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The Land of the Kangaroo

by Thomas Wallace Knox · English · Gutenberg #23995 · 503,305 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Land of the Kangaroo

Author: Thomas Wallace Knox


        
Release date: December 26, 2007 [eBook #23995]
                Most recently updated: January 3, 2021

Language: English

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THE LAND OF THE KANGAROO.

      *      *      *      *      *

TRAVEL ADVENTURE SERIES.

IN WILD AFRICA. The Adventures of Two Youths in the Sahara Desert. By
Thomas W. Knox. 325 pages, with six illustrations by H. Burgess. 12mo.
Cloth. $1.50.

THE LAND OF THE KANGAROO. The Adventures of Two Youths in the Great
Island Continent. By Thomas W. Knox. 350 pages, with five illustrations
by H. Burgess. 12mo. Cloth. $1.50.

Col. Knox's sudden death, ten days after completing "The Land of the
Kangaroo" leaves unfinished this series of travel stories for boys
which he had planned. The publishers announce that the remaining
volumes of this series will be issued, although the work will be
done by another's hand.

Announcement concerning the remaining volumes of this series will be
made later.

      *      *      *      *      *


THE LAND OF THE KANGAROO.

Adventures of Two Youths in a Journey Through
the Great Island Continent.

by

THOMAS W. KNOX.

Author of "In Wild Africa," "The Boy Travelers," (15 Vols.)
"Overland through Asia," Etc., Etc.

Illustrated By H. Burgess.







[Illustration: "WE PASSED A SHIP BECALMED IN THE DOLDRUMS."]



Boston, U. S. A.
W. A. Wilde & Company,
25 Bromfield Street.

Copyright, 1896.
by W. A. Wilde & Co.
All rights reserved.

The Land of the Kangaroo.




PREFACE.

The rapidly increasing prominence of the Australian colonies during the
past ten or twenty years has led to the preparation of the volume of
which this is the preface. Australia has a population numbering close
upon five millions and it had prosperous and populous cities, all of
them presenting abundant indications of collective and individual
wealth. It possesses railways and telegraphs by thousands of miles, and
the productions of its farms, mines, and plantations aggregate an
enormous amount. It has many millions, of cattle and sheep, and their
number is increasing annually at a prodigious rate.

Australia is a land of many wonders, and it is to tell the story of
these wonders and of the growth and development of the colonies of the
antipodes, that this volume has been written.

                                                                T. W. K.



CONTENTS.

     I. WEST COAST OF AFRICA--Adventure in the South Atlantic Ocean
    II. THE CAPE OF GOOD HOPE--The Southern Ocean--Australia
   III. A LAND OF CONTRADICTIONS--Transportation to Australia
    IV. STRANGE ADVENTURES--Australian Aboriginals
     V. ACROSS AUSTRALIA--Tallest Trees in the World
    VI. AUSTRALIAN BLACKS--Throwing the Boomerang
   VII. ADELAIDE TO MELBOURNE--The Rabbit Pest--Dangerous Exotics
  VIII. CANNIBAL BLACKS--Melbourne and its Peculiarities
    IX. "THE LAUGHING JACKASS"--Australian Snakes and Snake Stories
     X. THE HARBOR OF MELBOURNE--Convict Hulks and Bushrangers
    XI. GEELONG--Australian Gold Mines--Finding a Big Nugget
   XII. A SOUTHERLY BURSTER--Western Victoria
  XIII. JOURNEY UP COUNTRY--Anecdotes of Bush Life
   XIV. LOST IN THE BUSH--Australian Horses
    XV. EXPERIENCES AT A CATTLE STATION--A Kangaroo Hunt
   XVI. HUNTING THE EMU AND OTHER BIRDS--An Australian Sheep Run
  XVII. FROM MELBOURNE TO SYDNEY--Crossing the Blue Mountains
 XVIII. SIGHTS OF SYDNEY--Botany Bay and Paramatta
   XIX. COAL MINES AT NEWCASTLE--Sugar Plantation in Queensland--The End




ILLUSTRATIONS.
                                                          PAGE.

"We passed a ship becalmed in the doldrums" Frontispiece.    18
"Harry had obtained a map of Australia"                      56
A visit to the Zoological Garden                            147
"There they go!" shouted Mr. Syme                           242





THE LAND OF THE KANGAROO.

CHAPTER I.

WEST COAST OF AFRICA--ADVENTURE IN THE SOUTH ATLANTIC OCEAN.


"We don't want to stay long in this place."

"I don't think we do, sir," was the reply.

"The sooner we leave it, the better."

"That is so," said Harry; "I quite agree with you. I wonder how white
men manage to live here at all."

This conversation occurred at Bonny, a trading station on one of the
mouths of the river Niger in Western Africa. In former times Bonny was a
famous resort for slave traders, and great numbers of slaves were sent
from that place to North and South America. In addition to slave
trading, there was considerable dealing in ivory, palm oils, and other
African products. Trade is not as prosperous at Bonny nowadays as it was
in the slave-dealing times, but there is a fair amount of commerce and
the commissions of the factors and agents are very large. Bonny stands
in a region of swamps, and the climate exhales at all times of the year
pestilential vapors which are not at all suited to the white man. Most
of the white residents live on board old hulks which are moored to the
bank of the river, and they find these hulks less unhealthy than houses
off shore, for the reason that they are less exposed to the vapors of
the ground.

The parties to the conversation just quoted were Dr. Whitney and his
nephews, Ned and Harry; they had just arrived at Bonny, from a visit to
Lake Chad and Timbuctoo, and had made a voyage down the Niger, which has
been described in a volume entitled "In Wild Africa."

One of the residents told Dr. Whitney that all the coast of the Bight of
Benin, into which the Niger empties by its various mouths, was quite as
unhealthy as Bonny. "We don't expect anybody to live more than three or
four years after taking up his residence here," the gentleman remarked,
"and very often one or two years are sufficient to carry him off. The
climate is bad enough, but it isn't the climate that is to blame for all
the mortality, by any means. The great curse of the whole region is the
habit of drinking. Everybody drinks, and drinks like a fish, too. When
you call on anybody, the servants, without waiting for orders, bring a
bottle of brandy, or whiskey, or something of the sort, and place it on
the table between the host and the visitor. You are expected to drink,
and the man who declines to do so is looked upon as a milksop. When one
rises in the morning, his first call is for brandy and soda, and it is
brandy, and whiskey, and champagne, or some other intoxicant, all the
day long. The climate is bad enough without any help, but the drinking
habit of the residents along the Bight of Benin is worse than the
climate, and everybody knows it; but, somehow or other, everybody is
reckless and continues to drink, knowing perfectly well what the result
will be."

Dr. Whitney had already made observations to the same effect, and
remarked that he thought the west coast of Africa would be a good field
of labor for an advocate of total abstinence. His new acquaintance
replied that it might be under ordinary circumstances, but that the
conditions of the region where they were not ordinary. It was
necessary to remember that the men who went to West Africa for purposes
of trade were of a reckless, adventurous sort, having little regard for
the future and determined to make the most of the present. Men of this
class take very naturally to habits of dissipation, and would turn a
deaf ear to any advocate of temperance who might come among them.

Fortunately for our friends, they were detained at Bonny only a single
day. A small steamer which runs between Bonny and Fernando Po took them
to the latter place, which is on an island in the Atlantic Ocean, and
has a mountain peak ten thousand feet high. This peak is wooded to the
summit with fine timber, and altogether the island is a very attractive
spot to the eye, in comparison with Bonny and the swampy region of the
lower Niger.

Port Clarence, the harbor of Fernando Po, is said to be one of the
prettiest places of Western Africa. The town consists of a group of
houses somewhat irregularly placed, and guarded by a fort which could be
knocked down in a few hours by a fleet of modern warships.

Our friends went on shore immediately after their arrival, and found
quarters in what Ned called an apology for a hotel. Fernando Po is the
property of Spain, and the island is one of the State prisons of that
country. Some of the prisoners are kept in hulks in the harbor, while
others are confined in the fort. Not infrequently prisoners escape and
find shelter among the Adyia, the tribe of natives inhabiting the
island. They are a peaceful people, but have a marked hatred for
civilization. They rarely come into the town, and none of them will
consent to live there. Their huts or villages are scattered over the
forests, and when visitors go among them they are kindly treated. The
town of Port Clarence is occupied by a few white men and a considerable
number of negroes from Sierra Leone, Liberia, and other regions along
the coast.

"This will be as good a place to get away from as Bonny," the doctor
remarked to his nephews, as they were strolling about Port Clarence.

"I have observed," said Harry, "that the wind is blowing directly from
the coast, and therefore is bringing with it the malarias of the swampy
region which we have just left."

"That is quite true," the doctor answered, "and the circumstance you
mention makes a long stay here undesirable. Have you noticed that many
of the natives here seem to be suffering from skin diseases of one kind
or another?"

"I observed that," replied Ned, "and was wondering what was the cause of
it."

"I was told by a gentleman at the hotel," said the doctor, "that there
is an ulcer peculiar to this locality which is well-nigh incurable. The
slightest abrasion of the cuticle or even the bite of an insect is
sufficient to cause it. I was told that it sometimes happens that the
bite of a mosquito on the arm or leg will make amputation necessary,
and an instance of this kind occurred within the past three months. On a
first view of the island it looks like a delightful place, but a nearer
acquaintance dispels the illusion."

"I wonder how long we will be obliged to stay here," Harry remarked.

"According to the time-table," replied the doctor, "the mail steamer
will be here to-morrow; and if she comes, you may be sure we will take
passage on her."

The steamer came according to schedule, and when she left she carried
the three travelers away from Fernando Po. She was an English steamer
bound for the Cape of Good Hope. There was hardly any wind blowing when
the great ship started out into the Atlantic and headed away to the
southward, but the movement of the vessel through the water was
sufficient to create a breeze, which our friends greatly enjoyed. They
sat beneath the awnings which covered the entire length and width of the
steamer, studied their fellow-passengers, and now and then cast their
eyes over the wide and desolate sweep of waters to the west and south.

Not a sail was to be seen, a few craft were creeping along the coast,
but they were not numerous enough to add animation to the scene.

We will take from Harry's notebook an incident or two of the voyage.

"We found a mixed lot of passengers on board the steamer. There were a
few Englishmen going to South Africa for the first time,--young fellows
seeking their fortunes, and full of hope and ambition. One of them said
he was going up country on a hunting expedition, not for the sport only,
but for the money that could be made by the sale of hides, ivory, horns,
and other products of the chase. He was quite well informed concerning
the business on which he was bent, and told me that it was the custom
for two or more men, generally not above four, to buy wagons, oxen,
horses, and provisions in one of the towns on the coast or in the
interior, and then strike out into the wild country for an absence of
anywhere from three to six or seven months. Their provisions consisted
of flour, sugar, tea, pepper, salt, and a few other things. For meat
they relied upon what they killed; and he added that a great deal of
meat was needed, as there were from twenty-five to fifty natives
attached to a hunting party and all of them had ferocious appetites.

"They shot anything that came in their way, elephants, buffaloes,
elands, gemsbok, and I don't know what else. It was a hard life and not
without risk, but it was healthy and full of good sport. He told us so
much about his business that Ned and I heartily wished to go with him
and have a share in the experience and fun.

"Another young man was going out as a mining engineer and expected to
find employment in some of the newly opened gold mines in the
Johannesburg district. Another was to become the manager of a large farm
forty or fifty miles from Cape Town, which was owned by his uncle.
Another young man was going out with no particular object in view, and
said he was ready for anything that turned up.

"Then there were Afrikanders who had been on a visit to England for
business, or pleasure, or both combined. One had been there for the
express purpose of finding a bride; he found her, and she was with him
as a passenger on the steamer. She and two others were the only lady
passengers on the ship; men greatly predominated among the passengers,
and we were told that such was always the case on board one of these
steamers. One of the passengers was a resident of Durban, the port of
Natal, and he gave us a cordial invitation to visit his place. 'You will
find Durban a very interesting spot,' said he, 'and the only bad thing
about it is getting ashore. There is a nasty sea breaking there most of
the time, and it is tedious work getting from a ship into a small boat
and then getting safe to land. You must come prepared to be soused with
salt water two or three times before you get your feet fairly planted on
the shore.'

"Ned and I concluded that we would not make any special effort to get to
Durban, although we had received such a cordial invitation to go there.

"We had a good breeze," continued Harry, "until we got to within four
degrees of the Equator; then the wind died out and left the sea as
smooth as glass, without the least motion upon it anywhere. We seemed to
be running through an enormous plate of glass, polished until it shone
like the most perfect mirror ever made. As we looked down from the rail
into the depths of the sea our faces were reflected, and there seemed to
be a counterfeit presentment of ourselves gazing at us from the depths
below, and, oh, wasn't it hot, blistering, burning hot! The sun poured
down so that the heat pierced our awnings as though no awnings had been
there, and the breeze which the ship created by her motion seemed like
the blast from a furnace. The pitch oozed from the seams of the planking
on the deck, and the deck itself became blistering hot to one's feet.
There was not the least stir of the sails and only the faintest motion
of the ship from side to side. Respiration became difficult, and, as I
looked about, I could see the passengers and sailors yawning and gaping
in the effort to draw in their breath. All the metal about the ship
became hot, especially the brass. If you touched it, it almost seemed to
raise a blister, and the spot with which you touched it was painful for
hours.

"We passed a ship becalmed in the doldrums, as this region is called,
and she looked more like a painted ship upon a painted ocean than any
other craft I ever saw. Her sails were all hanging loose, and so were
all the ropes, and lines, and halyards from one end of the ship to the
other. She was as motionless as if she were tied up to a dock in harbor,
and there was very little sign of life about her anywhere. I asked one
of our officers how long that ship had probably been there and how long
she was liable to stay.

"'That's a question, young man,' he replied, 'that I can't answer very
surely. She may have been there a day or two only, and may stay only a
day or so, and then, again, she may have been there a week or a month;
we can't tell without speaking her, and we are not particularly
interested in her, anyhow.'"

Then he went on to explain that ships have been becalmed at the Equator
for two months and more, lying all the time in a dead calm, just like
the one through which we were passing.

"Two weeks," he said, "is a fair time for a ship to stay in the
doldrums, and you can be sure it is quite long enough for passengers and
crew.

"Passengers and crew sometimes die of the heat, and existence under such
circumstances becomes a burden. There are stories about ships that have
been in the doldrums six or eight months at a time, but I am not
inclined to believe them; for a man to stay in this terrific heat for
that length of time would be enough to drive him crazy.

"The steamer was three days in the calm belt of the Equator before we
struck the southeast trades, and had a breeze again. I don't want to
repeat my experiences with the doldrums.

"One day I heard a curious story about an incident on board an American
ship not far from the Cape of Good Hope. She was from Calcutta, and
bound to New York, and her crew consisted of American sailors, with the
exception of two Indian coolies who had been taken on board at Calcutta
because the ship was short-handed. One of these coolies had been put,
one in the starboard and the other in the port watch, and everything had
been quiet and peaceable on board the ship until the incident I am about
to describe.

"One night the ship was sailing quietly along, and some of the men
noticed, or remembered afterwards, that when the watches were changed,
the coolie who had been relieved from duty remained on deck. Shortly
after the change of watch, the two mates of the ship were standing near
the lee rail and talking with each other, when the two coolies came
along and one of them made the remark that he was sick. This remark was
evidently a signal, for instantly one of the coolies drew a knife and
stabbed the first mate to the heart, while simultaneously the other
coolie sprang with a knife at the second officer and gave him several
stabs in the chest.

"The first mate fell dead at the stroke of the knife, but the second
mate had sufficient strength left to crawl to the companionway leading
to the captain's room, where he called out, 'Captain Clark!' 'Captain
Clark!' and then ceased to breathe.

"The captain sprang from his bunk, and rushed on deck in his
night-clothes. At the top of the companion-steps he was violently
stabbed on the head and seized by the throat; he was quite unarmed and
struck out with his fists at the face of his assailant, hoping to blind
him. The coolie continued to stab him, and the captain started back down
the steps until he slipped in the blood that covered them, and fell into
the cabin, with a terrible wound in his side. He then crawled to where
his revolver was, and started up the steps; when half way up, a man
rolled down the steps against him and knocked him over.

"The captain thought it was the coolie, but it proved to be one of the
sailors, who was frightened half to death. All he could say was, to beg
of the captain to save him.

"The captain had his wife and child on board, and his wife was roused by
the tumult. She came to her husband's aid and proceeded to bind up his
wounds. While she was doing this one of the coolies smashed in the
skylight, and would have jumped into the cabin had not the captain fired
at him with his revolver and drove him away.

"The next thing the coolies did was to murder the man at the wheel and
fling his body overboard. Then they murdered the carpenter and a sailor
and disposed of them the same way. Including the two mates, five men
were slain and four others were wounded. The wounded men and the rest of
the crew barricaded themselves in the forecastle for protection, and
there they remained the rest of the night and all through the next day.
The captain and his wife and child stayed in the cabin.

"The two coolies were in full possession of the ship from a little past
midnight until eight o'clock of the following evening. One of them,
venturing near the skylight, was shot in the breast by the captain, and
then the two coolies rushed forward and threw a spar overboard. One of
them jumped into the sea and clung to the spar, while the other dropped
down into the between-decks, where he proceeded to set the ship on fire.
Seeing this, the sailors who had barricaded themselves in the forecastle
broke out, and two of them proceeded to hunt the coolie down with
revolvers. They hunted him out and shot him in the shoulder, and then he
jumped overboard and joined his companion. Shots were fired at the two
men, and soon afterward they sank.

"The fire got such headway that it could not be put out. Finally a boat
was provisioned and lowered; the crew entered it, and after waiting
about the ship during the night in the hope that the flames might bring
assistance, they put up a sail and headed for St. Helena. Thus was a
ship's crew of twenty-three people overawed and rendered helpless by two
slender coolies, whom any one of the Yankee crew could have crushed out
of existence in a very short space of time.

"The steamer passed near Ascension Island, but did not stop there. This
island is entered in the British Navy List as a commissioned ship. It is
nearly three thousand feet high, very rocky and well supplied with fresh
water. Ships often stop there for a supply of water and such fresh
provisions as are obtainable. The climate is said to be very healthy,
and when the crews of British naval vessels are enfeebled by a long stay
on the African coast, they go to Ascension Island to recruit their
strength."

Ned and Harry were very desirous of visiting the island of St. Helena,
which became famous as a prison and for many years the grave of
Napoleon. They were disappointed on ascertaining that the ship would not
stop there, and the officer of whom they made inquiry said there was
nothing to stop there for. "The island is not of much account," he said,
"and the natives have a hard time to make a living. In the days of
sailing ships it was a favorite stopping place and the inhabitants did a
good business. The general introduction of steamships, along with the
digging of the Suez Canal, have knocked their business all to pieces.

"Where they used to have a dozen or twenty ships a month, they get about
half as many in a year. The buildings where Napoleon used to live are
all gone to ruin, and the sight of them does not pay for the journey
one has to make to get there."

When it was announced that the vessel was nearing the Cape of Good Hope,
our young friends strained their eyes in a friendly competition to be
first to make it out. Harry was ahead of Ned in discerning the dim
outline of Table Mountain, which is well described by its name. It is a
flat-topped mountain fronting on the bay on which Cape Town stands. It
is about three thousand five hundred feet in height, and is guarded on
the left by the Lion's Head, and on the right by the Devil's Berg. The
harbor is reached by passing between a small island and the coast, the
island forming a very fair shelter for ships that lie inside of it.

