CHAPTER VII.

"Till taught by pain, Men really know not what good water's worth."

BYRON.

The reader will remember Tom Rainsfield's journey to town had been delayed for some time beyond when he had originally intended to start owing to the precarious state of Eleanor's health; consequently, when he took his departure, it was necessary for him to use speed in his travelling.

The summer had by that time considerably advanced, and the country had suffered much from the continued drought that had prevailed for months. Rain was anxiously and hopingly looked for, and a pluvial visitation would have been hailed by the entire population with satisfaction. Tom, as he journeyed, saw this desideratum more plainly than before leaving home; for, as he mounted on to the extensive plains contiguous to the source of the Gibson river, the parched bare soil became perfectly uncomfortable to travel on.

These plains were of fine black alluvial soil, so thinly timbered as to have hardly a tree visible within range of the eye. They were covered with grass, which, when the earth contained any moisture, flourished luxuriantly, and would at times stand waving like an agrarian picture of cereal plenty, so abundant as to impede the progress of the equestrian traveller. But now a "change had come o'er the spirit of the dream," and the herbous mass lay scorched and dry on the arid ground, offering no nutriment to the browsing kine, and only requiring a single spark to generate a grand combustion.

Much has been said and written of the burning prairies of America, and of the bush-fires of Australia; and we may remark, it is in such places as these plains where they originate. Though not so extensive and destructive in their course of devastation as those fearful conflagrations in the western hemisphere, the bush-fires are still frequently of sufficient magnitude to be perfectly irresistible; and occurring as they usually do in the heart of a settled country, they are rendered more dangerous to human life and property. How they originate often remains a mystery. Of course carelessness frequently gives rise to them; though at the same time they have been known to occur in parts where neither whites nor blacks ever tread; and too often, when the destroying element rages over and sweeps away a homestead or a farm, the work is attributed to the incendiarism of some inoffensive blacks, who are made to suffer at the hands of the whites.

Tom Rainsfield journeyed on his course over these plains that looked like a vast neglected hay-field; except in parts where water had lodged and formed temporary ponds or "water-holes." There it presented an area of black mud, baked hard by the power of the sun, and had absorbed so much of its heat as to render it even painful for a horse to stand upon. Tom rode under vertical rays, keeping as much as possible on the withered grass (as being more comfortable than the sun-absorbing and reflecting road), without the companionship of a fellow traveller to relieve the monotony and solitude of the way; and not daring to indulge in the consolation of a pipe, lest a stray spark should ignite the inflammable material at his feet. Miles and miles of this weary and trying travelling were passed, and Tom was not sorry when the track entered a country less open, and he once more rode through bush land.

Here, too, the ground, though partially sheltered from the sun's rays, was equally devoid of feed and moisture. Not a blade of grass was to be seen, nor a drop of water in the creeks and water-holes. For himself, notwithstanding that his thirst was insatiable, Tom cared little; he could manage to do without a drink until he reached the end of his day's stage; but it was for the faithful animal that carried him that he anxiously scrutinized every spot likely to contain the smallest reservoir of the much coveted liquid. But his researches were all unavailing; as yet no water could he find; until at one point on the road, when he had almost given up the search as hopeless, he spied a large swamp filled with reeds, in which a herd of cattle lay almost concealed, apparently cooling themselves in the water. Here then he had no doubt he should find what he and his horse had so much desired; and hastening on to the black adamantine margin of what had formerly been a large lagoon, he witnessed a sight that struck him with dismay. Not one drop of water was visible in the extensive basin, and the cattle which he had imagined were luxuriating in a natural refrigerator, were dead and immovable.

Such scenes are common under similar circumstances; and at times, while the country is suffering from the effects of a drought, to see cattle "bogged" in a water-hole is only thought of as a necessary consequence fully expected, and therefore hardly to be deplored. Still when witnessed by one who may be seeking that which is essential to life, to allay a thirst which may be consuming, it is enough to make the heart of such sink within him; and, though Tom was hardly in so reduced a predicament, yet he could not gaze on the unfortunate animals without some unpleasant admixture of perturbation and concern.

