the store who had a camera saw his chance and offered to do their portraits at £5 a head! They jumped at it, and he reaped a harvest. As his photographic work is of the poorest description, and as every Chinaman to our eyes—especially in a portrait—looks much like every other one, the results cannot be of much use, but it is complying with this ridiculous law. Some day China will come to her own, and revenge on the Australians the shameful treatment they have always meted out to the Chinese, who have always been simply invaluable there in many ways and are most peaceable, harmless people. It is only the pampered European labourers who have been against them, and but for the Chinese no labour of any sort could have been undertaken in many parts of Australia at all. I can remember, when in Melbourne and Sydney, seeing a wretched Chinaman pursued and ill-used for sport by a cowardly band of larrikins, and no one even thought of interfering. A Chinaman was not regarded as a human being.
There is only one other passenger on board, a young Queenslander, very tall, distinguished-looking, and handsome. Born in Queensland, he does it honour, to judge by his appearance. He is a Mr. Hungerford, has a station on the Mitchell River, flowing into the Gulf of Carpentaria, and, with his brothers, other properties in South Australia and New South Wales. He informed me that his people once owned Farley Castle, in England—where it was he did not know—but at one time there were six barons of the name at the same time. I fell greatly in his estimation because I did not know all about it; but I have since learnt that Farley Castle was indeed a famous place, and the Barons of Hungerford were all he painted them. They would have no need to blush for their Australian descendant.
