fault 
 with him for not being steady, I'll be bound. Just you 
 stand close to his shoulder, and hold him while I get up.' 
 
 Ernest, though much mistrusting the preliminary 
 instruction of a week's leading, and the simple addition 
 of a bridle and saddle as being sufficient to take the 
 place of all the two months' lunging, belting, cavessoning, 
 driving, dressing, which had been the invariable curric- 
 ulum of the colts at Neuchampstead, deferred to his 
 follower's opinion. 
 
 ' I don't think he's got any bucking in him,' he said ; 
 ' he carries his head too high for that, and his mouth's 
 that tight, I could pull him on to his tail if he tried any
 
 X A COLOXIAL REFORMER 153 
 
 tricks. He's a bit frightened, and when he's got over 
 that he'll q;o like an old horse.' 
 
 ' I should say that buckjumping was produced in this 
 country by bad breaking/ said ^Ir. ISTeuchamp oracularly. 
 ' It all depends upon how a horse is treated.' 
 
 ' Don't you believe it, sir. Bucking is like other 
 vices. Ptuns in the blood. I've seen horses that had 
 twice and three times the time taken over 'em that this 
 colt has, and by good grooms too, in good stables, and 
 they'd buck, and buck too till they'd half kill themselves, 
 or you. And as for a stranger, they'd eat him.' 
 
 ' And how do you account for that ? ' asked Mr. 
 Xeuchamp. ' Why should one horse be free from that 
 particular vice, and another with the same amount, or 
 even more handling, be unmanageable from it ? ' 
 
 •' Why do boys at the same school turn out different ? 
 It depends upon the families they come off. So it is 
 with the horses. One strain will be reg'lar cannibals, no 
 matter how steady you are with 'em ; the others you can 
 catch and ride away, and they'll be as quiet as lambs, and 
 yet game all the time, as I believe this one of ours is.' 
 
 As he spoke he touched the colt's side, and he moved 
 off after the sheep in a steady and confident manner, 
 more like an old horse than a young one. He occasion- 
 ally stopped and sidled, or indulged in a playful plunge 
 or kick. ' Of course these little irregularities were only 
 amusing to Mr. Windsor, who was in truth a matchless 
 rough-rider, and wellnigh impossible to be thrown by 
 horses of good family or bad. By the end of the day 
 Osmund was apparently as quiet as a trooper, and when 
 unsaddled and turned out seemed quite at home with the 
 cart-horses. 
 
 ' Xow,' said ]\Ir. Windsor, as they sat at their evening
 
 154 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 meal, ' you've got, sir, what everybody is always a-talkin' 
 about and never seems to get, an out-and-out good hack, 
 fast and easy and well bred, and a stunner to look at. 
 I'll forfeit my month's wages if he ain't a sticker, as 
 well. These quiet ones are just as game as the savages, 
 and indeed more so, in my opinion, because they can eat 
 and rest themselves better. And I wouldn't sell him, if 
 I was you, if I was offered double what you gave for 
 him.' 
 
 ' I don't think I will,' said Ernest ; ' but surely good 
 horses are easily picked up in this country, if one is a 
 fair judge. There must be such thousands upon thou- 
 sands.' 
 
 ' So there are,' replied the Australian, ' but we might 
 be gray before you dropped on another nag like this, 
 'specially for ten notes. Look at his shoulder, how it 
 goes back ; see what loins he has ; good ribs ; with out- 
 and-out legs and feet. He's more than three-parts bred ; 
 and if he don't gallop and jump a bit I'm much deceived. 
 He's a bottler, that's what he is ; and if you ever go for 
 to sell him, you'll be sorry for it.' 
 
 'Well, I don't think I will. Jack,' asserted Mr. 
 Neuchamp. ' I shall always want a horse while I'm in 
 the country, and I think I shall make a pet of this 
 one.' 
 
 i or the remaining days, before the ' reporter ' entered 
 the Garrandilla gate, to give legal notice of the invading 
 army of fleece-bearing locusts, Osmund was ridden daily, 
 and became more docile and obedient to the manege day 
 by day. 
 
 As the long lines of sheep, flock after flock, fed up 
 and finally mingled at the Garrandilla gate, a big man, 
 with a distinctly northern face, rode up on a powerful
 
 X A COLONIAL REFORMER 155 
 
 horse and looked keenly at the array of sheep, horses, 
 men, and dogs. 
 
 ' Where's the person in charge ? ' he asked of one of 
 the shepherds. 
 
 ' I believe he has gone to the township,' said the 
 man ; ' he'll be here to-night.' 
 
 ' Have you seen anything of a young gentleman 
 coming up to my station ? I am Mr. Jedwood.' 
 
 ' Xot that I know of. There's two chaps with that 
 last flock, one of 'em's a " new chum." ' 
 
 Mr. Jedwood rode down to the flock indicated, and 
 there discovered Mr. JSTeuchamp in the act of eating a 
 piece of boiled corned mutton, and looking around in an 
 unsatisfied manner, as if anxious for more. 
 
 ' You are Mr. Neuchamp, I think, a gentleman in- 
 troduced by letter to me by my old friend Paul 
 Frankston ? ' 
 
 'The same,' said Ernest, putting down his damper 
 and mutton carefully and standing up. ' I intended to 
 present myself to-morrow morning, after being settled 
 with.' 
 
 ' Settled with ? ' said Jedw^ood, in a tone of astonish- 
 ment. ' You don't mean to say you've really hired 
 yourself to drive travelling sheep ! Not but it's a 
 sensible thing enough to do ; still you're the first 
 " colonial experience " young fellow that it ever occurred 
 to within my knowledge.' 
 
 * I had reasons for it, which can be better explained 
 by and by,' answered Ernest. ' In the meantime, there 
 is a travelling companion of mine whom I should feel 
 obliged if you could employ at Garrandilla. Jack, come 
 here ! ' 
 
 Mr. Jedwood looked keenly at the ingenuous coun-
 
 156 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 tenance of Mr. Jack Windsor, and then, after suffering 
 his eye to fall approvingly upon his athletic frame, 
 said — 
 
 ' There's always employment at Garrandilla for men 
 that know how to work, and are not afraid to put out 
 their strength. What can you do, young man ? ' 
 
 'Well, most things,' answered the Australian, with 
 quiet confidence ; ' fence, split, milk, drive bullocks, 
 stock-keep, plough, make dams, build huts ; I'm not 
 particular, till August, then I'm a shearer.' 
 
 ' Can you break horses ? ' asked the squatter, ' for I 
 have a lot of colts I want badly to put to work, and I 
 can't get a decent man to handle them.' 
 
 ' I can break horses with here and there one,' re- 
 sponded this accomplished new-world labourer. 'Mr. 
 Neuchamp and I finished one as we come along, didn't 
 we, sir ? ' 
 
 'Yoit did, and wonderfully well and Cjuickly, too,' 
 assented Ernest. ' I had nothing to do but to hold him. 
 I think I can give my personal guarantee, Mr. Jedwood, 
 if you think it of any value, that Jack can tame any 
 horse in the land.' 
 
 'Then you can come up to-morrow with Mr. Xeu- 
 champ,' said the squatter, ' and I'll hire you till shearing. 
 Shall I send a horse for you ? ' he added, addressing 
 Ernest. 
 
 ' No, thanks, I have my own here ; I'll ride him up.' 
 
 'You seem to be pretty well provided for a new 
 arrival,' said the proprietor good-humouredly. ' What 
 with your wages in hand, a horse, a man, and a month's 
 character as a travelling drover, you have not wasted 
 your time much, though old Paul seemed quite anxious 
 about you, and wrote several letters.'
 
 X A COLONIAL REFORMER 157 
 
 On the following morning Mr. Neuchamp had a short 
 intervieAY with his master, the overseer, who was in high 
 good humour, having secured two hands in their place at 
 the township aforesaid, one of them a shepherd, most 
 fortunately, at the right {i.e. the concluding) end of his 
 cheque. 
 
 ' Well, you're going to leave us, I suppose, just as 
 you're getting used to the sheep ; but I can't complain, 
 as you gave me fair notice. You've been a month, that 
 makes five pounds each. Here's your money, lads/ with 
 which he tendered a five-pound cheque to each of them. 
 ' Good-day to you, and good luck.' 
 
 ' Good - morning. You have my best wishes,' said 
 Ernest, making a bow which quite overwhelmed the 
 overseer. 
 
 ' Here you are, Jack,' said Mr. Neuchamp, as soon as 
 the man of sheep had departed ; ' I always intended you 
 to have my share of the profits of this droving transac- 
 tion.' 
 
 ' That be hanged for a yarn ! I beg your pardon. I 
 mean, I couldn't think of taking it, sir.' And Jack's 
 face really assumed a most unwonted expression — that of 
 genuine diffidence and modesty. 
 
 ' But you must,' said Ernest imperatively ; ' you must 
 take it, in payment for the discovery and breaking of 
 Osmund, besides you will want a fit-out in clothing and 
 other things.' So he cast the cheque at his feet. 
 
 '"Well, if I must, I must,' said Mr. Windsor reluc- 
 tantly. ' It's a good while since I was as rich as this, 
 and all on the square, too ; that's what gets me. Never 
 mind, sir, if we both live you'll get over-value for this 
 bit o' paper some day.' 
 
 It was now time to make tracks for Garrandilla.
 
 158 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 Ernest did not see any road, or know the precise line of 
 country, but Mr. Windsor taking the matter in hand, 
 they soon found themselves in front of a very small slab 
 cottage, standing solemnly alone, at the rear of which, 
 however, were huts, sheds, farm buildings, and haystacks, 
 in such number and abundance that Ernest thought they 
 must have fallen upon the township by mistake. 
 
 Mr. Jedwood, however, appeared at the door, and 
 walking out to meet them, told Windsor to betake him- 
 self to the stables, and to remain there until he came out 
 to see him, to feed the horse, and to inquire of the 
 oToom, who would inform him wdiere he could feed 
 himself He then invited Ernest to follow him into the 
 house. 
 
 ' I am glad to find that you have turned up at last,' 
 said his host ; ' not that, of course, never having seen 
 you, I should have grieved overmuch myself if you 
 hadn't, but poor old Paul seemed so anxious that, for his 
 sake, I began to feel an interest in you. If you will 
 walk this way I will show you your room in the barracks 
 — there is a pile of letters for you.' 
 
 Ernest felt really pleased to be placed in possession 
 once more of any sort of bedroom, and proceeded to 
 render himself presentable to general society. After 
 these necessary changes had been accomplished, he com- 
 menced to look over his letters, of which there were — 
 Americanid — ' quite a number.' 
 
 First of all he opened one in the bluff characters of 
 Mr. Erankston, bold, and easily read, as the true heart of 
 the writer. It ran thus : — 
 
 My dear Boy — What, in the name of all the rocks and shoals 
 between the Sow and Pigs and Maafu Reef, are you cruising about 
 so long before turning up at Garranclilla ? Is the reason masculine,
 
 X A COLONIAL REFORMER 159 
 
 feminine, or neuter ? By tlie bye, Charley Carryall was here the 
 other day. Told me some first-rate yarns — sorry yon weren't at 
 Morahmee to hear 'em. Well, but why haven't you fetched your 
 whaling-ground — I mean your run — yet 1 
 
 Antonia was in a great way when she saw the telegram, in the 
 Evening Times, that you had been apprehended and locked up for 
 keeping company with 'another prisoner.' Ha, ha, ha ! Can't 
 help it, couldn't really ! She kept picturing you in a dungeon, 
 and all the rest of it. I said that you would enjoy it for a day or 
 two, during the hot weather. What do you think about walking ? 
 Have you got a horse yet 1 We are all very middling. Couldn't 
 you scpiare it with Jedwood to come down at Christmas ? There's 
 not much work doing then anywhere. The verandah at Morahmee 
 won't be haK a bad place about that time, if it's as hot as it was 
 last year. I saw Hartley Selmore the other day. He sold 
 Gammon Downs to a young fellow, just out. My head clerk is 
 rather a queer old character. 
 
 ' Ah ! sir"' he said, ' don't you think Mr. Selmore will go to 
 hell for selling such a place to that poor young gentleman \ ' 
 
 ' Really I don't know,' I answered ; ' there always seems a 
 sufficient supply of young fellows with a little money and nc 
 brains. If they were not gobbled up by the Selmores, some other 
 big fish would be sure to have them.' 
 
 However, Antonia said Hartley was a cold-blooded rascal, and 
 I was nearly as bad for making light of his villainy. So I did 
 not take much by my joke. 
 
 Stock has fallen since you left town, and will fall more yet if 
 the war does not come to an end, and this very dry season. So 
 your money is all the safer in the bank. Don't on any account 
 invest without consulting me. Work as hard as you like, but 
 don't get sunstroke. Avoid brandy and water ; and when you're 
 very tired of wool and bullocks, see if you can't find the road to 
 Morahmee again. Remember me to our Jedwood. He'll keep 
 you up to the mark, unless he's altered. — Your old friend, 
 
 Paul Frankston.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 He who embarks upon an enterprise or commences a 
 course of life involving absolute departure from every 
 early habit and association will invariably be assailed at 
 some stage or period by distrust, even by despondency. 
 It is not in man to complete all the multifarious acts and 
 volitions pertaining to any momentous change without 
 experiencing the strongest reactionary impulses to halt, 
 to doubt, to waver, to retreat. 
 
 That Ernest !N"euchamp possessed these, among other 
 weaknesses of our nature, we are by no means prepared 
 to deny. But he had one counterbalancing quality which 
 oftentimes stood him in good stead, when on the dangerous 
 declivities of indecision. This compensating element was 
 a habit of reasoning out his proceedings logically before 
 the day of battle. He formed his opinions, arranged his 
 movements, with Prussian deliberation and purpose afore- 
 thought. Having decided upon his order of action, he 
 vowed mentally that no infringement upon his plan 
 should be suffered, whatever might be his own ephemeral 
 impulses, even convictions. 
 
 Thus he often carried out programmes involving fore- 
 gone conclusions, with ruthless exactitude against every 
 feelinsf, taste, and sentiment then and there animating^ his
 
 XI A COLONIAL REFOKMER 161 
 
 rebellious mind. ' No ! ' he would repeat to himself. ' I 
 made my culculations, carried out my reasoning to its 
 lec^itimate demonstration, when no disturbincf element was 
 present. Shall I veer with every shift of wind, consult 
 every sudden instinct or every emotional sensation ? Xo 
 — onward by the true and proved course ! ' 
 
 Steadfastly adhering, therefore, to his sketch-map, on 
 the following morning Mr. Neuchamp accompanied his 
 host on a tour of inspection, and gathered some approximate 
 notion of the character of the stock and station, together 
 with the duties which as an aspirant to the comprehensive 
 study of ' colonial experience ' he might be expected to 
 perform. 
 
 The somewhat extensive property known as Garrandilla 
 was divided by a river, on one side of which natural 
 boundary the stock consisted of sheep — on the other of 
 cattle. The northern subdivision comprised four ' blocks,' 
 having each five miles' frontage to the Wandabyne, a 
 permanent and occasionally turbulently flowing stream. 
 As far back as thirty miles, the lands were held upon 
 the usual lease from the Crown. Through all this great 
 tract of country no man was legally entitled to travel, 
 save on the road which passed along the course of the 
 river, avoiding only the sinuosities of its course. North 
 Garrandilla consisted w^holly of saltbush plains, diversified 
 only by ' belts ' of myall and eucalyptus forest. It was 
 therefore held to be appropriate for sheep, to the highly 
 successful production of which it had always been devoted. 
 
 On the south side, the 'lay of the country,' as Jack 
 Windsor would have called it, was different. Marshy 
 flats, interspersed with lagoons and reed -beds, extended 
 along, and for several miles back from the river. With 
 this exception the greater part of the area was covered 
 . VOL. I ' M
 
 162 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 with more or less open forest, while at ' the back/ or the 
 extreme limit of the imwatered region away from the 
 river, were ranges of hills precipitous and heavily timbered, 
 among which the cattle roved at will during the winter 
 season, returning to the low grounds as the fierce sun of 
 the Australian waste commenced to dry the interior water- 
 courses. 
 
 At a short distance from ' the house,' Mr. Jedwood's 
 cottage, or hut, as the residence of the proprietor was 
 indifferently designated, stood a roomy, roughly finished 
 buildiug known as the ' barracks.' Here lived the over- 
 seer, a hard-working, hard-riding, weather-beaten personage, 
 who appeared to exist in a chronic state of toil, anxiety, 
 and general lack of repose. 
 
 Three of the numerous bedrooms were tenanted by 
 young men, upon the same footing as Mr. Neuchamp, 
 neophytes, who were gradually assimilating the lore of 
 Bushland, and hoping to emulate the successful career of 
 Allan Jedwood, or other pastoral magnates. One of these 
 was a far-off kinsman, Malcolm Grahame by name, a 
 steady, persevering, self-denying Scot ; while another, Mr. 
 Fitzgerald Barrington, erst of Castle Barrington, County 
 Clare, sufficiently expressed his nationality and general 
 tendencies by his patronymic and titular designation. 
 Lastly was a brown Australian boy, of eighteen or nine- 
 teen, very sparing of his words, and prone to decry the 
 general intelligence of his comrades, from a comparison 
 of their woodcraft with his own, in which competition 
 they were, for the present, let us say, manifestly inferior. 
 
 Into this society Mr. Neuchamp voluntarily and con- 
 tentedly entered, holding that his education would be the 
 sooner completed if he graduated, so to speak, before the 
 mast, than from the captain's cabin. To the barracks
 
 XI A COLONIAL REFORMER 163 
 
 also were relegated those just too exalted for the men's 
 hut, while not eligible for the possibly distinguished com- 
 pany occasionally entertained at ' the cottage.' Such were 
 cattle-dealers, sheep -buyers, overseers of neighbouring 
 stations, and generally unaccredited travellers whose 
 manners or appearance rendered classification hazardous. 
 
 Ernest managed to have a preliminary conversation 
 with Mr. Jed wood, in which the latter gentleman, who 
 was extremely plain, not to say blunt, of speech, put his 
 position fairly before him. 
 
 'You will understand, Neuchamp,' said he, 'that, 
 though I feel bound, on account of old Paul, who was a 
 good friend to me in time past, to do what I can for you, 
 you must not look for any great amount of consideration 
 from the overseer, Mr. Doubletides, or from the other 
 youngsters. I hope you will all be treated like gentle- 
 men as long as you stay at Garrandilla, but you will be 
 made useful, and set at all sorts of work, in a way perhaps 
 that may sometimes appear strange.' 
 
 ' Not at all,' replied Ernest. ' I am as anxious as any 
 one can be to master the details of bush life, and the 
 sooner the better. I don't think you will find any false 
 delicacy about me, w^hatever may be the practical nature 
 of my employment for the present.' 
 
 ' Well, that's all right,' said Mr. Jedwood heartily. 
 ' It's the best way, too. I had to work, and devilish 
 hard, too, as a youngster, or I should never have been 
 here as master, I can tell you.' 
 
 After this conversation, Ernest was put under the 
 immediate orders of the overseer, Mr. Doubletides, who 
 speedily made it apparent to him that bush life at a large 
 station did not entirely consist of galloping about like 
 Bedouin Arabs and reposing under palm or other trees of
 
 164 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 grateful shade. Galloping about there was, doubtless ; 
 but often the rides were long, weary, and unexciting, 
 with absolutely no shade to speak of, while so continuous 
 was the routine of carrying rations, driving sheep, bringing 
 in working bullocks, carting water to out -stations, and 
 generally performing no inconsiderable amount of hardish 
 manual labour, that Mr. Neuchamp at times felt inclined 
 to adopt the same distrustful view of it all which Mr. 
 Weller took of the alphabet — 'Whether indeed it was 
 worth going through so much to learn so little.' 
 
 In any riding that might be ordered, Mr. ISTeuchamp 
 fared sumptuously compared with the other cadets, who, 
 confined to the ordinary station -hacks, were constantly 
 complaining of their roughness, insecurity, or generally 
 unamiable qualities. Osmund, now quiet, well fed, and 
 tended in the Garrandilla stables, to use Jack Windsor's 
 expression, ' went like a bird,' and daily demonstrated the 
 soundness of that gentleman's choice and opinion. 
 
 Charley Banks, the Australian youngster, admired 
 Osmund in secret very much, and at length offered Ernest 
 five pounds to boot, if he would ' swop,' or exchange him 
 for a chestnut mare which he, Charley, had bought out of 
 the neighbouring pound, 
 
 ' She's quite good enough for this work, ISTeuchamp,' 
 he remarked, ' and you might as well have the fiver in 
 your pocket as be wearing out your colt's legs for old 
 Doubletides here. Jedwood will see you far enough 
 before he gives you another one in his place, if you screw 
 him doing his work.' 
 
 ' And why would he sell or swop him at all, ye little 
 horse-racing divil, that wants to be making a blackleg of 
 yourself at the township races ? He's the only horse fit 
 to carry a gentleman I've seen this year past, and the very
 
 XI A COLONIAL REFORMER 165 
 
 moral of a horse the whipper-in of the Barrington hounds 
 rode.' 
 
 ' You be blowed/ retorted the son of the soil ; ' I don't 
 believe you rode much to hounds in Ireland or anywhere 
 else, or else you would stick on better.' 
 
 ' Stick on ! ' shouted the Milesian. ' I can ride with 
 any cornstalk that ever sat in a thing with a pillow on 
 each flap, that you call a saddle. Sure ye'd be laughed 
 out of any hunting-field in Britain if ye took one of them 
 things there.' 
 