In the swamp as many as fifty cattle had sought shelter from the heat and moisture for their thirsty tongues. But having waded through the mud, into which they had sank to their middles, they had possibly satisfied themselves for the moment with a concoction of glutinous soil and vapid lukewarm water; but, from their exhausted strength, had not been able to extricate themselves from their miry bondage, and had consequently died in their captivity. The mud at the time of Tom's visit had perfectly hardened, and he traversed the whole bed of the swamp, in the vain hope of finding some friendly hole in which a few welcome drops might be found for his worn-out steed. But his search was fruitless, and he was at last reluctantly compelled to relinquish it, from the attacks of myriads of flies, who were disturbed at their bovine repast. He at length continued his journey with a worn-out horse and a fagged and jaded spirit, and was not a little grateful, as evening gathered its shades around, to espy the glimmer of a light from the station which was his night's destination.

Tom's further progress was equally tedious and trying. The whole country seemed parched up, and it was with the greatest difficulty he could push on at all; and as the fatigue to himself and his horse necessitated him to make his day's stages much shorter than he desired, it was the sixth day from his leaving Strawberry Hill that he entered the village of Waverley on the Brisbane river.

When we call this a village it is only out of courtesy that we are guilty of such a misnomer. For though, by the government plan of the township, it looks a well-arranged and thriving place, we must state, notwithstanding that building allotments had from time to time been put up at auction by the government, and we may add found purchasers, and that the existence of a public-house, rejoicing in the high-sounding title of the Royal Hotel, lent an imposing air to the place,--the gracefully tinted Queen Street, Albert Street, Prince of Wales Street, etc. etc., of the elaborate survey office map, only existed in the mind of the surveyor, and the imagination of the land-jobber. The said thriving thoroughfares remained in a state of primeval grandeur; having their boundaries marked, for the convenience of inquisitive seekers after information, by small pegs driven into the ground, and whose sole object seemed to be to lie concealed and bewilder those who might desire to find them.

By the foresaid plan this town or village (or, as the Americans would say, this city) of Waverley was laid out with considerable taste. The streets were all broad and at right angles; with a market reserve; grants for church sites to various denominations of Christians; and a broad quay facing the river, either for commercial purposes or for a promenade for the inhabitants. But in reality the whole of the architecture of the place was comprised in the sole habitation, the Royal Hotel; which was built near the bank of the river, with a rough fence enclosing three sides of a piece of ground that ran down to the water's edge. This constituted the paddock for the horses of weary travellers; and, judging from the dilapidated and generally insecure state of the fence, argued the rare occurrence of a quadrupedal occupancy. However, the sight of these little imperfections gave Tom no concern, as he was confident his animal would not attempt, in the state of fatigue to which he was reduced, to go roaming; and what gladdened his heart more than anything was the sight of what he had long been unacquainted with, fresh water. It was therefore with a considerable amount of mental relief that he rode up to the unpretending hostlery. He alighted at a door before which stood a post suspending a nondescript lamp of antideluvian construction, and bearing from its appearance questionable evidence of its ever having been submitted to the ordeal of beaconing the path of the weary traveller. On the same post was affixed a board on which the sign of the house was very plainly executed in Roman character; informing, and we think very necessarily so, the occasional visitor there was to be had accommodation for man and beast.

The road leading to the Royal Hotel was not the one usually taken by travellers from the interior to Brisbane. But Tom had chosen it to avoid the more frequented track; knowing that in the present state of the country travelling on the latter would be much more difficult and troublesome. Therefore he had come by this secluded spot; intending to cross the river, and travel down by the northern bank to Brisbane, while the usual route was through the thriving and populous town of Ipswich, and down the southern side of the Brisbane river.

