Became an 'Enfield's Speaker.
He, with the Honourable James Norton, his neighbour and class-fellow, but continued unchanged the steadfastness and success of his school record. With one's schoolfellows the physical proportion seems to alter strangely and, in a sense, unnaturally in the aftertime. The big boys, the eldsters of one's early days, when met with in other years, appear unaccountably shrunken; while the 'little boys' of the same period seem to have developed abnormally and assumed the gigantic. For instance, a small orphan creature was brought to the school very young. He seemed unable to face the strangeness of his surroundings. When, years afterwards, I met at the race-ground of another colony an athletic six-foot manager of a cattle-station, mounted on a fiery steed, and by repute the show stock-rider of the district, I could not reconcile it to credibility that he should be the 'Bluey' (such was his sobriquet) of our school days. He was, nevertheless.
The Broughtons of Tumut, Archer and Robert—now no more—were among the elders of the Sydney College. During the last two years I have visited their homes in that romantic corner of New South Wales. All this time I had a curiosity to explore their ancient town of Tumut under the shadow of the Australian Alps, with its rushing river, green valleys, and romantic scenery. I shall always feel thankful that my desire has been gratified.
We were not permitted to go boating in the harbour unless in charge of relatives. And very properly. But we were allowed to bathe in the summer afternoons, after applying for formal leave.
Our greatest treat was, on the Saturday half-holiday, the picnic to Double Bay. We chose this as being a quasi-romantic spot. Some one had commenced a mansion there and had not completed it. There was a deserted vineyard, which looked like an amphitheatre; an artificial fish-pond too—an object of deep interest. In those golden summer eves we gathered bagfuls of the native currant—a small fruit capable of being converted into jam in spite of a startling acidity of flavour—and having eaten our lunch, 'sub Jove,' used to fish, bathe, and scamper about the beach till it was time to return. Still runs the tiny creek into which we used to dash 'like troutlets in a pool'; still ebb and flow the tides of the little bay; but the neighbourhood is crowded with buildings, incongruous to the scene, and the glory of youthful adventure, which then pervaded all things, like the genius loci, has, with the long-past years, fled for ever.
SYDNEY FIFTY YEARS AGO
Soon after we went to live at Enmore, I being then nine or ten years old, my first pony was presented to me by my father. A tiny Timor mare was little Bet; Dick Webb, the well-known horse-dealer and livery-stable keeper, being the intermediary. Cargoes of these small Eastern horses, degenerate in size only, from scant feeding and crowded pastures, were then imported from the islands of Timor and Lombok. Disrespectful remarks have been written touching the quality of these early Australian hackneys. They were accused of spoiling the breed of our horses. Spoiling, forsooth! Nothing better ever trod on turf than these miniature Barbs, for such they undoubtedly were. Clean-legged, long-pasterned, bright-eyed, lean-headed, mostly with well-placed shoulders and well-bent hocks, each with pluck enough for a troop of horse—where could one get a better cross than these wonderful little 'tats,' with legs and feet of iron, and though only ranging from ten to twelve hands high, able to carry a heavy man a long day's journey?
The Shetland pony, grand little chap as he may be, is a degenerate cart-horse, nothing more; he can trot, walk, and carry a burly gamekeeper up a steep hillside, but he has no pace. The Timor ponies, on the contrary, with light-weights, could make very fair racing time, were high-couraged and untiring, in or out of condition, bequeathing to their offspring the fire and speed of the Eastern horse, with a quality of legs and feet difficult to find nowadays. My little mare was a trotter, a jumper, a clever all-round hack. A colt of my next Timor mare I used to ride when I was a man grown, nearly twelve stone in weight, the which impost he could carry like a bird, and even bolt with occasionally.
More than one fashionably bred racehorse of the present day has the blood of a Timor ancestress in his veins, and though the fact is not obtruded, doubtless owes the staying power and undeniable legs and feet to that infusion. In those early days whole cargoes of them were brought through the streets of Sydney by the sailors, the manner being thus—half-a-dozen were tied neck to neck with strong short ropes, a halter attached to the one on the near side of the string, the which a couple of stalwart sailors tugged manfully, another encouraging the line from the rear. They were half-covered with hieroglyphs in the shape of brands. Prices ranged from five pounds to ten, according to quality. The sons of well-to-do people were to be seen mounted upon them. When fed and groomed they were as showy and fast hackneys as a light-weight would desire.
While dwelling upon these incidents of an earlier day, the hours and limits of school deserve notice. At the Sydney College we were expected to attend at nine o'clock in the morning. At mid-day an hour's recess was granted. In that interval the boarders dined; the day-scholars having disposed of their lunches hurriedly, went in for as much play as the time would admit. From 1 o'clock till 3 P.M. was occupied by afternoon school; the day-scholars departing then whithersoever they listed. The boarders dispersed to play cricket, went for a walk or into town—after applying for leave in the latter cases. On Saturday we worked from nine till twelve, when the half-holiday set in. There was no whole holiday in my day. And three morning hours, multiplied by the weeks in a year, should account for a fair measure of work.