After leaving Arrino we met Mr. Brooklyn and Mr. King, two Government surveyors, at whose camp we rested a day.  The heat was excessive, the thermometer during that day going up 115 degrees in the shade.  The following day we reached a farm belonging to Mr. Goodwin, where we had a drink of beer all round.  That evening we reached an establishment called Irwin House, on the Irwin River, formerly the residence of Mr. Lock Burgess, who was in partnership there with Squire Phillips.  Mr. Burgess having gone to England, the property was leased to Mr. Fane, where we again met Mrs. Fane and her daughters, whom we had first met at Culham.  This is a fine cattle run and farming property.  From thence we went to Dongarra, a town-site also on the Irwin.  On reaching this river, we found ourselves in one of the principal agricultural districts of Western Australia, and at Dongarra we were met by a number of the gentlemen of the district, and an address was presented to me by Mr. Laurence, the Resident Magistrate.  After leaving Dongarra, we were entertained at his house by Mr. Bell; and here we met a French gentleman of a strong Irish descent, with fine white eyes and a thick shock head, of red hair; he gazed intently both at us and the camels.  I don’t know which he thought the more uncouth of the two kinds of beasts.  At last he found sufficient English to say, “Do dem tings goo faar in a deayah, ehah?” When he sat down to dinner with us, he put his mutton chop on his hand, which he rested on his plate.  The latter seemed to be quite an unknown article of furniture to him, and yet I was told his father was very well to do.

The next town-site we reached was the Greenough—­pronounced Greenuff—­Flats, being in another very excellent agricultural district; here another address was presented to me, and we were entertained at an excellent lunch.  As usual, great numbers of people came to inspect us, and the camels, the latter laying down with their loads on previous to being let go.  Often, when strangers would come too near, some of the more timid camels would jump up instantly, and the people not being on their guard, would often have torn faces and bleeding noses before they could get out of the way.  On this occasion a tall, gaunt man and his wife, I supposed, were gazing at Tommy’s riding camel as she carried the two little dogs in bags, one on each side.  Tommy was standing near, trying to make her jump up, but she was too quiet, and preferred lying down.  Any how, Tommy would have his joke—­so, as the man who was gazing most intently at the pups said, “What’s them things, young man?” he replied, “Oh, that’s hee’s pickaninnies”—­sex having no more existence in a black boy’s vocabulary than in a highlander’s.  Then the tall man said to the wife, “Oh, lord, look yer, see how they carries their young.”  Only the pup’s heads appeared, a string round the neck keeping them in; “but they looks like dogs too, don’t they?” With that he put his huge face down, so as to gaze more intently at them, when the little dog, who had been teased a good deal and had got snappish, gave a growl and snapped at his nose.  The secret was out; with a withering glance at Tommy and the camels, he silently walked away—­the lady following.