Here the voyage of the steamer came to an end, as she belonged to one of
the lines plying between England and the Cape. It became necessary for
our friends to look around for another ship to carry them to their
destination. They were not in any particular hurry about it, as they
were quite willing to devote a little time to the Cape and its
peculiarities.

A swarm of boats surrounded the ship as soon as her anchor was down, and
everybody was in a hurry to get on shore. As soon as our friends could
obtain a boat, their baggage was passed over the side and they followed
it. The boat was managed by a white man, evidently of Dutch origin, who
spoke a mixture of Dutch, English, and Hottentot, and perhaps two or
three other native languages, in such a confused way that it was
difficult to understand him in any. Four negroes rowed the boat and did
the work while the Dutchman superintended it. The boatman showed a
laudable desire to swindle the travelers, but his intentions were curbed
by the stringent regulations established by the city authorities.

As they neared the landing place, Ned called attention to a swarm of
cabs that seemed to be far in excess of any possible demand for them.
Harry remarked that he didn't think they would have any lack of vehicles
to take them to the hotel, and so it proved. The cab drivers displayed
great eagerness in their efforts to secure passengers, and their prices
were by no means unreasonable.

We will listen to Ned as he tells the story of what he saw on landing in
Cape Town.

"The thing that impressed me most was the varying complexion of the
inhabitants. They are not exactly of the colors of the rainbow, but they
certainly present all the shades of complexion that can be found in the
human face. You see fair-haired Englishmen, and English women, too, and
then you see negroes so black that charcoal 'would make a white mark on
their faces,' as one of my schoolmates used to say. Between these two,
so far as color is concerned, you see several shades of negro
complexion; and you also see Malays, coolies from India, Chinese, and I
don't know what else. The Malays or coolies have drifted here in search
of employment, and the same is the case with the Chinese, who are to be
found, so Dr. Whitney says, in every port of Asia and Africa.

"Most of these exotic people cling to their native costume, especially
the natives of India, and the Malays, though a good deal depends on the
employment in which they engage. Some of the Malays drive cabs, and the
drivers usually adopt European dress or a modification of it. Among the
white inhabitants the Dutch hold a predominating place, and they are
said to outnumber the English; they are the descendants of the original
settlers at the Cape something more than two hundred years ago. They
observe their individuality and have an important voice in the local
affairs of the colony; but whenever the English authorities have their
mind made up to pursue a certain policy, whether it be for the
construction of railways in the interior or the building of docks or
breakwaters in the harbor of Cape Town, they generally do pretty much as
they please.

"I observed that the people on the streets seem to take things easily
and move about with quite a languid air. This was the case with white
and colored people alike; probably the Dutch settlers set the example
years and years ago, and the others have followed it. Harry thinks that
it is the heat of the place which causes everybody to move about slowly.
Some one has remarked that only dogs and strangers walk rapidly; in Cape
Town the only people whom I saw walking fast were some of our
fellow-passengers from the steamer. I actually did see a negro running,
but the fact is, that another negro with a big stick was running after
him. As for the dogs, they seemed just as quiet as their masters.

"We inquired for the best hotel in Cape Town, and were taken to the one
indicated as such. Harry says he thinks the driver made a mistake and
took us to the worst; and Dr. Whitney remarks that if this is the best,
he doesn't want to travel through the street where the worst one
stands. We have made some inquiries since coming to this house, and
find that it is really the best, or perhaps I ought to say the least
bad, in the place. The table is poor, the beds lumpy and musty, and
nearly every window has a broken pane or two, while the drainage is
atrocious.

"We are told that the hotels all through South Africa are of the same
sort, and the only thing about them that is first class is the price
which one pays for accommodation. The hotel is well filled, the greater
part of the passengers from our steamer having come here; but I suppose
the number will dwindle down considerably in the next two or three days,
as the people scatter in the directions whither they are bound. Most
people come to Cape Town in order to leave it.

"And this reminds me that there are several railways branching out from
Cape Town. There is a line twelve hundred miles long to Johannisburg in
the Transvaal Republic, and there are several other lines of lesser
length. The colonial government has been very liberal in making grants
for railways, and thus developing the business of the colony. Every year
sees new lines undertaken, or old ones extended, and it will not be very
long before the iron horse goes pretty nearly everywhere over the length
and breadth of South Africa.

"We have driven along the principal streets of the city, and admired the
public buildings, which are both numerous and handsome. We took a
magnificent drive around the mountain to the rear of the city, where
there are some very picturesque views. In some places the edge of the
road is cut directly into the mountain side, and we looked almost
perpendicularly down for five or six hundred feet, to where the waters
of the Atlantic were washing the base of the rocks. From the mountain
back of Cape Town, there is a fine picture of the city harbor and lying
almost at one's feet; the city, with its rows and clusters of buildings
glistening in the sunlight, and the bright harbor, with its docks,
breakwaters, and forest of masts in full view of the spectator. From
this point we could see better than while in the harbor itself, the
advantages of the new breakwater. It seems that the harbor is exposed to
southeast winds, which are the prevailing ones here. When the wind
freshens into a gale, the position of the ships at anchor in the harbor
is a dangerous one, and the breakwaters have been constructed so as to
obviate this danger. When they are completed, the harbor will be fairly
well landlocked, and ships may anchor in Table Bay, and their masters
feel a sense of security against being driven on shore."




CHAPTER II.

THE CAPE OF GOOD HOPE--THE SOUTHERN OCEAN--AUSTRALIA.


"Would you like to visit an ostrich farm?" said Dr. Whitney, while our
friends were at breakfast, on the second morning after their arrival at
Cape Town.

"I would, for one," said Harry; to which Ned replied, "and so would I."

"Very well," continued the doctor. "I have an invitation to visit an
ostrich establishment, and we will start immediately after breakfast.
The railway will take us within about three miles of the farm, and the
gentleman who has given me the invitation, and included you in it, will
accompany us on the train, and his carriage will meet us at the
station."

"That is capital!" exclaimed Harry. "He will be sure to give us a great
deal of information on the subject while we are on the train, so that we
can see the farm more intelligently than would otherwise be the case."

"Yes, that is so," echoed Ned, "and as he is the proprietor of the
establishment, he will certainly know all about the business."

At the appointed time the party assembled at the railway station in Cape
Town, and when the train was ready, our friends, accompanied by their
host, Mr. Shaffner, took their places and were soon whirling away
towards their destination. For a part of the way the train wound among
hills and low mountains, and for another it stretched away across the
level or slightly undulating plain. Mr. Shaffner entered at once upon
the subject of ostriches, and as he began his conversation, Harry asked
him if he had any objections to their taking notes of what he said.

"Not in the least," was the reply; "you are welcome to take all the
notes you like, and if there is any point that I don't explain fully to
your satisfaction, please tell me, and I will be more explicit."

The youths thanked him for his courtesy, and immediately brought out
their notebooks and pencils.

"According to tradition," said Mr. Shaffner, "ostriches were formerly
very abundant, wild ones, I mean, all over this part of the country. In
the early part of this century they were so numerous in the neighborhood
of Cape Town, that a man could hardly walk a quarter of an hour without
seeing one or more of these birds. As late as 1858, a flock of twenty or
thirty were seen among hills about twenty miles from Cape Town, but
after that time they seemed to have disappeared almost entirely. Ostrich
farming is an enterprise of the past twenty years, and before it began,
the only way of procuring ostrich feathers was by hunting down and
killing the wild birds. The practise was cruel, and it was also the
reverse of economical. Thoughtful hunters realized this, and a rumor
went through the colony that ostriches had been domesticated in Algeria,
and were successfully raised for the production of feathers. When this
rumor or report went about, it naturally set some of us thinking, and
our thoughts were, 'Why can't ostriches be raised here, as well as in
Algeria?' Several enterprising men proceeded to make experiments. They
offered to pay a high price for live birds in good health and condition,
and the price they offered induced the natives to set about catching
them.

"Of course we were all in the dark as to the proper method of taking
care of ostriches, as the business was entirely new to all of us. We
made many mistakes and lost a good many birds. The eggs became addled
and worthless, and for the first two or three years it looked as though
the experiments would be a failure. Our greatest difficulty was in
finding proper food for the birds. We tried them with various kinds of
grasses, and we studied as well as we could the habits of the wild bird
at home. We found that they needed a certain quantity of alkalies, and
they subsisted largely upon the sweet grasses, wherever they could find
them. The grass called lucerne seems the best adapted to them, and you
will find it grown on all ostrich farms for the special purpose of
feeding the birds.

"We have got the business down so fine now that we understand all the
various processes of breeding, rearing, herding, feeding, plucking, and
sorting. We buy and sell ostriches just as we do sheep. We fence in our
flocks, stable them, grow crops for them, study their habits, and cut
their feathers as matters of business. We don't send the eggs to market
along with our butter and cheese, as they are altogether too dear for
consumption. It is true that an ostrich egg will make a meal for three
or four persons; but at five dollars an egg, which is the usual price,
the meal would be a dear one.

"In fact, the eggs are so precious," he continued, "that we don't allow
them to be hatched out by the birds. For fear of accidents, as soon as
the eggs have been laid they are taken from the nests and placed in a
patent incubator to be hatched out. The incubator makes fewer mistakes
than the parent ostriches do. That is to say, if you entrust a given
number of eggs to the birds to be hatched out in the natural way, and
place the same number in an incubator, you will get a considerably
larger proportion of chicks from the latter than from the former.

"The business of ostrich farming," Mr. Shaffner went on to say, "is
spread over the colony from the near neighborhood of Cape Town to the
eastern frontier, and from Albany to the Orange River. Ostrich farms
were scattered at no great distances apart, and some of the proprietors
had a high reputation for their success. He said it must not be
understood that ostrich farming was the great industry of the country;
on the contrary, the product of wool was far greater in value than that
of feathers, and the ostriches were to the sheep as one is to a
thousand."

Harry asked if the birds were allowed to run at large, or were kept
constantly in enclosures.

"Both plans are followed," said Mr. Shaffner, "and some of the farmers
allow their flocks to run at large, feeding them once a day on grain,
for which they must come to the home stable. The ostriches know the hour
of feeding as well as if they carried watches, and are promptly on hand
when their dinner time arrives. In this way they are kept under
domestication and accustomed to the presence of men, but occasionally
they stray away and disappear. The safer way is to keep a native boy or
man constantly with each herd of ostriches, and the herder is held
responsible for the loss of any bird.

"Even then the flock may sometimes be frightened and scattered beyond
the ability of the herder to bring the birds together. On my farm, I
have the ground fenced off into fifty-acre lots. I divide my birds into
flocks of twenty-five or thirty, and put them successively in the
different lots of land. I sow the ground with lucerne, and do not turn a
flock into a field or paddock until the grass is in good condition for
the birds to eat.

"You may put it down as a rule on ostrich farms, that plenty of space
and a good fence are essential to success. In every paddock you must
have a good shed, where the birds can take shelter when it rains. You
must also have a kraal or yard in each paddock, where you can drive the
birds whenever you want to select some of them for cutting their
feathers. It is proper to say, however, that a kraal in each paddock is
not necessary, as all that work can be done at the home station, where
you have the buildings for artificial hatching and for gathering the
feathers."

Ned asked what kind of ground was best suited for the ostrich.

"You must have ground where the soil and plants are rich in alkalies,"
replied Mr. Shaffner, "and when this is not the case, care must be taken
to supply the needful element. Before this matter was understood there
was some melancholy failures in the business. A friend of mine started
an ostrich farm on a sandstone ridge. There was no limestone on the
farm, and most of the birds died in a few months, and those that lived
laid no eggs and produced very few feathers. Limestone was carted to the
farm from a considerable distance, and the birds would not touch it.
Bones were then tried and with admirable effect. What the birds required
was phosphate of lime, and the bones gave them that. They rushed at them
with great eagerness, and as soon as they were well supplied with bones
they began to improve in health and to lay eggs. On farms like the one I
mentioned, a quarter of a pound of sulphur and some salt is mixed with
two buckets of pulverized bones, and the birds are allowed to eat as
much of this mixture as they like. Where the rocks, grass, and soil
contain alkaline salts in abundance, the birds require very little, if
any, artificial food, and they thrive, fatten, pair, and lay eggs in the
most satisfactory manner."

"According to the story books," said Harry, "the ostrich will eat
anything. But from what you say, Mr. Shaffner, it does not seem that
that is really the case."

"The ostrich has a very good appetite, I must say," was the reply, "and
so far as green things are concerned, he will eat almost anything;
lucerne, clover, wheat, corn, cabbage leaves, fruit, grain, and garden
vegetables are all welcome, and he eats a certain quantity of crushed
limestone and bones, and generally keeps a few pebbles in his stomach to
assist him in the process of digestion. If he sees a bright sparkling
stone on the ground, he is very apt to swallow it, and that reminds me
of a little incident about two years ago. An English gentleman was
visiting my place, and while he was looking around he came close up to
the fence of a paddock containing a number of ostriches. An ostrich was
on the other side of the fence and close to it. The gentleman had a
large diamond in his shirt front, and while he was looking at the bird,
the latter, with a quick movement of his head, wrenched the stone from
its setting and swallowed it. I see that none of you wear diamonds, and
so it is not necessary for me to repeat the caution which I have ever
since given to my diamond-wearing visitors."

"What became of the diamond?" Harry asked.

"Oh! my visitor bought the bird and had it killed, in order to get the
diamond back again. He found it safe in the creature's stomach, along
with several small stones. It was a particularly valuable gem, and the
gentleman had no idea of allowing the bird to keep it."

Ned wanted to know if ostriches lived in flocks like barnyard fowls, or
divided off into pairs like the majority of forest and field birds.

"That depends a great deal upon the farmer," Mr. Shaffner answered. "The
pairing season is in the month of July, which is equivalent to the
English January. Some farmers, when the pairing time approaches, put a
male and female bird together in a pen; some put two females with a
male, and very often a male bird has five hens in his family. The birds
run in pairs or flocks, as the case may be. In August, the hens begin to
lay, and continue to deposit eggs for a period of six weeks. They do not
lay every day, like domestic fowls, but every second or third day. As I
have already told you, the eggs are taken as soon as laid and hatched
in an incubator. Sixteen birds out of twenty eggs is considered a very
fair proportion, while, if the bird is allowed to sit on the eggs, we
are not likely to get more than twelve out of twenty. There is another
advantage in hatching eggs by the incubator process, and that is, that
when the eggs are taken away the hen proceeds a few weeks later to lay
another batch of eggs, which she does not do if she has a family to care
for."

"What do you do with the young birds when they are hatched?"

"We put them in a warm room," was the reply, "and at night they are put
in a box lined with wool; they are fed with chopped grass suitable to
them, and as soon as they are able to run about they are entrusted to
the care of a small boy, a Kaffir or Hottentot, to whom they get
strongly attached. They grow quite rapidly and begin to feather at eight
months after hatching, but the yield at that time is of very little
value. Eight months later there is another and better crop, and then at
each season the crop improves until the birds are four or five years
old, when it reaches its maximum condition. Exactly how long an ostrich
will live, I don't know. There are some birds here in South Africa that
are twenty years old, and they are strong and healthy yet."

Conversation ran on in various ways until the station was reached where
our friends were to leave the train. The carriage was waiting for them,
and the party drove at once to the farm, where Mr. Shaffner showed them
about the place, and called attention to the flocks of birds straying
about the different paddocks. It so happened that a flock had been
driven up that very morning for the purpose of cutting such of the
feathers as were in proper condition to be removed from the birds.

While the men were driving the birds into the kraal, Mr. Shaffner
explained that there was a difference of opinion among farmers as to
whether the feathers should be plucked or cut. He said that when the
feather is plucked or pulled out at the roots it is apt to make a bad
sore, and at any rate cause a great deal of pain; while the feather that
grows in its place is apt to be twisted or of poor quality, and
occasionally the birds die, as a result of the operation. When a feather
is nipped off with pincers or cut with a knife the bird is quite
insensible to the operation. The stumps that are left in the flesh of
the ostrich fall out in the course of a month or six weeks, or can be
easily drawn out, and then a new and good feather grows in place of the
old one. The reason why plucking still finds advocates is that the
feathers with the entire quill bring a higher price in the market than
those that have been cut or nipped.

Harry and Ned watched with much interest the process of removing
feathers from the birds. Here is the way Harry describes it.

"The men moved around among the ostriches in a perfectly easy way, and
seemed to be on the best of terms with their charges. The foreman
selected a bird and indicated to one of the men that he wanted it
brought forward. Thereupon the man seized the bird by the neck and
pressed its head downward until he could draw a sack like a long and
very large stocking over it.

"When blindfolded in this way the ostrich is perfectly helpless, and
will stand perfectly still. The man pushed and led the bird up to the
fence, and then the foreman, armed with his cutting nippers, selected
the feathers that he wanted and cut them off. When the operation was
ended the sack was removed, and the ostrich resumed his place among his
companions. He did not strike, or kick, or indicate in any way that he
was aware of what had happened to him.

"During their breeding time the male ostriches are decidedly vicious,
and it is dangerous to go near them. Mr. Shaffner told us that several
serious accidents had happened to his men at such times. Occasionally a
bird shows more or less ugliness on being driven into a kraal, and when
this is the case caution must be used in approaching him. The ostrich's
favorite mode of fighting is to strike or kick with one leg, and he can
give a terrible blow in this way.

"I asked Mr. Shaffner," said Harry, "what was the value of a good
ostrich. He replied that the question was one he could not answer in a
single phrase. He said that an egg was worth not less than five dollars,
and an ostrich chick, fresh from the egg, was worth twenty-five dollars.

"After a few months it was double that value, and by the time it was a
year old it was worth two hundred and fifty dollars. Mr. Shaffner said
he would be unwilling to sell a pair of hens and a male ostrich for less
than two thousand dollars, but he explained that a great deal depended
upon the breeding and feather-producing qualities of the birds.

"Then, I asked," continued Harry, "about the yield of feathers, and was
told that the average yield was about fifty dollars annually to a good
bird. The feathers ripen at the time of incubation and are injured by
the process, so that the artificial incubator, by releasing the birds
from duty on the nest, is of special value.

"I remarked," said Harry, "that, considering the increase in the flocks
and the money obtained from the feathers, ostrich farming ought to be
very profitable."

"Well, it is profitable in a general way," replied Mr. Shaffner, "but
that is not by any means the rule. There are farmers who have never made
anything by it, and it has its drawbacks, like everything else. The
birds are subject to diseases of various kinds, and there is a parasitic
worm on some farms that is very destructive. Wild beasts kill the birds,
and I myself have lost three fine ostriches this year in that way. I
know one farm on which eighty-five birds were originally placed. In the
very first year twenty-seven were lost, thirteen by cold and wet, three
by diphtheria, six killed by natives, three by fighting, and two by
falling into holes. Out of sixty eggs, nineteen were destroyed by crows.
These birds would take stones in their claws, fly to a point directly
over the nest, and then let the stones fall on the eggs, thus breaking
them, so that they could get at the contents of the shells. The
remaining eggs were sent to a neighboring farm to be artificially
incubated, but only ten of them hatched out. So, you see," the gentleman
continued, "ostrich farming has its hard times, like everything else."

After inspecting the ostrich farm our friends were entertained at a
substantial dinner in the house of their host, and in the afternoon were
driven to the railway station, whence they returned to Cape Town, having
well enjoyed their first excursion.

