the pioneer pastoralists ran bravely in the old days.  An Australian drought can never be as disastrous in the twentieth century as it was in 1866; and South Australia, the Central State, has from the first been a pioneer in development as well as in exploration.  The hum of the reaping machine first awoke the echoes in our wheatfields.  The stump-jumping plough and the mullenicer which beats down the scrub or low bush so that it can be burnt, were South Australian inventions, copied elsewhere, which have turned land accounted worthless into prolific wheat fields.

If South Australia was the first of the States to exhaust her agricultural soil, she was the first to restore it by means of fertilizers and the seed drill.  When I see the drilled wheat fields I recollect my grandfather’s two silver salvers—­the Prizes from the Highland Society for having the largest area of drilled wheat in Scotland—­and when I see the grand crops on the Adelaide Plains I recall the opinion that, with anything like a decent rainfall, that soil could grow anything.  In 1866 the northern areas had not been opened.  The farmers were continuing the process of exhausting the land by growing wheat—­wheat—­wheat, with the only variety wheaten hay.  I recollect James Burnet’s amazement when I said that our horses were fed on wheaten hay.  “What a waste of the great possibilities of a grain harvest!” He was doubtful when I said that with plenty of wheaten hay the horses needed no corn.  South Australia, except about Mount Gambier, does not grow oats, though Victoria depends on oaten hay.  The British agriculturist thinks that meadow hay is the natural forage for horses and cattle, and for winter turnips are the standby.  It was a little amusing to me that I could speak with some authority to skilled and experienced agriculturists, who felt our rivalry at Mark lane, but who did not dream that with the third great move of Australia towards the markets of the world through cold storage we could send beef, mutton, lamb, poultry, eggs, and all kinds of fruit to the consumers of Europe, and especially of England and its metropolis.  I did not see it, any more than the people to whom I talked.  I still thought that for meat and all perishable commodities the distance was an insuperable obstacle, and that, except for live stock from America, or canned meat from Australia, the United Kingdom would continue self-supporting on these lines.

I returned to Australia, when this island continent was in the grip of one of the most severe and protracted droughts in its history.  The war between Prussia and Austria had begun and ended; the failure of Overend and Gurney and others brought commercial disaster; and my brother, with other bankers, had anxious days and sleepless nights.  Some rich men became richer; many poor men went down altogether.  Our recovery was slow but sure.  In the meantime I found life at home very dull after my interesting experiences abroad.  There was nothing to do for proportional