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 open lightly-timbered forest. The lava lands alternated with great marshes. Strayed and other cattle found there, when recovered, were always spoken of by the stock-riders as being "mud-fat." When once cattle were turned out there they never seemed to have any inclination to roam, being instinctively aware, doubtless, that they could never hope to find such shelter, such pasture, such luxurious lodging anywhere else.

I remember Charles Burchett remarking one day that it would be a fairly promising speculation to bring up a thousand head of store cattle and lose them at the foot of Mount Rouse; after a short, unsuccessful search, to depart, and return in the autumn, when they would be sure to be found all fat, and within a dozen miles of the hill. He reflected for a moment, and then added thoughtfully, "I think a popular man might do it."

However, there was no fighting with the powers that be in those days. There was no Parliament—no press of any great weight—no fierce democracy—no redress nearer than Sydney. It was "a far cry to Lochow." So Mr. Cox shifted his stock and servants out, and Dr. Watton moved in, took possession as Protector of Aborigines, and gathered to him the remnant of the former lords of the soil, with their wives and their little ones. The intention was humane; the act was one of mercy and justice towards the fast-fading children of the waste; but it never could be demonstrated to be more successful in results than the Tasmanian experiment.

There were several protectorate stations established about the same time, one notably near Ballarat,