158 IN AUSTRALIAN WILDS 



seemed to fall into reverie, and they were twelve miles 

 from the spot where he called attention to the pedes- 

 trian when he remarked quietly, "He's my father." 

 This is a traveller's tale, but my own experience of 

 coaching in the Commonwealth helps me to credit it. 



At a station homestead we were delayed for half 

 an hour while canvas bags were delivered and re- 

 ceived ; for we carried His Majesty's mail, and, along 

 the road, bundles of letters and newspapers were 

 tossed from the coach into old soap boxes or kerosene 

 tins, fastened to fence rails or tree trunks. Here 

 and there a man was waiting for the mail, and we 

 stopped for a minute, to deliver a welcome budget and 

 exchange news. The driver thawed in the afternoon, 

 when the sun beamed from a cloudless sky, and enter- 

 tained me with reminiscences of coaching in the early 

 days. He spoke of the Kelly Gang, who bailed up a 

 Jerilderie bank years ago ; of the pleasures and plagues 

 of driving; and of other things. After sunset the 

 box seat was not at all desirable, for we were driving 

 against the wind, which became too cool for comfort. 

 We were pleased when, at about 9 p.m., the town 

 lights glimmered ahead. My friend met me at the 

 hotel, and for an hour we discussed plans and 

 prospects. 



A few days were devoted to rambles in and around 

 Jerilderie, which proved most interesting and profit- 

 able. Many fine photographs of birds and their nests 

 were obtained. My friend's own garden and 

 paddocks, with their trees and hedgerows, provided 

 so many delightful subjects that I was tempted to be 

 imprudent in the use of plates. I had brought about 

 two hundred, and could easily have exposed double 

 the number to advantage while in Riverina. Tri- 

 coloured Bush-Chats [Epthianura tricolor] were 

 nesting in the boxthorn hedges and small bushes, 

 within the town area, and I spent a sunny morning 

 among them. A hedgerow nest, containing three 



