AN EASTER HOLIDAY IN NEW SOUTH WALES.

Otago Witness, Issue 2565, 13 May 1903, Page 71

AN EASTER HOLIDAY IN NEW SOUTH WALES.

By CIGAKETTE.

"What you want is a holiday," said Jack, with decision, after listening patiently to my mournful recital of Mary Jane's^ delinquencies and the unavailing efforts o" the dentist to cure ray neuralgia. "You want a change, that's the long aud the short of it; there's nothing like change of air for neuralgia, so give Mary Jane the sack and take a holiday." "But what about the children?" "Oh, take Enid with you ; I'll look after Bob. We'll bachclorise for a bit, and get our meals in town.' I began co feel better already ; but where to go? That was the question. Jack took up the newspaper, and looked through the column of "Country Resorts." "Hum, ha —hullo ! vhy, here's the -very thing you want : 'Pure mountain air, 3000 ft nigh ; poultry, milk, cream, fruit, lovely scenery, shooting, riding, driving, tennis, and pingpong. Terms 25s a week.' " It certainly sounded inviting, so we got the railway guide, and found that Everton was seven hours' journey from Sydney by train, and the fare only 12s, "excursion. ' "Write to-night," said Jack, "and say they can expect you on Saturday. Where's Enid?" "Doing her lessons'" — she was supposed to be studying for tbe "Junior." We called her in ; she came with the cat in her arms, for whom she had been making an Elizabethan frill of foolscap. "Doesn't he look like George Reid?" she said. We unfolded our scheme, and she executed a war dance of delight. Then Bob appeared, and as soon as he heard there was no fishing at Everton, was quite content to remain at home. "You'll try and get me a riding skirt, mother : I must learn to ride," said Enid. '"You'd never be able to stick on," jeered Bob; "yon're too fat.' A war of words ensued, but the end. of it was .the letter was despatched, and Saturday fixed for our depa-ture. We had to get up -it half-past 5 to get to the station in time for our train, but it was a lovely morning, one of Sydney's perfect da3 r s. The harbour was like a mill pond, and the city looked quite unfamiliar and deserted in the early morning hours. We had taken second -class tickets, and only had two minutes to find a scat. We were hustled into a carriage already full, nnd while Enid was shouting directions to Daddy not to forget to feed the parrot, and to take the dog for a walk even- day, the train moved off There is .sometliinjj exliilarating jn a railway journey, especially when 3 - our destination is vague. You form mental pictures of places and peoplp which are never realised : perhaps that i? why travelling Las such a charm for almost everyone, it appeals so to the imagination. As soon i as the train started, most of our fellow- I passengers opened iiviall parcels and finished theii interrupted breakfasts ; then they subsided behind newspapers and books until we arrived at Mount Victoria. Here everyone had to get out, and any who were going farther had to wait two hours for the next train from Sydney to come along and take them on. "Well, why couldn't we have come by the later train, mother, instead of waiting here two hours?" said Enid. I "Because, my dear," said an irate old gentleman opposite us, "the New South Wales railways are run to inconvenience the public. I asked the same question myself, and they told me if I wanted to pay excursion fares I must go by exclusion trains, SO to punish US they msiL-p. i.« «-nit hsre

