ps.

Black Joe was somewhere between nine and twelve when I first met him,
on a visit to my uncle's station; I was somewhere in those years too.
He was very black, the darker for being engaged in the interesting but
uncertain occupation of "burning off" in his spare time--which wasn't
particularly limited. He combined shepherding, 'possum and kangaroo
hunting, crawfishing, sleeping, and various other occupations and
engagements with that of burning off. I was very white, being a sickly
town boy; but, as I took great interest in burning off, and was not
particularly fond of cold water--it was in winter time--the difference
in our complexions was not so marked at times.

Black Joe's father, old Black Jimmie, lived in a gunyah on the rise
at the back of the sheepyards, and shepherded for my uncle. He was a
gentle, good-humoured, easy-going old fellow with a pleasant smile;
which description applies, I think, to most old blackfellows in
civilisation. I was very partial to the old man, and chummy with him,
and used to slip away from the homestead whenever I could, and squat
by the campfire along with the other piccaninnies, and think, and
yarn socially with Black Jimmie by the hour. I would give something to
remember those conversations now. Sometimes somebody would be sent to
bring me home, when it got too late, and Black Jimmie would say:

"Piccaninnie alonga possum rug," and there I'd be, sound asleep, with
the other young Australians.

I liked Black Jimmie very much, and would willingly have adopted him
as a father. I should have been quite content to spend my days in the
scrub, enjoying life in dark and savage ways, and my nights "alonga
possum rug"; but the family had other plans for my future.

It was a case of two blackfellows and one gin, when Black Jimmie went
a-wooing--about twelve years before I made his acquaintance--and he
fought for his bride in the black fashion. It was the last affair of
that kind in the district. My uncle's brother professed to have been
present at the fight, and gave me an alleged description of it. He said
that they drew lots, and Black Jimmie put his hands on his knees and
bent his head, and the other blackfellow hit him a whack on the skull
with a nulla nulla. Then they had a nip of rum all round--Black Jimmie
must have wanted it, for the nulla nulla was knotted, and heavy, and
made in the most approved fashion. Then the other blackfellow bent his
head, and Jimmie took the club and