are the device which South Australia is developing to counteract drought; and we visited a new one in course of construction among the hills to the north-west of Adelaide.
That was the day on which we visited Mr. Murray's sheep farm, a mere trifle of forty miles from Adelaide. Before leaving the subject of the reservoir, which was interesting from the engineering design of its dam, then being thrown across the gap of two hills—a difficult and masterly piece of work—one may give some idea of the size of the basin by remarking that Mr. Murray, who lived some ten miles away, had protested against the first plans. The reason was that when the reservoir became filled it would have come flooding up to his front door. A very pleasant front door it was too, belonging to something that was part manor-house, part farm, and the counterpart of which might have been found in many an English county. A long, low house with windows meant to shade large, cool rooms, a wide hall, with pictures and polo sticks and photographs—photographs of famous sheep—and a side table gleaming with silver—the cups won as prizes. In front of the house roses and flowering borders and a lawn—on it playing a collie and a tame kangaroo. Beyond, the orchard garden. And not a sheep in sight.