 'Well, we can stick to 'em when we are there,' 
 sarcastically observed Mr. Banks ; ' I'll bet you the fiver 
 I was going to give Neuchamp, you don't sit for ten 
 minutes on that chestnut colt Jack Windsor's coming up 
 here with now, and he's ridden him, now it's the third 
 day.' 
 
 Charley Banks emphasised the last number of the 
 colt's daily experiences of man, as if no one but an elderly 
 capitalist, with gout or asthma, could possibly decline so 
 childishly safe a mount. 
 
 ' Pone with you ! ' shouted the roused son of Erin. 
 * One would think you conceited cornstalks had discovered 
 the horse, in this sandy wilderness of a country of yours, 
 and that no one had ever ridden or shot flying before he 
 came here.' 
 
 ' I don't know about shooting,' said the lad reflectively, 
 ' but I'm dashed if ever I saw a new arrival that could 
 sit a buck -jumper, even if he only propped straight- 
 forward, and didn't do any side -work. Anyway, we'U 
 see in about five minutes.' 
 
 Here Mr. Windsor arrived upon a bright chestnut colt, 
 with three white legs, and a blaze down the face, and a 
 considerable predominance of the same colour into the
 
 166 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 corners of his eyes, thus givmg an expression more 
 peculiar than engaging to those organs, when used for 
 the purpose of staring at the rider. In addition to these 
 peculiarities, he had an uneasy tail, always moving from 
 side to side with a feline, quietly-exasperated expression. 
 
 'Good -morning, sir,' said Jack to Ernest. 'Good- 
 morning, gentlemen all ; fine growing weather.' 
 
 ' No finer,' said Barrington ; ' how are you getting on 
 with the colts ? ' 
 
 ' Not bad,' answered the horse-tamer ; ' I've backed 
 two a week since I came, and have three in tackle, in 
 the yard now. This one's a fine colt to go, but he's 
 rather unsettled when the fit takes him.' 
 
 ' Sorry for that, for I've a bet with Mr. Banks here 
 that I'll mount him and stay on for ten minutes. Sure, 
 ye knew, ye artful colonist, that he was a divil ; you 
 won't refuse me the mount. Jack, me boy, breaker to his 
 Highness the Grand Duke of Garrandilla ? ' 
 
 ' Not I, Mr. Barrington, if you've got a neck to spare, 
 but you'll bear in mind yourself — he's a sour devil when 
 his blood's up ; and mayn't like a stranger. Though he's 
 pretty fair now.' 
 
 Here Jack slid quietly to the ground and patted the 
 colt's neck, who snorted, but when soothed was apparently 
 quiet. Barrington gained courage, and taking out his 
 watch, gave it to Ernest to hold. 
 
 ' Ten minutes,' he said ; ' and now I'll bet you all a 
 couple of pounds each, that if I come off, not one of the lot 
 of ye can ride him up to the stockyard and back.' 
 
 The bet was taken all round. Mr. Barrington with a 
 confident air advanced, and getting Windsor to hold the 
 colt closely and firmly, mounted easily and rode off. The 
 young horse apparently took no notice of the change of
 
 XI A COLONIAL REFOKMER 167 
 
 riders for some time, but walked steadily off along a bank 
 which led to the sheep-drafting yard. Barrington was 
 charmed with himself, and with his mount, whom he 
 immediately decided in his own mind to be an animal of 
 fine disposition, in danger of being spoiled, as was usual in 
 the colony, by rough breaking. As he turned back, after 
 about five minutes' ride, he concluded to favour the com- 
 pany with a trot. He therefore touched the colt with his 
 heel and slacked the rein. 
 
 Now, whether, as was very possible, though a fair and 
 very bold horseman, he did not sit with the glove-like 
 adherence to the pigskin's surface which characterised Mr. 
 Windsor's every movement, we have no means of know- 
 ing ; of matters of fact, however, as eye-witnesses, we can 
 judge. The chestnut glanced nervously back with his 
 Albino-tinged eyes, made a rapid swerve, then a diving 
 headlong plunge, instantaneously arrested. This threw 
 forward the incautious Barrington, while with sudden 
 frenzy the now fully-aroused animal bounded galvanically 
 upward with his back arched, and dropped with his mouth 
 wrenched resistlessly from the rider's hold and almost 
 touching the ground. 
 
 The suddenness of the act, joined with the convulsive 
 force of the propelling power, first tended to place Mr. 
 Barrington in a somewhat leaning position. From this 
 he was prevented from recovering his place in the saddle 
 by the lightning-like rapidity of the recurring headlong 
 plunges. Strong, fearless, and elastic with the glorious 
 activity of early manhood, he made a desperate struggle 
 to retain his seat ; but the deerlike, sidelong bounds, 
 instantaneously reversed, gave him no chance. Failing 
 to follow a terrific side leap, his equilibrium was dis- 
 turbed, the corresponding swerve sundered him and the
 
 168 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 saddle still farther, while a concluding upward bound on 
 all fours, 'propping,' so as to progress backward rather 
 than otherwise, shot him forward as from a catapult, head 
 first and clean delivered. 
 
 ' Ugh ! ugh ! shall I ever — ugh, ugh — get my wind 
 again ? Ugh — you savage, unnatural son of a — ugh — 
 gun — what right have you to be called a horse at all ? 
 Sure no one but a blackfellow, or Mexican, or a native, 
 Banks, me boy, could expect to sit on such a baste of 
 prey. Here's an order for five pounds, Charley, ye 
 villain ; they're good, as yet, and now go ride him your- 
 self, and let me enjoy myself looking on.' 
 
 Mr. Windsor, on another horse, was by this time in 
 pursuit of the excited animal, which kept snorting, kick- 
 ing, and otherwise protesting against any other interference 
 with his natural rights. 
 
 He can buck a bit,' said Charley Banks, coolly girding 
 himself for the fray by taking off his coat and tightening 
 a leathern strap which he wore round the waist, ' but if 
 you hadn't come forward, Paddy, the first time he propped, 
 he mightn't have gone to market at all. Here goes.' 
 
 The chestnut w^as soon secured by the agile and deft 
 Windsor, and held by that horse-tamer, ready for Charley 
 Banks to bestride. Having divested himself of his coat, 
 he advanced with perfectly unembarrassed mien towards 
 the alarming chestnut. Staring with homicidal glare out 
 of his white-rimmed eyes, the successful combatant was 
 standing perfectly still, but in a constrained and unnatural 
 position. 
 
 Before putting his foot in the stirrup, Mr. Banks 
 examined with long-practised eye the gear and accoutre- 
 ments. 
 
 ' Why don't you have a surcingle, Windsor ? ' he said.
 
 XI A COLONIAL REFORMER 169 
 
 ' What's a pair of girths to a colt like this ? Call your- 
 self a breaker ? Where's the crupper ? ' 
 
 ' I left them at home, Mr. Banks,' exclaimed the rough- 
 rider. ' Ben Bolt (as I christened him) was getting on so 
 nicely before you young gentlemen came in the way that 
 I never thought of wanting the regular colts' toggery. 
 Besides, it don't matter much.' 
 
 ' Doesn't it ? ' demanded the unappeased critic. ' Sup- 
 pose he sends the saddle over his withers ? How's a 
 fellow to sit him with one leg on each side of his neck ? 
 However, here goes.' 
 
 Mr. Banks, having enunciated his sentiments, quickly 
 slipped into the saddle, and putting his feet well home in 
 the stirrups, cocking up his toes, squaring his shoulders, 
 and leaning slightly back, with easy nonchalance com- 
 manded Mr. Windsor to let him go. 
 
 Freeing the tameless one on the instant, Mr. Windsor 
 retired a few steps, and awaited for the next act in the 
 performance. The colt seemed in no hurry to make use 
 of his liberty. He stood in a cramped, awkward, half- 
 asleep position. Mr. Banks touched him quietly, but he 
 made no response. 
 
 ' Oh ! hang it,' said that young gentleman, ' I did not 
 bargain to sit here all day. I'll move you.' 
 
 Suiting the action to the word, he '' put the hooks on 
 him,' as a jock would have said — in other words, gave 
 him the spurs so unreservedly that nothing less than the 
 bronze horse of San Marco or the stone charger of the Duke 
 would have borne then unmoved. Ben Bolt did not. It 
 was the match to the powder-barrel. With one wild 
 plunge and a desperate rear which nearly overbalanced 
 him, the nervous but determined animal bounded into the 
 au\ After these feats, he appeared to settle down to
 
 170 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 practical, business-like buck -jumping, impromptu, cer- 
 tainly, but of the highest order of excellence. He 
 certainly did 'go to work,' as Mr. Windsor afterwards 
 expressed it. Every known and unknown device which 
 Sathanas could have devised for the benefit of a demon 
 disguised as a horse was tried — and tried in vain. Mr. 
 Banks, swaying easily front or rear of hig saddle, never 
 lost head or seat for an instant. Brought up in a horse- 
 loving, horse-breeding district, he was familiar from child- 
 hood with every known form of practical or theoretical 
 contravention of equine illegality. He could ride as soon 
 as he could talk, and ere he wrote himself indifferently 
 man, had backed successfully scores of unbroken horses, 
 and ridden for wagers the cannibal Cruisers of more than 
 one stud. 
 
 His figure, slight, but very accurately proportioned, 
 was just above the middle height ; his features were deli- 
 cate and regular, with an approximation in the hardly 
 aquiline nose and short lip to the Greek type, by no means 
 uncommon among Australians of the second or third 
 generation. His strength was far greater than was 
 apparent, arising more from the toughness of his muscles 
 than from any great breadth or solidity ; and he had 
 astonished the Garrandilla population one day by the ease 
 with which he walked off with successive heavy bags of 
 flour upon his back, when all hands were unloading a 
 dray from Orange. 
 
 It was a pretty sight in its way, interesting enough to 
 those who love contests, far from unduly safe, between 
 men and the inferior animals, to see the ease with which 
 the boy's figure followed each frantic movement of the 
 infuriated animal, and with what perfect and apparently 
 instinctive ease he retained his perilous seat. In vain the
 
 XI A COLONIAL REFORMER 171 
 
 roused and desperate creature tried stopping, wheeling, 
 sideway and forward, and indeed backward. ISTearly 
 blown was Ben Bolt, evidently relaxing the height and 
 elasticity of his deerlike bounds. The victory was decided 
 in favour of the imperturbable horseman, in Mr. Windsor's 
 characteristic speech. 
 
 ' By the holy poker ! Mr. Banks, you've " monkeyed " 
 him enough for one while: He won't try it on with you 
 again in a hurry.' 
 
 The victorious athlete was awaiting with a smile of 
 triumph on his lips for the colt to stop and recover his 
 failing wind, when the frantic animal made a last maddened 
 rear, trembling on the balance of falling backwards till 
 the spectators held their breath ; then dashing his head 
 violently to the earth as he inverted his position, he stood 
 with arched back and forelegs stretched out before him, as 
 if he had been petrified in that position. 
 
 As he did so the saddle slid over his lowered shoulder, 
 depressed, as in a horse jumping down a precipice, and the 
 girths passing the ' elbows ' or projecting joints of the upper 
 leg underneath, moved, loosened and flapping downward 
 towards the hoofs. Mr. Banks, of course, strictly associated 
 with his saddle, could do nothing to arrest its earthward 
 progress. As saddle and bridle approached the animal's 
 ears, he threw up his head with tremendous force, catch- 
 ing the legs of Mr. Banks and casting him violently on to 
 his back, with the saddle spread out above him. That 
 young gentleman, however, held on to the bridle-rein with 
 such tenacity that the throat-lash giving way, it was jerked 
 over the horse's head, leaving the reins in the rider's 
 hands, while Ben Bolt, with a wild snorting neigh, trotted 
 off, free from all encumbrance, or, as Jack Windsor ex- 
 pressed it, ' as naked as he was born.'
 
 172 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 Every one looked extremely, grave and sympathetic as 
 the heroic Charley sat up with the saddle in his lap, until 
 he, in the mild monotone of his ordinary speech, said — 
 
 ' That's the fruits of being too lazy to put on a crupper 
 and surcingle, as any man that calls himself a horsebreaker 
 ought to do. Suppose I'd hurt myself, it would have been 
 all your fault, Windsor ! ' 
 
 Then he arose deliberately and shook himself, where- 
 upon they all burst into a great fit of laughter at his rueful 
 and injured air, as if being shot over a vicious colt's head, 
 after ten minutes' buck-jumping, was a trifling annoyance, 
 that the least care might have prevented. 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp walked over to the saddle, which he 
 carefully examined. 
 
 ' Why, the girths are still buckled on each side ! ' he 
 exclaimed with astonishment. ' How the deuce coidd the 
 brute have got the saddle over his head as he did — as he 
 certainly did ? ' 
 
 ' Bedad he did ! eh, Charley, me boy ? and that's a 
 trick of rapid horsemanship / never saw performed before 
 with my own two eyes,' said Mr. Barrington. ' There's 
 many a man, now, in my country, if I were to tell this 
 story, wouldn't believe me on my oath. They'd say it 
 was unreasonable. You might stick them, and they'd 
 never give in.' 
 
 ' I wish one of them was on that brute's back,' said 
 Mr. Banks, rubbing a portion of his frame. ' I thought I 
 was as right as ninepence, and then to be slewed that way, 
 and all for the want of a strap or two. I hate careless- 
 ness.' 
 
 ' Never mind, Banks, you sat him magnificently,' said 
 Ernest cheeringly. ' I never saw such a bit of riding in 
 my life. It will be many a day before any of us can
 
 XI A COLONIAL REFORMER 173 
 
 exhibit in the same way. I consider you fairly won your 
 bet. But still I remain unsatisfied about the saddle 
 coming off without breaking the girths. How did 
 it?' 
 
 'Well, it's this way/ said Mr. Windsor, bracing him- 
 self for explanation. ' It's not a common thing, though 
 I've seen young ones do it more than once or twice before. 
 You see, first the horse sticks down his head with his nose 
 on the ground, as if he was jumping down a well. Then 
 he plants his feet right out before him, so as his hoofs and 
 his nose are almost touching ; his legs and his neck are 
 all of a line. Young ones generally have a roundish, 
 lumpy shoulder. If the saddle slips over it, and the 
 girths over the elbows, down it must go ; and when the 
 horse draws his head backwards out of it, then you have 
 the saddle, like this one here, popped on the ground, with 
 never a girth or buckle broke.' 
 
 ' So that's the way it's done, Jack, is it ? ' inquired 
 Mr. Barrington. 'Well, if I'm forgiven for riding that 
 divil once, I'll never tempt Providence again by crossing 
 him as long as I stay at Garrandilla. I'd like to take 
 him home and exhibit him. There's many a bold rider in 
 Clare and County Eoscommon, but the divil a one would 
 stay on him for five minutes, I'll go bail.' 
 
 ' Every man to his trade,' said Jack Windsor. ' ]\Ir. 
 Banks and me have been riding ever since we were born, 
 and it isn't easy to get from under us, I'll allow. But I 
 daresay there's some other games as we shouldn't be quite 
 so smart at.' 
 
 ' I tell you what,' said Malcolm Grahame, who just 
 came on to the scene of action, 'there's Jedwood and 
 old Doubletides up at the drafting yards, waiting for 
 some of you to come up and help put through those
 
 174 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 lioggets that got boxed. The old man is swearing just 
 awfu'.' 
 
 Every one hasted at this intimation to the scene of 
 action, where the dust was ascending in a cloud, curiously 
 reminding Ernest of a Biblical passage. 
 
 Eor the rest of the day, ' Keep them up, wether, hogget, 
 ewe, weaner, slit-ear, near crop,' were the principal terms 
 and phrases interchanged. 
 
 Ernest Neuchamp speedily discovered that he had 
 reason to congratulate himself heartily upon the fact that, 
 from the never-ending work at Garrandilla, he was much 
 too tired and sleepy at night to care for conversation, or 
 to desire congenial companionship. Had he craved for 
 such ever so longingly, he would have found it impossible 
 to obtain. 
 
 Allan Jedwood, a man of singular energy and indomit- 
 able persuasion, had devoted all his powders of mind and 
 body with ceaseless, unrelaxing obstinacy to what he was 
 pleased to consider the main end of existence. 
 
 In his case, the reaching and maintaining of an inde- 
 pendent pastoral position had been the goal wdiich had 
 stood forth before his eyes, a celestial mount, but slightly 
 obscured by mists of pleasure, extravagance, or sympathy, 
 from his youth up. 
 
 In the pursuit of this somewhat restricted ideal, 
 bounded by a good station, a fine herd of cattle, forty 
 thousand sheep, and a balance at his bankers, he had 
 spared not himself. He had strongly repressed the 
 ordinary temptations, desipere in loco, to harmless dillet- 
 tanteism, to amusement, or imaginative contemplation. 
 Tendencies literary or artistic he had none. Everything 
 in his eyes that did not lead directly to the increase or 
 maintenance in good order and condition of his stock, he
 
 XI A COLONIAL REFORMER 175 
 
 had eschewed and forsworn as unprofitable, almost immoral. 
 Such was tlie rigid discipline which he had enforced over 
 his own spirit for long years. From the days that he had 
 been a hard-worked under-overseer, a toiling owner of a 
 small station, a hampered purchaser of a larger one, until 
 now, that he was sole proprietor of a magnificent unen- 
 cumbered property, he had foregone nothing of this rule 
 and regimen, and the usual effects had followed the causes. 
 Successful labour and unwearied self-denial had created 
 the position for which he had so longed and thirsted all 
 his early life through. 
 
 And yet was there a side to this picture which did not 
 call for so much gratulation. In the stern repression, the 
 pitiless starvation to which the spiritual portion of the 
 man had been subjected, the germs of all intellectual 
 and speculative tendencies had first dwindled, then 
 perished. 
 
 Unsparing vigilance, untiring concentration upon the 
 daily routine of station work, was no longer necessary to 
 the opulent possessor of stock and station, freehold and 
 leasehold, town and city property. But the habits, 
 inexorably welded into the being of the man, remained 
 fixed and unalterable, when the circumstances which 
 called them forth had long changed, long passed away. 
 Still daily, as of old, Allan Jedwood rode over * the run,' 
 among his flocks and herds, his men and his ' improve- 
 ments,' his dams, his wells, his fences, his buildings, his 
 fields, and his teams. At nightfall, returning to the 
 humble unchanged building which had sufficed for his 
 wants for many a year, he spent the short evening which 
 followed the day of hard exercise in writing business 
 letters, or in posting up station accounts ; or else, with 
 military exactitude, he arranged with Mr. Doubletides the
 
 176 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 ensuing 'order of the day/ in which drafting of sheep, 
 shifting of shepherds, mustering of cattle, and bargaining 
 with dealers, took the place of marching and counter- 
 marching, sorties and retreats, embassies and diplomatic 
 manoeuvrings. 
 
 Of the progress and potentialities of the outer world 
 — literary, artistic, social, or political — Allan Jedwood 
 knew and cared as little as any of his Highland shepherds, 
 frequently arriving from the paternal farm, who * had not 
 the English.' 
 
 In Ernest Neuchamp's zeal for mental growth, for the 
 onward march of humanity generally, and for the particular 
 community with which he was temporarily connected, 
 this stage of arrested development was very painful and 
 grievous to the soul of an enthusiast and reformer. He 
 tried all the units of the Garrandilla world, but he found 
 no rest, sesthetically, for the sole of his foot. Malcolm 
 Grahame, who exhausted whatever mental vigour he 
 possessed in trying to discover a cure for foot-rot, and in 
 improving a natural aptitude for wool-classing, bade fair 
 to become as complete and as prosperous a bucolic 
 Philistine as Jedwood himself. Fitzgerald Barrington 
 was conversational and discursive enough, in all con- 
 science, but his mental exercise chiefly took the direction 
 of regret for the joyous days he had spent in his father's 
 house and among his own people — whom, not observing 
 any near prospect of a fortune in Australia — he bitterly 
 reproached himself for having ever quitted. Besides, he 
 held no particular views about the destiny of the human 
 race, or of the Australian nation, or of any other race or 
 people but his own. He did not see the use of wasting 
 the life that could be so much more pleasantly spent in 
 hunting, shooting, feasting, flirting, four-in-hand driving,
 
 XI A COLONIAL REFORMER 177 
 
 drinking, and dicing, as became a gentleman of long descent 
 (if he only had the money), in bothering and interfering 
 with a lot of low people, not worth caring about and who 
 did not thank you the least bit. 
 
 If Mr. Charley Banks had any intellectual proclivities, 
 they had not as yet passed a rudimentary limit. He 
 smoked a good deal, read hardly at all except the sporting 
 compartments of the newspapers, took more interest in 
 the horses of the establishment than in the cattle or 
 sheep, and was always glad of an excuse to get down to 
 the public-house, or to gossip unprofitably in the men's 
 huts. 
 
 As for Mr. David Doubletides, he had long since 
 abandoned the idea that reading and writing had any 
 other connection of importance to humanity than the 
 accurate setting down and adding up of station accounts. 
 He was astir at or before dawn, on horseback all day and 
 every day, from daylight to dark, and was often sufficiently 
 tired in the evening to fall asleep with his pipe in his 
 mouth. 
 
 Tliis purely objective existence, after the excitement 
 of the first week or two, commenced to afflict Mr. Xeu- 
 champ unpleasantly. 
 
