112 BLOOMFIELD RIVER chap. 
tangled mass of tropical undergrowth, to a little horse- 
tramway, belonging to the old fast -going -to -ruin Sugar 
Plantation, which was formed here eight years ago when 
this river was first opened up, and of which Mr. Bauer 
had had the management. The enormous expenses, 
and the doing away with black labour, ruined it, and 
nothing now remains but a small village of empty 
houses, rusty machinery, and dilapidation everywhere. 
A caretaker only now lives there with his wife. 
There were big bushes here covered with limes all 
going to waste, and masses of grenadillas, yellow with 
ripeness, hanging temptingly from the verandah ; there 
were goats too, and what didn't this suggest ? " Would 
I have some milk ? " I felt that I could drink a bucket- 
ful I and there was cake too, plain, homely, and currant- 
less, but how delicious it tasted, and how luxurious that 
real white cloth looked, all spread on a table under the 
shade of the trees I My appetite was insatiable, and 
even when we reached Mr. H.'s pretty bungalow house 
at Wyalla Station I was quite ready for the second 
lunch that awaited me there, and never in my life before 
had any home seemed more welcome, or any bread and 
butter better ; my bedroom too, the grandeur of an 
upstair one with a dainty curtained bed, and everything 
looking so sweet and fresh, and all the deamess of 
home over everything even to the heartiest welcome. 
In the dining-room there were shelves of books and 
a piano. I seemed to see ever)rthing now in a new 
light, as if I had been out of the world for ages, and 
yet how short a time it really was. The view was 
lovely ; the long valley waving with grass, now vividly 
green, lay below the hill where this house stands ; 
beyond the valley there is a thick belt of rich tropical 
jungle, and towering above the dense range of thickly- 
wooded mountain, and clothed to the very summit 
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