The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1891-05-03
IN THE DRY SEASON.
Striking Picture OF an Australian
Ranch in Hot Weather
From Harpsr's Weekly.

Striking Picture OF an Australian
Ranch in Hot Weather.
From Hdrpers Weekly
a traveller draws near a station home
stead. His feeble horse pulls itself to-
geiher for another effort, and whinnies as
from the homestead he sees solitary
bromide in a paddock jest ahead. At the
right hand is a water-tank-a great hole
dug in the ground-flled eighteen months
ago by rain. Hundreds OF sheep lie dead
aud dying around it. and thousands
stencil the plains. The sheep have either
| died in reaching the tank. or, getting TO it,
have plunged in and have then persisted,
too weak to get up the bank again. Pha-
lanxes of stated crows stand in hue upon the
bank. a black and menacing barricade, and
kites and magpies hover overhead.
The traveller has passed empty wells, aud
has shuddered at the tales told him in some
shepherds hut where he sought shelter. He
pears the homestead; he dsmounts, and en-
ters the garden, kept alive by woman's
| hand till water ran low; then she forsook it
sadly. this one touch of her past now with
cred and dead. Is there no one heres Is it,
too a scene of tragedy, with human Victims
| No; aud yet tragedy, too. To a sharp
| "COo-e~e,h there comes an answering call,
and the manager appears at the door, a
bearded, gruf, but kindly SOUL and over
| his shoulder peers the face Of a woman, sad
and drawn. The great exhaust pipes of
nature in that burning land soon take the
| bloom from the cheek and the light from
| the eye A shake of the hand, a my
word" of apostrophic welcome, and the
traveller says: "How goes the unucky
gamer
With swift sigh OF relief and sudden
uplifting of the arms comes the reply: The
| lac ic IOJ
my mindm And then he said, "Come out
and see how things look" Outside he
added I'VE were inst going TO plant
| Suudowner when you coo-e-ed. Didn't
want to say anything about it before the
missus." Then he told the oft-repeated
record OF a wanderer creeping to the very
threshold of safety and then dying, his
hand upon the gate of that little withered
| garden.
BY the grave they stand, the manager
with Bible in his hand, book rarely
used by him perhaps, but reverenced after
his fashion and necessary now. He wishes
the traveller to do it over the cold 'un,n
| but the traveller declines. With coarse
| fingers laundering through the leaves in an
uncertain kind of way, the manager began
to read at random from Ecclesiastes. A
half dozen verses gruffiy fall, and then the
| words come:
For what hath man Of all his labor, and
of the vexation of his heart, wherein he
hath labored under the sun.
For all his days are sorrows, and his
travail grief; yea, his heart taketh not rest
| il the night. This is also vanity
Then he closed the book and said: "Well,
he was goner atore he was "a conner, and
don't know as there's need TO pitch long
| yarn. He hadn't much for his labor under
the sun, and hot sun II is up here at ll0'
| degr eos iii the shade. He came a long way
over the country rock. He hadn't a drop
in his water bottle, nor bit Of damper in
| his swag. He'd got his fingers on the slip
rails and was within coo-e-e Of drink and
tucker when he vent out sudden to the
! Never-never Land and went it alone. He
| couldn't have had much vanity, not with
| them features; but, my word the Lord
knows all about that. / hope If he gets as
near to the homestead gate up there as he
did down here last night, though he isn't
very fit, one Of the hands will see
him and open it and let him in, even
if it has to be on the sly. 1t was at
night he got here and in the morning we
| found him; it's at night we cover him, and
rest or no rest, he'll not have to work in the
morning. There isn't a place that's hotter
| than here, and this one amt sent to that
quod for punishment. Let MIN down easy
and water bag by him. That
right Scatter some sandal leaves over his
face. + Now scrape in the coun
try sand. The dingoes can't
touch him there. x What's that
you've put on the board, Jim "A Sum
downer Gone And God forgive him,
wherever he's gone. - In the
midst of life we are in death Amen"
And another of-5everal such tragedies that
that the traveller saw was hidden away, a
nameless refugee of misfortune in name
| less grave.
And now it ia midnight, and the manager
aud the traveller, with pipes aglow, sit and
blow away dark anticipaions Before the
wife had slipped away she had said, in re-
| Spouse to the managers doubts Of their
being able to hold out for week longer, TO
this announcement that Shady Jacks well
was done and that the Frenchman's tank
| was empty, Hope for the best" And the
manager, through "a cloud Of smoke, replied,
"My oath but the best things never come
off" To this the wife replied, "Yes, Dick;
but the worst things never come off.
Night after nigat this man had walked this
room, alternating between prayers aud
curses, as each days record was another
| thousand sheep gone, another empty WE'LL
until at last he came to this apathetic en-
durance, to the grim courage OF despair.
81 shouldn't care 80 much,n ho said, but
then my wife. my girls, III there" He drew
his sleeve roughly across his eyes and bowed
his bead on the liable. FOR ten minutes ne
sat there so. Then the traveller saw him
raise his head, start. spring to his feet,
listen with strained, inquiring eyes. What
was that Something singed on the CORFU
gated roof above us. "Ralnl raIn rainw
he cried, as he rushed outdoors and fell on
his knees, with his hands stretched out
toward the gathered sky. Thank God
thank God Wife! girlsl Mary rainln
The fioodgates of the sky were opened,
nd ara tho morning rama the valpr
helping to put up a dyke on one side of
| the house. And tHe march of destruction
was stayed.
Walter Bridges, Athens, Tenn, writes:
"For six years / had been afflicted with