A CHEQUERED CAREER.*
THE theory that a youth who proves unmanageable at home will succeed in the Colonies is, perhaps, not now quite so much believed in as it formerly was ; but it is not uncommon, even yet, to hear the advice given, "Send him to Australia," when the subject in question is one who, in addition to a marked disinclination for work, has taken up many of the habits of a "wild," or even of a decidedly vicious life. No mis- take could be greater, and the writer of the work before us will have done good service, if he succeeds in impress- ing this fact upon British parents. His fifteen years' colonial experience is interesting, not as a record of any surprising adventures, nor for what he tells us of the natural or social characteristics of the countries, but as showing how much easier it is for a man without strength of principle to go down the hill when removed from accustomed social restraints ; as also what facilities there are—especially in Australia— for the steady man, or one who seriously desires to reform, to raise himself, or, at any rate, to gain an honest living. We are often tempted to think, on hearing of cases where emigrants have succeeded—except, of course, in the case of farmers, who are exceptionally benefited by the facilities for the acquirement of land—that the same display of courage and perseverance at home would have produced similar results.
But without taking into account the stimulus which must naturally be afforded by a new country, new associations, and a fresh start, there do seem to be many more chances in the Colonies for a steady lad than there are at home ; and, more- over, as the author reminds us, in England a poor gentleman must wear good clothes, though his stomach or his tailor should have to suffer. He cannot put on the fustian of a lower class and turn to manual labour, for if his own pride would permit of it, he has scarcely the right to wound the susceptibility of his people. Moreover, he cannot obtain a situation without a character, and it is more than probable that his former position would itself stand in the way of his getting work ; while in Australia the first requisite is to be "willing," and the man with this Qualification is tolerably safe to get on. "Dingo's" account is that" there is no better place in the world for a man without money than the Australian Colonies. If he is willing to work, and accept the first thing that turns up, he need never be long out of collar.'" At the same time, he tells us that "if a young man, on arrival in Australia, betrays any vicious propensities, no matter what position in society he is entitled to, he will speedily receive the cold-shoulder from all, except the unvarnished loafers, who hang about him until his money is done, and to which class, ere long, he will probably belong." If this writer's account of his own performances be, as he avers, perfectly truthful, it is easy to understand why he should prefer keeping to his incognito ; for although, as he assures us, he never "went to the bad," there are few fathers who would like to have it made public that the son who had passed through Eton had, even without falling into vice or dis- honesty, been employed as cattle-drover, miner, and domestic servant ; yet these 'constitute but a few of the queer positions which this youth, who disdained a merchant's office and would not qualify for the Civil Service, was quite content to fill.
"Let me have a commission, father !" is his request ; but as a commission meant, he candidly tells us, billiards, it is not surpris- ing that the proposal was met with the rejoinder that it would not have been objected to, had" Dingo' been the kind of person who could drink water while his brother-officers drank champagne.
And such self-denial not being in his line, and a Robinson-Crusoe
kind of existence appearing most attractive, the young man carried his point, and embarked for New Zealand, beginning his
experiences on a sheep farm twenty-five miles from Napier, which
at that time (1865) was a mere embryo township, boasting one small street of wooden houses, many of them stores, in which a
heterogeneous mass of articles was exposed for sale. A young fellow of twenty, although he may revolt against regular em- ployment, does not usually mind a little hardship, and "Dingo" was possessed of that versatile character which easily adapts
itself to surroundings, so that, as he tells us, he was immediately at home with people of all sorts and conditions. He says, however, what we can easily believe, that close intercourse with station " hands " is not particularly conducive to good morals. A few months were passel by the author with tolerable * A Chequered Career, or, Fifteen Years in Ausiralia and New Zealand. London : Richard Bentley and Son.
satisfaction in receiving his bush education, the monotony of the life varied by an occasional incursion into the Maori country in quest of stolen sheep, or by a visit to a friendly Pah. But salt mutton and damper not being exactly to "Dingo's" mind, he returns to Auckland, and after an unsuccessful expedition to the Bay of Islands, which reduces him to a state of impecuniosity, resolves to try his luck on Middle Island, at the West-Coast diggings. The difficulty, however, is how to get there ; the passage-money is five pounds, and he possesses but one. Getting himself up for the occasion—for his great maxim is that when you apply for a place you are bound to look fit for it—he succeeds in engaging himself as cook's mate on board one of the coasting vessels, and, after eight days of this work, finds himself at Westport, a town of canvas shanties on the Buller River, and has to look out for some means of proceed- ing to his further destination, his first care being to earn a little money, which he does by unloading timber from the ship in which he has made the passage.
