It was not till next day that we found that this part of Western Australia consists everywhere of loose yellow sand like that by the seashore. The night was very mild after the keen sea air, and encumbered with bags and our heavy coats, we arrived at the station in time to see the train go out, and waited for the next one in a large empty booking-hall. At last the little train rattled in, and we started. We crossed the broad Swan River, above which a crescent moon was hanging, and Venus shone with the luminous brilliancy of southern skies. One of us went on to Perth: the other descended at Cottesloe Beach.
Here the station fly was waiting. It was shaped like a French diligence and drawn by two ruminative old white horses. The driver, surprised and startled at the apparition of a fare, climbed down, and lit a candle inside the fly, the light of which disclosed white lace curtains at the windows tied up with red ribbon. A few minutes jolting drive, and we were at our destination, and, jumping out, plunged immediately into soft, deep sand, before the entrance to a large one-storied house, its corrugated iron white-painted roof shining in the starlight as if it were covered with snow.
Our hostess, who had waited dinner for us an
