It was at this harvest season in the Mallee we tasted all the charms of a perfect Australian summer climate. The eucalyptus was putting forth its new, delicate tips of gold and brown, a perfect blend of bush colour. The sky was of a deep blue, unrelieved by a fleck of cloud. The air, dry and hot, encompassed us like the breath of a generous oven in which all manner of savoury things were yielding up their odours. This blend of bush perfumes, liberated by the heat of the sun, has a character all its own. The charm is completed by the extreme clearness of the atmosphere, which creates many a sweet illusion of the landscape. On these broad spaces the mirage is frequently seen. At least half a dozen times we were tricked into believing that ahead of us lay a glorious stretch of water, when all that awaited us was a particularly dry part of the plain.
Frederic C. Spurr, in Five Years under the Southern CrossAuthor.-Frederic C. Spurr spent some time in Australia and wrote Five Years Under the Southern Cross (Cassell).
General.-What is a miracle? Why was the air like the breath of an oven? Is that a good simile? What is a mirage? Sometimes a mirage is seen at sea, or in the sky, as well as on land. When is it harvest time in the Mallee? Is there a distinction between the Mallee District and the Wimmera District?
Lesson 33
BOADICEA
When the British warrior queen, Bleeding from the Roman rods,Sought, with an indignant mien, Counsel of her country"s gods,Sage beneath a spreading oak Sat the Druid, hoary chief;Every burning word he spoke
Full of rage, and full of grief.
From the group by J. Thomas
Boadicea
Princess ! if our aged eyes
Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, "Tis because resentment tiesAll the terrors of our tongues.
Rome shall perish ! Write that word In the blood that she has spilt;Perish, hopeless and abhorred, Deep in ruin as in guilt.
Rome, for empire far renowned, Tramples on a thousand states;Soon her pride shall kiss the ground.
Hark ! the Gaul is at her gates !
Other Romans shall arise, Heedless of a soldier"s name;Sounds, not arms, shall win the prize- Harmony the path to fame.
Then the progeny that springs From the forests of our land,Armed with thunder, clad with wings, Shall a wider world command.
Regions Caesar never knew Thy posterity shall sway,Where his eagles never flew,
None invincible as they.
Such the bard"s prophetic words, Pregnant with celestial fire, Bending, as he swept the chords Of his sweet but awful lyre.
She, with all a monarch"s pride, Felt them in her bosom glow;Rushed to battle, fought, and died; Dying, hurled them at the foe.
Ruffians, pitiless as proud,
Heaven awards the vengeance due; Empire is on us bestowed,Shame and ruin wait for you.
William Cowper
Author.-William Cowper (1731-1800), an English poet whose best known works are The Task and The Ballad of John Gilpin. His published letters are very interesting.
General.-When were the Romans in Britain? Who was their first leader? Remember that the Druids were at once priests, teachers, and lawgivers among the Celts. Did Rome perish? What states did she trample on? What does this mean- " Sounds, not arms, shall win the prize "? What is " celestial fire "? Tell the story in prose.
Lesson 34
A PERILOUS ADVENTURE
Three or four lads are standing in the channel below the great Natural Bridge of Virginia. They see hundreds of names carved in the limestone buttresses, and resolve to add theirs to the number. This done, one of them is seized with the mad ambition of carving his name higher than the highest there! His companions try to dissuade him from attempting so dangerous a feat, but in vain. He is a wild, reckless youth; and, afraid now to yield, lest he should be thought a coward, he carves his way up and up the limestone rock, till he can hear the voices, but not the words, of his terror-stricken playmates.
One of them runs off to the village and tells the boy"s father of his perilous situation. Others go for help in other directions; and ere long there are hundreds on the bridge above, all holding their breath, and awaiting the fearful catastrophe. The poor boy can just distinguish the tones of his father, who is shouting with all the energy of despair, "William! William ! don"t look down ! Your Mother, and Henry, and Harriet are all here praying for you! Don"t look down! Keep your eyes towards the top! "The boy does not look down. His eye is fixed towards heaven,and his young heart on Him who reigns there. He grasps againhis knife. He cuts another niche, and another foot is added to the hundreds that remove him from the reach of human help from below.
The sun is half-way down in the west. Men are leaning over the outer edge of the bridge with ropes in their hands. But fifty more niches must be cut before the longest rope can reach the boy! Two minutes more, and all will be over. That blade is worn to the last half-inch. The boy"s head reels. His last hope is dying in his heart; his life must hang upon the next niche he cuts. That niche will be his last.
At the last cut he makes, his knife-his faithful knife- drops from his little, nerveless hand, and, ringing down the precipice, falls at his mother"s feet ! An involuntary groan of despair runs through the crowd below, and all is still as the grave. At the height of nearly three hundred feet, the devoted boy lifts his hopeless heart and closing eyes to commend his soul to God.
Hark! A shout falls on his ears from above! A man who is lying with half his length over the bridge has caught a glimpse of the boy"s head and shoulders. Quick as thought the noosed rope is within reach of the sinking youth. No one breathes. With a faint, convulsive effort, the swooning boy drops his arm into the noose.
Not a lip moves while he is dangling over that fearful abyss; but, when a sturdy arm reaches down and draws up the lad, and holds him up before the tearful, breathless multitude,such shouting and such leaping and weeping for joy had neverbefore greeted a human being so recovered from the jaws of death.
Eliiiu Burritt