That evening Dr. Whitney received an invitation to visit a large sheep
farm about thirty miles from Cape Town, accompanied, as before, by his
two nephews. He accepted the invitation, and the trio took an early
train for their destination. They were met at the station by the owner
of the establishment, and were speedily shown through the entire place.
Sheep farming was less a novelty to our young friends than ostrich
farming, and consequently they had much less interest in seeing the
sights of the establishment. Harry wrote a brief account of their visit,
and we are permitted to copy from it.

"Evidently the place was prosperous," said Harry, in his journal, "as we
found an abundance of substantial buildings, a luxurious house for the
owner, and substantial dwellings for the manager and his assistant. We
sat down to an excellent, though somewhat late breakfast. We had a good
appetite for it, as we had breakfasted very lightly before leaving Cape
Town. On the table we had broiled chickens, broiled ham, and lamb chops,
together with eggs, bread, and the usual concomitants of the morning
meal.

"After breakfast we visited the sheds where the sheep are sheared, and
also the surrounding sheds and yards where the animals are driven up at
shearing time. We were sorry that it was not the time of the annual
shearing, so that we could witness the process. Our host told us that
the shearers travel about the country, and take contracts for shearing
the flocks at so much a head. In addition to their wages, they were
supplied with food, and he added that the shearers were a fastidious
lot, and nothing but the best table would suit them.

"After inspecting the buildings, we were supplied with saddle horses and
rode over the farm. The sheep are divided into flocks of about three
hundred each, and every flock is in charge of two herders or shepherds.
Some of them come into the home stations at night, while others have
separate out stations of their own. The herders are either Hottentots or
Kaffirs; at any rate they are negroes. The two of them start out in the
morning with the flock, and go slowly along, allowing the sheep to feed,
and calculating time and distance so that they will reach a watering
place about noon. There the sheep are watered and then they start back
again towards the station, where they arrive an hour or so before
sunset, and are shut up in a yard for the night.

"The shepherds do their own cooking, and once a week one of them comes
to the head station to be supplied with provisions. Our host explained
to us that one shepherd was sufficient for a flock, but the life was so
lonely that a man would not stick to it, if left alone, and they had to
have two men in order to keep each other company. I can well understand
how wearisome it would be to have nobody to speak to for days at a time,
and one of the last occupations I would wish to engage in is that of
shepherd.

"Wool raising is a very large industry in Cape Colony, and it certainly
has been a very profitable one. Our host told us that if a man could
avoid accidents and misfortunes, he would find the business very
remunerative; but, of course, misfortunes are pretty sure to come. He
told us further, that nearly all the sheep farmers of South Africa had
started into the business as poor men, and, while none of them were
millionaires, there were some that were very near being so. He gave some
statistics of the wool trade, but I have mislaid the sheet of paper
containing them, and so cannot give them to you."

On their return from the excursion to the sheep farm, our friends
learned that a steamer of the Orient line had just arrived, and would
leave at noon the next day for Australia. Dr. Whitney decided to take
passage on this steamer, and the matter was very quickly arranged.

When the great ship left the harbor of Cape Town, our friends stood on
her deck and were deeply interested in the scene about them. As they
steamed out around the breakwater, they had a fine view of Table Bay and
the mountains that surround it. Then they passed a series of cliff-like
mountains, known as the Twelve Apostles, and after them some brightly
colored mountains that had a dazzling appearance in the bright sunlight.
Thirty miles from Cape Town they passed the famous Cape of Good Hope,
which is popularly but erroneously supposed to be the southern end of
the continent; the fact is that the point of Africa nearest to the South
Pole is Cape Agulhas, sixty or seventy miles away from the Cape of Good
Hope.

Down to Cape Agulhas the steamer had followed the coast line. Now it
steered away from the coast, and gradually the mountains of the
southern end of Africa faded and became dim in the distance, and
gradually disappeared altogether from sight. Our friends were now upon
the great Southern Ocean, which sweeps entirely around this part of the
globe.

"We have a long voyage before us now," said Harry to Ned; "we have
sixteen days of steaming, so one of the officers tells me, before we
reach the coast of Australia."

"Well, if that is the case," Ned answered, "we have plenty of time to
become acquainted with the Southern Ocean. I wonder if it will be very
different from the Atlantic."

"As to that," replied Harry, "I don't know, but I have no doubt it has
peculiarities of its own. We will see about that later."

Flocks of birds accompanied the ship as it steamed away from the coast.
Some were familiar sights to our young friends, and some were new to
them, or comparatively so. The next day and the few succeeding days made
them acquainted with several birds that they had never seen, and the
boys were so interested in them that Harry wrote a description, which we
will presently consider. But before doing so, however, we will look at a
note which Ned made concerning the waves of the Southern Ocean.

"The waves of this part of the boundless waste of waters that covers
three fourths of the globe," said Ned, in his journal, "are the largest
we have ever seen. The prevailing winds are westerly, and the captain
tells us that they drive a continuous series of waves right around the
globe. You have heard of the long swell of the Pacific, but it is not,
at least in the Northern Hemisphere, anywhere equal to the immense
swells of the Southern Ocean. I have never seen waves that began to be
as large. The captain says that the crests are often thirty feet high,
and three hundred and ninety feet apart. Sir James Ross, in his
Antartic expedition, measured waves thirty-six feet high, and said that
when two ships were in the hollows of two adjoining waves, their hulls
were completely concealed from each other by the crest of water between
them. This great steamer, measuring nearly five thousand tons, is rolled
and tossed as if it were nothing more than an egg-shell, and such of the
passengers as are liable to seasickness are staying below out of sight.
Fancy what it must be to sail on this ocean in a small craft of one
hundred or two hundred tons! I think I would prefer to be on shore."

And now we come to Harry's account of the birds. He wrote as follows:--

"Dr. Whitney says that I must make a distinction between land birds,
coast birds, and ocean birds. Land birds are only at sea by accident;
coast birds are seen only in the neighborhood of the land, but ocean
birds go far out at sea, and rarely visit the land except during their
breeding season. When you see a land bird out of sight of the shore, you
can know that he has been driven there by the wind; perhaps in a squall
or rain storm. The doctor tells me that we can make a general
distinction between the three kinds of birds, by remembering that the
more the bird lives on the land, the more he flaps his wings, and most
land birds flap their wings constantly. A few, like the eagle, condor,
and other birds of prey, sail about and flap their wings occasionally,
but the true ocean birds, as a rule, flap their wings very little.

"An interesting flyer that we have seen is the frigate bird, also called
the man-of-war bird, which appears to me to be a good deal of a pirate,
as it makes the most of its living by robbing others. When another bird
has caught a fish the frigate bird attacks him, and takes away his
prize, catching it in the air as it falls from the victim's claws. These
birds follow the steamer or fly in the air above it, and they seem to go
along very easily, although the ship is running at full speed. I am told
that, on the previous voyage of this ship, some of the sailors caught
two of these birds and marked them by attaching strips of white cloth to
their feet. Then the birds were set free, and they followed the steamer
four or five days without any apparent fatigue.

"Of course we have seen 'Mother Carey's Chickens.' These tireless little
fellows, that never seem to rest, are found in all parts of the world of
waters. They have been constantly about us, flying around the ship but
never settling upon it, and dipping occasionally into the waters behind
us to gather up crumbs or particles of food. The other birds, which are
all much larger, would like to deprive them of their sustenance, but
they do not have the quickness of the little flyers on the wing. When
anything is thrown overboard, they dart as quick as a flash under the
noses of the larger and more clumsy birds, and pick up a mouthful or
two before the latter can reach them. Then there are whale birds, and
cape pigeons, and also the cape dove, which is somewhat larger than the
pigeon, and is also known as the 'fulmar petrel.'

"But the most interesting as well as the largest of all the ocean birds
is the albatross. There are two or three kinds of this bird; the largest
of them has a spread of wing varying from twelve to fifteen feet, and
one has been caught measuring seventeen feet from tip to tip. With
outspread wings, his body, as he sails about in the air, looks as large
as a barrel, but when stripped of its feathers its size diminishes very
much. We offered to pay a good price to the sailors if they would catch
an albatross for us, but they declined our proposal to catch one, and
when a passenger one day wanted to shoot one which was directly over the
steamer, the sailors objected. We finally induced them to compromise the
matter by catching an albatross and letting it go unharmed.

"They baited a hook with a piece of pork which was attached to a long
line, and then allowed to tow behind the steamer. We were doomed to
disappointment, as the albatross, that was then flying with the ship,
refused to touch the bait, and it was taken up by a frigate bird. It is
said that the albatross is very difficult to catch, as he is exceedingly
wary, and constantly on the lookout for tricks. I am told that a live
albatross standing on the deck of the ship is a very handsome bird. His
back is white, his wings are brown, he has a fine head, carries himself
with great dignity, and has a grand eye and countenance. The bird has a
pink beak and pretty streaks of a rose color on the cheeks. After death
these colors disappear, and are not to be seen in the stuffed specimens
such as are found in museums. A good-sized albatross weighs about twenty
pounds, though, as before stated, he looks very much larger.

"The wonderful thing about this bird is the way he sustains himself in
the air. He sails along above the ship, though she may be steaming
fifteen or sixteen miles an hour, but he does it all with very little
motion. Three or four times in an hour he may give one or two flaps of
his wings, and that is all; the rest is all steady sailing. The
outspread wings sustain the bird, and carry him forward at the same
time. If any man ever invents a successful flying machine, I think he
will do so by studying the movements of the albatross. It is proper to
say that this bird is not at all courageous, and often gives up the fish
that he catches to the piratical frigate bird. It lives mostly on fish,
and is very fond of the carcass of a dead whale, and they tell me that
the longer the whale has been dead, the better does the albatross like
it.

"The superstition of the sailors about its being bad luck to kill an
albatross is not by any means a new one. It is referred to by old
writers, and you will find it mentioned in Coleridge's 'Ancient
Mariner.'

"We have seen a great many flying fish during our voyage, but as we have
seen them before, they are not a great curiosity. The flying motion of
this fish is more fanciful than real. He does not soar in the air like a
bird, but simply leaps from the crest of one wave to the crest of
another. He makes a single dash through the air, and that is all.
Sometimes, when a ship is in the hollow between two waves and the flying
fish is attempting to make his way across, he falls on the deck of the
vessel, but he rarely gets more than fifteen or eighteen feet into the
air, and therefore does not reach the deck of a big steamer like this.

"Flying fish seem to fly when disturbed by big fishes, or, possibly, by
the commotion that a vessel creates in going through the water. There is
a good deal of dispute as to how long the flying fish can stay out of
water, and the longest time I have heard any one give to it is thirty
seconds. Some say that the flying fish can stay in the air only while
its wings are wet, but that is a point on which I do not care to give
any opinion, for the simple reason that I don't know."

Ned and Harry had kept the nautical instruments which they carried over
the deserts of Northern Africa, and they amused themselves by taking
daily observations and calculating the ship's position. Sometimes they
were wrong, and sometimes they were right, Ned naively remarking that
"the wrongs didn't count." The first officer of the ship gave them some
assistance in their nautical observations, and, altogether, they got
along very well.

Our friends made the acquaintance of some of their fellow-passengers and
found them very agreeable. The majority were residents of Australia or
New Zealand, who had been on visits to England and were now returning
home. The youths learned a great deal concerning the country whither
they were bound, and the goodly portion of the information they received
was of practical value to them. They made copious notes of what they
heard, and some of the information that they gleaned will appear later
in these pages.

In due time they sighted the coast of Australia at its western
extremity, known as Cape Leeuwin, but the sight was not especially
picturesque, as the mountains around the cape are of no great height.
After passing Cape Leeuwin, the steamer held her course steadily to the
west, gradually leaving the shore out of sight. She was passing along
the front of what is called the Great Australian Bight, an indentation
in the land twelve hundred miles long, and bounded on the north by a
region of desolation.

"It is a desolate coast," said one of the passengers to Harry, "and is
so destitute of water that no settlements have or can be made upon it.
Mr. Eyre, who was afterwards governor of Jamaica, endeavored to explore
that coast, and had a terrible time of it. He was an entire year making
the journey of twelve hundred miles, and suffered the most terrible
hardships."




CHAPTER III.

A LAND OF CONTRADICTIONS--TRANSPORTATION TO AUSTRALIA.


"How long is it since Mr. Eyre made this journey?" Harry asked.

"It was a good while ago," the gentleman answered, "in the years 1839
and 1840. Mr. Eyre had explored a portion of the western shore of
Spencer Gulf, and while doing so, determined to make the attempt to
travel along the shore of the Great Australian Bight. One of the first
difficulties that opposed him was the scarcity of fresh water. There
were numerous gullies, showing that in times of rain there was plenty of
water, but no rain had fallen for a long time and all these gullies were
dry. A few springs were found, but these were generally brackish and the
water was hardly drinkable.

"Mr. Eyre tried the experiment of sinking a cask in the ground, near the
edge of the sea, in the hope of obtaining fresh water, but his
experiments in this direction were not successful. By the time he had
advanced two hundred miles, he had lost four of his horses. The
reduction in the number of his pack animals made it impossible for him
to carry sufficient provisions for his party, and he therefore sent back
his only white companion and three of his men. Then he continued his
journey with his overseer and three natives, one of the latter being his
personal servant.

"In order to be sure of water, Mr. Eyre explored in advance of the
party, and sometimes was gone four or five days before finding any. One
by one the horses died of thirst, and the only way the men could keep
alive was by gathering the dew, which fell at night, by means of sponges
and rags.

"The natives complained at their hardships, and one night the two men
took possession of the guns, killed the overseer, and ran away, leaving
Mr. Eyre with only his native servant and a very small stock of
provisions. They were then about midway on the journey; that is, they
had still six hundred miles to travel to reach the settled parts of West
Australia. The entire supply of provisions that they had was four
gallons of water, forty pounds of flour, and a portion of a dead horse.
They had to go nearly two hundred miles before finding any more water,
and lived on horse-flesh, with occasional game and fish, and a little
flour paste. Just as they were about to lie down and die in the desert
they saw a sail in the distance.

"They built a fire on the beach as a signal, and, luckily for them, it
was observed. The vessel came in quite near the land and sent a boat to
their assistance. The ship proved to be an American whaler that was
cruising about the Australian Bight in pursuit of whales, and the
captain invited them to stay on board as long as they liked. They
remained there two weeks, and were then put ashore at the same spot
whence they had gone on board. The captain supplied them with all the
provisions and water they could carry. Mr. Eyre was determined to
complete his journey, if possible, and his faithful servant consented to
remain with him. They struggled on for two or three weeks longer, when
they reached the first of the settlements on King George's Sound."

"Has anybody else ever tried to make the same journey?" Harry asked.

"Not under the same circumstances," was the reply. "I believe that a
well-equipped exploring party was sent out some twelve or fifteen years
ago, to travel along the coast and look for gold. Water and provisions
were supplied every few days by a small steamer that kept near the shore
and went in when signaled by the travelers. In this way, suffering from
hunger and thirst was avoided and the animals of the expedition were
well supplied with forage. The enterprise was not a successful one so
far as the finding of gold was concerned, but I have little doubt that
one of these days gold will be discovered there; and if it should be,
some way will be found for softening the asperities of this desolate
coast."

"I have heard," said Harry, "that a great part of Australia is destitute
of water. Is that really the case?"

"Yes," the gentleman answered; "you have been correctly informed.
Australia, is a waterless country, or, at any rate, that is the case
with a great part of it. The interior has never been fully explored for
this reason, and there are thousands, I might say millions, of square
miles of Australian country where no human foot has ever trod. Many
attempts have been made to penetrate this desolate region, but all have
resulted in failure.

"Water, as you know, is an absolute necessity for man and animals, and
there is a limit to the amount which an expedition can carry, just as
there is a limit to the food that one may take on a journey. There are
parts of Australia where rain seems never to fall, or, if it does, the
intervals are so rare and irregular that no reliance can be placed on
them. Explorers cannot stop to dig wells hundreds of feet in depth, and
it is certain that no ordinary amount of digging will procure water. The
atmosphere is dry, terribly dry, as all who have attempted to penetrate
into the interior will tell you.

"Instruments, and cases made of the best seasoned wood--wood that has
been dried for years and years--crack and split and go to pieces in the
dry atmosphere of the interior of Australia. Leather becomes brittle,
and cracks and breaks when the slightest pressure is put upon it. One
exploring expedition was obliged to turn back in consequence of the
drying up and cracking of the wood contained in its instruments and
their cases. The evaporation from one's skin is very rapid under such
circumstances, and produces an agonizing thirst, which is no doubt
intensified by the knowledge of the scarcity of water and the necessity
of using the supply on hand with great care."

"I have heard," said Ned, "that Australia is a land of contradictions as
compared with England and the United States. I read in a book somewhere
that nearly everything in nature was the reverse of what it was in the
countries I mentioned."

"That is true," said the gentleman with whom they were conversing, "and
I will tell you several things to demonstrate the correctness of what
you say. In the first place Australia is on the other side of the world
from England and the United States, and that circumstance ought to
prepare you for the other peculiarities. Most countries are fertile in
their interior; but, as I have told you, the interior of Australia is a
land of desolation, where neither man nor beast can live. I have been
told that birds never fly in the interior of Australia; and certainly if
I were a bird, I would not fly there nor anywhere near it.

"We have very few rivers, and none of them come from far in the
interior. Most of them are low in summer or altogether dried up. There
is only one river, the Murray, that can be relied upon to have any
reasonable depth of water in it throughout the entire year. The other
rivers dwindle almost to nothing, and, as I have said, entirely
disappear. The greater part of the country is absolutely without trees,
and the dense forests which you have in America are practically unknown.
We have summer when you have winter, and we have night when you have
day. When you are in your own country, and I am here, our feet are
nearer together than our heads; that is to say, our feet are pressing
the ground on opposite sides of the earth, and so we may be said to be
standing upon each other."

"That is so," remarked Harry; "I was thinking of that this morning. I
noticed also that the ship's compass pointed to the south, and that the
sun was traveling along the northern heavens. I observed, too, that the
south wind was cold, and the north wind hot."

"You are quite right," said the gentleman; "and if you have been
studying the barometer, you have found that it falls with the northerly
wind and rises with the southerly one. When you travel over the country,
you will find that the valleys are cool and the mountain tops warm. The
bees have no sting, and many of the beautiful flowers have no smell. The
leaves of the trees are nearly always perpendicular instead of
horizontal, as in your country, and consequently one gets very little
shade under an Australian tree."

"I have heard," said Ned, "that the trees shed their bark instead of
their leaves. Is that really so?"

"It is so with most of the trees," was the reply; "in fact, with nearly
all of them. A few shed their leaves every year, and on many of the
trees the leaves remain unchanged, while the bark is thrown off. One
tree is called the stringy bark, on account of the ragged appearance of
its covering at the time it is shed.

"In your part of the world," the gentleman continued, "cherries grow
with the stones inside; but here in Australia we have cherries with the
stones on the outside. We have birds of beautiful plumage and very
little song; the owls are quiet at night, and screech and hoot in the
daytime, which certainly is not a characteristic of the English or
American owl. The geological formation of the country is also peculiar,
and the scientific men who have come here from England and America are a
good deal puzzled at the state of affairs they find in Australia. Would
it not surprise you to learn that we have coal in this country as white
as chalk?"

"That is, indeed, a surprise," one of the youths remarked. "I wonder if
the conditions are continued so that your chalk is black."

"The contrasts do not go quite so far as that," said the gentleman, with
a laugh, "as the chalk of Australia is as white as that of England. I
don't mean to say that all our coal is white, but only the coal of
certain localities. It generally takes the stranger by surprise to see a
grateful of white coal burning brightly, and throwing out smoke at the
same time. I must tell you that this coal is bituminous, and not
anthracite."

