There is his home--a poor one, perhaps, but his own, and to it he clings
with desperation, sees in and about it attractions and beauty where
others perceive nothing but untoned dreariness, unrelieved hopelessness.
His little bit of country may be remote and isolated, but Nature is warm
and encouraging, and profuse of her stimulants here. She responds
off-hand without pausing to reflect, but with an outburst of goodwill and
purpose to appeals for sustenance. She has no despondent moods. She never
lapses in prolific purposes. She may be wayward in accepting the
interferences of man, but all her vigorous impulses are expended in
productiveness. She cannot sulk or idle. Kill, burn and destroy her
primeval jungle, and she does not give way to sadness and despair, nor
are any of her infinite forces abated. Spontaneously she begins the work
of restoration, and as if by magic the scar is covered with as rich and
riotous a profusion of vegetation as ever. Nature needs only to be
restrained and schooled and her response is an abundance of various sorts
of food for man.
The routine that cultivators of the soil have to obey is diverse, but the
life of the dweller in the country in tropical Queensland can be asserted
with perfect safety to be more comfortable than that of the average
settler in any other part of Australia.
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