arming city, surrounded by vineyards, orange
orchards, and almond and olive groves. In the season you may get for a
penny all the grapes that you could possibly eat, and oranges and other
fruit are just as cheap.

Adelaide has the reputation of being a very "good" city. It was founded
largely by high-minded colonists from Britain, whose main idea was to
seek in the new world a place where poverty and its evils would not
exist. To a very large extent they succeeded. There are no slums in
Adelaide and no starving children. Everywhere is an air of quiet
comfort.

[Illustration: THE GARDEN STREETS OF ADELAIDE. PAGE 16.]

From Adelaide you may take the train to complete your trip, the end of
which is, say, Brisbane. Leaving Adelaide, you climb in the train the
pretty Mount Lofty Mountains and then sweep down on to the plains and
cross the Murray River near its mouth. The Murray is the greatest of
Australian rivers. It rises in the Australian Alps, and gathers on its
way to the sea the Murrumbidgee and the Darling tributaries. There is a
curious floating life on these rivers. Nomad men follow along their
banks, making a living by fishing and doing odd jobs on the stations
they pass. They are called "whalers," and follow the life, mainly, I
think, because of a gipsy instinct for roving, since it is not either a
comfortable or profitable existence. On the rivers, too, are all sorts
of curious little colonies, living in barges, and floating down from
town to town. You may find thus floating, little theatres, cinematograph
shows, and even circuses.

The fisheries of these rivers are somewhat important, the chief fish
caught being the Murray cod. It grows sometimes to a vast size, to the
size almost of a shark; but when the cod is so big its flesh is always
rank and uneatable by Europeans.

Fishing for a cod is not an occupation calling for very much industry.
The fisherman baits his line, ties it to a stake fixed on the river
bank, and on the stake hangs a bell. Then the fisherman gets under the
shadow of a gum-tree and enjoys a quiet life, reading or just lazing. If
a cod takes the bait the bell will ring, and he will go and collect his
fish, which obligingly catches itself, and does not need any play to
bring it to land.

A cruel practice is followed to keep these fish fresh until a boat or
train to the city markets is due: a line is passed through the cod's
lip, and it is tethered to a stake in the water near the bank.