Tom Rainsfield entered the inn; and having his horse taken round by the landlord to a bark shed designated a stable, where he preferred tending the animal himself, rather than leaving him to the tender mercies of a stranger, he gave him a drink of water and a feed of corn; and then placing some bush hay at his disposal, left him to practise his mastication, and make the most of his time. Having thus arranged for the comforts of his steed Tom next thought of himself; so strolling into the house, while something was preparing to satisfy the cravings of his inward man, he walked into "the bar," to indulge in a pipe with something cheering, and amuse himself by a little conversation with the landlord. He entered the precincts of that _quarterre_ devoted to the worship of the rosy god, and where the ministering spirit presided, stationed behind a primitive sort of counter or bench, and at whose back stood two kegs with taps and sundry bottles arranged on a shelf. These (whatever their contents) appeared to be the stock-in-trade of the establishment; excepting a large cask which stood in a corner, and which by its appearance indicated spirituous contents, from whose bulk probably the smaller kegs were from time to time replenished. Into this sanctum then walked our friend Tom Rainsfield, and after calling for a drink, and desiring the landlord in bush fashion to join him, he lit his pipe; and taking his seat on the counter entered into the following dialogue.

"I shouldn't think you did much business here?"

"Oh, pretty fair, sir."

"Why, there doesn't appear to be many who frequent this room. I should have thought it would have hardly been worth your while to have kept a house in this place."

"Nor more it would if I lived by gents a-stopping at my house; for I don't get one of 'em a month. But you see them as pays me is the sawyers; there are lots of 'em about these parts, cutting timber on the hills and in the scrubs; and when they get their logs down into the river they mostly stop here a while drinking before they raft the timber over the flats on their way down to the mills. Then when they come back they generally stop a while on the spree before they go to work. So, you see, I makes a pretty good thing out of 'em; besides you see I keeps rations here as well as grog, and sell them to the fellers when they run short and ain't got no money."

"But don't you often lose your money? I suppose they have none when they go to town with their rafts, and very little when they come back; that is even if they ever do come back; then I suppose you lose your score."

"Oh, I manage to get it; precious few ever 'bilk' me, for I know my marks pretty well, and them as I fancy won't come back I get to pay me in timber; and I brand the logs with my own brand, and give some of the fellers I can trust so much a hundred feet to raft them down for me. But mostly the chaps come back before they have spree'd away all their money. So I gets my share, as they pay me then what they owe me, and have another go in until they 'knock down their pile.'"

"And how much do their 'piles' consist of?"

"Well, I couldn't say anything regular. I have had as much as a hundred pounds 'knocked down' by one man at a time." And as the man said this he smiled and heaved a sigh that seemed to say those were prosperous times for him. True enough it was that he had had as large a sum of money paid to him by one man; but as to the amount being actually spent, or an equivalent even in liquor supplied, is extremely doubtful; but to follow them in their conversation, Tom remarked:

"And then they return to their work, I suppose, quite penniless?"

"Oh, yes, it is very few of them ever have any money when they get back to the scrubs; they have no use for it there, so they spend it like men."

"Like fools you mean."

"No I don't. What is the use of the poor man saving his money? he can't do anything with it; he can't buy any land to settle on; and he doesn't care to save up his money to be robbed of it or lose it; he works hard enough to get it, and so likes to spend it himself."

"That is certainly one idea why working men should spend their hard-got earnings. I should have imagined that men who had laboured hard, and were living in the bush and scrubs in all sorts of discomfort, would have had some desire to better their condition, and would have accumulated means accordingly."

"Not a bit of it, sir! they couldn't do anything with their money when they got it."

"Could they not buy a piece of land and commence farming? Here, for instance, the land seems excellently adapted for agricultural purposes."

"They can't get none, sir. The government folks won't sell any to the poor man, leastwise the poor man can't buy none, and if he wants any he is forced to buy it off the 'jobbers,' who generally screw him so much that it doesn't pay. So the fellers prefer keeping to the scrubs cutting timber; 'cos then they are not bound to work for sharpers, and can just please themselves."

