steep parts of the range which he
had galloped down, while hunting wild cattle, the most useful and
exciting sport known in Australia--useful, inasmuch as it prevents the
wild cattle from coming down to the plains and enticing away the tame
herds; and exciting, from the rough nature of the country, in which the
sport is pursued.

WILD CATTLE.

The wild cattle invariably keep on high ranges, and from their acuteness
of smell, are difficult to get at, and it is only to leeward that one can
approach them. The bulls being the leaders of the herds are always
singled out, and after a desperate and trying gallop over a rugged
country, the huntsman finds himself going stride for stride alongside one
of these Kings of the Forest, and wondering how an animal so ungainly in
his gait, can get over the country at such a pace. Jumping over fallen
trees, and dodging round others, he at last finds himself on a clear
spot, when drawing a pistol from his holster, and riding up so as almost
to touch the animal's side, he lodges a well directed ball just behind
the fore shoulder. This is the most critical moment. Great command of
your horse is required, for the bull, if not mortally wounded, turns
suddenly half mad with rage on his pursuer, and puts his nerves and
judgment to a severe test.

On these occasions almost incredible feats of horsemanship are performed;
and nearly precipitous slopes are descended. I have seen similar exploits
nowhere but in Chile, where horses are ridden down the sides of frightful
ravines on their haunches at half speed for bets; but in that country the
severity of the bit gives the rider a power over his steed unknown
elsewhere.

INCIVILITY OF A SETTLER.

We crossed the Williams river, about fifteen miles South-West from
Stroud, and after nearly another hour's ride came to a place called
Wallaroba. I was here doomed to experience the only instance of
incivility I ever found in Australia. It was late in the afternoon of a
cold blustering day, and having breakfasted early, we were prompted to
test the hospitality of a Mr. Chapman, whose station we were passing. It
was the only one we had seen during the day, and knowing the possibility
of our being mistaken for bush-rangers,* we turned back our rough coats,
and rode up to the house as smart as we could make ourselves. We met the
owner standing in the gateway of the garden fronting the house, which he
nearly filled; but although presenting a John Bull's ex