Our host and hostess were terribly grieved at having to send us eleven miles farther, and tried to make up for it by feeding us sumptuously. The talk ranged over many subjects—the Sistine Madonna to Holman Hunt’s “Light of the World” among them—and we found the ferryman was something of an enthusiast, and knew his Dresden Gallery well. Our host was a man of much reading, and told us how in the old camping days they were a strangely mixed crew, hailing from all parts of the world; sometimes Oxford and Cambridge men among them—come gold-seeking or exploring like the rest. These would insist on the others in camp reading, so as to be able to keep the talk going round the fire at nights; and an enthusiasm for history, Shakespeare, and the “Saturday Review” grew up. Men lent books to one another, and the budgets of papers when they arrived, were eagerly read and handed on.
“Ah!” said our host, “they were good old days! We youngsters learnt a lot mixing with men of education; it was grand to sit round the fire o’ nights and hear the talk—and they made us enter into it too, for they insisted on us reading. We have the schools now all down the Coast, but there’s not the same chance; we never hear the talk we did in the early days.” At every place they were loud in praise of the Government. A telephone connecting the whole length of the Coast was under construction, and soon every small settlement would have its connection. One