It was evident the landlord of the Royal Hotel did not classify himself in the category of those astute blades whom he designated by so cutting an epithet; though Tom's opinion on that head somewhat differed from "mine host's." He considered him a swindler of no ordinary magnitude, though merely a type of his class. He was one of those locusts who fattened on the hard working and reckless classes of colonial labourers; who when they are plundering their victims, even under the guise of friendship, dissuade them from frugality; expatiating on the numerous sources of fraud (excepting of course their own) to which "the poor men" would be exposed; and by their vile persuasions and chicanery too often succeeding in eliminating from the minds of those with whom they come in contact all notions of providence; and confirming them in their reckless and dissipated lives. These bush publicans are the cause of immense misery and depravity, and cannot be too harshly stigmatized for the enormity of their infamies.

Tom being informed that the edibles prepared for him were awaiting his operations discontinued his dialogue, and adjourned to his epicurean repast; at which satisfactory occupation we may leave him uninterrupted. As his next day's stage would only be some five and twenty miles he determined to delay his departure until the afternoon so as to give his weary horse some additional rest; and it was therefore past noon on the following day when he mounted his nag and left the village of Waverley.

In leaving the inn he traversed the bank of the river for some few hundred yards on his way to the flats where he was to cross when he overtook a man that apparently had preceded him from the inn, and they both went on together. The flats at this time were almost dry; for the water in the river had long ceased to run, and at the particular spot to which we allude, which was in ordinary times used as a ford, it could have been crossed dry-shod, while above and below it the river remained simply currentless pools. As Tom rode down to the bed of the river he was struck with the immense number of logs that laid scattered about, some on the banks, some in the river above, and some below, where a small boat was moored, and a party of sawyers and raftmen camped. To this party Tom's companion evidently belonged, and had apparently been despatched to the public-house by his mates, as he was returning with two suspicious-looking protuberances on each side of his bosom. These, to outward appearance, very much resembled the outlines of bottles that had been thrust into the ample folds of his blue shirt for convenience and security of carriage. While trudging on the road alongside of Tom Rainsfield the fellow gave evidence of a loquacious turn of mind by commencing a conversation and inquiring if Tom was travelling to Brisbane. Upon being informed by our friend that that was his destination, and that he had come by way of Waverley to avoid the main road on account of its desolate, dry, and feedless state, he remarked with a whimsical smile: "I suppose you think that 'ere Waverley a fine town?"

"It seems a very good site for a township," replied Tom. "There is good land in the vicinity, and abundance of water. I daresay in the course of a few years it will be a flourishing place."

"Not a bit of it, sir," said the man; "it never will be nothing. That 'ere house of Tom Brown's, 'The Royal,' as he calls it, will be the only house in it for many a day, unless there be another public. Lor' bless you, sir, that place of his even wouldn't be nothing if it wasn't for us sawyers; we keeps old Brown alive, and he knows it."

"Well, my good friend," asked Tom, "what is to prevent others settling in the town besides Tom Brown?"

"Why, what would be the good of it?" asked the other; "there would be nothing for them to live upon. All the trade that's done is with us sawyers, and there isn't more than Old Brown can do himself. Besides, you see, most of the land that has been sold in the village has been bought by the swells, who keep it to make money of it when some one should want to buy."

"I have no doubt," said Tom, "the land in the vicinity will eventually be sold for farming, and then the growth of the village arising from the trade that will ensue will be rapid."

"Ah! there it is, sir. You see the squatters have got all the land now for their sheep to feed on, and a poor man as has got a pound or two, and wants a few acres, can't get 'em no how."

"But the government is continually putting up land for sale," said Tom; "and if any man desired to avail himself of the opportunity surely he could attend the sales and effect a purchase."

