After a long and meditative silence, it transpired that the stranger might after all 'take a run over to Australia' after he had finished his business in New Zealand, and have a yarn with an old mate in Sydney. 'The smell of them gum leaves set me thinking' he says.
Like many of Lawson's stories this one has an element of sentimentality, but there is also the dry, sardonic humour of the bush, and the characters are drawn with precision and economy. I liked this story very much, as (like so many Australians, especially foresters) I once had a similar aromatic experience when overseas, and I remember the nostalgia the smell of the gum leaves had generated. The comment that 'it was a warm morning, after rain' also strikes a chord, as I recall many occasions when the day was humid and the bush reeked of eucalyptus.
My friend Peter Kimber once told me about a time in the 1950s when he was a young forester, working in the misty highlands of East Africa. One humid morning, after rain, he walked into a plantation of Eucalyptus citriodora, the lemon-scented gum from Queensland. The aroma was almost overpowering, and although Peter had never been to Australia at that time, his mind always retained the memory of 'the smell of them gum leaves'. At the time it was an echo from the future, not the past, as Peter moved to Australia in 1964, where he soon became one of our finest foresters.
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Henry Lawson could have made a story out of that.
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