 'Good heavens!' said he to himself, 'is all the universe 
 to be narrowed down to the number of serrations in a lock 
 of merino wool ? to the weight and tallow of a drove of 
 bullocks destined for the market? This half wild life 
 is pleasant enough with the open-air rambles on horse- 
 back, and the rude occasional labour. But, strictly, as a 
 means to an end, which end is, or ought to be, the getting 
 away from here, and the leading a worthy life in a less 
 uniformly scorching land of monotony and privation, — 
 fancy one doomed to linger on year after year. I see 
 
 VOL. I X
 
 178 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 now the natural law which in desert tribes prompts 
 the pilgrimage ; without society, comfort, or companion- 
 ship.' 
 
 At this period Ernest commenced to acquire, if they 
 had been needed, additional proofs of the melancholy 
 tendency of all human efforts to crystallise into the narrow 
 unalterable shaj)e of custom. 
 
 Nothing, he admitted, could be more praiseworthy and 
 admirable than the energy, the concentrativeness, the 
 unwearied labour which Jedwood had bestowed upon the 
 formation of his position in early life. And now the 
 summit had been scaled, the goal attained, the reward 
 grasped, of what commensurate value or benefit was it, 
 now fully realised, to himself or to others ? The con- 
 tracted field of labour had become a necessity of life. 
 The means, losing their original proportions, had become 
 the end. It was as if an animal, long compelled to a 
 mill-horse round of unrelieved labour for the purpose of 
 grinding a fixed quantity of meal, had, when the task was 
 completed, voluntarily resumed the collar and gone on 
 ceaselessly accumulating an unneeded heap. 
 
 It must be confessed that, occasionally, the uncere- 
 monious manner in which Mr. Doubletides ordered Ernest 
 and the other young men to perform any minor task 
 considered by him, Doubletides, necessary to be done, 
 rather jarred upon his feelings. It was — 
 
 ' Mr. Barrington, take the old roan horse and a cart, 
 and go out to the fifteon-mile hut with a fortnight's 
 rations for Joe Watson.' 
 
 ' Mr. Grahame, see that you and Banks are up at day- 
 light to-morrow morning, or else you won't have that 
 weaner flock drafted before breakfast.' 
 
 ' Mr. Neuchamp, you had better get away as soon as
 
 XI A COLOXIAL REFORMER 179 
 
 possible, and look for those five liimdred wethers that old 
 Sails dropped at the Pine Scrub yesterday ; take some 
 grub and a tether-rope with you, and don't come home till 
 you find them.' 
 
 All this was doubtless good practice, and valuable as 
 storing up useful knowledge against the day when he 
 should possess a station and a Mr. Doubletides of his own. 
 Still it occasionally chafed him to be ordered and sent 
 about without any explanation or apology for the extreme 
 personal inconvenience occasionally involved. 
 
 As it happened, this particular sheep -hunting trip 
 became an adventure of much importance. Eiding gaily 
 upon the trusty Osmund, Mr. Neuchamp was fortunate 
 enough, after a few hours' search, to come upon the ' wing ' 
 of the wether flock which had been lost by the ex-marine 
 circumnavigator — a blasphemous old man-of-war's man, 
 referred to by an abbreviation denoting his former work. 
 
 Full of triumph, Ernest commenced to drive them in 
 the direction of the out-station, to which the remaining 
 portion of the flock had been sent. For the first hour 
 he sauntered on behind the browsing sheep, confident of 
 his direction and not doubting but that he should reach 
 a spot which he knew in good time. Sheep are not 
 particularly easy animals to drive after a few miles, and 
 it soon appeared to Ernest that the double effort of 
 driving five hundred sheep and steering straight in a 
 country without a landmark, was likely to bear hard upon 
 his woodcraft. 
 
 As the sun hung low, flaunting a vast gold-red shield 
 athwart the endless pale green waste, a sense of powerless 
 loneliness and confused ignorance of all but the cardinal 
 points of the compass took possession of him. He 
 cantered from side to side of the obstinate, and perhaps
 
 180 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 puzzled, sheep, wliicli probably had a distant impression 
 in their woolly noddles that the line of direction lay quite 
 another way. At length the red-gold blazonry faded out 
 into darksome crimson, the pale green shades became dim 
 and dullest gray — ' the stars rush out, at one stride comes 
 the dark ' — and it became fully apparent to Mr. Neuchamp 
 that he was lost. 
 
 He was sufficiently learned in the lore of the dwellers 
 in this ' land of freedom and solitude ' to know that the 
 chief duty of man when once placed in possession of stock, 
 sheep above all, is to ' stick by them ' — to stick by them, 
 as the captain lingers by the last plank of the breaking- 
 up deck, in spite of danger and death, hunger, thirst, 
 weariness, or despair. These last experiences were more 
 likely to be the portion of Ernest Neuchamp than the 
 former. Still it needed a slioiit exercise of determination 
 to face the idea of the long lonely night, and the uncertain 
 chance of discovering his whereabouts next day. 
 
 The night was long — unreasonably long — Ernest 
 thought. Sufficiently lonely as well. There were no 
 wild beasts, or robbers, likely to be ' round ' ; still there 
 was an ' eerie ' feeling about the still, solemn, soundless 
 night. The rare cry of a night-bird, the occasional rust- 
 ling made by the smaller denizens of the forest, the soft 
 murmuring of the pine-tree nigh which he had elected to 
 camp — these were all his experiences until the stars paled 
 and the dawn wind moaned fretfully, like a dreaming 
 infant. Having no culinary duties to delay him, Ernest 
 saddled up his good gray steed, roused the unwilling sheep, 
 and started forth, ready to do battle with fate in the 
 coming day. Alas 1 he struck no defined trail. He hit 
 off no leading thoroughfare. At first mid-day, and again 
 the dewy eve, which might have been so described if the
 
 XI A COLONIAL REFORMER 181 
 
 autumn rain had come — which it had not — again found 
 Mr. Neuchamp a wanderer upon the face of the earth and 
 no nearer home. As for the sheep, they found sustenance 
 without difficulty, as they ' nibbled away both night and 
 day,' all heedless of the morrow, or Mr. Neuchamp's 
 anxious brain and empty stomach. They apparently had 
 no objection to camp at the deserted out-station, which 
 had so bitterly disappointed Ernest w^hen he reached it at 
 the close of the day. 
 
 By this time, in addition to being unmistakably and 
 importunately hungry, Mr. Xeuchamp was furiously 
 thirsty. His satisfaction was great, therefore, when he 
 discovered, just outside the door of the empty hut, two 
 hogsheads filled with clean water. 
 
 He was about to plunge his head into the nearer one, 
 like an eager horse, wdien a sudden thought passed through 
 his brain, and he stopped short, with desire and dread 
 written in every line of his face. 
 
 What was the potent thought, the word of power, that 
 sufficed to arrest the step as if a precipice had opened 
 suddenly below his feet to hold back the longing lips so 
 parched and moistureless ? One word, lightning-like, 
 flashed along the wondrous telegraph of the brain. That 
 word was ' arsenic ' ! Ernest looked again at the casks. 
 The water vjas suspiciously clear. He could not trust it. 
 He knew that somewhere in that direction Mr. Double- 
 tides had been dressing the feet of lame sheep w4th a 
 solution of arsenic. He had seen in the local paper an 
 account of a thirsty shepherd and his horse similarly 
 placed. The horse drank out of one cask, the man from 
 the other. The horse died. Ernest was not sufficiently 
 tired of his life to take a philosophical view of the chances. 
 Sudden death, undignified convulsions, a visit from the
 
 182 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap, xi 
 
 coroner — an unsympathetic individual, who declined 
 minute shades of discrimination in favour of ' three star ' 
 — ' Verdict, found dead, as much arsenic internally placed 
 as would have killed a horse.' All this was uninviting, 
 non-heroic. Bordering on the heroic, however, was the 
 stern resolve to pass the night without tasting one drop 
 of the doubtfully limpid element.
 
 CHAPTEE XII 
 
 It occasionally occurs to our unresting, unreasonable 
 minds, prone, as we all are, to straining the mental vision 
 and wearying our hearts with efforts to descry the form, 
 to catch the Sibylline words, of the veiled future, that we 
 are not so very wretched in the society of the jiresent. 
 After some slight intervals of sighing for the (social) 
 fleshpots of Egypt, Mr. ISTeuchamp began to enjoy his life 
 very thoroughly, and to question whether he should be 
 so much happier after he had become a proprietor and 
 carried out his plans of regeneration. The spring had 
 set in, and nothing could be more lovely than the fresh 
 warm air, the gloriously fresh mornings, the cool calm 
 nights. 
 
 ' How happily the days of Thalaba went by ! ' His 
 health, spirits, and appetite were faultless. It was a time 
 of hope and expectation for the great event of the year. 
 The shearing was coming on, and insensibly the increase 
 of station hands. The putting into order of the disused 
 shearers' huts, wash-pens, machinery, and woolshed, spoke 
 of impending transactions of importance, and told that 
 ' the year had turned.' He had made up his mind, too, 
 that ' after shearing he would revisit the metropolis.' 
 There the moon-lighted, sea-washed verandah of Morahmee,
 
 184 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 with a slight and graceful form pacing thereon, musing 
 'in maiden meditation fancy free/ showed softly yet 
 bright, as an occasional romance gleam through the some- 
 what prosaic mist of his ordinary day-dreams. It might 
 have been the influence of the pure dry air, of the 
 oxygenated atmosphere, which caused Ernest to become 
 so very light of heart after this heroic resolution. If it 
 were so, nothing that has ever been said by enthusiastic 
 tourists in praise of the beauty and salubrity of the 
 Australian climate can he held to be in the slightest 
 degree exaggerated. 
 
 Another effect was noticeable about this time. Ernest 
 commenced to be remarked, among his observing mess- 
 mates, for a suspicious eagerness to learn and acquire all 
 the mysteries of stock farming, some of which he might 
 have previously overlooked. He delighted Mr. Double- 
 tides by his alacrity, and that grim veteran remarked that 
 in a year or two more he might be able to look after a 
 small station himself, always provided that he had a 
 careful overseer. 
 
 ' The deuce a bit you'll see of him thin, me ould 
 shepherd-driver, in a year or two, or next year either/ 
 said Barrington. ' I know the signs of it. He's going to 
 cut Garrandilla after shearing, and he's trying to suck ye, 
 like a marrow-bone, of all the fruits of all yer long hard 
 life and experience, me ould warrior. And why wouldn't 
 he ? Sure I'd be off myself and invest, if my uncle 
 would only send out the ten thousand that he promised 
 me.' 
 
 'Neihchamp manage a station!' said Malcolm Grahame. 
 ' He just knows naething whatever about foot-rot, and he 
 disna know first-combing from pieces ; it's my deleeberate 
 opinion he'll just be insolvent within the year.'
 
 XII A COLONIAL REFORMER 185 
 
 ' How do you know ? ' quoth Charley Banks. ' It's 
 half luck, seems to me. I know an old cove that only 
 branded his cattle once about every two years, and he 
 made more money than all the district put together. 
 Neuchamp's a good sort of notion about a horse, and he 
 don't drink. I'll lay six to two he ain't broke next year, 
 nor the year after.' 
 
 Garrandilla was not a fenced run. It was in the pre- 
 wire-bearing stage, preceding that daring and wondrous 
 economy of labour. At the period of which this veracious 
 chronicle treats, the older pastoral tenants were wont to 
 speak with distrust of the new-fangled idea of turning 
 large numbers of valuable sheep ' loose — literally loose, 
 by George — night and day ' in securely fenced but un- 
 guarded enclosures. 
 
 One thing was certain, they had made their money 
 mainly by the exercise of certain qualities, among which 
 were numbered, beside industry and energy, a talent for 
 organisation scarcely inferior to that required by a general 
 of division. At Garrandilla the twenty or thirty flocks, 
 averaging two thousand each, were marshalled, counted, 
 gathered, dispersed, with the punctuality, exactness, and 
 discipline of a battalion on field duty. AVere all these 
 rare endowments, these valuable habits, to be henceforth 
 of no avail ? Were the sheep to be just turned loose 
 and seen from time to time like a lot of store cattle ? 
 Were experienced shepherds, skilled overseers, henceforth 
 to be unnecessary ? And would any young inexperienced 
 individual who had brains enough to know a dingo from 
 a collie, or to see a hole in a fence when such hiatus was 
 present, do equally as well to look after five or ten thou- 
 sand sheep in a paddock, as the oldest shepherd, under 
 the orders of the smartest manaoer in the land ? These
 
 186 A COLOXIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 were serious and important questions. Mr. Jechvoocl was 
 not a man given to hurried outlay. The process of build- 
 ing up his fortune had been hard, anxious, and gradual. 
 He had no idea of reversing the process in any possible 
 casting down of that edifice. Therefore, with the afore- 
 said twenty or thirty shepherds, ration-carriers, etc., it 
 did not admit of doubt as to there being plenty of work 
 at Garrandilla. Of a truth the work was unceasing from 
 daylight on Monday morning till dark, or later, on Satur- 
 day night. Indeed Sunday was often spent by Mr. 
 Doubletides in weioiiino; out rations, and making^ out a 
 few of the men's accounts, as a species of rest from his 
 labours not unbefitting the day. 
 
 The process of general management was somewhat in 
 this wise. Each of the young men had certain flocks 
 placed in his charge ; these he was expected to count at 
 least once a week. He had a small sheep-book or journal 
 in which the name of every shepherd, with the number 
 of his flock, was entered upon a separate page, as thus : 
 'John Hogan, 14th May; 4-tooth wethers; No. 2380; 
 dead, 5; added, 14; taken out, 52 — total, 2337.' 
 
 A similar account was kept of every flock upon the 
 station, which was expected to be verified by a count at 
 any moment. This counting it was de rigueur to perform 
 early in the morning. As the shepherd usually left the 
 yard or fold soon after sunrise, and many of the flocks 
 were ten or fifteen miles from the head station, it followed 
 that the young gentleman who counted a distant flock 
 had to quit his couch at an exceedingly early hour. 
 
 Then the ration-carriers, who were always conveying 
 provisions, water, wood, all things necessary to the 
 shepherds, required in their turn supervision. 
 
 Nothing but the hardest bodily labours and unsleeping
 
 XII A COLONIAL EEFORMER 187 
 
 apprehensive vigilance kept this small army in good 
 order and efficiency. If a shepherd lost his flock, there 
 was mountino; hot haste and terrific excitement till the 
 sheep were found ; Mr. Jedwood riding and aiding person- 
 ally in the quest as if ruin was awaiting the non-arrival 
 of the flock, to pounce down upon him and his. 
 
 There was no denying that the management of Garran- 
 dilla was very successful upon the whole. The fat sheep 
 were eagerly competed for by dealers and others directly 
 it was known that they were in the market. The wool 
 brought a good though not extreme price in the home or 
 colonial markets. The station accounts were kept by 
 the storekeeper with the strict accuracy of those in a 
 merchant's office. There was no waste, no untidiness, no 
 delay, no dawdling of any kind. The men were well 
 though not extravagantly lodged and fed, after the manner 
 of the country. They received the ordinary wages, some- 
 times a shade above them. Whatever they drew from 
 the station-store was accurately debited to them, and they 
 received a cheque for the exact amount of the balance 
 upon the day of their departure. What they did with 
 the said cheque — whether they spent it in forty-eight 
 hours at the nearest inn, whether they kept their money 
 for the purpose of buying land, whether they put it into 
 the savings bank, or gambled it away — was a thing 
 unknown to Mr. Jedwood, and concerning which he never 
 troubled himself to inquire. 
 
 When Mr. Xeuchamp, in the ardour of his unquenched 
 philanthropy, questioned him about these things, he 
 declared that he had no great opinion of station-hands as a 
 
 class, that most of them were d d rascals, and that as 
 
 long as they did his work and received the pay agreed upon 
 he really did not care two straws what became of them.
 
 188 A COLONIAL EEFORMER chap. 
 
 Ernest felt this to be a very doubtful position, as 
 between master and men, and further required to know 
 whether, if he, Mr. Jedwood, took measures to locate a 
 few of his best men with their families upon the frontage 
 to the river, he would not secure an attached tenantry, 
 and be always certain of a better and readily available 
 class of labour. 
 
 To this Mr. Jedwood made answer that he should 
 consider himself to be qualifying for admission to a 
 lunatic asylum if he attempted to do any such thing. ' In 
 the first place you would lose,' he said, ' a quantity of 
 your best land, and your best water. In the next place, 
 as their stock increased they would use and spoil double 
 the quantity of land they had any legal title to. Most 
 probably they would not work for you, when you needed 
 labour, except at their own price and terms ; and if you 
 wished at any time to buy them out, they would ask and 
 compel you to give double the price they had paid. No, 
 no ; I've kept free selectors out all these years, and, as 
 long as I live here, I'll do so still.' 
 
 So Mr. N"euchamp had again to fall back upon his 
 own thoughts and excogitations. He was not convinced 
 by Mr. Jedwood, who took a narrowed, prejudiced view of 
 the case, he contended. But he arrived at the conclusion 
 in his own mind, that the amount of bodily and mental 
 labour devoted to the sheep-pasturing division of Garran- 
 dilla was exhaustingly large, and that any mode of 
 simplifying it, and reducing this great army of labourers, 
 would be very desirable. 
 
 More and more to him was it apparent daily that there 
 was no cessation, no leisure, no possible contemplative 
 comfort in a life like this. It was the same thing every 
 day. Sheep, sheep, sheep — tisque ad nauseam.
 
 XII A COLONIAL REFORMER 189 
 
 Garrandilla was a highly unrelieved establishment. 
 There were no ordinary bush distractions. There was no 
 garden. There were no buildings except those positively 
 necessary for the good guidance and government of the 
 place. Jedwood's two rooms served him for every conceiv- 
 able want here below. They really were not so much bigger 
 than the captain's cabin in the good ship which brought 
 Ernest to Australia. But they were large enough to eat, 
 drink, and sleep in twenty years since, and they were so 
 now. 
 
 At times a neighbour rode over and spent an hour or 
 two, talking sheep, of course. Occasionally a lady, from 
 sheer weariness or ennui, would accompany her husband or 
 brother, and beat up the great Mr. Jedwood's quarters for 
 a short visit. 
 
 One day Ernest was standing near the cottage in a 
 meditative position, when a gentleman rode up, having a 
 lady on either hand. Mr. Jedwood, with old-fashioned 
 gallantry, promptly assisted the fair visitors to dismount, 
 and then calling out loudly, said, ' Neuchamp, take these 
 horses over to the stable.' 
 
 Ernest walked over, and taking the horses mechani- 
 cally, w^as about to make for the stable, when one of the 
 ladies exclaimed in a tone of great astonishment, ' Mr. 
 Xeuchamp ! ' He looked up, and to his very considerable 
 surprise recognised one of the young ladies of the Middleton 
 family, his fellow-voyagers. 
 
 ' Why, what is the meaning of all this ? ' inquired Miss 
 Middleton. *I never thought to see you so generally 
 useful ; but I understand — you are staying at Garrandilla, 
 and performing the " colonial experience " probation.' 
 
 ' You have guessed it exactly with your usual acute- 
 ness. Miss Middleton,' said Ernest, who, slightly confused
 
 190 A COLONIAL KEFORMER chap. 
 
 at having to act as amateur stable-boy, had now recovered 
 his usual self-possession, — never long absent, to do him 
 justice. ' I will come in as soon as I have stabled the 
 horses/ 
 
 When Ernest returned he found the ladies evidently 
 concluding a short narrative to Mr. Jedwood, in which he 
 guessed himself to have figured. Nothing could be warmer 
 or more X3leasurable, however, than their recognition. 
 
 'And so, Mr. ISTeuchamp, here we meet, after all our 
 arguments, and passages-of-arms,' said the younger sister. 
 ' We are on our native heath, you know, so we shall take 
 the offensive. How do you find all the new theories and 
 schemes for improvement stand the climate ? ' 
 
 ' I^ot so very badly,' assented Ernest boldly. ' I am 
 biding my time, like the Master of Eavenswood. I intend 
 to cause a sensation by carrying them out wdien I have a 
 station of my own.' 
 
 ' Oh, you must get one in this district,' affirmed the 
 elder sister with determination ; ' it would be so pleasant 
 to have some one to talk to. We are living in utter 
 solitude, as far as rational conversation is concerned.' 
 
 Mr. Jedwood at this juncture 'trusted that, as they 
 did him the honour to pay him a ^dsit now and then, 
 they did not include Garrandilla in the conversational 
 solitude. ' 
 
 ' Oh, you know^, you're such an old friend. We can 
 recollect riding to Garrandilla with papa ever since we 
 could be trusted on horseback. It is one of our chief 
 pleasures and resources. But really, Mr. Jedwood, you 
 ought to build a new cottage. I used to think the old 
 hut a splendid place once, but it looks now, you must 
 confess, rather small.' 
 
 ' Two rooms for one man, ar^i that man an old bachelor,
 
 XII A COLONIAL REFORMER 191 
 
 Miss Middleton, are not so very bad. I'm used to the 
 old place. I can sit there and write my letters, and here, 
 by the chimney side, I smoke my pipe and watch the 
 embers. But I think I must put up a new place, if it's 
 only for my young lady friends. I'll see about it after 
 shearing, after shearing.' 
 
 But this promise of a comparatively palatial edifice 
 after shearing had been made, to the young ladies' 
 knowledge, for several years past, and they evidently did 
 not place much faith in it ; Miss Middleton asserting that 
 it was lucky Mr. Jedwood had not commenced life at 
 Garrandilla in a watch-box, as he most certainly would 
 have continued the use of that highly compressed apart- 
 ment. 
 
