On a Selection 47 



ing at some joke of their own, and across the flats 

 the magpies are fluting and carolling out of sheer 

 joy. Green parrots dart in shrieking flocks from 

 tree to tree in search of honey-laden eucalyptus 

 blossoms. Startled by the hoof- falls, a grey wal- 

 laby hops through the scrub, making gigantic 

 leaps in its fright. The boy tears off a twig of 

 eucalyptus to brush away the tormenting flies, 

 and with many a yell and shout drives the lowing 

 cows into the yard. 



Then comes the work of milking, in which 

 every one takes part. When it is finished the 

 boy has his breakfast, while his father harnesses 

 a horse to the spring-cart, in which the milk, in 

 a large tin vessel, is to be conveyed to the butter 

 factory. The money received for the milk is the 

 only regular source of income the selection can 

 boast, and the institution of these butter factories 

 has done much to make existence possible for the 

 selector. It would be interesting to trace the 

 butter from the factory to the big cool-storage 

 depot in Melbourne or Sydney, and thence to the 

 refrigerating chamber of an ocean-going steamer, 

 to appear presently on some English or African 

 breakfast-table. Meanwhile, having seen the 

 milk despatched, the cockie sits down to a break- 

 fast of milkless tea and butterless bread. Presently, 

 the boy returns with his vessel of " separated" 

 milk for the consumption of the calves and pigs; 

 and now it is time for school. 



Anxiously the mother watches the children set 



