The great fault of the system seems to have been that, instead of paying a certain percentage on the value of their estates regularly, be the season wet or dry, just as a man will pay a life or fire insurance, the landowners have been allowed to pay only for the water they use. In this the holders of the largest areas were the most culpable. Their estates were extensive enough for them to be independent of very heavy crops, while the smaller men, to whom close cultivation was a necessity, and who used water—and therefore paid for it—at all seasons were in time of drought deprived of what they needed by the sudden demand made on the supply by the large holders; therefore it is not to be wondered at that the system resulted in what the _Melbourne Age_ has described as a “colossal failure.” At last, however, a new policy has been instigated. In the future the distribution of water is to be controlled by State experts only, landowners who are within the irrigation area having to pay for it whether they use it or not, so that when holdings become smaller and settlers more plentiful there is every hope that the desert may indeed “blossom like a rose.” Æsculapius, in his “Birds,” tells us that it is from our enemies, not from our friends, that we must learn; and it is equally so with our failures. Australia has had a good many nasty jars, mostly caused by that impetuosity that is part of her political youth; but nobody can say that she does not profit by her mistakes, that she immortalizes them as some older countries do, or that she is willing for a moment to remain beaten. Meanwhile, from the farmer’s point of view, comes the complaint that irrigation costs more than it is worth, and that he cannot get sufficient labourers to work irrigated land. But, with all due respect to the Australian farmer, this is mainly a case of having taken up more land than he can cultivate. He idealizes size. He would rather have a thousand acres of drought-stricken and useless land than he would have a hundred densely cultivated, and paying hand-over-hand. He himself will work incredibly hard in bursts, while his wife and children toil like slaves, but he does not care to face the constant, steady round demanded by what he would scornfully describe as a “pocket-handkerchief lot.”