Explore "Old Melbourne Memories" by Rolf Boldrewood on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It seems only the other day -- but surely it must be a long time ago -- that January evening of 1844, when I camped my cattle near the old burying-ground at North Melbourne. I was bound for the Western district, where I proposed to "take up a run. " And towards this pastoral paradise the dawn saw my "following" winding its way next morning.
A modest drove and slender outfit were mine; all that the hard times had spared. Two or three hundred well-bred cattle, a dray and team with provisions for six months, two stock-horses, one faithful old servant, one young ditto (unfaithful), L1 in my purse -- _voila tout_. Rather a limited capital to begin the world with; but what did I want with money in those days? I was a boy, which means a prince -- happy, hopeful, healthy, beyond all latter-day possibilities, bound on a journey to seek my fortune. All the fairy-tale conditions were fulfilled. I had "horse to ride and weapon to wear" -- that is, a 12-foot stock-whip by Nangus Jack -- clothes, tools, guns, and ammunition; a new world around and beyond; what could money do for the gentleman-adventurer burning with anticipation of heroic exploration? Such thoughts must have passed through my brain, inasmuch as I invested 75 per cent of my cash in the purchase of a cattle dog. Poor Dora, she barked her last some thirty-five years agone.