 They all laughed at this, and Mr. Middleton affected 
 to reprove his merry daughter for her sally, but the end 
 of it was that Ernest received a very cordial invitation to 
 visit his old acquaintances at their station, distant about 
 twenty miles, and mentally resolved to take an early 
 opportunity of availing himself of it. The society of 
 young ladies had been entirely out of his line since he had 
 parted with Antonia Frankston, on the verandah at 
 Morahmee. The effect was agreeable in proportion to 
 the period of compulsory withdrawal from such pleasures 
 and recreations. 
 
 Truth to tell, he was commencing to weary somewhat 
 of the eternal, never-ending merino drill. He could 
 understand a lad of seventeen or eighteen, like Charley 
 Banks, spending two or three years profitably enough in 
 the Garrandilla grind, and being better so employed than 
 anywhere else. But he, Ernest Neuchamp, was a man 
 whose years and months were of somewhat more value in 
 the world than those of a raw lad. He thought, too, that
 
 192 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 he knew about as mucli of the not very abstruse and 
 recondite lore necessary for the average management of a 
 station as he was likely to acquire in another year, or 
 any greater length of time. He resolved that, after 
 shearing, he would state his case fully to Mi\ Frankston, 
 and secure, if possible, that paternal elder's consent to his 
 purchasing a station of his own with his own money. 
 
 From time to time at long intervals, whenever by no 
 possibility could any excuse be found for working among 
 the sheep, would Mr. Doubletides summon him, the other 
 youngsters, and any unoccupied individuals that were 
 handy, and crossing the river, proceed to ' regulate the 
 cattle a bit,' as he expressed it. Jack Windsor being a 
 first-class stockman, and handy with the roping-pole, was 
 always invited to join the party. Then they would have 
 a week's mustering, branding, drafting, weaning, fat cattle 
 collecting, what not — and then every one would come back 
 much impressed with the heroism of the whole expedition, 
 and the cattle would be left to their own devices for three 
 or four months longer. These muster parties were ex- 
 tremely congenial to Mr. I^euchamp's tastes and tendencies. 
 He found the country, which was wild and hilly in places, 
 more interesting than the uniform, monotonous, but profit- 
 able campaign, where roamed the carefully-tended merino. 
 There were Alpine gorges, tiny streamlets, masses of 
 foliage, botanical treasures, and above all, a mode of life 
 more irregular, more volitional, than the daily mechanical 
 regularity with which the machinery of the ' merino-mill,' 
 as Barrington profanely called it, revolved diurnally at 
 Garrandilla proper. 
 
 Moreover there was occasionally trials of speed, of 
 bottom, of horsemanship, in thus tracking the half wild 
 cattle to their fastnesses, in which Osmund distinguished
 
 XII A COLONIAL REFORMER 193 
 
 himself, and which were more akin to the noble sport of 
 hunting than anything which Ernest had met with in 
 Australia. The driving of the great herd into the stock- 
 yard, the drafting, the roping, the branding, the cutting 
 out, all these were novelties and excitements of a very 
 high order, as they then appeared to the ardent mind of 
 Mr. Neuchamp. 
 
 So keenly did he appreciate the general work among 
 the cattle, that upon a recommendation from Mr. Double- 
 tides, who thought all time not absolutely devoted to 
 sheep and wool thoroughly wasted, he was promoted to 
 be a kind of cattle overseer. Then from time to time, 
 in company with Jack Windsor, for whose services he 
 formally petitioned, he was despatched on short but 
 pleasant missions to the cattle station when any par- 
 ticular duty of an outpost nature was required to be 
 done. 
 
 Then the friends were in their glory. Jack Windsor 
 had been brought up on a cattle station, and had a strong 
 preference for them as stock over sheep. He always 
 took care to provide an ample commissariat in case of 
 accidents, while Mr. Neuchamp armed himself against 
 the perils of a long evening or two at the hut of the 
 cattle manager by bringing a book. Thus fully accoutred 
 they would start off amid the congratulations of Barring- 
 ton and Charley Banks for a week's perfect happiness. 
 
 Why Mr. Neuchamp esteemed himself to be favoured 
 by fate in being especially selected for this department, 
 was chiefly on this account — that it opened a prospect of 
 change and comparative mental leisure. I have described 
 my hero carelessly and faintly, but the judicious reader 
 w^ill ere this have discovered that Ernest was essentially 
 less disposed to action than contemplation. Not that he 
 
 VOL. I
 
 194 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 disliked or avoided work, but he liked it in large quantities 
 rather than in small, with spaces for consideration and 
 preparation duly interspersed. 
 
 For instance, at Garrandilla it was one constant suc- 
 cession of calls and appointments and engagements. 
 ' Would Mr. Neuchamp get something out of the store ? 
 "Would he make out So-and-so's account ? Would he go 
 down and draft So-and-so's flock ? Would he be sure to 
 be up before daylight and count the sheep at the Eocky 
 Springs ? Mr. Jedwood was returning from the farthest 
 back station, and would he lead a fresh horse to meet him 
 at the fifteen-mile hut ? Would he take out a fortnight's 
 rations to old Bob, and be sure to bring in all the sheep- 
 shears ? Would he calculate the number of cubic yards 
 in the Yellow Dam, just completed, and check the store- 
 keeper's account with the contractor ? ' and so on. 
 
 Now, all these things Ernest could do, and did do — 
 as did his fellow-cadets — still the endless small succes- 
 sion troubled him. Small wonder, then, that a feeling 
 of relief and satisfaction possessed him when he got the 
 route for Warbrok, and he and Jack packed up their 
 effects and necessaries for a week's comfortable, steady, 
 solitary work among the cattle, where no complications 
 existed, and where they saw no one but a couple of stock- 
 men and old Mr. Hasbene, the manager, from the time 
 they left Garrandilla till they returned. 
 
 In the long days of tracking the outlying ' mobs ' or 
 small subdivisions of the main herd, in the unrelieved 
 wandering through ' the merry greenwood,' with its store 
 of nature's wonders — hidden "watercourses, mimic water- 
 falls, rare ferns, plants, and flowers, strange birds and 
 stranger beasts — Ernest felt the new delight and enjoy- 
 ment of a born naturalist. Then the sharp gallops, ' when
 
 XII A COLONIAL REFORMER 195 
 
 they wheeled the wild scrub cattle at the yard/ were 
 exciting and novel. 
 
 The evening, too, spent in the rude but snug building 
 that had served the cattle overseer — a laconic but humorous 
 old man who had once been a prosperous squatter — for a 
 habitation for many a year, story-telling, reading, or dozing 
 before a glowing fire, were pleasant enough in their way. 
 
 In the ordinary yard work — drafting, branding, rop- 
 ing, throwing, etc. — Mr. Neuchamp felt a strong and 
 increasing interest. When they returned to the merino 
 metropolis of Garrandilla, old Mr. Hasbene expressed his 
 regret emphatically, while Jack Windsor loudly lamented 
 the necessity of going back to school. 
 
 ' Sheep's all very well,' that gentleman would observe, 
 ' but my heart ain't never been with them like the cattle. 
 There's too much of the shopkeeping pen-and-ink racket 
 about 'em for me. Look at our storekeeper, he's writin' 
 away all day, and sometimes half the night, to keep all 
 the station accounts square. There's Mr. Doubletides, 
 he's always away before daylight, and home at all hours 
 of the night. There's some blessed flock for ever away 
 or having to be counted, or drafted, or shifted, or tar- 
 branded, or sold, or delivered ; and it's the same story 
 all the year round. There's no rest and no easy time 
 with sheep, work as hard as you will. Of course the 
 wool's a fine thing, but give me a mob of a couple or 
 three hundred head of fat cattle on the road for market 
 with a good horse under, ye and a fourteen-foot whip in 
 your hand. That's a job worth talking about — a couple 
 of thousand pounds on legs in front of ye — and precious 
 hard work in a dark night, sometimes, to keep it from 
 cuttin' right off and leavin' ye with your finger in your 
 mouth.'
 
 196 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 ' By George, Jack, you're a regular bullocky boy, 
 said old Mr. Hasbene ; ' you had better get Mr. ISTeu- 
 champ here to put you on as stockman when he buys a 
 cattle station, as I expect he will when he leaves us. If 
 I was a young man I'd go with him myself, for I see he's 
 got a real turn for the roans and reds, and there's 
 nothing like 'em.' 
 
 ' Well, we'll see,' said Ernest. ' I have a great fancy 
 for a cattle run ; and I must say, I think Jack is right 
 about the sheep. They are a great deal too much trouble, 
 especially with shepherds. I came away from England 
 to lead a quiet life in the wilderness, to have a little 
 leisure and time to think, and not to be hurried from one 
 engagement to another like a Liverpool cotton broker or 
 a stock exchange speculator.' 
 
 * I don't say there isn't money made by sheep,' re- 
 marked Mr. Hasbene, 'but cattle, to my mind, have 
 always been the most gentlemanly stock. A man does 
 his work ; it's sharp sometimes ; but then he has it over. 
 He knows what he's about, and hasn't to be always 
 " hurried up " like a Yankee dry goods clerk. I wouldn't 
 change lives with Jedwood for all the world. I live like 
 a gentleman in my small quiet way, but I'll be hanged if 
 he does.' 
 
 ' Quite right, Mr. Hasbene,' said Ernest. ' The character- 
 istics of " the gentle life," in my estimation, are occasional 
 strenuous, useful, and dignified exertion, seconded by un- 
 questioned leisure, more or less embellished by letters 
 with the aid of the arts and sciences. All this keenness 
 to amass money, land, flocks, and herds, is merely the 
 trading instinct pushed to excess, whether the owner lives 
 in a street, in a city, or a hut on a plain. However, we 
 must be off. Good-bye.'
 
 XII A COLONIAL REFORMER 197 
 
 Away they went at the rapid pace so dear to unthink- 
 ing youth, all heedless of the capital of human as of 
 equine bone and sinew, secure of a vast endowment to 
 their credit in the future, good for endless drafts and 
 extravagant cheques, while the grizzled senior rode back 
 to his lonely lodge to contest, as best might be, with three 
 months' loneliness, three months' absence of human face, 
 of human speech, laughter, or tears. It was not a gay 
 life, certainly, but such as it was, he had lived and out- 
 lived twenty odd years of it. In all human probability 
 — he was failing now — he would remain there until he 
 died. So best — where else should he go ? Geoffrey 
 Hasbene had once possessed money, friends, a good station, 
 a fair position. But indifferent luck, combined with an 
 easy, careless, liberal disposition, had caused his property 
 to drift away from him. For a time he had suffered 
 some of the evils of neglect and of poverty. Then this 
 prospect of employment was offered and thankfully 
 accepted, and for many years he had been exercising for 
 another the qualities of vigilance and economy that, in 
 the long past years, would have gathered and secured a 
 fortune for himself. 
 
 The season wore on. The mild Australian winter, 
 far different from the stern season that Mr. Neuchamp 
 had associated with that name, changed almost imper- 
 ceptibly into glowing spring — into burning summer. 
 
 The ordinary work of the station advanced. Men 
 came and went ; were hired, verbally ; retained, paid off, 
 and so on, with an undeviating regularity that savoured 
 of machinery. 
 
 With spring came all the bustle of washing and 
 shearing. Herds of men arrived at Garrandilla, and were 
 employed as sheepwashers, shearers, extra shepherds.
 
 198 A COLOXIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 watchmen, engineers, fleece-rollers, and people to do any- 
 thing that may be required and nothing in particular. 
 Much Ernest marvelled at the apparently profuse and 
 reckless manner in which men were engaged at high 
 wages, until it occurred to him one evening to reckon up, 
 with the assistance of Malcolm Grahame, the probable 
 value of the wool crop. Then he admitted that a few 
 hands or a few pounds, more or less, were not much to 
 be considered in view of such a large quantity of so high- 
 priced and so promptly convertible a commodity. 
 
 The general tone of the establishment was altered. 
 Mr. Windsor had completed his colt-breaking business, 
 and having enrolled himself as a shearer, was living in a 
 state of luxurious freedom from any kind of work, and 
 waiting with twenty or thirty other gentlemen, appar- 
 ently of independent means, the important tocsin which 
 tells of the commencement of shearing. 
 
 Barrington and Grahame were galloping about all day 
 long, from the shed to the wash-pen, looking important 
 and mysterious, while Mr. Banks was permanently 
 located at the latter place, and evidently considered 
 himself as in a great degree responsible for the reputa- 
 tion of the Garrandilla clip in the forthcoming wool 
 sales. 
 
 For Ernest, to his great satisfaction, employment had 
 been found at the cattle station, an unusual number of 
 fat stock having been sold and delivered at this par- 
 ticular season, so that he and Jack Windsor had been 
 mustering and drafting and partly delivering the said 
 beeves, until it was time for the latter gentleman to take 
 his place among the braves, who, when on the war-path, 
 on the far plains of the north-west, are, sometimes in- 
 accurately enough, styled and designated shearers.
 
 XII A COLONIAL REFORMER 199 
 
 Thus it came to pass that Ernest grew to consider 
 himself more immediately connected with the ' cattle side 
 of the run ' than the sheep ditto, and insensibly began 
 to imbibe those prejudices in favour of one description of 
 stock, which, though not capable of logical justification, 
 are often found to be sufficiently powerful to influence a 
 man's whole life. 
 
 At last, after many minor combats and skirmishes, a 
 strike among the sheepwashers, a demand for more pay 
 from the shearers, a short supply of carriers, a threatened 
 superfluity of clover-burr and grass seed — the great 
 shearing campaign was completed. 
 
 The men were paid off; the teams wool - laden 
 departed ; the shepherds returned to their homes — save 
 the mark ; Mr. Jedwood departed for town ; and for a 
 little space it really seemed as if the genius of bustle 
 would revisit Garrandilla — ' nevermore.' 
 
 Mr. Jedwood had told Ernest, before leaving, that if 
 he particularly wished to visit town before he returned 
 he was fully at liberty to do so, as Mr. Doubletides 
 would be able to manasje all there was to do for the next 
 three months, with the other youngsters, or even without 
 them. 
 
 Before he left town, Ernest would have scouted the 
 idea of leaving Garrandilla under a full twelvemonths. 
 But circumstances, it is said, constantly alter and affect 
 cases. 
 
 The circumstances were — extreme heat ; waveless 
 uniformity, not to say monotony, of existence ; the lack 
 of fresh companionship ; and finally, a strong, impetuous, 
 sudden desire for civilised life, coupled with an undefined, 
 unrecognised longing for the criticisms of Antonia Frank- 
 ston upon his new and thrilling experiences.
 
 CHAPTEE XIII 
 
 In no way does the proof more plainly reacli ns of the 
 sadly shortened space of mortal life than by the distinct 
 stages of experience and mental growth. 
 
 Looking back npon the ideal fruition of a few years, 
 we are startled to find how far we have progressed from 
 a given starting point. The store of ripened experience 
 would almost overwhelm with its garnered richness, did 
 not fate, with a malicious pleasure, forbid our profiting 
 by it. 
 
 A few lustra have rolled over, marked by fast whiten- 
 ing or receding locks, and lo ! we have attained to exact 
 conclusions concerning many things. I^o further fees are 
 necessary. Cautious are we now who once were so heed- 
 less. Eegular and methodical in business, erst unpunctual 
 and dilatory, ^ve preserve our acquittances. We are 
 industrious without spasmodic energy, cool with the dis- 
 cretion, not the madness, of valour ! But one bright- 
 haired goddess has departed with our golden youth. 
 Hope lends no gladness to the summer breeze, gilds not 
 the glowing eve, smiles not on the flowers, beckons not 
 from the cool shadows of the murmurous glade. 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp was far on the hither side of these 
 autumnal effects, so it chanced that on one fine day —
 
 CHAP. XIII A COLONIAL REFORMER 201 
 
 there had been no rain for about two months — he found 
 hunself mounted on Osmund with his face turned towards 
 the Sydney road, and with an unwonted feeling of 
 exultation in or about the cardiac region. He was 
 accompanied by Jack Windsor, who had invested a por- 
 tion of his shearing cheque in the purchase of Ben Bolt, 
 on favourable terms, as that interesting animal had 
 thrown every other one who had ever ridden him, caus- 
 ing Mr. Jedwood to be honestly glad to be rid of him. 
 
 Mr. Windsor had completed what he called a very 
 fair spell of work, for him, and having secured a pro- 
 minent cheque and a high character at the settlement, 
 after shearing, was in charity with all men, even the 
 police, and much minded to have a pleasure trip 'down 
 the country,' as he phrased the transmontane towns. 
 Hence, when Ernest invited him to accompany him to 
 Sydney, having extracted a confession that he had never 
 seen that 'kingdom by the sea,' or indeed had been a 
 stroller by the ' poluphloisboio thalasses ' at any time, he 
 readily and gratefully accepted the offer. 
 
 ' Seems queer, sir, doesn't it, that I've never seen our 
 main city or the big waterhole, as the blacks call it. 
 Somehow I've always had the luck to miss it. Not that 
 I had any powerful great longing to go. I've always 
 had some pleasant place nigh home to spend my Christ- 
 mas in, after I'd made a bit of money ; and somehow, 
 when I was once comfortable I didn't care about stirring.' 
 
 ' But I wonder that an active, intelligent fellow like 
 you. Jack, never made up your mind to go all the way 
 to Sydney, out of curiosity.' 
 
 ' Well, it is a wonder, sir ; only, somehow I've had no 
 eddication, as I told you before, and chaps like me, as 
 don't know much except about bush things, haven't as
 
 202 A COLOXIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 much curiosity, I think, as other people. Sydney's only 
 a bigger town than Campbelltown, or Yass, or Goulburn, 
 and what's there to see in them if fifty of 'em was rolled 
 up together ? That's the way I used to talk.' 
 
 ' But the sea, Jack, the sea ! you haven't the sea in 
 Yass or Goulburn.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I know that, sir. Bless you, now I am quite 
 different, since you took the trouble to learn me to read 
 and write a bit.' (Mr. Neuchamp had so utilised the 
 evenings at the cattle station and other quiet places.) 
 ' I'm always thinking what a stupid beggar I've been to 
 have been contented with the life I used to lead. Just 
 like an old working bullock in a lucerne field, grubbing 
 away and never raisin' his head till it was time to lay 
 down. You've made a man of me, sir, that's what you 
 have. I hope I'll be able to make you think some day 
 — " Well, he wasn't a bad feUow after all." ' 
 
 ' I think so now, Jack ; I always have thought so 
 from the first time I saw you.' 
 
 Mr. Windsor here groaned out a curse upon some one 
 of Eve's daughters unknown to this chronicler. 
 
 ' What a regular more-pork I was to be sure, to go 
 and run my neck agin' a roping-pole, and all for a — false 
 jade, who'd have come to see me hanged, I believe, and 
 laughed at the sight — blank her.' 
 
 ' You are not the first man, Jack, and will not be the 
 last,' quoth Ernest, ' who has been started on the down- 
 ward road by the same agency. But I hope you will 
 always perceive, when accusing another, that unless you 
 had been that particular sort of fool that bad luck is 
 exciting one to turn into a rogue, her influence would 
 have been quite insufficient. We may as well drop the 
 subject, for ever; but it will do you no harm to look
 
 XIII A COLONIAL REFORMER 203 
 
 sometimes, without witnesses, at the precipice you passed 
 so closel3\' 
 
 Mr. John Windsor, naturally one of the cheeriest of 
 mortals, for which temperament he had to thank a 
 Milesian ancestress, showed no inclination to revert to 
 this painful topic. On the contrary, as they approached 
 the more settled country which lay between Garrandilla 
 and the railway terminus, he entertained Ernest much by 
 his oialve and acute observations. His companionship 
 was always valuable in other respects. He knew all the 
 by-tracks and short cuts, by availing themselves of which 
 the road was materially shortened. 
 
 At nightfall, wherever they happened to be, Jack took 
 all charge and responsibility as to the horses out of 
 Ernest's hands. He saw that Osmund received full 
 justice in the inn stables, if they happened to stay at one of 
 the village hostelries ; or if compelled to turn out he affixed 
 the hobbles, and following the track (slotwise) at dawn of 
 day, regularly and efficiently produced the hackneys 
 saddled and accoutred at the proper after-breakfast hour. 
 Full of anecdote, flavoured with the purest Australian 
 slang, all unconsciously used, he was a never-failing mine 
 of interest and amusement. 
 
 They passed the railway terminus, as Ernest had de- 
 cided to ride down the whole distance, being not unwill- 
 ing to exhibit Osmund, now 'prompt in his paces, cool, 
 and bold,' and after the summer grasses of Garrandilla, 
 sleek and ' on his top ' in point of condition. He pictured 
 himself cantering along the pleasant seaside ways around 
 Sydney, and if a vision occasionally mingled with his 
 reveries of a fair girlish shape, all the more graceful in 
 the riding-habit of the period, not far from his side, was 
 it not the natural outcome of the double summer time,
 
 204 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 the pleasant season of the land, and the fairy-time that 
 comes but once — the thrice golden spring of youth ? 
 With these ' companions of Sintram ' not ominous and 
 threatening, but full of high hope, of purpose, and of all 
 mighty dreams, pleasantly he paced on over the rocky, 
 fast descendinsj mountain tracks. 
 
 ' Eum road this, sir, for coachino;,' said Mr. Windsor. 
 ' I've been up and down here many a time, by night and 
 day, good weather and bad, in the old times, many years 
 before the Zig Zag w^as chopped out of the sidelings. 
 I've been glad enough to see the bottom of the hill at 
 Mount Victoria, once or twice, with a queer team and the 
 brake not over good.' 
 