Afterwards he falls in with a friendly butcher, who feeds his dog,'Wattle,' and provides his master with a " billet " to drive sheep up to the Mokihinui River, where the new rush had just set in? "As I walked away," he says, "with Wattie ' trotting by my side, I thought, 'Who says it is a hard world?' They know nothing about it—do they, Wattle ?' It's a pleasant old world, full of brotherly love and good butchers." On reading " Dingo's " book, one has little difficulty in agreeing with him that some people are born Bohemians, and that he is one of them ; but he really goes rather far, when after sheep-driving he takes to butchering. He next proceeds to drive pack-horses to one after another of the West-Coast diggings, and at this juncture he is summoned home. Twelve months with his family have, however, only the effect of convincing them that a man with so erratic a disposition could not be expected to succeed in England; so " Dingo " returns to New Zealand, with a small capital—which, like many another, speedily vanishes—and, after taking charge of a canteen on Lake Taupo, letting-out horses and driving a hansom cab in Napier, and doing a little acting in Christchurch, he betakes himself to Melbourne, in the hope of going upon the stage; and in this design he ultimately succeeds, not, however, without having first served his apprenticeship as warder in a lunatic asylum, as strapper in a livery stable, and as groom—the first of the three situations having proved, as might have been ex- pected, utterly unbearable.
Beginning his theatrical career in Melbourne, "Dingo," being engaged as her agent by a certain Mrs. S—, with whom he had acted in New Zealand, accompanies her on a starring tour to Sydney, to Brisbane, throughout Queensland generally, and afterwards to Adelaide, at times performing in good theatres, and to fairly-cultured audiences, at others in a barn, a wool- shed, or any place that may offer, and being reduced not infrequently to wish that, instead of Hamlet and Mac- beth, they had brought with them a dog-and-monkey show, or other entertainment of a similarly alluring kind, especially when it happened that they found themselves in the wake of two circuses and the " Lottie " troupe of gymnasts. " Dingo " seems to have got on pretty well while on the boards, and we are rather surprised to find him so tired of a "knockabout, roving life," as to be willing to exchange it for that of domestic service. It is fair to say, however, that before accepting the latter, this wandering spirit had made attempts in several other directions, and was very near enlisting in the police force ; indeed he remarks that had there been a vacant pulpit going, he should certainly have applied for it. On the whole, though he tells us that the position of coachman is not the one he was born to, it seems more congenial to him than any other, as he is inclined to mark with red letters the three years passed in the service of a gentleman who kept a large establishment. This part of the affair is rather incomprehensible, when you consider that the author claims the training of a gentleman. We can under- stand a man's being obliged to accept an inferior position and refusing to feel degraded by doing menial work, but not his rejoicing in being "in request amongst swell coachmen," and "beginning to look down on doctors' men' as an inferior grade of human beings," or, when too closely questioned, glibly telling any amount of lies to prove himself "to the manner born," making his father acorn-chandler, his brothers coachmen, and adding, "If I had been asked what my grandmother was, I think I should have put her in service too." And another very odd circumstance is that when called upon to
act as waiter at a hunting breakfast, " Dingo " takes the wine- glasses off the table to fill them, until his master admonishes him not to do so. Surely an Eton boy, and one, too, who did' not leave home till almost out of his teens, should have known better. However this may be, the writer is quite of Buxton's opinion, that there is a great and unexplored field for the novelist in servant-life, as seen from within, but he maintains that it is absolutely necessary to make one of the circle, before its humours can be adequately understood or portrayed. Having had' considerable experience himself, why does not" Dingo" take up the role of apologist of the servants' hall, and tell us a little more about the "happy bondage" in which he was, for the first time in his life, quite contented?
We are not informed why he left this elysium, but probably he did so with honour, as his master obtained for him the situa- tion of storekeeper on a station within four hundred miles of Adelaide,—a sort of desert, covered with salt-bush and shrub, on which sheep feed ; where running water is unknown, and' where a dry, sandy creek, with a few under-sized gum-trees, is looked upon as an oasis,—the only residence being a three- roomed " pug " hut, which is a dwelling built of pieces of loose surface-stone, with layers of pug or clay plastered in between, this place being inhabited by the manager, his wife, and " Dingo ;" while a yet poorer construction, called a" dug-out," served as kitchen and men's lodging-house. This simple style of architecture—the roof is of corrugated iron, and transferable —has its advantages; but such dwellings harbour scorpions, centipedes, and all sorts of vermin, and snakes of many kinds abound in the neighbourhood. Kangaroo and emu- hunting, of which there was plenty, diversified an existence which in itself was sufficiently monotonous, but the health- fulness and activity of which compensated for its deficiencies. According to our author, the liking it or not chiefly depends upon whether it turns out a satisfactory monetary speculation. " Dingo " sums up its pros and cons in rather an amusing- manner. In his own case, this "rolling stone" would appear to have closed his fifteen years' wanderings sound in health, and without a shilling, with his heart bounding at the prospect of returning to European civilisation. Did he do so, if not a sadder, yet a wiser man ?
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