Crime Detected; Or, The Midnight Watch

by A. T.

I don’t think that I was ever out in a hotter day in Australia than the one of which I am now about to write. The sun had been pouring down streams of fiery light, that made me thank my stars I was not in “Force” uniform, though, as it was, the heat burning through the tweed coat upon my back made me feel as if it was cast iron, and riveted upon my body. My poor animal felt the fatigue and almost insufferable heat quite as much as I did, I dare say; while the flies, those tormenting nuisances of bush life, nearly drove both him and me mad.  

Very beautiful in early morning is the green scattered “bush” of Australia. A thousand beauties may be freshly discovered, as it were, at every fresh mile of travel. In one spot, grand, crooked old leaves lean caressingly over some tortuous and glistening creek, or stand sentinel over their own reflections in the placid water. Early birds call to each other from scented golden wattles, or wash themselves in the shadow of the old gum-trees upon the edge of the creek. If it is the season for the stately magpie, he utters those delicious gurgles of music, that cannot be compared with the notes of any other bird in the wide world, or stalks proudly over the grassy slopes, as if he really believed he and his were “monarchs of all they surveyed.” 

Later in the day, too, when the thermometer stands no higher than 103 or 104 or so, one may yet enjoy a ride through the glades of our eastern forest. The screams of the cockatoos are discordant, no doubt, but how enjoyable it is to catch a glimpse of them hovering over some tall tree or resting upon a bough, with outspread wing, swaying themselves to and fro in the very enjoyment of pure life. Cawing crows are nasty things, too, and suggestive of something… Read More