And To Drag This Grand Affair Into Melbourne Were
Harnessed Thereto The Most Wretched-Looking Objects In The Shape Of
Horses That I Had Ever Beheld.
A slight roll tells us we are off.
"And is THIS the beautiful scenery of Australia?" was my first
melancholy reflection. Mud and swamp - swamp and mud - relieved here
and there by some few trees which looked as starved and miserable as
ourselves. The cattle we passed appeared in a wretched condition, and
the human beings on the road seemed all to belong to one family, so
truly Vandemonian was the cast of their countenances.
"The rainy season's not over," observed the driver, in an
apologetic tone. Our eyes and uneasy limbs most FEELINGLY corroborated
his statement, for as we moved along at a foot-pace, the rolling of the
omnibus, owing to the deep ruts and heavy soil, brought us into most
unpleasant contact with the various packages before-mentioned. On we
went towards Melbourne - now stopping for the unhappy horses to take
breath - then passing our pedestrian messmates, and now arriving at a
small specimen of a swamp; and whilst they (with trowsers tucked high
above the knee and boots well saturated) step, slide and tumble
manfully through it, we give a fearful roll to the left, ditto, ditto
to the right, then a regular stand-still, or perhaps, by way of
variety, are all but jolted over the animals' heads, till at length all
minor considerations of bumps and bruises are merged in the anxiety to
escape without broken bones.
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