"I hope," said Ned, "that men's heads do not grow out of their sides, or
from their breasts, and that they do not walk topsy-turvy, with their
feet in the air."

"No, they are not as bad as that," was the reply; "but you will see some
queer things before you are through with Australia. Bear in mind that
the country contains no antiquities of any kind; it is a new land in
every sense, as it was first settled in 1788, and all these cities are
of modern foundation and growth."

Our young friends thanked the gentleman for the information he had given
them, and said they would specially bear in mind the comparisons and
contrasts which he had indicated in their brief conversation.

The first stopping place of the ship was at Adelaide, in South
Australia, from which place she proceeded around the coast to Melbourne.
Our friends decided to land at Adelaide, and go overland through that
city wherever the railway would take them. They thought that by so doing
they would be able to see a great deal more on their way to Melbourne
than if they continued aboard the ship.

Harry had obtained a map of Australia on the day before their arrival
at Adelaide. He was busily engaged in studying it.

"Just look a moment," said Harry to Ned, as he spread the map out on one
of the tables in the saloon; "here is another contradiction that our
friend didn't include. Look at it."

"Well, what of it?" said Ned. "It is a map of Australia, is it not?"

"Yes, it is, and just look at the provinces or colonies of Australia.
Here is West Australia, as its name indicates, at the western end of the
great island or continent. Here are Queensland, New South Wales, and
Victoria, and here is South Australia, where we are going to land.
Adelaide is its capital."

"Well, what of it?" queried Ned, with an expression of curiosity on his
face.

"Why, don't you see," said Harry, in a tone of impatience, "that South
Australia is not South Australia at all. Here is Victoria, which runs
further south than this colony, and then you see South Australia runs
clear across the continent to the northern side, and almost as far north
as the extreme point of Queensland. They ought to change the name of it,
or else divide it into two colonies, calling this one by its present
name, and the other North Australia."

Ned admitted the force of the argument, and then joined his cousin in
studying the map. Strange to say, the middle section or unexplored
region had a singular fascination for both the youths, and each confided
to the other that he would like to undertake the exploration of that
part of the continent. They wondered whether Dr. Whitney would entertain
their proposal to do so, but finally concluded that the hardships would
be too great, and they would say nothing about their aspirations.

[Illustration: "HARRY HAD OBTAINED A MAP OF AUSTRALIA."]

In due time the steamer came to anchor at Port Adelaide. The harbor of
the capital city is not on the sea, but seven miles away from it, on the
banks of the small river Torrens. The railway connects the port with the
city, and shortly after getting ashore our friends were seated in a
train, which carried them quickly to the capital. One of the passengers
told Ned that the port was formerly quite shallow and difficult to
enter. The entrance at present is between two large shoals of sand,
which are marked by lighthouses. A great deal of money has been expended
in deepening and widening the harbor, so that it is now accessible for
large ships.

A long pier extends into St. Vincent's Gulf, the body of water on which
the port stands, and this pier is quite popular as a promenade for the
people living at the port, and also for those who come down from the
city.

Harry observed that the dock and pier accommodations were excellent.
There were immense sheds, and warehouses for the storage of grain, wool,
and other products of the country while awaiting shipment, and equally
extensive shelters for merchandise arriving at the port on its way to
the city and to other parts of the colony. There were dry docks and
repairing yards, and there were hospitals for sick sailors and others,
together with the usual public buildings of a prosperous seaport.
Immense quantities of wool and frozen meat are shipped from this port
to England, and the trade of the colony with the mother country is said
to be increasing every year.

It was about the middle of the afternoon when our friends landed, and in
less than half an hour after landing they were in the city. One of their
steamer acquaintances had directed them to a hotel, and, in fact,
accompanied them to it, so that they had the advantage of his personal
guidance and introduction. Harry made a memorandum in his notebook that
they found the hotel quite a good one, certainly much better than the
hotel where they stopped at Cape Town.

After settling themselves in the hotel the party went out for a stroll,
but, in consequence of the heat, they were not long in turning their
stroll into a drive. Here is what Ned says of their first day in
Adelaide:--

"This city recalls Chicago more than any other place I can think of. It
is on a level plain, with the exception of the portion to the north
where the ground rises a little, and the streets are laid out at right
angles, as though a chess-board had been taken as a model for the place.
We have wondered why it was called Adelaide instead of Mary Ann, Betsy,
or some other feminine name; Dr. Whitney has just told us that the city
was laid out in 1837 and named in honor of the queen of King William
IV., who was then the ruler of England.

"Having named the place in honor of the queen, the founders of the city
felt that the next thing to do was to call the principal street after
the king. Thus it happens that the great street, the one most built
upon, and where the majority of the shops are concentrated, is King
William Street. It is a broad avenue running from south to north, and
divides the city almost equally. It is certainly a very handsome avenue,
and we greatly enjoyed our drive upon it. Most of the public buildings,
the town hall, post-office, government offices, and the like, are on
King William Street, and they are very handsome structures.

"The people are very proud of these edifices, and well they may be, as
they would be ornaments to any city ten times as old and large as
Adelaide. The principal banks, newspaper offices, and business
structures generally are also on King William Street, and to judge by
the crowds of people that throng the sidewalks, one might conclude that
the population was a busy one. One thing that attracted our attention
was the great number of churches, which certainly gave us the impression
that the population of Adelaide is decidedly religious, and also that
its zeal in religion had led it to contribute freely to the erection of
places of worship. Our driver pointed out the various churches and told
us their denomination. Of course the Church of England was ahead of the
others, as is expected to be the case in a British colony."

"I learned afterwards," said Ned, "that there were nearly one thousand
churches and chapels in the colony of South Australia, together with
nearly five hundred other buildings that are occasionally used for
religious worship. All the churches are supported by voluntary
contributions, there being no State aid to any of them. At the last
census of the colony there were 76,000 adherents of the Church of
England, 43,000 Roman Catholics, and 42,000 Methodists. Then came the
Lutherans, with 20,000; Presbyterians, with 18,000; Baptists, with
14,000; and about 10,000 each of primitive Methodists, Congregationalists,
and Bible Christians. There were several other denominations, but their
numbers were insignificant. We looked for pagodas while driving along
the street, but none of them were to be found, and we learned on inquiry
that the number of Chinese and Moslems in South Australia was hardly
worth mentioning. The colony has never been attractive to the Chinese,
and few of them have endeavored to find homes there.

"We drove to the resident portion of the city and saw a goodly number of
private houses of the better sort. A great deal of taste has been
displayed in the construction of these houses, and we derived the
impression that Adelaide was a decidedly prosperous city. The
wheat-growing industry of South Australia is a very large one. Many of
the great farmers have their residences in Adelaide and spend only a
small portion of their time on their farms, leaving all details to their
managers. A considerable amount of American farming machinery finds its
way to South Australia, where it has attained a well-deserved
popularity."

While our friends were at breakfast the next morning, Harry suggested
that if the others were willing, he would like to see one of the
Australian prisons containing convicts that had been transported from
England.

The doctor smiled,--just a faint smile,--while Ned laughed.

"Oh, you are all wrong, Harry," said Ned. "They gave up that business
long ago. I was under the same impression that you are, but learned
better from one of our fellow-passengers. I meant to tell you about it."

"Well, I will acknowledge my mistake," said Harry. "We are all liable to
make blunders, and that is one of them."

"Quite true," Dr. Whitney remarked. "Every visitor to a country that is
strange to him makes a great many mistakes, and the frank thing is to
acknowledge it."

"The gentleman who corrected my blunder," said Ned, "told me that an
American visitor who was very fond of hunting landed once in Sydney,
fresh from the United States. The hunting fever was strong in him, and
before he was an hour on shore he asked the clerk of the hotel where he
could go to shoot Sydney ducks. He had heard of them, and would like to
bag a few brace."

"What is the point of the joke?" said Harry; "I confess I cannot see
it."

"That is exactly what I said to my informant," replied Ned, "and then he
went on and told me that in former times Australian convicts were spoken
of as Sydney ducks."

"Oh! I see," said Harry, "that is a very good joke when you come to know
all about it. What did the clerk of the hotel say to the inquiring
stranger?"

"I don't know," replied Ned, "but I presume he told him that Sydney
ducks had gone out of fashion, and were not being shot any more.
Probably he let the man down as gently as possible."

"How did the convicts come to have the name of Sydney ducks?" Harry
asked.

"I can't tell you, I am sure," said Ned, "you will have to ask the
doctor about it."

"The name came, no doubt," said Dr. Whitney, "from the circumstance that
the first convicts who were brought to Australia were landed at Sydney,
and for a good many years Sydney was the principal depot of these
involuntary emigrants. The adoption of Australia as the place for
convict settlement was brought about by events in America, a statement
which may surprise you."

"It certainly is surprising," Harry remarked. "How did it happen?"

"It came about in this way," the doctor continued; "when America was
subject to England, offenders of various kinds, whether political or
criminal, were sent to the American colonies, principally to the
Southern States and the West Indies, where they were chiefly employed in
the cultivation of tobacco. The consumption of tobacco in England was
very large, and the revenue derived from it was considerable.
Consequently England was able to kill two birds with one stone; she got
rid of her criminals, at the same time, and made a large profit on their
work.

"When the American colonies revolted in 1775, and gained their
independence eight years later, England found herself deprived of a
place to which she could send her convicts, and she looked around for
another. She tried the coast of Africa, and found it too unhealthy for
her purpose. Captain Cook had recently visited Australia and given a
glowing account of it, and the government officials thought that this
new country would be an excellent one for criminals. Orders were given
for sending out a fleet of ships for that purpose; and, accordingly,
eleven vessels, carrying more than one thousand people, sailed for
Portsmouth in the month of March, 1787, with orders to proceed to
Australia."

"If England had known what was to happen," said Harry, "she need not
have been at the trouble of sending her criminals so far away; she might
have kept on with America with only slight interruptions. She is sending
us her criminals and paupers at present, though she does not designate
them properly when she ships them, and most of the continental nations
are doing the same thing. We are trying to prevent it, but I don't
believe we succeed to a very great extent."

"Did they send a thousand convicts to Australia in this first batch?"
queried Ned.

"There were about one thousand people altogether," said Dr. Whitney,
"including 757 convicts, and among the convicts were 190 women and
eighteen children. They had 160 soldiers to guard the prisoners, with a
sufficient number of officers, and forty of the soldiers were
accompanied by their wives. They had on the ships a goodly quantity of
cattle, sheep, horses, pigs, and goats, and a large quantity of seeds
from various parts of the world was sent out. It was not expected that
the colony would be self-supporting for some time, and so it was
arranged that supply ships laden with flour and other provisions should
be sent from England at regular intervals. A year or two after the
colony was founded one of these ships was wrecked on its way to
Australia, and the colonists suffered greatly for want of food. Among
the supplies taken by each ship there was usually a fresh batch of
convicts, and quite regularly convict ships were despatched from England
to Australia."

Ned remarked that he thought a convict ship would not be a pleasant
craft to travel on. A good many people did not like crossing the
Atlantic on cattle ships, but he thought the cattle ship would be far
preferable to one laden with convicts.

"And so it is," replied the doctor. "According to all accounts, the life
on board a convict ship from England to Australia was terrible. Remember
that in those days prisoners were treated with great harshness; they
were not supposed to have any feelings and were never spoken to kindly,
and in many instances an order was usually accompanied by a kick or a
blow. During the voyage the prisoners were allowed on deck one hour or
possibly two hours of each day, care being taken that only a small
number would be there at any one time.

"For the rest of the twenty-four hours they were shut up in close,
stifling pens or cages, generally with nothing but a little straw to
sleep on, and they were fed with the coarsest and poorest food. Coffee
and tea with hard bread formed their breakfast; dinner was the same,
with sometimes the addition of a piece of heavily salted beef, so hard
that it was no easy matter to cut it into mouthfuls. Supper was the same
as breakfast, and this was kept up with hardly any variation.

"The slightest infraction of the rules was punished with the lash, but
this did not deter the criminals from making trouble. Constantly the
boatswain and his assistants were kept busy in performing the floggings
that were ordered, and sometimes the cat-o'-nine-tails was in steady use
from sunrise to sunset. The more severe his discipline, the more highly
an officer was regarded by his superiors, and if he occasionally hanged
a few men, it rather advanced than retarded his promotion. A good many
died on the voyage from England to Australia, partly in consequence of
their scanty fare and the great heat of the tropics; but, according to
tradition, a very large proportion of the mortality was the result of
brutal treatment and privations.

"The passengers on the convict ship," said Harry, "seem to have been
treated pretty much like those on slave ships."

"You are not far wrong there," the doctor replied; "the sufferings of
convicts on their way to Australia were not altogether unlike those of
the unhappy negroes that were formerly taken from the coast of Africa to
North and South America. The convicts were not crowded quite as densely
into the holds of the ships as the slaves were, and the mortality among
them was not as great; still they were packed very thickly together, and
were treated quite as cruelly as the slave dealers used to treat their
human property. Occasionally it happened that the convicts formed a
conspiracy and endeavored to take possession of the ship. In nearly
every instance they were betrayed by one of their number, and when the
time came for action they were so closely guarded that any resistance
was useless. Then the conspirators were seized, and after a brief trial
were condemned to be hung or shot, generally the former, as it saved
ammunition and did not soil the decks of the ship with blood. When there
was an actual mutiny the mutineers were shot down without mercy, and
those who escaped the bullets were speedily disposed of by hanging at
the yard-arms."

"Terrible times those must have been," remarked Ned; "the wonder is that
anybody survived."

"Yes, indeed," said Harry; "but man has a tough constitution and can
endure a great deal."




CHAPTER IV.

STRANGE ADVENTURES--AUSTRALIAN ABORIGINALS.


One of the youths asked how the convicts were employed after they came
to Australia.

"At first," said the doctor, "they were employed almost entirely on
government works. A city was laid out, and of course it was necessary to
grade the streets, build bridges, and do other things in connection with
putting the place into shape. There were prisons, warehouses, wharves,
and other buildings necessary to a convict establishment to be erected.
Gardens and fields were to be laid out and planted, and altogether there
was no lack of work to be performed. The prisoners were required to work
under guard, and the worst of them were ornamented with ball and chain,
like the occupants of many a prison in different parts of the world.
They were treated just as rigorously as they had been on board the ships
that brought them out. Their lodgings were somewhat more spacious, but
by no stretch of fancy could they be called luxurious. The supply of
food in the colony was not large, and the fare of the prisoners was
scanty.

"Free emigration to Australia began a few years after the convict
emigration, and most of the free emigrants came here with the view to
employ the convicts under contracts with the government. They were
principally men of capital, and the most of them established farms or
factories near Sydney and entered into agreements with the government
to supply them with labor. Where they were close to the city, the
convicts were sent out to their work in the morning and returned to
prison at night; but where the distance from the city was considerable,
other plans had to be followed. Sometimes soldiers were detailed to
guard the convicts at their working places, and in others the employer
himself supplied the guard. The convicts were also made to understand
very clearly that if they ran away they would be caught and severely
punished.

"I should think they would run away in spite of all these threats,
especially where their sentences were for long terms," Harry remarked.

"It was not so easy as it may seem for anybody to escape," said the
doctor. "A man could not stay around the colony more than a day or two,
or a few days at the farthest, without being discovered, and when found
he was sure to be severely flogged, put on bread and water, and shut up
in a dark cell. If he escaped into the bush, he was pretty certain to
starve to death unless found by the natives, in which case he was
generally murdered. Many a convict ran away to the bush and was never
heard of. Others remained there until starvation forced them to come in
and give themselves up."

"Did the free settlers increase as fast as the convicts?"

"Yes, they increased faster as the word went out through the British
Islands that Australia offered great possibilities for emigrants. For
twenty years the military and convicts were more numerous than the free
settlers; but by the end of thirty years the latter were in the
ascendency. In the year 1830, there were twenty-seven thousand convicts
in the colony, and forty-nine thousand others.

"By 'others' I don't mean other settlers, altogether, though I do
mean free people. By that time a good many convicts had served out
their sentences and become free. They were known as 'emancipists,'
and consequently there were three kinds of people in the
colony,--emancipists, convicts, and free settlers. The free settlers
would not associate with the emancipists, and they in turn would not
associate with the convicts. The free settlers wanted the emancipists to
be deprived of all civil rights and kept practically in the same
position as the convicts. The officers of the government used to take
the side of the emancipists, and there were many bitter quarrels between
them and the free settlers in consequence."

Here the doctor paused for a moment, and then asked:--

"Did you ever read about the mutiny of the _Bounty_?"

"Oh, yes," replied Harry; "I read about it two or three years ago. The
crew of the ship _Bounty_ mutinied, and put the captain and others in an
open boat to take care of themselves the best way they could. The
_Bounty_ then cruised about the Pacific for awhile, and finally went to
Pitcairn's Island, where the mutineers landed and destroyed the ship.
Their fate was not known until nearly thirty years afterwards, when an
American ship touched at the island, and found it peopled by the
descendants of the mutineers, who had taken some women from Tahiti to
become their wives. Only one of those concerned in the mutiny was then
alive. The captain and his companions in the open boat made a voyage of
four thousand miles, enduring great hardships, and eventually reached
the Dutch settlements in the island of Timor."

"A very good account for a brief one," said the doctor. "Do you remember
the name of the _Bounty's_ commander?"

"Yes," replied Harry. "I believe it was Bligh; in fact, I am sure of
it."

"Well, that same Captain Bligh was one of the early governors of New
South Wales, as the colony was then called. He caused the mutiny on the
_Bounty_ by want of tact and by undue severity, and the same spirit that
he showed on the deck of his ship caused a rebellion in New South Wales.
Of course, the convicts had no influence or part in the rebellion, but
the free settlers were very active in it, and so were a good many of the
officers. Bligh caused himself to be thoroughly disliked by interfering
with local trade, and also by his very intemperate talk concerning free
settlers and emancipists. He was deposed and sent to England, while a
temporary governor was installed in his place. To a certain extent he
triumphed over his enemies, as the officers who had taken part in the
rebellion were either reprimanded or dismissed. Governor Bligh came back
with the authority to assume the position of governor for just one
hour."

"Not a very long term for a man to be governor," Ned remarked.

"No, not by any means," was the reply; "but there was a technical
advantage in it which was very important. The governor did a great deal
in that one hour. He removed a good many officers and appointed new
ones in their places, and he made several changes in the administration
of the colony which were more or less embarrassing to his successor.

"Governor Bligh was succeeded by Governor Macquarie. The quarrel between
the free settlers and the emancipists continued during Macquarie's
administration. The governor took the side of the emancipists, and at
one time there was a good prospect of another rebellion; but, happily,
the new chief of the colony possessed more tact than his predecessor,
and no rebellion was ever brought about. Governor Macquarie relaxed some
of the severity with which the convicts had been treated, and this,
together with his favoring the emancipists, gave him the title of the
'Prisoners' Friend.'

"As time went on, the number of free settlers in the colony increased,
and so did the number of farms in the vicinity of Sydney. As I have
already told you, the convicts were hired out to work on the farms. Of
course a good many of them ran away, and then some of them got into the
bush, where they remained for various periods, but the majority of them
were caught and brought back within a few days. Dogs were used in
pursuing them, and several kennels of dogs were kept at the prisons for
the purpose of hunting out runaways. Some of the prisoners' beliefs in
regard to the country were very amusing. The idea got into the heads of
many that, by traveling overland for a few days, they would reach China,
and quite a number of them tried to do so. One man wandered for a month
around the bush country, until finally, driven by hunger, he ventured
to approach a house. There he saw a fellow-prisoner whom he knew, and
asked him how long he had been in China. He was very much surprised on
learning that he was not in China at all, but on a farm a few miles from
Sydney. While he was talking with the friend two soldiers happened along
and took him in charge, and then carried him back to the prison, where
he received the customary punishment.