"No, sir, they couldn't," said the man; "for, you see, suppose I'm working here in the bush and want to buy a bit of ground, how am I to know when there is any for sale? They will perhaps mark out a few farms near Brisbane, or Ipswich, and put 'em for sale, and they are sold off, or leastwise the best of 'em, before I or any of my mates know anything about it; or if so be as how I should get to hear of it and go to the sale, there's so many people wanting 'em, perhaps gents who maybe live in town, and want paddocks for their horses, that they will give better prices than I can give; so, you see, I don't get half a chance. If I want a bit of land to farm I think I ought to be able to get it anywhere I like just as easy as the squatter can get his country. Axing your pardon, sir, I suppose you're a squatter?"

"That's true, my good man," replied Tom; "but I think myself that the restrictions on the land are vastly injurious to the country, though I doubt, even if every facility was given to the working man to procure land if he would avail himself of the opportunity; and, instead of being of benefit to him in the way intended, I question if the land would not fall into the hands of 'jobbers.' Such a state of things is equally, if not more, to be deprecated than the present system of permitting it to remain in the possession of the squatters; for now it is made available for pasturage; whereas then it would be allowed to lie unproductive until such a time as the speculator could see an opportunity of a profitable realization."

"There would be plenty of us would buy lands and settle on them," said the man, "if we only had the chance. Now if you like, sir, I'll just tell you a case."

Tom, though he knew all the man said was perfectly true, offered no objection to the narrative, being desirous of eliciting from him his notions on the subject, which was a much vexed one in the whole colony, and purposely encouraged him to launch as deeply into it as he thought fit.

"It is about my brother, sir," said the man, "so I know it is quite true, and you may believe it. We both came to this country together about seven years ago, and took to cutting timber and rafting because it paid well those times; and we made plenty of money, though we spent it as fast as we got it. But somehow my brother didn't join much with the other fellows, for he always was a steady chap, but took to saving his money, and 'you may believe me,' it wasn't long before he had got 'a pile,' of more than two hundred pounds. Now, sir, you see, when Bill (that was his name) had saved all that money nothing would do him but he must have a bit of ground and commence farming. There was a talk then of some land being marked out somewhere near this 'ere town of Waverley; so Bill thought he would like to have a few acres hereabouts better than anywhere else. He asked some one who knew all about that sort of thing how he should go about it to buy some, and the chap told him that he ought to go to Brisbane and ask of the surveyors. So off he went to what they call the survey office, and told the big-wig there that he wanted to buy some land. Now this card showed him a lot of plans of where, he said, they had land for sale; and Bill looks at 'em and took directions, and went into the bush to have a look at 'em. But he found 'em to be no good; they was only lots that had been left at the government sales, when all the best pieces had been sold, and the ironbark ranges and quartzy or barren gravelly country left; so he wouldn't buy any of 'em, and told the chap in the office that he wanted some at Waverley; but he told him he couldn't have none there as it wasn't surveyed.

"Now the party Bill stopped with put him up to a wrinkle how he would get the land he wanted to be surveyed 'cos he knew how to manage it. He got up a requisition, or made an application, to have some lands on the Brisbane river at Waverley surveyed and put up for sale, and sent it to the government, as he said that was the sure way to get it. But it was no go; the survey chaps told him that all the land thereabouts was leased to squatters, and they couldn't touch it; but, says they, if you want a nice piece of country there is some out here on the river, about five miles away, that we are going to measure off into farms directly, and they will just suit you; so, says they to my brother, just you go out and have a look at them. Well, Bill went to look at 'em, and, sure enough, they was first-rate land, so he said to himself I'll have a farm there, and that's settled. But he was all wrong; for he didn't get a farm there an' nowhere else as I shall tell you.

"When he came back, after having see'd the land, he went to the office and told the people that that place would just suit him, and he would take a farm and buy it right off. But they laughed at him, and told him that he couldn't buy it before it was surveyed, but that in a short time, a week or so at most, they would have it all right and ready for sale; so Bill thought he might make the best of it and wait. A couple of weeks passed and he went to them, but it was not done; so he waited another week or two, and went back again, when they told him that they had had no time to see to it, but were going to do so very shortly. So he waited another month, and then enquired, when they had the cheek to tell him that they were obliged to put it off for they could not attend to it at all, having so much work to do at other places; but that if he would come back to town in about three months it would be all ready for sale.

