BEAUTIES OF THE BUSH. 185 blackbird, lark, or linnet here, but only parrots of all kinds, and of every imaginable note, the magpie or pyetlark with its clear mavis-like pipe, and the mocking-bird imitating them all the music is harsh, yet, from their numbers, their notes blend into a pleasing cheerful sound -the shades of the glens, and brightness of the ranges, the solitude, and the grandeur of the lofty mountains, contribute to compose a beautiful and very pleasing spot. Bushrangers have not troubled us: it is supposed that there are none at present in these parts; and we now retire to our beds without inspecting our guns. Yet to an active mind, the most perfect security, and retreat from our fellow-beings' intrusion and from the world, is not enough to satisfy, even when the mind has been care-worn, or the heart seared with the heated iron of unhappiness. Man is by nature a gregarious animal; and the mind, to retain its elasticity, and the features which distinguish him from "the brutes that perish," must have other minds to discourse with. Exchange of ideas, through books or men, is necessary. We have neither, to any extent here; and I fear that the lonely woods, the murmuring burn, the raven's melancholy croak, the bleating of the flocks, the lowing of the herds, but cherish feelings, reminiscences, and anxieties, that were better left dormant or subdued altogether, and are inimical to the due exercise of our energies and faculties. It is dangerous for either youth or age to be too much in society, and in the world, as it is called; it is also not well to be too much alone; as with the body, so with the mind, there is mental health in mental activity. For lack of better occupation in this complete impri sonment, we have been adding a coach-house! (save the mark!) and a stable, to our outworks; very rude erections certainly, but still such as are considered sufficient in this climate. For my own part, I conceive that the changes of climate here are fully as great as at home, and more instantaneous; and that the deluges of rain that do occasionally fall, the dust that almost constantly fills the air and penetrates everywhere, the heat by day and the cold by night, require as perfect dwellings both for man and beast as in other lands. It is true that the thermometer seldom or never stands at Sydney in winter (May, June, and July,) below 40°, and that the average is about 53°; that the average temperature of summer, (November, December, and January,) is somewhere about 74° in the shade; and that there is a dryness in the air that is singularly salubrious. It is certain also that we have not the extreme of heat known in India, nor the cold of northern latitudes; but still we have occasional days of overwhelming heat, when the mercury will rise in the shade to 85°, and fall in the night to 53°; and, not to mention our minuter foes, the insects, we have hurricane winds, that might be excluded by more substantial and closer workmanship. I have great pleasure, even here, in seeing order spring out of confusion, and the necessary accommodation arise where it is wanting, albeit not of the Doric, Ionic, or Corinthian order of architecture. I have also tried to bring things out of doors into some shape and neatness; but the mass of fallen wood is so great, that it is a disheartening undertaking. The different sorts of wood, too, are so very hard, that to saw them into pales is a labour of great difficulty. The common saw has little effect upon them; splitting is the only mode of reducing the iron bark or stringy bark tree to an available size for useful purposes, after it has been cut into lengths with the long saw. Neat fences of rails, therefore, I cannot procure; and I am often obliged to content myself with fancying what I could do were the place mine, and the means within command of making it what it is capable of being made. Another day is gone, and still no tidings of my horses. I have lost faith in the searching abilities of white men, and have employed a dark brother to trace them, and offered a reward for their recovery; which last is, perhaps, the only chance of ever seeing them again. My travels are now limited indeed. One of has fallen lame, and the other he is obliged to hunt the country upon himself, and I am thus a close captive. Here at the antipodes we have names of men geogra phically immortalised, who not only ruled England, but have overruled the destinies of nations from pole to pole, and have caused the imperial circlet of Britain to be feared and respected, if not beloved, wherever grass grows or waters run. We have Wellington Valley, and the town of Melbourne; Peel River, and O'Connell Plains; Goulburn, Bathurst, Aberdeen, and Liverpool; Glenelg River, and Chatham Bay. But we have no recollection of Fox, Sheridan, or Burke! There is but little sport in Australia. None of the Lady Abbess of St. Alban's legitimate game are to be found. "The first of them is the hart, The second is the hare, The bore is one of tho, The wolf, and not one moe." Some time ago, when times were good, there existed what was called the Cumberland hunt: they pursued the native dog, which always made a capital run; and the 188 HUNTING IN THE BUSH. kangaroo. But that meritorious fraternity has been broken up; and horse-racing seems to be almost the only bond of union among sportsmen. The hunting of the roo was generally a quick affair: he made a tremendous burst, leaping, not running, with incredible speed; but it was soon over. The native dog afforded another description of chase, giving a long run, and occasionally, very nervous work. Galloping in the forest required the most constant exercise of eye and hand imaginable; and the poor wight was truly to be pitied, whose nag was not fine in the mouth;-the pace was tremendous, and he was a fortunate, as well as a skilful man, that descended from his saddle unscathed. The bushman's pursuit of his wild and wandering bullocks is now the nearest approach in New South Wales to Melton, and a most perilous affair it is. Not only does the bullock turn and double so rapidly that your horse must be able to do the same, and you be ever prepared for turning an acute angle, or for a fall to the earth, or against a tree; but, when roused, the fellow will generally turn and charge. This is an almost daily occupation with stockmen; and though a very exciting pastime, one of the most dangerous occupations of the bush. The whip is the only weapon used, and a most terrible one it is, in an experienced hand,-it will cut the flesh clean out, and the sound is as loud as the report of a gun. The whip is about six yards long, and thick in proportion, with a short handle not above two feet in length. A crack will gather a herd together from opposite sides of a range; for they have a wholesome apprehension of its powers in the brawny arm of the stockman. We have here none of the extraordinary animals peculiar to Australia, such as that singular creature the Orni ANIMALS IN AUSTRALIA. 189 thorhynchus Paradoxus, with the body of a quadruped, and the bill of a duck. I saw one at the house of my talented friend, Mr. Roach, in Sydney, who devotes himself to the collection of all the most rare and beautiful productions of the country, in all classes of natural history. It is of the size of a rabbit, but in shape like a mole, with feet similarly placed; it has a coat of close short dark brown hair, and a flat black beak exactly like a duck's in form; its habits are those of a quadruped; it is without exception the most extraordinary production of this extraordinary country. Neither the horse, the ox, the sheep, the goat, the ass, the fox, the hare, nor the rabbit, are natives of New Holland. The kangaroo-in its various species, from those six feet in height down to the kangaroo rat-the opossum, and the native dog, are the only four-footed inhabitants of any importance in its forests. The emu is not game, but is a noble bird, larger than the ostrich, and taller, but of the same genus; and resembling it in shape and plumage, in the droop of its plumage rather, for it is of a peculiar dirty grayish brown colourit runs very swiftly, and is with difficulty overtaken by a horseman at full speed. It has no tongue; its note is peculiar and hollow; one tone, that seems to come from its stomach, as it were, sounds like the fall of a bucket in a well. I have seen one of these birds that was considerably taller than I am. The bustard or wild turkey, the bronze-wing pigeon, and the quail, are common, and afford good sport, and good eating. The quails are very plentiful, and at evening the pigeons are to be found on the branches of the trees; unaccustomed to the sight of the white man, they allow us to approach very close. The snipe, too, is found, but I have only seen one. These, I think, are the only animals, or birds of any kind, that afford either sport or food to man, in the forests of Australia. |