A Colonial Reformer, Vol. 1 (of 3)Boldrewood, Rolf
History
A Colonial Reformer, Vol. 1 (of 3)
Boldrewood, Rolf
Australia -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction
When Mr. Neuchamp looked around, after completing his toilette, the
scene strongly stirred his imaginative mind; it was unique, unfamiliar,
and majestic. At his feet, down the long incline of the mountain, lay
the vast foreign-foliaged, primeval forests, the silver-threaded,
winding rivulets, the hoary crag-ramparts of yesterday’s travel
shrouded in billowing, rolling mists, or rich in combination of light
and shade, colour and effect, and at the bidding of the morning
sunbeam. As far as vision extended, nought but these characteristic
features of the mountain wilderness was visible. Immediately around
him, however, were decisive though humble evidences of the domination
of art over nature. The inn orchard, with its autumn-blushing apples,
stables, barn-yard, the cheerful smoking chimneys in the ’eager
air’—all these told of the limited but absolute sway of civilised man.
Ernest’s ideas gradually shaped themselves into the concrete fact of
breakfast.
After this luxurious meal Mr. Neuchamp felt his ardour for travel
and exploration rekindled. He inquired the road from the landlord
and boldly pushed on. Much the same fortune attended him, sometimes
traversing rugged and barren country, and at other times finding
cottages, farms, and orchards upon his route. When, however, he reached
the more open forest lands, he found that a portion of the carefully
graded highway was in process of being metalled. Here were many parties
of stonebreakers at work by contract, apparently preferring such labour
to the more monotonous daily wage.
Asking for water at one small camp, he found in the cook a
well-mannered youngster, doubtless a gentleman. Ernest was pressed to
take more substantial refreshment, but he declined the offer.
‘How far do you think of going to-day?’ inquired the affable
stone-compeller.
‘About half a dozen miles,’ replied Mr. Neuchamp, who by this time had
completed the chief portion of a fair day’s trudge.
‘My reason for asking,’ continued the basaltic one, ‘is, that we are
going to have a little dinner at an inn just so far distant. The party
consists of my mates—very decent fellows—and our superintendent, who is
a regular brick. We shall be glad if you will join us.’
‘Most happy indeed,’ answered Ernest, especially gratified to enter
upon a new phase of life utterly outside of his previous experiences,
and perhaps more typically Australian than anything he could have
stumbled upon except by the merest accident. He had dined in many queer
places and met with strange company in his day, being always ready
to extend his observations in the interest of philosophical inquiry,
but a dinner of persons who broke stones upon a highroad for their
subsistence, and who were presumably gentlemen, he had never yet been
so fortunate as to hear of, much less to partake of.
‘If you don’t mind waiting half an hour,’ pursued the Amphitryon,
‘while I change my clothes, we can walk down comfortably together.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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