decked out suitably. Calico for chemises was once issued, and, doubtless, made up by some of them in olden days. The polka jacket was gaily got up, though only worn on festive occasions. When I made a remark as to the paucity of clothes, and their miserable appearance in such weather, there was the repetition of the complaint of their selling for drink the dresses, even though all had been stamped with the Government mark.
In the time of Governor Denison they were happier, according to their own account, as that gentleman often paid them a visit, bringing some of his family with him, and having a packet of toys, marbles and balls. He would spread out the treasure, join in their games, play even at leapfrog with them, and finish off with merry laughter and good feed. Lady Denison would sometimes ride down with a party of ladies, and bring a lot of them up to town in cabs for a change. His Excellency has sent down a stage-coach to fetch some to Government House for a dinner, and afterwards give them a laugh at the theatre. Dr. Nixon, the learned and kind-hearted bishop, often paid them a visit, giving them ghostly counsel, but never omitting, according to their version, to bring them some tucker. A basket of apples, and a genial smile, brought attentive listeners to his devotional exercises. The removal of the Governor, and the lengthened indisposition of the Bishop, had darkened their latter days.
They spoke freely of their friends, but could not forbear a word about the past Black War and its troubles. The "bad white fellows " often came up in their talk. The "bad white fellows" haunted them still, stealing their clothes, and making them drunk. Little or no restraint was laid upon their movements. No fence enclosed their ground, and the wide Bush was theirs for wanderings. Occasionally they indulged in a ramble for days, and returned improved in health by their absence. The diseases troubling them were those arising from neglected colds. I was taken to a bit of ground enclosed by Walter, which was the cemetery of the departed. There was nothing romantic about it, though much that was painfully suggestive.
The moral condition of the station was the subject of indignant complaint from Maryann, the half-caste wife of Walter: "We had souls in Flinders," said she, "but we have none here. There we were looked after, and the bad Whites were kept from annoying us. Here we are thrown upon the scum of society.
