On the Wallaby through Victoria

This is not supposed to be a national or political history of Victoria. When I was asked to write something about the country which has extended its hospitality to me, and given me bread and cheese—sometimes no cheese, it is true, and more often than not no butter, but still always bread, and an ever-increasing appetite—I must confess I felt frankly scared. There is a very good, if somewhat vulgar, expression in use out here, which speaks of anyone who attempts what is beyond them as "biting off more than they can chew." And the thought frightened me. There seemed to be so many people who had lived all their life in the country, and were therefore much more capable of writing about it than I could ever possibly hope to be. However, I found that other "fools rushed in," who had been here for even a shorter period than myself; who had never participated in any way in the true life of the country, or depended on it for their own life, which after all teaches one more than anything else ever can about a place. I may not be an p. vi"angel," I thought, still I know it, which is one point in my favour; and, after all, eight years can scarcely be described as a "rush." Besides, every proverb and popular saying seems to be balanced by another which is completely contradictory—and while it may be true that "fools rush in where angels fear to tread," it is also true "that lookers-on see most of the game," and perhaps score somewhat in the freshness of their impressions and in their facilities for comparison. As it is I can only write about Victoria as I know it. There are many mistakes that I may have made through my inability to see all sides of a question; but they are at least honest mistakes, and not the deliberate misstatement of facts, from which Australia has so often suffered.