 ' I should say if anything happened to tliatl said 
 Ernest, looking over the sheer drop of a couple of hundred 
 feet which overhung the rugged boulders below, ' the 
 insured passengers would have a chance of r,ealising on 
 their policies, as a Yankee would say.' 
 
 ' Thino's went somethinsp in that line one nio^ht, when 
 I was aboard,' answ^ered Jack, a little thoughtfully. * I 
 never want to see another start like it. Once is enough 
 of that kind of fun.' 
 
 ' What was that ? ' 
 
 ' Well, sir,' commenced Jack, settling himself on the 
 watchful, untamed animal, who thereupon promptly 
 assumed an attitude of armed vigilance, which caused 
 Mr. Windsor to dig the spurs into him and adjure him 
 to do his w^orst, ' it was this way — 
 
 ' It was a dark, wet, stormy night, the roads fearful ; 
 we were^ that heavy loaded that it took all Sacramento 
 Ned could do (he was a Californian, and the best whip / 
 ever saw that's seen a few, and that before King Cobb 
 was heard of on the Sydney side) to keep from going over
 
 XIII 
 
 A COLONIAL REFORMER 205 
 
 in some of the waggon tracks. I was on the box with 
 him, and we'd made friends like, as he could see I was a 
 bit in the horse line. 
 
 ' He was a great tall, powerful chap, with a big fair 
 beard, and the way he could rattle five horses and a 
 loaded coach in and out of the creeks and w^inding bush 
 tracks, was a sight to see. Well, he'd been very down- 
 hearted all day about something, and at last he says to 
 me, " Jack, old man, I can't tell what in thunder's come 
 over me this trip ; it's my last one on this line, for I've 
 saved up a fairish pile and I'm going back to my people, 
 to turn farmer in the old state for the rest of my days ; 
 I suppose it's the infernal weather. Well, here we are ; 
 look alive there, you chaps. Hold the reins for a 
 minute. Jack, while I look at the brake." 
 
 ' Well, the fresh team was waiting by the door ; they're 
 desperate punctual those American chaps, and the time 
 was none too much as they had allowed them then. 
 
 ' I could hear him sing out for the blacksmith, whose 
 forge was nigh the inn — he contracted for their work. 
 When he came, he swore at him in a way that man hadn't 
 been used to ; by George, he coidcl swear when he tackled 
 it, though he was a quiet chap as didn't talk much 
 generally. 
 
 ' Well, he made him put in another bolt, and said he 
 should report him to the road manager; then he took 
 hold of the reins the three leaders was hitched to, and 
 away we went.' 
 
 ' He wasn't intoxicated, I suppose ? ' inquired Ernest. 
 
 ' As sober as we are now, sir. For when he got up, 
 he says, " I'd have been all the better for a nip. Jack, but 
 just because of the place being risky, and the night extra 
 bad, I wouldn't have one." We had the five lamps, of
 
 206 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 course — two on each side, two higher up, and one atop of 
 alL ISTed lit a cigar, pulled on his gloves, and off we 
 went. 
 
 ' The team was in grand order, three leaders and a pair 
 of great upstanding half-bred horses at the w^heel, all in 
 top condition and fit to pull any fellow's arm off. How- 
 ever, they'd a man behind 'em, and when they jumped off 
 he steadied 'em as easy as a pair of buggy horses. 
 
 ' You know what the road's like. We rattled along a 
 fair pace, but well in hand, though the horses pulled 
 like devils, and I had my foot on the brake, on the near 
 side, just to help him. 
 
 ' We were about half way down, and I was wondering 
 what time we should make Penrith, when I felt the near 
 wheeler make a sudden rush, and Ned said in a thick, 
 changed voice — 
 
 ' " By , the brake's gone ! " - 
 
 ' '' You don't say so," says I ; "it can't be." — " You'll 
 darned soon find out. Jack," says he, gathering up the 
 reins and bracing himself for the struggle with death. 
 " Blast that infernal blacksmith, he ou2;ht to be alonoj 
 with us now." 
 
 ' By this time the team had broken into a wild gallop, 
 and were racing down the narrow, winding road, with a 
 couple of feet, sometimes less, between us and a five 
 hundred feet drop among the rocks. There was no 
 breeching harness on the wheelers ; Americans don't use 
 it, but trust all to the brake. Ours was gone. And the 
 pace we were going down that road was enough to scare 
 the boldest man that ever handled leather. 
 
 ' Ned was as cool and determined as if it was a salt- 
 bush plain. He held the mad team true and straight, 
 and trusted, I could see, to pulling them up on the long
 
 XIII A COLONIAL REFORMER 207 
 
 flat at the bottom of the hill. If we got there. If ! Of 
 course, the only little chance was to let them go best 
 pace and guide them. The slightest pull up would have 
 sent us sideways over the black rocks, half a mile below. 
 
 ' It was a strange sight, I tell you, sir. Ned's face 
 was pale but set hard, the muscles of his arms showed 
 like cords, his eyes shining and steady, looking forward 
 through the dark ; the great lam^^s swinging wide with 
 the rolling of the coach. As we turned one corner we 
 hung nearly over the cliff, just shaved it. The women 
 inside kept up a dismal screaming ; the men looked out 
 and said nothing. 
 
 ' " We may do it yet, Jack," he said, " if we can clear 
 those cursed guard-logs near the bottom." 
 
 ' " Eight you are, Xed," says I, to cheer him. I was 
 afraid of them myself. 
 
 ' Xow a'most at the bottom of the hill the road had 
 been new metalled, and as the track was broader and 
 clear of the sideling, the road contractor, damn him, had 
 placed a whole lot of heavy logs on both sides of the 
 metal. I never could see the pull of it myself, except to 
 make accidents easy. 
 
 ' Well, at the last corner, Ned had to keep as near as 
 he dared to the edge to turn the coach. The pace was 
 frightful by this time, the coach on the swing ; and before 
 he could get in from his turn she hit one of these ugly 
 butts and, balancing for a bit, fell over with a crash that 
 I can hear now, dragged for a second or two, then lay on 
 her side with the top wheels still going round and the 
 team struggling and kicking in a heap together. 
 
 ' I don't know how many rods I was pitched. But 
 when I found I wasn't killed I picked myself up and 
 went to help out the insides. It was an ugly sight.
 
 208 A COLOXIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 Some were frightened to death, and wouldn't stir. Some 
 had broken limbs. Two ivere dead — one woman with 
 her baby safe in her arms. We got 'em all out of it with 
 the help of those passengers who, like me, were only 
 shaken a bit. 
 
 ' " There's something wrong with Ned," says I, " or 
 he'd have been among us by this time. There's one lamp 
 alight, fetch it along." So we looked about and round, 
 and after a bit we found him lying on his face with his 
 whip in his hand, stone dead. Poor Ned ! ' 
 
 ' A sad and terrible accident,' said Ernest. ' What 
 did you all do ? ' 
 
 'We straightened the horses after a bit — there was 
 two dead and one with a broken leg of them ; and I rode 
 horseback to the next stage and sent a team back for 'em. 
 They got in next day. But I shall always think poor 
 Ned had a kind of feeling beforehand.' 
 
 ' It was not his fault, poor fellow.' 
 
 ' Fault, sir ? he was the carefullest chap I ever see. 
 It all lay between that idle rascal of a blacksmith and 
 the wooden-headed road contractor that put them guard- 
 logs down.' 
 
 ' It is safer on horseback, as we are,' remarked Mr. 
 Neuchamp, ' unless we travelled as I did coming up. I 
 rather prefer a horse, though, I must say.' 
 
 ' Well, it seems more natural like,' said Jack reflectively, 
 giving Ben Bolt a playful touch with the spurs, which 
 caused that tameless steed to jump on one side in a fashion 
 that might have been dangerous to a less resolute horse- 
 man. ' Nothing like a good horse under a man ; then 
 he's ready for anything or anybody.' 
 
 Once more the great meadows and broad river, 
 majestically winding, which needs but the ruined castle
 
 XIII A COLONIAL REFORMER 209 
 
 on its scarped sandstone cliff to render it in some aspects 
 equal in picturesque beauty to the ' castled Ehine.' 
 Once more the semi-tropical warmth ; the soft, luscious, 
 enervating breeze of the southern seas ; the half-effaced 
 traces of ancient labour ; the patient, plodding industry 
 and general evidence of village life. 
 
 Ernest pressed on until they reached Walton's inn, 
 where he took it into his head to stop for the night before 
 they reached Sydney. Drawing rein at the door, he left 
 Osmund in charge of Mr. AVindsor, and marched into the 
 clean taproom with a considerably altered air and general 
 expression from those of his first visit. 
 
 The old woman was absent, but Carry, hearing some 
 one in the room, came hastily in and stared for a moment 
 in astonishment. 
 
 *AYell, I declare,' said she at length, 'if it isn't Mr. 
 Newchum ! How you have altered ; got so sunburned 
 too. I hardly should have known you. Well, it's very 
 good of you to come and see us again. Mother will be 
 ever so pleased.' 
 
 ' I thank you for your welcome. Carry,' said Ernest, 
 smiling at the honest pleasure so clearly shown in the 
 girl's face ; ' I have a servant with me and two horses — 
 can you put us up for the night ? ' 
 
 ' Oh yes. George will be round directly, if your man 
 will take the horses into the yard. So you're not walking 
 now ? ' asked she, with rather a mischievous look. 
 
 ' No, Carry, it takes too much time, not that it isn't 
 pleasant enough ; but I suppose I shall get into all your 
 lazy ways in time. Mind you take care of my man ; he's 
 a capital fellow and a favourite of mine.' 
 
 ' Is he a native ? ' asked the girl. 
 
 ' Yes, a countryman of yours,' said Ernest. 
 
 VOL. I p
 
 210 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 ' Then lie can take care of himself/ said the damsel 
 decidedly. 'I'll show you your room, sir, and see about 
 your tea.' 
 
 It may be safely held that nothing is much more 
 enjoyable in its way than a snug roadside inn, where the 
 host and attendants are cheerfully willing to minister to 
 the comfort of the wayfarer. The food may be plain, 
 the cooking homely, but the prompt and unchilled service 
 atones fully for want of artistic merit ; and if the traveller 
 carries with him the inimitable condiments of appetite 
 and reasonable fatigue, the simple meal is a banquet for 
 the gods, and sweet sleep arrives without delay to lull the 
 satisfied traveller into luxurious dreamless rest. 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp thought that no club dinner had ever 
 more thoroughly satisfied his every sense than the broiled 
 steak, the fresh butter, the toast and eggs, all placed upon 
 a snowy tablecloth, which the neat -fingered Carry put 
 before him. 
 
 Before retiring, Ernest made a point of visiting his 
 horse, as should every horseman worthy of the name. 
 He found that trusty steed and the uncertain Ben Bolt 
 up to their knees in straw, with their racks full of well- 
 saved oaten hay, than which no horse, from England's 
 meads to the sand -strewn pastures where the desert 
 courser roams, can desire better provender. 
 
 In returning from his excursion he chanced upon a 
 partie-carree composed of George Walton, his mother, 
 sister, and Mr. John Windsor, who was evidently the lion 
 of the evening, to judge by the way he was holding forth, 
 and the respectful admiration with which his tales of 
 flood and field were received. Among these moving 
 adventures Ernest caught the sound of some reference to 
 a sailing match, in which, as usual, fortune had smiled on
 
 XIII A COLONIAL REFORMER 211 
 
 the brave. Knowing that the mighty ocean was as yet a 
 wonder unwitnessed by the bold Australian, this ex- 
 perience struck him as improbable, to say the least of it. 
 However, he always permitted Master Jack to encounter 
 his monde after his own fashion, not doubting but that 
 his ready wit and fertility of resource would bring him 
 forth unharmed of reputation. 
 
 On the following morning, therefore, after a breakfast 
 worthy of the glorious supper which he long afterwards 
 recalled, horses and riders in exuberant spirits, they set 
 forth for the easy concluding stage. 
 
 The household turned out to witness their departure. 
 
 ' It puts me and my good man in mind of old times/ 
 said the aged hostess, ' to have a gentleman stay the night 
 and see horses like them in the stable again. Not as I 
 like that chestnut willin.' (Ben Bolt, by the way, had 
 nearly settled George Walton's career in life, permanently 
 if not brilliantly, as he unguardedly approached the 
 ' irreconcilable.') ' It's done us all good, sir, and I hope 
 you won't forget to give us a call when you're leaving 
 town.' 
 
 ' It has done us good, I can vouch for,' said Ernest 
 heartily, as he observed his follower's bold eyes fixed upon 
 Carry's features with unmistakable admiration. ' I shall 
 always think of you all as my earliest friends in Australia. 
 Good-bye, George; good-bye. Carry — we must pay you 
 another visit when we start back, after our holiday is up.' 
 
 ' That's something like a place to stop at,' observed 
 Mr. Windsor, in a tone of deep appreciation, as they 
 passed cheerfully onward, after a mile or two's silence. 
 * Eeal nice people, ain't they, sir ? What a house they 
 must have kept in the old coaching days ! One thing, 
 they wouldn't have had time to have waited much on us
 
 212 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 then, with the up coach leaving and the down one just 
 coming in, and the whole place full of hungry passengers. 
 How did you ever come to find the old place out, sir ? ' 
 
 ' It was the first inn I saw in Australia that took my 
 fancy. Jack. I had had many a cruise on foot in Eng- 
 land ; gentlemen often take a walking tour there for the 
 fun of the thing ; you know the distances are not so great, 
 the weather is cooler, and there is every inducement for 
 young strong men to ramble about the green hills and 
 dales of old England, where you may sit under the walls 
 of a ruined castle a thousand years old, or watch the same 
 sort of trout in the brook by the monastery that the 
 monks loved on their fast days centuries ago.' 
 
 ' That must be jolly enough for a gentleman with his 
 purse full of money and his head chock-full of learning, 
 knowing all the names of the people as lived and died 
 there before he was born. But for one of us chaps, as 
 can't see nothing but a heap of old stones and a lot of 
 out-and-out green feed, why, there's no particular pull 
 in it.' 
 
 ' But there's nothing to hinder a man like you from 
 knowing as much as other people in a general way, if you 
 can read. Books are cheap, and plentiful. Heaven knows.' 
 
 ' Well, sir, it does seem hard for a fellow like me to 
 know very little more than a black fellow, as one might 
 say ; that's how lots of us takes to drink, just for want of 
 something to think about. Sometimes it's easy to do a 
 chap good.' 
 
 ' But it always ruins a man in the long run, perhaps 
 kills him right out.' 
 
 * That's all very well, sir, only look at his part of it : a 
 man comes in from a long spell of bush work — splitting, 
 fencing, dam-making, cattle-droving, what not — into one
 
 XIII A COLONIAL REFORMER 213 
 
 of these bush townships. He's tired to death of sheep 
 and cattle or gum-trees ; or perhaps he's been in some 
 place, all plains for a hundred miles with never a tree or 
 a stone ; all he's seen has been the overseer to measure 
 his work, his mates that he worked with, the regular tea, 
 damper, and mutton, day after day ; perhaps flies and 
 mosquitoes enough to eat him alive. Well, he's had a 
 year of this sort of thing, perhaps two; say he's never 
 smelt grog all the time.' 
 
 ' All the better for him too,' said Ernest ; ' see what 
 splendid hard condition he's in ; fit to go for a man's life.' 
 
 ' That's all right, sir, but he's so precious dull and 
 hungry for a change that he feels ready to go to h — 1 
 for a lark, as the saying is ; so he comes to the public- 
 house bar, in some hole of a bush township, and the first 
 glass of grog he gets makes him feel like a new man, in a 
 new worlcV 
 
 ' Well, why doesn't he stop there ? ' 
 
 ' He can't,' continued Jack, ' else he'd slip back, so of 
 course he takes another, and the stuff is ever so bad, 
 rough, very like tobacco in it, or some rascally drug, but 
 it's strong, and it's the strength he craves for, from the 
 tips of his fingers to the very inside of the marrow of 
 his bones ; when that glass is swallowed he has forgotten 
 that he is a poor, ignorant, working man ; he knoius he's 
 a sort of king ; every good thing he's thought of in his 
 life is a-coming to him ; he's to be rich, happy, clever, 
 able to marry the girl he likes ; if any man looks at him 
 he can knock his head off — ten men's heads off ! Drink ? 
 Fifty glasses wouldn't make Mm drunk ! Capital grog 
 it is too ; feels more sober every glass he takes ; land- 
 lord's splendid fellow ; must have some more drink ; and 
 so on.'
 
 214 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 ' But how do you know a man has all these grand 
 ideas ? I grant it's enticing.' 
 
 ' Because Fve passed through it all myself! said the 
 henchman grimly, yet with a half air of shame and 
 regret. ' I've been on the burst, as we call it, more than 
 once or twice either, worse luck.' 
 
 ' I hope you never will again. Jack.' 
 
 ' I think not, sir, if I know it. But a man shouldn't 
 
 be too sure. It's an awful craving, by . It drags 
 
 you by your very heart-strings, once you get it right.' 
 
 ' But you don't mean to say there's any fun in a 
 week's drink at a wretched pot-house, even if the first 
 hour is as good as you say. Then the waking up ! ' 
 
 ' But there is fun in it,' persisted the poor relation, 
 ' else why do hundreds and thousands do it ? All these 
 chaps are not fools, much less lazy ; it's the hardest 
 workers and best hands among us working chaps that's 
 the worst drinkers, by odds. As to the waking up, as 
 you say, it's bad enough, but a strong man gets over it 
 in a day or two, and tackles his bread and meat, and his 
 work, pretty much as usual till the time of the next 
 spree comes round.' 
 
 ' But what a fool a man must think himself,' said 
 Ernest, ' at the end of a week, when he finds that he has 
 spent all the fruit of a year's labour, and is obliged to 
 begin another solitary weary year.' 
 
 ' It is bad, as you say, sir. You're quite right ; but 
 right's one thing and human nature's another, in the 
 bush, anyhow. I remember coming to myself in the 
 dead-house of a bush inn once, and I felt like a dead 
 man too ; the parson had been preaching at our wool- 
 shed the week before, and that text came into my head, 
 and kept ringing through it like a hundred bullock bells.'
 
 XIII A COLONIAL REFORMER 215 
 
 ' And what was it, Jack ? ' 
 
 ' " In hell he lifted up his eyes." I ain't very likely 
 to forget. He gave us a great dressin' down for drink 
 and swearing, and bad ways, and so on. We deserved it 
 right enough, and his words struck.' 
 
 ' What did you do then ? ' 
 
 ' I just crawled into the bar, sir, and when the land- 
 lord gave me a nip I put it on the counter and bent 
 down to it ; blessed if my hand wasn't too shaky to hold 
 it.' 
 
 ' " How much is left of my cheque ? " says I. " Forty- 
 three twelve six, it was.' 
 
 ' " Not a blessed shilling," says he ; " you've been treat- 
 ing all round, and having champagne like water ; it ain't 
 likely a small cheque like that would last long." 
 
 * " Give me a loaf," says I, " and we'll cry quits." A 
 bushman never disputes his grog score. If he's been a 
 fool, he's willing to uphold it. So off I went and walked 
 straight along the road, and slept under a tree that night. 
 Next day I was better ; and the third day I got a billet, 
 and was as well as ever I was in my life. I had one or 
 two sprees after that, but never such an out-and-out 
 desperate one again.' 
 
 Ernest Neuchamp looked at the clear eyes and 
 healthy bronzed skin of the man as he spoke, noble in 
 all the marvellous grace and strength of godlike youth, 
 and thought how deep the pity that such a spirit, such a 
 frame, should sink into the drunkard's nerveless, hopeless, 
 shapeless life in death. 
 
 He rode onward more than a mile in silence and deep 
 thought, then he spoke — 
 
 ' I cannot say with truth, Jack, that I feel inclined to 
 abuse and condemn wholesale everybody and everything
 
 216 A 'COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 connected with intemperance, casual or habitual. I see 
 in it a habit — say a vice — to which the most energetic, 
 intelligent, and industrious of our race have been prone 
 since the dawn of history. Where circumstance is in- 
 variable there must be an underlying law. I forget, you 
 don't understand this sort of talk. But, you will admit 
 that it's a bad thing — a thing that grows upon a man 
 till it eats out his will, like a grub in the root of a plant, 
 and then, man or plant withers and dies. Now you're a 
 practical man of wide experience, you know that I mean 
 what I say chiefly, and I want to see my way to do good 
 in this matter. What's the likeliest cure, in your 
 opinion ? ' 
 
 ' As to that, sir,' said Mr. Windsor, settling himself 
 so suspiciously in the saddle that Ben Bolt arched his 
 back and made ready for hostile action, ' I should be 
 cock-sure that having an empty cobbra, as the blacks say, 
 was on the main track that led to the grog-camp, only 
 that the best eddicated chaps are the worst lushingtons 
 when they give way at all. Perhaps they remember old 
 times too well, if they've come down in the world. But 
 I've noticed that a working man as likes reading, and is 
 always looking out for a new book, or thinks he knows 
 something as will alter the pull of money over labour 
 — he's a very unlikely card to drink much. If he gets 
 a paper with a long letter in it, or a working man's yarn 
 in a book, he goes home as happy as a king, and reads 
 away to his wife, or sits up half the night spelling it out. 
 He don't drink. Even if he spouts a bit at the public, 
 he talks a deal more than he swipes.' 
 
