this
time, the stock-keeper and his horse have no sinecure; for the cattle
they have to collect, are as wild, and nearly as swift as deer; so much
so, that a cattle-hunt in Australia is nearly as much enjoyed by the
young men as a fox-hunt in Old England. Some breeds of cattle are much
more easily managed than others, being naturally quieter; but, generally
speaking, the wild way in which the Australian herds are reared, makes
them intractable and troublesome.

In spite of all this thieving and trouble, however, cattle-stock is a
good investment for money in ordinary times. In extraordinary times like
the last year or two, no investment is safe, except to the man who can
hold on till things mend. In 1838, cattle were worth from 3l. 10s. to
5l. per head, for a herd consisting of cows, steers, and heifers from
one to three years old, and calves under six months. Very superior herds
were worth more; but I speak generally. Since that time, thousands of
cattle have been killed and boiled down for their tallow. But times are
mending, and this stock, like every other, is not likely to be again so
unsaleable.

It is of the greatest possible importance to a grazier, to have his
herds near some place where there is communication by water with Sydney.
In this respect, Hunter's river and Port Macquarie have the pre-eminence
over the rest of the Colony. The possessor of fat cattle, in either of
those districts, can at all times send them to market by steam, without
their losing much flesh; whereas I knew in 1839, when fodder was so
scarce, a man having three hundred head of beasts fit for the knife,
running in Wellington valley, which, could he have got them into Sydney,
would have brought 8l. per head ready cash, but which were utterly
valueless to him, from the impossibility of driving them through a
country almost bare of pasture. Had this man been on the banks of either
of my favourite rivers, he could have turned his cattle into cash in
three days.

The wild way in which cattle are reared in Australia, makes the young
steer a troublesome animal to break in for the plough; and then, the
absurd system of turning all the working bullocks into the bush to feed
after their day's work, adds very much to the farmer's cares. These
bullocks are very cunning, and at daylight, when they well know the
ploughman will be after them, invariably conceal themselves in some snug
corner. I have had men out for hours, looking for a team of bul