Lost Lenore: The Adventures of a Rolling StoneReid, Mayne
General
Lost Lenore: The Adventures of a Rolling Stone
Reid, Mayne
Adventure stories; Dime novels; Fiction
An attempt was being made at keeping the streets clean. Old buildings
had been taken down; and new ones erected in their stead. The citizens,
too, were better dressed; and looked, as well as acted, more like human
beings.
At the public-houses customers were served with food fitting to eat; and
were also treated with some show of civility. The number of people who
formerly seemed to think, that a public-house keeper held a higher
social position than the governor himself, had become greatly
diminished. They were now in a decided minority.
Men were no longer afraid, during night hours, to trust themselves alone
in the streets; and they did not, as formerly, issue in armed bands from
the public-houses to protect themselves from being robbed, while going
to their homes, or repairing to places of amusement.
Men found lying drunk in the gutters were now in some danger of being
placed upon a stretcher, and taken away by the police.
The convict element was greatly upon the decrease; and the profane
language, imported from the slums of London, was not so disgustingly
universal.
I have hurried through the narrative of my voyages from Melbourne to
Callao, and back, for two reasons. First, because nothing very
interesting occurred to me during either; and secondly, because I feel
somewhat ashamed at having been so ridiculously deluded; and have
therefore no desire to dwell upon the details of that ill-starred
expedition.
Volume Two, Chapter XXIV.
THE YARRA-YARRA.
Soon after my return from Callao, I accompanied two acquaintances, upon
a hunting expedition up the Yarra-Yarra.
There is some beautiful scenery along the banks of this river--
beautiful, as curves of shining water, bordered by noble forms of
vegetable life, can make it.
There is some pleasure to be found in a hunting excursion in Australia--
although it does not exactly consist in the successful pursuit of game.
In the morning and afternoon, when your shadow is far prolonged over the
greensward--and you breathe the free genial atmosphere of that sunny
clime--an exhilarating effect is produced upon your spirits, a sort of
joyous consciousness of the possession of youth, health, and happiness.
To breathe the evening atmosphere of Australia is to become inspired
with hope. If despair should visit the soul of one, to whom fate has
been unkind, it will come in the mid-day hours; but even then, the
philosopher may find a tranquil contentment by lying under the shade of
a "she oak," and imbibing the smoke of the Nicotian weed.
One of my companions in the chase chanced to have--living about twenty
miles up the river--an acquaintance, who had often invited him to make a
visit to his "station."
Our comrade had decided to accept the invitation--taking the two of us
along with him, though we were in no haste to reach our destination--so
long as we could find amusement by the way.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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