There was one old lubra called "Kitty, the postman." When Mr. Binney first came into that part of the country, Kitty showed him where to get water for his oxen, and on that spot he began his life as a sheep-farmer. Kitty would carry letters for him to his friends as far away as thirty miles. He could always depend on her honesty and efficiency, so she became a privileged character. She must have been of a great age when I saw her, for she remembered well the time when no white man could be seen in the land. She had free entry to any of the buildings, and loved to smoke her pipe in the men's hut, for all the aboriginies, both men and women, smoked. She told me that the blacks did not hate the white men so much as they did the blacks of other tribes.
The cook at the men's hut was frequently visited by "sundowners." He told me that many of these stated that they were sons of doctors or clergymen, and were well educated men. I had a strange experience with a "traveller." One evening, when our candles were lit for the evening meal, a boundary rider brought in a woman whom he found wandering about by herself. There was a vacant place by me and she sat down. As she had a sunbonnet on I could not see her face well. Every visitor that came so late would stop all night, so the question arose "Where was she to sleep?" Not one of us was willing to share our room with her, so Mrs. Binney said she must sleep in the laundry. I took here there and she sat down while I prepared her bed. In order to see her face I put a lighted candle close to her, but she immediately blew it out. Then she took out a pipe and began to smoke. From a glimpse I caught of her features I thought she looked like a man. So I went to tell Mrs. Binney. As the laundry was full of valuable clothes I thought something might be stolen, or the place might be set fire to by the sparks from the stranger's pipe. I was really afraid of her; and so it was decided that she was not to sleep in the laundry. The needlewoman came with me, and we told her that she might sleep in an unused hut beyond the fence. In a voice like thunder she said, "Show me where I am to sleep." The hut had no door or glass in the window, so I pinned my apron over the window, and then we fled in terror.
She did not wait for breakfast, but went away in the early morning with one of our teamsters—the man who had found her. When they had gone about six miles she jumped out of the dray, and ran into the bush. The driver went on to Tatiara and told the police. After that I was worried by troopers and blacktrackers. The questions they asked me would have filled a book. They picked up the tracks near Wellington, but lost them again. They all thought, as I did, that our strange visitor was a man dressed in woman's clothing.
But there were pleasanter incidents than these. The arrival of "her Majesty's Royal Mail" was looked forward to with eagerness by all. The coach was a queer-looking vehicle, with a large "V.R." painted on it. The horses were changed at the station, and the coach went on to Tatiara township, calling at other stations both coming and going. How quickly "mail day" seemed to come round again. Bushranging had been prevalent, but the coach had always luckily escaped molestation. I like looking back after all this time.
It seemed lonely, for we were far from the sight of anybody we knew, and visitors were scarce. The needlewoman and I used lo take the children out amongst the tall gum trees. We had no perambulator, but there was a little Scotch pony for the baby to sit on. The foliage of the trees was dense, and they were close together, but we could always find the tracks. One day we went a long way, and the little pony stepped into what seemed to be a circle of snakes. He stood still, and so did we, for we were too frightened to move. The snakes fairly leaped from the ground and bounded in amongst the young bushes. I never ventured so far into the woods again, but I saw more snakes after that. A dog was a very good protector, for by his barking he would always show us where the snakes were. The housemaid, whom I have alluded to, found a snake under her pillow one night when she was going to bed. We shared the same room, but I am happy to say I never saw a snake in the room. The bedroom was right outside the house, and there was nothing to hinder the snakes from entering it, so that it may easily be imagined that we were careful where we stepped.
Our time was passing away. We could see by the preparations at the woolshed that the shearing season was near. The loneliness and silence of the bush gave place to the bustle and hum of human beings hurrying about. There were supposed to be altogether about a hundred men in and about the sheds, and where all the people came from was a mystery to me. What with woolclassing and woolwashing and woolsorting and the packing the wool into great bales ready to send to England there was a lot of work. In the middle of it all came the surveyors with a staff of men to cut up the land in allotments, as Mr. Binney's lease had nearly expired. Now the train to Melbourne runs through what were then desolate wilds.
They wanted me to stop for another year, but I would not. Mrs. Binney said I was the only girl who had ever left the station without getting married. I told her I had a suitor somewhere else. The young girl who went up with me was married to a "cockatoo" farmer. I hope she has been happy, for she was a nice girl. I have been a wife now for 26 years. Life is full of changes. It was not stated in the agreement I made that Mr. Binney should pay our expenses back to Adelaide. I had not thought of that when I was engaged to go the South-East. I thought the journey was such a short one that we could come and go when we liked. It was settled that I would return by the mail coach and wait at the hotel for my trunk, which was to be sent by the wool-dray. There was no other choice for me. By this time I was well acquainted with the driver of the mail, as he used to have lunch with us sometimes. He was a middle-aged man with a wife and family, and was understood to be reliable. So far I had trusted everybody, for I was young and happy, and I did not feel the least afraid.
I LEAVE THE STATION AND RETURN TO ADELAIDE.
From this time the days flew by quickly till the last night I was to spend in the bush came round. Truly, I never knew till then that I had so many friends. People came from such a distance to say "Good-bye," for the coach started early in the morning. I had a cheque from Mr. Binney, and I had never had so much money before in all my life. I was told to get it cashed at Robetown, as Mr. Binney had no banking account in Adelaide. I had a nice present, too, from Mrs. Binney, and one from Miss Binney, which I have yet in my possession.