248 Australian Life 



the bush was flecked with light and deep yellow, 

 and the aromatic air was fragrant with all wood- 

 land smells. Even in the city streets, the groves 

 of eucalyptus trees were swarming with honey- 

 questing parrakeets, that flashed screaming from 

 one blossom-laden tree to another like living 

 jewels. Why, then, did the poet write so sadly 

 of chill October ? 



Tom Brown' s Schooldays was more interesting, 

 but those schoolboy heroes played football with a 

 brazen disregard of all rules, as we knew the 

 game. (Later on, I found it difficult to reconcile 

 an acquaintance with the history of Rome, 

 Greece, and England with my total ignorance of 

 the history of my native country.) All reading, 

 all learning, had to be accompanied with a set of 

 mental adjustments. If the native-born Austral- 

 ian is to be accused of scepticism and irreverence, it 

 must be said in his behalf that he was accustomed 

 from his childhood upwards to read and be taught 

 things that, in the circumstances, were mislead- 

 ing, and untrue. Teaching is better now, and 

 text-books are specially prepared for the Aus- 

 tralian schools. The children so educated are 

 the less likely to speak of Great Britain as 

 "home." 



More than eighty per cent, of the present in- 

 habitants of Australia were born there, and very 

 few of these can expect to have the opportunity 

 of making the twelve thousand mile journey to 

 the Motherland. Not only is Australia far dis- 



