KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 
abroad. How easily people are cheated of 
their senses, and of their money! And yet— 
“the world is not mad!’ Who dares say so? 
But now for the joys of a settler’s life :— 
Dear Bobby,— When L landed here, I found 
things in an awful state of confusion, and 
everything frightfully dear; for instance, 
bread 2s. 6d. the 4lb. loaf; meat 6d. and 8d. 
per lb. ; butter, 4s.; eggs, 12s. per dozen; 
house rent, anything they liked to ask for 
an empty hole—I cannot call it a room—30s. 
and £2 a week, and lucky to get it. To land 
self, £1; luggage about £2. What wasI to 
do with only 15s. 6d. in my purse, all my 
worldly possessions? There’s a fix to be in 
—houseless, tentless, and moneyless, in a 
strange land! However, a thought came into 
my head that I possessed that which would 
bring me at least a few pounds—green 
goggles, 100 of which I bought in England 
for the small sum of 28s. I therefore asked 
one of the passengers if he would make a 
spec, and buy them for £10. 
After some hesitation, he took them for 
£9 10s., and now, behold me, a monied man! 
Yes ; with capital enough to buy a share in 
the ship’s lifeboat and a tent, and land myself 
and luggage free, obtain a license as a water- 
man for Hobson’s Bay on the Yarra, Yarra; 
and now landing passengers and luggage— 
not exactly free of all charge. Next week, 
I am about to make a change from sea to 
land, and instead of making holes in the 
water, and poor emigrants’ pockets, I am 
goig to bore the earth in search of the 
precious metal. Iam going up to the dig- 
gings—Fryar’s Creek, or Murderer’s Flat, or 
Choke’em Gully—with a new chum..... | 
What I have seen of the climate of this 
country, I do not like. Hot winds, hotter 
and more fierce than the siroccos of Egypt; 
hot days, and bitter cold mornings and nights ; 
strong winds, which raise the dust in clouds 
far thicker than our November fogs; and 
frequent storms, Jike the present. I can 
assure you it’s no child’s play pulling and 
managing a boat in Hobson’s Bay; for it 
nearly always blows half a gale from the sea. 
Then we have the very torments of Tartarus, 
in the shape of myriads of the most torment- 
ing of flies, which, not content with sticking 
to your eyes, going up your nose, and falling 
into and upon every mortal thing you eat and 
drink, must needs commit suicide by flying 
down your throat. If cats get thin from 
eating them, and they have the same effect 
on me, I fear you will never even see what 
there is of me again. Then there are lots of 
dear little tickling fleas, which cause you 
vast amusement throughout the night; and 
as for the mosquitoes, the very air rings of 
an evening with their lively hum. Snakes, 
too, are very fond of blankets—as, I think, 
was proved just before I left London; but 



309 
here they like to get into the blanket, and 
not the blanket to get into them. Spiders, 
as large as a willow-pattern plate,are also on 
friendly terms with you, and often call to 
take a bite and sup. Oh, it’s a lovely spot 
—very! - 
There is a vast amount of distress among 
the gentlemanly, no-capital, no hard-work 
people—people who will not go on the roads 
and earn 10s. a day, because they have never 
done it, and it’s below them. But, believe 
me, if a man comes here without capital, he 
must work or starve; and the work that is 
wanted is hand, not headwork. I do any- 
thing to pick up a shilling—carry a box, help 
dig the foundation of a house; and what | 
have lately made some money at, has been 
duck-shooting. The way | set about it is 
this : —I start off in the afternoon for one of 
the numerous lagoons, situated from five to 
ten miles off, and take with me on my back, 
besides my gun, a blanket, hookpot, panni- 
kin, tea and sugar, bread, &e. On my road, 
I often get stuck in a bog, or lost in the bush ; 
but nil desperandum, on I go, and at length 
reach my destination. At sunset, I take my 
station in some thick reeds—perhaps up to 
my hips in mud and water, and there await 
the evening flight of the ducks, teal, black 
swans, &c. 
At last, bang! bang! goes old Joe Manton ; 
and splash, splash, tumble the ducks into 
the lake. Then for an hour it’s load and 
fire, and then gather together the dying and 
the dead. I now try and find out a soft place 
under some friendly gum-tree, light a fire, 
make a cup of te» (when I was on board ship 
I thought I should become a solid lump of 
“plum duff ;” now I really believe I shall be 
converted into a huge teapot, for I drink tea 
by the quart, not the cup), roll myself in my 
blanket, anything but bless the ants and 
mosquitoes, and off to sleep. 
Up again in the morning before the sun, 
take my place in the rushes, see the ducks 
turn out to wash their faces, and give them 
a hearty salute; after which, pack up and 
away to Melbourne, call at the clubs and 
hotels, and sell my ducks; and if I fail 
there, it’s “ Duck, O! Wild duck! Widgeon 
or wildfowl!” in the streets; and the best 
of all is, this kind of sport pays at 18s. a 
pair for ducks, 20s. a goose, 5s. and 6s. per 
pair for teal—a good night’s work tells up. 
Now, your poor, proud man won’t do this; 
because, faith, he never did such a thing in 
England, and it’s so “low” to sell ducks. 
Therefore he starves, and nobody pities him ; 
and he either turns shepherd in the bush, or 
works his way home again as a ship-steward. 
But there is one sad cause of distress— 
namely, that caused by illness from the 
common and often fatal complaint, diarrhea. 
Then a man or woman without money is 


