“I would give anything to have a Chinaman to teach my boys vegetable growing,” said the Principal of a Horticultural College near Melbourne to me some years ago. “But the Minister would never allow it, and if he did I should have the whole country about my ears.” He was right, for no freeborn Australian boy would tolerate for a minute being taught anything by an Asiatic. But are they right in this. One may perhaps despise certain traits in every race, in every phase of Nature even, but is that any proof that they have not much to teach us? And after all, as wise men of all ages have realized, it is from our enemies, not from our friends, that we learn most, and the Chinese native is after all perhaps a trifle older than the Australian—though you in my dear foster-country must really forgive me mentioning it. CHAPTER VIII THE AMUSEMENTS AND THE ARTS ONCE I lived in a house where there was a dog kept named Turk, presumably a watch-dog, but only presumably so, for he would follow anybody, welcome anybody, and almost go into hysterics of joy at a word of favour even from the veriest sundowner. At the gate-house of the railway crossing near by dwelt a fat old Irishwoman with a brood of children, one of whom, little Jack, a most lovable rascal of some seven or eight years, made a regular practice of stealing Turk, bringing him back after several days, and claiming a reward for having _found_ him—usually in the most unlikely places. First of all he was paid for his trouble with a shilling, then sixpence, then the reward dwindled to a penny or an apple, as we all began to realize how we were being had, though we still kept up the solemn pretence just for the sake of the amusement we got out of it. Little Jack was a born bragger. His great boast was: “We’ve been keepin’ gates fur years and years, ever since I wur quite a little chap; and we ain’t never ’ad our gate carried away, all the toime we’ve been at thur job. Why thur’s some as ’as thur gates carried away pretty near every week!” Jack had a great idea of fair play for everyone. Once he brought a very small brother with him, when he came to return Turk, and the master of the house took both of the boys into the orchard for the so-called reward. The tiny one, enchanted with the quantity of fruit, the pink-cheeked peaches and golden apricots, ran hither and thither ejaculating, shouting, and appealing for sympathy in his delight, till at last his elder brother, out of all patience with the constant interruptions to what the master of the orchard was saying, caught him by the shoulder, and, with a sharp shake, whispered hoarsely: “Can’t yer ’old yer jaw, an’ give the bloomin’ bloke a show.” It was his way of showing respect for his elders and betters. Some time later I was away for several months, and on my return was met by a still older brother—with all Jack’s rascality and none of Jack’s lovableness—who was returning Turk, oozing with easy affection, after some days’ absence.