<< Previous Page  .....  of it, is no light undertaking. Consider! Over ten thousand acres to be cleared, the scrub burnt off, and the whole ploughed over! Three hundred miles of fencing to be erected! One hundred houses to be built, and a similar number of sets of outbuildings! Huge dams or reservoirs to be excavated and an endless number of wells sunk! A road must be made to the railway, and a special station built to accommodate the needs of the lucky “First Hundred.”

We confess that the consideration of what this involves, and the inner meaning of it all, fires our imagination and enthusiasm. We close our eyes, and see, in fancy, surveyors burdened with instruments all legs and lenses - for exact science is the beginning of these things, just as common sense must continue them and success reward them. Next our imagination pictures coatless men wearing disreputable slouch hats, and “slacks” (only town-made bushmen wear riding breeches), riding around a scene of great activity, picturesquely objurgating the slackers and encouraging the industrious. The clang of hammers and buzz of saws keep up their endless din, what time in a blacksmith’s shop rods, plates, and bars of iron take strange shapes as the sparks fly merrily from anvil and forge. Straining teams draw load after load of timber and iron from the railway, and - bless my soul! What is this snorting along the new-made road the gangers have but lately left? Of all things! A traction engine, with three loaded vans; coming along in style, too!

Gradually the noises subside, and as the last hammer clangs we see stretching away for miles and miles an array of white houses with gleaming roofs. all around and about the houses men are sinking post holes; others are planting posts, and yet others are straining wires - five wires through each post, each strained taut to the king-post, and - what’s that noise? Well! if it isn’t that “durned” engine again: got a twisted belt drive on the fly-wheel and running a saw-mill! Those remaining fence posts won’t take long to cut now, anyway!

Next our imagination sees men little in the distance like ants, busily hitching chain gear on to trees. Now  .....  Next Page >>