But he was ever pining for the bush. The "busy haunts of
men" had no attraction for him. He preferred the society of a few
to that of many, but the study of nature was his passion. His love
was fixed on animals, plants, and the starry firmament. With regard
to medicine, he used to say that it was not clear and defined in
practice. He wanted to measure the scope of a disease, and to
supply the remedies by mathematical rule. He saw, too, that medical
men were less valued for their real worth than for their tact in
winning confidence through the credulity of the public. This was
particularly exemplified in a gold-field, where the greatest
impostors obtained credit for a time. His thoughts and conversation
also constantly reverted to the interior, and to the hope that he
would one day undertake the journey to the Gulf of Carpentaria. He
was anxiously looking out for a movement in that direction, then
often talked of.
About this period he made a pedestrian excursion to the Wannon, to
sojourn for a short time with a Mr. Skene, a most worthy gentleman,
now no more. He was actively employed at that place, and wrote to
me frequently, describing the family, to which he was much
attached, the whimsicalities of his landlord--a thorough old
Scotian, who amused himself by waking the echoes of the wilderness
with the bagpipes,--the noble fern trees and the fine black
cockatoos.
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