St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1895-09-13
Selected Stnrn.
A PLACE CALLED RANGORAH.
Romance of Australian Life.
rNfarv Katherine Brewster in the Springfield
Republican,
[Continued from last week.

pOrah. ne morning was Intensely
hot when Paul Stowe (ike joyous
flannel flower in his creamy tennis
suit, with harmonious shoes tripped
aboard to escort us down the sunny
wharf and across the radiating car
tracks to where Babs waited with
the horse that shared with the
stanchest tug in the harbor first
Mace in Paul Stoves pride.
Babs nodded to me to take the
other place on the high seat in front,
but Paul Stowe had arranged differ
emily, and put the Captain there,
Rose on the luxurious carriage seat,
and Paul Stowe and ME on little
seat, with no sides, facing her, and
with our backs to the drivers seat,
at a depth to have our heads knocked
by every backward movement of the
elbows of the two up there.
The perfect roads, smooth as a
floor, somewhat Gained apprehen-
sion when we started, and when the
way became steep cutched slippery
leather and felt like a dream OF cling
ing by finger nails over yawning
space-then in precarious situations
Mr.. Stoves lank, brown fingers
might be trusted to spread CALAMITY
across my knees after his own first
start of self-preservation.
A well-bred silence was observed
regarding the vacant seat beside
Rose, until we stopped before house
where the gilt on the balcony was
considerable, and an elusive welcome
awaited Paul Stowe behind the door.
Soon he emerged, preceded by a yell
low-haired maiden, formidable as to
height and rigidity Of tightly-laced
form, but vivacious with Paul Stowe
and Babs.
She wore stylish black gown
much embossed and sparkling with
let, and a true Australian hat loaded
with white plumes, one Electrically
dropping over the left ear.
gave up counting all the hats OF
this description that l saw in one
mornings walk through George
street, Sidney. 1t was too much like
counting white horses the day that
Barnum's circus came to our town,
when the girls were counting one
hundred white horses to foretel hus-
bands.
Seated among three fair ladies Paul
Stoves spirits rose with our road.
A road between sad-looking trees and
curious antipodeal vegetation. 1t
was like peep eras back-when this
piece of the forming world was tossed
off into the southern ocean, as If I'M
worthy of being developed with the
big continents, to be discovered and
become very choice centuries later
when the Others were so much nearer
exhaustion. We found the picnickers
in a circular clearing in the bush
camped like gypsies, with the beau
tiful embarrassed horses forming ar
outer ring. Doris Carew and Mis-:
Branton were preparing lunch; thu
other ladies lounging on shawIs
laughing at Mr.. Crayleigh, who witt
one hand was extracting bottles iron
a hamper that he was trying t6
steady with his other hand, and pic
turesquely addressing the ants tina
stung his ankles. He could not SCI
why they should attack only him unit
his attentive wife explained that h
had put the strangely webbing ham
per on the top of an ant-hill land a
any interference these ants are tn
gamiest little vermin in the world
and planted his comely feet astrid
another.
Mr.. Crayleigh, pausing to see
this were true, and ruetully lifting
one ankle, suddenly went down Xix
a collapsing cup, the hamper follow
ing, and Immediately all hands wer
wanted to extricate him, a carmine
faced study in salad oil, sandwiches
and crushed peach on white linen.
At first Mr.. Crayleigh acted as
we were to blame, sat sulkily agalns
a burnt stump, and said little. Mrs
Crayleigh apologized for what he d'
say by telling how he learnedit whe
he was boy and ran away to sea
And she sent the children to look 10
water in one of the carriages.
1t was so hot that we spent tn
afternoon lazily, then, as long RID
was before us, hurried tea an
started.
Going home, Mrs. Crayleigh, Dorl