"Now Bill was bent upon having one of them farms, so, instead of letting the surveyor chaps, and the farms too, go to--where-ever they liked for their humbugging, he came back to the bush to work for the three months, and then went to town again to look after the land. But when he went to the office even then the fellers hadn't surveyed it; and instead of telling him like men that they were only humbugging him, and never intended to do it at all, they commenced their little games again, and told him that the surveyors were then at work on a particular job, but that as soon as they were done there they would go to the land he was waiting for. Well, sir, it's no good my telling you all the ins and outs of it; but the long and the short of it is they kept Bill in a string for six months, and then they didn't do the work, and I don't know if it is done now; so, you see, that's how us poor men can't get any land."

"I believe what you complain of is perfectly true," said Tom. "The system is much to be deplored, but I hope it will shortly be improved. Unless a man is on the spot, and can wait for an opportunity, such as when a sale occurs, there is certainly very little chance for him; and men that are employed in the bush very rarely if ever have that chance."

"Just so, sir," said the man.

"And what did your brother do with his money after having so much of it and his time wasted in looking after this land?"

"Ah, sir! there is what makes me curse the land, and the surveyors, and all the lot, for it killed Bill, and there never was a better feller breathing. I'll tell you how it was, sir. I told you Bill was a steady chap; he never used to drink, anyhow not to spree, you know; but, you'll guess, no man could stop at a public-house for six months doing nothing without getting on the spree. Bill used to walk up and down on the verandah at the public where he stopped, and smoke his pipe, while he thought how them fellers at the survey office were a-treating of him, and he got miserable like in his spirits. So when fellows got to know him, and used to come into the house, they'd ask him to take a nobbler with them; and somehow, you see, though he didn't do nothing of the sort at first, he was soon glad to get some one to join him in a drink, and being at it all day, you know, he used to get very drunk at times; so he went on until at last he was always drunk. Now Bill all this time had been keeping his money by him, so that he would be ready, when he wanted it, to buy his farm. So, what with always having plenty of money 'to shout' for other fellers (for you know, sir, he was a stunning feller to shout when he got a little bit screwed), and the lots of fellers as always stuck to him when they knew he got 'tin,' he very soon got 'cleared out;' and one day, after a tremendous spree, when he had been drunk for more than a week, he got 'the horrors,' and started to come home to the scrub. I never saw him after that, sir; for he got drowned in one of the creeks on the road, and was found by some shingle splitters soon afterwards without a shilling in his pocket; so that's what he got, poor fellow, for trying to turn farmer. Now you see, sir, we don't see the good of doing like that; so we never trouble ourselves about saving any money, and we are a deal better off, and a happier, than them as do."

Tom did not attempt to refute the sophistry of this argument as he was aware that it would be useless. He knew that the case of this man's brother was by no means a solitary one; for not only had the suicidal policy of the colonial government with regard to the disposal of the waste lands been instrumental in the destruction of numerous victims similar to this unsophisticated sawyer; but it was absolutely driving that entire class of men into reckless extravagance and dissipation. Whereas a liberal land policy would not only have engendered a spirit of providence, but have offered an inducement, and have proved a stimulus, to the country's settlement by a thriving rural population.

But the ministerial Solons of the country could not be induced to view the subject in that light; hence this deplorable state of morality and improvidence, which unfortunately pervades the great bulk of the country population. In urban localities the evil is not so severely felt, as a steady and industrious mechanic, with his accumulated savings, is enabled to purchase a town allotment (which allotments are just frequently enough thrust into the market by the government as to keep the demand in excess of the supply), and to build on it a house, which he erects by degrees, as his means admit. Thereby, in course of a short time, he gathers round him in the land of his adoption a comfortable little freehold property. Thus it is, nearly all the town workmen who are possessed of any savings convert them into something substantial; but for the bushmen no such opportunity exists; and hence it follows, that the towns-people are generally industrious, steady, and frugal, while those of the bush are too frequently the reverse.

