The Australian Bush, 433 



no obligation to any one^ cares little to form new acquaintai ces, 

 and always appears shy and reserved before strangers, especia^'v 

 "new chums." But let him fall in with an old mate, or man of 

 his own stamp, and the meeting is often of a boisterous character. 

 No one more readily sympathizes with the reverses of a mate, and 

 so little selfishness is there in his nature that he willingly shares his 

 all with him, whether it be his last shilling or his last ''%" of 

 tobacco. His rude hospitality is proverbial, and the benighted 

 traveller always finds shelter and food at the bushman's tent as a 

 matter of course 3 and, unlike the way of the world in general, the 

 more "hard up " the stranger is, the more he is welcome. This 

 is all done too without the slightest ostentation, as a duty he owes 

 to his fellow-man, and upon the principle that any day or night he 

 may require the same assistance himself. I am here only alluding 

 to what I call the true bushmen, men who knock about the bush 

 on their own resources, living by shooting, wood-splitting, &c. ; and 

 not to the regular settlers on stations, who — valuing a man as they 

 do a working bullock, for just the work they can get out of him — 

 will scarcely condescend to notice (other than as a parish beadle 

 does a vagrant in the old country) a vagabond shooter who camps 

 upon his run ; although, for my part, I can say that there were but 

 few stations which I called at where I was not welcome to such ac- 

 commodation as the man's hut aiforded — and this I believe they 

 cannot deny you, but by law every settler at a certain distance from 

 a public-house is obliged to furnish a supper and a night's lodging to 

 any wayfarer who calls after sunset. 



It is now some years since I left " my home a vagabond to be," 

 and, during that period, have wandered over many lands, my gun 

 and my fishing-rod my only companions, a free citizen of the world. 



In the prime of years, in the full flush of youth and strength, such 

 a life offers charms of wild independence, which can never be 

 realized by that man who is of necessity tied to one spot, no matter 

 with what comforts he may be surrounded, or what sports he may 

 enjoy, ready-made to hand. But as years creep on, and one begins 

 to feel that the "old gentleman with the scythe " is pressing hard 



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