"In 1798 a good many Irishmen who had been concerned in the Irish
rebellion of that year were transported to Australia. They saw in the
mountains back of Sydney a close resemblance to the mountains of
Connaught, in their native country, and fancied that if they could cross
those mountains they would find themselves at home. Quite a number of
them ran away in consequence, but were doomed to disappointment. One man
on the voyage out to Australia had given a good deal of time to studying
the motions of the ship's compass, and he imagined that if he could only
get something of the kind he would be all right and could safely guide
himself through the forests of Australia. He watched his chance and
stole a book on navigation. One leaf of the book had a picture of a
mariner's compass. He tore out this leaf, and, thus equipped, took the
first opportunity of running away.

"Speaking of these Irish rebels reminds me of something I must tell you.
They were convicted of treason, either for taking an active part in the
rebellion or sympathizing with it, and for this crime they were sent as
convicts to the other side of the world. No distinction was made between
political and criminal offenders, and the man who had loved his country
and tried to set her free treated with the same severity as the house
breaker and highwayman.

"A great many men were sent to Australia for the crime of poaching. Many
a man was condemned to seven, ten, and fifteen years' exile at hard
labor because he had taken a trout out of a brook, or snared a
partridge. Offenses that in these times would only result in a fine were
then punished with great severity, and a considerable number of the
convicts sent to Australia in the first thirty years of the prevalence
of the system were men whose offenses had really been very light. It was
for this reason that Governor Macquarie and other high officials took
the position that they did in favor of the emancipists. They contended
that a man whose offense had been of a trivial sort, and who had shown
himself to be honest and industrious, ought to receive a helping hand,
instead of being placed under the ban."

"I quite agree with them," said Harry; "and I wonder that the free
settlers were so severe against them."

"But you must bear in mind," the doctor answered, "that the term
'convict' is always odious, no matter under what circumstances it may
have been obtained. It was not easy at all times for the free settlers
to make a distinction among emancipists, and so they came to a quick
conclusion by denouncing all. However, that state of society has all
passed away; convicts, emancipists, and free settlers of the first
quarter of this century are all dead and gone now, with, possibly, a few
exceptions. Time has healed the breach, and this subject is very little
talked of at the present day."

"How about the descendants of the early colonists?" Ned inquired. "Do
the sins of the fathers descend upon the children, or are they all
forgotten?"

"As to that," said the doctor, "I must give you a little explanation. It
is not considered polite in Australia to ask a man born in the country
who his father was, or how he happened to emigrate from England. That is
a subject that is ignored in polite society, and, in fact, in society of
all kinds. In political life, a man may abuse his opponent as much as he
pleases in all ways, except that should he venture in the anger of
debate to intimate that his opponent's father came to Australia as an
involuntary emigrant, he renders himself liable to heavy damages. I can
tell you of a case in point.

"A prominent official in the government of Victoria is known to be the
son of a man who was transported for catching a pheasant. It is an open
secret; in fact, one could hardly say that it was a secret at all, as
every man who has any knowledge of public life is well aware of it. Once
while this man was running for office, his opponent, in a fierce debate
before a public meeting, mentioned the circumstance, whereupon the other
brought suit, and was awarded damages to the extent of fifty thousand
dollars. It is probable that the unlucky defendant of the suit has been
more careful in the use of his tongue ever since.

"One of the convicts that escaped," continued the doctor, "had a most
remarkable experience. He wandered off into the bush or forests, and
kept traveling until the small amount of provisions he carried was
exhausted. Then for two or three days he lived upon roots and leaves
and on a bird that he killed with a club.

"One day, while he was dragging himself along, he came to a mound of
earth, which had been freshly heaped up. Standing in this mound there
was a stick, and to help himself along he took possession of the stick,
which was like a long walking-cane. He observed, as he took possession
of it, that it seemed to have been used before, but he proceeded on his
way and thought no more about the matter.

"After dragging himself along for half a mile or more, he suddenly came
upon a little encampment of native blacks or aborigines. They raised a
shout as they saw him and made a rush in his direction, brandishing
their spears and other weapons, and showing signs of hostility.

"The poor fellow thought his last hour had come, as he had heard that
the blacks murdered every white man they came across. What was his
surprise when they suddenly lowered their weapons and changed their
demonstrations of hostility to those of respect! They gathered about him
in the most friendly manner imaginable, and tried to talk with him, but
he could not understand a word. They threw up a shelter for him larger
than any other shelter in the encampment, and installed him there, and
they treated him as though he were a princely ambassador. They brought
him food, which he ate ravenously, and they continued to place their
greatest delicacies before him until his appetite was fully satisfied.

"Well, he remained among them for years, and as he was a man of fair
intelligence, he soon learned their language. It did not take him long
to comprehend that he was treated as the chief of the tribe, and had
been regarded as such from the very beginning. And what do you suppose
brought it about?"

"I'm sure I can't tell," said both of the youths in a breath.

"It came about in this way," explained the doctor. "The Australian
blacks believe, or, at any rate, many of the tribes do, that the white
man is nothing more nor less than a resurrected black man. Those of them
who speak English express it in these words: 'Tumble down, black fellow;
jump up, white fellow.'

"It so happened that the tribe which he joined had just buried its
chief, and when they bury one of their dead they heap a mound of earth
above the spot, and upon the top of the mound some implement or weapon
belonging to the deceased. In this case they had stuck the old chief's
walking-staff in the top of the mound, and it was this very staff that
the white man took from the mound where the chief was buried, to help
him along on his way. When the blacks saw the man approaching they
proceeded to kill him after their custom, but as he came near and they
saw that he carried the staff of their chief, they at once concluded
that the chief had come to life again in the shape of the white fellow.
That is why they showed him so many honors and made him chief of their
tribe. It was in their minds a clear case of 'tumble down, black fellow;
jump up, white fellow.'"

"I suppose he was quite contented to stay with them, and not return to
Sydney and its punishments?" remarked one of the youths.

"Yes, indeed he was. For years rumors came to Sydney from time to time,
that there was a white man living in one of the aboriginal tribes as
their chief. Word was sent him several times by means of the blacks,
giving the governor's promise that he would not be molested if he would
come to Sydney and tell his story, but he was suspicious, and for a long
time refused to come. Finally an officer of the government went out, and
with a great deal of difficulty succeeded in having an interview with
him. He received the most solemn assurance that he would not be
interfered with, and finally said that if a full pardon were sent to
him, he would come. A full pardon was accordingly forwarded and he
ventured to Sydney, where he received a good deal of attention. His
story was taken down from his own lips, and afterward published in a
book. After a few months he became dissatisfied with civilization and
returned to his wanderings."

"That is a curious idea of the blacks, that they become white after
their death," Ned remarked.

"Yes, it is curious," said the doctor, "and they carry it out in forming
attachments for the white people who employed them. At a station where
quite a number of blacks were employed, one of the eldest of the women
used to say to the foreman of the place: 'You are my son, I your moder,
and I take care of you. My big boy tumble down, you white boy tumble up.
You my piccanniny.' After a time the man got married and brought his
wife to his home. The next day another woman of the tribe adopted and
laid claim to her as her child. The two women became very fond of each
other, and when, in the course of time, the black woman died, the white
one mourned exceedingly for her."

"We will have an opportunity to see some of the aboriginals while we are
in the country, and then we will learn more about them," continued the
doctor; "but of one thing let me remind you, do not speak of them as
'natives.' In Australia, the term 'native' is applied to a white person
born in this country, while the real natives, as we ourselves would
speak of them, are termed 'blacks' or 'aborigines.'"

The youths promised to bear the advice in mind, and then Harry asked how
the discontinuance of convict emigration was brought about.

"It was brought about," the doctor replied, "through the hostility of
the Australians themselves. They protested repeatedly against receiving
convicts, and their protests were heeded to the extent that for awhile
the emigration ceased; but one day a ship appeared in the harbor of
Sydney with a fresh batch of convicts. Thereupon the local authorities
took vigorous action, and refused to allow the convicts to be landed.
The ship then went to Melbourne, with the same result. The people of
Melbourne would not have the undesirable emigrants, and the captain was
obliged to go around the southern coast to West Australia, where no
opposition was made to the human cargo being put on shore. Convict
emigration to New South Wales and Victoria ceased about 1840, and to
Tasmania in 1853, but it was continued to West Australia until 1858.
Since that time it has been entirely given up by the British government,
and the class of people that used to be sent here is now taken care of
in British prisons at home.

"The old idea about transportation of criminals was, that it rendered
society at home better by removing the criminal class. In practise this
theory was found to be a mistaken one. Thievery and similar crimes were
found to be trades, and as fast as criminals were transported others
came up to take their places, so that, practically, no matter how many
criminals were sent away, their places were soon filled and the business
went on as before. France began the practise about the middle of this
century of transporting criminals to New Caledonia and other islands of
the Pacific; she still keeps it up, but, according to accounts, there is
no diminution of crime in France, nor is there likely to be.

"It is proper to say in this connection that there was a considerable
party in Australia in favor of the transportation system, on account of
the money the government expended here in consequence. This was
particularly the case in Van Dieman's Land, which is now called
Tasmania. That island received a great number of convicts, and the
government expended a very large amount of money for their support and
for the construction of prison establishments. Many of the public works
of Tasmania were built by the convicts. For example, they built an
excellent road one hundred and twenty miles long, running across the
island from Hobart to Launceston. It is said to be the finest wagon and
carriage road in all the country, but is now comparatively little used,
having been superseded by a railway.

"The ruins of a very extensive prison are still to be seen at Port
Arthur, about thirteen miles from Hobart; it stands on a peninsula
which is connected with the mainland by a very narrow neck. Across this
neck of land there were chained a lot of savage dogs, so near each other
that nobody could pass without being within reach of at least one of the
dogs. The water all around the peninsula abounded in sharks, so that if
a man attempted to swim across the bay he was liable to become the prey
of one, or perhaps a dozen, of these sea wolves. And yet a good many
men, first and last, managed to escape from Port Arthur and get into the
bush.

"Generally the runaways were caught before being at large many days, and
when brought back many of them were condemned to death. At one time the
keeper who had charge of the prisons at Hobart complained to the
authorities of the inadequate facilities for putting men to death by
hanging. He said it was impossible to hang conveniently more than
thirteen men at once, and as the hangman had been very busy of late, he
thought that the facilities ought to be increased so that the work could
be performed with greater expedition."

Dr. Whitney reminded his young friends that it was time for them to
start if they wished to employ the forenoon advantageously; accordingly,
a carriage was called and the party went out for a drive. They proceeded
in the direction of the lake, a pretty sheet of water in the northern
part of Adelaide--about two miles long and in some places half a mile
wide. The lake is an artificial one, and is formed by throwing a dam
across the river Torrens and restraining the waters which come down in
times of flood. For the greater part of the year the river is little
more than a dry bed of sand, and one of the inhabitants told Harry that
sprinkling-carts were driven through the bed of the river every morning
and evening to keep down the dust. The city is supplied with water from
this river; it is taken from a stream several miles above Adelaide, and
brought through heavy iron pipes.

Harry wished to know the population of the city, and was told that it
was not far from sixty thousand. There is a considerable suburban
population, and the man from whom Harry obtained his information said he
thought there was fully another sixty thousand people living within a
radius of ten miles from City Hall. He said the whole population of the
colony of South Australia was not far from one hundred and thirty
thousand including about five thousand aboriginals.

When the country was first settled it was thought that the aboriginals
numbered twelve or fourteen thousand, but contact with civilization had
reduced the figures very materially here, as in other parts of the
world. Where white men and aboriginals have come in contact, the latter
have suffered all over Australia; their relations have not changed in
New Zealand and Tasmania, and this is especially the case in the
last-named colony. Not a single aboriginal Tasmanian is now alive, the
last one having died in 1876. When the island was first occupied by the
English, the number of aboriginals was estimated at four or five
thousand. The story goes that when the British landed there the natives
made signs of peace, but the officer who was in charge of the landing
thought the signals were hostile instead of friendly. He ordered the
soldiers to fire upon the blacks, and thus began a war which lasted for
several years, and when it terminated only a few hundreds of the blacks
remained alive. In 1854, there were only fifteen of them left, and the
number gradually diminished, until the last one died as related.




CHAPTER V.

ACROSS AUSTRALIA--TALLEST TREES IN THE WORLD.


Our friends were invited to visit a large wheat farm twenty or thirty
miles north of Adelaide, and accepted the invitation with great
pleasure. Leaving the city early in the morning, the railway train took
them to a station a few miles from the farm, and there the owner met
them in his carriage. After a substantial breakfast at the owner's
residence, they were driven to the field, or, rather, to one of the
fields, where the work of harvesting was going on.

It roused their national pride somewhat to find that American
reaping-machines were in use on the farm, and they also learned that the
plowing was done with American plows. The field stretched out to an
almost limitless extent, and it needed very little play of the
imagination for the youths to believe that they were on one of their own
western prairies instead of being at the antipodes.

The farm seemed to be managed in a most systematic manner, and before
they departed the owner showed them a copy of the rules which the men
were required to sign when they were engaged. Before signing, the rules
were read to them line by line, and sentence by sentence, and each man
acknowledged that he had a full understanding of the documents to which
he affixed his signature.

Perhaps it may interest our readers to know something about these
rules. Sixty men are employed on a farm throughout the whole year, and
in the busy season three times that number are engaged. Here is the
substance of the rules:--

"The bell rings at five o'clock in the morning, and this is the signal
for everybody to get up. Horses are groomed and fed before six o'clock,
and at that hour the men are served with breakfast. At seven o'clock the
teams are harnessed, and teams and men go to the field. At noon one hour
is allowed for rest and dinner, and then work goes on until five o'clock
in winter and six o'clock in summer. Then the teams return to the
stables, and the men get their suppers at seven o'clock. The horses are
fed and watered at eight o'clock, and by ten o'clock everybody must be
in bed."

First-class hands on these farms receive twenty shillings ($5) per week,
and employees of other grades are paid in proportion. One clause in the
rules says that any man in charge of horses who abuses them or neglects
to care for them properly will be discharged at once, and forfeit all
wages that may be due him. Penalties are stated for every sort of
offense, all of them being in the shape of fines or loss of situation,
or both. Every laborer who begins in a low position is promised an
advance in pay and place as a reward of his industry and good conduct.

"There are a good many farms of this sort in South Australia," said Ned
in his journal, "and we are sorry that time prevents our visiting all
those that we have been invited to see; but our regret is modified by
the recollection that one farm is very largely a repetition of another
farm, and so we accept the situation and say nothing more about it.
South Australia is a great wheat-growing country, and ships an immense
quantity of wheat to England. In good years it produces fully fifteen
millions of bushels for export, in addition to the quantity required for
home consumption.

"Next in importance to the wheat crop in South Australia is the crop of
wool. There are nearly seven millions of sheep in the colony, and
between the wool and bread-stuffs, the income to the country is very
considerable. We now understand the uses of the immense sheds, and the
grain elevators that we saw when we landed at Port Adelaide. Large as
they are, the capacities of these places of storage must be taxed to
their utmost in busy times.

"They have given considerable attention to the cultivation of the grape.
Grapes, apricots, peaches, and other fruits grow in great abundance, so
much so that in the fruit season they are retailed in the market of
Adelaide at a penny a pound, and all of them are delicious. Quite an
industry is being developed in canning fruits for exportation, and it
will probably increase gradually as the years go on."

Our friends were invited to make a journey on the line of the Great
Northern Railway, which is ultimately intended to reach the northern
coast of Australia. The distance across Australia, from north to south,
is about seventeen hundred miles; about four hundred miles of the line
are completed, leaving thirteen hundred miles yet to be built. It will
cost a great deal of money to finish the railway, but the people are
ambitious, and will probably accomplish it in the course of time.

They already have a telegraph line, running for the greater part of the
way through a very desolate region. For hundreds of miles there are no
white people, except the operators and repairers at the stations, and in
many places it is unlikely that there will ever be any inhabitants, as
the country is a treeless waste, and, at some of the stations, water has
to be brought from a considerable distance. Artesian wells have been
bored at many of the stations; at some of them successfully, while at
others it was impossible to find water.

The railway official who invited our friends to make the journey, told
them that he was connected with the telegraph company at the time of its
construction, and he gave an interesting account of some of the
difficulties they encountered.

"The desert character of the country," said the gentleman, "caused us a
great deal of inconvenience. We were obliged to haul or carry provisions
and material for long distances. Where it was practicable to use wagons
we used them, but where we could not do so we employed camels. Camels
were introduced into Australia forty or fifty years ago, and they have
been a great deal of use to us in parts of the country where water is
scarce. The conditions of Northern and Central Australia very much
resemble those of the regions of Northern Africa, where the camel had
its origin, or, at all events, where it abounds to-day in greatest
numbers. Had it not been for the 'Ship of the Desert,' it is possible
that we might not have been able to build the telegraph line across
Australia. The camel is so highly appreciated here that the government
has established several breeding stations for those ungainly creatures,
and their number is increasing every year.

"You know already about the scarcity of water in the desert region.
Springs are few and far between, and rain is of rare occurrence. It was
frequently necessary to carry water thirty or forty miles, and on
account of the great heat it was impossible to carry it in skins or in
wooden cases, owing to the rapid evaporation. Cases or cans of
galvanized iron proved to be the best receptacles for water, so far as
evaporation was concerned, but they have the disadvantage of becoming
cracked and leaky in the rough treatment to which they are subjected.

"Poles for the telegraph had to be hauled a long distance for a large
part of the way. Iron poles are generally used, owing to an insect that
destroys wood with great rapidity. I wonder if you have yet seen any of
the ravages of this little creature?"

This last remark was made in the form of an interrogation, to which
Harry responded that he had not yet observed anything of the kind, nor
had his attention been called to it. Ned remarked that he had been told
of the destructiveness of this worm, but had not yet seen anything of
its work.

"If you had seen it you would remember it," said the gentleman. "The
worm abounds more in the country districts than in the city, and it does
not seem to get so much into the city houses as it does into those of
the rural districts. Suppose you settle in South Australia, and build
yourself a house or buy one already built, and proceed to take your
comfort. Some day when you are sitting in your parlor you suddenly feel
a leg of your chair going through the floor, and down you go with a
crash. Somebody runs to your assistance, and the additional strain put
upon the floor causes the break to increase, and, together with the
person who has come to your aid, you go down in a heap through a yawning
chasm in the floor, no matter whether your room is carpeted or not. If
it is the former, the ravages of the worm have been quite concealed by
the carpet; while in the latter case the surface of the wood presents
the same appearance, while the whole interior of the plank or board has
been turned to dust. This sort of thing has happened in many an
Australian house, and will doubtless continue to happen."

Harry asked if there was any way of preventing the ravages of this
destroyer.

His informant replied that there were two or three kinds of wood which
these insects would not touch. Unfortunately, however, they were higher
priced than ordinary wood, and consequently the temptation was to use
the cheaper article. Houses could also be built of cement, brick, or
other substances which defied the wood worm, but these, again, were
expensive and could not be afforded by newly arrived emigrants, whose
capital was generally very limited.

