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CHAPTER XI.

AUSTRALIAN WINTER-THE FLOODS.

The Victorian Climate.-The Bush in Winter.-The Eucalyptus, or Australian Gum-tree. -Ball at Clunes. - Fire in the main Street. -The Buggy saved.—Down-pour of Rain. — Going Home by Water.—The Floods out.-Clunes submerged.-Calamity at Ballarat.-Damage done by the Flood.-The Chinamen's Gardens washed away.

I was particularly charmed with the climate of Victoria. It is really a pleasure to breathe the air, it is so pure, dry, and exhilarating. Even when the temperature is at its highest, the evenings are delightfully cool. There is none of that steamy, clammy, moist heat during the day, which is sometimes so difficult to bear in the English summer; and as for the spring of Australia, it is simply perfection.

It was midwinter when I arrived in Majorca—that is, about the end of June, corresponding with our English December. Although a wood fire was very pleasant, especially in the evenings, it was usually warm at midday. The sky was of a bright, clear blue, and sometimes the sun shone with considerable power. No one would think of going out with a greatcoat in winter excepting for a long drive through the bush or at night. In fact, the season can scarcely be termed winter; it is rather like a prolonged autumn, extending from May to August. Snow never falls at least I never saw any during the two winters I spent in the colony; and al

though there were occasional slight frosts at night in the month of August, I never observed the ice thicker than a wafer. I once saw a heavy shower of hail, as it might fall in England in summer, but it melted off the ground directly.

In proof of the mildness of the climate, it may further be mentioned that the Australian vegetation continues during the winter months. The trees remain clothed in their usual garb, though the leaves are of a somewhat browner hue than in the succeeding seasons.

The leaves of the universal gum-tree, or Eucalyptus of Australia, are pointed, each leaf seeming to grow separately, and they are so disposed as to give the least possible shade. Instead of presenting one surface to the sky and the other to the earth, as is the case with the trees of Europe, they are often arranged vertically, so that both sides are equally exposed to the light. Thus the gum-tree has a pointed and sort of angular appearance, the leaves being thrust out in all directions and at every angle. The blue gum and some others have the peculiarity of throwing off their bark in white-gray longitudinal strips or ribbons, which, hanging down the branches, give them a singularly ragged look, more particularly in winter. From this description, it will be gathered that the gum-tree is not a very picturesque tree; nevertheless, I have seen some in the far bush which were finely proportioned, tall, and might even be called handsome.

The fine winter weather continues for months, the days being dry and fine, with clear blue sky overhead, until about the end of August, when rain begins to fall pretty freely. During the first winter I spent at Major

ca, very little rain fell during two months, and the country was getting parched, cracked, and brown. Then every body prayed for rain, for the sake of the flocks and herds, and the growing crops. At last the rain came, and it came with a vengeance.

It so happened that about the middle of October I was invited to accompany a friend to a ball given at Clunes, a township about fifteen miles distant, and we decided to accept the invitation. As there had been no rain to speak of for months, the tracks through the bush were dry and hard. We set off in the afternoon in a onehorse buggy, and got down to Clunes safely before it was dark.

Clunes is a rather important place, the centre of a considerable gold-mining district. Like most new upcountry towns, it consists of one long street, and this one long street is situated in a deep hollow, close to a creek. The creek was now all but dry, like the other creeks or rivers in the neighborhood.

The ball was given in a large square building belonging to the Rechabites, situated in the upper part of the town. The dancing began about half past nine, and was going on very briskly, when there was a sudden cry of "fire." All rushed to the door; and, sure enough, there was a great fire raging down the street, about a quarter of a mile off. A column of flame shot up behind the houses, illuminating the whole town. The gentlemen of the place hastened away to look after their property, and the dance seemed on the point of breaking up. I had no property to save, and I remained. But the news came from time to time that the fire was spreading; and here, where nearly every house was of wood, the progress

of a fire, unless checked, is necessarily very rapid. Fears now began to be entertained for the safety of the town.

The fire was said to be raging in the main street, quite close to the principal inn. Then suddenly I remembered that I too had something to look after. There was the horse and buggy, for which my friend and I were responsible, as well as our changes of clothes. I ran down the street, elbowing my way through the crowd, and reached close to where the firemen were hard at work plying their engines. Only two small wooden houses intervened between the fire and the inn. I hastened into the stable, but found my companion had been there before me. He had got out the horse and buggy, and our property was safe. Eight houses had been burnt down along one side of the street before the fire was got under.

After this excitement, nothing remained but to go back and finish the dance. Our local paper at Majorca -for you must know we have "an organ"-gave us a hard hit, comparing us to Nero, who fiddled while Rome was burning, whereas we danced while Clunes was burning. But we did not resume the dance till the fire was extinguished. However, every thing must come to an end, and so did the dance at about five o'clock in the morning.

Shortly after the fire the rain had begun to fall, and it was now coming down steadily. We had nothing for it but to drive back the fifteen miles to Majorca, as we had to be at business by 10 o'clock. We put on our heaviest things, and set off just as the first peared. As we drove down the smouldering remains of the fire. fore, I had been talking to a chemist across his counter,

streaks of daylight apstreet, we passed the Where, the night be

there was nothing but ashes; every thing had been burnt to the ground. Farther on were the charred timbers and smoking ruins of the house at which the fire had been stayed.

It seemed

The rain came down heavier and heavier. to fall solid, in masses, soaking through rugs, top-coats, and water-proofs, that we had before deemed impervious. However, habit is every thing, and when once we got thoroughly soaked, we became comparatively indifferent to the rain, which never ceased falling. We were soon in the bush, where there was scarcely a track to guide us. But we hastened on, knowing that every moment increased the risk of our missing the way or being hindered by the flood. We splashed along through the mud and water. As we drove through a gully, we observed that what had before been a dry track was now changed into a torrent. Now hold the mare well in! We are in the water, and it rushes against her legs as if striving to pull her down. But she takes willingly to the collar again, and with one more good pull lands us safely on the other side, out of reach of the ugly, yellow, foaming

torrent.

By the gray light of the morning we saw the water pouring down the sides of the high ground as we passed. It was clear that we must make haste if we would reach Majorca before the waters rose. We knew that at one part of the road we should have to drive near the bank of the creek, which was sure to be flooded very soon. Our object, accordingly, was to push on so as to pass this most perilous part of our journey.

On we drove, crossing dips in the track where foaming streams were now rushing along, while they roared

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