"That certainly was a melancholy end for your brother," said Tom to his companion, resuming the conversation that had lapsed for a few minutes.

"Yes, sir, it was; and if Bill, poor fellow, had just been content to stick to the scrub like us he would most likely have been 'still to the fore.' You see, sir, we live a jolly life; are quite contented, and spend our money while we've got it. Now those fellows over there," continued the man as he pointed to the sawyer's camp, in sight of which they had just arrived, "not one of 'em would give up his life to go and work in town if you paid him ever so high wages."

"I've no doubt their mode of life is fascinating; but still I should think the heavy drinking in which they indulge sometimes impairs their health and constitution."

"Not a bit, sir! We never feel anything the worse for a spree, nor in anyways sick; 'cos you see we work hard, and most always live in the bush; so we are always healthy."

"I've no doubt that will preserve you in a great measure; but still you must be perfectly aware that, even if you never experience any deleterious effects, you continually leave yourself destitute; and if anything in the way of sickness should happen to you, so as to incapacitate you for work, you would not only starve, but die from neglect and want of proper treatment.

"Don't you believe it, sir! There would be no fear of my wanting anything. Do you think if one of my mates was sick now that I wouldn't share with him what money I'd got, or that I wouldn't look after him as if he was my brother? In course I would, and if I got sick my mates would do the same for me."

By this time Tom and his companion had half crossed the bed of the river; and noticing the plans the men had adopted to get their timber over the flats, Tom commenced a fresh interrogation to elicit from his travelling concomitant some information on the usual mode of procedure. As the subject may have some degree of interest to a few of our readers we will give in our own words the substance of the dialogue, craving permission to premise it by a remark or two on the general life and movements of sawyers.

They are a class of men who exist during the greater portion of the year in the bush and scrubs bordering on the rivers and creeks, where they unceasingly and uninterruptedly practise their vocations. They generally work in gangs, either on equal shares or on wages to one of their number, who may be more thoughtful than the rest; and one who, notwithstanding a fair share of dissipation, may have accumulated, possibly through the influence of a thrifty wife, some considerable means. The classes of timber most in demand, and therefore most sought for by these men, are cedar and pine; which are procured separately, in certain localities, in great abundance. This local segregation of the woods is a characteristic of the Australian bush, and more than anything else tends to create that monotony which is everywhere perceptible. It causes the eye of the traveller to weary as he looks continually on the leafless bare-looking trunks of the blue gum (which without intermission meets his gaze for miles and miles on the lonely road) or the sombre-looking ironbark that with equal pertinacity monopolizes the ranges. Rarely, if ever, will an admixture of timbers be found to any extent; and, consequently, those sawyers who cut pine leave the cedar scrubs to be visited by the others; and _vice versa_.

The timber is usually cut in the dry season; and the trees after being cleared of their limbs and foliate appendages, and denuded of their bark, are drawn by the means of a bullock team to the nearest creek or river, where they are deposited until such time as the rains sufficiently swell the streams to float them from their resting-places. With an iron brand in the shape of a punch, and a hammer, each cutter on the end of every log indelibly marks his own property; and as the logs are removed from their beds by the rising current, a staple is driven into each. Through this a chain is passed, when the whole are collected into one raft, and securely moored to wait, in their transit down the stream, the pleasure of the proprietor. The time usually chosen to raft the timber is when the rivers are moderately high after rains; or, in the parlance of the upper part of the country, when there is "a flood," and in the lower, when there is "a fresh" in the river. They are then started in their downward course either by the directing aid of a small boat (if the ascent of the stream is practicable for it) or under the guidance of some of the party; who make a firm footing for themselves on their floating platform, by sheets of bark and foliage. They then trust themselves to the current, while they guide the course of the raft with poles until they come to flats. When the rivers are to any extent swollen, or (as it is said in the country) "running," the rafts usually pass over without difficulty; but if the water is low, and the flats barely covered, the passage is necessarily not so easily effected, and frequently impossible. Such then was the case at the Waverley flats at the time of which we write. And it was with the water almost at the lowest ebb that the party Tom saw had been endeavouring to float over their raft; the process for which they had adopted we now propose to explain.