"Returning to the subject of the telegraph," the gentleman continued,
"we found a great deal of trouble with the insects destructive to wood,
and then, too, we had considerable difficulty with the blacks, though
less than we had anticipated. We managed to inspire them with a very
wholesome fear of the mysterious fluid that passed through the wires,
and though they have burned stations, and killed or wounded quite a
number of our people, they have never meddled with the wires."

"How did you manage to inspire them with such fear?" queried Harry.

"We did it in this way," was the reply. "Whenever a native visited us,
we managed to give him a shock of electricity, and if we could shock an
entire group at once it was so much the better. On several occasions we
got two or more of their chiefs at stations hundreds of miles apart, and
then let them talk with each other over the wires. Where they were well
acquainted, they were able to carry on conversations which none but
themselves could understand. Then we would have them meet half way
between the stations and compare notes, and the result was something
that greatly astonished them. Savage people generally attribute to the
devil anything they cannot understand, and they very quickly concluded
that 'His Satanic Majesty' was at the bottom of the whole business and
it would be well for them to let it carefully alone.

"An amusing thing happened one day when we were putting up a portion of
the line. There was a crowd of native blacks watching us, and the
principal man among them walked for an hour or two along the line,
making a critical examination of the posts and wires and pacing the
distance between the posts.

"When he had evidently made up his mind as to the situation he walked up
to the foreman of the working party and said, with an accent of
insolence:--

"'My think white fellow one big fool.'

"When the foreman tried to find out his reason for expressing contempt
in that way, he pointed to the telegraph line and said:--

"'That piece of fence never stop cattle.'

"Before the foreman could explain what the supposed thing was intended
for, he walked off with his nose very much in the air and never came
near the telegraph line again, as far as we know."

After a short laugh over the incident, one of the youths asked how far
apart the stations were.

"The distances vary considerably according to circumstances," said their
informant. "In some places they are within thirty or forty miles of each
other, and there are portions of the line where they are one hundred
miles apart. There are two operators and two repairers at each station.
These are all white men, and some of them have their families with them.
In addition to the white residents at the station, there are all the way
from two or three to eight or ten blacks. The blacks in our service are
generally faithful, and we put a great deal of dependence upon them.
Sometimes they are treacherous, but not often, as treachery is not a
part of their nature.

"I was making a tour of inspection of the line shortly after it was
completed, and happened to be at one of the stations at a time when the
blacks were threatening trouble. One of the operators, Mr. Britton, was
accompanied by his wife. Her husband wanted her to go to a place of
greater safety, but she refused, and said she would stand by his side.
She was a good shot with the revolver, and promised that in case of
trouble she would put her abilities to a practical test.

"The blacks came about the station to beg, and also to ascertain the
strength of the company, and one evening word came that they were going
to have a corroboree in a little patch of forest near the station.
Perhaps you don't know what a corroboree is."

Both of the youths shook their heads and acknowledged their ignorance.

"Well, it is a wild sort of dance, something like the dances among your
American Indians, with local variations to suit the climate and people.
The dancing is done by the men, who get themselves up in the most
fantastic manner imaginable with paint of various colors. They daub
their faces with pigments in streaks and patches, and trace their ribs
with white paint, so that they look more like walking skeletons than
like human beings. Generally at one of these dances they wear strips of
skin around their waists, and ornament their heads with feathers.

"I said that the dancing was done by the men, though this is not
absolutely the rule, as there are certain dances in which the women take
part, though not a very conspicuous one. Generally the dances are by the
people of one tribe, though there are a few in which several tribes take
part. As a usual thing, however, this kind of a dance ends in a fight,
as the dancers work themselves up to a condition of frenzy, and if there
is any ill feeling among them it is sure to crop out.

"The dances in the neighborhood of the telegraph station to which I
referred included men of several tribes, and we knew that mischief
would be likely to come of it. Two of our black fellows went as near to
the scene of the dance as they dared go, and from time to time brought
us particulars of the proceedings.

"We got revolvers and rifles ready, Mrs. Britton taking possession of
one of the revolvers, and loading it very carefully. All along during
the evening we could hear the yelling of the natives at their dance, but
an hour or so before midnight the noise diminished, and one of our black
fellows came in to tell us that they were preparing to attack the
station.

"The principal building of the station was a block house built for
defense against the blacks, and strong enough to resist any of their
weapons; but, of course, they would be able to overpower us by
surrounding the place and starving us out, though we had little fear of
that. The great danger was that they would come upon us in great
numbers, and as we were not sufficiently numerous to defend all parts of
the building at once, they could set it on fire and thus compel us to
come out and be slaughtered.

"The warning brought by our black fellow proved to be correct. The men
who had been engaged in the dance had left the scene of their
jollification and moved in the direction of the station. We could hear
their voices as they approached, and it was much to our advantage that
the moon was of sufficient size to give a fairly good light. The station
was in such a position that no one could approach it without being seen.

"In a little while we saw in the moonlight a mass of dark figures
crossing the open space to the south, and, judging by the ground they
covered, there were at least a hundred of them. They advanced quietly
about half way across the clearing and then broke into a run, while they
filled the air with yells. In a few moments they were all around the
building, and quite a number of them threw their spears at it--a very
foolish procedure, as the weapons could do no harm whatever to the thick
sides of the structure. It was our policy not to take life or even to
shed blood if we could possibly avoid it, as we were anxious to be on
friendly terms with the black people along our line. I had been thinking
the matter over in the evening, and suddenly hit upon a scheme that I
thought would save us from injuring anybody, and at the same time give
our assailants a thorough scare.

"There happened to be in the station a package of rockets, which had
been brought along for signaling purposes during the work of
construction. Just as the crowd of blacks reached the station, I asked
Mr. Britton, the chief operator, to bring me one of the rockets.

"He complied with my request, and I fixed the missile so that it would
go just above the heads of the crowd of yelling blacks. Then I touched a
match to the fuse, and away sailed the rocket through the night air.

"Not one of those aboriginals had ever seen anything of the kind before.
They started not upon the order of their going, but went as though
pursued by wild tigers or guilty consciences. They could not have been
more astonished if the moon had dropped down and exploded among them.
They gave just one yell, and it was five times as loud as any yell they
had previously given.

"In less than two minutes from the time the rocket was fired, there was
not a hostile black man around the station. Our own black fellows had
been trembling with fear, as they knew that, in case of capture, they
would share whatever fate was in store for us, the wild blacks being
greatly prejudiced against any one of their number who takes service
with the whites. The crowd fled in the direction of the scene of their
corroboree, but they did not stop there. We learned the next day that
they ran three or four miles before coming to a halt.

"We saved the station and ourselves without shedding a drop of blood.
The story was told by the blacks far and wide that we 'shot a star at
them.' This gave us a hint on which we acted, and we took pains to
circulate the report that we had power to bring all the heavenly bodies
to our aid whenever we needed them. Several times we offered to chief of
the tribe to bring down the moon, or any of the stars that he might
designate, but for fear that he would take us at our word, we always
said that we would not be responsible for the consequences. In view of
these circumstances, he invariably asked us to leave the denizens of the
heavens alone.

"All the attacks on our stations have not been as bloodless as the one I
have just described," the gentleman continued. "Three or four years
after the line was opened the blacks attacked a station about one
thousand miles north of Adelaide. One of the operators, Mr. Stapleton,
was mortally wounded, and so was one of the line repairers. Both the
other white men at the station were slightly wounded, and one of the
blacks in our service was killed. The attack lasted only a short time,
and the assailants were driven away by the well-directed fire of the
people at the station.

"The mortally wounded operator, Mr. Stapleton, was placed on a couch,
while the other operator was telegraphing the news of the occurrence to
Adelaide. A doctor was called to the telegraph office in the city, and
on learning the nature of the wound he pronounced it mortal. Mr.
Stapleton's wife was a telegraph operator, and was then employed in the
station at Adelaide. A telegraph instrument was placed at the bedside of
the dying man, and connected with the instrument on his wife's desk. The
two exchanged loving messages for a few minutes, and then the husband
with his last efforts telegraphed an eternal good-by to his wife,
dropped the instrument from his hand, and fell back dead. I was in the
office at Adelaide at the time of this occurrence, and was one of those
in the room where Mrs. Stapleton sat. Nearly all of those present were
experienced operators, and could understand the clicking of the
instrument. Every eye was filled with tears, and every heart was full of
sympathy for the woman who had been so tragically widowed. As she
received the final message of farewell she fell from her chair in a dead
faint, from which she did not recover for hours."

As the foregoing story was narrated to our young friends, their eyes,
too, were moist, and so were those of Dr. Whitney, who was sitting close
by them. Silence prevailed for several minutes, and then the
conversation turned to other subjects.

The gentleman explained that the northern terminus of the telegraph
line was at Port Darwin, where connection was made with the telegraph
cable to Singapore, and thence to Europe. "I suppose, in time," said he,
"there will be other telegraph connections, but for the present this is
the only one that Australia has with the rest of the world. Undoubtedly
we shall one day have a cable to the United States, and that will
certainly greatly facilitate commerce. At present, telegrams coming from
your country to this must come by a very roundabout journey."

Harry asked what course a telegram would be obliged to take in coming
from San Francisco to Adelaide.

"Let me see," said the gentleman; "in the first place, it would be
telegraphed overland from San Francisco to New York, and then it would
go under the Atlantic Ocean through one of the transatlantic cables, and
then there would be two or three routes by which it could be sent. It
could go by submarine cable to the Straits of Gibraltar, thence under
the Mediterranean and Red Seas, and the Indian Ocean to Bombay, or it
could cross Europe by one of the land lines, and then go through Russia
and Persia to the north of India, reaching Bombay by the land route.
From Bombay it would be telegraphed across India to Madras, and thence
by submarine cable to Singapore, and from Singapore it would be sent by
cable to Port Darwin, and thence by the Australian overland line to
Adelaide. The message would be repeated six or seven times in the course
of its journey, and the fact that so few mistakes are made in the
numerous repetitions, many of them by people having an imperfect
knowledge of English, speaks volumes in praise of the telegraph system."

Both of our young friends heartily indorsed this remark, and agreed with
their informant that the telegraph certainly performed excellent work.

Our friends made the journey along the line of railway to which they had
been invited. They found it interesting though not altogether free from
monotony, as there was an excessive amount of sameness in the country
through which they traveled. They passed through a range of low
mountains which were not sufficiently broken to be picturesque. They
crossed several dry or slightly moistened beds of rivers, where
indications were clearly visible that in times of heavy rains these dry
beds or insignificant streams were turned to floods. Here and there the
line crossed immense sheep farms and also great wheatfields, but there
were wide stretches of land which seemed to have no occupants whatever.
Most of the country was open and free from trees. Then there were other
parts where the line passed for miles and miles through "scrub," and at
irregular intervals they came upon patches and stretches of Australian
forest.

Harry noted that the forests through which they passed had very little
undergrowth, so that it was easy to ride in any direction among the
trees. Most of the trees that they saw were eucalypti, of which there
are many varieties. The eucalyptus is by far the most common tree of
Australia, and the best known variety is the one that is called "the
blue gum." It is said that fevers do not prevail where the eucalyptus
grows, and this theory seems to be developed into a well-established
fact. Decoctions and other extracts are made from the leaves, bark,
wood, and gum of the eucalyptus and are given to fever patients with
more or less success. The eucalyptus has been taken to foreign
countries, and where the climatic conditions are suitable it has
flourished and established itself. The French government introduced it
into Algeria and planted it at military stations, where the soldiers had
suffered much from malaria. At all those stations the malaria was long
ago driven away by the trees, and places that were once unhealthy are
now renowned for their salubrity.

The youths observed that most of the eucalyptus trees were tall and
slender. The gentleman who accompanied them said that their trunks were
often found with a diameter of ten to twelve feet, and some had been
measured that were sixteen feet in diameter at a distance of ten feet
from the ground. The trees grow very rapidly, and their timber when
green is soft, so that they can be felled, split, and sawed very easily,
but when dry it becomes very hard. It is a very useful wood, as it is
adapted for many purposes. The bark contains a great deal of tannin, and
it has become to some extent an article of commerce.

The leaves of the eucalyptus have a leathery appearance and generally
stand in a vertical position, so that one side receives as much light as
the other. A valuable aromatic oil is extracted from the leaves, and is
used for medicinal and other purposes. It is said to be very
objectionable to mosquitoes, and Harry was told that if he scattered a
few drops of eucalyptus oil on his pillow at night, he would not be
troubled with mosquitoes, even though there might be many of them in the
room. He promised to try the experiment at the first opportunity.

Ned asked what variety of the eucalyptus was the tallest, and how tall
the highest tree of Australia was.

"The giant gum, _Eucalyptus amygdalina_, is said to be the tallest tree
in the world," the gentleman replied. "I am not sure whether it is
really so or not, as you have some very tall trees in the United States,
and there are also some of great height in the valley of the Amazon
River. I have heard of giant gum trees five hundred feet high, but their
location has always been given very vaguely, and nobody knew by whom
they had been measured. There is one giant gum tree on Mount Baw-Baw, in
Gippsland, that has been officially measured by a surveyor and found to
be four hundred and seventy-one feet high. What its diameter is at the
base I am unable to say, but probably it is not less than fifteen or
sixteen feet. New forests and new groups of trees are being discovered
from time to time, and perhaps we will one day find a tree more than
five hundred feet high.

"I will add," said their informant, "that the giant gum is also called
the 'silver stem,' because when it sheds its bark every year the new
surface of the tree, when the old one has come off, is as white as
silver. A group of these trees is a very pretty sight, as the trunks are
perfectly round, and very often the lowest limbs are fully two hundred
feet from the ground."




CHAPTER VI.

AUSTRALIAN BLACKS--THROWING THE BOOMERANG.


"Those giant gums are not easy to climb," Ned remarked, as the gentleman
paused.

"Not by any means," was the reply; "at least, not for a white man, but
the black fellow will climb one of them, or any other tree, with very
little trouble."

"Why, how does he do it?"

"He cuts notches in the trunk of the tree where he can place his feet,
and he goes on cutting notch after notch as he ascends, making a broad
spiral around the tree until he reaches the limbs. Sometimes he passes a
piece of rope, made out of twisted bark, around the body of the tree to
steady himself, but he is just as likely to take no rope along, and
trust entirely to keeping his balance with his feet in the notches."

"Those black fellows are very accomplished in their way," remarked one
of the youths.

"They are, indeed," was the reply; "and they do certain things that no
white man can ever do. For example, a black fellow employed on a cattle
estate will ride at full gallop and follow the track of a runaway cow or
steer without making a single mistake. A white man would be obliged to
go at a walk, or a very little better, and quite frequently would find
it necessary to dismount and examine the ground carefully. The black
fellows are fully equal to your American Indians in following a trail;
they can track men almost as well as bloodhounds can. In parts of
Australia we have a police force of blacks, and they perform splendid
service in hunting highwaymen and others who have committed crimes and
fled into the bush for concealment and safety."

Harry asked if the blacks were honest in their dealings with white
people.

"I regret to say that their reputation is not by any means the best in
the world," was the reply. "Like savages everywhere when brought into
contact with civilization, they seem to adopt its vices and reject its
virtues. They are generally faithful to those by whom they are employed,
and in this respect their characters are commendable. When it comes to
ordinary lying and stealing, they are very skillful. They resemble other
savages in their fondness for intoxicating drinks, and when they get a
little money their desire to go on a spree is very apt to be
uncontrollable. They will leave their work and go to the nearest place
where intoxicants can be bought, and they keep on buying and drinking
until their money is gone. Generally speaking, you cannot keep them in
your employ very long. As soon as one learns his business so that he is
really useful, he either quits or behaves in such a manner that he has
to be sent away."

Just as this last remark was made, the train halted at a station, and as
our young friends looked through the window they saw a group of blacks.
They had seen a few black fellows on the wheat farm that they visited,
and some had come under their observation in the streets of Adelaide.
These, however, were dressed in civilized garments, and the group at the
station was the first they had seen in aboriginal dress.

Harry noted the scantiness of their costume, which consisted chiefly of
a strip of cloth about the waist, and another strip thrown over the
shoulder or disposed of in some fantastic way. Their skins were black,
though not of the inky, coal-like color of the pure-blooded African
negro. Their hair was curly, but did not have a woolly crispness. The
features seemed to be more like those of the Malay than of the Negro
race, and Ned observed that the hair of the women hung down in wavy
plaits, which is not the case with the hair of the negro of the Congo or
the Nile. Every man in the party carried a spear, and Ned wondered why
they were not armed with bows and arrows.

"That is for the very simple reason," said their informant, "that the
Australian aborigines have never used the bow and arrow; their only
weapons are the spear, club, knife, and boomerang. Their principal
weapon for fighting is the waddy or club, and each tribe has a peculiar
shape for its waddies. This weapon is made of hard wood, and is somewhat
suggestive of the night stick of a New York policeman, with the
difference that it has a knob on the end to enable it to be grasped with
greater security. There is a rule in fighting with the waddy, that you
must hit your antagonist on the head. It is not fair to strike him in
any other part of the body with these weapons, and the man who would do
so would not be regarded as a gentleman in aboriginal society. The
difference in the waddies is such that you can very often tell what
tribe a party belongs to by examining one of their clubs.

"They are accustomed to spears from their childhood, and can throw them
very accurately for a distance of thirty or forty yards. I once saw a
considerable number of blacks together, and several white men of us got
up a competition in spear throwing. We chalked out the figure of a man
on the side of a building, and then paced off forty yards from it. We
offered a prize of one shilling to every black who would hit this figure
with the spear three times out of five at the distance indicated. We had
them take turns in succession, and when the competition was over we
found that we were obliged to give a shilling to every one of the
competitors, as all had hit it three times. Half of them did so four
times, and the other half the entire five times."

Ned asked what the spears were made of. He learned, in reply, that
sometimes they were single shafts of wood tipped with stone, bone, or
iron. Others had heads of hard wood, while the shafts consisted of light
reeds which grow on the banks of the rivers and lakes. The spears are
usually from six to ten feet long, at least the fighting spears are.
Some of the tribes living along the rivers have spears fifteen or
eighteen feet long, intended for fishing purposes and not for war.

Harry wanted to know what was the religious belief of the blacks, and
what were their ideas about the creation.

"As to religion," the gentleman answered, "they don't seem to have much,
and the little they do have is of a very mixed character. Like all
savages, they believe in good and bad spirits, and they treat the bad
spirits with much more ceremony than they do the good ones; on the
ground, I presume, that it is necessary to propitiate the bad spirits to
save themselves from injury, while the good ones can be relied upon not
to do any harm. Some of the tribes believe in a Great Spirit or Supreme
Being, while others have no idea of the kind. They have a good many
superstitions, and, though not a people of much imagination, they have
quite a variety of mythical stories that originated a long time ago, and
have been handed down by tradition. It is a curious circumstance that
some of these myths repeat quite closely the story of the creation, the
fall, and the deluge, but where they came from nobody can tell."

"Is there any book where we can find any of these traditions?" Harry
asked.

"Oh, certainly; they have been collected and published, but I can give
you the principal ones from memory."

"The story about the creation is, that one of the spirits that ruled the
world created two men out of the dust of the earth, and gave these two
men a very rich country to live in. Another spirit created two women and
gave one of them to each man. Then he gave spears to each of the men,
and told them to kill kangaroos with their weapons, and gave sticks to
the women, with which to dig roots out of the ground. Thus it came about
that men carry spears and clubs as weapons, while the women perform most
of the menial work. The men and women were commanded to live together,
and in this way the world in time became full of people. They grew so
numerous in the region where they were, that the great spirits caused
storms to arise and high winds to blow in order to scatter the people
over the globe.