two solid hours. Never mind, it will give us time to get something to eat," and he stamped away, muttsring into the refreshment room. By-and-bye we followed, s.-ul partook of tea and sandwishes. Enid drew my attention to the big holes in the tablecloth and the white paper carefully spread underneath in a vain attempt to conceal them. "I suppose they think everyone is in too great a hurry to notice the holes,'' she said. We took a short stroll after lunch, and at 2 o'clock our train arrived, and vre proceeded on our journey, this time in a far Tnore comfortable carriage. We managed to secure corner seats, and so had a splendid view of the zig-zag, a marvellous piece 'of engineering. From the top of a mountain you look down and see three rows of rails, one below the other, to each of which the train gradually climbs down ; and ■by-and-bye you look up, and there towers the mountain above, and you wonder how it. was managed. At the bottom lie Ksk 'Bank and Lithgow, two busy mining townships. They look dreary, dusty places after the glorious mountain scenery . we have left behind, and the rows and row* ! of miners' cottages have a forlorn appearance with their grimy, flowerless back yards, over which t he prevailing coal dust has laid its blighting Imrid. By degrees, as the hours slip by, the passengers become confidential. Australians are nothing if not communicative; we have listened fan two hours to a woman in the next compartment ,vho has been relating to the man opposite all the complaints her baby has suffered from since its birth, and all the different foods she has tried on it. He seems a long-suffering individual, but at last he grows desperate. "Do you know what I should do if I -were you?" he says. "I should simply try giving it nothing at all!" There" is an : audible titter ; Enid gets up on the seat, | and looks over into the next compartment. ; j the train stops. "Gocd-bye, madame ; thank you for a very pleasant journey," j says the male voice ; the baby sets ud a fresh veil, the door bangs, the train starts off again, and away we rush into what seems an endless tunnel. "This is where that accident happened some 'years back," .says a meßincholy voice in the corner ; "tiie engine-driver, was overcome by the sulphur fumes and fell off, and — — " I strain my ears to catch the rest, but the rush' and roar of the train drowns the voice. Will daylight never come? The melancholy voice drones on, relating awful horrors ; but at last we glide out into the daylight once more ; down go the window,?, and the fresh air blows through again. One of the lady passengers creates a diversion by being violently sick, and a sympathetic Scotchwoman -hands over some ; whisky ; . then the conversation turns on I "indigestion," and this lasts till Everton 'is reached. We tcp out into the delicious evening air, away rushes the train, and w. i look about among the bystanders for some- ■ one to meet us. "Are you for Watervale?" asks a dark young man. "Yes," I answer. "This way, please," and we follow him with half a dozen others across the station out into the road, where a Victoria and two lean horses are standing. "Surely we are not all expected Lo pactv | into that vehicle?" remarked one of the ' party. "Oh, there's plenty of room." said the driver. "Three can come on the box p.v.d the rest inside." "Why, I'd fill one seat all myself." remarked a colossal female, "and then there's the luggage?*' I looked at her, and mentally christened her "Hebe." Her peroxidiscd hair gleamed under a wide straw hat weighted with crimson poppies, her double chin rested on , an elaborate silk blouse of steel blue, and 1 her massive limbs displayed their contour under a closely-clinging voile skirt. She i was accompanied by a- tremendous dress 1 basiet, bulging at all sides, a bundle of wraps, and a leather trunk. However, the. driver rose to the occasion. He brought out a piece of rope from under a seat, and I lashed on some of the luggage behind ; the rest was distributed about under the seats, ami one by cne we were packed yway — men, guns, women, and dresstxaskets^ Enid sat on my lap, me man stood on the step, and at "last we started. The horses truggled manfully with the load, anoV on the flat we went fairly well ; but after four miles the hilly country began, and most of us got out and walked. "Hebe" remained in the carriage, "to look after the luggage," she said. When we re-entered the vehicle there was a strong smell of spirits, -aid as we clattered down the next hill the roll of rugs fell apart, and out flew a bo'itle of wiiisky, smashing on to the road. ''Htbe" used strong language, and carefully strapped up the bundle of rugs again. m± A glorious sunset faded into night ; mile after mile we crawled along ; .lye moon rose, and a cool wind sprang up. At each hill we gladly got out and walked to keep ourselves warm. We had all scraped acquaintance by this time, and everyone j began to talk about dinner. How long tho twelve miles Fcoined ! The artist had lost interest in the scenery, the woman-doctor could only talk of food, the city clerks left off discussing theatres, and spoke of steak and onions ; and the singer hummed "Ah che la morte" no longer, and tried to find solace in tobacco. But, "all things come to those who wait,' and at last those dreary twelve miles came to an end ; the last hill was climbed, and there in a hollow lay Watervale. an o'.d stone cottage shadowed by gloomy pines. A pale-faced daughter of the house received us. Her hair was black as night. Then her sister appeared, her locks and complexion being glaringly artificial, her manners the ame ; her name was Violet. Sbe showed us into a room, to which we descended by three stone steps. It was a vauit-like chamber, but the only one available. "We are always very full at Easter." sho remarked ; " there are 30 staying here now." We wondered when* they all slept. Presently a bell rana, and we found our way

to the dining room — a large room used also as a ballroom. Violet showed us where to 3it, and twice we were asked what we would take — "Chops or pork?" But neither one nor the other appeared. There were a great many strange faces at the table. Some of the ladies were in even- , ing dress. "Hebe" had chummed with a fat man who sat next her, and he was attending to her wants ; a couple of dazedlooking waiting maids were rushing about ; and Violet and her sister were shrieking with laughter over a funny story being told by a red-faced man next them. The table decorations were bits of "bush" stuck in pots and adorned with paper flowers. The woman-doctor, who sat next me, began to get desperate. She seized the next maid who passed, and in a loud voice asked, "Are you going to bring us anything to eat or not 7 ' Then rye were each served with a fried :hop, and very tough they were. After that a rice pudding without eggs appeared, and a black decoction which was called tea. Then the table was cleared, and some of the company sang while the servants washed up at the other end of the room. We retired early. • "Don't be late for breakfast." said Violet as we wished her good-night ; "there's a picnic arranged for to-morrow, and we want to make an early start. Do you like a cup of tea in the morning? Yes ; goo;l-n\ght." "I don't like that yellow-haired woman," said Knid when we reached our vault-like chamber, and I think this is a horrid place, and I don't believe there are any horses to ride. I asked one of the children, and they said there were only two ponies, and the boys were always on them." "Never mind ; wait till the morning — you will be able to explore then, and perhaps you may find an opossum." Her face brightened ; she doted on animals, and had decided to keep a home for lost dogs when she ''grew up." "Oh, yes, there are heaps of opossums here ; one if the boys shot five last night, and there are wallabies and rabbits, and parrots and ,«ill birds, and a Chinese cook. I'm so sleepy, mother ; good-night." (To be continued.)