It is necessary at some point to have a boat to assist the raftmen in their guidance of the unwieldy mass, and one is usually kept by them for that purpose at the highest point to which it can be conveniently brought. After escaping all impediments the boat takes the raft in tow; and, as it progresses on the stream and comes within the action of tides, on the occasion of each flowing, the party have to draw their raft into the bank, and camp until the return of the ebb. In their journey to the mills rarely more than three or four of the party, including the proprietor if not a joint stock affair, accompany the timber; while the remainder pursue their occupation of cutting.

The party that was camped at the Waverley flats consisted of five individuals in all. They had been working in shares for some months collecting the raft they then had with them, and were all accompanying it to the mills to sell it and have the proceeds equally distributed. But the season having been an unusually dry one they had here met with an effectual check, and had no alternative but to wait for rain.

When they first reached the flats the water was just running over them, but not sufficiently deep to admit of the passage of their property; so the fellows had recourse to the expedient of forming "a race" to effect their purpose, and this they had accomplished in the following way: A few of the logs were drawn up and arranged longitudinally from either bank of the river in an oblique direction to a focus in the centre of the flat; from this point the logs were arranged parallel to one another right across the bank to the deep water below. They were then all firmly staked into the soil, and the interstices between and below them were packed so as to perfect a dam or barrier to the water. The result of this plan as is evident was that the water flowing over the flat was confined to the narrow channel between the parallel logs, and thereby attained a higher elevation and a swifter current. To the mouth of this impromptu canal, then, the sawyers brought the logs one by one, and they were made, with very little guiding, to shoot through the passage with speed and precision. After getting nearly a hundred of the logs in this manner over the impediment, the water continuing to fall, eventually left them with not even sufficient to make their sluice available; so, with fully half their raft fixed above the flat, the men were compelled to be idle until they had sufficient water to float the remainder over.

Tom had expressed surprise to his companion that he and his mates did not proceed with the timber that had passed the flat, and leave some of their companions behind to watch for the flood in the river, and secure the others as they should descend. He pointed out that by that means they would, in all probability, have got their first raft down to the mills, and had time to return before the rains came on. But this, his companion told him, the sawyers were afraid to risk, because, he said, if the river rose rapidly, which they fully expected, they would want all their number on the spot, otherwise they might lose half the timber. Besides, in the absence of their boat, it would be an impossibility to secure any of the logs if they should be washed over. "And then," he continued, "we have been expecting the rain to commence every day for weeks past." So it was deemed advisable by the whole party to await the rising of the river; and, even watchful as they were, they fully expected that if the flood came upon them at all suddenly, they would lose a considerable number of the logs.

After crossing the river (or rather the bed of it), and leaving the sawyers' party, Tom Rainsfield leisurely pursued his journey; and, after riding for about twenty miles or so, he could perceive, by the nature of the country and the occasional appearance of "improvements," that he was approaching the town of Brisbane. Towards dark the road led him through lines of fences, and past a few cottages and cultivated fields, and thence by detached buildings, until he finally entered the town and put up at his hotel not at all dissatisfied at the completion of his journey. The country, even to town, had equally suffered by the drought. Hardly a vestige of herbage was to be seen on the whole surface of the ground, and the mortality amongst the beasts was fearful, and painfully perceptible from the fulsome malaria in the atmosphere. Tom's horse was reduced to a perfect shadow, and was so weak that when he reached the inn he could hardly drag one foot after another, and certainly could not have existed another day with a continuation of his privations. Hence Tom was additionally delighted when he drew rein at the Crown Hotel, and permitted his weary and faithful animal to be led away to the stables, while he proceeded to refresh himself in a manner most pleasant after his own fatigues.