"The tradition about the first sin is, that the first man and woman were
ordered by the spirits not to go near a certain tree, as a bat lived
there which must not be disturbed. One of the women went too near the
tree, her curiosity having got the better of her, and the bat became
alarmed and flew away. After that death came into the world, having
before been unknown.

"They have another tradition that at one time all the water in the earth
was contained in the body of an immense frog, where nobody could reach
it. The spirits held an investigation, and ascertained that if the frog
could be made to laugh the water would run out of his mouth when he
opened it, and the drought then prevailing would be broken. All the
animals of the world gathered together and danced and capered before the
frog in order to make him laugh, but all to no purpose. Then they called
up the fishes to see if they could accomplish anything, but the frog
preserved a solemn face until the eel began to wriggle.

"The wriggling of the eel was too much for the frog and he laughed
outright. Immediately the waters flowed from his mouth and the earth was
covered with water. Many people were drowned, and all who could do so
sought the highest land. The pelican undertook to save the black people;
he made a great canoe and went around picking up the people, wherever he
could find them, and thus saved a great many.

"They have a theory about the sun," the gentleman continued, "that is
certainly a very practical one. They say that as it gives out a great
deal of light during the daytime, it needs a supply of fuel, and it goes
at night to a place where it takes in fuel enough for its next day's
work. They say that it used to take in wood exclusively before white
people came to Australia, but since the arrival of the whites, and the
opening of coal mines, they think the sun takes in both coal and wood at
the place where it renews its supply.

"They believe in dragons, great serpents, and other wonders, and if you
are inclined to laugh at them for their beliefs, you must remember that
all the rest of the world shared in them two or three hundred years ago.
The creature in which they have the greatest faith is the bun-yip, which
is supposed to haunt rivers, lakes, and other bodies of water, and
possesses remarkable powers. According to their description, he is like
a dragon; he devours black and white people indiscriminately, and can
cause all sorts of misfortune. Many natives, and also quite a number of
white men, claim to have seen him, and they certainly give some very
graphic accounts of his appearance and actions. Not long ago an account
appeared in one of the Australian newspapers, written by a white man and
certified to by another white man, who claim to have actually seen the
bun-yip in a small lake, and described him very minutely."

"And was the story really true?" Harry asked.

"Well, yes, I suppose it was. That is to say, I believe, as do many
others, that there is an amphibious animal living in some of the
Australian lakes and rivers of which no specimen has yet been taken. The
description of the bun-yip by those who claim to have seen him, and are
not carried away by their imaginations, is very much like that of a
Newfoundland dog or a seal. The seal exists in Australian waters, and I
think that is what the bun-yip will turn out to be if one ever allows
himself to be taken."

At the station at the end of the line of railway there was an encampment
of blacks, about half a mile away, and our young friends were quite
curious to see it.

Their curiosity was soon satisfied, as there was nothing particularly
attractive about the spot. The blacks were civilized enough to live in
tents, or, rather, they accepted the bounty of the government which
supplied them with tents, though it was evident that they did not intend
to give up their old way of living, inasmuch as they had two or three
bark shelters of the old-fashioned sort, in addition to the canvas house
supplied by the government. And we may remark here that the various
colonial governments provide for the support of all the aboriginals
living within their territory. Government officials take care of them,
supply them with food, clothing, and medical comforts, and assign
reservations of land to them, just as the Indian Department of the
United States assigns reservations to the red men. But with all the care
they receive, their number is steadily diminishing, and the day is not
far distant when the last of them will cease to exist.

A man who could speak the language of the aboriginals accompanied our
young friends in their visit to the encampment. At Harry's request, he
arranged with the men to give an exhibition of their skill in throwing
the spear, and after that was over he asked them to throw the boomerang.
While they were getting ready for their performance the interpreter
explained that the boomerang was a great deal of a mystery. He said that
no white man, even after years of practise, had ever been able to throw
this weapon with any degree of accuracy, and that no Australian black
could explain how the weapon was handled. If you ask one of them to
explain about throwing the boomerang, he usually says, "You throw him,
that all"; and that seems to be all there is to it.

Ned and Harry watched the performance with the greatest care, and they
afterwards said that they knew as much about it before they witnessed it
as they did afterwards, with the exception that they had seen with their
own eyes what could be done.

"First, you must understand," said Ned afterwards, "that there are
several kinds of boomerangs, the difference being in size, weight, and
shape. The variations in shape are so slight that they are not readily
perceived by the stranger, though a black would have no difficulty in
determining them. The lightest of the boomerangs weigh from four to five
ounces, while the heaviest are double that weight. Harry happened to
have his spring letter-balance in his pocket, and we weighed one of the
boomerangs that we saw used. Its weight was about six ounces and our
interpreter said that he considered it rather a light one."

"The heaviest boomerangs are used for fighting purposes and for killing
kangaroos, emus, and other large game.

"The boomerang is a queerly shaped weapon. It is made of hard wood and
curved like a bow, the curve from point to point being about a quarter
of a circle. The piece of wood that forms the boomerang is about half an
inch thick, and in the middle it is two and one half inches wide,
narrowing steadily towards the end. I took it in my hand and made a
motion as if to throw it, whereupon the owner laughed, and indicated by
signs that I had seized it by the wrong end.

"When he made ready to throw the weapon, the interpreter told us to
stand perfectly still, lest we might be injured. I asked how it could
happen, and he said that the performer always selected the spot to which
the boomerang returned, and by changing our positions, especially after
the weapon had been thrown, we might be struck by it when it came back.

"Both before and after taking his position the performer carefully
observed the force and direction of the wind, as it has a great deal to
do with the flight of the boomerang. When he was quite ready he flung
the weapon almost straight into the air, where it circled about a few
times, and skimmed along near the ground until it was about three
hundred feet distant; then it turned, made a slight upward motion
through the air, and finally fell within an arm's length of where the
performer stood. The interpreter explained that this weapon was called
the return-boomerang.

"The man repeated several times the performance with the weapon,
bringing it close to his feet on every occasion. Then a coin was placed
in the end of a split stick forty or fifty yards distant, at the
suggestion of the performer, who stipulated that he would knock the coin
out without disturbing the stick, on condition that he should have the
coin, a one-shilling piece, in case he succeeded.

"He balanced the boomerang with great care and then threw it. It made
several gyrations in the air, and when it reached its destination it
knocked the coin from its place as neatly as one could have removed it
with his fingers. All who stood by applauded the performer, and he was
given the opportunity to win several more shillings in the same way.

"I ought to mention that each time when he threw the boomerang he varied
his manner of throwing it. Sometimes he sent the weapon straight into
the air; next he skimmed it along the ground, and next he launched at an
angle of from forty to sixty degrees. Every time he threw it, it came
back to his feet, but when he threw it at the coins in the stick it did
not return.

"The interpreter explained to us that the return-boomerang was more of a
toy than a weapon, as the regular boomerang cannot return when it has
hit something in its course. Wonderful stories have been told of the use
of this weapon in war,--how the black fellow will launch it two or three
hundred yards, and have it kill one or more of his enemies, and then
come back to his feet. A moment's thought will convince any one that the
two things together are impossible. In order to return to the place
whence it started, the boomerang must not encounter or even touch
anything in its way. When it is used for killing men, or wild animals,
it does not come back to the ground of its thrower.

"From all accounts that I am able to obtain, the boomerang as a weapon
in the hands of a good thrower is very dangerous. It can be made to hit
a man concealed behind a tree, rock, or house, where a gun or a spear
could not possibly reach him. As a hunting weapon it is of great
utility, and many a kangaroo has fallen before it. The skillful thrower,
within reaching distance of a kangaroo or an emu, is as sure of his prey
as a white man would be with a Winchester rifle."

Ned and Harry tried to learn from the performer when and by whom the
boomerang was invented, and all they could get from him was, "Long time
ago; who knows?" He threw a little light upon the subject by picking up
a leaf of the gum tree, holding it at arm's length, and then letting it
fall to the ground. It gyrated and changed its course as it descended.
Then he picked it up and threw it straight from him, when it gyrated
again and returned towards him. It is probable that the idea of the
boomerang may have been taken from the motions of a falling leaf, and
especially a leaf of the gum tree. As the weapon is known through all
the tribes of Australian blacks, it is not likely to have been a recent
invention.

"I have read somewhere," said Harry, "that a weapon similar to the
boomerang was known to the ancient Egyptians, and that there is also
something of the same sort in use among a tribe of Indians in Arizona.
If it is true that the Egyptians of old times had this weapon, we may
well repeat the oft-quoted saying, 'There is nothing new under the sun,'
but it seems, at any rate, that the Australian boomerang is greatly
superior to the Arizona one, as it can be projected very much further
and with far more deadly effect."

The performer with the boomerang was evidently very well satisfied with
his morning's work, and he was certainly very liberally paid for his
performances. He invited our friends to take dinner with him, at least,
so the interpreter said, though the youths were suspicious that the
invitation was all a joke. Anyhow, they did not accept it, as they
thought that the meal, with the surroundings which were visible, would
have no temptation either for the eye or the appetite.

Harry heard the following story, which he duly entered in his
notebook:--

"Once a lawyer undertook the defense of a black fellow who had been
arrested for stealing a gold watch. The evidence was wholly
circumstantial, as the stolen property had not been found, and the
lawyer handled the case so well that the alleged thief was acquitted. A
few hours after the trial, the lawyer was seated on the verandah of the
principal hotel in the place, engaged in conversation with the
magistrate before whom the case was tried, when along came the black
fellow.

"'Can I wear the watch now?' said the black, at the same time drawing it
forth from an inner pocket.

"The magistrate burst into a loud and hearty laugh. The lawyer laughed,
too, but his laughter had a very hollow sound, and then he shouted an
emphatic 'No!' to the confiding aboriginal."

Quite a little town had sprung up at the terminus of the railway, and
Dr. Whitney said it reminded him of the towns along the Pacific
railways of the United States during the course of their construction.
The comparison, he said, was favorable to the Australian town, as the
inhabitants seemed far more orderly than did those of the transitory
American settlements. During the time of their stay there was not a
single fight, and the coroner was not called upon to perform his usual
official duties.

The terminus of the railway was in a valley which was dignified with the
name of a creek, but no creek was visible. Water was supplied by an
artesian well, driven to a depth of eight hundred feet. The water was
slightly brackish but quite drinkable, and when it was made into tea or
coffee the brackish flavor disappeared.

Our friends returned to Adelaide by the way they had gone from it, and
after a day or two more in the capital of South Australia, they took the
train for Melbourne. Ned made note of the fact that had been mentioned
to him, that of all the money raised by taxation in South Australia, one
fifth of it is used for educational purposes. He further added that the
same was the case in all the colonies, and he thought it greatly to
their credit. Harry said he did not believe there was a State or city in
the whole American Union where such a large proportion of the public
money was spent for educational matters.

The youths learned, in addition, that the schools throughout the
colonies are, generally speaking, of excellent quality and the
opportunities for higher education in academies, colleges, universities,
medical and scientific institutions, and similar seats of learning, are
of the best class. Ned made the following summary from the Education
Act of South Australia:--

"Schools will be established where there is a certain number of children
of school age, who will pay a moderate fee to the teachers; four pence
for children under seven, and six pence for older children, per child,
per week. In addition to the fees, the teachers will be paid by the
government from seventy-five pounds to two hundred pounds per annum.
Schoolhouses will be provided, and all the necessary educational
material. Four and one half hours constitute the school day. All
children of school age are required to be under instruction until a
certain standard is reached."

Provision is made for the free instruction of children whose parents can
show that they are unable to pay for it, but fees can be enforced in all
cases where inability to pay them has not been proved. Large grants have
been made by the legislature for school buildings, teachers' salaries,
etc., in order to efficiently aid in the development of a thorough and
comprehensive system of education for the young.

South Australia has a goodly number of schools for higher education, and
it also has a university which is well attended. The majority of those
who can afford it send their children to private schools rather than to
the government ones, believing, and no doubt correctly, that the
educational facilities are greater in the private institutions than in
the public ones.




CHAPTER VII.

ADELAIDE TO MELBOURNE--THE RABBIT PEST--DANGEROUS EXOTICS.


The distance from Adelaide to Melbourne is about six hundred miles. Our
friends found that the journey was made very leisurely, the trains
averaging not more then eighteen or twenty miles an hour. For quite a
distance out of Adelaide the train ascends an incline as far as Mount
Lofty station, where the hill or mountain of that name is situated. On
the way up the last of the incline our friends watched with a great deal
of interest the plains stretching out below them, and the city which
they had just left lying at their feet like a section of carpet laid off
into ornamental squares. Beyond Mount Lofty station the route descended
into the valley of the Murray River, whose waters could be seen winding
like a thread through the yellow soil.

"This is the longest river in Australia, is it not?" queried Ned.

"Yes," replied the doctor, "it is the longest and largest river, and, as
you have already learned, it is the only one that remains a real river
throughout the year. Its mouth is not many miles from Adelaide, and a
considerable part of its course is through South Australia."

"I wonder they didn't establish the capital city at the mouth of the
Murray," remarked Harry; "they would have had the advantage of a
navigable stream, which they have not in the present location."

"Yes, that is quite true," Dr. Whitney replied; "and they would have
illustrated the saying of a philosopher, that great rivers nearly always
run past large cities, but there was a practical difficulty in the way,
of which you are not aware."

"What is it?"

"The Murray at its mouth has a bar that is very difficult and dangerous
to cross, and a large area at its entrance consists of shallow water.
The mouth of the river, furthermore, is swept by southerly winds, which
bring in great waves that have their origin in the neighborhood of the
South Pole. Consequently it was concluded that the location of the city
at the place with the largest entrance into the sea would not be
advantageous, and a location on Spencer's Gulf was considered
preferable."

"Very good reasons," said Ned, "and I have no doubt that the founders of
Adelaide acted wisely. They certainly have a very prosperous city where
they are, although their seaport is several miles away."

The train increased its speed as it descended the incline, and the
youths found plenty of occupation and amusement in studying the scenery
on each side of them, and noting the handsome residences of the
merchants and other well-to-do inhabitants of Adelaide. The river was
crossed by means of an iron bridge, a substantial structure which was
evidently built to last. After crossing the Murray, the railway
proceeded for awhile along its valley, and gradually left it to enter a
region of long-continued monotony.

"For hours in succession," said Harry in his journal, "we had little
else but scrub. I imagine that when the surveyors laid out the railway
line, they took their bearings by observation of the moon and stars, and
laid it directly across from one side of the scrub country to the other.
Scrub land is land covered with bushes. There are not many varieties of
bushes, and this fact helps along the monotony. There is one bush that
looks like an umbrella turned bottom upwards, and another that resembles
an umbrella standing upright, as one holds it to keep off the rain. Then
there are bushes and trees, some of them shaped like bottles, others
like sugar loaves, and some like nothing else that I can think of at
this moment. They vary from three or four feet in height up to fifteen
and twenty feet, and sometimes we found them of a height of thirty feet
or more.

"Mile after mile it is the same. I have heard what a terrible thing it
is to be lost in the scrub. I can well understand that it is terrible,
and can also understand how easily such a calamity could be brought
about. One mile of scrub is exactly like another mile, or so very nearly
like it that it is next to impossible to tell the difference. I have
heard that people who stepped only a few yards from the side of the road
have wandered for days before finding their way again, or have been
sought for by many people before they were found. Many a man has lost
his way in the scrub and never been heard of again, or perhaps years
after his bones were discovered bleaching at the foot of a tree, where
he had sat or lain down for his last rest when he could go no further."

A portion of the road from Adelaide to Sydney is called "the
ninety-mile desert," in distinction from the rest of the scrub region.
It was a great relief to any one to get out of this desert country, and
reach the region of farms, and fences, cattle or sheep pastures, and
cultivated fields. In some of the districts through which our travelers
passed they saw great numbers of rabbits, and on calling attention to
them, a gentleman who was in the railway carriage told them something
about the rabbit pest from which the Australian colonies are suffering.

"If you want to make a fortune," said the gentleman, "find some way for
destroying the rabbits in Australia. There is a standing reward of
twenty-five thousand pounds (one hundred and twenty-five thousand
dollars of your money) for any method that proves successful. The reward
is offered by the colony of New South Wales, and the other colonies will
pay as much more."

"Were there rabbits in this country when it was first discovered?" Harry
asked.

"There were no rabbits here," was the reply; "nor any animals like them.
In 1851, a gentleman living near Dunedin, New Zealand, was on a visit to
the old country, and it occurred to him that it would be a nice thing to
have rabbits in New Zealand, so that they could amuse themselves by
chasing the little creatures with dogs. On his return from England he
brought seven rabbits, and they were the progenitors of all the rabbits
in New Zealand, Australia, and Tasmania. For a few years, as fast as
rabbits were obtainable they were distributed throughout the colonies,
but it was not long before the distributors found out their mistake.

"The rabbits increased and multiplied at a terrific rate. How many
there are now in the colonies, nobody can tell, as it is impossible to
take a census of them, but they certainly amount to many millions. They
have destroyed millions of acres of sheep pasturage, so that many farms
which once supported great numbers of sheep have been deserted in
consequence of the rabbits. Let me give you an illustration that I know
about, as I was one of the sufferers by these vermin. Fifteen years ago,
I owned an interest in a sheep run on the bank of the Murray River in
the colony of Victoria. Our holding extended back into the dry and
comparatively worthless country.

"The rabbits got in there, and gradually the sheep were starved out.
Year by year the number diminished, and five years ago I sold my
interest in the run for a very small sum. From two hundred thousand
sheep, the number had diminished to twenty-five hundred, and these were
dying in the paddock for want of food. The rabbits were the cause of the
whole destruction. They had eaten up all the grass and edible bushes,
and it was some consolation to know that they were themselves being
starved out, and were dying by the hundreds daily. When the rabbits
there are all dead the place can be fenced in, so that no new ones can
get there, and it is possible that the grass will grow again, and the
run once more become a place of value.

"The story I have just told you," the gentleman continued, "is the story
of a great many sheep and cattle runs all over Australia and New
Zealand. All sorts of means have been resorted to to get rid of the
pest, and while some have been partially successful, none have been
wholly so. The best plan is the old one, to lock the stable before the
horse is stolen; that is, enclose the place with rabbit-proof fences
before any rabbits have been introduced. The Australian rabbit is a
burrowing animal, and unless the fence is set well into the ground, he
is very apt to dig under it. Thus it has happened that many an estate
has become infested, even though the owners had gone to the expense of
enclosing it.

"Most of the cities of Australia and New Zealand have a rabbit-skin
exchange, just as you have a cotton exchange in New York. At these
exchanges ten or fifteen millions of rabbit skins are sold every year,
or an aggregate perhaps of fifty or sixty millions, and yet the number
does not decrease perceptibly. Factories have been established for
preserving the meat of the rabbits in tin cans, and sending it to market
as an article of food. It was thought that this would certainly reduce
the number of rabbits, but it has not yet succeeded in doing so.

