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Updated: June 23, 2025
In the case of Englishmen there is some evidence as to a popular preference. A recent traveller in Australia informs us that the three books which he found on every squatter's shelf, and which at last he knew before he crossed the threshold that he should be sure to find, were Shakespeare, the Bible, and Macaulay's Essays.
"Tess," he threatened, "ye know me well 'nough not to come any monkey shines on me. I says again, get yer hat, fer I'm goin' to take ye one way or t'other." "I told you I couldn't," she answered. "I'm not any longer a little girl. I've got to work. I want to learn things and take care of my baby." She couldn't have said anything that would have fired the squatter's rage any quicker. Her baby!
How was she to soften the hurt her answer would inflict, even her loving heart couldn't imagine. "She has a baby boy," she whispered. "God!" groaned Deforrest. "The baby was born a few days ago, and every day the squatter's been at our house, ostensibly to sell something, but really to tell me about her.... I saw him this morning, and he says they are both doing nicely.
This may sound like badinage, but it is uttered in sad earnest. The wife's irrational longing to extract absolute sympathy of taste, opinion and feeling, from her wedded lord, is a baneful growth which is as sure to spring up about the domestic hearth as pursley named by the Indian, "the white man's foot" to show itself about the squatter's door.
He sat gazing indifferently out the door as if unconscious of the dead silence that followed his remark. More men had drifted in till nearly a dozen were gathered in the room. "That's never been done out here buying school sections and filing squatter's rights," Morrow said at last. "This is cow country and will never be anything else." "Good cow country," Harris agreed.
Maud Stangrove in The Squatter's Dream, and Antonia Frankston in The Colonial Reformer, who seem to offer the best opportunities to typify Australian womanhood, are gracefully described; but, save for an occasional longing to relieve the monotony of their lives by a taste of European travel and culture, they are indistinguishable from such purely English types as Ruth Allerton and Estelle Challoner.
Rajoo located with all our belongings in a little wooden sort of squatter's cabin, where we were glad to take shelter out of the dripping rain. It reminded one strongly of Captain Cuttle's habitation and a ship's cabin together, and made one feel inclined to go on deck occasionally.
Refined, well-educated, and fragile-looking, she seemed about the last person in the world to take out to a slab-hut homestead as a squatter's wife. But there is an old saying that blood will tell; and with all the courage of her Huguenot ancestry she faced the roughness and discomforts of bush life.
An old wire-fence, slanting all directions, staggered past the front door. At the rear, its foot almost in the back door, sloped a barren ridge, formerly a squatter's sheep-yard. For the rest there were sky, wallaby-scrub, gum-trees, and some acres of cultivation.
I am sitting on a squatter's chair and writing on a table in the veranda, and the road goes right by the flower-garden. They have great squawking about the drought up here. I wish they could see Goulburn, and then they'd know what drought means. I don't know what sort of a bobberie they would kick up. It's pretty dry out on the run, but everyone calls the paddocks about the house an oasis.
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