A Letter from the Bush

Dear frend,

’Ow’s she goin’? Me an’ Bill Smith’s been talkin’ over this beauty competition, an’ Bill Smith sez to me, “Wot’s beauty, anyways?” The lady looks orlright, but I dunno—can she milk?

So that set me thinkin’, an’ I was awake near orl larst nite, workin’ out a scheme. Wot’s the matter with the Herald ’avin’ a milkin’ competition? This country don’t want beauty so much as she wants workers; an’ if milkin’ ain’t workin’, wot is?

Both me wife an’ Bill Smith’s wife is sure starters, if you will only give the game a go. You could ’ave photos of the cows, which would look very pretty in the paper, at the same time givin’ the country industries a bit of a boost.

Then if me wife or Bill Smith’s wife won the competition, it might advertise the district a bit, an’ give us a better chance of gettin’ a railway—which is only a fair thing, considerin’ ’ow we’re handicapped up ’ere. If we ’ad it, we wouldn’t worry Mr Clapp about women ridin’ in smokers; they could ride on the engines if they wanted to—so long as we got the railway.

The grass is gettin’ a bit green up ’ere now.

Hoppin’ you are the same,
Yours truly,
Bill Bowyang