yself
for a while anyway; but, come to think of it, the doctor or the woman
with the past would have more experience; and I could look after that
part of the business at a pinch. Of course you're not in a position to
judge as to my ability in the intellectual line; you see, I've had no
one to practise on since I've been with you. But no matter---- There'd
be intellectual conversation for the benefit of black-sheep new chums.
And any broken-down actors that came along could get up a play if they
liked--it would brighten up things and help elevate the bullock-drivers
and sundowners. I'd have a stage fixed up and a bit of scenery. I'd do
all I could to attract shearers to the place after shearing, and keep
them from rushing to the next shanty with their cheques, or down to
Sydney, to be cleaned out by barmaids.

"And I'd have the hero squashed in the last act for a selfish sneak, and
marry the girl to the villain--he'd be more likely to make her happy in
the end."

"And what about the farm?" I asked. "I suppose you'd get some expert
from the agricultural college to manage that?"

"No," said Mitchell. "I'd get some poor drought-ruined selector and
put him in charge of the vegetation. Only, the worst of it is," he
reflected, "if you take a selector who has bullocked all his life to
raise crops on dusty, stony patches in the scrubs, and put him on land
where there's plenty of water and manure, and where he's only got to
throw the seed on the ground and then light his pipe and watch it grow,
he's apt to get disheartened. But that's human nature.

"And, of course, I'd have to have a `character' about the place--a sort
of identity and joker to brighten up things. I wouldn't get a man who'd
been happy and comfortable all his life; I'd get hold of some old codger
whose wife had nagged him till she died, and who'd been sold off many
times, and run in for drowning his sorrows, and who started as
an undertaker and failed at that, and finally got a job pottering
round--gardener, or gatekeeper, or something--in a lunatic asylum. I'd
get him. He'd most likely be a humorist and a philosopher, and he'd help
cheer up the Lost Souls' Hotel. I reckon the lost souls would get very
fond of him."

"And would you have drink at Lost Souls'?" I asked.

"Yes," said Mitchell. "I'd have the best beer and spirits and wine to
be had. After tea I'd let every man have just enough to make him feel
comfortable and happy, and as good and clever, an