On We Went, Up Hill And Down Dale, Sometimes Coming To A More Open
Piece Of Ground, But More Generally
Threading our way amid a very maze
of trees, with trunks all black as the ground itself, whilst the dingy
Foliage and the few rays of sunshine that lit up those dark, deep
glades served only to heighten the gloominess around.
After walking for about six miles - I preferred that mode of getting
along to the joltings of the dray - we all felt disposed to rest
ourselves. We selected a spot where the trees were less thickly
clustered, and taking the horses out of the dray, tethered them by
strong ropes to some trees near. The dray itself was turned up, and a
blanket thrown over the up-raised shafts formed a most complete and
cosy little tent.
A fire was next kindled, and a kettle full of water (with the tea in
it!) was placed on to boil, some home-made bread, brought from
Carlshrue, was placed upon the ground, and some chops were toasted on
the ends of sticks, which are usually the impromptu
toasting-forks of the bush. The old tin plates and pannicans, not quite
so bright as once upon a time, but showing, despite sundry bruises and
scratches, that they had seen better days, were placed upon the
tea-table, which of course was the ground. Two or three knives and
forks were on general service, and wandered about from hand to hand as
occasion required.
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