comfortable cottage, wherein the visitor was supplied with an evening meal, bed, and breakfast, all comfortably arranged. His horse would of course be cared for, paddocked, and brought up in the morning. One would fancy this gratuitous entertainment would have been voted sufficient. But the roving pastoralists were dissatisfied. They did not want merely meat and drink—they wanted a welcome: to have speech also with the master of the house. He was suspected of considering himself too good for his surroundings. And so 'Carlsruhe' was gradually avoided—not that the perhaps too fastidious 'Count' Ebden cared a jot.
An amusing contretemps with respect to this novel disposal of guests was that related of the late Sir James Hawthorn. The good old gentleman arrived late one evening at 'Carlsruhe,' naturally concluding that he would receive special consideration. It did not so chance, however, whether from non-recognition—he was not a knight then, but a doctor—or some other cause. Before leaving the visitors' hut in the morning, he left a formal note of thanks for his night's lodging, and enclosed a cheque for a guinea as payment.
But the Colonial Treasurer of the future was equal to the occasion. He made answer by post, in a carefully-worded epistle, acknowledging 'a most extraordinary communication, containing a cheque, for which he was totally unable to conceive any reasonable explanation, and had forwarded to Secretary of the Lunatic Asylum.'
After the changes which turned the homesteads of the larger stations into small villages, the 'big house,' as it came to be called, was no longer expected to accommodate the proprietor, the overseer, and the young gentleman learning Colonial experience, in addition to every wanderer that turned up. The overseer generally had a commodious if, perhaps, plainly-furnished cottage allotted to him. This came to be known as the 'barracks,' and to be used as a convenient abode for strangers and pilgrims, as well as for the storekeeper, the working overseers, and the young gentlemen. Here, in summer, they could sleep on the verandah, smoke and yarn on the same, or, in winter, around the cheerful fire, without danger of disturbing the squatter's domestic arrangements. This of course without prejudice to personal friends or strangers of distinction.