 ' I am quite of your opinion. Jack ; the more a man 
 knows, the more he wants to know. Then he must read ; 
 if he reads steadily all his spare time, he finds his drink-
 
 XIII A COLONIAL REFORMER 217 
 
 ing companions low and dull, and thinks it a great waste 
 of time to be shouting out foolish songs or idle talk for 
 four or five hours that would put him half way through 
 a new book. Besides, he has become good company for 
 himself, which your drinking man is not.' 
 
 'That's the best reason of all, sir,' heartily assented 
 his follower. ' It is hard lines on those chaps that can 
 only talk about horses or cattle, or crops, or bullock 
 driving. When they're by themselves they can only 
 sulk. It's natural that they should want other men to 
 talk to, and then it's hard work to make any fun without 
 the grog.' 
 
 'And there's another very powerful beverage/ con- 
 tinued Ernest, 'that has been known to preserve men 
 from the snare of strong drink, when nothing else would.' 
 
 ' What's that, sir ? ' 
 
 ' The influence of a good woman, John. The hope to 
 win her some day by prudence and self-denial; the 
 endeavour to be worthy of her; or the determination to 
 give the best part of one's life to the comfort and happi- 
 ness of her and her children, after she is a wife.' 
 
 ' By the holy poker, sir,' shouted Mr. Windsor, roused 
 out of his usual cool demeanour, ' you've just hit it there ; 
 there's no man worth calling a man as wouldn't work 
 himself to skin and bone, and suffer thirst till his tongue 
 hung out, if he could make himself of some account in 
 the eyes of some women I've seen. There's a girl that 
 we saw no later than last night, sir — you know who I 
 mean ; by George, if she'd only hold up her finger I'd 
 live on rice and pickles like a Chinaman to the end of 
 my days, and sniff at a glass of grog like old Watch does.' 
 
 ' Very good resolution, Jack ; and Carry Walton is as 
 nice a girl, and as good, I'm sure, as ever tempted a man
 
 218 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 to make good resolutions. I quite approve of your 
 taste. Indeed, she's a great friend of mine, and if you 
 like to show what stuff you are really made of, I'll see 
 what I can do to give you a helping hand.' 
 
 John Windsor did not speak for some time. He 
 looked before him for a few seconds as if watching the 
 far sky-line on the great primeval wastes where his 
 youth had been passed. Then he turned with a grave 
 and sobered expression, very different from the one 
 habitual to his somewhat reckless demeanour. ' I don't 
 like to say much, sir — talking isn't my line, when I mean 
 anything — but if you're good enough to be bothered with 
 me for a year or two, and if I get that girl for a wife, 
 and keep her as she ought to be kept by my own 
 industry, you'll have a man as wiU work for you, ride for 
 you, or fight for you, as long as you want any one on 
 this side.' 
 
 'I know that. Jack,' said Mr. Neuchamp, looking 
 feelingly at the heightened colour and speaking expres- 
 sion of his follower ; ' and if I have any claim beyond 
 gratitude, you cannot repay it more effectually, and more 
 agreeably to my mind, than by acting in such a way as 
 to make people talk of you by and by as an industrious, 
 steady, and I am sure they will add, clever and success- 
 ful man.' 
 
 Jack's manly face glowed, and his brown eyes glis- 
 tened at this encouraging statement; but he refrained 
 from further speech until they reached the broad arterial 
 thoroughfare which, from all the great western and 
 southern provinces, leads into the most beautiful city in 
 Australia. 
 
 'This looks something like a crowd, sir. What a 
 mob of houses, people, cabs, teams, men, women, and
 
 XIII A COLONIAL REFORMER 219 
 
 children ! What in the name of fortune do they all do, 
 and where do they all go at night ? Well, I never 
 thought the town was as big as this. Confound the 
 horse ' (this to Ben Bolt, who lashed out at a passing 
 hansom), ' he'll kill some one yet before he's safe in the 
 stable.' 
 
 Perhaps a city is never seen to such advantage as 
 after a considerable sojourn in the provinces, at sea, or 
 in any such other distant or isolated abode, where the 
 dweller is necessarily debarred from the required licenses 
 of civilisation. At such a time the sensations, keenly 
 sharpened by abstinence, do more than justice to the 
 real, even to the apparent, advantages of that aggrega- 
 tion of human atoms known as a city. 
 
 The returning or arriving traveller revels in the real 
 and supposititious treasures of this newly -discovered 
 fairyland. The predominance and accessibility of 
 wonders ; the daily presence of friends, acquaintances, 
 strangers, and notables, dazzle and deceive the eye long 
 accustomed to the rare presentment of such personages ; 
 the public buildings, the parks, the intellectual and 
 artistic treasure-houses, the higher standard of appear- 
 ance, dress — all combine to excite and animate the mind. 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp had been familiar with divers capitals 
 of considerably greater pretensions, and of world-wide 
 historic rank and ^reputation. London had been his 
 home, Paris his holiday retreat ; Eome, Venice, Vienna, 
 his occasional residence. But he thought he had never 
 before felt so high and genuine a degree of exhilaration 
 when returning to any of those great cities after an 
 absence, as he now acknowledged in every vein and 
 pulse, as he rode up the not particularly gorgeous avenue 
 of Brickfield Hill, and passing the railway station,
 
 220 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 decided to thread George Street and, depositing the 
 horses at a snug stable he knew of, find his way once more 
 to the office of Paul Frankston and Co. 
 
 It would be unjust to Mr. Neuchamp to say that this 
 name and its concomitant associations had not been many 
 times unquestioned and sole possessors of his thoughts. 
 Many a time and oft had he wondered whether the 
 household remained exactly in statu qiio. Did the old 
 man return nightly to his dinner, his cigar, his seat in 
 the verandah, and his unfailing request to Antonia to 
 play and sing ? He could fancy her pleasant smile as 
 she sat down to the instrument, and her cheerful per- 
 formance of the somewhat old-fashioned tunes and 
 melodies that her father loved. 
 
 And had she made any fresh acquaintances ? Were 
 any other newly-arrived colonists kindly greeted and put 
 upon terms of familiar hospitality like himself? That 
 sort of thing might be carried too far. Extremely enter- 
 taining young fellows emigrated, and a few that he could 
 name were unmistakably ' bad eggs.' 
 
 However, he would very soon see if anything of the 
 kind, any shadow of the falcon, was imminent. He had 
 heard from time to time from old Paul, who occasionally 
 furnished a message from Antonia of a new book she had 
 been reading, a visit she had paid, a sailing excursion 
 that she and her father had enjoyed together ; and lastly, 
 something had been said about an Austrian nobleman — 
 Count or Baron, or of some such objectionable rank — 
 who was the acknowledged lion of Sydney just then, and 
 who had been several times at Morahmee. 
 
 This piece of information did not cause any of the 
 pleasure almost visible on the letter relating it to be 
 conveyed to Ernest Neuchamp. ' Count be hanged ! ' he
 
 XIII A COLONIAL REFORMER 221 
 
 was English enough to say. ' I hate these foreign 
 fellows. Ten to one there's something not quite correct 
 about a foreigner on his travels. Not that there's any 
 logical necessity for it. I trust I am not sufficiently 
 insular to deny a foreign nobility all the graces and 
 virtues that add lustre to our own. But we can always 
 find out and trace our "heavy gunners." But in the 
 countless (I mean no harm) multitude of Counts and 
 Barons, Grafs and Vons, who can possibly tell whether the 
 bowing, broken-Englished, insinuating beggar that you 
 introduce to your wife and daughters is Von Adelberg 
 himself, or his valet or courier levanted with the cash 
 and purloining the title as well as the clothes of his 
 master ? ' 
 
 Osmund and Ben Bolt were safely bestowed in a snug 
 but unpretending stable not a hundred miles from Bent 
 Street, and Mr. Windsor, as a man who 'knew his way 
 about,' even in a strange city, was left temporarily to his 
 own guidance, merely being requested to report himself 
 at Morahmee. 
 
 Every Englishman knows what important step Ernest 
 took next. His hair reduced to the smallest visible 
 quantity, and the luxuriance of his beard, which he had 
 lately permitted full liberty of growth, rationally re- 
 stricted, he betook himself to the well-known counting- 
 house. 
 
 The grave head clerk, who had acquired such solemn 
 doubts as to Mr. Hartley Selmore's final destination, 
 smiled, under protest, when he announced 'a gentleman 
 on business,' by Ernest's request. Old Paul looked up 
 with his usual good-natured expression, then stared in 
 unrecognising blankness at the bronzed and bearded figure 
 before him, finally to burst into a perfect tempest of
 
 222 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 laughter and cliuckling, shaking Ernest's hands violently 
 with both of his, and making as if he could throw himself 
 on the neck of his safe returning protege. 
 
 ' Ha ! ha ! ha ! so you're back again, are you, Ernest, 
 my boy ? By Jove, I'm glad to see you ; burnt brown 
 enough too — shows you've been working ; like to see it 
 — none the worse looking for it, either, I know the girls 
 will say. But, I say — ha ! ha ! ha ! known by the 
 police, eh ? Captain Jinks, alias Gentleman Jack, and 
 the other prisoner, eh, my boy ? How I roared at that 
 till Antonia was quite savage — for lur you know. Didn't 
 take your photo, did they ? generally do, you know. Got 
 an album, for reference, at all the chief police stations. 
 You're coming out, of course, to-night. Antonia will be 
 awfully glad ; don't tell her I said so. 
 
 ' Look here, my dear boy, I was just bothering this 
 old head of mine about some business matters — hang 
 them. You run away out to Morahmee, and tell Antonia to 
 have dinner ready to the minute, or I'll murder the whole 
 household. Now off with you ! ' 
 
 Ernest departed, nothing loath, and as he whirled 
 out, hansom-borne, along the well-remembered road, and 
 gazed once more upon the blue waters, the frowning head- 
 land, the green villa -dotted shores of the unequalled 
 harbour, he mentally contrasted these with the gray 
 monotonous plains of Garrandilla, or the equally mono- 
 tonous waterless woodlands. 
 
 ' By Jove ! ' he said, ' I feel like a schoolboy home for 
 the holidays, or a sailor back from a cruise ; and all for 
 the pleasure of returning to Sydney, a place I had scarcely 
 heard of a couple of years since. Am I the same Ernest 
 Neuchamp that knew Paris pretty well before he was of 
 age, and Vienna to boot ?
 
 XIII A COLONIAL REFORMER 223 
 
 ' However, all this sort of thing is like your club 
 dinners. The menu goes for little except you have the 
 appetite ; if you have that, you can renovate soul and 
 body upon bread and cheese.' Here he deserted the 
 region of philosophic parallels, and began to picture the 
 expression of satisfaction, perhaps of unrestrained plea- 
 sure, that would illumine Antonia Frankston's counte- 
 nance upon his arrival. 'What a charming thing a 
 perfect friendship between two persons of different sexes 
 might be made ! ' he thought, ' if people would not insist 
 upon complicating the highest, noblest, and most exalted 
 sentiment of which our nature is capable with that 
 ridiculous, half instinctive, undignified, inferior passion 
 which men call love. Of course inferior. Why, friend- 
 ship must necessarily be based upon an equality of 
 culture, of social aims, principles, and sympathies, while 
 the other violent, unreasoning, and unreasonable mono- 
 poly may exist between persons of the most widely 
 differing ages, positions, standards of refinement, and in- 
 tellectual rank; between the dotard and the maiden, the 
 duke and the dairymaid, the peeress and the parvenu, the 
 rustic and the courtier, the spotlessly pure and the incor- 
 rigibly base.' 
 
 From this it may be gathered that Mr. ISTeuchamp was 
 not a man addicted to falling violently and promiscuously 
 in love. In point of fact, he had a stupendously high 
 ideal, which, not expecting to realise it in everyday life, 
 seemed to keep the subject a good deal out of his mind. 
 Then he thought a man should do some work under the 
 sun first, and set about a quest for the ' sangreal ' after- 
 wards. He regarded Antonia Frankston with a deep 
 feeling of interest, as a dear and highly sympathetic 
 friend. He had given her the advantage of many criti-
 
 224 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 cisms with respect to the course of reading, very un- 
 usual for a girl of her age, that she was pursuing when 
 they first met, and since then had advised and directed 
 her intellectual progress. 
 
 Insensibly the natural sympathy between the master 
 and a promising pupil was quickened and intensified by 
 the originality of mind which Antonia evinced. When 
 Ernest Neuchamp magnanimously departed for the in- 
 terior, he had commenced to notice the awakening of an 
 unacknowledged feeling that the hour's talk and make- 
 believe school at Morahmee was the period of the day he 
 was most eager to seize, most unwilling to relinquish. 
 
 And now how altered and strengthened as to her 
 intellectual grasp must she be^ — this unsophisticated, 
 unwon child of the fair south — with the brooding fancies 
 and absolute simplicity of a child, the instinctive dignity, 
 the curious aplomb, of a woman. As he reached this 
 not unpleasing stage of his reverie the wheels of the 
 hansom ground viciously the matchless gravel of the drive 
 at Morahmee, and grazed perilously close the snowy 
 sandstone steps in front of the portico. 
 
 Ernest recalled the old delicious sense of stillness, the 
 
 beautiful silence all around, 
 Save wood-bird to wood-bird calling, 
 
 broken only by the calmly murmurous rhythmic plash of 
 the wavelets on the beach. 
 
 It was not a house where people were always coming 
 and going, and he did not remember often to have found 
 Antonia otherwise than alone, on the occasion of his 
 former visits. What was she doing now ? Should he 
 find her reading in the library, that pleasant room with 
 the bay window, in which slumberous calms the smiles
 
 XIII A COLOXIAL REFORMER 225 
 
 and storms of ocean were pictures set as in a frame ? in 
 the drawing-room ? in the shrubbery ? in the rose garden ? 
 in the morning-room, which she usually affected, and 
 which, having a davenport, her favourite authors, and a 
 cottage piano, was able to supply, indifferently well, the dis- 
 tinguishing features of three more pretentious apartments ? 
 
 As he passed through the hall the notes of the piano, 
 not of the boudoir, but the grand Erard, with a bass of 
 organ-like depth of vibration, informed him that in the 
 drawing-room he would probably find the youthful clidte- 
 laine. 
 
 Almost simultaneously he heard the rich, deep notes 
 of a strange male voice accompanying the instrument, and 
 recocjnised the concludino; words of a duet which he himself 
 had sung with Miss Frankston full many a time and oft. 
 
 As the second performer dwelt with perhaps unneces- 
 sarily tender expression upon Heine's thrilling ' Bis in 
 den tiefsten Traum,' Mr. Neuchamp became conscious of 
 a distinct change of feeling — of a sudden painful sense 
 of disenchantment. 
 
 There was no tangible cause for uneasiness. A 
 young lady was merely singing one of Mendelssohn's 
 loveliest duets with an accredited musical acquaintance. 
 By the merest accident, no doubt. Still, let but a single 
 cloud darken the summer sky, the chill breeze once sigh, 
 how faintly soever, and the heart, that sensitive plant, 
 shrinks instinctively at nature's warning. So smote the 
 melody, albeit effectively rendered, upon Ernest's highly- 
 wrought mind with a savour of bode and of dread. And 
 as he entered the open door of the apartment he knew 
 himself to be deeply changed from the eager visitor who 
 had but a few moments since so joyously alighted at the 
 portals of Morahmee. 
 
 VOL. I Q
 
 CHAPTEE XIY 
 
 The attainment of pure and permanent happiness, by 
 either of the attached persons, has always been held to 
 be a leading aim of true friendship. Mild surprise at 
 the nature of the implements chosen for such attainment 
 is, perhaps, admissible. But no selfish disapproval can 
 be justified for a moment, if only the appreciative partner 
 elects to adhere fixedly to the new plan or newer friend. 
 
 Still, human nature is ever more philosophical in 
 theory than in practice ; and the wayfaring Damon, dc 
 rctouT, rarely reaches that pinnacle of sublime abnegation 
 which glories in being superseded, or expresses gratitude 
 that Pythias has provided himself with another Damon, 
 ' whose Christian name was John.' Some natural dis- 
 trust must ever be felt, must be exhibited, let the fresher 
 friend be in the highest degree justifiable, heroic, ador- 
 able. 
 
 All the essayists on friendship notwithstanding, ]\Ir. 
 Neuchamp felt distinctly aggrieved. There was he, rush- 
 ing back upon the wings of — well — intelligent and 
 sympathetic friendship, willing to resume the delightful 
 aesthetic intercourse which compulsory absence had alone 
 interrupted, and now, apparently, he needed not to have 
 come at all. Antonia was fully occupied, no doubt
 
 CHAP. XIV A COLONIAL REFORMER 227 
 
 interested, by the first frivolous foreigner that came in 
 her way, and was singing duets and so on, as if she had 
 no higher aspiration than to listen for ever to a German 
 band. 
 
 Entering the drawing-room, Ernest presented himself 
 just as the Count (of course it was the Count, confound 
 him !) was singing the clich der folgcn portion of the 
 melody with, as Ernest thought, ridiculously exaggerated 
 em^^hasis. He made the most of his eyes — which were 
 really fine — rolled them in an excess of admiration, and 
 throwing the fullest expressive force into the concluding 
 stanza, sighed and bowed low with admiring respect to 
 the fair pianist. She smiled not wholly with displeasure, 
 and as she turned she met the somewhat grave and fixed 
 regard of Ernest Neuchamp. 
 
 ' Pray excuse me for disturbing your musical enter- 
 tainment. Miss Frankston,' he said, with a coldness un- 
 like anything she had ever observed in his manner before. 
 
 Antonia's colourless face, which had flushed slightly 
 at the suddenness of the contretemps, regained its habitual 
 serene delicacy of hue, as she calmly observed — 
 
 * The Count von Schatterheims and I have been 
 practising German duets for a matinee that Mrs. FoUeton 
 gives next week, and that all Sydney is wild about. It 
 is quite a treat to have the aid of one who understands 
 the genius of the poetry and music so thoroughly. Permit 
 me to introduce you to the Count, Mr. Neuchamp.' 
 
 The foreign nobleman, a tall, fair man, with a mous- 
 tache like a Pandour, bowed graciously, and resumed the 
 musical subject. 
 
 ' Ah ! I did know Mendelssohn so well as mine fader. 
 He lif at our house when he come to Munich. He 
 always say I was born for a maestro'
 
 228 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 ' And why did you not fulfil his prediction V Count, 
 asked Antonia, much interested. 
 
 ' De sword/ said Von Schatterheims with a grave, sad 
 air. ' You vill comprehent, he vas too moosh for de lyre. 
 I join de movement of freedom. I haf commant, wit poor 
 Korner. He die in dese arms.' 
 
 'The lyre — ahem!' said Ernest, smiling grimly at his 
 utterly unjustifiable mot, 'has reasserted his right, I 
 should say. Did not Korner die in 18 — ?' (Here he 
 quoted the memorable ' Sword Song ' in the original.) 
 
 'Ha!' said the Count, a new expression, not only of 
 satisfaction, pervading his features, ' thou hast seen the 
 Faderland. No Englander ever learned a so lieimlich 
 acsend who drank not in youth the beer at Studenten- 
 Kneiin — we must have Brudersclmft. Is it not so ?' 
 
 ' Do you think we can manage " Die Schwalben," 
 Count ?' asked Antonia. 
 
 ' But I haf bromiss to be at the house of Madame 
 Folleton, to hear mademoiselle bractise dat leedle Folks- 
 lied. Besites, we read Heine togeder. She is aisthetig 
 — yaas — to de tips of her finkers. Adieu !' 
 
 ' And now, Mr. Ernest Neuchamp, what have you to 
 say for yourself?' said Antonia, in a tone between jest 
 and earnest, ' in that you have been in my presence for 
 half an hour and have only smiled twice, have called me 
 Miss Frankston, and have looked at that delightful 
 creature, the Count, with an air of stern disapproval ? 
 Where do you expect to go to ?' 
 
 ' Eeally,' said Ernest, ' I am unconscious of having 
 done or looked anything peculiarly unsatisfactory. But 
 I thought you were so exceedingly well contented with 
 the Count's society that I doubted whether I was not 
 making an undesirable third. And who is this Count V
 
 XIV A COLONIAL REFORMER 229 
 
 ' AVell, he had letters to papa and old Captain Block- 
 strop ; and all Sydney is wild about him. No party is 
 worth going to where he does not come. He is the most 
 accomplished and charming person — plays, sings, paints, 
 has been a soldier and desperately wounded. All the 
 young ladies of Sydney are wild about him. He is 
 enormously rich, and gives such parties on board his 
 yacht ! ' 
 
 ' And is Miss Frankston one of the young ladies whom 
 this broken-Enghshed invincible has conquered ? ' asked 
 Ernest. ' May I be permitted to congratulate her ? ' 
 
 ' You must judge for yourself,' said the girl, with so 
 merry a look and such a genuinely amused expression 
 that Mr. Neuchamp's slight experience of the ways of 
 womankind assured him that no great damage to his 
 pupil's heart had as yet taken place. ' But there is just 
 time for a stroll on the beach before dinner, and a slight 
 sketch of your adventures since you left us. You look 
 quite a bushman now. How sunburned you have man- 
 aged to get !' 
 
 Mr. Xeuchamp was but mortal. The best of us, 
 under certain conditions, are weak. As Antonia shut 
 down the piano and ran to get her straw hat with girlish 
 freedom of manner, he felt his justifiable wrath evaporat- 
 ing. Long before they had finished that pleasant ramble 
 in the cool twilight, with the stars one by one appearing, 
 the surge voices whispering low and solemnly kind, the 
 cool briny savour of the ocean — a sea of enchantment to 
 Ernest, but of yesterday from the inner deserts — long 
 before the somew^hat emphasised dinner-bell rang, Ernest 
 repented of his pettishness. He knew that his friendship 
 had suffered neither wTong nor change. He felt that 
 there were still feelings and aspirations in that fresh.
 
