s away to the right of
them; indeed, half the number had never journeyed beyond Moonee, where
the coach finished its journey.

"Eagar got up collections--moths, butterflies, birds' eggs; he tried to
describe museums, picture-galleries, and such, to his pupils. At that
time he had no greater wish on earth than to have just enough money to
take the whole school to Sydney for a week, and see what a suddenly
widened horizon would do for them all. Had his salary come at that time
in one solid cheque for the whole year, there is no knowing to what
heights of recklessness he would have mounted, but the monthly driblets
keep the temptation far off.

"One morning he had a brilliant notion. In another week or two the
yearly 'sweep' fever for far-distant races would attack the place, and
the poorest would find enough to take a part at least in a ticket.

"He seized a piece of paper, and instituted what he called 'Eagar's
Consultation.' He explained that he was out to collect sixty shillings.
Sixty shillings, he explained, would pay the fare-coach and train--to
Sydney of one schoolboy, give him money in his pocket to see all the
sights, and bring him back the richer for life for the experience, and
leaven for the whole loaf of them.

"'Which schoolboy?' said Ninety Mile doubtfully, expecting to be met
with 'top boy.' And never having been 'top boy' itself at any time of
its life, it had but a distrustful admiration for the same.

"'We must draw lots,' said Eagar.

"Upon which Ninety Mile, being attracted by the sporting element in the
affair, slowly subscribed its shilling a-piece, and the happy lot fell
to Rattray.

"He was a sober, freckled little fellow of ten, who walked five miles
into Ninety Mile every morning, and five miles back again at night all
the six months of the year during which Government held the cup of
learning there for small drinkers to sip."

I need not quote further about young Rattray's trip to Sydney and to the
great ocean which Bush children, seeing for the first time, often think
is just a big dam built up by some great squatter to hold water for his
sheep. That extract shows the Bush school at its very hardest in the hot
back-country. Of course, not one twentieth of the population lives in
such places. I must give you a little of a description of a day in a
Bush school in Gippsland, by E. S. Emerson, to correct any impression
that all Australia, or even much of it, is like Ninety Mile:

"A rou