File:The Australian abroad on branches from the main routes round the world (1885) (14764621932).jpg

Identifier: australianabroad00hingrich (find matches)
Title: The Australian abroad on branches from the main routes round the world
Year: 1885 (1880s)
Authors: Hingston, James, b. 1830
Subjects: Australia -- Description and travel East Asia -- Description and travel New Zealand -- Description and travel Middle East -- Description and travel
Publisher: Melbourne, W. Inglis
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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that my memory brought back to me a bright picture of Australiaspeople. May I l^e forgiven if I answered too enthusiastically to that delicatequestion ! My replies brought an anxious look to the face of my querist, andthen a sigh came from her that she could not repress, and with that she hastilyleft me. I saw that something was wrong, and soon learnt all about it fromher father, who presently returned. I lis son-in-law, the young ladys husband,had been some time in Australia, and was staying unconscionably long—everso much longer than could have been expected. I had been extolling the landthat he so lingered in, and the sirens that might be thought to help to detainhim ! Had I only known it all, how easily I could have avoided adding to thetrouble of this wearily-waiting one, to whom all nature spoke but on oneheme— Whose heart was told a message None else could hear beside, He will come !—soft breezes whisperd _; Hell come no more !—the wild winds sighd. iilllilliilillllil I
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WondroKS Ruined Cities. 249 There was no help now for what I had unwittingly done. He is but apoor observer, however, and at best a wasted traveller, who gives all hisobservation to works of art and wonders of inanimate nature ; who neglects, ashe journeys, to notice the sounds to be heard from that human harp of athousand strings that responds everywhere in similar notes, but upon whichcircumstances play such ever-changing variations. Nothing passed me on the road down to Rambodda but two running mail-men, each carrying in his hand a long staff with a tinkling bell at the top of it.They did the fourteen miles in two hours and three-quarters, laden as they werewith mail-bags, but they went as the crow flies, caring nothing for the road.The way these men dash down the hillsides is something to wonder at. Theyare Tamils, as also are the majority of the coftee-pickers, a hardier and tougherrace than are the Cingalese. These fellows do most of the labour of the islandnow. Formerly, as inv

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