"Various kinds of apparatus have been devised for filling the dens of
the rabbits with noxious gases that kill them, but the process is too
expensive for general introduction; and, besides, it does not work well
in rocky ground. Rewards are given both by the government and by the
owners of land for the destruction of rabbits, and these rewards have
stimulated men, who go about the country with packs of dogs to hunt down
the rabbits for the sake of the bounty. Sometimes the whole population
turns out in a grand rabbit hunt and thousands of rabbits are killed.
Pasteur, the celebrated French chemist, proposed to destroy the rabbit
population by introducing chicken cholera among them; he thought that
by inoculating a few with the disease he could spread it among the
others, so that they would all be killed off. He admitted that the
chicken population would be killed at the same time, but none of us
would object to that if we could get rid of the rabbits, as we could
easily reintroduce domestic fowls."

Ned said that he wondered why the rabbits increased so rapidly in the
Australian colonies and not in the United States or England.

"Here is the reason of it," said the gentleman. "In America there are
plenty of wild animals, like wolves, weasels, foxes, ferrets, and the
like, to keep down the rabbit population, but here there is not a single
animal to interfere with them. They have no natural enemies whatever,
and consequently have things entirely their own way. They breed several
times a year and begin to breed very young, so that a pair of rabbits
let loose in a given locality will in a few years amount to thousands or
even to millions. There, look at that piece of ground and see what you
think of it."

The boys looked where the gentleman indicated, and saw what seemed to be
a field of tall grass or grain waving in the wind. A nearer inspection
showed that the ground was covered with rabbits, and it was the
movements of the animals that caused the illusion just described.

"Rabbits are not the only pests from which the colonies have suffered,"
the gentleman continued; "I will tell you about more of them.

"You must bear in mind," said their informant, "that when Australia was
settled it contained very few of the products, either animal or
vegetable, of other parts of the world. Among the animals there were no
noxious ones except the dingo, or wild dog, which was found in various
parts of the country. His origin has been a matter of conjecture, some
believing that he is descended from dogs which were left here by those
who discovered the continent, while others think he is indigenous to the
soil. All the other animals, and they were not numerous, were harmless
in their character. There are eight kinds of kangaroos, all of them
herbivorous. They are, as you are doubtless aware, marsupials, that is,
they carry their young in a pouch until they are able to run about by
themselves. The dingo lived by feeding on the kangaroos, and thus kept
down the number of those animals.

"Horned cattle, horses, and sheep were introduced and successfully
raised. The wild dogs killed sheep and calves, and therefore the
inhabitants set about killing them. As the dogs decreased in number the
kangaroos increased, and they threatened to drive the sheep to
starvation by eating up all the grass. Many a sheep run was rendered
worthless by the kangaroos, and so it became necessary to establish
methods of reducing the number of the latter. Battues or hunts were
organized, the people gathering from all directions at an appointed time
and place, and driving the kangaroos into pens or yards, where they were
slaughtered by the thousand. You will probably have an opportunity of
seeing a kangaroo hunt before you leave Australia.

"There were very few native fruits, and we introduced the fruits of
England and other parts of the world very successfully. We introduced
garden plants and vegetables in great numbers, and nearly all of them
turned out to our satisfaction, though this was not uniformly the case.

"You know that innocent and very acceptable plant called the watercress,
which is sold in great quantities for table use in London, New York, and
other English and American cities. Well, we brought the watercress to
the Australian colonies, and it grew and thrived wonderfully. It grew
altogether too well and thrived a great deal more than we could have
wished, as it has choked our rivers, and caused freshets and floods
which have devastated farms and fields to a large extent, and on several
occasions have been destructive to human life.

"We introduced the sweet briar, thinking it would form an ornament and
fill the air with its perfume. Instead of being ornamental, it has
become an impenetrable bush, which neither man nor cattle can go
through. It has become a nuisance, spreading over the ground and
destroying pasturage, and we heartily wish that not a twig of it was
ever brought here.

"When we began to grow fruits we found ourselves annoyed by insects of
various kinds, the same sort of insects that are known to fruit growers
everywhere. In order to get rid of them, we brought the English sparrow
here. He is of great use to the fruit grower in the old country, as he
lives principally on insects, or at any rate has the reputation of doing
so, and he does not often attack the fruit.

"Well, we got the sparrow here, and he increased and multiplied until
he became very numerous, and what do you suppose the little wretch did?

"He did not do anything that we wanted him to do. He abandoned his
English practise of eating insects, and lived wholly upon grain and
fruit. In the fruit season he is a perfect terror in the devastation he
makes among our fruit trees. A flock of sparrows will make its
appearance in a cherry garden where there are twenty, fifty, or perhaps
a hundred cherry trees bending beneath a burden of fruit just about ripe
enough to be picked. They save the owner the trouble and expense of
picking his fruit, as they take entire charge of it, and in a few days
the whole crop is ruined. Other fruit suffers in the same way, and the
testimony is the same from all parts of Australia. One of the colonial
governments had an investigation of the subject at one time, and the
testimony was something appalling. The sparrows abound here in countless
millions, all of them descended from fifty birds that were imported
about the year 1860. The owners of vineyards, as well as the fruit
farmers, complain of the ravages of the sparrows, and at the official
investigation that I mentioned one vine grower testified that his crop
of grapes the previous year would have been two tons, but the sparrows
destroyed the entire lot.

"Another bird almost as destructive as the sparrow is the _mina_ or
_mino_, a bird which was brought here from India. It is quite a handsome
bird, and can learn to talk almost as readily as the parrot, and that is
why it was brought here. It lives on fruits and vegetables, and has very
nearly the same habits as the sparrow. The colonial government have
placed a bounty upon the heads and eggs of the sparrow, and also on
those of the mina. A great many boys and men, too, make a fairly good
revenue in killing the birds or plundering their nests. The birds are
trapped, shot, or poisoned, but their number does not seem to diminish.

"Somebody brought a daisy to Australia, as it is a very popular flower
in England, and was expected to remind the English settler of his old
home. It has spread very rapidly, and on thousands upon thousands of
acres it has rooted out the native grasses and taken full possession of
the soil. Another plant has a history which would be ludicrous if it
were not so serious, and that is the thistle."

"You mean the regular thistle, such as is known in England and the
United States?"

"I refer particularly to the Scotch thistle," said the gentleman, "which
is not particularly unlike the other thistles with which we are
familiar. You know that the thistle is the emblem of Scotland, and may
be said to be worshipped by all patriotic Scotchmen. Well, it happened
that a Scotch resident of Melbourne, while visiting the old country,
took it into his head to carry a thistle with him on his return to
Australia. So he placed the plant in a pot and watered it carefully
every day during the voyage from London to Melbourne. When he arrived
his performance was noticed in the newspapers, and a subscription dinner
was arranged in honor of the newly arrived plant. About two hundred
Scotchmen sat down to the dinner, at which the thistle was the
centerpiece and the great object of attraction. Speeches were made, and
the festivities continued to a late hour of the night. The next day the
thistle was planted with a great deal of ceremony, and more speeches in
the public garden at Melbourne, and it was carefully watched and tended
by the gardener, who happened to be a Scotchman.

"Well, the thistle blossomed and everybody rejoiced. You know how the
seeds of that plant are provided with down, that enables them to float
on the wind. The seeds of that thistle were borne on the breezes, and
all over the colony of Victoria they found a lodging in the soil, grew
and prospered, and sent out more seeds. That thistle has been the cause
of ruin to many a sheep and cattle run all over Australia. Thousands,
yes, millions, of acres of grass have been destroyed by that pernicious
weed. Anathemas without number and of the greatest severity have been
showered upon the thick-headed Scotchman who brought the plant to
Australia, and the other thick-headed Scotchmen who placed it in the
public garden.

"While I am on this subject," the gentleman continued, "I may as well
tell you of a very curious circumstance in New Zealand."

"What is that?"

"When the sheep farmers first established their business in the mountain
regions of New Zealand, they observed flocks of parrots occupying the
forest, and living entirely upon fruits and vegetables. They were very
pretty birds and nobody thought that any harm would come from them, in
view of their habits of life. The farmers used to kill some of their
sheep for food purposes, and leave the meat hanging out over night in
the cool air. It was observed that the parrots got in the habit of
coming down to the meat frames and picking off the layers of fat,
particularly those around the kidneys. Their fondness for this kind of
food seemed to increase as time went on, and they finally became such a
nuisance as to compel the herders to give up their practise of leaving
the meat out of doors in the night-time.

"After a while the farmers occasionally found the fattest and best of
their sheep dead or dying of wounds across the smaller part of the back
directly in the region of the kidneys. Nobody could tell how the wounds
were made, but it was evident that the mischief-makers were numerous, as
a good many sheep, always the finest of the flock, were killed. Finally,
one of the men employed about a sheep run ventured to suggest that it
must be done by the parrots. His suggestion was ridiculed so earnestly
that the man was sorry he had made it, but he gave as his reason for it
the fact that he had seen a parrot perched on the back of a sheep and
the bird flew away when he approached.

"Watchers were set over the sheep, and the suggestion of the man proved
to be the correct one. How the birds ever connected the existence of the
fat which they tore from the carcases on the meat frames with the
location of the same fat in the living animal, no one can tell, but
certain it is that they did so. It was found that a parrot bent on
securing a meal, would fasten his claws in the wool of the sheep, and
then with his powerful beak he would tear away the skin and flesh until
he reached the fat of which he was in search around the kidneys of the
struggling animal. It was impossible for the sheep to shake him off;
whether it ran or lay down and writhed in its agony, the bird retained
its hold until its object was accomplished."

"Of course this led to a war of extermination against the parrots, did
it not?"

"Certainly it did. As soon as the fact was well established the colonial
government offered a reward of one shilling for each parrot's head, and
the business of hunting these birds began at once. Formerly they used to
come freely into the presence of man, but now they shun him, and it is
very difficult to find them. They live in the forest, concealing
themselves in the daytime, and only coming out at night. In fact, their
depredations were committed in the night-time, and that is the reason
why their offences continued so long without being discovered."

"Did they cause great destruction among the flocks of sheep?"

"Yes, until they were found out and the war began against them they were
terribly destructive. One man lost two hundred sheep out of three
hundred, another lost nineteen out of twenty, and several others in the
same proportion. Even now, although the number of parrots is diminished
enormously, the flocks in the region where they abound lose at least two
per cent. every year from that cause."

"Is there any way of exterminating them by poison?"

"No way has been discovered as yet, as the birds are very cunning and
cannot be readily induced to take poisoned food. They are more wary in
this respect than rabbits and sparrows, as both of these creatures can
be poisoned, though the danger is that in attempting to poison them the
food is apt to be taken by domestic animals or fowls."

"Speaking of poisoning reminds me of an instance in Queensland some
years ago, where there was a large number of blacks inhabiting the
forest near a sheep station.

"The owner of the station had been greatly annoyed by the blacks, who
had killed many of his sheep, and in several instances had threatened
the shepherds with death, and driven them from their places. He
determined to get even with them, and this is the way he did it. He
loaded a cart with provisions such as flour, sugar, bacon, tea, and
other things, which were distributed to the shepherds once a week. Then
the cart started apparently on its round. Near the place where the
blacks were congregated one of the wheels of the cart came off, and at
the same time the vehicle became stuck in a gully. The driver took his
horses from the shafts and rode back to the station for help, leaving
the cart and its load unguarded.

"Here was a fine opportunity for the blacks to exercise their thieving
propensities, and they did not miss it. In less than an hour the cart
was stripped of everything edible, flour, sugar, and everything else
being carried away. When the driver returned, he found only the empty
vehicle with which to continue his journey.

"That afternoon the blacks had a grand feast over the stolen property.
All the members of the tribe came together and took part in the feast,
about two hundred in all. It so happened that everything edible had been
dosed with strychnine before the cart was loaded, and in a few hours
all who had partaken of the feast were dead. Much as the white people
around there had been annoyed by the blacks, there were few, if any, to
approve of this wholesale poisoning which the sheep owner had undertaken
entirely on his own responsibility."

"I suppose it is due in some measure, at least, to performances of this
sort that the blacks are diminishing in number," Dr. Whitney remarked.

"No doubt that has a good deal to do with the matter," was the reply. "I
don't know of any other instances than this of wholesale poisoning, but
I do know that in a good many instances, black men have been shot down
by whites for the reason that they had speared cattle or committed other
depredations. The blacks have been treated very much the same way as
your American Indians, and generally with as little provocation; but,
beyond all this, it is well known that the number of births among them
every year is considerably less than the number of deaths from natural
causes. Some people believe that the blacks are addicted to infanticide,
and that many of their children are put to death to save the expense of
bringing them up. Understand me, nobody knows positively that this is
the case, but only surmises it."




CHAPTER VIII.

CANNIBAL BLACKS--MELBOURNE AND ITS PECULIARITIES.


"I have heard," said one of the youths, "that Australian blacks are
cannibals. I wonder if that is really so?"

"Perhaps all the tribes in the country are not cannibals, but it is
pretty certain that some of them are. They know that the white man is
prejudiced against eating human flesh, and consequently they conceal
very carefully their performances in this line. In former times they
were not so particular, and there was the most positive proof that they
devoured their enemies killed in battle, and also killed and devoured
some of their own people. They were not such epicures in cannibalism as
the inhabitants of the Feejee Islands formerly were, and did not make as
much ceremony as the Feejeeans over their feasts of human flesh. Some of
the tribes that indulged in the practise have given it up, but the
belief is that those in the interior still adhere to it."

"What do they live upon when they do not eat human flesh?" queried Ned.

"As to that," was the reply, "they live upon pretty nearly everything
they can lay their hands on. They hunt the kangaroo and are fond of its
flesh, and they are also fond of the flesh of cattle and sheep. In fact,
they commit a good many depredations upon the flocks and herds. They
eat snakes, lizards, toads, and, in fact, anything that lives and moves,
and they are not at all particular about the condition of the meat when
they eat it. It is all the same to them whether it is fresh or putrid. A
man would need have a very strong stomach to accept an invitation to
take dinner with a family of uncivilized blacks, or even with one that
had become civilized."

While this conversation was going on the train was speeding on its way,
and Harry observed that the houses were becoming more numerous, and the
country more densely occupied, as they came nearer to Melbourne.
Occasionally they caught sight of a house which looked like a
gentleman's residence rather than like an ordinary farmhouse, and he
called attention to the circumstance.

"We are approaching Melbourne," said their traveling companion, "and
from this point on you will find a good many country seats of gentlemen
who do business in the city. It is cooler here in summer than in
Melbourne, and a great many people have established their summer homes
in this region. It is so much the fashion, that it has become obligatory
for the well-to-do citizen to have a town residence and a country one,
and his establishment is considered incomplete unless he possesses both.
A good many people occupy their country homes for the greater part of
the year, going back and forth by railway according to the requirements
of their business. It is the same in New York, London, and other great
cities all over the world. Melbourne considers itself just as important
as any other city, and I believe it claims to be the tenth city of the
world in point of population."

Ned asked what the population of the city was.

To this the gentleman replied that he did not have the exact figures at
hand, but he believed the last census gave the number of inhabitants as
very nearly half a million. "Including the suburbs," said he, "I think
it is fully that, and if it had not been for the dullness of business
for the last two or three years, caused very largely by the labor
strikes and other disturbances of trade, I think we would now exceed the
half million figure."

While he was saying this, Ned called attention to a large house on a
little eminence about half a mile away, which resembled a palace more
than it did a private dwelling. As Ned pointed towards it and told Harry
to look in that direction, the gentleman said:--

"That house was built ten or twelve years ago by a millionaire merchant
of Melbourne. He spent a great deal of money upon it, being determined
to have the finest house in the country. About the time of its
completion he met with heavy losses in business, and was unable to carry
out his plans concerning the grounds around the building. It was his
original intention to have a park, in which he would enclose specimens
of all the animals of Australia, and an artificial lake, with specimens
of all the fishes of the country. He has never carried out this part of
the scheme, but declares that he will do so whenever his wealth returns
to him."

"A very good scheme, indeed," said one of the youths, "and I hope the
gentleman will be able to carry it out."

"Yes; and I hope so, too," was the reply. "The place would be made
interesting if he should do so, but, after all, you can see the same
thing in the parks of the principal cities of Australia. Each has, I
believe, collections of the animals of the country, together with many
animals of other countries, and any one is at full liberty to go and see
them."

Houses became more numerous, and towns and villages made their
appearance as the train went along. Harry observed that in some of the
towns which they passed through there were imposing buildings, which
seemed rather out of proportion to the number of dwelling-houses.

Their impromptu guide explained that this was the outgrowth of
Australian politics. "Every town in Australia," said he, "is desirous of
having some of the public money spent within its limits. It wants a
courthouse, jail, or some other public edifice, and in order to secure
his election to the legislature, a candidate is compelled to promise
that he will obtain the desired appropriation. These appropriations are
secured by what you call in America 'logrolling.' That is, Smith of one
town makes an arrangement with Brown, Jones, Robinson, and I don't know
how many others of as many other towns that he will vote for their
appropriations, provided they will vote for his. In this way a town of
five hundred inhabitants gets a courthouse and jail large enough for a
population of five thousand, or perhaps twice that number. A great deal
of government money has been wasted in this way, but there is no help
for it as long as human nature remains as it is."

This led to a little talk on Australian politics, in which the youths
learned that the people were divided into parties very much as in
England and the United States, and their quarrels were just as fierce.
The party in power is always bitterly denounced by the party out of
power, and the outs can always demonstrate how much better they could
manage public affairs than the ins are doing it. The great questions
usually before the people are the tariff and public improvements, and
the fiercest fights are usually those concerning the tariff.

Protectionists and free traders are just as skillful and just as earnest
as the same parties in the United States, and each can demonstrate
mathematically how much better its own system is than that of the other
side. The colonies are themselves divided on the subject of tariff, all
of them favoring protection with the exception of New South Wales, where
the free traders are in the majority.

There has been a great deal of talk about a federation of the colonies,
but the stumbling-block in the way of it is the difference in the
colonial tariff. Federation would have been brought about years ago had
it not been for New South Wales and its free trade policy.

Ned and Harry started to take some notes on the subject of the tariff,
but the doctor reminded them that they had better leave the subject
alone, as it was a dangerous one to touch. Consequently they have not
given us the benefit of their notes upon it, and we are unable to say
what conclusion they reached.

At its appointed time the train reached Melbourne, and our friends found
themselves in the spacious station of the railway company.

As soon as they could get their baggage, our friends proceeded to a
hotel which had been recommended to them, and which they found quite
satisfactory. After securing rooms they went out for a stroll, having
been advised to take a promenade along Collins Street. Harry said he was
sure that the street had been named after somebody who was prominent in
the early history of the colony, at least, he felt that such was the
case if Melbourne had followed the example of Adelaide.

"Melbourne was founded before Adelaide was," said Dr. Whitney, "as the
first settlement was made here in 1835, a year before the first
settlement was made in Adelaide; but, all the same, your theory is
correct. Collins Street was named after Colonel Collins, who established
a convict settlement in this vicinity as far back as 1803, but for some
reason he gave it up a year or two later, and transferred his convicts
and their guards to Tasmania."

"The next street parallel to this," said Ned, "is Bourke Street. I
wonder who Bourke was?"

"Bourke was the governor of the colony in 1836," the doctor replied,
"and that is why he was honored with a street."

"We know about Captain Flinders," said Harry, "after whom Flinders
Street was named. He was a daring explorer who accompanied Captain Bass
when the latter discovered Bass's Strait, that separates Australia from
Tasmania. There is also a range of mountains named after him."

"Captain Lonsdale, who was in command of some of the troops at the time
that the city was laid out," said the doctor, "was honored with a
street, and Swanston Street commemorates one of the early settlers. Then
there are King Street, Queen Street, William Street, Elizabeth Street,
which explain themselves, as they indicate the feelings of the early
settlers towards the royal family."

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