BUSH T/IFE. 215 



reckless spirit is subdued by feelings of a deeper and 

 more serious caste. 



It is strange that the man who lives by his gun rarely 

 saves any money ; and this is the reason (whatever may 

 be my own inclinations) why I should scarcely be justi- 

 fied in recommending any one to follow this life who 

 comes out here with the hope too often a delusive one 

 of making a rapid fortune. There is very little fore- 

 thought with the shooter ; and I suppose that the old 

 law of the rolling-stone gathering no moss holds good in 

 his case as well as any other. If he makes his daily 

 bread he is content, for he seems to think with Burns, 



But cheerful still, we are as well as monarch in a 



palace, ; 

 Though Fortune's frown still hunts us down, with all 



her wonted malice, ; 

 We make, indeed, our daily bread, but ne'er can 



make it farther, ; 

 But, as daily bread is all we need, we do not much 



regard her, O. 



Xowhere do we meet with more real friendship and 

 genuine kindness of heart than in the bush. Bough in 

 aspect, careless in dress, off-hand in his manners, 

 there is a vein of simple and warm-hearted kindness 

 running through the character of the real bushman, 

 which we rarely, if ever, find among men whose better 

 feelings have become insensibly deadened by a continual 

 intercourse with the world. Isolated, as it were, from 

 his fellow-men, solely dependent upon his own exertions 

 for his daily bread, he feels himself under no obligation 