 230 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 unspoiled, girlisli heart to wliicli he alone had the pass- 
 word. He answered Mr. Frankston's boisterous hail from 
 the verandah in a surprisingly nautical and cheery manner, 
 and passed into the enjoyment of dinner, and dinner talk, 
 much relieved in mind. 
 
 'What's become of the Count, Antonia?' said the old 
 gentleman. ' Try that Chablis, Ernest, my boy ; imported 
 it since you were down. Old Jedwood didn't give you 
 anything like that ; thundering old screw, isn't he ? good 
 man for all that ; trust him with your life. I thought 
 you were going to make the Count stay to dinner, 
 Antonia.' 
 
 ' Well, it would have been pleasanter for Mr. Neuchamp, 
 perhaps,' said the young lady demurely. ' But he said 
 he had to go to Mrs. Folleton's.' 
 
 ' Oh ! that was the attraction then,' said Mr. Frank- 
 ston. ' They say he admires Harriet Folleton tremen- 
 dously. She will have twenty thousand down ; but as he 
 is so wealthy himself, of course the cash can't matter.' 
 
 ' You all seem to take it for granted that he is so very 
 rich, and a wonderful fellow in all respects,' said Ernest. 
 ' He's good-looking enough, I admit ; but who is to know 
 whether he is really the man he represents himself to 
 be?' 
 
 ' Why should he not be himself,' said Antonia, ' more 
 than any one else ? ' 
 
 ' For this reason,' replied Ernest, ' that it is much more 
 easy for a foreigner to impose upon English people, in a 
 community like this, than for an Englishman to practise 
 a similar deceit. He has but to bring manufactured 
 introductions, and the whole difficulty is over to a man 
 of ordinary address and qualifications for sustaining such 
 a part.'
 
 XIV A COLOXIAL REFORMER 231 
 
 ' Well, I must say/ said Mr. Frankston, ' that the 
 letters I received might have been written by any corre- 
 sponding clerk in a German counting-house. I took him 
 and his letters for granted, and so did old Blockstrop, 
 just as we should have taken his bills properly endorsed. 
 But let me ask you, Ernest, my boy, doesn't he look and 
 speak like the real thing ? ' 
 
 ' You must not be offended with me,' said Ernest, 
 conscious of a certain flash in Antonia's eyes, ' or think me 
 ungenerous, if I say that I should like to take a little more 
 time and have some opportunities of intercourse before 
 giving my opinion. You must remember that habitudes 
 of ceremonious behaviour pervade all classes in continental 
 countries to an extent unknown in British communities. 
 By superficial observers a count and a courier, for instance, 
 will not be perceived to differ in manner or language ; 
 and the courier is often the more picturesque personage 
 of the two.' 
 
 ' And why not ? ' inquired Antonia ; ' is there no differ- 
 ence between the manners and the conversation of people 
 of upper and lower rank, except in England and English 
 places ? ' 
 
 ' I do not say that ; the contrary is the case, but the 
 discrepancies are sufficiently minute to escape British 
 people not thoroughly acquainted with the language. 
 For the same reason no foreigner would discover the 
 difference between a good-looking, decently- educated 
 Britisher who dropped his aitches, and the real article. 
 Thackeray somewhere gives a case in point.' 
 
 ' Well, I suppose we shall be all at the great ball next 
 week,' said Antonia, ' and you will then be able to analyse 
 Count von Schiitterheims to your heart's content. They 
 say he admires Harriet Folleton extremely.'
 
 232 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 ' It's nothing to me' whom he admires,' said Ernest, 
 ' as long as he leaves a certain independent-minded young 
 lady friend of mine alone. I should not like to see her 
 carried off by any privateer hoisting false colours.' 
 
 ' You are all jealous ; that's the truth, if you would but 
 own it,' laughed Antonia ; ' and indeed, if one thinks of 
 the commotion the Count has created among the Sydney 
 young ladies, it seems reasonable enough. If he had 
 been a whole man-of-war compressed, he could not have 
 been more flattered and run after. And that is saying a 
 great deal here, you know.' 
 
 ' I am aware of that,' said Ernest, with a slight bow ; 
 ' short as has been my experience, I have noticed so much.' 
 
 'Well, I agree with Ernest to a certain extent/ said 
 old Paul reflectively. ' It's as weU to be cautious with 
 these wonderful strangers, especially foreigners. AYe 
 haven't quite forgotten Senor Miranda yet, eh, An- 
 tonia ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I did see him once, if that's what you mean/ 
 sdid the girl, looking at Ernest ; ' and I have always been 
 very sorry that he should have come to shame. He was 
 a bad man, of course ; but he was really so very grand- 
 lookiiig, and when he spoke he had such a sweet, grave, 
 deep voice that you would have done wdiatever he asked 
 you at once.' 
 
 ' AYhat did he do, then ? ' inquired Ernest. 
 
 ' Do ? ' said Mr. Frankston. ' Why, with forged letters 
 of introduction he commenced a business transaction with 
 one of the banks ; he placed to his credit a large balance, 
 wdiich he took care to draw out ; and the end of it was 
 that he walked off w^ith five-and-twenty thousand pounds 
 in exchange for bills not worth that, and has never been 
 seen or heard of since.'
 
 XIV A COLONIAL REFORMER 233 
 
 ' How many Germans are there ? ' asked Antonia in- 
 nocently. 
 
 ' Forty odd millions/ answered Ernest. 
 
 'And there are twenty -two millions of Spaniards/ 
 continued she, 'for I saw it to-day. Well, that makes 
 so many — sixty millions, or more, altogether. And we 
 are to suspect and distrust all these people just because 
 Senor Miranda was a swindler. I wonder if foreign 
 nations are equally just to Englishmen on their travels.' 
 
 ' Come along and let us have our cigars/ said the old 
 gentleman. 'Antonia, we must get you made Austrian 
 consul. What — you haven't learned to smoke in the 
 bush, Ernest ? Never mind ; come along all the same. 
 Cigars have more flavour in company, and the music will 
 sound better too.' 
 
 It was a superb night — one of the units of that 
 wondrous wealth and prodigality of perfect weather by 
 which we should set greater store were we compelled to 
 undergo a quarter of the austerity of northern Europe. 
 Not a cloud was visible. The large and lustrous stars 
 glowed all unheeded by an accustomed world. All the 
 intricacies of the harbour seemed stretched and illumined 
 by the glowing lights from the various vessels outward, 
 homeward bound, or at anchor. And yet all invisible as 
 was the sea, the presence of the majesty of the deep was 
 manifest in the salt savour of the air, in the half- heard 
 murmur of the tide ripples, in the far indistinctly 
 wondrous tones of the surge upon the distant beach. 
 
 As the old man lit his cigar and looked seaward, 
 mechanically, the first notes of a brilliant aria floated 
 out upon the air from the piano, and Ern6st musingly 
 realised the unostentatious luxury of the household, the 
 exquisite beauty of the scene and surroundings, and con-
 
 234 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 trasted tliem with the rude adjuncts of Garrandilla and 
 its environs. 
 
 Next morning Mr. Windsor made his appearance 
 immediately after breakfast at Morahmee, and awaited 
 commands. 
 
 ' What a pretty horse ! ' said Antonia ; ' is that yours ? ' 
 
 ' That is Osmund, my first Australian hackney, and 
 a great favourite,' said Mr. Neuchamp, with a certain 
 pride. 
 
 ' Well, you've done credit to your knowledge of horse- 
 flesh,' said the old gentleman ; ' he would fetch fifty 
 pounds now in Sydney. And what about my country- 
 man who is on his back ? I can tell his parish without 
 twice looking. He's like the horse, a good-looking, 
 upstanding young one ; but we can't be so sure about 
 his value from appearance only.' 
 
 ' Jack Windsor is mine, too,' said Ernest, ' a good, 
 clever fellow, I think. It's rather a long story how we 
 first became acquainted. I'll tell it you some day. 
 When I buy a run he will go with me as stockman and 
 right-hand man generally.' 
 
 ' So that's the arrangement. I hope he will turn out 
 a credit to you, like the horse. He's the cut of a good 
 man, and I should have been very glad to have shipped 
 him in old days for a whaling cruise. You will have to 
 exercise your horse, now you have him stabled. 
 Antonia would like a canter, I daresay.' 
 
 ' I should, of all things,' said that young lady. ' My 
 poor Waratah has not been out for a week ; she looks 
 ready to fly over the moon with nervousness. We 
 might go this afternoon, if Mr. Neuchamp can spare 
 the time.' 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp declared that all his time was spare
 
 XIV A COLONIAL REFORMER 235 
 
 time now, and that he should be charmed to be at 
 Antonia's disposal for any and every afternoon as long as 
 he remained in town. 
 
 So Jack aud the gray horse were sent back to their 
 stable, with orders to return at three o'clock punctually. 
 
 ' And after the ball,' said Mr. Frankston, ' I shall 
 take a holiday, so I think we'll have a sail and do a 
 little fishing. At any rate we shall see the harbour, and 
 I can show you something choice in the way of bays. 
 How do you like the idea ? ' 
 
 Both of the young people protested that it was the 
 exact thing they had been longing for for months. 
 And so, that arrangement being settled, the old gentk- 
 man departed for town in his dogcart, aud Ernest, 
 having a few things to do bordering upon business, 
 accompanied him. 
 
 One of the minor perplexities which assail the student 
 of human nature arises from the fact that all, or nearly 
 all, of the persons who arrive in a colony conduct them- 
 selves after the same fashion. For a season, which 
 includes the first few months, they are wildly capricious, 
 and even reckless, in the matter of raiment. The idea 
 is always uppermost that, in a new country, it is not of 
 the slightest consequence how anybody dresses. That to 
 no one, the newly-landed in particular, can it possibly 
 matter whether his fellow -mortals array themselves in 
 broadcloth or sackcloth, tweed or canvas, spotless linen 
 or red shirt. 
 
 Another strongly implanted idea is, that the sub- 
 divisions of society, set u^d by colonists among themselves, 
 are vain, weak, and unnecessary. These severely linear 
 distinctions are adhered to in the old country, and are 
 there, doubtless, right and expedient. But, ye gods !
 
 236 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap, 
 
 in this land, inhabited by the ^Yande^ing savage but of 
 yesterday, by the confused crowd of hard and anxious 
 colonists (all colonists are necessarily rough and uncere- 
 monious), why revive these absurd, exaggerated, old- 
 world ceremonies ? 
 
 Thus, during his little day of nonage, the emigrant 
 Briton disports himself, rejoicing in his newly -found 
 emancipation from conventionalities. He goes to a 
 dinner party in a morning suit, and finds himself the 
 sole person not in evening dress. He pays visits in a 
 pilot's jacket, and feels a thrill of pride and defiance as 
 he observes the young ladies of the house look wonder- 
 ingiy at him. He bears himself as he would not dream 
 of doing in his own country town, perhaps a more 
 primitive and deplorably dull neighbourhood than he 
 could easily find in the older districts of Australia. 
 And for all this refusal to pay the simple compliment of 
 conformity to the kindly people among whom he is 
 entertained and made welcome, he has no better reason 
 to give himself or others than that it is a colony, and 
 that it would be absurd to expect the same social observ- 
 ances as in an old country. 
 
 Nothing could be more amiable than the general 
 toleration which obtains of this youthful eccentricity, 
 were it not so thoroughly understood that it is the 
 ordinary early phase of griffinhood, and that it is certain 
 to wear out in time. It would be mortifying to the 
 pride of the contemner of social customs, could he but 
 fully understand how every one, from the mild uncritical 
 senior to little miss in her teens, holds these clothes- 
 philosophical eccentricities in good-humoured contempt, 
 and relies upon the wearer becoming like everybody else, 
 in a year or two at farthest.
 
 XIV A COLOXIAL REFORMER 237 
 
 We know that much of this sj)irit possessed the 
 aspiring soul of Ernest iSTeuchamp when first he stood 
 upon the balcony of the Eoyal Hotel and gazed upon the 
 crowd that passed below. But though he had abated 
 not a jot of some points of his original charter, he yet 
 could not but acknowledge that he was a very different 
 individual, in opinion and in feeling, from the ardent 
 emigrant of only a year ago. 
 
 As one consequence of this altered tone of mind, he 
 cheerfully accepted Mr. Frankston's offer of arranging his 
 admission as honorary member of one of the clubs. He 
 began to feel a longing for the society of his equals ; 
 and, as he could not be always lounging away the day at 
 Morahmee, and did not contemplate an immediate return 
 to Garrandilla, he saw the necessity of having some 
 recognised place of temporary abode wherein he might 
 take his ease, in the society of gentlemen, and keep him- 
 self au courant with the progress of the world. 
 
 This transaction having been formally carried out by 
 the ever- zealous and kindly Paul, he was i^laced in 
 receipt of a missive, signed by the secretary, and 
 announcing that he had been elected to be an honorary 
 member of the Xew Holland Club. 
 
 He was introduced next day by Mr, Frankston him- 
 self, and discovered that he had the entrde to a handsome 
 commodious building, with a larger extent of lawn and 
 shrubbery than he had ever seen attached to an institution 
 of the nature before. The internal arrangements were 
 familiar, being precisely the same as those of the London 
 Club, to which he had been elected about five years after 
 nomination. 
 
 There were the same grave, decorous servants, the 
 same silent appreciation of the same style of highly
 
 238 A COLOXIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 respectable cookery, the same comfortable sitting-room, 
 with — oh, pleasant sight ! — good store of magazines, 
 Punches, Saturdays, Pall Malls, and all the priceless 
 luxuries of refined, if ephemeral, journalism. There was 
 the same deserted library, the same populous smoking- 
 room, with billiard-room ditto. To a few members old 
 Paul had introduced him, and for the rest he was aware 
 that he must take his chance. 
 
 He found, after a day or two, that he had small reason 
 to fear of isolation. A gentlemanlike stranger needs but 
 the evidence of this quality to procure friendly acquaint- 
 ances, if not intimates, at any club. 
 
 He was soon known as ' a young fellow who had been 
 sent out to old Frankston, and was going to buy a station. 
 A decent sort of fellow belonging to swell people, and so 
 on. Going to do wonders, and make important changes. 
 That will wear off — we've all passed through that mill. 
 He'll settle down and take to wool and tallow kindly, 
 like all the rest of us, in good time.' 
 
 Mr. Xeuchamp made the discovery that, if he had 
 been less obstinately bent upon separating himself from 
 the presumably prejudiced society of the new land, in the 
 fervour of his philanthropy, he might possibly have met 
 with other colonists, who, like Paul Frankston, would 
 have shielded him from harm, and proffered him good 
 and true advice. In his new home he made the 
 acquaintance of more than one silver-haired pioneer, who, 
 while gently parrying the thrusts of his eager and some- 
 what communistic theories, quietly put forward the 
 dictates of long experience and successful practice. 
 Every one was disposed to be tolerant, agreeable, even 
 friendly, to the frank youngster, who was, in spite of his 
 crotchets, evidently ' good form.' And Ernest realised
 
 XIV A COLONIAL REFORMER 239 
 
 fully, and rather unexpectedly, that even in a colony it 
 is possible for a stranger to fall among friends, and that 
 colonists are not invariably all stamped out of one 
 pattern, whatever anticipations may he compounded in 
 the fancy of the emigrating critic. 
 
 In another respect Ernest found that his club privi- 
 leges were valuable as well as luxurious. Among the 
 squatters, who composed the larger proportion of the 
 members, he had the advantage of hearing the question 
 of pastoral property discussed with fullest clearness and 
 explanation, in all its bearings. No one evaded giving a 
 decided opinion upon the chances of investment, though, 
 according to temperament, and other causes, the answers 
 were various. All agreed, however, in one respect, 
 namely, that stock had touched a point of dej)ression, 
 below which it seemed wellnigh impossible to fall. The 
 great question, of course, was whether such properties 
 would ever rise, or whether such profits or losses, as the 
 case might be, must be accepted as permanently fixed. 
 
 ' I believe that cattle and sheep never ivill rise a 
 penny higher during our lifetime, particularly cattle,' said 
 a slight, elegant, cynical squatter, with whom Ernest had 
 made acquaintance. ' It's of course nothing but what 
 any one ought to have expected in this infernal country. 
 What is there to keep stock up, I ask ? As for wool. 
 South America will grow three bales to our one directly ; 
 and cattle and horses will be slaughtered for their hides, 
 as they are there.' 
 
 ' What a grumbler you are, Croker ! ' said a stout 
 cheery-looking youngster, with a long fair moustache and 
 a smooth face ; * you run down the country like a rival 
 agent-general. Why do you stay in it, if it's so bad ? ' 
 
 ' I'd leave to-morrow if I could get any one fool
 
 240 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 enough to buy my runs ; take my passage by the mail 
 and never be heard of here again/ 
 
 ' Well, you wouldn't make a bad immigration agent, 
 if the Government wanted to appoint a prepossessing- 
 advertiser for Europe.' 
 
 ' Agent ! why, what do you see in me to make you 
 think I should accept any such office ? ' 
 
 ' Only, this strikes me, that if you went on talking 
 there in your dissatisfied strain, the acute common peojDle 
 would be certain that you had some reason of your own 
 for dissuading them from embarking, and, so thinking, 
 would pour in by crowds.' 
 
 ' Likely enough,' sneered the avocat j^our le diahle. 
 ' There are only two sets of people in this rascally 
 country — rogues and fools.' 
 
 ' And to which division of society do I belong, may I 
 ask ? ' inquired Ernest, rather amused at the uncom- 
 promising nature of the denunciation. 
 
 ' Well, perhaps it's not very polite, but, as you wish 
 for the information, I look upon you as a fool, for wishing 
 to invest and waste your life here ; upon Compton as 
 another, because he thinks well of the place and peo]3le ; 
 and upon myself as the biggest one of the lot for staying 
 here, wdien I know so well what lies before the wdiole 
 rotten sham which calls itself a prosperous colony.' 
 
 ' Are matters then so bad ? ' inquired Ernest, with 
 some solicitude. ' I thought that the country was sound 
 generally.' 
 
 Mr. Croker bestowed upon him a look of pity, mingled 
 with contempt, and in his most acid tones replied — 
 
 ' If you knew half as much as I do about the banks 
 and mercantile transactions, if you were a little behind 
 the scenes as I have, perhaps unluckily, been, you would
 
 XIV A COLOXIAL REFORMER 241 
 
 know that a crash must come — must come — within the 
 next two or three years. I expect to see all the banks 
 in the hands of official assignees — they'll be the only 
 solvent people. As for the merchants ' 
 
 ' Well, Mr. Jermyn Croker, " as for the merchants " ? ' 
 said a jolly voice, and Paul Frankston's rubicund and 
 reassuring countenance appeared in the little group which 
 had gathered to listen to the lamentations of this latter- 
 day seer — ' how about the merchants ? ' 
 
 ' Why/ returned Mr. Croker, totally unabashed, ' I 
 expect to see you, and Holder Brothers, and Deloraine 
 and Company, and the rest, begging in the streets.' 
 
 ' Ha ! ha ! ha ! capital. Well done, Jermyn ; put a 
 half-crown or two in your pocket against that day; I 
 know you'd like to relieve honest poverty. In the mean- 
 time come and dine with me on Thursday, will you, and 
 Compton, and Neuchamp ? Better come soon, you know, 
 while that Eoederer holds out. " Let us eat and drink," 
 you know, etc. I say, what will you take for that cattle 
 station of yours at Lake Wondah ? No use holding, you 
 know, eh ? ' 
 
 ' Two pounds a head, for three thousand — calves given 
 in.' 
 
 ' What dates ? ' 
 
 ' Cash down ! Do you think I'd take any man's biUs 
 now ? No, not if Levison himself were to endorse.' 
 
 'Hem — ha — I learn the cattle are baddish, but the 
 run is understocked. How long will you leave it open ? ' 
 
 * Oh ! a month ; three months if you like. Send me 
 a cheque at any time for six thousand and I will send 
 you an order to take possession ; that is, as soon as I find 
 the cheque all right.' 
 
 ' Ha ! ha ! not bad, Croker. It would be the first 
 
 VOL. I R
 
 242 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 cheque of Paul Frankston's that ever was unpaid, so far. 
 But you'll not forget Thursday, all of you, boys. We 
 must try and shake Croker out of the blues, or he'll ruin 
 the prospects of every squatter in ISTew South Wales.' 
 
 Mr. Neuchamp's spirits were not so permanently 
 affected by the alarming vaticinations of Mr. Jermyn 
 Croker as that he was prevented from exhibiting 
 Osmund's figure and paces past the club verandah that 
 afternoon, followed by Mr. Windsor on Ben Bolt, on his 
 way to keep tryst with Antonia. 
 
