A variety troupe visited the town, and Laura was taken to a performance.  Among the “freaks” were General Mite and his consort.  Laura came back with this proud boast—­“I bin shake hands alonga piccaniny!”

ROYAL BLANKETS

Nelly was extravagantly fond of pictures; anything, from an illustrated advertisement up, pleased her, and when the subject was not very obvious to her she would indifferently gaze lovingly upon it upside down.  A pair of fine photographs of King Edward and Queen Alexandra in all the sumptuousness of their coronation robes was shown her, and she was told that “fella King belonga whiteman.  That fella Queen wife, you know.”  Putting her democratic forefinger on each alternately, Nelly said—­“That fella man; that fella Missis!  My word!  Got ’nother kind blanket!”

HIS DAILY BREAD

The Government of Queensland is conscientiously performing the duty of smoothing the pillows of the dying race.  On the coast several mission stations have been established where the blacks of the neighbourhood are gathered together and, under discipline tempered with a strong religious element, taught to take care of themselves.  The system is under the supervision of an experienced official, entitled the “Chief Protector of Aboriginals,” and he tells a story which throws rays of light in more than one direction.

A plump boy, who several months before had been consigned to a mission station quite out of the neighbourhood, presented himself at the head office, and with a rather rueful countenance answered a few of the preliminary inquiries of the Protector.  Confidence having been gained, particular questions were asked.

“Yis,” said the boy, “me bin stockrider belonga Yenda.  Come down alonga town have spell.”

“But you belong to Fraser Island mission station!”

“Yis, me bin alonga that place.”

“Why you no stop?  That very good place.”

“Nahr!  No blurry good.”

“You get plenty tucker—­plenty everything that place!”

This provoked a trailing exclamation of dissent and disgust.  “N-a-hr!  Blenty ask it—­no get ’em.  Ebery morning tell that big fella Boss (with an upward jerk of the head) gib it daily-bread.  Dinner-time tell it gib it daily-bread.  One time more alonga tea tell it that big fella Boss gib it daily-bread.”

“Well, you get plenty.”

“N-a-hr!  No get ’em.  Get ’em corn (with a spit) all asame horse.”

Hominy, with prayer, is the standing dish at that station.

HUMAN NATURE