Yet, Whatever Their Rank Or Race, Our Travellers Were
Men, Not Riff-Raff, The Long, Formidable Stages That Wall In The
Never-Never Have Seen To That, Turning Back The Weaklings And Worthless
To The Flesh-Pots Of Egypt, And Proving The Worth And Mettle Of The
Brave-Hearted:
All men, every one of them, and all in need of a little
hospitality, whether of the prosperous and well-doing or "down in their
luck," and each was welcomed according to that need; for out-bush rank
counts for little:
We are only men and women there. And all who came in,
and went on, or remained, gave us of their best while with us; for there
was that in the Maluka that drew the best out of all men. In life we
generally find in our fellow-men just what we seek, and the Maluka,
seeking only the good, found only the good and drew much of it into his
own sympathetic, sunny nature. He demanded the best and was given the
best, and while with him, men found they were better men than at other
times.
Some of our guests sat with us at table, some with the men, and some
"grubbed in their camps." All of them rode in strangers and many of them
rode out life-long friends, for such is the way of the bushfolk: a little
hospitality, a day or two of mutual understanding, and we have become
part of the other's life. For bush hospitality is something better than
the bare housing and feeding of guests, being just the simple sharing of
our daily lives with a fellow-man - a literal sharing of all that we
have; of our plenty or scarcity, our joys or sorrows, our comforts or
discomforts, our security or danger; a democratic hospitality, where all
men are equally welcome, yet so refined in its simplicity and
wholesomeness, that fulsome thanks or vulgar apologies have no part in
it, although it was whispered among the bushfolk that those "down in
their luck" learned that when the Maluka was filling tucker-bags, a
timely word in praise of the missus filled tucker-bags to over-flowing.
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