with his legs, which give
tremendous blows, and then, when he has kicked down his enemy, he
will probably sit upon him, and his weight is about two
hundredweight. An ostrich, therefore, cannot be considered a
generous foe. The old manager had been a good deal knocked about by
them himself. On one occasion a bird had kicked him twice, broken a
rib or two, and got him up fast against the palings. However, he
managed to seize hold of the bird's neck, and calling to some men on
the other side, he handed the neck to them over the palings, to hold
while he made his escape--which his ingenuity certainly deserved. I
asked him what he did when they ran away. "Well," he said, "I sit
down and wait till they stop; you can't catch them." The male takes
turn with the female in sitting on the eggs, and when an ostrich has
young ones she is very dangerous to approach. A good breeding couple
are worth L300. The feathers are not taken off at any particular
time of the year, but as they are ready, nor is cruelty exercised in
taking them. I saw several ovens which had been used for hatching
the eggs, but now they have enough birds to let them be hatched
naturally, which is the safer way. An ostrich at close quarters is
certainly an unpleasant looking beast; his neck, moving rapidly in
all directions, surmounted by a small head, with bright
wicked-looking eyes, reminds one of a snake. He has a fancy for
anything bright, and will make for a button on your coat if it
happens to gleam. I asked the age of ostriches, but could obtain no
information. They look wiry enough to live for ever.

On our return to Gawler we called on the way to see an orange farm.
The oranges were being picked. The trees, laden with fruit, seemed
to have repaid the labour of the cultivator. Oranges require a great
deal of water. This grove was in a sheltered valley, and water was
supplied by a pump worked by wind. The man with us said you could
not tell exactly what sort of oranges would come, because the same
tree sometimes bears different kinds. Whether this is the case I do
not know. Paramatta, near Sydney, is the chief place for oranges in
Australia, but these of Gawler seemed to be as good as any we could
desire, to judge from the taste. At Gawler we had tea at a friend's
house. He said amongst other things--all interesting, but which I
have forgotten--that he always gave tramps a meal (which seems to be
the custom) and usually offered them work, but that none wo