 There may be a pleasanter species of locomotion, on a 
 fine day, than that afforded by a good horse in top con- 
 dition over a smooth road, in the immediate vicinity of a 
 valued lady friend ; let us say there may be, but we have 
 yet to discover it. The yacht, sweeping like a seamew 
 over the rippling, gaily-breaking billow, with courses free 
 and a merry company aboard, holds high excitement and 
 joyous freedom from the world's cankering cares ; the 
 mail-phaeton with a pair of well-bred steppers, or, better 
 still, a high drag behind a fresh team, well matched and 
 better-mouthed, has its own peculiar fascination as one is 
 whirled through the summer air, or borne fast and free 
 through the gathering twilight homewards and dinner- 
 wards ; even the smooth, irresponsible rush of the express 
 train yields not wholly disagreeable sensation of a victory 
 over time and space, as we whirl down the flying grades 
 and round the somewhat risque curves. But the personal 
 element which the rider shares with the bonny brown, or 
 gallant grey, that strides with joyous elasticity beneath 
 him, had a thrill, in the ' brave old days of pleasure and 
 pain,' that dwarfed all other recreation. If anything can 
 intensify the feeling of joyance, it is the presence, simi- 
 larly equipped, of the possible princess. Then the fairy 

 
 XIV A COLOXIAL REFORMER 243 
 
 glamour is complete — in the forest glades are the leaflets 
 hung with diamonds, the half- heard music is full of 
 unearthly cadences — and as the graceful form sways with 
 movement of her eager palfrey, the good knight's head 
 must be harder than his casque if heart and sword and 
 fame, past, present, and to come, be not laid, then and 
 there, at the feet of that ladye-fayre. 
 
 Miss Frankston rode, like most Australian girls, ex- 
 tremely well, and with an unconscious grace and security 
 of seat only to be attained by those who, like her, had 
 enjoyed the fullest opportunities of practice from earliest 
 childhood. Her dark bay mare was thoroughbred, having 
 been carried off by Mr. Frankston five minutes after she 
 lost her first race at Eandwick. She had been indiffer- 
 ently brought out, and, as a sporting friend said, w^as not 
 fit to run for a saddle in a shearers' sweepstakes. 
 
 Antonia had taken a strong fancy to her personal 
 appearance, and Paul, as usual, had then and there 
 gratified his pet. Waratah, which was the filly's name, 
 proving after trial high-couraged and temperate, had been 
 installed at Morahmee as the description of dumb favourite 
 for which, in the springtime of life, the heart of a woman 
 is prone to crave. 
 
 On this particular afternoon it was proposed by 
 Antonia that they should ride to Bondi. ' One of our 
 show places, you must know/ she said ; ' and as the wind 
 is coming in strong from the south, we shall have the 
 surf-thunder in perfection.' 
 
 ' Don't ride into the breakers, that's all, as you tried 
 to do last time we were there ; if you and Waratah were 
 carried off your feet, your poor old father would never 
 see his pet again.' 
 
 ' How do you know ? You silly old papa. Can't we
 
 244 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 both swim ? ' said the girl, laying her hand tenderly on 
 his weather-beaten cheek ; ' you will make Mr. Xeuchamp 
 think that I'm as wild as a hawk, instead of being the 
 sober-minded damsel that I really am. However, you 
 need not be afraid of my running any foolish risks to- 
 day.' 
 
 The morning had been clear, with that suspicion of 
 chill which told that at no great distance from the coast 
 there had been a strong change of temperature. In and 
 around Sydney the atmospheric tendency had been 
 softened into a composite of warmth, tempered with 
 freshness wonderful to experience and exhilarating past 
 all description. 
 
 The girl slacked the rein of her eager mare, and the 
 excited horses swept along the smooth, winding, dark-red 
 road. Before them lay the dark blue plain of ocean, 
 fading into a misty, troubled haze which met the far 
 horizon. Gradually they increased their distance from 
 the gay gardens and villas of the more populous suburbs, 
 the spires and terraces of the city. 
 
 ' This has always been a favourite excursion of mine,' 
 said Antonia. ' From the moment we pass Waverley and 
 front the ocean in all his wondrous strength and beauty, 
 I feel as if I could shout for joy. Morahmee is very 
 pretty, but the harbour has always a kind of lakelike 
 prettiness to me ; like the beds in a flower garden, while 
 here ' 
 
 ' And here ? ' said Ernest, smiling, as the southern 
 maiden fixed her earnest gaze upon the wide glory of the 
 unbounded sea, with a passion and tenderness of regard 
 which he had never observed before. 
 
 ' Here,' said she, ' I feel lifted from my daily small 
 pleasures and xery minute cares into a w^orld of thought
 
 XIV A COLONIAL REFORMER 245 
 
 and vision, exalted, infinite in grandeur and richness of 
 colouring. i\Iy mind travels across that region of mystery 
 and wonder which the sea has ever been to adventurous 
 and practical minds, and all my heroes stand visibly 
 presented before me.' 
 
 ' Please to introduce me,' said Ernest. 
 
 ' I see AValter Ealeigh, courtier, poet, warrior, sailor, 
 statesman, and can mourn over him, as though I had 
 seen that noblest of heads upon the cruel block but 
 yesterday. I see Francis Drake with his crisp curls and 
 dauntless spirit ; I see Columbus ever calm, watchful, 
 indomitable ; Ponce de Leon, pacing up and down his 
 lonely beach at Hispaniola, and can fancy him setting 
 forth upon his half-melancholy, half-ludicrous expedition 
 to la fontaiii de joiwences ; even Bimini — oh ! the many, 
 many friends and companions that have ever been associ- 
 ated with the sea in my mind since my earliest child- 
 hood.' 
 
 ' I am afraid,' said Ernest, translatincr an unacknow- 
 ledged thought, 'that you must be something like a 
 cocoa-palm, or your own Norfolk Island pine, unable to 
 exist out of hearing of the sound of the sea.' 
 
 ' I never thought about that,' answered the girl with a 
 half-curious look, as if back from the unreal world. ' I 
 have always fancied that I would do whatever other 
 people would do. But we all have our pet fancies, which 
 we spoil like children, or which spoil us, and the prosaic 
 part of our life has to go on notwithstanding.' 
 
 ' Have you ever seen anything of the bush ? ' inquired 
 Ernest. 
 
 ' Nothing more than a very hasty visit to one or two 
 of the inland towns. I have always wished to go to a 
 real station and see something of bush life, but papa
 
 246 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 never could spare me sufficiently long. What is it like ? 
 All riding about, from morning to night, and being very 
 sleepy in the evening ? ' 
 
 ' There is a good deal of that/ said he, ' but not quite 
 so much as might be thought. There is a great want of 
 books, and of the habit of reading, in many places, though 
 I know of course that it is not universal. But I think 
 when I have a place of my own that I can manage to 
 unite work and play, real exertion with an intellectual 
 alternation, and this should be the perfection of existence.' 
 
 ' I don't see why it could not be managed,' said 
 Antonia. 'Many of the young squatters have told me 
 that they could not get books, and that they were becom- 
 ing frightfully ignorant ; but I always said it must be 
 their own fault. Any one who 7nust read will read, no 
 matter what their circumstances are.' 
 
 ' So I believe,' answered Ernest, with most apprecia- 
 tive accents. ' When young people, or people of any age, 
 say they have not time to read, it sounds in my ears as 
 if they said that they had not time to eat their dinners, 
 or to bathe, or say their prayers, or to talk to their 
 friends. For these duties and other distractions they 
 generally find leisure, and if the time be really fully 
 occupied, a quarter of an hour almost in converse with 
 some authors would provide the mind with new and in- 
 structive thoughts for the whole livelong day.' 
 
 ' Well, we must see how Mr. Neuchamp carries out 
 his ideas when he has a station of his own,' said Antonia 
 archly. 'He must have everything very nice, very 
 superior to the ordinary ways of colonists, and must n;ake 
 money also ; that is indispensable.' 
 
 ' I will answer for his trying to have things pleasantly 
 and perhaps artistically arranged,' said Ernest, following
 
 XIV A COLOXIAL REFORMER 247 
 
 out the sketch ; ' but as for the making money, I have so 
 little interest in it as one of the fine arts, that I may fail 
 in that.' 
 
 ' But that is the foundation of all the good deeds that 
 you may do, so at least papa says. If a man doesn't 
 make money, I heard him say once, he shows all the 
 world that there is some quality lacking in him, and any 
 little that he can say or do will not have its just weight ; 
 he is regarded only as an unpractical, unsuccessful en- 
 thusiast.' 
 
 ' I hate the word enthusiast,' said Mr. Neuchamp, ' or 
 rather the sense of disparagement in which it is generally 
 used. It has come to mean, a man who is obstinately 
 bent on a course of conduct which is wrong, or who 
 exaggerates the degree or importance of his practice in 
 what is right.' 
 
 ' I cannot say that I am particularly fond of the word 
 or of the idea myself, woman as I am ; and you know 
 that we are supposed to be full of enthusiasm on every 
 conceivable subject from parasols to politics.' 
 
 'And why does Miss Frankston add her powerful 
 influence to the world's Philistinism, already sufficient 
 for its needs ? ' asked Ernest, with a slight tinge of satire. 
 
 ' I don't say that I deny or distrust enthusiasm in 
 men ; and I can imagine a sincere respect and liking for 
 the individual to go with a distrust of the quality, and 
 for this reason. We may have the greatest admiration 
 for this lofty feeling and generous self-denial which go to 
 compose, the character of the enthusiast ; but we may 
 smile at the likelihood of any of his great schemes issuing 
 in glory and success.' 
 
 * But, surely,' pleaded Ernest, ' many of the great deeds 
 which embellish history and which have ennobled our
 
 248 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 common natures have been nurtured in the brains, 
 wrought out by the hands of men whom the world call 
 enthusiasts.' 
 
 'Of that fact I am not so sure/ answered Antonia. 
 ' I should rather say that the successful heroes were men 
 of steadfast nature, not particularly acted upon by joy or 
 despondency, whom success did not exhilarate, nor adver- 
 sity bow down ; through good and evil report, failure, or 
 the harder trial of success, they bore themselves calmly 
 and strongly.' 
 
 ' But how about the sea — and the mysterious intoxi- 
 cation communicated by its very appearance ? ' asked 
 Ernest mischievously. ' Is there no enthusiasm about 
 such a feeling ? ' 
 
 ' All those sensations,' laughed the girl, ' belong to the 
 ideal Antonia Frankston, of which only a glimpse is per- 
 mitted to any one from time to time. The real Miss 
 Frankston ' 
 
 ' What does she do ? ' 
 
 ' Makes puddings, keeps the household accounts, orders 
 dinner, and has distinct ideas on the subject of the main 
 chance ; 'very prosaic this last. Is not that a lovely nook, 
 and such a pretty house ? ' 
 
 At this turn of the subject, and the turn of the road, 
 they had unexpectedly come upon a villa embosomed in 
 an almost Alpine fir grove ; the trim lawns and delicately- 
 coloured parterres, amid which it was placed, giving the 
 whole place the appearance of a Watteau, framed in 
 sombre green. 
 
 ' It is a living picture,' said Ernest ; ' how that wonder- 
 ful Bougainvillea has draped the whole height of the north 
 wing of the house ; it is in full and splendid bloom, and 
 mingled with it are the snowy flowers of the delicate
 
 XIV A COLOXIAL REFORMER 249 
 
 myosotis. How cliarmingiy secluded it is ; tliey can look 
 straight from their parlours across those dwarf-walls— 
 across the Pacific Ocean. But where is the shepherdess ? ' 
 
 ' There she is ; do you not see that young girl sitting 
 reading by the fountain ? Calm and untroubled she 
 looks ; she reclines upon the low terrace facing the sea ; 
 by her side is a great vase filled with flowers. A child 
 with a wide sash runs out from the house towards her. 
 Can anything more closely realise a deep dream of peace ? ' 
 
 ' Xothing, indeed/ assented Ernest admiringly. ' I 
 could live all my days in such a nook, with one fair 
 spirit to be my minister, and perhaps defer finishing my 
 own and other people's education indefinitely.' 
 
 ' Look ! ' continued Antonia, ignoring the personal 
 element, ' with what a bold, sweeping curve the coast- 
 line recedes ; leaving the loveliest little landlocked bay, 
 with silver sands and a grand sandstone bluff guarding 
 and walling-in the farther point like a grim jealous giant. 
 But now we have such a piece of road, before we reach 
 Bondi — smooth, soft, and slightly ascending. We muM 
 have a gentle breather.' 
 
 She took Waratah by the head, and slightly bending 
 forward on her saddle, the eager thoroughbred went away 
 at once, causing the heart of Mr. Neuchamp to palpitate 
 with a nervous dread of accident. Of course Osmund 
 followed suit, though it gave him quite enough to do to 
 keep pace with the bounding, elastic stride of the well- 
 bred flyer. In a three-mile race he could have run 
 Waratah hard. However, for the half-mile spin it took 
 a little hustling to prevent his being distanced. At the 
 steep ascent of the hill above the far-famed beach, Antonia 
 reined in her steed, which possessed the rare compromise, 
 good temper with high courage.
 
 250 A COLONIAL REFOKMER chap. 
 
 ' I suppose that our stupid scientific men will never 
 find out any way for us to fly/ said she, 'but a good 
 gallop must be as near the sensation as w^e can hope for. 
 What a glorious feeling it is ! I envy men their hunt- 
 ing, perhaps more than any of their exclusive pastimes.' 
 
 ' But ladies hunt, at any rate in England,' said Ernest, 
 ' and very straight they go too.' 
 
 ' So they do, I have been told ; but in Australia there 
 are hardly enough of us to keep one another countenance ; 
 and besides, papa does not like it ; the fences are so very 
 dangerous.' 
 
 ' All things considered, I agree with Mr. Erankston.' 
 
 ' But what a view of views ! ' 
 
 They had now reached the crest of the hill, the deep- 
 toned ceaseless roll of the surf-billows had long been in 
 their ears. 
 
 'That is Bondi,' said Antonia, pointing southward. 
 ' I have heard that sound at intervals all my life. I used 
 to dream of it when I was a little child.' 
 
 Ernest looked southward over a rolling, rugged down, 
 flecked with patches of low underwood and heath, to 
 where a broad, milk-white beach received the vast rollers 
 of a boundless ocean. No point or headland broke the 
 continuous distance of the immense dark blue plain which 
 stretched to the utmost boundary of vision. 
 
 It was no day of gale or tempest, but there had been 
 sufficient wind on this and the previous day to set in 
 motion the unresting surges which failed not the year 
 through to moan and thunder upon this broad clear shin- 
 ing beach. Great crags lay to the westward, shutting oft' 
 this bay from the other portions of the coast, while a 
 projection to the eastward tended to isolate the bay of 
 surgfes. Ear out, from time to time a shining sail came
 
 XIV A COLONIAL REFORMER 251 
 
 from the under-world and swept placidly towards the 
 city, or a stately ocean steamer, with throbbing screw or 
 mighty paddle, left a long line of smoke trailing behind 
 her as she drove haughtily against wind or tide on her 
 appointed course. 
 
 ' How one drinks in all this grandeur and loveliness 
 of Dame Xature,' said Ernest. ' An instinctive constitu- 
 tional craving seems satiated only by gazing at a scene 
 like this.' 
 
 ' I fully comprehend the condition of mind,' said 
 Antonia. ' You have been shut up at Garrandilla, where 
 in time, except from information, you would begin to 
 doubt the existence of the sea altogether.' 
 
 ' It is an astonishing contrast,' assented Mr. Neu- 
 champ. ' How awfully hot it must be there now. I dare- 
 say old Doubletides is just coming in, half melted after 
 his day's work, looking for lost sheep — counting one 
 flock, and orderino' another to come in to-morrow.' 
 
 ' Surely it must be a terrible life,' said Antonia appre- 
 hensively. ' Is that why people in the bush go mad 
 sometimes ? ' 
 
 ' It's hard to say. I really don't think he or Jedwood 
 are even dull or distrait, or unduly impressed with the 
 nothingness of existence. I think very energetic people 
 have certain advantages. Their tugiike, unremitting 
 habit of doing something keeps the machine going, until 
 some fine day a cogwheel catches, or a rivet breaks, and 
 one more human unit mingles its dust with the forgotten 
 millions.' 
 
 ' Contemplation is very nice,' said Antonia, ' but I 
 think it tends to lower the spirits, whereas work of any 
 kind, with or without a purpose, tends to raise them ; 
 and now we must ride for it, or we shall be late for
 
 252 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 dinner, which I know from experience does not tend to 
 raise papa's spirits.' 
 
 The roads were perfect, and the kindly twilight as 
 they swept past the fine plantations of Eandwick, and 
 adown the noble avenue which in the future will be one 
 of the glories of Sydney, through the wide half-redeemed 
 expanse of Moore Park, and so home by Woollahra, gave 
 them every opportunity of lengthening their tete-a-Ute, 
 and yet arriving at Morahmee in time for dinner. It 
 necessitated a hasty toilet on both sides, but at the last 
 notes of the bell Antonia appeared, looking very fresh 
 and animated after the expedition, and Ernest, whose 
 appetite had not yet relapsed into metropolitan apathy, 
 looked forward to dinner with feelings of almost youthful 
 anticipation. 
 
 ' Well, what do you think of Bondi ? ' asked the old 
 gentleman. ' I was nearly drowned there when I was a 
 youngster swimming in the surf. In fact I vms drowned 
 to all intents and purposes, except that I am here now. 
 I was sucked back by the undertow time after time, till 
 I was quite beaten. I had a few minutes' awful 
 struggle ; then collapse and half a minute's choke ; then 
 lovely music in my ears ; and I left the world — as I 
 thought — for good.' 
 
 ' You dear old naughty boy of a father,' said Antonia, 
 with tears half gathering to her eye, ' I am sure you were 
 bathing unlawfully, like the boys in the story-book. But 
 what restored you to life ? ' 
 
 * Well, a Maori, who happened to come up at the time 
 in a fi shin 0-- boat. He could swim.' 
 
 ' But I thought you said that you were swimming in 
 the surf and did your best to fight through it ? ' inquired 
 Ernest.
 
 XIV A COLOXIAL REFORMER 253 
 
 ' Maoris and Kanakas can swim,' repeated the old man 
 sarcastically. ' White men like you and me can only 
 paddle. Anyhow, he dived and brought me up, and ten 
 minutes after I was suffering the frightful ' torture, 
 " coming to." So, as perhaps you may have guessed, I 
 did not die that time.' 
 
 ' Oft in danger, yet alive, 
 We are come to, fifty-five,' 
 
 quoted Ernest. ' I daresay you have had all sorts of hair- 
 breadth escapes, if you would only tell them to us.' 
 
 ' Escapes ! well, I have had a few,' chuckled the old 
 man. ' Some day I must make Antonia write them out, 
 and we'll publish the Surprising Adventures of Paul 
 FranJcston. I wonder if I could put in some of my 
 stories ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! How they would laugh.' 
 
 ' I think your life would make a capital book,' said 
 Antonia, ' and you could afford to leave the stories 
 out.' 
 
 ' Ha ! well, I don't know ; some people might object ; 
 but I have seen some queer places and people, and had 
 some very narrow squeaks. I was a ship boy in the 
 Lloyd when the Maoris took her at the Bay of Islands.' 
 
 ' What did they do ? ' asked Ernest. 
 
 ' Do ? Only murdered every living soul except a 
 little girl and myself! Old Parson Eamsden came down 
 months after and ransomed us. He could go anywhere. 
 That little girl is a grandmother now. I could show you 
 such a splendid bit of tattooing just — Antonia, my dear, 
 you needn't be afraid.' 
 
 ' Don't be foolish, papa,' said Antonia, blushing. * Mr. 
 Neuchamp, he is only joking.' 
 
 ' Joking,' said the old man ; ' if you'd only had those
 
 254 A COLONIAL REFORMER chap. 
 
 patterns printed out slowly and indelibly, like me and 
 Mrs. Liitton, poor thing, you'd have known it was no 
 joke.' 
 
 ' Well, they didn't eat you that time, at any rate,' said 
 Ernest, coming to the rescue ; ' a hero can't be killed in 
 the first volume ; and what was the next narrow 
 escape ? ' 
 
 ' Years afterwards I was cast away in the south seas, 
 and came ashore on a spar at an island where they'd 
 never heard of a white man. They had sacrifices and 
 prayers and made a kind of lottery about whether they 
 should eat me ; when, as luck would have it, the chief 
 had lost his eldest son a year before, and the priests said 
 I was him come back. So I was turned into a Kanaka 
 Prince of Wales.' 
 
 ' And was the rank properly kept up ? ' 
 
 ' JoUiest place I ever was in, before or since ; I had 
 been starved and shipwrecked, and I tell you it was a 
 pleasant change ; I was the second man in the island. 
 I had a palace, partly leaves, but cool and pleasant. I 
 had thirty — well — hum — ha — more attendants than I 
 knew what to do with. I cried, I know, when a Yankee 
 whaler took me off six months after. But come, this 
 won't do. Master Ernest, you mustn't keep me spinning 
 sea-yarns all night about myself. You haven't half told 
 us about your doings. Was Captain Jinks really a 
 pleasant sort of fellow ? And how about the lock-up ? ' 
 
 ' Come, papa,' said Antonia, ' it's hardly fair to Mr. 
 Neuchamp to laugh at him about that little mistake — 
 any one might be taken in by a nice-looking, clever, 
 plausible man.' 
 
 ' Well, I confess,' said Ernest boldly, ' I was taken in, 
 thous^h I ouo'ht to have known better. If I had seen a
 
 XIV A COLONIAL REFORMER 255 
 
 seedy aristocrat in my own country, I should not have 
 made a travelling companion of him. But he was very 
 clever and good-looking, and I thought there was nothing 
 wonderful in such a man being out of luck in a colony.' 
 
 ' Never mind ; fault on the right side/ said Mr. Frank- 
 ston — ' anything's better than being suspicious ; you'll cut 
 your wisdom teeth before you've done with us.' 
 
 END OF VOL. I 
 
 Fringed by R. & R. Clark, Edinburgh.
 
 1